Cosas absurdas y extrañas suceden en los trenes en el norte de Europa.Se ve transitando en ellos exoticos fantasmas; se oye hablar lenguas duras y muy alejadas de los acentos solares en los que estoy acostumbrado escuchar las cosas.
Es casi el invierno, y a las 4 de la tarde en Bélgica hay ya una luz irreal,El paisaje es plano y monotono. El frio no solo esta en el exterior.tengo un sentimiento opresivo: algo esta arruinado sin remedio.
Se puede pasar una vida perdido,soñando despierto entre Brussel Noord y Antwerpen-Noord , pasar miles de años entre Schipol y Amsterdam centraal. Trenes modernos y silenciosos que atraviesan desolaciones crepusculares, semivacios, adormilados. Entre sueños escucho esas expresiones guturales y secas de todas esas duras lenguas europeas.
Comprendo perfectamente la desesperacion por salir de aqui, esa urgencia de escapatoria hacia donde sea, esa necesidad de salir de estos lentos atardeceres ferroviarios.
Yo tambien quiero salir de aqui, huir de la tarde,de este sol paliducho y languido,del frio que se mete hasta en los sueños...
No te alcanzaré. No llegaré nunca a Amsterdam. a ESE Amsterdam.
Este lugar es frio.Y esta vacio.No quedan mas sueños ni espejos.
Estamos atrapados en tristezas similares y cuando logremos escapar seremos libres en alucinaciones diferentes.Nunca mas nos encontraremos en ningun tren,en ninguna estacion.
Nuestro dolor brilla en la oscuridad.
viernes, noviembre 27, 2009
jueves, noviembre 05, 2009
November
November 2008.
I remember fast blurs of cold and rainy Belgium.I remember dark and gray Paris, I remember sunny and dusty Mexico.
I remember sadness, and being lost and hazy. I remember all this through a layer of Pain. I remember myself desperately writing letters that were torn apart as soon as they were finished. Remember waking up crying for no reason in the middle of the night, or daydreaming about non existence while revolutions lead by children happened around me.
I remember not sleeping AT ALL for days and days.
I remember being sick of food, of noise, of people smiling.I know I became sick of music because one of my guitars is broken.
I remember a quiet world, living eternally in the dusk.
Oh, I remember the darkness as a physical state.
I didn't want to die,but I simply had no more reason to live. I felt overwhelmed by my feelings,wich were incredibly intense and painful.At the same time I felt alienated from them, numbed,as if I was feeling all this through someone else's body,someone else's life.
I was completely out of phase. I was ALONE.
It was scary.
Someone told me I was heavily depressed but I'm not sure. I think I went to a shrink but it is not clear. I started taking pictures of random places through strange filters, hoping to capture some of that darkness around me. I suddenly felt very very angry.
And it was just the begining of THE FALL. I honestly don't know how I managed to handle the winter that followed.
A year after all this I am not sad anymore.But I dont want to think about all those months nor do I want to find myself in THAT PLACE again.I have to remember all this in order to prevent myself to go there again.
And now, here we are again, in november, I feel a little scared because of the memories of those times,but I like to think I can handle this. I am not the same, yet I haven't changed that much. I still don't like the stupid Fall, but I think there's still hope for me in this world so I EMBRACE it.
At least it's not LAST YEAR'S Fall.
I remember fast blurs of cold and rainy Belgium.I remember dark and gray Paris, I remember sunny and dusty Mexico.
I remember sadness, and being lost and hazy. I remember all this through a layer of Pain. I remember myself desperately writing letters that were torn apart as soon as they were finished. Remember waking up crying for no reason in the middle of the night, or daydreaming about non existence while revolutions lead by children happened around me.
I remember not sleeping AT ALL for days and days.
I remember being sick of food, of noise, of people smiling.I know I became sick of music because one of my guitars is broken.
I remember a quiet world, living eternally in the dusk.
Oh, I remember the darkness as a physical state.
I didn't want to die,but I simply had no more reason to live. I felt overwhelmed by my feelings,wich were incredibly intense and painful.At the same time I felt alienated from them, numbed,as if I was feeling all this through someone else's body,someone else's life.
I was completely out of phase. I was ALONE.
It was scary.
Someone told me I was heavily depressed but I'm not sure. I think I went to a shrink but it is not clear. I started taking pictures of random places through strange filters, hoping to capture some of that darkness around me. I suddenly felt very very angry.
And it was just the begining of THE FALL. I honestly don't know how I managed to handle the winter that followed.
A year after all this I am not sad anymore.But I dont want to think about all those months nor do I want to find myself in THAT PLACE again.I have to remember all this in order to prevent myself to go there again.
And now, here we are again, in november, I feel a little scared because of the memories of those times,but I like to think I can handle this. I am not the same, yet I haven't changed that much. I still don't like the stupid Fall, but I think there's still hope for me in this world so I EMBRACE it.
At least it's not LAST YEAR'S Fall.
lunes, noviembre 02, 2009
devoluciones...
El alivio en los fluidos.
Cuando se ha festejado hasta el limite, cuando se AMA la celebracion sin motivo ni final... cuando se es un REVENTADO, pues, se ve uno envuelto en una serie de acontecimientos que son como una obra de teatro atroz y ridicula,una suma de euforias y seguridades cinicas,cuya unica culminacion y alivio es la catarsis del vomito.
El vomito es el ultimo acto de una obra que a veces no se sabe donde o como empezo,desbarrancandonos siempre por las vias de lo ridiculo y lo profano,en el que nos convertimos en bufones y profetas.
Vomitando podremos quizas leer el futuro pero con toda seguridad el pasado.Vomitar sin pudor convertira casi con seguridad a los parranderos en HERMANOS, y sellara relaciones.
Uno de los actos mas romanticos que existen es sostener la cabeza de una hermosa mujer mientras vomita su borrachera.
Cuando se ha festejado hasta el limite, cuando se AMA la celebracion sin motivo ni final... cuando se es un REVENTADO, pues, se ve uno envuelto en una serie de acontecimientos que son como una obra de teatro atroz y ridicula,una suma de euforias y seguridades cinicas,cuya unica culminacion y alivio es la catarsis del vomito.
El vomito es el ultimo acto de una obra que a veces no se sabe donde o como empezo,desbarrancandonos siempre por las vias de lo ridiculo y lo profano,en el que nos convertimos en bufones y profetas.
Vomitando podremos quizas leer el futuro pero con toda seguridad el pasado.Vomitar sin pudor convertira casi con seguridad a los parranderos en HERMANOS, y sellara relaciones.
Uno de los actos mas romanticos que existen es sostener la cabeza de una hermosa mujer mientras vomita su borrachera.
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