We have this
say in Venezuela that goes as those who drink on Mondays, will drink the
whole week. So here I am, with my glass of wine to start my week and avoid
and procrastinate. Watching a children show and singing those songs now that I
know them by heart. Still daytime, I’m hungry.
Chuleta Ahumada, for dinner. We lived to fight another day, let’s
worry tomorrow. Wine is gone and we’re
having this warm sense that makes us think and talk like wisdom we’re sone sort
of totem we are holding by the hand just now.
Alcohol does that. It does that to at least. Now I feel like I have
words to offer, a metaphor to build with letters, letters taking the place of
bricks and make a division:
There you
are,
Writing me
Not knowing I’m
reading you
I’m taking
your words just for myself
And myself
only.
Because you
read my silence
And I
imagine your verb
I imagine
your verb in my flesh
Like Cerati,
Like my
morning desire
Desire it is
Desire it
will be
Here it is
There you
are…
Now it’s
time to take a shower. Words are coming
in. It is the mixed up between what I want and what I have, and how to keep
going with it since they are excluding each other. Today I laugh at the things I haven’t
achieved. The sun hasn’t left the day as
hope hasn’t left me despite everything. Caracas
of my heart. Oh Caracas! Twenty years ago I was 25, starting a new job with a
new spirit, all fallen into the music, into the Japanese anime, with a
cigarette and a beer, and having sex as much as I could stand. I met with my
limits, in my ways. Worries had then nothing to do with money, or time. It was
more about what I felt, how I felt, what I wanted then and the path I took for
it. It seems like another life now, like another person. I feel like I can’t
join both times, not even in my head. Not even for a narrative. How far have we
changed? How big has the government changed our lives? The present is something
different. All memories poured into a
phone app, into pictures that don’t store enough. I can’t find what I felt
there, not always, not today. I’m afraid
not anymore. The oblivion is full of
memories, someone said… The noises
of the duty are knocking on my day, my night; good night then! The tell-tale heart, by Soda, not Edgar
Allan Poe. Los vestigios de una hoguera,
again, this morning, why not! It’s my life’s soundtrack, anyway…
A cup of
coffee. Tuesday morning. Am I ready? I am. It’s just this way I am that makes
me nervous. Duty calls. See you later! Panic
attack, was it though? I don’t think so but it felt pretty close. I couldn’t
breath and I felt like I was dying. It lasted less than minute. The good thing
is that I know it when it comes, so I’m not actually afraid. I jut learned how
to live with it. Why didn’t she get the chance to prove herself? There must be
a way out where judgment is not only by first look. What if my potential isn’t
up front? Will I be condemned to rejection at every interview? To shine, we
need a chance. If only we could, and if only I weren’t this poor… Well. I can’t be lamenting all the time. You
already know it’s there, and I know it’s here. I’m going to try to move on with
it. Afternoon is here. Almost time to go. Everything worked out this morning. I
actually want some more. It's time. I’m hungry for it. Three Doors Down
in my ear. Good pictures to remember the day. Replication crisis, or how we tend to get lose
trying to prove a point. Has this text provided a solid statement? I don’t
think so, but we have to try, try, and keep trying. Despite the dissatisfaction. Despite being
unable to put smiles on their faces. I don’t want to keep feeling sorry for
myself. I need to think this is temporal. My hand hurts, my thumb hurts. I
don’t know. Perhaps my body has found
other parts to manifest, but I can help it. I can’t help the bear of the
disappointment. Over and over. Over and
over. Please, please!
No hay comentarios.:
Publicar un comentario
Gracias por tu visita y tu huella...