Hacía años luz que no pateaba un balón... bueno quizá para regresarlo a algún juego ajeno en respuesta física a un "bolita por favor" o si se me hubiese cruzado en el camino (a lo cual vendrían a mi cabeza millones de flashbacks de la prepa con sabor extra-nostálgico y probablemente me hubieran dado ganas de llorar en pleno cruce de terreno baldío), pero mejor pongámoslo así; hacía un BUEN de tiempo que no jugaba un partido de fútbol como es debido.
Resulta que se decidió hacer un reencuentro tipo Magneto pero del equipo de las ex-kennedy contra las que ahora portan la camiseta actualizada de dicha escuela... esto de la fiebre del mundial se expande hacia todas partes y no deja de encantarme.
Me llegó la invitación por Facebook al partido "kennedys vs ex-kennedys" hace unos días y no pude ocultar mi felicidad absoluta ante dicho anuncio. Chequé mi agenda (absolutamente vacía) y sonreí groseramente mientras buscaba mis tacos viejos y oxidados y mis espinilleras de cuando tenía 18 años...
Llegando la fecha indicada me presenté ante la reja tan azul de mi ex escuela con el uniforme y todo (lo cual me había costado mucho encontrar, puesto que ahora mis cosas se han exiliado al cuartito-bodega del piso de abajo... ya que "ya no vivo" en mi casa según el idiota de mi hermano) para lo cual me abrió un guardia excesivamente agradable (he llegado a considerar que la restante bondad de la humanidad se concentra exclusivamente en provincia, puesto que debo admitir que me he acostumbrado a los malos tratos de la gente capitalina). El buen guardia me deseó buena suerte y me dirigí a la verdísima cancha de fut que con tanto cariño guarda memorias increíbles de aquellas épocas mías: de cuando el mundo no me mostraba sus horrendos... colmillos todavía.
Llevaba calcetas largas y una bebida deportiva que tuve que comprar en el "Otzo" porque me he dado cuenta de que ya no se guardan botellas de agua en casa, desde que dejamos de hacer deporte con regularidad (sniff sniff a las 3 horas de tennis y/o 2 de fut diarias de toda mi juventud). Ahora mi hermano sólo va al gym para ponerse trunks-hulk-ish para cuando llegue el apocalipsis y nos ataquen los narcos y consecuentemente los mate a golpes (según su muy divertida teoría de salvación).
Reconocí algunas caras, puesto que ya somos varias generaciones las que nos hemos graduado desde el 2006, saludé y empezamos a calentar. Pero los coaches de siempre seguían ahí; Lalo, Soria, Ray, Miss Myriam y hasta Lanch nos habían ido a apoyar! De hecho Lalo se vio solidario y se ocupó de alinearnos y darnos tips de apoyo moral ante nuestra decrepitud e ineficiencia física.
Empezó el partido. OUCH! Hacía épocas geológicas enteras que no tenía que correr como si mi vida dependiera de ello. Ahora respeto más a las gacelas de Nat Geo y a la maldita selección mexicana... pta madre sentía que tenía anclas en los tobillos.
No daba ni una, mis pases eran demasiado cortos y el balón se sentía como de acero inoxidable forjado con plomo y relleno de una bola de boliche... mis pies pedían piedad ante el esfuerzo repentino que les estaba exigiendo. Ya nadie me quería pasar la bola a esta abuela pedazo de lela jeje. Sin embargo, Carlita y Lili siguen jugando en el equipo del TEC y vaya que mostraron que no se iban a dejar vencer tan fácilmente! Pararon como 70 llegadas del equipo juvenil sin pensarlo mucho. Ver dicho entusiasmo en algunas integrantes de mi propio equipo me elevó los ánimos en crescendo y finalmente logré elevar mi ritmo a un nivel respetable y empecé a driblar con coherencia futbolística.
Era la gloria reivindicada! Enhorabuena! Tomé consciencia de mis instintos olvidando mi mente racional y me dejé llevar por la intuición del momento que tanto me hacía casi desmayarme por el esfuerzo en cada partido, ya fuese de tennis o fútbol. El sudor se convirtió en vestigio de algo hermoso y salino refrescando mi cara, el viento nos acariciaba las frentes como susurrando "sí se puede, sólo diviértete". Vaya que extrañaba ver a mis padres en la tribuna gritando como si realmente fuera importante lo que estaba pasando dentro del perímetro de pasto... ahora entiendo la importancia del juego fuera de las clases teóricas de Schiller; es SERIO esto del fútbol.
Hubo tiempo de tomar agua entre los 45 minutos de cada sesión (estamos ruquitas y necesitamos hidratarnos con regularidad, peor que planta de jungla) y mis pies empezaban a sentir el dolor de unas horrendas y nacientes ampollas en las plantas... pero todo lo valía.
Jugamos el segundo tiempo y parecía que seríamos acribilladas por el tierno (de juventud) equipo antagónico, ya que llegaron otras 24,000 veces a nuestra portería, sólo para ser rechazadas por la diosa de portera que teníamos; Lilí es mi ídola.
Pero en una de esas se despejó un balón incógnito y bien dirigido hacia Ada, nuestra delantera estrella, quien en vez de mandarlo a los cielos (como lo suele hacer por potencia de chutazo que tiene la condenada) lo metió a la portería... casual y así llevábamos la ventaja en el marcador.
Inesperadamente...
Yo tuve 2 que 3 oportunidades, pero la verdad creo que di mejores pases que trallazos... mis piernas ya no aguantan tanto. Pero la labor de esquivar monigotas (porque HOLY CRAB están ENORMES estas chicas! parece que las nuevas generaciones le entran con singular alegría a la carne de McD's con extra-hormonas de todo tipo) la hice con eficacia y sutileza, de hecho me eché unas recepciones de balones mandados hasta la ionósfera que caían en mis taquitos con buen toque y hasta Soria me regañó por no cagarla en eso :). Ergo, por esfuercitos por el estilo fue que empezamos a llegar más a su portería, contrarrestando el resto del partido que parecía más bien un "gol-para" en nuestra contra jejeje.
Y FINITO! Sonó el silbato del árbitro y se dio por terminada la cosa.... muertas estábamos pero victoriosas! y nos tenían Pizza para celebrar en las banquitas :) ya se me había olvidado lo divertido que era pertenecer a un equipo así, en medio de los cerros queretanos, nuestro propio oasis lúdico cuasi onírico. Otro lindo recuerdo para la colección. Gracias niñas!
viernes, junio 18, 2010
jueves, mayo 27, 2010
Camboya
La experiencia del viajar solo es difícil de expresar y compartir, es necesario vivirla uno mismo para entender de qué carajos estoy hablando. Quizá para aquellas personas que no están tan desajustadas como yo, el mundo les resulte unos cuantos decibeles menos desafiante. Pero por ahí dicen ellos (los que tanto les gusta hablar) que para que haya una aventura digna de ser contada debe de haber una gran cantidad de percances y desfortunios que le ocurran al protagonista de la historia... directamente proporcional, gracias Campbell!
Habiendo acabado el mentado cursito que me eché en nada más y nada menos que las Tailandias (en plural todo suena mejor) decidí que sería interesante cerrar la odisea con broche de oro (guay not?), entonces compré con el resto de mis ahorros "lo que viene siendo" un boleto de avión a Siem Reap en Camboya; la ciudad en donde se encuentra uno de los sitios arqueológicos más importantes del mundo: Angkor Wat.
Era mi sueño visitar los vestigios de tal civilización, habiendo aprendido un poco en clases de historia, y con lo ñoña que soy, la idea de adentrarme cual Lara Croft/Indiana Jones versión turista mexicana "de petatiux".
Tomé un Tuk-Tuk desde Ban Phe hasta el aeropuerto de Bangkok y no hice mas que nostalgiarme la existencia con kleenex escuchando canciones extremadamente cursis en el transcurso (favor de compadecerme y no juzgarme en ese aspecto si lloro con "Take a Bow" de Rihanna) puesto que soy de esas malditas personas a las cuales las despedidas las vuelven de consistencia peluchosa y moquienta.
Llegando esperé mi debido tiempo tirada en una banca de plástico como de McDonald's con mis cosas desparramadas sobre mis pies (estorbándole a las familias ricas gringas que pasaban por ahí). Cuando llegó mi hora me formé en la fila correspondiente como niña buena y me aproximé al mostrador, sólo para escuchar:
-Sorry miss, I cannot let you board your plane because you have an S type visa; which means you cannot enter the country once you've left unless you get ANOTHER stamp.
WTF????? Todo el desmadre que me había costado ENTRAR al mentado país se desenrollaba en una secuela del terror totalmente inadvertida frente a mis elaboradas pestañas mexicanas. ¿Ahora no me dejarán salir? ¿QUÉ CARAJOS?
Como venadito en éxtasis sufrí un recorrido fotográfico mental en el cual abandonaba mi sueño de ir a Angkor y esperaba en vez mis dos días restantes en Asia aburrida como torta en un hotel de por ahí mientras llegaba el día de mi salida de regreso a México... NO!!!
-You will have to go to the Mexican embassy downtown and make them call the Thai embassy in Mexico for you to change your VISA. This will have to be tomorrow now, because it is already late and everything is closed for the day. Here is a map and the telephone number.
¡Era L.A. all over again! ¡Qué bonito ciclo narrativo! Pero pensé: Bridget Jones my milky arse! Y entonces le dije:
-But I've got this other ticket for my flight back home miss. Same day, departing 3 hours after I return from Cambodia. If I do like as you say, then I'll miss it! Isn't there anything I can do about it?
-Oh! Lemme see! Oh! so you're just connecting flights? Oh!! Well then things change. I thought you were staying here longer after returning. But if you don't leave the airport then there's no problem. Just tell the woman at the Siem Reap counter to check your bags all the way to Mexico. Have a good flight!
Me trepé al avión con la cara rojo camarón entomatado y no separé la naríz de la ventanilla hasta que aterrizamos... puta madre, estaba tan enojada como cansada, por lo que opté por neutralizar mis emociones y esperar el siguiente paso. Viva la discriminación por nacionalidad!
Llegando quedé bastante impresionada por la calidad arquitectónica del aeropuerto camboyano; coqueto coqueto indeed! Recogí maletas, pasé por los detectores de metal y pagué mis cuotas. Saliendo al delicioso calorcito nocturno me topé con cientos de locales montados en motocicletas al acecho por turistas indefensos llenos de maletas. Yo fui presa fácil aparentemente.
-Ride with me
-NO! WITH MEEEE-
-Ride hotel miss?
Me atacaron por doquier... pero mi instinto de citadina exportada me dijo que eligiera al de rostro menos asesino (ja, viva el sentido común). Me sentí juez de American Idol versión "quién tiene la cara más noble y menos de tevoyamataryviolardespuésdemuerta". Pagué mis 2 dólares por el aventón y me trepé con el chofer cara-de-niñito.
No hay como tener el viento en la cara, en una noche joven con una luna espectacular guiándote el camino. Tenía un audífono puesto en una oreja y con la otra prestaba atención a las breves narraciones de mi compañero de viajes. "Leik" me llevó a un hotel que le pareció óptimo para mi arribo súbito, puesto que le había contado (yo) que quería estar lo más cerca posible de las ruinas.
Me recibió un tal "Lucky"; un personaje increíblemente dibujable, es más, creo que me lo saqué del inconsciente... algún día escribiré una historia basándome en él. Y me guió al cuarto después de haberme despedido de Leik; acordamos que él sería mi guía a las ruinas también por un precio razonable -Tomorrow at 9 o'clock then-
Subí unas amplias escaleras de madera en un edificio extrañisimo, viejo y amarillo nápoles, con pasillos de imitación de mármol y extranjeros por doquier (yo incluida)
Habiendo acabado el mentado cursito que me eché en nada más y nada menos que las Tailandias (en plural todo suena mejor) decidí que sería interesante cerrar la odisea con broche de oro (guay not?), entonces compré con el resto de mis ahorros "lo que viene siendo" un boleto de avión a Siem Reap en Camboya; la ciudad en donde se encuentra uno de los sitios arqueológicos más importantes del mundo: Angkor Wat.
Era mi sueño visitar los vestigios de tal civilización, habiendo aprendido un poco en clases de historia, y con lo ñoña que soy, la idea de adentrarme cual Lara Croft/Indiana Jones versión turista mexicana "de petatiux".
Tomé un Tuk-Tuk desde Ban Phe hasta el aeropuerto de Bangkok y no hice mas que nostalgiarme la existencia con kleenex escuchando canciones extremadamente cursis en el transcurso (favor de compadecerme y no juzgarme en ese aspecto si lloro con "Take a Bow" de Rihanna) puesto que soy de esas malditas personas a las cuales las despedidas las vuelven de consistencia peluchosa y moquienta.
Llegando esperé mi debido tiempo tirada en una banca de plástico como de McDonald's con mis cosas desparramadas sobre mis pies (estorbándole a las familias ricas gringas que pasaban por ahí). Cuando llegó mi hora me formé en la fila correspondiente como niña buena y me aproximé al mostrador, sólo para escuchar:
-Sorry miss, I cannot let you board your plane because you have an S type visa; which means you cannot enter the country once you've left unless you get ANOTHER stamp.
WTF????? Todo el desmadre que me había costado ENTRAR al mentado país se desenrollaba en una secuela del terror totalmente inadvertida frente a mis elaboradas pestañas mexicanas. ¿Ahora no me dejarán salir? ¿QUÉ CARAJOS?
Como venadito en éxtasis sufrí un recorrido fotográfico mental en el cual abandonaba mi sueño de ir a Angkor y esperaba en vez mis dos días restantes en Asia aburrida como torta en un hotel de por ahí mientras llegaba el día de mi salida de regreso a México... NO!!!
-You will have to go to the Mexican embassy downtown and make them call the Thai embassy in Mexico for you to change your VISA. This will have to be tomorrow now, because it is already late and everything is closed for the day. Here is a map and the telephone number.
¡Era L.A. all over again! ¡Qué bonito ciclo narrativo! Pero pensé: Bridget Jones my milky arse! Y entonces le dije:
-But I've got this other ticket for my flight back home miss. Same day, departing 3 hours after I return from Cambodia. If I do like as you say, then I'll miss it! Isn't there anything I can do about it?
-Oh! Lemme see! Oh! so you're just connecting flights? Oh!! Well then things change. I thought you were staying here longer after returning. But if you don't leave the airport then there's no problem. Just tell the woman at the Siem Reap counter to check your bags all the way to Mexico. Have a good flight!
Me trepé al avión con la cara rojo camarón entomatado y no separé la naríz de la ventanilla hasta que aterrizamos... puta madre, estaba tan enojada como cansada, por lo que opté por neutralizar mis emociones y esperar el siguiente paso. Viva la discriminación por nacionalidad!
Llegando quedé bastante impresionada por la calidad arquitectónica del aeropuerto camboyano; coqueto coqueto indeed! Recogí maletas, pasé por los detectores de metal y pagué mis cuotas. Saliendo al delicioso calorcito nocturno me topé con cientos de locales montados en motocicletas al acecho por turistas indefensos llenos de maletas. Yo fui presa fácil aparentemente.
-Ride with me
-NO! WITH MEEEE-
-Ride hotel miss?
Me atacaron por doquier... pero mi instinto de citadina exportada me dijo que eligiera al de rostro menos asesino (ja, viva el sentido común). Me sentí juez de American Idol versión "quién tiene la cara más noble y menos de tevoyamataryviolardespuésdemuerta". Pagué mis 2 dólares por el aventón y me trepé con el chofer cara-de-niñito.
No hay como tener el viento en la cara, en una noche joven con una luna espectacular guiándote el camino. Tenía un audífono puesto en una oreja y con la otra prestaba atención a las breves narraciones de mi compañero de viajes. "Leik" me llevó a un hotel que le pareció óptimo para mi arribo súbito, puesto que le había contado (yo) que quería estar lo más cerca posible de las ruinas.
Me recibió un tal "Lucky"; un personaje increíblemente dibujable, es más, creo que me lo saqué del inconsciente... algún día escribiré una historia basándome en él. Y me guió al cuarto después de haberme despedido de Leik; acordamos que él sería mi guía a las ruinas también por un precio razonable -Tomorrow at 9 o'clock then-
Subí unas amplias escaleras de madera en un edificio extrañisimo, viejo y amarillo nápoles, con pasillos de imitación de mármol y extranjeros por doquier (yo incluida)
lunes, mayo 17, 2010
The reminiscing flavour inside a huge Mexican chocolate mug
There isn't much, that I feel I need, a solid soul, and the blood I bleed.
So time has taken giant strides since that amazing January... I can't get it out of my mind... it felt like finally peeking through the tiniest of cracks and grasping one single glance of what's outside the cave only to realize nothing is what it seems. There's a hole in the wall.
It was far more strong than a shot of heroin, like an everlasting slushie that's flavoured with the greatest moment in your life, it was more than making eye contact with your soul mate for the first time, simply more than just fine.
It's singing along to one song, for ever.
ADIEU
I thought I was never going to make it to Angkor: I had this strange feeling all along that it wasn't meant to be... even though I had in hand (well electronically speaking) my very own plane ticket to Siem Reap, bought with the help of my witty Texan friend at Amir's pueblo palace one sizzling weekend during TEFL days.
That final Friday I did not wake up, because I did not ever go to sleep in the first place... instead I stapled the Tuesday night remnants together with the unwelcoming Friday morning vestiges by taking one last cold bath in what had been my room for the month. I was barefoot, and so was my state of being. I picked up the last of my stuff and found an Australian coin I kept for good luck.
Taking a long breath I slid downstairs to get some water. I found our teacher there, and she gave me a string with bells and rocks attached to it. I wasn't paying much attention, I was high on not sleeping but I took it as an exchange for the fish I'd given her the night before: sort of a Polynesian temporary friendly swap thing in my tiredly-drunken mind. It's funny how girlie I get on goodbyes... I can go all "Crossroads" Britney Spears whenever the moment asks for it.
I returned upstairs when hearing Dave's motorbike engine outside the building and sat down on my usual spot, greeting the others with a cunning smile, for we had completed the task: we were qualified teachers at last! (and that rhymes, yes it does). I wore the turquoise necklace Lina had given me one day out of the green-blue for no reason whatsoever... it made me feel like a million bucks.
The diplomas were handed out in a sort of quickie ceremony: no wine served (like Lina had suggested the day before), no balloons or emotional sermons... that's the way it is with these guys; they see armies of trainees pass on through the same thresholds each and every single month, graduation parade non stop. No wonder they don't remember anyone, it's sad and funny at the same time. But that's what the group picture's for, so we went outside and had it taken: All of us looking fairly nostalgic except for Hollie who was happily relaxed all dread-lock-less, and of course JJ who was annoyed as usual.
After wards we mounted the van for one last time as Tao, our driver, said something like "wait, surprise for you". And so we waited, all dressed up and shared a casual chit chat for what seemed to be our final moment together. Surprise: We got backpacks! Yay for the ugliness!
We bid farewell to the staff members, to the TV room with the blue leather seats where we shared a mouth full of stupid ass movies. We waved g'bye to the balcony where Lester smoked like a Chinese factory chimney, to the Geckos and the children and the Mini Shop at the far end of the street where we bought our 10Baht red bulls and chocolate milk cartons. We said goodbye to our young Brit teacher, who finally seemed to have fallen for us right at the end, too bad for the tardiness.
And so we arrived at the taxi-station port thing where I was dropped off by my very handsome Egyptian friend and Lina (hahaha who is beautiful as well). I greeted the lady-boy behind the counter and presented my (not-lost-indeed-thank-Buddha) ticket for Suvarnabhumi airport in BKK. I got on yet another van, this time filled with strangers, and gave Amir my famous puppy stare behind the inked screen of the chunky gray vehicle.
I was so sad... inconsolable... devastated... hecha mierda.
But I was going to Angkor Wat, one of my biggest dreams since I first started fancying History lessons. Thank you Maureen Cornell at the JFK "We like bananas, we like 'em BIG!".
So time has taken giant strides since that amazing January... I can't get it out of my mind... it felt like finally peeking through the tiniest of cracks and grasping one single glance of what's outside the cave only to realize nothing is what it seems. There's a hole in the wall.
It was far more strong than a shot of heroin, like an everlasting slushie that's flavoured with the greatest moment in your life, it was more than making eye contact with your soul mate for the first time, simply more than just fine.
It's singing along to one song, for ever.
ADIEU
I thought I was never going to make it to Angkor: I had this strange feeling all along that it wasn't meant to be... even though I had in hand (well electronically speaking) my very own plane ticket to Siem Reap, bought with the help of my witty Texan friend at Amir's pueblo palace one sizzling weekend during TEFL days.
That final Friday I did not wake up, because I did not ever go to sleep in the first place... instead I stapled the Tuesday night remnants together with the unwelcoming Friday morning vestiges by taking one last cold bath in what had been my room for the month. I was barefoot, and so was my state of being. I picked up the last of my stuff and found an Australian coin I kept for good luck.
Taking a long breath I slid downstairs to get some water. I found our teacher there, and she gave me a string with bells and rocks attached to it. I wasn't paying much attention, I was high on not sleeping but I took it as an exchange for the fish I'd given her the night before: sort of a Polynesian temporary friendly swap thing in my tiredly-drunken mind. It's funny how girlie I get on goodbyes... I can go all "Crossroads" Britney Spears whenever the moment asks for it.
I returned upstairs when hearing Dave's motorbike engine outside the building and sat down on my usual spot, greeting the others with a cunning smile, for we had completed the task: we were qualified teachers at last! (and that rhymes, yes it does). I wore the turquoise necklace Lina had given me one day out of the green-blue for no reason whatsoever... it made me feel like a million bucks.
The diplomas were handed out in a sort of quickie ceremony: no wine served (like Lina had suggested the day before), no balloons or emotional sermons... that's the way it is with these guys; they see armies of trainees pass on through the same thresholds each and every single month, graduation parade non stop. No wonder they don't remember anyone, it's sad and funny at the same time. But that's what the group picture's for, so we went outside and had it taken: All of us looking fairly nostalgic except for Hollie who was happily relaxed all dread-lock-less, and of course JJ who was annoyed as usual.
After wards we mounted the van for one last time as Tao, our driver, said something like "wait, surprise for you". And so we waited, all dressed up and shared a casual chit chat for what seemed to be our final moment together. Surprise: We got backpacks! Yay for the ugliness!
We bid farewell to the staff members, to the TV room with the blue leather seats where we shared a mouth full of stupid ass movies. We waved g'bye to the balcony where Lester smoked like a Chinese factory chimney, to the Geckos and the children and the Mini Shop at the far end of the street where we bought our 10Baht red bulls and chocolate milk cartons. We said goodbye to our young Brit teacher, who finally seemed to have fallen for us right at the end, too bad for the tardiness.
And so we arrived at the taxi-station port thing where I was dropped off by my very handsome Egyptian friend and Lina (hahaha who is beautiful as well). I greeted the lady-boy behind the counter and presented my (not-lost-indeed-thank-Buddha) ticket for Suvarnabhumi airport in BKK. I got on yet another van, this time filled with strangers, and gave Amir my famous puppy stare behind the inked screen of the chunky gray vehicle.
I was so sad... inconsolable... devastated... hecha mierda.
But I was going to Angkor Wat, one of my biggest dreams since I first started fancying History lessons. Thank you Maureen Cornell at the JFK "We like bananas, we like 'em BIG!".
jueves, abril 22, 2010
Two black dimensionally reduced canine pups were looking out just over the horizon...
Wishfully was the way they sighed and blew away some sporadic saliva bubbles that danced, once in the air, with yellowy joy... air-waving towards the nothingness that separated the two hairy friends from their true dream: The island.
That same piece of floating Utopian land that had made them lose their meaty marbles ever since they took the rusty old road to the market for the first time (with their ma's) now looked as near and real to them as the chicken drumstick pup#1 had sneakily fetched from the butcher's choppin' table last Thursday night (meaning: VERY NEAR INDEED).
The elder dogs called it "The Magic Crystal Island". Only uncle Jacob the cripple had once been there (having one day sneaked inside one of those gigantic blue woody monsters hanging 'round the docks). But no one believes uncle Jacob's story of the Island after the accident. They say he was hit by a wooden wheeled whale pulled by a wooden wheeled tractor while crossing the street. One eyed Puck says that the impact caused uncle Jacob's brain to gush out of his head through colorful sprinkles that were sprayed through his ear-holes all the way to the heavens and above... so now the floating remains gotta wait for the body to pass on so that they can be reunited again.
Wishfully was the way they sighed and blew away some sporadic saliva bubbles that danced, once in the air, with yellowy joy... air-waving towards the nothingness that separated the two hairy friends from their true dream: The island.
That same piece of floating Utopian land that had made them lose their meaty marbles ever since they took the rusty old road to the market for the first time (with their ma's) now looked as near and real to them as the chicken drumstick pup#1 had sneakily fetched from the butcher's choppin' table last Thursday night (meaning: VERY NEAR INDEED).
The elder dogs called it "The Magic Crystal Island". Only uncle Jacob the cripple had once been there (having one day sneaked inside one of those gigantic blue woody monsters hanging 'round the docks). But no one believes uncle Jacob's story of the Island after the accident. They say he was hit by a wooden wheeled whale pulled by a wooden wheeled tractor while crossing the street. One eyed Puck says that the impact caused uncle Jacob's brain to gush out of his head through colorful sprinkles that were sprayed through his ear-holes all the way to the heavens and above... so now the floating remains gotta wait for the body to pass on so that they can be reunited again.
domingo, marzo 14, 2010
Lobster Killers and a Bunny Rat bit
No huge intro this time; well, just this: I've had an enormous amount of pine-kernel-nut-thing ice cream and I'm remembering a little more about a pair of certain individuals that I've yet to impregnate (not in a baby making form tho') into a written sort of creative manifestation. Here we go!
There ain't no real secret to the whole lobster killin' deed: it's just a matter o' wenchin' tight and reelin' even better for a long while. Then you gotta get a grip of it's sea-shelled-pawies until it goes leernish and slodgy. Thazzal!
Eggroll and Swampee trudged along the orange coastline, barefoot and singing to the midnight sunshine. Their shadows cast a rainbow projection on the tree-fold ceiling, and a couple of dobblers swung past, spraying them with yellow spit.
Eggroll waved furiously! But then remembered he actually fancied those fair coloured expectorated bubbles. The whole experience reminded him of when he was nearer to the ground and lived elsewhere (he had just recently moved to the place he lived nowadays) and that made him smile wider than ever... oh that other place where he grew down.
Swampee wasn't paying attention at all, he just bounced from pear to pear not thinking about the string theory or the chaos one either; Swampee hated particles and waves... especially on Sundays.
And so both carried on, yellow dotted and zig-zagging along the wavy road because of the many chewsters they found lying about (it's not very polite to stand on nature without a previous warning, or apology). They did so until the familiar fence appeared (that fence loved his little fence daughter, brother and wife), it creaked and let them into the pond zone. They strode and strode a little more because green was their fate for that evening.
Having laid down their expensive equipment, Swampee and Eggroll dismounted their imaginary kebabs and sat down to go through the plan once more before the big move.
-So now, listen good u mongrel. We have to be real silent, ya? These things have supersonic noses and can hear even better when they feel endangered. I is our duty to prevent that, get it buster?
-Of course I get it you retarded douchecouch! I MADE that plan a month ago, and you just read it on the way here! C'mon, we're already roaring our rear-ends outta the big catch... lezz move it!
They advanced, tiptoeing and flying once in a while (whenever wanting to believe they were capable of doing so... this happened gradually and on other days sporadically). And they also tiptoed some other 100 miles until achieving absolute exhaustion. After regaining consciousness they decided to drain cans of beans and therefore used the solids to create a beautifully decorated pan for cooking stones; they ate mud and fell asleep for an entire hour without breathing.
-Time's up donk king! Wakey fast 'coz the moon's about to shoot the sun for having stayed on top more than what's good for him.- Said Swampee
-I've been awake for more than 15 minutes slagger muser! Get on with the tying of the rope! We must finish the net before we get tired again and collapse involuntarily. Damn you narcolepsy it ain't funny!- Replied Eggroll
And that's how they used to address each other before the lobster killing, they did the same role every single time! Until they had it perfected right down to the last miserable line. Except for this time, because they had an extra character to deal with.
-Who's that that stares at my pong without my permission. It is very impolite to trespass into one's property without so much as bringing cake! It is even more impolite than stepping on nature!- Said a very acute voice behind some plastic bushes.
-Well it's us... the dinnies... But HEY who are YOU?! We've been coming here ever since we've had 2 tails, and nobody had we encountered on the befores!- Replied Eggroll, stuttering slightly.
-He he, you speak funny when you're nervous- Added Swampee, trying not to whisper as much, coz it annoys the plastic bushes.
-Shut it hazelbutt! I'm trying to clarify this present misunderstanding and you are acting like a black hole in a planet spiraling round an orbit that goes right after Saturn.-Muttered the other, and turned to the stranger- We're very sorry to disturb your apparent territorial belongings. We were just looking for some jilly willy lobsters to kill... it's not much fun, but there's overpopulation and they taste better than mud.-
-Very well... you may pass. But first let us have some tea and biscuits I stole from the last couple of visitors that stayed for supper and ended up locked in my basement. Shall we?-Said the gigantic and black bunny rat bit imposing his notorious presence right in front of them.
They both took their canes and ran away. No lobster killing for that day.
There ain't no real secret to the whole lobster killin' deed: it's just a matter o' wenchin' tight and reelin' even better for a long while. Then you gotta get a grip of it's sea-shelled-pawies until it goes leernish and slodgy. Thazzal!
Eggroll and Swampee trudged along the orange coastline, barefoot and singing to the midnight sunshine. Their shadows cast a rainbow projection on the tree-fold ceiling, and a couple of dobblers swung past, spraying them with yellow spit.
Eggroll waved furiously! But then remembered he actually fancied those fair coloured expectorated bubbles. The whole experience reminded him of when he was nearer to the ground and lived elsewhere (he had just recently moved to the place he lived nowadays) and that made him smile wider than ever... oh that other place where he grew down.
Swampee wasn't paying attention at all, he just bounced from pear to pear not thinking about the string theory or the chaos one either; Swampee hated particles and waves... especially on Sundays.
And so both carried on, yellow dotted and zig-zagging along the wavy road because of the many chewsters they found lying about (it's not very polite to stand on nature without a previous warning, or apology). They did so until the familiar fence appeared (that fence loved his little fence daughter, brother and wife), it creaked and let them into the pond zone. They strode and strode a little more because green was their fate for that evening.
Having laid down their expensive equipment, Swampee and Eggroll dismounted their imaginary kebabs and sat down to go through the plan once more before the big move.
-So now, listen good u mongrel. We have to be real silent, ya? These things have supersonic noses and can hear even better when they feel endangered. I is our duty to prevent that, get it buster?
-Of course I get it you retarded douchecouch! I MADE that plan a month ago, and you just read it on the way here! C'mon, we're already roaring our rear-ends outta the big catch... lezz move it!
They advanced, tiptoeing and flying once in a while (whenever wanting to believe they were capable of doing so... this happened gradually and on other days sporadically). And they also tiptoed some other 100 miles until achieving absolute exhaustion. After regaining consciousness they decided to drain cans of beans and therefore used the solids to create a beautifully decorated pan for cooking stones; they ate mud and fell asleep for an entire hour without breathing.
-Time's up donk king! Wakey fast 'coz the moon's about to shoot the sun for having stayed on top more than what's good for him.- Said Swampee
-I've been awake for more than 15 minutes slagger muser! Get on with the tying of the rope! We must finish the net before we get tired again and collapse involuntarily. Damn you narcolepsy it ain't funny!- Replied Eggroll
And that's how they used to address each other before the lobster killing, they did the same role every single time! Until they had it perfected right down to the last miserable line. Except for this time, because they had an extra character to deal with.
-Who's that that stares at my pong without my permission. It is very impolite to trespass into one's property without so much as bringing cake! It is even more impolite than stepping on nature!- Said a very acute voice behind some plastic bushes.
-Well it's us... the dinnies... But HEY who are YOU?! We've been coming here ever since we've had 2 tails, and nobody had we encountered on the befores!- Replied Eggroll, stuttering slightly.
-He he, you speak funny when you're nervous- Added Swampee, trying not to whisper as much, coz it annoys the plastic bushes.
-Shut it hazelbutt! I'm trying to clarify this present misunderstanding and you are acting like a black hole in a planet spiraling round an orbit that goes right after Saturn.-Muttered the other, and turned to the stranger- We're very sorry to disturb your apparent territorial belongings. We were just looking for some jilly willy lobsters to kill... it's not much fun, but there's overpopulation and they taste better than mud.-
-Very well... you may pass. But first let us have some tea and biscuits I stole from the last couple of visitors that stayed for supper and ended up locked in my basement. Shall we?-Said the gigantic and black bunny rat bit imposing his notorious presence right in front of them.
They both took their canes and ran away. No lobster killing for that day.
miércoles, febrero 24, 2010
Beerdee + a small shell
It strikes me how some of the nicest things in life are not only for free, but they hit you in the arse when least expected; like a 2000mph piano would on a "Dead Like Me" character (that was a toilet, tho'. Wasn't it?)
It so happened that I got 2 know (a little better) yet another wonderfully-baffling gal right at the end of the TEFL thing. It always goes that way with me; feeling like I've seen it all and then BOOM, there it is and then PUFF it's long gone and lost forever. I'm an expert at finding and evaporating kindred spirits, it's kinda like my THANG, yo!.
Anyway, this is my attempt of putting into incoherent words another slice of that cheesecake of what absolutely did not happen then and there, a little more or less than a month ago. Back to Ban Phe it is!
------------------------------------------------------
So I was bouncing from wire to wire like I usually do on Sunday evenings...
That's a lie. It was the first time I did that wire-dancing thing. I'm never allowed out of my cage unless... nothing! 'coz I'm never allowed out at all. But this time the Gods smiled at me, for the old lady fell asleep in her old rocking chair for quite a long time... and started creaking. And so my cheeks blushed hot red for the excitement revolving 'round an opportunity I had dreamed about for as long as I've been a critter, (which I'm not, coz I'm just a tiny yellow little freakin' canary). Nevertheless: I COULD FINALLY ESCAPE!.
So I sucked all the air I had in my little feathery chest and I "plupped!" my way out of 'em golden bars. And there I was: free to soar like those other birds I usually watch from my window.
Fuckers.
Anyway, I bounced away on the wires as if playing the cello with my very orangy feet, celebrating my victorious-machiavellic getaway with euphoric little pricklings of the rubber that covers those electric strings of death; or so I've learned thanks to the endless afternoon sessions of watching the Discovery Channel with the "prune":
-And that's why I never let you out, my dear! You'd die on those wires, like a roasted chicken!-
I hate that idiotic TV room, I'd much rather have a white wall to stare at for the rest of my days. Well not really. I'd prefer to live on an awesomely bushy canopy, from a bird's-foot trefoil. That'd be pretty damn sweet!
As I whistled away from branch to branch, surfing board to surfing board, and bald headedness to bald headedness, I tried eating strips of clouds but failed (at least they don't taste like those seeds I'm forced to chew up on. I mean; would it kill to have some cashew nuts or banana muffin crumbs once in a while? Gosh!). BUT THEN I caught a glimpse of something that struck me as odd.
A flickering light peeped, oh so invitingly, right out of a door slot on the left of a sign that read "Fern's Bar". A bar... wonder what that is. I don't even know how I was able to read that, being a bird and all... hmmm strange.
I approached, madly driven by the shiny intermittence of sporadic little twinkles... I go crazy for anything that rhymes with "light", and "bright" does! heeeeeee... (drools).
As I opened up my beak to swallow the fancy glimmering ray of whateverness, I was suddenly plunked (literally) by something that would certainly fit in the category of the unexpected. Certainly so.
SMACK!!!!!
-Oi! leave that thing alone! It's mine!- Some creature cried out to me, after having rudely hit my head with what I now realised was a very splintery chop stick.
-What the f...eather was that all about? I mean, there have got to be better ways of calling one's attention, you know- I said as I rubbed my forehead with one wing, and drew away any signs of teary leftovers on my face with the other.
-Crikey! I'm sorry, I did not realise a chop stick could be as deadly! Merked you dead good didn't I? You mardy.mardarse.mard. Thought you were going for my dinner- Was what I got for an answer.
-No! Ouch! Congrats, I guess- I replied, continuing the rubbing of the damaged area.
-Well, what a way to introduce oneself, I'd say, mighty fine! My name's &%$&#% by the way. What's yours?-
(&%$&#% is my textual translation of a sound that no human can interpret, known and understood only by flying beings).
As my eyes recovered focus I finally could see with whom I was sharing the strangest conversation: she was a deep blue and green coloured parrot with a burning red-orange beak. Quite stunning for a bird that's not necessarily a peacock.
- Well &%$&#%, it's nice and weird to meet you. I dunno my name, but She calls me Sandy. By "she" I mean the lady that has me for a pet trapped inside a golden cage. And feeds me shit at it- I listened to myself word out, resentfully.
-Feeds you shit? I eat anything I want. The owner (that man over there that looks kind of Russian) gives me anything going from a Veggie Kebab to a Strawberry-Hazelnut tart. I only need to look pretty standing here in my very own corner, and learn some human words from time to time. When I learn enough phrases I can go about teaching others like myself, maybe in other bars or in other beaches... depending on the weather-
Her eyes gleamed against the remnants of sunlight while she gave me this snippet version of her Bio. I was amused, but my head stung still, so I took ages in finding a suitable response.
-Well, lucky you! I just managed to get some air out of that house-arrest anti-home I've been living my whole life in and already I've experienced a near death encounter. With a chopstick! Gee it's been a ball, but I probably should get going in a few minutes anyways; my owner ought to wake up any minute now and she better find me there when that happens.- I said, and began to walk away.
-Wait! That's it? You're gonna return to your hell-hole life just like that? What about chance and destiny and the Flying Spaghetti Monster, and being free? You're a disappointment to your species! Go on then, I don't give a darn. Ta ta!- She spat at me (not literally tho') with a sarcastic tone.
So that's how I found myself in the bellybutton of one of those crossroad-chic flick movie scenes where you have to decide whether or not you should be a chicken (HA!), and return home OR be a bad ass canary with enough free will on your yellow plumage to take a leap of faith into the unknown.
But then I noticed something strange on her feet; they were tied up with some sort of discreet yet perceivable string with little bells attached on each end.
-What's that for?- I asked, raising an eyebrow.
-Oh! Never mind that... it's just for precaution. I tend to fancy flying away every so often, and the owner does not like it. He says I should stay with him and learn drunken words to entertain the world.- Her expression darkened after explaining this to me.
I got closer, laid a wing on her shoulder and bit the string until it snapped. I tied what was left on my own leg, and stepped away with what was now a new tinkling bracelet.
-It's not gonna be like this forever, you know? Some of us need to figure out what kinds of chirps n' chants we'd like to sing to the moon before the night blanket falls and covers the Earth. We are but a blink of the sun, yet our eyelash battings will get to brush over a million sunrises and another million sunsets or so. I'm awful thankful for our little encounter. Perhaps we'll run into each other some other time, or perhaps not. Let us see with our eyes closed and our faces to the skies.-
I don't know how I got so fucking poetic out of the blue. But I took flight right away and left the parrot to her own turbulent thoughts... I think I heard her yell something like:
"Alis volat propiis!" But then again, she might have just burped a little.
I have a strong feeling we shall meet again.
It so happened that I got 2 know (a little better) yet another wonderfully-baffling gal right at the end of the TEFL thing. It always goes that way with me; feeling like I've seen it all and then BOOM, there it is and then PUFF it's long gone and lost forever. I'm an expert at finding and evaporating kindred spirits, it's kinda like my THANG, yo!.
Anyway, this is my attempt of putting into incoherent words another slice of that cheesecake of what absolutely did not happen then and there, a little more or less than a month ago. Back to Ban Phe it is!
------------------------------------------------------
So I was bouncing from wire to wire like I usually do on Sunday evenings...
That's a lie. It was the first time I did that wire-dancing thing. I'm never allowed out of my cage unless... nothing! 'coz I'm never allowed out at all. But this time the Gods smiled at me, for the old lady fell asleep in her old rocking chair for quite a long time... and started creaking. And so my cheeks blushed hot red for the excitement revolving 'round an opportunity I had dreamed about for as long as I've been a critter, (which I'm not, coz I'm just a tiny yellow little freakin' canary). Nevertheless: I COULD FINALLY ESCAPE!.
So I sucked all the air I had in my little feathery chest and I "plupped!" my way out of 'em golden bars. And there I was: free to soar like those other birds I usually watch from my window.
Fuckers.
Anyway, I bounced away on the wires as if playing the cello with my very orangy feet, celebrating my victorious-machiavellic getaway with euphoric little pricklings of the rubber that covers those electric strings of death; or so I've learned thanks to the endless afternoon sessions of watching the Discovery Channel with the "prune":
-And that's why I never let you out, my dear! You'd die on those wires, like a roasted chicken!-
I hate that idiotic TV room, I'd much rather have a white wall to stare at for the rest of my days. Well not really. I'd prefer to live on an awesomely bushy canopy, from a bird's-foot trefoil. That'd be pretty damn sweet!
As I whistled away from branch to branch, surfing board to surfing board, and bald headedness to bald headedness, I tried eating strips of clouds but failed (at least they don't taste like those seeds I'm forced to chew up on. I mean; would it kill to have some cashew nuts or banana muffin crumbs once in a while? Gosh!). BUT THEN I caught a glimpse of something that struck me as odd.
A flickering light peeped, oh so invitingly, right out of a door slot on the left of a sign that read "Fern's Bar". A bar... wonder what that is. I don't even know how I was able to read that, being a bird and all... hmmm strange.
I approached, madly driven by the shiny intermittence of sporadic little twinkles... I go crazy for anything that rhymes with "light", and "bright" does! heeeeeee... (drools).
As I opened up my beak to swallow the fancy glimmering ray of whateverness, I was suddenly plunked (literally) by something that would certainly fit in the category of the unexpected. Certainly so.
SMACK!!!!!
-Oi! leave that thing alone! It's mine!- Some creature cried out to me, after having rudely hit my head with what I now realised was a very splintery chop stick.
-What the f...eather was that all about? I mean, there have got to be better ways of calling one's attention, you know- I said as I rubbed my forehead with one wing, and drew away any signs of teary leftovers on my face with the other.
-Crikey! I'm sorry, I did not realise a chop stick could be as deadly! Merked you dead good didn't I? You mardy.mardarse.mard. Thought you were going for my dinner- Was what I got for an answer.
-No! Ouch! Congrats, I guess- I replied, continuing the rubbing of the damaged area.
-Well, what a way to introduce oneself, I'd say, mighty fine! My name's &%$&#% by the way. What's yours?-
(&%$&#% is my textual translation of a sound that no human can interpret, known and understood only by flying beings).
As my eyes recovered focus I finally could see with whom I was sharing the strangest conversation: she was a deep blue and green coloured parrot with a burning red-orange beak. Quite stunning for a bird that's not necessarily a peacock.
- Well &%$&#%, it's nice and weird to meet you. I dunno my name, but She calls me Sandy. By "she" I mean the lady that has me for a pet trapped inside a golden cage. And feeds me shit at it- I listened to myself word out, resentfully.
-Feeds you shit? I eat anything I want. The owner (that man over there that looks kind of Russian) gives me anything going from a Veggie Kebab to a Strawberry-Hazelnut tart. I only need to look pretty standing here in my very own corner, and learn some human words from time to time. When I learn enough phrases I can go about teaching others like myself, maybe in other bars or in other beaches... depending on the weather-
Her eyes gleamed against the remnants of sunlight while she gave me this snippet version of her Bio. I was amused, but my head stung still, so I took ages in finding a suitable response.
-Well, lucky you! I just managed to get some air out of that house-arrest anti-home I've been living my whole life in and already I've experienced a near death encounter. With a chopstick! Gee it's been a ball, but I probably should get going in a few minutes anyways; my owner ought to wake up any minute now and she better find me there when that happens.- I said, and began to walk away.
-Wait! That's it? You're gonna return to your hell-hole life just like that? What about chance and destiny and the Flying Spaghetti Monster, and being free? You're a disappointment to your species! Go on then, I don't give a darn. Ta ta!- She spat at me (not literally tho') with a sarcastic tone.
So that's how I found myself in the bellybutton of one of those crossroad-chic flick movie scenes where you have to decide whether or not you should be a chicken (HA!), and return home OR be a bad ass canary with enough free will on your yellow plumage to take a leap of faith into the unknown.
But then I noticed something strange on her feet; they were tied up with some sort of discreet yet perceivable string with little bells attached on each end.
-What's that for?- I asked, raising an eyebrow.
-Oh! Never mind that... it's just for precaution. I tend to fancy flying away every so often, and the owner does not like it. He says I should stay with him and learn drunken words to entertain the world.- Her expression darkened after explaining this to me.
I got closer, laid a wing on her shoulder and bit the string until it snapped. I tied what was left on my own leg, and stepped away with what was now a new tinkling bracelet.
-It's not gonna be like this forever, you know? Some of us need to figure out what kinds of chirps n' chants we'd like to sing to the moon before the night blanket falls and covers the Earth. We are but a blink of the sun, yet our eyelash battings will get to brush over a million sunrises and another million sunsets or so. I'm awful thankful for our little encounter. Perhaps we'll run into each other some other time, or perhaps not. Let us see with our eyes closed and our faces to the skies.-
I don't know how I got so fucking poetic out of the blue. But I took flight right away and left the parrot to her own turbulent thoughts... I think I heard her yell something like:
"Alis volat propiis!" But then again, she might have just burped a little.
I have a strong feeling we shall meet again.
martes, febrero 16, 2010
The turquoise necklace, and a heavy hearted hedgehog
Anamnesis... I rode my bike today. Woke up in this random bed with a random person next to me (that I soon recognized to be Mayra, my animation class teammate), doodled my way into the shower, got some pants on and toothpaste in my mouth, spat, and drove away above the wistful shades of the familiar trees that decorate my daily pathway to Uni in Xochimilco, Mexico City.
The Postal Service lulled my direction as the tires enveloped the perimeter of the gray streets (Iphone was on and kicking), right there and then I plunged into the sea of memories that give meaning to the soundtrack of my life.
I was 6 years old and could not find my brother. There was only his purple hat to be seen lying motionless on top of a very peculiar heap of snow... then I heard his voice. Inside it.-------------------------------
Anyways, I pushed that bubble away as I passed over a bumpy part of the road, and landed on another thought; a slightly more recent one. I find it curious how these two, like the rest of my memories, have the same visual quality in my mind (HD) no matter how long it's been since they happened. I've a hard time remembering dates, names, faces or numbers (especially birthdays) but BOY can I remember SCENES, and savour them-songs and conversations like Grenouille did with smells.
----------------------------------------------------
Lester was the most silent of the clan. He usually just sneaked (or "snuck" if you prefer) out of our highly uncomfortably-tensed conversations (regarding religious differences amongst Arabs and stupid Texans) just to smoke, and he did some more smoking after that, and then smoked way more as a dessert for the previous smokings.
It was as if he'd chosen to sublime himself away from reality and hence had managed to evaporate completely into a state of absolute peace. I was scared he'd spontaneously combust or some random shit. He looked as though he had chili peppers down his pants, but at the same time he was so chilled it drove me nuts. Jittery-calmed bastErd.
I knew right away there was something more to him underneath the cloud of fuming gases that surrounded his persona in place of a shadow. I was bound to meet the red dragon on his back.
I made him this story:
------------------------------
And so I came to find this rather bucolic character that made me think of one of the stories dad used to read to me and my brother right after tucking us in our comfiest beddy-bed: "The Mock Turtle". This other creature was cute, and small, and had spiny/pointy things covering the whole of his body except for the belly and the face, and the paw-hands of course. And the feet!
I was looking for my shell underneath the old oak tree and had found this hedgehog staring at his feet instead. I asked him:
-Hi there! What's the matter? If you fix your eyes that hard upon whatever, then you're bound to grow some roots outta them! Joe told me so- I said, trying to look as though I knew exactly what I meant by that.
-Oh, hello. Well it so happens that I've forgotten the... hmm I've forgotten again. I think I'm going to sit here for a while and burn little twigs. The smell eases my mind- Answered he, with a slightly melancholic tone to it.
I was confused, but I decided to push the chit-chat a little further to see what else I could find about this amusing being I'd just chanced upon. Hedgehogs can be as cuddly as they can be piercing, depending on how much rice with eggs they've eaten that day, so I've been told. This one looked pretty full.
-So, what's your name?- I muttered, again.
-I don't remember. You see, I drank this tree's milk an old owl gave me so that I could erase all my memories.- He took a long time to think each word before saying the whole thing out loud. But I was very interested at that point.
-Right. So, how can you remember you ever did that?- I asked, rubbing my chin as grownups do when thinking real hard.
-I wrote a note to myself on my feet with Indian ink. See?-
I read the note on his feet; it explained what he had just said. So I believed him. And the letters were pretty.
-Yikes! Well... I get it. But I cannot imagine what it would be like to forget everything! I love remembering... like that one time I was supposed to fill a WHOLE basket with strawberries we were picking from the backyard so that mum could make jelly. But me and Joe ate every single one before we'd made it back to the cottage. I took the blame and was grounded and wasn't allowed to eat sweets for a week.- I said, proud of my brief anecdote.
-That's quite a nasty memory! Wouldn't you rather not have it at all?- Replied the hedgehog, pushing the dirt with a burnt stick.
-Dunno, maybe you're right! But how am I supposed to learn from my mistakes if I do not remember them?- I added, promptly.
-That's a good question, but I cannot seem to provide you with the right answer for it.- He said as he looked away.
-Maybe I can help you remember.- I suggested, smiling.
-No! Then it would all have been pointless... HERE little one.- He stood up and handed me a notebook made out of green leaves and adobe. -I grant you the permission to read through my written memories. But you have to promise not to tell me anything about it after you finish, I'm never to go through the contents of those pages ever again. Swear you won't tell.-
I swore with my hand on my heart and meant it truly. I then read the pages carefully, and after closing the notebook I felt like the saddest girl in the world.
I soon realized I was crying without wanting to, but I sneezed and turned to clean my face discreetly with the red tissue Gran gave me when I left home.
I didn't know what to do or say or not do or not say, so I did nothing for a while. We just sat there, looking at the fallen pieces of bark the oak tree had scattered after changing skins. We listened to each others' recycling of air.
Then the hedgehog lit up another twig, and I watched him puff it slowly. I broke the silence with another question.
-And what do you do nowadays to feel good?- I said, and waited for an answer.
-Well, I've been taking good care of this little dandelion ever since it grew out from the ground.- He showed me the flower.- That was before I lost my memory. He whispers new things from time to time, you know? And I listen... He told me once that I had fallen in love with a beautiful cloud but she was blown away to China. That's where, my dandelion tells me, all clouds are sent by the winds whenever they are covetted by earthly creatures like myself. I will forget about this anyway.- He stopped.
-Well, clouds do tend to change spots all the time, sometimes without even wanting to. Guess it's way better to love something that shares the same ground as you do. Don't you agree?- I said, not really thinking about what I was saying but most likely just feeling it out.
-Right, like my dandelion.- The hedgehog softly replied.
-Like that, yes.- I added, glad to know we were coming to an agreement.
-Maybe someday, when he's old enough I can blow his seeds so they can fly and chase clouds like I supposedly once did. Maybe he can finally learn how to catch one, maybe even a star!- He said as a spoken sigh.
-Yeah, maybe he will.-
I took off right after the sun went down to sleep because it was too late for a little girl like me to be wandering off without supervision.
From that day on, every time I come across one of those spiky-soft flowers I think of how valuable it is to keep track of the all the different kinds of individuals you randomly meet. Most have stories like these; the ones that make your insides want to grow out of your body like branches of an oak tree.
Sometimes I too want to catch a cloud of my own.
The Postal Service lulled my direction as the tires enveloped the perimeter of the gray streets (Iphone was on and kicking), right there and then I plunged into the sea of memories that give meaning to the soundtrack of my life.
I was 6 years old and could not find my brother. There was only his purple hat to be seen lying motionless on top of a very peculiar heap of snow... then I heard his voice. Inside it.-------------------------------
Anyways, I pushed that bubble away as I passed over a bumpy part of the road, and landed on another thought; a slightly more recent one. I find it curious how these two, like the rest of my memories, have the same visual quality in my mind (HD) no matter how long it's been since they happened. I've a hard time remembering dates, names, faces or numbers (especially birthdays) but BOY can I remember SCENES, and savour them-songs and conversations like Grenouille did with smells.
----------------------------------------------------
Lester was the most silent of the clan. He usually just sneaked (or "snuck" if you prefer) out of our highly uncomfortably-tensed conversations (regarding religious differences amongst Arabs and stupid Texans) just to smoke, and he did some more smoking after that, and then smoked way more as a dessert for the previous smokings.
It was as if he'd chosen to sublime himself away from reality and hence had managed to evaporate completely into a state of absolute peace. I was scared he'd spontaneously combust or some random shit. He looked as though he had chili peppers down his pants, but at the same time he was so chilled it drove me nuts. Jittery-calmed bastErd.
I knew right away there was something more to him underneath the cloud of fuming gases that surrounded his persona in place of a shadow. I was bound to meet the red dragon on his back.
I made him this story:
------------------------------
And so I came to find this rather bucolic character that made me think of one of the stories dad used to read to me and my brother right after tucking us in our comfiest beddy-bed: "The Mock Turtle". This other creature was cute, and small, and had spiny/pointy things covering the whole of his body except for the belly and the face, and the paw-hands of course. And the feet!
I was looking for my shell underneath the old oak tree and had found this hedgehog staring at his feet instead. I asked him:
-Hi there! What's the matter? If you fix your eyes that hard upon whatever, then you're bound to grow some roots outta them! Joe told me so- I said, trying to look as though I knew exactly what I meant by that.
-Oh, hello. Well it so happens that I've forgotten the... hmm I've forgotten again. I think I'm going to sit here for a while and burn little twigs. The smell eases my mind- Answered he, with a slightly melancholic tone to it.
I was confused, but I decided to push the chit-chat a little further to see what else I could find about this amusing being I'd just chanced upon. Hedgehogs can be as cuddly as they can be piercing, depending on how much rice with eggs they've eaten that day, so I've been told. This one looked pretty full.
-So, what's your name?- I muttered, again.
-I don't remember. You see, I drank this tree's milk an old owl gave me so that I could erase all my memories.- He took a long time to think each word before saying the whole thing out loud. But I was very interested at that point.
-Right. So, how can you remember you ever did that?- I asked, rubbing my chin as grownups do when thinking real hard.
-I wrote a note to myself on my feet with Indian ink. See?-
I read the note on his feet; it explained what he had just said. So I believed him. And the letters were pretty.
-Yikes! Well... I get it. But I cannot imagine what it would be like to forget everything! I love remembering... like that one time I was supposed to fill a WHOLE basket with strawberries we were picking from the backyard so that mum could make jelly. But me and Joe ate every single one before we'd made it back to the cottage. I took the blame and was grounded and wasn't allowed to eat sweets for a week.- I said, proud of my brief anecdote.
-That's quite a nasty memory! Wouldn't you rather not have it at all?- Replied the hedgehog, pushing the dirt with a burnt stick.
-Dunno, maybe you're right! But how am I supposed to learn from my mistakes if I do not remember them?- I added, promptly.
-That's a good question, but I cannot seem to provide you with the right answer for it.- He said as he looked away.
-Maybe I can help you remember.- I suggested, smiling.
-No! Then it would all have been pointless... HERE little one.- He stood up and handed me a notebook made out of green leaves and adobe. -I grant you the permission to read through my written memories. But you have to promise not to tell me anything about it after you finish, I'm never to go through the contents of those pages ever again. Swear you won't tell.-
I swore with my hand on my heart and meant it truly. I then read the pages carefully, and after closing the notebook I felt like the saddest girl in the world.
I soon realized I was crying without wanting to, but I sneezed and turned to clean my face discreetly with the red tissue Gran gave me when I left home.
I didn't know what to do or say or not do or not say, so I did nothing for a while. We just sat there, looking at the fallen pieces of bark the oak tree had scattered after changing skins. We listened to each others' recycling of air.
Then the hedgehog lit up another twig, and I watched him puff it slowly. I broke the silence with another question.
-And what do you do nowadays to feel good?- I said, and waited for an answer.
-Well, I've been taking good care of this little dandelion ever since it grew out from the ground.- He showed me the flower.- That was before I lost my memory. He whispers new things from time to time, you know? And I listen... He told me once that I had fallen in love with a beautiful cloud but she was blown away to China. That's where, my dandelion tells me, all clouds are sent by the winds whenever they are covetted by earthly creatures like myself. I will forget about this anyway.- He stopped.
-Well, clouds do tend to change spots all the time, sometimes without even wanting to. Guess it's way better to love something that shares the same ground as you do. Don't you agree?- I said, not really thinking about what I was saying but most likely just feeling it out.
-Right, like my dandelion.- The hedgehog softly replied.
-Like that, yes.- I added, glad to know we were coming to an agreement.
-Maybe someday, when he's old enough I can blow his seeds so they can fly and chase clouds like I supposedly once did. Maybe he can finally learn how to catch one, maybe even a star!- He said as a spoken sigh.
-Yeah, maybe he will.-
I took off right after the sun went down to sleep because it was too late for a little girl like me to be wandering off without supervision.
From that day on, every time I come across one of those spiky-soft flowers I think of how valuable it is to keep track of the all the different kinds of individuals you randomly meet. Most have stories like these; the ones that make your insides want to grow out of your body like branches of an oak tree.
Sometimes I too want to catch a cloud of my own.
domingo, febrero 14, 2010
For Lina (and Amir)
There once was a Lioness who had everything she could ever dream of. She drank cloud tasting gum drops, slept on golden sheets sowed by precious little elves from the mountains, and could get any type of alcoholic beverage at the snap of her fingers... she even had her own island near Fiji, and her own shopping mall.
Oh! the parties she had. Oh! the endless fun in the land of the plentiful.
Little did she know, for she was to meet a kaleidoscopic dragonfly that came from a far away place known as the British Isles (why not?); she hesitated for exactly two seconds, but then decided to chase after it, senselessly drawn by the pretty pretty colours on its wings... They were soooo very pretty indeed.
So the Lioness and the dragonfly jumped over ponds of marshmallow lillies and ran thru forests of cherry pies and jelly beans holding hands (well paw and wing, sort of, you know); not caring about anything but the togertherness of the idea of being together (???). They were in a state of pure joy and joyness, even better than going to candy mountain with Charlie the Unicorn.
However! one day she discovered they had walked for so long she did not recognize any of her surroundings anymore... Her mother had told her never to cross the yellow sign that said "Lioness, do not cross this yellow sign". She had crossed it, obviously. Blinded by the pure excitement of chasing a brightly brittle bug that she had now come to love, and she was loved back as well.
But then she looked around and sneered distastefully at the dirty looking scenery... she was miles away from home, and this new place looked like it could use some Windex. But then again she also wanted to live with this dragonfly and bask in the sunlight for every single day from that moment on. She was free for the first time in her life, and would not give that feeling away for all the mountain elves in the world (there aren't many nowadays, you know).
She was puzzled indeed... What was she to do?
Then, all of a sudden this huge Elephant appeared out of the blue (and yellow), and shared a bucket full of a strange smelling liquor with her. They used different straws of course.
The elephant came from a jungle that interestingly enough was adjacent to her own kingdom. So they babbled away drinking and crying like old Texan friends on rocking chairs out on the porch. Soon the Lioness learned of the elephant's misfortunes; he too was a king who had lost his way searching for better and better tasting grass... when he raised his head to look at the Sun he realized he was utterly and totally lost. He wept for his two children back home, who were named basically the same but in different wording.
They drank heaps and heaps of buckets that they refilled with their own tears and ocean water and booze until their bellies were so full they could not look at each other in the face any longer.
That's when the Lioness had an epiphany...
I don't remember the rest of the story, but I know the Lioness lived happily ever after, and got married, and had children that spoke better Spanish than she did. And she looked beautiful because she was truly happy, all thanks to her persevering sense of truth. Oh! and also because of some Mexican squirrel she met on the way that convinced her to try harder and keep on smiling no matter the pickle... that as well.
THE END
Oh! the parties she had. Oh! the endless fun in the land of the plentiful.
Little did she know, for she was to meet a kaleidoscopic dragonfly that came from a far away place known as the British Isles (why not?); she hesitated for exactly two seconds, but then decided to chase after it, senselessly drawn by the pretty pretty colours on its wings... They were soooo very pretty indeed.
So the Lioness and the dragonfly jumped over ponds of marshmallow lillies and ran thru forests of cherry pies and jelly beans holding hands (well paw and wing, sort of, you know); not caring about anything but the togertherness of the idea of being together (???). They were in a state of pure joy and joyness, even better than going to candy mountain with Charlie the Unicorn.
However! one day she discovered they had walked for so long she did not recognize any of her surroundings anymore... Her mother had told her never to cross the yellow sign that said "Lioness, do not cross this yellow sign". She had crossed it, obviously. Blinded by the pure excitement of chasing a brightly brittle bug that she had now come to love, and she was loved back as well.
But then she looked around and sneered distastefully at the dirty looking scenery... she was miles away from home, and this new place looked like it could use some Windex. But then again she also wanted to live with this dragonfly and bask in the sunlight for every single day from that moment on. She was free for the first time in her life, and would not give that feeling away for all the mountain elves in the world (there aren't many nowadays, you know).
She was puzzled indeed... What was she to do?
Then, all of a sudden this huge Elephant appeared out of the blue (and yellow), and shared a bucket full of a strange smelling liquor with her. They used different straws of course.
The elephant came from a jungle that interestingly enough was adjacent to her own kingdom. So they babbled away drinking and crying like old Texan friends on rocking chairs out on the porch. Soon the Lioness learned of the elephant's misfortunes; he too was a king who had lost his way searching for better and better tasting grass... when he raised his head to look at the Sun he realized he was utterly and totally lost. He wept for his two children back home, who were named basically the same but in different wording.
They drank heaps and heaps of buckets that they refilled with their own tears and ocean water and booze until their bellies were so full they could not look at each other in the face any longer.
That's when the Lioness had an epiphany...
I don't remember the rest of the story, but I know the Lioness lived happily ever after, and got married, and had children that spoke better Spanish than she did. And she looked beautiful because she was truly happy, all thanks to her persevering sense of truth. Oh! and also because of some Mexican squirrel she met on the way that convinced her to try harder and keep on smiling no matter the pickle... that as well.
THE END
jueves, febrero 11, 2010
A silver fish for an anchored necklace
THE END.
Here I am, decomposing and restructuring chaotic feelings that "vulture" mercilessly round and round my confused little scalp... it's as if the whole trip was dreamt and nothing more; it's Asia no more.
I've two friends in the hospital, a huge animation project due next week and a sudden feel for french vanilla tea (since I can't seem to muster enough sleep I've had to come up with an alternative to coffee), that and cheese.
Oh! and all of a sudden I realize I'm way more hyperactive whenever speaking English than I am in any other language. I pity those who can't speak "Mexican" then: they get the most pungent side of me. Jumpy Xalli.
Funny, when I look at the postcards I bought at the very shabby looking shop in Koh Samet (where the lady was quite nasty indeed) I suddenly become swallowed by a torrent of flashbacks that pixelate(sic) the 4 walls of this studio into a somewhat befuddled composition of greens and yellows. And so I'm driven back to the old Thai pueblo:
"See you at 7 downstairs in the guesthouse"
This is how our good friend Amir bade us farewell every single day at 5 o'clock, right after wrapping up our heavy load of Lesson Planning endless sheets and sheets and shit-that-was-long. The burden of being a teacher trainee; rookie textual scourging! shpaaaa!
Weary and longing for shorts we all nodded, mentally absent, and emitted a brief "hhuuuaaauuhhh" to him in reply... Chewbacca-like, and not necessarily meaning we would actually go and succumb to his request. But most times we did take the 15 minute trudge under the unforgiving Thai sun towards the TAWANINN after class. We did it just for kicks and knowing we would be welcomed by a smiling Egyptian with a huge heart (and a keen Thai stalker woman who chucked rocks at his window, and left hieroglyphic love notes in his room; very much like a Shakespearean scene directed by Tarantino). He always opened up the door wearing his PJ's looking as if he'd been sleeping for a straight century and dreaming of magic carpets (hahaha not really).
We just sat there on his balcony, siping away our tiredness out of a stolen red bucket filled with a dodgy and marvelous tasting whiskey/rum and average coke. Oh, the 10 baht bottles of Redbull!
But on that last Thursday we spent together there was something different in the taste of the pavement, in the smell of the motionless trees stuck on the earth, in the fluency dictated by each of our corporal movements... Everything was so beautiful it killed me! But I wasn't going to show it, no sir, not tonight; and so I squeezed every single second belonging to that fruitful evening and did not sleep for a single bit. I thought that if I stretched time by being awake I would manage to freeze the vivacity of the actual sequence of events that came to happen as purely as possible; Distilling them into perpetually fresh memories for and from the wallpaper of my conscience. I'm an artist and I'm crazy and this is what I remember:
Our last lesson turned out to be just right in spite of the unexpected impediments; no one fucked up (not real bad anyways) with the structural process, even though the heat was intense! And we appeared more like melting icicles than very professional English teachers. But the high school Thai kids were supportive, and giggled at Lina's disastrous attempts of drawing a map of China; the result resembled what we thought out to be a monkey tumor!!! So the three of us (JJ, Rebecca and myself) were suppressing euphoric explosions of laughter at the back of the room. Hilarious. At least she did not sketch a giant beach ball and tried to persuade the students it was "THE WORLD".
We wore our pink patrol uniforms (the King's T shirt with a bright and pupil-killing version of a pink color), so we looked cutely retarded I suppose. And we kicked ass! We so did kick it that our supervisor for the session (Rebecca) doodled away with passion and admiration all over our report sheets... out of pure love for our work, that AND boredom. Oh, behold the young and the restless!
I don't think JJ's ever hated the warmer as much as that day (he came first and had to cope through both our apparently never-ending introductions), but we all survived the day. And so we boarded our glorious ship (Tao's minibus) along with the other three trainees (Lester, Hollie, and Amir) towards our home-for-the-month: the grayest TEFL building of 'em all.
Back in the classroom Dave (the BAWSE) told us to finish filling up our manuals and deliver them at 2 o' clock in the afternoon... after that we were FREE like soaring butterflies on a November skyline. DRINKING TIME!
Here I am, decomposing and restructuring chaotic feelings that "vulture" mercilessly round and round my confused little scalp... it's as if the whole trip was dreamt and nothing more; it's Asia no more.
I've two friends in the hospital, a huge animation project due next week and a sudden feel for french vanilla tea (since I can't seem to muster enough sleep I've had to come up with an alternative to coffee), that and cheese.
Oh! and all of a sudden I realize I'm way more hyperactive whenever speaking English than I am in any other language. I pity those who can't speak "Mexican" then: they get the most pungent side of me. Jumpy Xalli.
Funny, when I look at the postcards I bought at the very shabby looking shop in Koh Samet (where the lady was quite nasty indeed) I suddenly become swallowed by a torrent of flashbacks that pixelate(sic) the 4 walls of this studio into a somewhat befuddled composition of greens and yellows. And so I'm driven back to the old Thai pueblo:
"See you at 7 downstairs in the guesthouse"
This is how our good friend Amir bade us farewell every single day at 5 o'clock, right after wrapping up our heavy load of Lesson Planning endless sheets and sheets and shit-that-was-long. The burden of being a teacher trainee; rookie textual scourging! shpaaaa!
Weary and longing for shorts we all nodded, mentally absent, and emitted a brief "hhuuuaaauuhhh" to him in reply... Chewbacca-like, and not necessarily meaning we would actually go and succumb to his request. But most times we did take the 15 minute trudge under the unforgiving Thai sun towards the TAWANINN after class. We did it just for kicks and knowing we would be welcomed by a smiling Egyptian with a huge heart (and a keen Thai stalker woman who chucked rocks at his window, and left hieroglyphic love notes in his room; very much like a Shakespearean scene directed by Tarantino). He always opened up the door wearing his PJ's looking as if he'd been sleeping for a straight century and dreaming of magic carpets (hahaha not really).
We just sat there on his balcony, siping away our tiredness out of a stolen red bucket filled with a dodgy and marvelous tasting whiskey/rum and average coke. Oh, the 10 baht bottles of Redbull!
But on that last Thursday we spent together there was something different in the taste of the pavement, in the smell of the motionless trees stuck on the earth, in the fluency dictated by each of our corporal movements... Everything was so beautiful it killed me! But I wasn't going to show it, no sir, not tonight; and so I squeezed every single second belonging to that fruitful evening and did not sleep for a single bit. I thought that if I stretched time by being awake I would manage to freeze the vivacity of the actual sequence of events that came to happen as purely as possible; Distilling them into perpetually fresh memories for and from the wallpaper of my conscience. I'm an artist and I'm crazy and this is what I remember:
Our last lesson turned out to be just right in spite of the unexpected impediments; no one fucked up (not real bad anyways) with the structural process, even though the heat was intense! And we appeared more like melting icicles than very professional English teachers. But the high school Thai kids were supportive, and giggled at Lina's disastrous attempts of drawing a map of China; the result resembled what we thought out to be a monkey tumor!!! So the three of us (JJ, Rebecca and myself) were suppressing euphoric explosions of laughter at the back of the room. Hilarious. At least she did not sketch a giant beach ball and tried to persuade the students it was "THE WORLD".
We wore our pink patrol uniforms (the King's T shirt with a bright and pupil-killing version of a pink color), so we looked cutely retarded I suppose. And we kicked ass! We so did kick it that our supervisor for the session (Rebecca) doodled away with passion and admiration all over our report sheets... out of pure love for our work, that AND boredom. Oh, behold the young and the restless!
I don't think JJ's ever hated the warmer as much as that day (he came first and had to cope through both our apparently never-ending introductions), but we all survived the day. And so we boarded our glorious ship (Tao's minibus) along with the other three trainees (Lester, Hollie, and Amir) towards our home-for-the-month: the grayest TEFL building of 'em all.
Back in the classroom Dave (the BAWSE) told us to finish filling up our manuals and deliver them at 2 o' clock in the afternoon... after that we were FREE like soaring butterflies on a November skyline. DRINKING TIME!
sábado, enero 23, 2010
And so my waking found its end, only to be found amongst the dirtiest selves, my friend...
Wake up, smell the coffee (or lack thereof), grab some appropriate pants and walk out into the gloomy corridor... slide down the same staircase that welcomes you every single day with a promise of nothingness and a smell of reddy orange to it.
Stride along the staff offices and wave a sleepy hi to the people behind the screens (kinda reminding you of that Orwell scene... but you swiftly blow the bubble-thought away).
Go out the door, careful not to lay a single step on the threshold (keeps up the spirits... literally speaking) and add an extra layer to your barefoot soles... solely stabilizing the lower part of your body-canvas that drags along the very bottom of your soul.
Get 'em flipflops on (those blue rubber bastards that bear tiny bits of your footy personality, they are in fact falling apart day by day).
Now you're out on the street, take a few more steps and turn 30 degrees to the right to give a subtle nod to the guard. R-E-S-P-E-C-T.
Say goodbye to the TEFL school building: three stories to an old novelistic compound of degrading grays and corinthian columnata (random architecture indeed, for a place like this).
Geckos slither from corner to corner and chase after bugs with an ethereal, inconspicuous air, melting away into the scenery as you move along. Mimesis... biology drives you nuts.
The ground has changed alright, sandy-wet little rocks erode into smaller and smaller pieces as you hear the crushing sounds that your shoes emit whenever applying a downward force upon them (do they complain whatsoever? fancy them having dreams of shrinking, I do sometimes).
You're humming that ol' song that's been superglued to your brain since last Saturday, but you don't mind. It's become the soundtrack of your life here in the land of the unforgiving (or was it unforgetting?) elephant people: Thailand.
"She wants to know, does everyone feel this way... when it rains in Asia..."
The ocean faces your left side as you turn to your right, freeing yourself from the spacially-psychological-sandwiching of various laundry shops, small restaurants and motorbike-renting spots on both sides of the narrow highway taking you to godknowswhere if you dare exploring more than what's legal (whatever that means).
You dodge several maniacal motorbike-drivers (these being 7-8 year olds or in better cases old women petting their dogs and not watching the road! casually). Your hear the doppler fading of the goose-like honking the locals tend to give to any foreign looking pedestrian, as you stare into the unusual writings of the several signs that decorate some of the adjacent shops. You have absolutely no idea of what those strange symbols mean, perhaps they say something like "foreign people suck". Guess you'll have to learn Thai to find out next chapter.
The palm trees oscillate from side to side as if dancing to the singing of the tidal waves, the same ones that incessantly brush the shoreline's long hair... You suddenly feel like running, so you grab hold of your headphones, place each ear piece on the corresponding orifice and begin to quicken your pace.
You feel the air thrust itself against the freckles on your face, as if trying to rub them off the very skin they've been drawn in (but they're fastened strong enough). A dog barks and howls as you pass by, but you pay no attention (even though the creep has already got on all 4's in a menacing gesture). You run past and clear the sweat off your forehead.
There goes the looney man with a bad arm that often enough pretends he is being crushed by one of those boats lying on one side of the road... He waves at you, and so does the sea at the other end... Waving away you proceed.
You enter the woody opening opposite to the shoreline that invites you in with a sign that says "forest trial" (literally so) and so a trial it is; treading through that trail of course.
Your feet gather up heat while the trees stare at your shady silhouette, never again to be seen on that exact moment in time.
The song that encloses the illuminated the setting is by the Friendly Fires (strangely adhoc) and your mood is lifted up a single notch; the perfect measure for a power jog around the huge block.
The sun waves goodbye as well, peacefully drowning into the horizon and giving way to the darkness that adds that extra mellow feel-flavour to the wrappings of each and every single day.
And this was supposed to be just an average walkabout. It never fucking is...
Wake up, smell the coffee (or lack thereof), grab some appropriate pants and walk out into the gloomy corridor... slide down the same staircase that welcomes you every single day with a promise of nothingness and a smell of reddy orange to it.
Stride along the staff offices and wave a sleepy hi to the people behind the screens (kinda reminding you of that Orwell scene... but you swiftly blow the bubble-thought away).
Go out the door, careful not to lay a single step on the threshold (keeps up the spirits... literally speaking) and add an extra layer to your barefoot soles... solely stabilizing the lower part of your body-canvas that drags along the very bottom of your soul.
Get 'em flipflops on (those blue rubber bastards that bear tiny bits of your footy personality, they are in fact falling apart day by day).
Now you're out on the street, take a few more steps and turn 30 degrees to the right to give a subtle nod to the guard. R-E-S-P-E-C-T.
Say goodbye to the TEFL school building: three stories to an old novelistic compound of degrading grays and corinthian columnata (random architecture indeed, for a place like this).
Geckos slither from corner to corner and chase after bugs with an ethereal, inconspicuous air, melting away into the scenery as you move along. Mimesis... biology drives you nuts.
The ground has changed alright, sandy-wet little rocks erode into smaller and smaller pieces as you hear the crushing sounds that your shoes emit whenever applying a downward force upon them (do they complain whatsoever? fancy them having dreams of shrinking, I do sometimes).
You're humming that ol' song that's been superglued to your brain since last Saturday, but you don't mind. It's become the soundtrack of your life here in the land of the unforgiving (or was it unforgetting?) elephant people: Thailand.
"She wants to know, does everyone feel this way... when it rains in Asia..."
The ocean faces your left side as you turn to your right, freeing yourself from the spacially-psychological-sandwiching of various laundry shops, small restaurants and motorbike-renting spots on both sides of the narrow highway taking you to godknowswhere if you dare exploring more than what's legal (whatever that means).
You dodge several maniacal motorbike-drivers (these being 7-8 year olds or in better cases old women petting their dogs and not watching the road! casually). Your hear the doppler fading of the goose-like honking the locals tend to give to any foreign looking pedestrian, as you stare into the unusual writings of the several signs that decorate some of the adjacent shops. You have absolutely no idea of what those strange symbols mean, perhaps they say something like "foreign people suck". Guess you'll have to learn Thai to find out next chapter.
The palm trees oscillate from side to side as if dancing to the singing of the tidal waves, the same ones that incessantly brush the shoreline's long hair... You suddenly feel like running, so you grab hold of your headphones, place each ear piece on the corresponding orifice and begin to quicken your pace.
You feel the air thrust itself against the freckles on your face, as if trying to rub them off the very skin they've been drawn in (but they're fastened strong enough). A dog barks and howls as you pass by, but you pay no attention (even though the creep has already got on all 4's in a menacing gesture). You run past and clear the sweat off your forehead.
There goes the looney man with a bad arm that often enough pretends he is being crushed by one of those boats lying on one side of the road... He waves at you, and so does the sea at the other end... Waving away you proceed.
You enter the woody opening opposite to the shoreline that invites you in with a sign that says "forest trial" (literally so) and so a trial it is; treading through that trail of course.
Your feet gather up heat while the trees stare at your shady silhouette, never again to be seen on that exact moment in time.
The song that encloses the illuminated the setting is by the Friendly Fires (strangely adhoc) and your mood is lifted up a single notch; the perfect measure for a power jog around the huge block.
The sun waves goodbye as well, peacefully drowning into the horizon and giving way to the darkness that adds that extra mellow feel-flavour to the wrappings of each and every single day.
And this was supposed to be just an average walkabout. It never fucking is...
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