danny

if you cry in the forest, and no one listens to your cry, why don’t you stop whining and move on?

if you kiss in the forest, and nobody feels that kiss, are you really kissing?

… but i’m starting to miss you in a different way…

like an object that falls overboard, into the ocean, and slowly sinks down, fainted, blurring, fading away.

there was something intense before, something intense that i found wonderful. it was you, it was fierceful, it was merciless. it was there. now i’m trying to catch, grasp it upon a photo, some words and miles of lands and oceans. then it remains an image of it, a feeling of it, so deep i have to trust it, and myself, for believing it was, it is. cause it has becomed untangible to the point of automatism, of unreasonness, that i find myself looking for that thing you are, you were, there, and don’t know why.

nostalgy of a possible future?
could surely be…

…principessa!

when in doubt, please do not let yourself be lead or adviced by your mind. i call it your mind, but Jung wouldn’t completely agree with me. somehow you can find yourself be guided by strangers, your folks, some trend, a guru, a magazine, an old ex-girlfriend advice or experience (which is, of course and wilde, a fancy name for our mistakes).

when in doubt, listen to your senses. listen to your stomach, your knees, your mouth and shoulders. listen to your neck, to your veins (mostly those ones on your temples which, in spanish is sien, and comes from an old german sĭnn, to feel). listen to your blood and sweat. even listen to your heart.

at least you’ll know it is what you decided to do, from the innermost meanders of your body and soul.

and if that’s not enough for you, ask yourself a question: do i prefer to be right, or to be happy?

(hint: happy is the right answer)

Para que tú me oigas
mis palabras
se adelgazan a veces
como las huellas de las gaviotas en las playas.

Collar, cascabel ebrio
para tus manos suaves como las uvas.

Y las miro lejanas mis palabras.
Más que mias son tuyas.
Van trepando en mi viejo dolor como las yedras.

Ellas trepan así por las paredes húmedas.
Eres tú la culpable de este juego sangriento.
Ellas estan huyendo de mi guarida oscura.
Todo lo llenas tú, todo lo llenas.

Antes que tú poblaron la soledad que ocupas,
y estan acostumbradas más que tú a mi tristeza.

Ahora quiero que digan lo que quiero decirte
para que tú me oigas como quiero que me oigas.

El viento de la angustia aún las suele arrastrar.
Huracanes de sueños aún a veces las tumban.
Escuchas otras voces en mi voz dolorida.

Llanto de viejas bocas, sangre de viejas súplicas.
ámame, compañera. No me abandones. Sígueme.
Sígueme, compañera, en esa ola de angustia.

Pero se van tiñendo con tuor mis palabras.
Todo lo ocupas tú, todo lo ocupas.

Voy haciendo un collar infinito
para tus blancas manos, suaves como las uvas.

one day i’m going to die.

i was wondering who’ll remember me.
who’ll write nice things about me.
who’ll tell everybody how nice it was to hang around with me
or else.

and i hope they’re doing it right now.
remembering me.
writing nice things about me.
telling everybody how nice is to hang out with me
or else.

cause i won’t give a damn for people that will do so after i die.
but i’ll care much for those ones that loved me while alive.

after all, it is so easy to love a memory,
and so difficult to love a human being…

have you ever wonder what does it means when songs (and i mean almost all of them!) are exactly like somebody, one that you know, one that you miss, one that you wish you knew better? when they tell your story, or the story to come, or just a dream that you think should be part of the story? i feel i can almost stop thinking, and start quoting chunks of lyrics, and anyhow, anyway, i’ll be saying exactly what i intended to say….

if you have a clue, please write to me, and get me out of my misery…

well, i’m oficially back to venezuela. and i can tell you things look pretty lovely here, since caracas is the most beautiful city in the world. it actually has the best climate i’ve ever seen in any city around.

here it is a link to venezuela’s pics and another to caracas’ ones and then also caracas’ twos

back to my family, missing the rest of the world. half of them are on holidays, also from me.

from now on it’ll be dealing with some of my own stuff, and then wait to see what happens with my professional life. but now i’m oficially on vacations. so don’t expect to see much from me around.

we’ll catch up later, have a great one…

4:11 in the morning, still connected, smoking, writing. waiting.
listening to interpol, le mans, iron and wine, innocence mission, bob dylan, and the high fidelity soundtrack.
singing to stevie wonder. mostly everything from her.
waiting.
not tired at all. tomorrow i’m going to italian immigration (a.k.a. “la questura”, the police department)
big day, small day. they’ll tell me the same crap, i’ll remind them of the law, that i know almost by heart, oramai.
big day nonetheless.
a friend wished me luck, i wanted to tell her this isn’t about luck. this is karmic.
i’ll give my accelerated graphic card for an italian visa, and the hard drive for knowing how to play the guitar matrix-style (i mean with the floppy and the uploading)
i’ll then have to give my cd drive for a guitar to play.

starts sounding well, that thing of dissecting the computer and change each part for something else. at the end maybe i’ll get a very nice swell piece of some… real stuff.
and hours away of the computer.
hours away, bbbrrrrr!!! it makes me shiver just the mention of it.
computo ergo sum?
forse…
damn, my back hurts. i have to wake up at 7:30, in about tre ore, and it is going to be a fottuta lunga giornattaccia.
porcalaputtana,
ancora che aspetto qua.
beh, non c’e’
ormai meglio che me ne vada, no?
tanto non compare..
alla fine lo stesso, tanto online sara’ sempre online
e poi c’e’ l’ho sulla scrivania, non come vorrei, ma bella comunque.
perche bella e’!
d’altronde…
vo’ via
a domani,
stoca….

cazzi suoi…