land/horses

in my angry quest to get my angry fix of mood and emotion, i land on land/horses. i had never bothered to read the lyrics, now i wish i never did.

because now i also get the feeling i'm surrounded by horses-horses-horses-horses-horses-horses-horses-horses-horses-horses

and i may not use blow but i also want to go rimbaud.

i want to do a little writing but i am really tired, this week.it's only been one month, and i'm already tolled away, and i'm more impatient, edgy, volatile...

reckless.

i can't remember yesterday 7pm-1am. i just woke up past midnight and i was in bed. unfully dressed. i drank a lot of water. folded my laundry. went back to bed. in the meantime i got flashes of leaving gina's flat (where the guys frolicking in bed?). i walked home - i remember... nothing. not even how i crossed plaça catalunya. i ignore whether i took pelai or ramblas. i stopped in the supermarket to buy 4 x 5l-bottles of water, but this i remember a posteriori cos i've seen them in the kitchen today. my neighbors were in the elevator - freaking out probably. i must have looked horrible.

but this morning i feel fine, leaving aside a couple of uninvited bruises in my legs, and i have energy enough to leverage my stakes in discipline to sit down in bed, grab a glass, and try and get some writing done.

allons-y.

the fallen

so heath ledger is dead - he's been found dead, and though early reports mention pills & OD, no one's talking the big D.

but he had it. he had the big B maybe.

he's dead.

he last played the joker. the joker said, in alan moore's the killing joke: "all it takes is one bad day". indeed. all it takes is one fucking bad minute. i used to live by this creed, i'm used now to live oblivious to it, but it's the truth, the ugly truth, the truth that may not matter but weighs in, in the end. one bad second and the dark side creeps in and then you're found dead.

and who the hell is waltzing mathilda, now?

heath ledger, 28, named after romantic hero heathcliff, is dead.

like all the young dudes.

mood snatcher

i had given up on this WE's writing: i was supposed to help move stuff around in barcelona's eixample, from someplace to another place, this one with awesome views and one huge terrace. oh well. bear with me.

so i see my saturday's morning's liberated and since i am supposed to go pro on the writing thing again, i start drinking - ok this one goes down regardless - and i turn to mr. oberst - could happen anyways - and then it's his words that remind me of the week's epiphany:

i knew i'd been using since i was very young, searching in music and movies and art in general to get my high, the hit the right sentiment, i've been mood scoring all my life, it's in the nature, but listening to mr. oberst i have to ponder:

maybe i wasn't scoring
maybe i was just snatching
maybe there's no real feeling in me
and that's paranoid and yet
it could be.

i have a history on stealing or snapping into someone else's mental state. there's one particular period of strife and confussion i've later recognized as not of my own... that's paris. there's others. this is not the point.

it's the way mr. portrays things, it's my own poor language: writing to paint an image that's both telling fact and sentiment and it's already happened and shall befall again, it's particular and universal, the words hide nothing, but give no clues straight away... all with a rythm. and structure. i don't know how to explain: definitions are dull. and i have not the energy, the technique and the tools to create the image that would illustrate this.

there's more to it: it's the fact that i was 2000 when he was to 2000 and i was lifted when he was lifted and now i am so cassadaga. eg:

2000:
For a sunrise or a sunset.
You’re manic or you’re depressed.
Will you ever feel ok?

2002:
But you should never be embarrassed by
Your trouble with living
Cause it's the ones with the sorest throats
Laura, who have done the most singing

2005:
I just got myself to blame
Leave everything up to fate
When there's choices I could make
Yeah, my heart needs a polygraph
Always so eager to pack my bags
When I really wanna stay

2007:
Everything it must belong somewhere
I know that now, that's why I'm staying here

that's him. and it's me. and i am digressing.

it makes sense.

i fear i am in someone else's mental state.

and i must go and do some writing.

red flag

so here's I and my colloc aka the Other One/the_dark_side/the:intense:side discussing the whole writing thing. we've been sitting for an hour trying to type and we've managed a bit before we've strayed and we've started checking out mr jack kerouac and stuff in you!tube, there's something amazing in hearing His voice. anyways we've written some lines and corrected the structure in chapter 1 and chapeter last and now the Book looks more rounded and symmetric and circular and it makes me feel rather good but then the Other One tells Me:

the Book has outgrown Us.

and crap, It's right.

I'm somewhat darker and unforgiving, It's lighter and hopeful, and we both concluded that the writing has changed us both more than we've achieved with the words laid out. ergo, the Book's stronger and smarter than Us.

so we've come here to rant:
da-da-da.

but this is some rigurous ranting. that's why we publish, to at least write something fine:
and hell
da-da-da,
that's all we can think of.

the rest is the Book.

we'll try again.

daniel daniel daniel

al final siempre vuelvo a las mismas neuras de siempre:
kerouac
oberst
michael corleone
arthur
ginsberg
la carretera
day-lewis

en hommage anticipado para there will be blood, re-introducing daniel day-lewis

ps me encanta la página de artes del guardian!

sparring

so here i is trying to get back on track and type a little but i can't seem to pull it through so what the hell i turn to my sparring (i.e. this blog). useful thing, wishful thinking, whichever, but at least i'm in front of the computer and
yes
typing.

god i am tired and hangover. this week's been long and exhausting and i've played soccer twice and i've wii'ed too much and my drinking's still as heavy as during x-mas. not as, but almost.

last night was my friend's 30 b-day party. first 78 er to turn. saw a lot of people i hadn't seen in a long long time and you know what i thought:
nadie sabe lo que le va a pasar a nadie
excepto que todos seguirán desamparados y haciéndose viejos

so here i is listening to tom traubert's blues and attempting at mood scoring, doesn't seem to work. maybe i should read selby's intro again...

here i is.

i'll just keep on trying.
let us not give up.
hey montana...

laicismo radical

estupendo artículo de Juan Luis Cebrián en El País del 09 de enero:

Sabemos que el cardenal Rouco Varela no es partidario del divorcio y así nos lo dio a conocer a finales del año pasado, con gran aparato propagandístico y mediático, rodeado de sus pares y jaleado por sus fieles. Pero sabemos también que la excepción confirma la regla y que hubo un divorcio concreto que sin duda no le debió sentar tan mal. Me refiero al de la princesa Letizia (con z de Zapatero), gracias al cual pudo el clérigo oficiar con la pompa debida los esponsales del heredero de la Corona en una escena digna del mejor Anouilh, en la que el honor de dios y el del rey parecieron, por un momento, evidenciarse absolutamente unidos.

continua...

allen ginsberg's dream (for inspiration, reassurance, and a smile)

Doctor, I don't think you're going to find this very healthy and clear, but I really would like to stop working forever--never work again, never do anything like the kind of work I'm doing now--and do nothing but write poetry and have leisure to spend the day outdoors and go to museums and see friends. And I'd like to keep living with someone -- maybe even a man -- and explore relationships that way. And cultivate my perceptions, cultivate the visionary thing in me. Just a literary and quiet city-hermit existence. Then he said "Well, why don't you?" I asked him what the American Psychoanalytic Association would say about that, and he said . . . if that is what you really feel would please you, what in the world is stopping you from doing it?

test test

blah blah