I swear I feel nothing like writing in the straight-normal way. I swear I'm not in the mood for manufacturing overanalyzed short stories that the general public (If such thing exists) that follow this thingy (I love to say thingy) will be irrevocably able to easily follow through.
I won't just throw word randomly. But I won't be precise. I like imprecision today. For today just. Or maybe tomorrow I will as well. You never know. Tomorrow never knows.
So. Here is the thingy. Whirlwind. Just complete crazy-ass nonsense. Well, maybe I'm just dramatizing for the sake of this blog's reputation (if such thing exists - the reputation, cause the blog definitely does).
I remember that a couple of days ago. Like, 8 days ago? Is that right brain? I think so. Is so hard to keep track of the time. So intangible. Wow, you can actually write it the same in spanish and it means the same thing, like chocolate (fuck, I sound like the girls from Clueless right there).
So. I got shit-faced with two guys in Broadway Market. Very cool kids. Really cool. We laughed, we slept, we went somewhere else and we eat tarts. And the tarts were for free cause the closing time was right around the corner, and the Chippy felt guilty on denying me my very first authentic and all Brit-like fish'n'chips dish.
I went back to my temporary home in Tottenham road, and slept my guts off.
I left the next day. I took the train and the lady sitting next to me had pink nail-polish, and told us that her son described her as preppy in his best-selling breakthrough new novel.
Hi new house. Hi beer. Hi mirror. Hi you!
Hi mr. heywazzup. Hi mr. can you walk for me? Hey you! Hey I'm twenty-two.
Hey I'm just bones. JUST FUCKING IN-YOUR-FACE BONES.
So don't come here, sporting that know-it-all cocky attitude. You are not real. You won't go out and play in the sun with the other kids cause you would break the spell and you wouldn't be a monster anymore and the movie would end a little bit too soon. Woooooow. I just lost it. So bad. My bet.
Ok. Can you walk for me? I love the phrase. Is just... so... summing up. It's the epitomization of this whole shit. We walk.
Holly shit. I just went to the kitchen to get some Coca-Cola (pretty much the only thing I drink) and there was a girl sleeping there. A long legged sleeping beauty.
I shouldn't be surprised. It happened yesterday again.
So... where was I? Nothing, just let's see. I rather not talk about this right now.
There's something I've always liked about necks. They are just so elegant. And they are sort of phallic as well. All that blood running through them. All those muscles holding four kilos of a head.
Blue. Something borrowed, something blue. Every me and every you. Blue like me, blue like the sea, burry me.
The lights dance over the Amstel and I believe I was far too conditioned.
I couldn't help wondering. I'm a wonderer. Joy Division. That's cool.
Stalks. Like the ones acorn grow on. Acorns grow on stalks. Last night I talked about how appearances may deceive. Also accents. Also clothes and make-up and there you go.
I just looked up to the corner between the wall and the ceiling and felt it was extremely high. The ceiling keeps rising up and the room goes from a cube, to a very tall prism. And it makes me feel small. And the lightning is dull and scarcely provided by the monitor of my mac.
I feel in a horror one.
I just remembered. Dolphin. Dolphins in my dreams. Like waves, like the sea. There's dolphins in Rio de la Plata. Buenos Aires is such a strange place.
The belly button of hell.
I'm just beginning to think is time for me to stop mumbling thoughts and start crawling my bed back to the insides of my bed. It's raining outside. It's raining in Vincennes. I was thinking just yesterday, how cool it would be to go everywhere enrolled in a huge cozy stuffed blanket. Like in a cocoon. Like in No York, in the subway. With the hair dyed black and no shoes. And the light is greenish.
I'll get back to you guys soon. I promise. I have to. Wish me luck!
No comments:
Post a Comment