Een Jaar van eenzaamheid

it has been a year.
a year that I left for strasbourg hitchhiking, to get my love back
a Year since e.priftu Left me as I came in amsterdam
A year since amsterdam became a bittersweet place
A year since Era started behaving like a bitch - and i followed up like an ass to that-
A year since my house feels like home
A year since my friends all dissapoint me
since Hannan became a nice surprise, from time to time
since Annabel did miracles - by breaking my feet-
A year, when Angelica became another option.
and a symbol of redeption.
A year, sinde the last first of may
and a year, since i have been missing you
A year, that you have been wasting your time without me
and that I let you hummiliate me - for free, no strings attached-
a year since sex was good
since extraordinary became normal.
365 days that i last felt your touch, and iris left me waiting sunken in the nederlek
2 full moons since it all had sense, and being there was senseless.
A year, since i feel alone, i feel good
I feel dull
and i ve been waiting

a Year, Since the last first of may, and the day, like all the other ones, i thought, you were an irresponsible bitch

and i am still here,
a year after that, and the year next to it

because I will be there. in my year of solitude, with you

Since, it was a year Ago, that i first Cried aanvallen to my world

Redhoods

Querida, como decirte que te quiero.
que sos una patana empedernida
una guache sin decoro
un oscuro objeto rojo de deseo
un placer despedidor
una buena amiga que siempre falla
una sorpresa en vano
una esperanza que no llega
un mundo sin fronteras, pero con una buena policia de aduanas.
un suenho hecho en china

una decepcion orgullosa
y enorgullecedora

Alguien especial, que mas que estarse perdiendo, me pierde a mi

por eso nena, no te doy besos. tu escupes, yo te cacheteo... y al final, solo al Final, te Quiero.
Deja la pataneria, El rojo es pas provocar a los toros, no para que las caperuzas sean arrabaleras de plaza.

Stroopwaffels

To make a stroopwaffle you need to things: the stroop and the waffle.

To make Love, you need a man, and a woman.

To start a Fight you need..practically nothing.

To be redeemed you need: the dutchie and the dutchie wannabe

Incomming Paddy

Incomming paddy, Say goodbye Dear angel, Fly to the east, Where churches are witchcastles. Desire Is human and Poverty is the way of the kings.

Incomming Engel, Back to the land of our glory. where madness turned tender. And Derelictes a perfect elite.

Incomming Annvallen, As change is a need to stay the same. as Routine Killed all the Scherezade wannabees. Get ready, pack your bag with only a toothbrush and a gun. pray for your name and say goodbye to new Hellos...

behold the Silent and invisible revolution comming in

The day the sky was Pink

- Vengo a llevarte al infierno querido
- y si te dijera que ya estamos en él? que pasaria?

Fue todo lo que le entendi. no hubo necesidad de mil palabras ni de muchos encuentros para saber quien eras de donde venias y a donde me llevabas. La verdad me lo esperaba querida. Habia dejado de llover hace algun tiempo y cuando volvi no me esperaba ver de nuevo por la ventana aquel gris panorama lugubre pero satinado de viejos recuerdos por vivir. No tengo ni idea quien sos, pero te conoci antes en alguna pesadilla de satin de esas en las que nunca quiero despertar - y en las cuales continuo delirando-. Sabia que venias a tentarme o depronto a acabarme, a poner a prueba mi falta de sensatez humana - si, esa que a todos nos pone un precio, ya sea en euros, en pesos en dolares o en Lei rumanos- entendiste que habia renunciado a mi precio y mi naturaleza humana declarandome un angel entre estos sucios mortales que vinieron a creerse mas evolucionados que sus hermanos mayores, los simios primates. Estos simios, personajes con los unicos que podia hablar de absenta politica y religiones me acordaban de ti ( aun antes de que llegaras) por aquello de ser prohibidos no solo en nuestras vidas sino tambien en nuestras perversiones. Y tu, una de esas que se dibuja en finos terciopelos sin saber a donde va ni donde lo busca caes frente a mi, como si yo fuese tu dealer, el que te sacara de la miseria humana que tanto nos corroe y nos pudre, buscando la forma de voltear la situacion y de por un dia, un minuto o tan solo os tres segundos de nuestro juicio final; dejar de fingir todo este decoro y mandar el codigo al carajo, reduciendo la situacion a matematicas endorfinas y chocolate. Me gustan tus juegos de suicida mojigata y tus tecnicas de bluffer avanzadas. Soy menos refinado en el Amor y en el odio. Amo lo que puedo odiar, y odio lo que puedo amar - y eso lo entendi cuando odie esta situacion, hablando de ella para cubrirle en la sal que necesito de mi lado- porque la mala suerte aveces nena, en este mundo de mugre que vivimos, puede ser nuestra mejor aliada.

Me hablas, me juzgas, detras de las bragas invisibles que me niego a ver - porque no existen mas alla de mi mente retorcida, pero la unica que parece ver con claridad lo que tenemos mas alla de nuestro alcance- y con una plegaria le pido perdon a los dioses por el pecado cometido, por la sangre por derramar y por el Odio proximo a amar. Tres segundos me bastaron para construirme castillos en el aire contigo y pensar en como derrumbarlos, por la puerta de atras y solo con el soplo, cual lobo feroz que alfuna vez fui. y te veo, angelical y cundida en plumas - como yo, como yo, solo como yo- viejo diablo entre los angeles y trahidor a su naturaleza. confieso Querida, que me produces mas Quimica que la ecuacion de la relatividad y que esto se escapa a toda matematica. No se que pretendes, pero te reconozco que por primera vez en un infinito cercano al cero, me siento sorprendido por la jugada de uno de los tuyos.

entonces, seran las balas, las damas chinas bajo su sobrenombre de filles de joie o simplemente un ajedrez en el que los peones y caballos mueren en honor de un rey que se quiere comer a la reina?

Me gustan estos juegos sutiles de odios y amores, de prohibidos permisivos.

De Laaste Aanvallen Droom en Hallucinatie

blog take two

this sanctuary has been dead for some time. inspiration fell aside with the pain of the torture i was undergoing under a spineless smile. from out of nowhere, unnamed ghosts began to appear. People without faces and voices surrounded my head. Life turned out to be a martini glass again and the eyes of the persons talking to me became universes way more complex than Mars or Macondo. the consequences of past experiences giving unexpected presents. Mediocre could bes and avant gard hasbeens. I find myself changed now, 23 years came as the first one in life. no expectations and no dissapointments. a trip to the mountains and the peace and stress of skiing made of me the man I was before. I had Finally changed to stay the same, the same king I used to be. an Invisible emperor, an unexpected angel or a mere miracle man among other walking the same lines of us all. I understood again the importance of silence. the pleasures of laughter beyond sound and act. the ecstasy of miscarried love and the aesthetics of Violence. I figured out that there was no sense on fighting struggles and paths under so calculated flawless plans... but that I was meant to charge and throw myself to the wolves trusting myself and the hazards hidden on the air and counting on the eventual accidents of life as a could be and the importance of improvisation in dreams. I dream again alive. I live again my dreams, Where I ride zebra butterflies that go on fire every equinnox. I live again this strange avantgarde. so decadent that's just fancy lifestyle. a Fashionista way of being a saint, a saint under trash ambient. a lady dressed to be the mistress ( knowing she keeps command). I am now changing this, as I want them to be the same. I come to paint light in black and purity in blind technicolors. I come to kiss you in exchange for death.to sacrifice my place in paradise so I can make of this hell we're in, our own eden.

I am comming, don't expect me. I might already be there; inside you - and you're having goosebumps-. I turn into your favourite nightmare so we can dream together, for a last time probably, and Pretend we're unhappy but perfect. I'll sell you your mistakes as your charm and my flaws as a glamour personnality. I'll kiss you again making you think it is on the sake of goodnight but knowing it might be the last time I'll dare to love you.

I stand again. and I am not Falling back there. welcome to the world where your hallucinations are real.

Welcome to hell, this Eden of mine

Nonchalance

Suddenly, frogs started to fall from the skies
the snow went thicker and the air became a single erotic aroma never known before my mankind.
noises turned cleaner and it all became golden black
people took out their shining armors
and as the frogs bounced against the floor...
I Sang in the rain, smiling
as Finally I had Won the war we were in.

Back On My Feet

Estaba enfermo, para aquellos que no lo sabian, me cogio un virus de esos bien feos y quede en el suelo. Heme de vuelta, Pasito, pero de vuelta

Cosas raras estan pasando. tengo mucho que contar pero he perdido la costumbre de escribir. La cabeza se me quedo en Holanda, los buenos relatos y los buenos planes se reservaron a un bar en rotterdam al que juro algun dia volver. He aprendido a extranar a German, que en una semana estara casado. Laura, mi mejor amiga, anda perdida cuando mas la necesito y mi inspiracion se fue para no volver ya que nada me fluye por las venas en estos dias.

Llevo 4 dias con una fiebre de montana rusa, de esas que oscilla entre los 40 y los 35; como las crisis de la edad media. Halucine un par de veces. Hasta pensé en ti Fernanda Vanegas, y simpatica estabas en pleno delirio - y por eso supe que deliraba- mientras mi cama era el mapa de alguna ciudad alemana en la cual se paseaban mi primo y sus amigos y yo, con mis escalofrios no los dejaba avanzar por taparme con las cobijas. Delire hasta contigo querida amante inmortal e inmoral. y ha de pasar que el delirio traspaso a la realidad e hice lo que era inposible. trasgredi mis propios limites y aquellos de lo sensato y de mi inmoral.

estoy en busca de algo, y voy a encontrarlo solo, con la ayuda de mi dragon de la suerte.

Atreyu y falkor, sobre las tierras de Fantasia.

Haagse snowflakes.

I'm back. why does paradise last such a short time. I went to the Netherlands Again. The netherlands, the closest country to hell. My Beloved Amsterdam; an architect's perfect prostitute. My beloved Rotterdam and Her extremely lovely aggresive people; comming from everywhere. Den Haag, with her horrible calenian Drug dealers and streets, became the beautiful scheveningen where I would find, unexpectedly looking for milosevic's deathplace Laura, Iris, Peter and you dear snowflake... You make angels feel home over there.

Why Do I feel home in amsterdam, Walking on the Damrak like the Gaira beach where I was born, Taking my frenchie friends that came with me to look for old existant burgers kings, crappy coffee shops and un elegant walletjes - brothels- and aude couldn't show up ( and damn, i would have loved to see her) in the city where i met glory and misery. I crossed the grachts like my own conscience rivers and I Dreamt my reality standing below the dam as I wrote "Prone to daydream" in every page of a pink notebook as wonderful strange people becme part of the history of our life for seconds and I plannes to escape to the hague without any expectations.

I remmeber the first time i came to the hague, 3 years ago with Laura, We skipped trains from rotterdam and we got to the holland Spoor den haag station. you can see a pic of that in the Panorama
last time i was there era came with me to see my german in Leiden. we were waiting for a ride home in the hague, a ride that we nearly missed.
Den haag changed since i left, from having 0 friends there and a bad feeling about the whole city, all of them moved there or went there to see me as it became to look like home. Laura grew up and peter was about to become one of the promises of modern architecture as iris became a happy woman and a grown up as the snowflake was even more surprising than I could say...

Damn, I have no words to describe that.

Aaanvallen Nederland!

Remember Remember...

The fifth of November...
And the state of mind that came to me on that day... -a spineless Smile-

Nenesitlenà

(Lightness "ceska")

Lately I have been having nice Dreams.Questions and dilemmas turning out to become simpler and easier to analyse. past turning like wine in glosious Reasons for a present and souvenirs old toys we'll one day play again with. I have been drawing myself a plan. contingency for a Life. The how to become the someone you want to be thing. I' ve realized I have nothing to really complain for. except the fact I am only lacking o my deepest desires and needs. I'm Armed with the basics. Good friends - some of them getting married- and good culture - I stand 20 hours in a cocktail without shutting up-. the same as the Arrival of juan miguel has become a way of vengeange revenge and payback ( Three words are not enough to describe my sehnsucht about last year's homeless state) of 2006's fall and 2007.

Yesterday I went to bed with no glory, except the one of feeling confortable again. I made myself the finest of coffees and decided that it was time to stop smoking so much. I went on the bed, alone, no lullabies, just the thoughts of conversations with juan migul and Ben. Curiously people talks to us about the same subject without us asking about it. It was all on the attitude. the fetish of style and charm has come back in my life. I can no nothing except welcome it. I called austria and the entire world. I was born again.. a long time ago since the day I died.. but this was the first step of my newborn life.

I feel temporarily emancipated. I feel alright. not fine, just alright. I do not need nothing. I want the World. the world that was mine, the old ways. the days the butcher killed with no need of ammo. the days where I could smile looking at someones eyes.. I miss Catalina.

It is time to leave. I conquered Berlin ---ü b e r a l l e s---... Hang on London.

Hang on all on you..

Abranse Gavilanes, que Vuelve el Aguila Real.

God be With you

God be With you all

Hold on, Stand still, rally on ground. Don't run, Breathe and inhale with your eyes open. Feel those 3 seconds of life where all the eternity you have lived flashes beyond your eyes. Fear is an old fashioned feeling for you now. Heartbeats become the main drum of the symphony of the moment. Excitement Amok and Panic exist no more. 5 senses Turning into 6, then to none. The whole surrounding becomes a single detailed technicolor image in stereo sound where you feel the presence and identity of every single and mere detail. Feel. Tension and stupor. Feel it all.

Let it all bind you..

make it all a part of you.

then, only then, you might have found God

Duty

some think they came to life for a reason, to do something and to contribute to history with something else than being a living bill of oxygen and food.it has ben a long time I have been obessed with my role in this game. since I was born I never understood what I was really meant to do expecting to do something useful and fulfilling, something I would take a pleasure on doing. I dreamt of being important before even being someone. I wanted to change things and I still concurr with that idea.

As a kid i wanted to be a violinist. that proyect is still on my mind. I never looked for becoming menuhin but to be able to touch people without my hands somewhere deeper in their hearts. I grew up, realized that the problem about becoming a Violinist was that I had to become a musician and that musicians are, in general cases, hedonistic beasts with a vanity problem - as I am- but still, thet lacked on the mental consciousness of the other ones and specially themselves. Years after I tought about being an inventor, creating techonolgies, ideas, machines, medicines, ways of life, laws, new lands to live, explore, exploit, extrude and conquer. That kept in me even if time proved that it wasn't a matter of ideas but Ideals.. and by so, money, power and publicity.

I became an " architect" to correct god's unfinished work. he took 6 days creating the earth, the universe, the milkyway and even Mars - we now understand where all those chocolate bar names come from-. I still pass my day along teachers that praise themselves as their own god and students that pretend to be Justice with rayban's on, judging and talking on life work and everything around their lives as if they held absolute truth. I bore myself there even if I have to say, I 've met wonderful people that inspired me to be the man I am today - unperfect but stangely good-. architecture gave me curiosity on life, on death, on poverty, on love and on friendship. It brought me a strong connection with my parents and with the places I see. It drew the importance of the scenario in my everyday history and it brought me a pairs of muses like Annabel that I shall never forget, Architecture became my duty, my duty as a writer, as a lover, as a man and as a father.

I shall be then a pornographic architect, changing the way you live think and even breathe. It's not that I am right and you are wrong. we all are wrong and right. I am not looking to impose my ideas on this world, but to impose the dilema about stopping forcing people to do what they have to do. I dream of a day we all enjoy our work, our life and even our boredom. I dream of a day where I can talk to you and you'll answer the phone on me again, not for a fight but for cofee time and a Martini you owe me since that first time we met. I dream for a day People would understand why do I struggle for them and Why do I smile even covered in pigshit or Gold. I have a fetish on the day I would all go unormal and we'll all star running on eachother, happy, without the vain armor we're covered on. I dream of seeing you biuld a Life in Newcastle and to return over there, in the east, to see you sing again like Waltraud and then Sink in that olde bed of yours from where I used to throuw you down while you were surfing your nightmares. I dream of kebab kisses and Forbidden sex being allowed. I dream of the first time we kissed and you sent me home. I dream of my mom and dad. I dream of the devil dressed in white and jesus in a cadillac. I dream of My long and beautiful hair again. Of the man I used and wanted to be. I Live the dream of my duty free.

Cent Wilsons de Solitude

The army Of ONE

Paris est une ville ou les gens viennent pour se rendre à leur rendez-vous avec la solitude. Paris, un des endroits les plus peuplés du monde. des rues où l'on parle des langues inouies et où l'on rencontre des anges des diables et des tarés. Paris, Je t aime. Paris, je t' encule. Paris, Je t' enmerde.

Les gens me font rire, spécialement à Paris; Petite carnivale où l'on marche tous avec le désir d' etre regardés du bas et on nous crache du haut. Il faut être prétentieux à Paris, Il faut être Malsain à Paris. Serrez les dents mesdames et messieurs. On vous crache dans le trou de balle et vous commencez à faire une gueule Bizzarre ( comme si vous priez pour la première fois en attente d' un miracle qui ne vous fera que du mal) Paris, La ville grise de la melancholie - parce que personne aime à Paris-. Lutetia... la ville où j' ai appris à mordre fort et à ne pas lâcher.

Il dépend de celui qui passe que je sois tombe ou trésor, que je parle où je me taise, ceci ne tiens qu' a toi. ami, n' entre pas sans désir. c' est écrit sur un des musées du trocadéro. Personne y rentrera - comme dans ce musée- Ne vous en faitez pas, vous vous y installez pour une durée indétérminée mais vous savez que c' est un truc passager. Vous y ferez jamais partie, meme si votre maman est edith Piaf où si je suis votre grand pere. vous y serez seul et misérable.. et vous allez prétendre que ca vous plait ( et ce qui est grave, vous aller le croire)

On dit dans mon continent, le nouveau beau monde, une copie cheap de l' ancien, que l' on peut pas mourir sans être venu à Paris. Paris est la cigarrette qui vous sème votre cancer. c' est le début de votre infartus. Paris nuit à la santé et aux spermatozoïdes. Paris vous tue... mais au fond, on estès tous pour ca, pour crever un jour en se souvenant de l'entrjambe de la tour eiffel où de la beauté idéalisée d' une Parisienne que l'on a croisé dans la rue - et qui peut venir de votre meme coin où même de l' autre bout du monde- en retrouvant en elle la femme parfaite avec un joli défaut qui la redescend sur terre - tout un prétexte pour ne pas être le diable parmi les anges-.

et je vous regarde, chers collègues, Parisiens, Fils bâtards de la Marianne et de la Marseillaise. enfants d' une Patrie qui n' a jamais eu de revolution concluse. je vous regarde et vos idéaux sont restés des belles idées oubliées sous la poussière. vous ne voyez que par votre cul et votre indifference et arrogance distinguee que l' on deguise en orgueil - parce que ca fait plus chic, comme une merde arrachée à un ruban dior- c' est ce qui vous accable sans arrêt et vous fout parterre...

j' étais l' un d' entre vous. mais maintenant je ne suis pas un parisien de plus. je suis un passager dans vos rues, qui puent la merde la pisse et le mauvais coup. Vous sentez mauvais, vous êtes hors contexte, à côté de la plaque comme on le dit ici. Vous n' etez qu' un paquet de demodés persuadez que c' est vous qui avez cree le beau et l histoire et la liberté sans vous rendre compte que vous etes esclaves de ce qui vous entoure. Que le Roi des cons habite à Paris et que la couronne s'éténd de Clignancourt à Porte d' Orleans - la ligne 4 étant le plus gros joyeau de tel sacre objet-. Ils sont où les sans culottes - au féminin merci-. ils sont où les rêves de jeunesse, les délires de romance, l' amour malsain et la gueule de taré qui joue son propre jeu?

rendez vous compte... vous etes seul à Paris, entouré d' un tas d' amis imaginaires qui n' existent pas (et auxquels vous obeissez). vous n' etes rien d' autre que le décor de mon Pire Basquiat.

Cocktail for Melancholy ( to be served With a Hollandse Roeketje)

I found you, no matter when, no matter how, no matter the reason. Somewhere along the path of my life i decided to step onto yours not by accident but with the clear intention of commiting one of my legendary crimes and probably my most beloved masterpiece. We met, unexpectedly but it all came along with the inspiration of the moment. An eye glare, secret cornered smile, tender cheek retraction and a sudden change of the voicetone... what a perfect prelude to Porn opera (cf. the nibelungen) and Future borning hate.

I remeber you, as the latest object of fascination of the time. You came out of nowhere and I have to accept you were even more flawless than any of the creations my imagination had ever done. I think I always knew you were about to come to my life.. but as I said i was the one that stepped onto yours already making myself clear that I would not fall inlove with you - but that I wanted it so much- and that in this whole sory I would be the one carrying the pain of all my crime. I came and Sought for your heart's achilles heel finding it along my own soul's. I did what I had to do.. it's my nature baby; I kiss, I kill, I Love, I Die...

Then time passes, this is where the Art of war becomes a simple cooking lesson - or chemistry-: How to make a coctail made of memories and old feelings. I never forgot who you were, who you pretended to be and who you became as I always remembered the person I created from you. Someone perfect, Inhuman, angelical, tender loving and smart whose cruelty wasn't more than a charming game and the foolish moments were just the perfect cadence of our deepest moments... Time passed and I forgot you, rusted by time and covered by the dust hidden in my memory. In the attic of my mind, there where I keep my favourite times and glorious days. It's so silent now, we rarely find ourselves together wandering for eachother in secret because Pride keeps us alive in exchange of the sacrifice of our story... Pride bent us in silence and silence slowly became indifference and it was all a mere parody of a tragedy that should have never taken place and of which we can do nothing now, except smile like a pair of hipocrits lying to themselves about the weight of the past and the present of our bloodstreaming rate....

It died..

no need to shake, no need to stir, no need to ice or even to use a fancy glass

then suddenly old read mail, lost and found objects, a burnt by time picture, forgotten senseless presents, nightmares under satin sheets of tender violent love and coincidence brought it all back to persuade me that I actually do miss you - and that you feel the same for me-

Do you feel My absence in solitude now as I despise yours?

Renaissance

El renacimiento.

El lunes empieza mi vida de nuevo. digo de nuevo porque es un borron y cuenta nueva drastico. Llegamos pensando que iba a ser mas drastico, cambiando de universidad, de amigos, inclusive de nombre y de situacion. para aquellos que hasta ahora no entienden de que se les esta hablando. hace un ano volvi a Francia con mi vida trazada y organizada, toda la materia prima para construir el "sueno suramericano" y todo se volvio cenizas. vivi en la calle un buen tiempo y lo que redujo ese tiempo a poco fueron las buenas intenciones de algunos buenos amigos mios y de lo que con el tiempo seria mi peor carnicera. Me levante de la mierda como el fenix, pero pareciera que el ano pasado no dejaba de llover sobre mis llamas.

El lunes todo empieza de nuevo, la sonrisa ensayada mil veces en el espejo, esta vez no para convencer sino para ser una sonrisa ensayada en espejo ( y entiendan entiendan que todo es una leve ilusion) llego a mi casa y esta vez soy yo el que le doy la mano a alguien, cual milagroso martir. Mis amigos se fueron, Nadie, salvo ella, la querida Annabel podra entender la falta que me hace pero lo necesario de esta distancia. los viejos se quedaron, oliendo ya a queso podrido o al tan famoso quesito rancio del que vargas llosa hablaba refiriendose a las entrepiernas femeninas. me canse de luchas y combates en vano y ahora me dedico a quemar mis propios cielos purpuras y a decorar mi mundo con grafitis de basquiat y delirios de Dali. Me dedico a ser yo mismo, pidiendole prestado a antiguos genios algo de su inspiracion. voy por mi cuenta. La causa dejo de ser ajena, todo gracias a un psicoanalista gratuito y al gran corazon de un par de padres que nunca dejaron de estar ahi. que la Lucha no tenia que ser por ellos ni por ellos ni por ellos pero depronto por mi, y si yo no quiero nada? es lo de menos, juguemos este juego, luego a la final, todo se vuelve un legado en testamentos. es hora de volver a las antiguas historias de grandeza, no a las viejas, pero recrear otras similares. Llego el dia de afilar los dientes del chacal mueco y conseguirle una protesis dental de vampiro tiburonezco para morder duro sin tener que no soltar la mordida. Renazco de nuevo, esta vez no como el malparido que era antes ( y no no es que fuese un malparido, la vida no me sonrio siempre como yo lo habia querido). ahora, no lo olviden dibujo sonrisas sobre las monalisas y pinto coronas divinas sobre los santos. Es hora de Demandar mis milagros o en el peor de los casos hacermelos. una vez cumplido eso, me ocupo de ustedes, de los demas, de mi alterego y de lo que nunca me traiciona.. el perro.

la vida empieza de nuevo, un nuevo ano, cero Gente, todo por empezar, parece que voy a volver a la musica. parece que voy a vivir con un actor, que voy a trabajar y hasta que en Nueva York, la tan aclamada capital del mundo me espera una posible gloria efimera aue puede durar, si lo decido y hago lo que tengo que hacer; lo suficiente como para que la muerte lo piense dos veces antes de recogerme. miro el cielo y la gente con la inocencia de un recien nacido y juego sin los complejos y traumas del martir del pasado. tengo todas las ventajas y solo un naciente miedo, de ese que siento rara vez en mi como adversario. el Miedo puede ser tu mejor aliado. Lo canjeo por la disciplina y el orden. el corazon por un motor de 12 valvulas y la conciencia por un codigo estricto e inquebrantable como nuestra nueva moral. El cinismo y la ternura seran la maxima y nada sera suficientemente dificil...

es hora de nacer de nuevo; de dejar de ser un Malparido.

Sonrian. este es mi momento Kodak, mis 15 minutos de gloria y la eternidad para hacerlos durar

For sale: Fuck me, I want to be someone

à tous ces malbaisés qui ont fait partie de ma vie, specialement à mes belles malbaisées.. que j' enmerde avec toute la tendresse de leur rêves de satin

Life can be a beautiful thing. People like us ( you and I) do their best to fuck it up. This is a writing about the pornography of mankind. Of how do humans look for the chance to sell themselves to "Be" someone they think they want to be but they actually never realize they've never given a thought about what they wanted.

We all look for sucess, fame fortune, the beautiful wife or the elegant dark-haired man. We all look fo the money, the big apartment, Disneyland vacations and Paris in the autumn. I gave myself to people like that. the first one, after long years of violent discussions realized she already was all that. the other one seems so rushed about "being, living and not thinking too much" that her oversold price speculated and fell on the ground. I don't love them anymore yet I feel quite responsible for their sake. I mean that I don't love them anymore because I find myself to be an exquisite man: I desire ( and not even want) the one of a kind and not the " first brand human being"; Beautiful faces, afrodisiac shoes and skirts and hell hung wonderbra's are not my fetish... just fart in lavender and I'll marry you.. it's not about the amount of diplomas you have dear, or the bank account.. it's about how to deal with it.

We don't realize, how are dreams have been designed ( not drawn; a matter of delicatesse) by our parents, an industrial heartless powerful man, some statesman and a couple of artists. We were taught drugs were bad but cocaine was the caviar rich people don't dare to buy. they said money corrupts people and excesses are a proof of power and yet we look for more and more than our hands can fill.. they said promiscuity was a deadly sin and everyman dreams of a threesome and all the women i've ever known would love to be part of a roman orgy with brad pitt lookalikes and the worst part..people like me???? why? because i am all the counterexample of that plastic made out world. I owuld love to sleep with 200 kiloed women but I cant, Life just brings me beautiful smat women with a problem.. they just collect men to their own pride " i fucked you up" and some even got away with that one on me. I now smile, accept my defeat and challenge new duels. I gave love to brokenhearted people and I wasted my time. People loved me and they wasted their effort, not because I do not love them, just because I don't want to be part of the beautiful portrait our life could be...

I want, as you, to be the man that Fucks it all up. not the one you want to be, but the man that imposes you what you'll like to become tomorrow..

thay day dear friend, dear love... You will be free

Fresh Skin

you wake up, turn around and look at the clock. 11 Am and you feel like your day is about to begin.
Life has taken half time advantage on you. You feel already exhausted about what you did yesterday and the thought of tomorrow keeps your eyes on the ground.
you go on the shower and water doesn't rinse old sins and crimes, you feel dirty and corrupted by vice, solitude sadness or even a prominent career on "How to contribute to someones' glory and someone's disgrace". you Feel living a non-stop leitmotiv. taking a train that stops nowhere and working on something not really important for you and your close ones.
You rehearse todays smile infront of the mirror while you shave and groom yourself to be bought by today's world as you just feel like a big hipocrit or like the honest prosititute that understood the only thing you're intrested in is in quenching the human thirst we all deny - and should not depend on-.
you get dressed, pretending to be a gucci-prada pig just to become part of the cattle you want to belong to and still you don't really understand why.
You go out and fight the World, the army of one fighting against them all achille's like to find the woman of our common dream even if the only thing you really look for is a tender girl that manages to get her way to make you happy and tired under the sheets of a friday night. yes, you despise morning breath sundays and badly cooked breakfasts in exchange of the small skirt long boots and a well known kamasutra by a woman you'll never get to know or love.
You fight to be the best, to earn more than the roman laurels and you look for vanity Fair and egocentric feed without prejudice to look at your well taken care feet and see the world crumbling under you and because of you.

you reject happiness and exchange if for indifference and fake Neuswchanstein castles.

You reject people like me when you are just a cheap chinamade copy of mine and i find myself as your own alterego.

you forget that all I want to be, is someone new. Reborn, refueled and realized.

you forget I am not the same.

my time has come to trade glory boxes for green pandora boxed hopes. good adventures and histories for challenges and chances. Old forgotten pain in the ass friends for an Army of willing people to draw difference and to correct all those mistakes we've been living and accepting since e were born

I Trade Reality for Dreams.

Aftermath 0670695225

It feels like being born again. I am a newborn. For the ones that did not know, a Virus Tried to kill me last week. Didn't make it as you see, Probably because I am too much of a bad shit to kill.. or just because it was a shitty Virus..

I have a newphone number. My ex went mad, actually she's kind of stupid or kind of crazy, she decided i was an evenworse person that I wish I was.. in the end, she just accused me of doing what she did to me.. anyways.. I just told the truth... "cheating on people is bad, but it is worse when you dare to shut up and go to their family's house pretending to be an angel". I am an angel.. but angels are soldiers; and Life made of me a mercenary not looking for the best bidder, but for the most fucked up cause. That is me, Born again. Stand up gypsy, dont let them bury you on the knees. Stand up... don't bury the hatchet...walk, fly, Hunt, High low and underground, LIVE, Live while death runs behind you, breathes her cold blisters on your neck... Run Forrest... RUN

so that's it, she threatened me with thowing away by the window my belongings and asked, in a very umpolite way for her phone back.. I gave it up.. I took my things and left. Felt like shitting napalm... and remembered that feeling that comes when the smell of napalm in the morning sneaks over your window...

I called the other one, the one I dared to love in the dark. she refused to save me. Ok I said, Smiled and realized that when Someone said she was a bitch.. they weren't right... just not totally wrong. Let go Let go... you Forgot about freedom gypsy, you forgot about 3 seconds plans, you forgot about yourself. YOU are not a martyr, nor a satyr.. You are a Miracle... the kind of truth that looks fake. Smile Kid... you're back.. the War is over... it is time to send the berseker Home. the war is over kid, Play the architect Build yourself the ideal life. Be your own Utopia. Play star again, forget about the life insurance and play russian roulette for infinite last times... Remember remember gypsyprince.. it is all a matter of style ( and you've just been letting it go for a while.

the doctor said I would life, but not breathe. I need to go back to the surgeon.. shit, Quit smoking, hold the martini again ( thank you dear, thank you) and paint. call the old friends that never existed, or the new ones that might exist. Trade humanity, exchange techiniques and sell it all over again. Gamble, gamble, you always had good luck on that... may the force be with you.. inside a Lego darth vader....

get a bicycle, conquer the world again, Go back, Fight the Kinderdijk Giants, Don't expect for dulcinea... prostitutes can be for free if you are just nice to them.. prostitution is about sex and not love, Forget sex, forget the memories and memoires, Get out of the bunker.. find a way to get them all in and drown in laughing gas...

Engel is back. AANVALLEN.

Today is a horrible day for france, Segolene Lost and King sarkozy the first will pretend to be a mediocre napoleon. I voted twice. It didnt matter. They didnt care. Exile seems like godspeed... take the map.. pick a place.. and if you dare, head for mars



the aftermath has come. the famous time when you only need a blowjob and a cigarrette has come.

I feel alive again.