The drunk kid, the catholic

Let the records show that this man is happy.

Asi es señoras y señores, este hombre esta feliz. No se preocupen por su fachada de artista malnacido, que este hombre por dentro sonrie como un negro con una sandia (i'm not racist i swear). Si ha tenido sus bronquitas ultimamente, pero son broncas al estilo cuando te pegas en un nervio y te duele pero te da risa. Asi es son broncas que me dan en el momento adecuado, en el lugar adecuado. El dolor te recuerda que estas vivo y la risa te recuerda a lo intrascendente que es el dolor.

Quiero comprarte un queso bien padre. Quiero encontrar un departamento que me agrade y que no tenga broncas con nadie. Quiero poder hacerte sonreir siempre. Quiero que mi nuevo proyecto funcione. Quiero que estos amigos que me hacen sentir ubicado esten a mi lado siempre.

Se que no se puede tener todo lo que uno quiero pero, pito. Bien saben que me merezco minimo esas que mencione. I'm a good guy... aren't i?

Festina Vite Lente

¿ En serio?

Dije que iba empezar a escribir mas en esta madre. Y yo cumplo lo que digo a la verga.

No se que decir. No en el sentido de no se que decir en cuanto a solo quiero escribir sin realmente tener que escribir. Lo digo en el sentido que salió un drama tan inesperado que nisiquiera se como tomarlo.

Por alguna razón piensas que te traicioné o que te quise hacer un mal. Me es difícil tracionar y/o desearle mal a alguien que quiero y respeto tanto. No tienes ni la menor idea de lo tanto que tengo que agradecerte. Lo único que he hecho es darte el mejor consejo que he podido por que me interesa tu bienestar y trato de ver lo que es mejor para ti. Si erré en lo que pensaba que era mejor para ti, lo siento. Creo que mi filosofía de cada quien su papalote fue simplemente una declaración hipocrita por que quise decirte como volar tu papalote simplemente por que tu me ayudaste en como hacer volar el mio.

Lo siento, en realidad lo siento.

(j)

Festina Vite Lente

Whoa! Dos años sin pegarle a esta caca. Ha pasaaaadooo muuucho. Pense que habia dejado Amor y amoniaco atras, al grado que para postear esto tuve que recuperar mi contraseña.
Todo esto paso por accidente, estaba baboseando por la red haciendo tarea y me tuve que meter al blogger y ta-da! me tope con el viejo blog. Terminé como a las 2.oo am de hacer la tarea, sin embargo segui leyendo los viejos posts como hasta las 4.00 am.
Han sido dos años muy raros, en los que me di cuenta que me hacia falta purgar mi negatividad por medio de la escritura. Se me hace bien loco por que asi puedo contrastar las etapas de mi vida y como van cambiando mis intereses. Ahorita estoy estudiando cine (que nunca pense en estudiarlo) y vivo en tijuana (que creo que por ahi hasta hay un post de lo tanto que odiaba tijuana).

Ok deja los pongo al tanto publico imaginario, en estos dos años:
- Viví en San Diego
-Viví en el DF
-Vivo en tijuana
- Hubo drama con maria, pero las cosas estan mejor ahorita.
- Me cambie de carrera como 7 veces.
- Trabaje en lugares bien cool y en otros no tan cool.

Creeanme que me veran escribir mas pronto por aqui, Amor amoniaco vive de nuevo!

Festina Vite lente
(no me habia dado cuenta lo tanto que extrañaba eso)

Say goodbye to France for me

First of all, I would like to say: Fuck. Yes, f-u-c-k. Fuck cancer, fuck my liver and fuck my lungs. Fuck my colon (not literally, si vous plais) and my kidneys. Fuck drinking and fuck smoking. Fuck akward fist fights, bruises and broken bones. Fuck drunk driving, fuck seatbelts and fuck bumpy roads. Fuck uptight conservatives and fuck whiny liberals. Fuck macho homophobes and annoying flamboyant gay men. Fuck racists and fuck people who live up to there comedic stereo type. Fuck hypocritical activist/philanthropists and fuck hypocritical nihilists. Fuck shallow chic and fuck messy slobs. Fuck ikea, fuck bed bath and beyond. Fuck hopeful teenagers and fuck bitter middle-agers.

But most importantly, fuck me. Who is all of the above and neither.

That said, I shall write about current events with less gratuitous cussing. SHIT FUCK!

I thought about writing a letter to maria right now. But it would be just another letter unanswered letter. So I'll write about it here. I thought about telling her the wierd dream I had last night in which we where touring France by skipping trains and stealing wine along the way. I wanted to tel her how at the party I went tonite i was introduced as, "the guy who has a soulmate in belgium", swear to god, I was introduced that way. I wanted to write about how she would have probably had fun at this party since when we were drunk we started reading eachother passages of naked lunch over cigarettes and whisky. I wanted to tell her how now I am known amongst the people here as the drinker, or the alcoholic. I wanted to say that I do not say much in my defensive and I am ashamedly proud of this title. I wanted to say that I miss her, but since I say that in every letter I write to her it might seem needy. She already knows this, so I probably would have written it anyway. When I would have sent the letter I would have felt ashamed or embarrased somewhat because For the last week I have been writing her a letter at least every day, at least in my mind. I would start thinking of how I rehearse what I want to write in each letter during my day. When something interesting happens I say to myself "Hey, this is something I can include in the letter." I start thinking of how when I write these type of things a strong, charming and enthusiastic narrator starts talking in my head as I type the words. I then imagine this narrator as a voice over in a scene of a WWII drama in which the dead soldier writes letters to his sweetheart back home and she reads them on the beach looking out to the sea, hoping the young man eventually comes back from the great war. I think of Il Postino. I think of how bashful and teenage this all is but then i reflect and think that this is how it has always been with Maria, because we've known each other only as teenagers. I want to tell Maria that I am carefully selecting songs to make a very good playlist when she comes back. I think to myself how creepy and clingy this is. I think to myself, "Maybe I am just idealizing this woman because she is far away and I can turn her into this mystic awesome figure". But then I think "Nah, Maria has always been an Awesome mystic figure to me...."

P.S.- I am still as creepy, clingy and needy as when you left.

Festina Vite Lente

home again...wait, home?

...And here I am, home again. Although I believe the defenition of home has shifted the last couple of months. Old friends, I am here again: (relatively) thinner, (relatively) wiser, and...why not? more out going. Nostalgia hasn't treated us well. has it? Maybe I was being naive in thinking that I would comeback, and be greeted with a smile. "It's not like you're coming back from the great war, David. Relax." And yes, that is what I did. We analyzed strip bars and strippers. Things were so simpler back then, and retrospect, things are always more simpler. But we had some drinks my friends, some cigarettes and some good conversations, I have said before... thats all I need.
I saw old flames, and went to a house party like we used to do. Only this time I danced, I am a wall flower no more. I conversed, became the charmer I was meant to be, or at least thought I should be. American life is quite boring, but at least it's more fun than our small beach town.
"Why are you so high strung, dude?", you asked. "Well, its the living in the city" I answer. Don't believe that shit. I'm just trying to sound interesting. I am so high strung because I am so fucking excited to see you guys, I just don't know how to act.
Yes, this is the season of THE big comebacks. Everyone is coming back from their first semester of college, everyone has stories to tell. So lets sit back, have fag, talk about itm and maybe in while we'll dance and pretend we're back in highschool again, only this time, we know what the fuck we are doing...barely.

Festina vite lente, Bitches is back in town

These...(a letter to my father)

These are not the words of revolution
I expected to here from you, Doctor
Well, yes, technically I am alive
A better fate than most, I suppose...
If fate I can call it.

Remember when we had hopes, Doc?
When I would be an astronaut
and you...
Well, you would still be Doc.

Remember when the light was bright, Doc?
When we would have long discussions
of whether the light was too bright
or our eyes too weak?

Remember when you would look,
over my cradle when I was asleep?
Well, I don't, I was asleep.

So, yes Doctor...
I am alive,
Or at least do not have sufficient proof
of otherwise...

Mi carta a Mexico...

Fuchi...

Fuchi el tricolor, el bicolor
y demas arocirises que forman
el juego de mesa que llamamos:
Politica Mexicana

Politicos pagados
por cometer errores;
Pero como dijo Herodes:
"Hey...
O te chingas, o te jodes."
Y no hay NADA
mas Mexicano que eso....


Por que luchamos
para ser mas como nuestro vecino del norte
y hacer menos a los vecinos del sur.

Pero ahhh que chulada!
Mira nomas, como va el progreso!
Si ya tenemos una Macroplaza, un Galerias,
tenemos comunidades enrejadas,
y nuestra propia concesionaria de autos!
Ya somos toda una Urbe,
una sociedad compleja.

Sociedad compleja?!
Bueno, supongo que tienes razon...
Somos bastante complejos,
le damos vueltas y vueltas
y MAS vueltas;
a algo que pudimos resolver
a la primera,
o bueno, te doy chanza
a la segunda vuelta.

Mexicano en Mexico?
Pues, si lo podria hacer hoy
pero es que
en media hora empieza la novela y...
Mexicano en USA?
Yes Sir! Ahorita Patron,
Cortititito queda el pasto va ver.

Curioso...
Como el trabajador,
se siente mas trabajador en otro pais
Asi como yo me siento mas mexicano,
no estando en Mexico.

Festina Vite Lente