dreaming.

i once said i hated to have nice dreams.
but it's not the dream i hate. it's the waking up.
it feels like i can almost touch him, he's just right there on the edge of my subconscient.
but i can't. and i close my eyes again and wish to keep dreaming, but i'm wide awake
and awake i know it's just a dream. i'm not ever going to touch him, or be talking to him like that.
but it just feels so real.

i.. really need a hug.
human contact. a man's arms around my waist and a man's chest to hide my head in.
but a new man. really, a new man.

my new theory

i have a new theory. you know how they say the first love always sticks with you?
well, i've got some experience in that particular field, and i've come to think this:
that first love sticks with you because it was great. at least in my case it was.
and because it was a relationship that just worked, it was easy to connect, we wanted the same things.
i can't remember any other time a relationship worked that good for over two weeks, and i'm being merciful.
so it's only natural to miss that, and to believe that somehow that will happen again.

but, what if it would happen again? if we got that second chance we somehow dream about?
would that connection still be there? would it all be easy and great?
i say no. no way! why? because now, we have all kinds of scars. we have messy exes,
and responsibilities. we have mistakes we are afraid to repeat,
we're scared to death of commitment, we don't wanna get hurt again.
we would put all the weight of the failed relationships into the one that's supposedto be perfect, and screw it up.

which takes me to my conclusion: the reason that first love worked so perfectly, was our inexperience.
off course we made mistakes, but nothing was quite so tragic. there was no ghost haunting us,
no past to compare. we were fresh, and willing to give our best just because we were in love.

those two kids grew up to be two fucked up almost-grown ups,
resented, scared, shouting at their couples on the street, drinking to scape problems,
and screwing up.

not that knowing all this stuff is gonna make me stop missing... that.

the interactive part of my relationship with myself.

i have a thing for rain.
it's kind off a love-hate relationship, like everything that's worth anything.
but it makes me feel safe. it's like a really good hug.
it also reminds me of about a million things, all together.
you know, like my house or this city. or a good song.
i guess that's why i find it so romantic.
and i'm not usually a fan of romance, but this is the good kind.
like remembering how someone takes their coffee, not like a pink teddy bear.
only when you're not in love, romantic turns to either nostalgic or bitter.
there's the hate part of our relationship. that and the fact that it wets.

but it's one of those stuff that are mine. like my house, or this city.
it's like the interactive part of my relationship with myself. or something.

(yes, i'm overusing the blog. i think it's a good thing.)

expectations.

there's nothing stupider that expecting things from people.
they are for sure going to fail to live up to those expectations, every time.
it gets to a point when you don't even feel disappointed anymore
but it gets.. frustrating.

and sometimes you have to wish for somethings,
sometimes it's just becomes necessary to believe something is coming.
and i close my eyes and hope. and expect this is going to be different somehow.
this time, this person, this thing, it's gotta work. but it doesn't.
and you just add more people to the "not expect anything from them" list.

the thing with that list is, we don't ever learn. and that's the worst kind of disappointment.
the "i should have known better that get my hopes up".
so you go right back to choosing some random guy to distract yourself,
put too many things into that because hell, you have to put'em somewhere,
and that's how the fucking list reaches a thousand lines.

and then the person i least expected actually keeps his word,
and i learn nice surprises are still out there.

circular, aunque yo sé que fue siempre así
para mi
vos buscaste versiones de mi,
yo te encuentro en la inocencia de algunos niños
y se las robo.
yo vengo a mi casa que no es mía, todos los días
miro allí donde solías estar
la casa tiene tantas heridas como yo,
y cada centímetro de madera ajada fue tocada por alguien que amé

siempre renegaste de tu mierda, pero te venció cada vez
tan hipócrita, una lástima, yo era tan tuya como ella
y ya ves, renegaste de mi.
tu cobardía me enferma.

no quería hablarte, no voy a buscarte
te encontraré en esos niños, buscaré tu mierda
y diré que la que me duele, es ella

messy modern life

thing is, fuck.
having feelings, having friends, having friends who have feelings.
messing up. alcohol's a sweet excuse, but some things are just too obvious and irresistible.
some things you've known all along are gonna happen, and yet have unexpected consequences.
and some things just take you totally by surprise. and that's fucking good.

attraction is a great word. and a great thing.
it's one powerful force. specially when it's wrong. mmmmh wrong.
so what happens after we give in to that force? when the wrong is not so wrong anymore?
luckily, complications and wrongness are everywhere, and i'll find many excuses to keep it interesting,
at least for a while.
and we all know i'm gonna keep messing up, i'm an endless fount of tasty mistakes.

i'm gonna have to make A LOT of mistakes to keep me occupied.
as for tonight, i have enough to keep me from thinking what the fuck is he doing online.

a a a

a li e na ted
by myself by someone
else
i don't share
i'm all work
and no fun makes me
dead.
i'm not even into him again
i get

put some make up be a pretty girl
maybe if i'd phone my friends
they just tend to
talk
a lie
no
a - - -
a beat to the head
a new pill to take
a wake
a wake
a wake

at least an honest talk with myself
n-even
at least act like you're surprised
smac smac

JOY
smac smac

luciernagas.

February 19th
- Sabés qué? Cambié de opinión. Mejor dame vos tu teléfono, no me voy a aguantar la ansiedad...
Lo miró y sonrió. Decidió que si iba a llamarlo.
- Yo te llamo.

February 22nd
- Mirá! Un avión.

February 25th
- Sigue chocando el auto! Cuántas veces puede hacer el mismo chiste?

March 2nd
- Cómo que no se puede llegar al mar en Buenos Aires?

March 4th
Mientras abría la puerta de madera con cuidado, se dió vuelta a mirar al chico que estaba detras de la reja.
- Este.. es un final perfecto.
- No es un final.
Sonrió. No le creyó en absoluto.

there is nothing that compites with habit
and i know it's neither deep not tragic
simply that you have to have it
so you can make a killing..

i wish i was both young and stupid
then i too could have the fun that you did
'till it was time to pony up what you bid
so you could make a killing..

i could follow you and search the rubble
or stay right here and save myself some trouble
or try to keep myself from seeing double.
or i could make a killing...

reflexiones

la vida ha cambiado.
me parece realmente que este es un momento definitorio, estamos creciendo de nuevo.
la gente se va a otros países. hay que ser adulto para hacer eso.
la gente toma decisiones radicales sobre su vida y da muchísimo miedo
y es así es lo que toca y la posta es que uno se levanta
todos los días para ir a laburar, todos los días
y entabla relaciones reales con las personas, tiene conversaciones y afectos
y responsabilidades, y no es algo malo. es algo que cambia a uno.
y por suerte me dormí y me desperté y no me olvide de todo lo que daba vueltas en mi cabeza
y es raro en mi que estas cosas den vuelta por mi cabeza, pero me parece imprescindible.
vamos en encontrarnos y siendo las mismas personas vamos a tener
casas, hijos, carreras, deudas
nos miramos al espejo y nuestra cara no es la misma,
nos miramos a los ojos y se nota por lo que pasamos
y seguimos aferrados a alguna niñería y es algo bello pero ficticio
no somos los jóvenes de antes.
no llegamos a los 19 años vírgenes (me refiero a vírgenes de la vida, como un territorio virgen)
llegamos con historias, deseos, cicatrices, relaciones personales construidas sobre bases duraderas y verdaderas, cuentas pendientes, miedos.
no son los mismos 19 años que nos transmiten nuestros padres y la sociedad.
estamos inmersos en este mundo que queremos cambiar, pero quien esta dispuesto a usar su insignificante y valiosísima vida solo para eso? quien sabe como hacerlo, por donde empezar?
todo esta corrompido y nosotros también, y que saben los que no lo están? su valor es la belleza, la pureza que no se lleva bien con la reflexión, que se vería lascerada por ella.
me siento capaz de seguir adelante, de desempeñar ese papel,
y miro a mi alrededor y la gente también y esta dispuesta.
crecemos como grupo social, en paralelo mas allá de las diferencias de cada uno.
hay algo de ese mundo real que nos parece tan fantástico cuando no estamos en el,
que nos atrapa y no se detiene.