There won't be enough pages of posts in this blog for me to tell you what I need to tell you, I could write everyday or write over my own writing, but then what?

The clock is ticking, you can forgive me for leaving, but not for coming back, cos I'm coming... I'm running.
I burn too much cigarettes holes in your imagination.
I see everything, for once, better than it was and as good as it could be.
I drag myself through revolution, I run for freedom.
I sit on the side with a coffee and write in my daybook and observe...
I run again
I remember the life that I didn't want to lose but lost and have to remember.
I write my name in blue pen and green oil stick, in orange crayon and in charcoal, I feel like I'm signing the contract of my life. I can't believe the honesty as it travels down my arm and comes out my pen.
I run... and as I do I wipe out all romance of the streets and charm sinners while they cockfight using their knees to pray for each other's sufocation...
I don't stop, I put down what might be left to say. I run. I don't expect anything more (just freelove and colombian coffee with national tobacco)
I want to reincarnate the ghostly spirit of jazz
I run
my blood is running like eternity outside of time as my words unsuccesfully head for the next decade.
I want to be philosophy rather than an artistic credo.
I keep running.
I want to take your clothes with the slowness of people who know how easy it is to be proven wrong.
but wait, are you willing to listen?

Stop. Es geht nicht.
....
Ich denke, das war also ein herrlicher Sonnesaufgang.

.:Wednesday, September 13, 2006:.

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At your service.

Just like Pim fortuyn said.



"But you're gonna have to serve somebody, yes indeed
You're gonna have to serve somebody,
Well, it may be the devil or it may be the Lord
But you're gonna have to serve somebody" (Bob Dylan)



I like to see people reunited, run to each other, i like the impatience, the stories that the mouth can't tell fast enough, the ears that aren't big enough, the eyes that can't take in all of the charge, i like the hugging, the bringing together, the end of missing someone.

I like to serve the wine I sell to everybody and the to get absinthe and martinis in return.

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.:Lo wrote this at: 2:29 PM:.
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.:Friday, September 01, 2006:.

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Mas Plato y menos Prozac

La autoayuda y un septiembre que me está matando 09:34.
Si busca a alguien con aspecto feliz, mire en las contraportadas de los libros de autoayuda y busque la inevitable foto del autor.
Relajados triunfadores, sonrientes y confiados. Exitosos.
Con la charla suficiente como para contarle como arreglar sus problemas sin conocerlo, con la filosofía de Amway mezclado con comerciales de Doctor Phil.
Bah! Me da escalofríos pensar que se venden decenas de miles de estos libros cada año.

No me quito de la cabeza la idea de que tal vez les va tan bien porque son los únicos que no compran sus libros.

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.:Lo wrote this at: 10:52 AM:.
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