miércoles, noviembre 30, 2005

Thoughtstricken - Ars Morendi

Centuries, decades, years, minutes, seconds...
With each breath, muttering, cell division...
Inside.
For the builders, the artists, perfectionists, that elaborate on death.
ride si sapis...in extremis

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jueves, noviembre 17, 2005

Variations - A Story Within

We are sitting on Eddie’s giant waterbed, Juán, Raúl, Yolanda and me. Fifo has gone home and Maya isn’t showing up. It’s warm and damp. The coquis are singing while the buzzing of the city recedes outside. Outlines of our bodies are cast in the shadow upon the wall in Eddie’s room. They resemble a huge blob of xenomorphic materia pulsating with extremities occasionally protruding from its greater mass. No, we are not high, or stoned, or drunk – we are just bored. Somebody knocks at the door.

“Hey kids, you want something to eat?”
“No thanks mom, were not hungry, just leave us alone.”
Hey man, I’m hungry”, Juán whispers.
"There is some pizza later" Eddie tells him.

A big part of the xenomorphic mass frees itself. It’s Yolanda who needs to go to the bathroom. The rest of us are bobbing on the bed like a boat on an open sea. It feels strange, only we in the room, the guys without the girl – a bit tense, a bit hostile, even stupid. What’s the purpose of being together in this tiny room on an ocean of blankets and a cozy waterbed if we won’t score with any chick? Eddies guitar playing is driving me mad, Juan’s yawns are gargantual and Raúl is probably mentally on another planet right now.

“Shit man, this sucks. What happened to the traces of death video?”
“Juán!, I’ve told you a million times, José still has it. You’ll get it on Monday, ok?”
“Sure, whatever asshole.”

“Hey guys why don’t we tell horror stories!”
“Stories? What you mean?”, Juán asks, giving me a suspicious look.
“What the fuck, why not.” Eddie lays down his guitar and turns his chair towards us.
“You start, but let’s wait for Yolanda first”.
“Sure”, I say.

Finally, Yolanda is back. She’s wearing a bit of makeup. A hint of fresh rouge, burning red on her puff cheeks. She’s looking away embarrassed. While she sits down, the upper corner of the bed is hit with a new wave of water.

“You like horror stories?”, I ask her.
“ I don’t know, you mean like Friday the 13th kind of bullshit?”.
“Hm, not exactly, but something like that. Only more psychological.”
“Sure, why not”, she answers.

Ok, here goes.

It was a full mooned night, cold and windy. You know when the trees look really scary, branches extending like crooked arms up into the moonlit night sky - that was how the trees looked like this night. These three girls, like 15 year olds, had been to a disco and were walking back home. They were all tired since it was late.

“Were they hot? The girls I mean?”
“Shut the fuck up moron, let him finish his story!”.
I continue.

They were all skimpy dressed, you know in skirts and shit like that. One was called Anna, the others Rebecka and Martina. Anna was really freezing and was hurrying like hell to get home as quick as possible. Rebecka and Martina were chitchatting away, smoking some cigarettes and talking about boys (you know like always). Their footsteps echoed in the night, their fine shoes clapping against the sidewalk. No other sound except their footsteps and their own voices could be heard. The wind made a mess of their long hair.

Anna was biting hard against the cold wind. She wanted to be home soon. Very soon. You know, like right now, instantly. She was ignoring the other two girls. Focusing on how to preserve some heat and hurry home.

All of a sudden she reacts. There’s no laughter, no talking - nothing. Only her footsteps can be heard. She looks to her side and behind her. Both her friends are gone. She’s all alone.

Where are they? Rebecka lives even further away than both me and Martina, she couldn’t have passed by without me noticing her. Sure, Martina’s house lays further down the creek, but she would never cross a dark alley this late by herself.”

While listening after their steps and looking ahead on the road behind her she notices how she is getting warmer around her neck and throat.

Maybe I’m getting sick”.
She decides to forget her friends and continues walking.

All of a sudden a shrill shriek is heard from within the woods that startles her. She can hear the flapping of birds but doesn’t see them. Now, the wind isnt as cold as it was before. The branches around the road seem to bend themselves towards her.

She is almost home. From a distance she can hear a phone ringing. Her house is not far away, she hurries to get there just in case the ringing is coming from here house. Maybe it’s Tobias, the cute guy she met at the disco that is calling.

The phone is still ringing when she opens the door. It’s been ringing all the time. She runs into the kitchen to answer.

Too late, the answering machine has already started its recording. She grabs the phone and says hello.

A voice that she recognizes, low and filled with tears is heard speaking.

“ I am so sorry. I had to call you. I know you don’t want to see me, but please listen to me. I know you think it’s my fault that Anna is dead. That I should have picked her up that night, that I should have known that it was dangerous to let her go out by herself that late but…”

She tries to interrupt.

“Dad, who is dead? What are you talking about?”.

“…I couldn’t know. And I am so sorry. Please believe me Sara! I guess I’ll see you at the funeral. Please don’t hate me…CLICK”

“Dad!”

Her screams echo in the empty kitchen. It's pitch dark around her.

She walks back out into the hall and turns on the light.

In the mirror in front of her she sees her mother behind her with a big knife. Her throat is bleeding profusely.

Her mothers icy cold voice is heard saying:
“You shouldn’t have been born. You ruined my life. I’m sending you back from where you came from!”
Muahhaahahahha!!!!!!!!!

“Maaaan!, that was such a dumb ass story!”
“I liked it, really cool ending. So she was already dead?”
“Yes”, I answer.
“And you Yolanda, what did you think?”
“I don’t know, it was a bit strange – too strange for me, I guess.”

Before we can talk some more Eddie's mother shows up, unannounced as usual.

“Hey kids, there’s some big-scary-fish movie on TV if your interested.”
“Oh yeah, you mean Jaws!!! Cool!!! It’s the third movie where he is really big and fat, c’mon lets go and watch!”

Everyone hurries into the living room.

We call our horror night quits and bury ourself in the sofa. With some Little Cesars pizza that we swallow down with ample amounts of soda we call it a day and forget how boring we really are.

martes, noviembre 15, 2005

Late Night Sins

Its late. I have been trying to take it easy. Just reading something, not looking out the window at the grey, black smurk of a nightsky outside. Then suddenly, I get hungry as hell. It's that hunger that you know will not let you sleep, while trying to avoid eating since its too late.
What the heck, I go to the kitchen. There we have one of the germans sitting at the dinner table with his laptop and headphones. Yea, we are both escape artists. He is trying not to disturb his girlfriend (I guess) and Im trying not to be seen in the kitchen this late. He is trying to not look disturbed by my presence but fails miserably. Im trying not to exist right now - and I too fail miserably.
I get my food and leave only having to come back, since I forgot my apple juice. Bummer.
It starts again.

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lunes, noviembre 14, 2005

Spontaneous Emergency Dancing for Pedestrians Like You and Me

You may have a nice tune or melody in your head. A rhythm that doesn’t wear off, that pulsates in your body and is contagious. I would call it being in sync. In sync with a feeling, others would call energy - whether personal, collective or simply present for whatever reason.

When I am with loved ones, people I like, or people that convey this feeling or energy somehow effortlessy, I feel good.
You have seen them before and you have probably done it yourself. Made some dance steps while your walking, whistle or hum a tune for yourself but loud enough for passers by to hear.
We live in a very cold society. A society where people restrain themselves from just being alive openly. But what is socially open? Is the side-walk open (and as such restricted)?
If it is, then it should remain open in all its senses. I’m not advocating crazy behaviour, but yes, it would be nice to see some spontaneous behaviour not necessarily connected to teenage craze.
So go, go out and dance around a bit. By yourself, a couple of minutes or briefly, 10 or 20 seconds. Forget the closed and restricted society we seem to live in.

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