Mathematics of Failure

Coefficients. 40 Percent Grades 60 percent Grades

Work... 82 percent of your time... birthday included.
Passion 100 percent, when she is involved ans you cannot let your friend down
Appreciation.. Personal 100 percent.. Foreign 80 considering they might be a little bit hypocrit

Correction.. 8/20 In Internal and external ..

the result is.. WE ARE FUCKED

the teachers didnt like my face.. I did not like my nose
the Argentinian was not a strong woman...

the rest Were Solid with their colleague.

I am Dead
Here we go.. into the Fight again... No pasaran?? they said in spain

Pasare.. digo aca

While my trip to spain and Holland seems to fade away with snow

FUCK malak.... Fuck 'em All

Shalom

Alexis, Portrait of a Sleeping Jew...

Yesterday I went to see arduino, Arduino is clementinas and giulianas brother. Clementina is my half italian friend that I met once by casual happenings in bogota in a halloween party cause we were both disguised as scarecrows.
Arduino resulted to be a very nice man. in the road to the metro.. I see 4 orthodox Jews comming towards Era And me.. one of them stops and asks " are you jewish?"

I don't know what took me but I said " yes"

the man starts shaking hands, asking where I was from. " shalom flalala" . inviting me to prayer, telling me that shabbat is supposed to be this this and this. he took my number and said he would call me. a californian orthodox jew that now for a life comes to beaugrenelle to "Evangelize" people so the chosen ones are even more and more and more

I accepted I was a Jew...

I wonder why.

in the end he took my number, he said he would call as the other came back. smelling like jews that have never taken a shower. They said hi.. I asked for my pen back and I left.

then era laughed.. and Wondered how the hell can the man on the picture upstairs, me, and the california jew be the "same"

I just said I needed money.. and a job.

then I left. with a smile on my face after reading a religious brochure where all the propaganda was jew, about jew comediants, jew restaurants, jew pizzerias, jew banks, jew hotels, jew eveything...

Damn... and they dare to say Nazis were racist and organized...

Absenta, Vino Rojo y Martini

His majesty, at the Mouffetard's Narguille

Absynth, red Wine and Martini....

New Clan. new Life. why a new clan? The only thing I kept in common with the last one was dear Laura. now, she seems to fade away as my 20 years do.

New clan and by so. we are talking today about these people. German and Lautje. I met lautje cause Pietje gave me a envellope for her. I brought it to holland Quite scared ( no you never bring enclosed envellopes when you fly) and then, one day she called to recieve the thing. to that point nothing nteresting happens until the day the lady and I started talking about OUR life without any censorship or any taboos inbetween. I was Sick and Heartbroken as she pronounced, along with a undisclosed puropsal " come to Holland". I accepted and Sick, I took a Metro to Gallieni and from there.. Paris Bruxelles and RotterdaM. There I did my first Autostop trip to amsterdam.. the rest is history.........

As for the Man.. a ballad of the fallen angels.. that's the best way I can find to explain the relationship bonding two persons . Cowoby bebop and Women. talks about loneliness in Europe and Cold in europeans. Imposition of Colombianity in this Shithole. Living like princes as we Dwell among rats... Being GOD without a Fan.. Being Lord of flies...

so I have decided. all for one and One For all.. as there is Red Wine, Absynth and martini... Life Will be a pleasure to enjoy.. even when your ass is on the stake....

Kisses To all.. From muntenia With love.

Me.

The Day Of The King

" I am God...this is my World"

and that was it, the day of the king. where angelica did not call, where camilo tried to fuck it all up, where my parents woke me up.. where I had to present my final work. Where besa came as a surprise at 12:04

Thank you very much to the ones that remebered me.
thanks to the winged woman for her writings
thanks for Annabel and the candles of the cake that never existed
thanks to Era for the delightful day
thanks to alexis for dreams
thanks to you all

I turned old back again.
reborn into universal adulthood.

21 Is all You need

Rebirth

To Whom Might be interested

His majesty Engel Atreyu and on his Honor Lucas Giraldo Will be Celebrating Their twenty first Birthday The 24th January Of the Present Year. If your person whishes to grant any Kind of Congratulation Feel Obliged to adress it to this phone number 00 33 6 73157809 this e mails engelatreyu@yahoo.com, casul@hotmail.com . FOr the postal address feel free to contact us and details will be sent prior after reception of your quest.

Sa majeste Engel Atreyu et en son honneur Lucas vont feter leur vingteunieme anniversaire le 2' janvier de cette annee. si vous voulez adresser une preuve de vos salutations adressez vous aux coordonees ci dessus. Merci

Su Majestad Engel atreyu y en honor suyo Lucas celebraran el 24 de Enero de el presente mes su cumpleanos numero 21. si desea enviar sus felicitaciones o cualquier expresion las coordenadas anunciadas anteriormente estan a su disposicion. Gracias Infinitas.

Sin arma, Sin Odio, Sin Violencia

.....con impetu.

Finger Linger

La foto no tiene nada que ver con lo que esta abajo. hoy me la mando esta persona. hoy pense en esta persona. hoy esta persona me saco la piedra....



5 Facts about me. by The Lady in Red

Volviendo a aquello del espanol, porque hoy es veinte de enero y estoy bastante emputado de haberme acostado a las 9 y levantado a la una. aca van cinco datos "intimos" sobre mi revlujada vida... Que se supone que debo decir? no lo se, hay algunos que hablan de como se echan champu de como comen o duermen... Cinco datos .. poyehali! senores.

1-Me gusta, cuando como, tener una servilleta aproximidad. me encanta romperlas en banditas y hacerunas especies de hilitos con los que juego y aveces, accidentalmente me los como

2-me gusta encerrarme en el bano durante horas, ya sea a leer a dormir a banarme o quien sabe a que. el bano, como dice mi buena amiga Era, es el lugar mas importante de una casa

3-Le echo hielo al cereal ya sea chocokrispies zucaritas o esas cosas

4- cuando me despierto en las mananas lo primero que hago es meterme las manos en los calzones - no a hacer lo que creen -y cuando me acuerdo, echarme un padrenuestro. sino, generalmente me pongo a insultar al cristiano de turno que me despierta y mirando el reloj empiezo a decir " solo cinco minutos mas.. solo cinco minutos mas" luego, me voy a la cocina, hago el desayuno, como, me bano y es cuando salgo de la ducha que me despierto verdaderamente.

5- casi todo lo que hago, lo cnvierto en una apuesta con el destino " si logro encestar la botella de leche en la caneca es porque manana me va a ir bien en tal cosa"

Le paso la bola al que la quiera cojer, las opciones siendo pocas, va a olavia y leeloo.
Si quieren saber

2.0 enero

Version 2.0

Para escuchar con La oreja de van gogh.. 20 de Enero

TOday is the 20th, the day where the loved one Is supposed to get out of a train. One Year Ago I was hardly stroke in the heart by the Laic Angel I Loved With all I had.
Her eI am today. Saying goodbye to the one I love, Trying to say hello to the One I Loved, Trying to love someone else. trying to find someone to love
and all this Weird things happen. Trips to Brussels, Barcelona, Italy, Tirana and Saint PEtersburg???? to see yuriy.. my ukrainian Friend that I met in prague... Just to learn some Russian and find again the mad doctor I Had a chance to know, whilst talking about his life as a Red army soldier in Afghanistan...

20 january... And I have my School year in jeopardy, my life in jeopardy, the russian roulette that remained with the drum between the trigger... the poison that turned into absynth.. the heart that became stone.. the love turned out to be a fake plastic plant.....

at least I stopped being a clandestinian today. I had my papers... Fucking Frenchies... If they only remebered Grandpa Died for them just because his wife Came from here...

On your honor Angelica. On your Behalf Besa. up to you Era...

On my pleasure. as Usual

Auza, Histoire d' une érotique

For Maria Auza. Theres only One True Fan, the number one

I never knew how did she come to find me. I remember it was in the period of Kalashnikovs and Sandwiches. where Lord Engel didnt Care about life and couldn' t die. Where Russian Roulette Was turning me into a millionnaire and Angelica Manga into a living misery. I never understood why did her childish face pushed me to yell her Pornograpic words and built with her a relationship based on written sex and Phonecalls that made of my number (0033142814775) a hotline where I paid to Fuck the brains out of ourselves.
She appeared. Saying she liked the Mess I was In, the Mess I wrote, The mess I lived and The gypsiness of it all. She said her name Was Auza, she called me usted, and she never understood why she felt physically attracted to someone she couldn't see.. the ghost in me...
She said a lot about her parents. about herself and showed me a pictures. I found out that my turn on with her was to spit on her eyes as I tenderly touched her cheeks

She dissappeared. then Reappeared. as a lesbian, as a stupid, as someone else, as a dream, as the little cousin you always dream to rape, as the dirt in the ballet dance, as the small obession you could not care but all you do is think of that, as the military strategist.. as her

She listened to me, gave me manga back. gave me besa back.. just to have me... and take me back

I talk to her.. because it makes me insane

Fuck auza. All this time.. and I know you so well I cannot say how the fuck do you smell

MMVI

Deux-Mille-Six

Challenges for this satanicnewcomming year

- Learn Russian
- Go to Germany
-Return to prague, Amsterdam and Tirana
-go to Barcelona
-Suceed!
-see my family
-become a millionaire
-kiss The albanian Feeling nit the butterflies but the two winged eagles inside me
-have sublime sex
-never wake up
-turn 21
-drink martinis and have sex in a cup of tea
-find a house
- become a frenchie ( do we really want that)
-kiss a black woman
-meet another czech person
-run naked
-have a fight ( and win)
-sell blood
-go home
-eat an arepa
-meet Lo and Germie
-walk my dog
-play the violin again
-see violeta
-Dance under the Rain
-breathe
-meet raël, Jenna Jameson, Charles manson or Silvio Berlusconi
-smile
-close my eyes and see it all around

- dream-

Cronica de una Muerte anunciada

This is the portrait of Annabel. annabel is a friend of mine, One of my sources of hope and the example of a hopeless human being. annabel is the Kind of Rose that never blooms. Annabel is like the black stars, like the eclipses, Like an aurora Borealis. Annabel Is the counterbalance of my life - not in my life-

We were going to get married so I could become a french citizen... again.

Death is comming. as I already told you. last time I wrote I was standing Somewhere in Albania. I am Back in France now. Besa Turned 22 and I got her a present that someone - now owning a green Beret- took. I tried to make herday. I could not. she called, said she needed to see me, to give me a my christmas present and to have a chat " because things cannot continue like this"

Imagine Archangel Gabriel Sending you an e mail saying" you are going to die on friday"... that's how I felt. even if The story isn't running well I would like it to grow and be like it used to and not like it is.

We saw eachother again. I brought cake. We sang albanian song with her friends and Era. We laughed and for once.. I wanted to kiss her again

She Stayed cold. with those staring eyes looking for somewherelse than me..

I Thought of the past... of the ex that had a Girl some days ago... of the ex that looks back for me, of the ex that became a lesbian, of the ex that gets to miss me again. of the ones that were not my ex.. of them all. I thought of the present.. standing still in Holland, in Belgium, in Senegal, in Prague in france... I remembered the past... here in paris.. with her... there in Tirana...

why don't you come back honey..

It could be sweet.... it is so Sweet for me

but no one knows....

It could be sweet

I put my besa on it

The Day Of The King

Today Is the Day Of The king. It's 8 January Right??? 8 january. Today Angelica's Father Died, Two Years Ago, While I was ina desert Beach, Wrking With My Father as a Carpenter in a Shipyard.I remember I went to the dentist tat day. he lent me is PC to check mail ang Manga Said " dad is dead". I remeber that day, when I called the Sweet Valentine, The so called Spanish magical fernanda because it was her birthday, like the queen she used to be, on the Day of the king.... Elvis

Today, Two Years After That Souvenirs Haunt me. last Year. I was in Paris, 31 rue de maubeuge, With Martin At my side. I thought a million times how to send an SMS to angelica expressing sweetness and company on this day. I remember calling fernada, who was having icecream with te reason of our tarnation. Today, On tat day, The day when Angel custodio died, The day when she Was born, Besa comes back From Tirana... and things seems not to be good.

I have lots of work to do, this morning I Did something Wrong With Era. I am Waiting, Waiting for Life to hit the first. I am Wating. for the opotunity of a happy 8th January

I am Waiting... as my body is calm buy muy soul, deep inside, Shakes.. like having a Mere parkinson disease

Living Room

I would like to hold a picture of my living room, Resuming my life and Trip o tirana like this.
I would Like My life To become this once again
I Would like you to believe that Everything can change and That I didt It all
I woul Like to believe That I still do care

25 december 2005, In the Living Room Tiranë, Shqiperi, balkan Europe, the World:




Siamo soli.... Siamo vivi.... Creo en los suenos, en el pasado y en el futuro, en el manana de las pesadillas del presente. parce que tout peut changer, parce que rien est écrit, parce que rien est totalement pourri et personne est totalement froid

Je crois aux reves.. et je tiens a celui la. le plus beau des cauchemars

Durrës; TIranë and Papa Petrit

Have you ever been to bogota's Zona rosa? Tirana Is the Exact copy of that place now called by colombian High-socially-positioned-youth "la T". Imagine a place Where misery, Dirt, Luxury, Expensive and cheap cafes Mix together among People Of every Kind and Color. Tiranas downtown looks like Ibagués as you can see the Mosquee and the clock tower Hidden being skanderbeg's statue, In one of the palaces, an Albanian Remake of la Marseillaise e Delacroix rises as you can see albanian nation representatives holding a red flag with a two headed Eagle it. As from tirana I have nt Much to say as I felt to much. felt like home ina place not at all like home, Were I spent time with papa petrit looking at him playing with his toy; a juice maker wth which he used to make Weird juices for era and me. at the same time, Dissociated frm this side of the Family there Was Mama Lida, Who took us to her parent's house, old classical and communist albanian with whom i had un discovering the places' past and te persons' lives.

I Met Juna, eras best friend, some sort of Russian looking albanian, all charming and Sweet that I just Wanted to hold in my arms like a new born puppy or kitty as I also met her friends and, as tey all were nice, they never unerstood what the fuck was a colombian doing in that forgotten place of the World

I was besa, on surprise. she didnt' smile as she saw me comming from the diesel cafe's Door. I missed her... and for once I can Say.. I mised Paris, the old paris, That day We First Dated, at the Opera house, when I was an hour late and arrived with a bon bon bun and some bastard shyness that didn't let me kiss her

I missed her. and Now I do, seeing she Was Quite of all the negative side of a oyage where I slept on streets, Looked like a beggar and was treated like a prostitute...
In the end She was all I can call bad, all I can call magnificent, all I can call insane, Malsain
As for Era.. she gave me the essence of life
and juna fiori and andy.. you gave me good memories
Faleminderit Shqiptarë..... Gezuar...
as I Was Rehat.

Bari and the Southern mafia

6 o clock bari, looked like albania, everything was written in albanian. Jojo Woke me up as we walked towards the cold sea. Got to the port where the italians invented a complicated mechanism to make the albanians make rows. they failed. That day I called Era and finally after trying lots of things she found an angel to send me 50€ and some hope. I waited and bought a ticket but in the end, getting to the boat the skip got me off because of the visa. I went to sleep in the Port's Waiting room but couldnt as the guards Woke me up and asked me to leave. I looked for albanian trucks to send me home. in ispear I went to the train sation decided to not pay the ticket to Milano and from Milano to save my ass as it was possible. in the Port's gate, a bald man, the owner of the Line that made the Bari durres ( durazzo) trip gave me a paper, the Consulates office. I decided to stay in Bari, 22 december, as Jojo waited for me in the station along with some african men and no perverts. next morninr, 5 o clock I went to the shqiperise consulate where I met a peruvian man in exile, one of the eads o sendero luminoso whose name I don't remeber, trying to get to albania for an interwiew. the consul gave me a free Visa ang Good luck. i got in the boat as the customs officer tl me that my papers expired and I had to return by plane. 10 hours after that I placed My feet in albania. Walked amongst starving gyspsy Kids and Saw Era's Face, daddy's fancy car and Albanian Pure air

The nightmare Was over.. and I believed, for that day, in father christmas

Ancona, Bari and jojo, the Wonderful Czech

I gt to ancona at lunchime. Credit card didnt work; some pity made the tobacco shop lady to give me a call to albania and a busticket to the Port. Once in the port I prayed Luris, an old and yet Rotting friend of a friend to help me and Her. Besa Was nice, Still couldnt tak to her, the cellphone was dead and all I had Were 10 euros and some Hard Luck on my neck. I made the line if we can call that a line; albanians, like greeks, macedonians and montenegrians dont know what the fuck is an Indian line so i was bounced back and back and back and during all day They didnt give me the ticket as I could not affrd it and cause I needes a visato get to albania, Oh surprise... I was in deepshit and needed to spend the night there. went to the church, the priest gave me 3 euro pizza and a phone call to albania, sent me to the streets; back in the port, where I was about to sleep. a man came to me. "Sprache deutsch" h said as I answered that I spoke a little bit... in the end we communicated in what we called european: a mix of french english italian german and czech. his name was jojo, he was an art restaurer and now traveler for free. the man crossed europe paid by charity and he was in anconca trying to get to greece.... he gave me a beer, he proposed me, probably the thing that saved my life.... Would you go to bari with me, tonight at 2 o clock, on clandestinity, without paying the ticket???

I said yes... and in the station a short little man came
as I was asleep
Police woke me up and the man came speaing spanish he said
yore in trouble right? I ave 20 euro for you
then, the made a fist with is hands and shook it infront of his mouth
Blow me, and they are yours
I smiled, then told him he was sick..
I stood and went with jojo in the train
600 kilometres of sleep.
Bari.. at the next moning

Shqiperia

Albanian Phoenix

It was late, We werein the bed and again she did not believe in my promises. I will see you I said as she wanted to cry again because sharing sheets and martini dreams with me became a shamefull pain. she wanted to cry as making love in glasses of Tea Martini and Milk was probably the best memory in our lives. They departed, Say godbye and Terrified by the airport gave a prayer to my god asking for faith and strenght.. I was going to durres, the albanian adriatic port Where nothing is too much and where gypsy kids dont look and act like my Kindred.

two days passed. i Had missed Besa and Era, both of the hemispheries of my heart ( even if I am half Dead). I started at porte d orleans, Asked feli for a blessing and bought some groceries. thay Day the Weaher Was dry and cold, the skyes were grey and wind came as the blister of a sleeping giant. there was no one and someone stopped, dropped me at corbeil essonnes and there a got a spaniard truck to lyon, very nice man, bought me food and felt scared of marseille as there, close to monaco I got Vicente, a colombian truckdriver that moved me to Torino and from there julio, this old spanish driver, so religious and sweet and catholic that took me to genova...; from there an Austrian Franz dropped me at Lucca from where I took the one to Ancona. There...here does the Story begin