stupid computer of mine.... le da con dañarse en el momento que más necesito un outlet... Pero bueno, no he abandonado mis responsabilidades con este website. Tengo posts en mis drafts pero no tengo ganas de postear refritos asi de la nada... Así que, los dejo con el clichoso Feliz Año Nuevo, y espero que no tengan trastornos mentales.
Neverending battle suena tan poetico, como para un cuento... espérenlo... quizás
(((((BIBLIOTECA OCTAGONAL)))))
(((Libros-Películas-Paréntesis)))
Saturday, December 30, 2006
Saturday, December 23, 2006
On picky men, on survival from disorientation, on retarded jeans, on economic recess, and on sleepy contradictions.
Men are as picky/choosy with their clothes as women are. Evidence of this is the fact that you see them in Zara, or in Guess, or in Banana Republic, or (I forget the other expensive/chic store in Plaza) buying an sorting clothes; I saw them today, as I shopped for Christmas. It was interesting. (And the fact that I finally went inside Zara and Guess made it a little bit more shocking).
Talking about Guess, and Plaza las Américas (largest mall in the Caribbean for those puertorricanly-impared)... I got lost... well, not lost, but disoriented... at the hall between JC Penny, and Macy's, somehow I thought I was heading east (towards the main entrance), but I was actually going south (towards Macy's). I don't know how it happened, I went into those stores that I never go, just to look around, and when I finally realize where I was, the map in my head straightened... it made me dizzy, but I survived.
Talking about that hall.... There is a store there called: Lucky Brand Jeans, goshdangit, a pair of jeans in there cost 138 frigging dollars!!! Can you believe it? Would you pay that much for them? Hell no. Talk about uberduper recontrarchi supercalifragilistupidly retarded. I'd rather buy 4 at $20 a piece, in different colors and styles for every day off of the week!
Talking about expensive shit... Puerto Rico is in a slight (although many would argue that adjective) economic recession, but people still walk around the mall with three to five bags full of stuff.
Talking about people without money... I was one of those walking around with two or three bags. Now I'm sleepy, goodbye. Or should I play with my new Nintengo Wii? Nah, I must sleep, I have huuuge ojeras.
Talking about Guess, and Plaza las Américas (largest mall in the Caribbean for those puertorricanly-impared)... I got lost... well, not lost, but disoriented... at the hall between JC Penny, and Macy's, somehow I thought I was heading east (towards the main entrance), but I was actually going south (towards Macy's). I don't know how it happened, I went into those stores that I never go, just to look around, and when I finally realize where I was, the map in my head straightened... it made me dizzy, but I survived.
Talking about that hall.... There is a store there called: Lucky Brand Jeans, goshdangit, a pair of jeans in there cost 138 frigging dollars!!! Can you believe it? Would you pay that much for them? Hell no. Talk about uberduper recontrarchi supercalifragilistupidly retarded. I'd rather buy 4 at $20 a piece, in different colors and styles for every day off of the week!
Talking about expensive shit... Puerto Rico is in a slight (although many would argue that adjective) economic recession, but people still walk around the mall with three to five bags full of stuff.
Talking about people without money... I was one of those walking around with two or three bags. Now I'm sleepy, goodbye. Or should I play with my new Nintengo Wii? Nah, I must sleep, I have huuuge ojeras.
Wednesday, December 20, 2006
Holiday Warmth o Ella está feliz
Holiday Warmth o Ella está feliz
por: Joel Feliciano
Sube las escaleras hacia su apartamento. Camina por el pasillo de su piso alumbrado por una luz tenue, que la baña de tonos sepia, y hace que sus movimientos sean más lentos. Imagina lo que hará esa noche. Se imagina mirar el techo mientras el sol termina de ahogarse en el horizonte. Un leve tintineo de dos únicas llaves se escucha. Abre las dos cerraduras de su puerta, la segunda truena como el choque de las bolas de billar a donde estuvo esa tarde; libre de tareas universitarias, se había pasado el día paseando por su ciudad de frías nieblas, su ciudad de luces entumecidas por nubes, de aires memorables de nostalgia y recuerdos enternecedores. Entra en su apartamento. Por la ventana al final del pasillo de entrada entra el final del día: una claridad vaga que la divierte, que desenfoca las sombras y que une las vidas. Deja caer las llaves en el counter de la cocina, pues no tiene una mesa de comedor. Suelta su bulto en otra esquina. Se quita los zapatos. Camina en medias. Siente el frío del suelo de madera. Siente la mullida suavidad de la alfombra del cuarto. Enciende el radio que está en el piso. La estación fue predestinada desde ayer: un Jazz absorbente y grueso. El saxofón embadurna los rincones de una tristeza hermosa, de una alegría de olas de mar. El piano timbra y ausculta los misteriosos rincones con curiosidad, y suena en el trasfondo de una fotografía en blanco y negro. Ella se trepa en la cama, su único mueble. Abre la ventana que hay en la cabezera y el frío entra. Enciende la calefacción, que está al alcanze de su mano, para no congelarse. Es una chica complicada. Le gusta el frío natural, pero no le gusta congelarse. Tiene sentido. Y para que ese calor se le quede dentro enciende un cigarrillo. Y mira la chispa ardiente en la punta. Y exhala hacia la ventana, enrolladas sus piernas entre sus brazos, sobre la almohada. El humo se escapa por la ventana, pero queda el amargo olor en la habitación. A ella no le importa y mira el cielo gris, mira la niebla que se confunde con el humo. Apuñala el cigarrillo en el cenizero, donde descansan en paz otros cuántos. Se acuesta en la cama, y presiente los cambios de la luz, que se desvela como un telón de terciopelo en el teatro; aparecen pliegues tras los objetos, tras los libros. Recuerda entonces el ramito de pino que arrancó de algún árbol de navidad que vendían en la calle de camino... Lo saca del bolsillo de su camisa. Lo huele: un agridulce que la sumerge en memorias intocables. No puede comprarse uno. Entonces escucha la voz solemne, honda, y levemente rugosa de un hombre en la radio. Imagina a un hombre negro, con la sencillez de una sonrisa sumamente blanca. Cierra los ojos escuchando la siguiente tonada, y se imagina la noche, se piensa abrazada por otro cuerpo en aquella cama, entre las sábanas tibias por la piel. Cuando abre los ojos ya la ciudad ha ennegrecido, las cornisas de los edificios cercanos relumbran con las girnaldas navideñas. Respira profundo, su pecho se yergue... Puede escuchar los rastros del retintinar de un villancico a lo lejos. Entonces tocan a su puerta. Se levanta, saca de la nevera la botella de coquito que su amigo le ensenó a preparar; la única receta que se ha dignado a hacer, solamente para aquella ocasión; y pone la botella en el counter, el contenido espeso y cremoso la excita. Se sirve en uno de sus tres vasos de cristal, la crema se desliza y ella se deja dominar por el amigable olor de la leche condenzada mezclada con el hambriento vapor del ron... Sonríe. Y camina hacia la puerta. Abre y toma de la mano a aquella otra sombra.
por: Joel Feliciano
Sube las escaleras hacia su apartamento. Camina por el pasillo de su piso alumbrado por una luz tenue, que la baña de tonos sepia, y hace que sus movimientos sean más lentos. Imagina lo que hará esa noche. Se imagina mirar el techo mientras el sol termina de ahogarse en el horizonte. Un leve tintineo de dos únicas llaves se escucha. Abre las dos cerraduras de su puerta, la segunda truena como el choque de las bolas de billar a donde estuvo esa tarde; libre de tareas universitarias, se había pasado el día paseando por su ciudad de frías nieblas, su ciudad de luces entumecidas por nubes, de aires memorables de nostalgia y recuerdos enternecedores. Entra en su apartamento. Por la ventana al final del pasillo de entrada entra el final del día: una claridad vaga que la divierte, que desenfoca las sombras y que une las vidas. Deja caer las llaves en el counter de la cocina, pues no tiene una mesa de comedor. Suelta su bulto en otra esquina. Se quita los zapatos. Camina en medias. Siente el frío del suelo de madera. Siente la mullida suavidad de la alfombra del cuarto. Enciende el radio que está en el piso. La estación fue predestinada desde ayer: un Jazz absorbente y grueso. El saxofón embadurna los rincones de una tristeza hermosa, de una alegría de olas de mar. El piano timbra y ausculta los misteriosos rincones con curiosidad, y suena en el trasfondo de una fotografía en blanco y negro. Ella se trepa en la cama, su único mueble. Abre la ventana que hay en la cabezera y el frío entra. Enciende la calefacción, que está al alcanze de su mano, para no congelarse. Es una chica complicada. Le gusta el frío natural, pero no le gusta congelarse. Tiene sentido. Y para que ese calor se le quede dentro enciende un cigarrillo. Y mira la chispa ardiente en la punta. Y exhala hacia la ventana, enrolladas sus piernas entre sus brazos, sobre la almohada. El humo se escapa por la ventana, pero queda el amargo olor en la habitación. A ella no le importa y mira el cielo gris, mira la niebla que se confunde con el humo. Apuñala el cigarrillo en el cenizero, donde descansan en paz otros cuántos. Se acuesta en la cama, y presiente los cambios de la luz, que se desvela como un telón de terciopelo en el teatro; aparecen pliegues tras los objetos, tras los libros. Recuerda entonces el ramito de pino que arrancó de algún árbol de navidad que vendían en la calle de camino... Lo saca del bolsillo de su camisa. Lo huele: un agridulce que la sumerge en memorias intocables. No puede comprarse uno. Entonces escucha la voz solemne, honda, y levemente rugosa de un hombre en la radio. Imagina a un hombre negro, con la sencillez de una sonrisa sumamente blanca. Cierra los ojos escuchando la siguiente tonada, y se imagina la noche, se piensa abrazada por otro cuerpo en aquella cama, entre las sábanas tibias por la piel. Cuando abre los ojos ya la ciudad ha ennegrecido, las cornisas de los edificios cercanos relumbran con las girnaldas navideñas. Respira profundo, su pecho se yergue... Puede escuchar los rastros del retintinar de un villancico a lo lejos. Entonces tocan a su puerta. Se levanta, saca de la nevera la botella de coquito que su amigo le ensenó a preparar; la única receta que se ha dignado a hacer, solamente para aquella ocasión; y pone la botella en el counter, el contenido espeso y cremoso la excita. Se sirve en uno de sus tres vasos de cristal, la crema se desliza y ella se deja dominar por el amigable olor de la leche condenzada mezclada con el hambriento vapor del ron... Sonríe. Y camina hacia la puerta. Abre y toma de la mano a aquella otra sombra.
Dedicado a Alexandra, quien vive en la gris ciudad de San Francisco.
Tuesday, December 19, 2006
Today Last Year, no fear
There are dates that you never forget. Today is 19th of December. The 19th is part of a sequential-trilogy of days. I'll explain. The 17, 18 and 19 of December of last year 2005, were the turning point of a very awesome Christmas.
Two days ago, I started to write this, and here goes:
On December 17th, 2005, a night much like this one, at this same exact hour/time: 1:00 AM (of the 18th actually), I was on my way to the Greyhound Bus Station in Downtown Las Vegas. I was going to make a 15-16 hour bus ride to San Francisco. It was one of the best experiences I've had.
The bus ride was pretty much uneventful, but the days before the ride, and the days after...!!! Gosh... I get teary-eyed.
I left Las Vegas at 1:45 sharp. I was driven to the station by Joel (the other one). On the bus I called Alexandra, who was the one I was meeting in SanFran, and we talked for like an hour or more, or until the people on the bus were bothered by me speaking. The road was dark, invisibly barren. We would stop at these small little outposts in the middle of the dark nowhere. And we'd move on to the road. I fell asleep, and when I woke up, the day was rising. Early morning in the plains of California, after a while buildings and urban areas started to appear on the roadsides, and soon the metropolis of Los Angeles was evident. There the bus stopped for a layover (at a very unappealing station). Then, the landscape of lonely hills returned. The bus stopped at the most solitary Burger King I've ever seen, and it was cloudy, the sky was super grey, it was a little rainy, and it was uber cold. I loved it.
But I want to tell you about the moment going to the station in Vegas, and the moment getting out of the station in SanFran.
I had been camping at Joel's appartment (the other Joel), it was the last day I was going to be in Las Vegas. We were going to eat. Joel's girlfriend had to work. I packed up my things, I put them in the back of the car. I was leaving. We had dinner at the Hard Rock Café, and then we had like four hours to kill before 1:45 AM. I don't remember exactly what we did, I think we walked around the casinos and tried to get to a show (cirque du soleil or a comedy show I'm not sure) but it was sold out. But, what I do remember is the drive to the station. So much silence. It reminded me of the taxi ride, in Orlando, from the appartment in Disney to the airport. The same quietness, the lights of the street swooping by around the car. And, just like that, I was at the station, I grabbed my bags and said goodbye. It reminded me of so many movies when goodbye scenes are so long. But this, was very casual, as if that was a natural thing, as if tomorrow I'd be there again. "See you soon", I said. "Merry Christmas", he said. "You too", I said. "Thanks for visiting", he said. "No, thank you". And just like that, I crossed the glass doors, bought my ticket and he was off and I was off. 1:00 AM that was, on the 17-18.
Then, at 6:30 PM I arrived in San Francisco, it was dark already. And the station was dirty, dark, and wet. I asked a clerk: "What's the address of this place", she said really loud(if i recall correctly): "This is Mission and 2nd Street". And in my mind I was: "Dang, I need to go to 9th street or Market street". But, since the lady wasn't really nice I just went towards where everybody went, it was a bus stop, a big one, and I had to get on one to get to Market. I called Alexandra:
"What do I do."
"Where are you?"
"Second and Mission"
"Oh my God, your so far! I'm on 17th street."
"Dont you live on 9th?"
"I was with a friend".
"Ok, so what do I do?".
"Find Market street and the Bart".
"What the fuck is the Bart".
"The subway, just ask for the Bart".
And so, I was off, with my bags, running around dark streets. I was fine tho, because I had studied Google Earth, and new the order of the streets (I'm geeky like that). Then, I asked for the Bart and people told me the directions. I went underground. I emmerged at the appointed station in 16th Street/Mission Street. It was darker, wetter, and a little getto. I was in survival mode, and I saw heaven: a Walgreens! Five minutes later Alexandra arrives and we embrace right in front of the cashier lady, who had to wait for us a while before I could pay. It was already like 8:00 PM on the 18th. On the 19th I woke up to a new city.
2005 was the year of no fear. On January 6th, 2005, Alexandra was in Puerto Rico, she said: "no fear, Joel", because I was leaving to Orlando, "why fear, Joel? Remember: no fear". I followed I guess.
No fear makes u do things... And this is/was just a pinch of those things.
What will happen in 2007?
Two days ago, I started to write this, and here goes:
On December 17th, 2005, a night much like this one, at this same exact hour/time: 1:00 AM (of the 18th actually), I was on my way to the Greyhound Bus Station in Downtown Las Vegas. I was going to make a 15-16 hour bus ride to San Francisco. It was one of the best experiences I've had.
The bus ride was pretty much uneventful, but the days before the ride, and the days after...!!! Gosh... I get teary-eyed.
I left Las Vegas at 1:45 sharp. I was driven to the station by Joel (the other one). On the bus I called Alexandra, who was the one I was meeting in SanFran, and we talked for like an hour or more, or until the people on the bus were bothered by me speaking. The road was dark, invisibly barren. We would stop at these small little outposts in the middle of the dark nowhere. And we'd move on to the road. I fell asleep, and when I woke up, the day was rising. Early morning in the plains of California, after a while buildings and urban areas started to appear on the roadsides, and soon the metropolis of Los Angeles was evident. There the bus stopped for a layover (at a very unappealing station). Then, the landscape of lonely hills returned. The bus stopped at the most solitary Burger King I've ever seen, and it was cloudy, the sky was super grey, it was a little rainy, and it was uber cold. I loved it.
But I want to tell you about the moment going to the station in Vegas, and the moment getting out of the station in SanFran.
I had been camping at Joel's appartment (the other Joel), it was the last day I was going to be in Las Vegas. We were going to eat. Joel's girlfriend had to work. I packed up my things, I put them in the back of the car. I was leaving. We had dinner at the Hard Rock Café, and then we had like four hours to kill before 1:45 AM. I don't remember exactly what we did, I think we walked around the casinos and tried to get to a show (cirque du soleil or a comedy show I'm not sure) but it was sold out. But, what I do remember is the drive to the station. So much silence. It reminded me of the taxi ride, in Orlando, from the appartment in Disney to the airport. The same quietness, the lights of the street swooping by around the car. And, just like that, I was at the station, I grabbed my bags and said goodbye. It reminded me of so many movies when goodbye scenes are so long. But this, was very casual, as if that was a natural thing, as if tomorrow I'd be there again. "See you soon", I said. "Merry Christmas", he said. "You too", I said. "Thanks for visiting", he said. "No, thank you". And just like that, I crossed the glass doors, bought my ticket and he was off and I was off. 1:00 AM that was, on the 17-18.
Then, at 6:30 PM I arrived in San Francisco, it was dark already. And the station was dirty, dark, and wet. I asked a clerk: "What's the address of this place", she said really loud(if i recall correctly): "This is Mission and 2nd Street". And in my mind I was: "Dang, I need to go to 9th street or Market street". But, since the lady wasn't really nice I just went towards where everybody went, it was a bus stop, a big one, and I had to get on one to get to Market. I called Alexandra:
"What do I do."
"Where are you?"
"Second and Mission"
"Oh my God, your so far! I'm on 17th street."
"Dont you live on 9th?"
"I was with a friend".
"Ok, so what do I do?".
"Find Market street and the Bart".
"What the fuck is the Bart".
"The subway, just ask for the Bart".
And so, I was off, with my bags, running around dark streets. I was fine tho, because I had studied Google Earth, and new the order of the streets (I'm geeky like that). Then, I asked for the Bart and people told me the directions. I went underground. I emmerged at the appointed station in 16th Street/Mission Street. It was darker, wetter, and a little getto. I was in survival mode, and I saw heaven: a Walgreens! Five minutes later Alexandra arrives and we embrace right in front of the cashier lady, who had to wait for us a while before I could pay. It was already like 8:00 PM on the 18th. On the 19th I woke up to a new city.
2005 was the year of no fear. On January 6th, 2005, Alexandra was in Puerto Rico, she said: "no fear, Joel", because I was leaving to Orlando, "why fear, Joel? Remember: no fear". I followed I guess.
No fear makes u do things... And this is/was just a pinch of those things.
What will happen in 2007?
Monday, December 18, 2006
Sunday, December 17, 2006
The Mystery of the Eyes on the Ceiling
Part II: The Sighting
And to unfold the mystery, here is proof of those fatal eyes on the ceiling. They're creepy!
SÚPER CREEPY (with an accent on SÚPER).
To be continued...
SÚPER CREEPY (with an accent on SÚPER).
To be continued...
Friday, December 15, 2006
The Mystery of the Eyes on the Ceiling
Part I: The Horror
I've been sick with sinusitis since Sunday. This makes me have weird dreams that wake me up in the night every two hours. But, on Monday, I am dreaming some odd thing (which I can't remember) and the alarm clock goes off. As I open my eyes, my vision blurry, my mind still in a daze... I see two hugeamongous, emerald green eyes on the ceiling of my room looking at me. You can imagine the start/jump I suffered. My heart raced three thounsand miles in three seconds, my blood heated up in less than one... I didn't scream because I couldn't (I was just waking up, I have no power for anything). Qué pendejo soy, ah.
Before leaving this post, I'll say that the eyes watch me every morning. Pretty peepy. Pretty voyeuristic. Pretty creepy.
I have pictures to prove this. But I'll post them tomorrow, I want to get a CLEAR shot, and not some fuzzy, unfocused shit that would be compared to bigfoot sightings.
Before leaving this post, I'll say that the eyes watch me every morning. Pretty peepy. Pretty voyeuristic. Pretty creepy.
I have pictures to prove this. But I'll post them tomorrow, I want to get a CLEAR shot, and not some fuzzy, unfocused shit that would be compared to bigfoot sightings.
Wednesday, December 13, 2006
On why I write in English
I have had this "title" on the blogger drafts for some time now, (you can see in this screenshot that I have had it as a draft since May 24, 2006; click for larger view).
It seems that there are many people intrigued by this infatuation of mine... Well, I guess I have felt your pressure since May of this year. So, here it is.
I was recently asked: "why do you write in English?" I, instead of giving a straight answer, would only take my attention towards something else (pichando eh), and never answered. Two reasons: 1. I didn't answer because indeed my attention was diverted, and I get distracted easily. 2. I didn't really want to answer. But now, I do, and I do it not only for those persons who have asked me, I also do it for those who haven't, and also for me too, to have it black and white.
I have debated on this subject, again since May, probably even before that. To understand this, I'd have to give some backstory. I know backstory (in storytelling) can be tedious, monotonous an boring, but I'll try not to. Well, it began when I was in school, and WANTED to learn English. I was a "cable-less" child until I was in like 9th grade. Cable is not a household necessity, I know, although, I also know that I wouldn't live without it, even if the TV is turned off for the entire day. Anyway, back to backstory, I learned English watching Sesame Street, and the sort of "muppet" shows that PBS, (el canal seis) would air.
Ok, that has nothing to do with why I write in English, but I'm getting there. So, then, I finally learned. Then I started University and found all these people that, even when they spoke perfect Spanish, they'd throw lines in English. Why? I asked. No apparent reason. It was probably "cool". And well, I, even when I despised that kind of behavior (I still think that the Spanglish spoken by Newyoricans/puertoricans/latins has a horrible accent) I became one of them too. And, because EVERYTHING I watched on TV was in English, then it became a natural thing.
Then, in 2004 I joined a Yahoo group with them friends from the University. And language started slowly shifting from Spanish to English as we moved out of Puerto Rico. There are still some things in Spanish there, proof of our love of the language, though, for the sake of all who don't know it, we write/wrote in English. "So?", you may ask, "let them figure it out for themselves..., tell them to buy a dictionary". That was a very good point, still is. But, we figured, that the people who knew Spanish, also knew English, whereas the English-knowers didn't know Spanish. And so, being the Spanish as giving as we are, and being the higher language there, then we let ourselves write in English so we would be understood by the majority of the people.
Then, I went to Orlando. And I came back. And started this blog out of sadness, because I had a great time over there. And well, this blog was/is intended for them to read. And the rule applied also: "I knew more people who spoke Spanish-English, and English-only, than Spanish-only". So, make the math, if I have
10 friends Spanish/English + 10 Englishonly + 5 Spanishonly (1 English blog) = 20 people who will possibly read and write.
Whereas if I have:
10 friends Spanish/English + 10 Englishonley + 5 Spanishonly (1 Spanish blog) = 15 people who will possibly read and write.
So, 20 vs 15... you figure it out...
And it is/was true. Many of the people I know speak both. This seemed like such a childish explanation, such a childish reason, but that is it. Childish stuff is what gets us in trouble (random thought) (I'm not in trouble) (look at George Bush, he's such a baby, or Roselló... Ohmygosh, out of context, out of subject... back, back to languages please).
BUT here comes the big ass BUT.
That math problem I just made up is outdated. Statisctics are different now... It seems that I get more hits from Spanish posts than English.... And since I am a child born out the capitalistic world, I will go with what the statistics say.
BUT, not only because of that... no no no. There's also another reason as to why I will be switching/leaning towards the Spanish now: because it's just so much easier for me, and also I'll have a more sophisticated and spontaneous beat in the writing, which I think I have lost a little; also I miss the one-sound-only letters, I miss the hardcore control of syllables, the ommited subjects, the syntax, and I miss the very wisely-used-very-ellusive accents (which actually have a purpose, as opposed to most of the French accents...).
I don't know if this long ass answer answers your questions. Writing in English is more of a habit than it is a choice. (I eat all the food I have on my plate out of habit, more than out of hunger or whatever) (that's another post) (and of course, there are exceptions to that rule) (that brings me to a question: am I fat?) (oh well, another day it'll have to be). So yes, I write in English out of habit, but that's only for this non-fictional blog areas, when I do fiction I have to do it in Spanish, its just such a richer language (no offense to English-speakers)...
Well, that's it. If I have offended somebody then go seat on a rusty nail, turn on it three times, then come back and ask. If I have offended somebody please call 1-800-hot-nail or find us on the net at: www.hotnail.edu/offenses.
Ok. Now, back to bed, because I have one of those illnesses that cannot be translated into English, nor be understood in most other Spanish-speaking countries, one of those illnesses vernacularly, authochthonously, puertorricanly named: La monga. Qué mierda es estar enfermo. (watch out for those adverbs).
It seems that there are many people intrigued by this infatuation of mine... Well, I guess I have felt your pressure since May of this year. So, here it is.I was recently asked: "why do you write in English?" I, instead of giving a straight answer, would only take my attention towards something else (pichando eh), and never answered. Two reasons: 1. I didn't answer because indeed my attention was diverted, and I get distracted easily. 2. I didn't really want to answer. But now, I do, and I do it not only for those persons who have asked me, I also do it for those who haven't, and also for me too, to have it black and white.
I have debated on this subject, again since May, probably even before that. To understand this, I'd have to give some backstory. I know backstory (in storytelling) can be tedious, monotonous an boring, but I'll try not to. Well, it began when I was in school, and WANTED to learn English. I was a "cable-less" child until I was in like 9th grade. Cable is not a household necessity, I know, although, I also know that I wouldn't live without it, even if the TV is turned off for the entire day. Anyway, back to backstory, I learned English watching Sesame Street, and the sort of "muppet" shows that PBS, (el canal seis) would air.
Ok, that has nothing to do with why I write in English, but I'm getting there. So, then, I finally learned. Then I started University and found all these people that, even when they spoke perfect Spanish, they'd throw lines in English. Why? I asked. No apparent reason. It was probably "cool". And well, I, even when I despised that kind of behavior (I still think that the Spanglish spoken by Newyoricans/puertoricans/latins has a horrible accent) I became one of them too. And, because EVERYTHING I watched on TV was in English, then it became a natural thing.
Then, in 2004 I joined a Yahoo group with them friends from the University. And language started slowly shifting from Spanish to English as we moved out of Puerto Rico. There are still some things in Spanish there, proof of our love of the language, though, for the sake of all who don't know it, we write/wrote in English. "So?", you may ask, "let them figure it out for themselves..., tell them to buy a dictionary". That was a very good point, still is. But, we figured, that the people who knew Spanish, also knew English, whereas the English-knowers didn't know Spanish. And so, being the Spanish as giving as we are, and being the higher language there, then we let ourselves write in English so we would be understood by the majority of the people.
Then, I went to Orlando. And I came back. And started this blog out of sadness, because I had a great time over there. And well, this blog was/is intended for them to read. And the rule applied also: "I knew more people who spoke Spanish-English, and English-only, than Spanish-only". So, make the math, if I have
10 friends Spanish/English + 10 Englishonly + 5 Spanishonly (1 English blog) = 20 people who will possibly read and write.
Whereas if I have:
10 friends Spanish/English + 10 Englishonley + 5 Spanishonly (1 Spanish blog) = 15 people who will possibly read and write.
So, 20 vs 15... you figure it out...
And it is/was true. Many of the people I know speak both. This seemed like such a childish explanation, such a childish reason, but that is it. Childish stuff is what gets us in trouble (random thought) (I'm not in trouble) (look at George Bush, he's such a baby, or Roselló... Ohmygosh, out of context, out of subject... back, back to languages please).
BUT here comes the big ass BUT.
That math problem I just made up is outdated. Statisctics are different now... It seems that I get more hits from Spanish posts than English.... And since I am a child born out the capitalistic world, I will go with what the statistics say.
BUT, not only because of that... no no no. There's also another reason as to why I will be switching/leaning towards the Spanish now: because it's just so much easier for me, and also I'll have a more sophisticated and spontaneous beat in the writing, which I think I have lost a little; also I miss the one-sound-only letters, I miss the hardcore control of syllables, the ommited subjects, the syntax, and I miss the very wisely-used-very-ellusive accents (which actually have a purpose, as opposed to most of the French accents...).
I don't know if this long ass answer answers your questions. Writing in English is more of a habit than it is a choice. (I eat all the food I have on my plate out of habit, more than out of hunger or whatever) (that's another post) (and of course, there are exceptions to that rule) (that brings me to a question: am I fat?) (oh well, another day it'll have to be). So yes, I write in English out of habit, but that's only for this non-fictional blog areas, when I do fiction I have to do it in Spanish, its just such a richer language (no offense to English-speakers)...
Well, that's it. If I have offended somebody then go seat on a rusty nail, turn on it three times, then come back and ask. If I have offended somebody please call 1-800-hot-nail or find us on the net at: www.hotnail.edu/offenses.
Ok. Now, back to bed, because I have one of those illnesses that cannot be translated into English, nor be understood in most other Spanish-speaking countries, one of those illnesses vernacularly, authochthonously, puertorricanly named: La monga. Qué mierda es estar enfermo. (watch out for those adverbs).
Saturday, December 09, 2006
El dinosaurio
El dinosaurio
por: Augusto Monterroso
Cuando despertó, el dinosaurio todavía estaba allí.
Fin
A la verdad que parece un dinosaurio sí, caramba.
por: Augusto Monterroso
Cuando despertó, el dinosaurio todavía estaba allí.
Fin
A la verdad que parece un dinosaurio sí, caramba.
Friday, December 08, 2006
Tuesday, December 05, 2006
Sunday, December 03, 2006
Crazy/Beautiful and other crazynesses
Watch this picture. (click for larger view).
Do you see the awesomeness of it? Do you see the piercings? I myself don't like piercings, but in that picture they look sooo great!
Now, watch this other crazyness.
Do you see what I see? (that reminds me of a Christmas song). If what you see is a carving of someone's SKIN!!, then you're right! My gosh, I never thought I would see voluntary "skin carvings", it just baffles my mind! BUT, this "carving" looks so tidy, so clean, so artistic that I almost want it, but nooo, I won't get it. I ask myself why would people do this to themselves? I'm not judging, just in case; although I want to judge badly, but I can't, because it looks fucking great! Dude, just look at that design! From an artistic perspective is great, it's awesome, if it were a tatoo I wouldn't have a problem! I mean, I don't have a problem with it being a SKIN carving! My problem is with the pain that it must have taken to make it! Imagine the pain of a tatoo, mixed with the pain of grinding your skin on pavement as you fall from a running motorcicle (I'm sure is not as brutal as that example, but I may not be far from truth either). The artistic technique is flawless: look at the depht of the cut, at the pressicion of the edges, at the finnesse of the angles, at the clean look, at the details of the design... Dang. I can't stop looking at it.
This "skin carving", for all who don't know, is made so that when the skin heals, it will leave a scar, ergo a scar in the shape of a butterfly. I really would love to see the end result of it, (not to mention pictures of the healing process (I would imagine oozing puss, some bleeding and itching scabs)). Awesome concept. Nasty pain.
I found this while I was surfing through blogs:
http://modblog.bmezine.com/page/4/
Be warned though, it is not for the faint of heart, nor the weak of stomach; parental discression adviced and most importantly, mental discression advice aaaand openmindedness! Some pictures will make you shiver! But some others are reaaaally just awesome.
Do you see the awesomeness of it? Do you see the piercings? I myself don't like piercings, but in that picture they look sooo great!Now, watch this other crazyness.
Do you see what I see? (that reminds me of a Christmas song). If what you see is a carving of someone's SKIN!!, then you're right! My gosh, I never thought I would see voluntary "skin carvings", it just baffles my mind! BUT, this "carving" looks so tidy, so clean, so artistic that I almost want it, but nooo, I won't get it. I ask myself why would people do this to themselves? I'm not judging, just in case; although I want to judge badly, but I can't, because it looks fucking great! Dude, just look at that design! From an artistic perspective is great, it's awesome, if it were a tatoo I wouldn't have a problem! I mean, I don't have a problem with it being a SKIN carving! My problem is with the pain that it must have taken to make it! Imagine the pain of a tatoo, mixed with the pain of grinding your skin on pavement as you fall from a running motorcicle (I'm sure is not as brutal as that example, but I may not be far from truth either). The artistic technique is flawless: look at the depht of the cut, at the pressicion of the edges, at the finnesse of the angles, at the clean look, at the details of the design... Dang. I can't stop looking at it.This "skin carving", for all who don't know, is made so that when the skin heals, it will leave a scar, ergo a scar in the shape of a butterfly. I really would love to see the end result of it, (not to mention pictures of the healing process (I would imagine oozing puss, some bleeding and itching scabs)). Awesome concept. Nasty pain.
I found this while I was surfing through blogs:
http://modblog.bmezine.com/page/4/
Be warned though, it is not for the faint of heart, nor the weak of stomach; parental discression adviced and most importantly, mental discression advice aaaand openmindedness! Some pictures will make you shiver! But some others are reaaaally just awesome.
Friday, December 01, 2006
Educational Post: Blue Planet
(more Penguins and Whales)
The other night, (or shall I say morning?, because it was like 3 or 4 in the morning).... Lets start again... If I go to bed uber late (or uber early) I usually turn the TV on, to watch "10 or 15 minutes" until my eyes get tired. It so happens, tho, that whatever it is I find is so interesting that I stay up until the show is over. That's what happened this night (morning). I turn the TV on when I lay in bed, I flip the channel into Animal Planet, knowing that for sure something interesting for "the insomniac" is going to be on, but also knowing that if I do, I will stay up, ALSO knowing that if I stay up I won't wake up the next day as rested as I should. But, masochism is a very complicated trait of the human race... So, I turn the TV on, and there it is: BLUE PLANET, a critically acclaimed documentary series about ocean life in our planet (duh, it's not going to be Jupiter).
Penguins
(I know, I'm obssessed by now with penguins, but I have to talk about them again, but if u are bored of penguins, just skip this parragraph and scroll down to the "Whales")
As I watch they're talking about penguins, and about the hardships of a particular species that has to ride the waves so they can get to the top of a very steep cliff, so they can go to their breeding grounds. And you see the little birds struggling in the tempestous waves, you see their small, black wings (that look like fins of course) flailing on the surface, being engulfed by the raging foam of the waves, and then, they fall so hard on the rock (which, bytheway, is not a flat, smooth rock, but very pointy and rough, my mind could only imagine the quatity of penguins being impailed by them). Seeing this was really really very moving. They do it because instinct tells them to, and they don't see the dangers, or maybe the do see it, but they still go against all the odds.
Whales
But, the most exciting, and moving thing I saw that night was the chase of a grey whale. Grey Whales are the second or third biggest animal in the world, only the Blue Whale is larger. So, who or what is chasing the gray whales? Man? Nope. It is a pack, or a school, or a group of orcas, killer whales. Dang. Killer whales are called like that because they're the only whale that hunt, to eat, while the other whales just eat krill or plankton. So, the narrator says: "the gray whales follow strict migration roads... the killer whales know this, and they are on the hunt. The gray whales don't know they have been spotted". And while he narrates, you see the mother gray whale, with her calf, swiming placcidly inches from the surface of the ocean, without even making waves, while, on the other hand, you see the orcas going up and down on the water, with that distictive dorsal fin (like sharks), and their black and white skin breaking the blue of the ocean, swimming rapidly, even almost rabidly. And so, the Grey whales finally see the danger.
A grey whale can easily outrun an Orca, because they are three or four times larger, but, calfs are not as strong. So you see the orcas swimming faster, and you can see the difference cause the water on top of them swirls and splashes. But, when the calf gets exhausted, the mother has to stop and fight. And, believe me, this fight was VERY VERY intense. You would say, "No, a fight in the water cannot possibly be interesting, let alone nerve-racking, nothing like a good boxing match". But you may be wrong. I don't know how the people of Blue Planet did this, but the editing, the narration, and the action in the water was super exciting:
The narrator goes, "the killer whales circle the mother and her calf, and try to separate them. The orcas push themselfs between mother and calf, taking turns; and in the meantime, exhausting the young whale". And you see this huge black orcas swimming between the two gray bodies, you see the fins of the grays, the foam in the water, the struggle underneath... "The orcas have to be careful, the mother can inflict great damage with her tail... The orcas finally succed". And now, the orcas litterally jump over the small gray whale, and you see the huge skins trembling, you can even imagine the profound sound it would make. And I say out loud: "they're trying to drown it"; that's when the narrator says: "the orcas jump over the young calf, trying to submerge it, they want to drown it". And then you can see the large gray whale going under the small whale trying to get it to the surface so it can breath, while the orcas are on top of the small whale, pushing down, AND while you see the poor calf upside-down in between them, clearly suffering, clearly exhausted, I could even imagine him rolling his eyes because he can't breath. And then, out of the blue, "one orca takes a bite". And OH GOSH, you can SEE the bite on the small calf's fin, it looked as if you took a bite off of a sandwich, a clear half moon on the fin, and then, the blood. And, finally, the orcas drown the baby whale.
The mother has to go on, without her young, whom she kept inside for 18 months? (I forget the whale's time of gestation), and after birth for another 14 months, and for whom she had to stay behind from the rest of the whales...
During the fight, I imagined the hours it took the orcas to get this baby whale, and that's when the narrator says: "After six long hours of work, the orcas only ate the lower jaw and the tonge of the calf, abandoning the carcass floating on the ocean surface". Six hours!!! Just eat less that a quart of the whale! Natually, the carcass won't go to waste, it would soon sink and down there there are others who will rejoyce with that free bounty...
Nature sure is cruel. But amazing.
Blue Planet is on Wednesdays, at 9:00, I think, on Animal Planet, and a rerun during the late (or early) hours of the night.
(Love is instinctive). (Unexplainable)
Penguins
(I know, I'm obssessed by now with penguins, but I have to talk about them again, but if u are bored of penguins, just skip this parragraph and scroll down to the "Whales")
As I watch they're talking about penguins, and about the hardships of a particular species that has to ride the waves so they can get to the top of a very steep cliff, so they can go to their breeding grounds. And you see the little birds struggling in the tempestous waves, you see their small, black wings (that look like fins of course) flailing on the surface, being engulfed by the raging foam of the waves, and then, they fall so hard on the rock (which, bytheway, is not a flat, smooth rock, but very pointy and rough, my mind could only imagine the quatity of penguins being impailed by them). Seeing this was really really very moving. They do it because instinct tells them to, and they don't see the dangers, or maybe the do see it, but they still go against all the odds.
Whales
But, the most exciting, and moving thing I saw that night was the chase of a grey whale. Grey Whales are the second or third biggest animal in the world, only the Blue Whale is larger. So, who or what is chasing the gray whales? Man? Nope. It is a pack, or a school, or a group of orcas, killer whales. Dang. Killer whales are called like that because they're the only whale that hunt, to eat, while the other whales just eat krill or plankton. So, the narrator says: "the gray whales follow strict migration roads... the killer whales know this, and they are on the hunt. The gray whales don't know they have been spotted". And while he narrates, you see the mother gray whale, with her calf, swiming placcidly inches from the surface of the ocean, without even making waves, while, on the other hand, you see the orcas going up and down on the water, with that distictive dorsal fin (like sharks), and their black and white skin breaking the blue of the ocean, swimming rapidly, even almost rabidly. And so, the Grey whales finally see the danger.
A grey whale can easily outrun an Orca, because they are three or four times larger, but, calfs are not as strong. So you see the orcas swimming faster, and you can see the difference cause the water on top of them swirls and splashes. But, when the calf gets exhausted, the mother has to stop and fight. And, believe me, this fight was VERY VERY intense. You would say, "No, a fight in the water cannot possibly be interesting, let alone nerve-racking, nothing like a good boxing match". But you may be wrong. I don't know how the people of Blue Planet did this, but the editing, the narration, and the action in the water was super exciting:
The narrator goes, "the killer whales circle the mother and her calf, and try to separate them. The orcas push themselfs between mother and calf, taking turns; and in the meantime, exhausting the young whale". And you see this huge black orcas swimming between the two gray bodies, you see the fins of the grays, the foam in the water, the struggle underneath... "The orcas have to be careful, the mother can inflict great damage with her tail... The orcas finally succed". And now, the orcas litterally jump over the small gray whale, and you see the huge skins trembling, you can even imagine the profound sound it would make. And I say out loud: "they're trying to drown it"; that's when the narrator says: "the orcas jump over the young calf, trying to submerge it, they want to drown it". And then you can see the large gray whale going under the small whale trying to get it to the surface so it can breath, while the orcas are on top of the small whale, pushing down, AND while you see the poor calf upside-down in between them, clearly suffering, clearly exhausted, I could even imagine him rolling his eyes because he can't breath. And then, out of the blue, "one orca takes a bite". And OH GOSH, you can SEE the bite on the small calf's fin, it looked as if you took a bite off of a sandwich, a clear half moon on the fin, and then, the blood. And, finally, the orcas drown the baby whale.
The mother has to go on, without her young, whom she kept inside for 18 months? (I forget the whale's time of gestation), and after birth for another 14 months, and for whom she had to stay behind from the rest of the whales...
During the fight, I imagined the hours it took the orcas to get this baby whale, and that's when the narrator says: "After six long hours of work, the orcas only ate the lower jaw and the tonge of the calf, abandoning the carcass floating on the ocean surface". Six hours!!! Just eat less that a quart of the whale! Natually, the carcass won't go to waste, it would soon sink and down there there are others who will rejoyce with that free bounty...
Nature sure is cruel. But amazing.
Blue Planet is on Wednesdays, at 9:00, I think, on Animal Planet, and a rerun during the late (or early) hours of the night.
(Love is instinctive). (Unexplainable)
Wednesday, November 29, 2006
Joel's Thoughts on Cheap Stuff
A mi no me gusta ir a las tiendas Uno, Dos, Tres, y mucho menos ahora que las cosas tienen el dichoso tax, que si sale a un peso, pues te jodes porque tienes que dar los siete, los seis, o los cinco chavos y medio... Pero bueno, el tax no es el propósito de este post, este post es sobre cosas baratas... Así, que vuelvo a la tienda. Pues, como decía, detesto la tienda unodostres, por las cosas mierdosas que venden, aunque, si eres un universitario viviendo con un minimun wage en la ciudad de Nueva York, pues encontrarás que esta tienda es heaven... Lástima que no los hay allá. Pues, detesto la tienda, lo repito. ¿Pero, Joel, no crees que ese odio que le tienes en algún momento se convertirá en amor? Pues la verdad no creo, a lo mejor cuando esté viejo y senil, que no me esté dando cuenta de las cosas que hago... pero para eso ya estaré viviendo en Argentina, vecino de los nietos de Wilkins, o estaré qué sé yo, en Australia o Japón, allá hay tiendas baratillo también, pero no son Unodostres.
Pues la idea de este post no era hablar de la contrayá tienda, lo que pasa es que de pronto se me ocurrió mencionarla y ya ven la disgreción enorme que produjo. El propósito principal de este post era decir que a mi me encantan las cosas baratas. Pero, Joel, eso contradice completamente tu párrafo anterior. ¿Y? ¿No puedo ser contradictorio? La gente es complicada, you know... Anyway, la cosa es que me encantan las cosas baratas, y no porque yo, en sí, sea barato, no, para nada. Lo que pasa es que hay ciertas cosas que son baratas y son mucho mejores que sus contrapartes caras. Y no me refiero a las figuritas de mala muerte que venden en Unodostres. Así que aclararé ahora, en este preciso momento. ¿A cuántos le gustan los Snickers? *Joel lifts up his hands, as if he were a little boy in the eight grade* (Hablando del octavo grado, tenía una maestra de español que vendía sandwichitos, ella era súper, además de que sí daba clases, al contrario de la maestra de historia de décimo grado, quien era la competencia de la del octavo, y cuya clase era una mierda, yo me rehusé a hacer cualquier trabajo de historia, especialmente el trabajo de los pueblos, y saqué dos F's, pero de alguna manera pasé la clase con C-, ¿que cómo?, hasta este día es un misterio. Me hubiese gustado decirle en la cara que como maestra era un sandwichito con moho tirado en una cuneta). Pues como iba diciendo, me encantan los Snickers. ¿Pero, Joel, y qué tienen que ver los Snickers con cosas baratas? Pues, ¿cuánto vale un Snickers? Un peso, o tres si eres lo suficientemente pendejo para comprarlos en el cine. Pero, escojamos el de a peso. Comparado con los chocolates estos Whitmans... Pues aquí va mi dicotomía (esa palabra me intriga y en este momento no sé si la estoy usando correctamente, pero la usaré sólo porque me da la gana). ¿Cuánto valen los Whitmans? Una purruchá. ¿Y saben buenos? No, a carajo saben (o por lo menos tres cuartas partes de ellos). ¿Entonces para qué rayos comprar chocolates caros para tener una experienca bucal estupendamente horrible, cuando puedes comprarte un jugoso y chicloso Snickers, del cual disfrutarás cada maní recubierto de caramelo junto a cada pedacito del "nuggat"? Ahí estriba mi gusto por las cosas baratas. Pero no se queda ahí. El vino. Para mí, mientras más barato, mejor. Es que los vinos caros "finos" son súper ágrios y secos, así que mejor me quedo con los suavecitos y dulcecitos... y total, la juma será más rápida con los baratos, y no tan sólo rápida, sino también alargada, por la cantidad de botellas de Ponteveccio que puedes comprar. Jajajaja... A la verdad que sí soy barato en ese sentido... Y qué me dicen de los hamburgers de un peso de Wendy's? ¿O las papitas? No me digan que no, porque si no pecan de no haberlos probados, porque no he encontrado a nadie que diga nada malo sobre Wendy's (bueno, excepto mi padre, que a él no le gusta por razones totalmente objetables e irracionales) (¿Joel, terminarás el paréntesis de tu padre sin decir la razón irracional y objetable? No nos dejes así, canto de cucador) (pues está bien, la razón es la siguiente, él aduce que los hamburguers de Wendy's son súper chiquitos, (él come mucho), y no se le comparan a los de BurgerKing, y yo le contesto, que si ha visto el triple carne de Wendy's, pero entonces pienso que ahora burgerking tiene uno de cuatro carnes... UY, de tan sólo pensarlo me da algo....). Anyway, ¿por dónde iba? Pues iba por el "denounment" de este post, porque se me está acabando la inspiración teclearetil (wow, me sorprendo de mis palabrotas disparateras). Pero antes, tengo que mencionar las cosas baratas que no aguanto. Por ejemplo: los dvd's y cd's pirateaos. Para nada, no diré que tengo cd's pirateaos por si acaso hay por ahí agentes del fbi observando, (porque no los tengo) pero diré que los he visto por ahí, y los detesto. Primero por lo baratos que se ven, ni cajita ni dibujitos ni na, como que la experiencia no es la misma. Entonces cuando ves el dvd en la tv está explotao de blanco y me encojono y no veo na. Los cd's de música no tienen ese problema pero también sufren de ser poco llamativos y de quedarse olvidados en alguna colección de cd's que están completos con sus nombres en los lomos. ¿Qué más? Bueno, creo que ya mi punto has come across.
So, cheap stuff is good when they taste right. And not when they look wrong. It's all about the senses. If it feels right, the cheap prostitute is good, but if she sounds slushy or wheezy, then lo barato te ha salido caro... cómprate una muñeca de calidad... evitarás enfermedades venéreas.
Y así, sin más ni más, con un final más o menos sorpresivo los dejo hasta el próximo post.
Pues la idea de este post no era hablar de la contrayá tienda, lo que pasa es que de pronto se me ocurrió mencionarla y ya ven la disgreción enorme que produjo. El propósito principal de este post era decir que a mi me encantan las cosas baratas. Pero, Joel, eso contradice completamente tu párrafo anterior. ¿Y? ¿No puedo ser contradictorio? La gente es complicada, you know... Anyway, la cosa es que me encantan las cosas baratas, y no porque yo, en sí, sea barato, no, para nada. Lo que pasa es que hay ciertas cosas que son baratas y son mucho mejores que sus contrapartes caras. Y no me refiero a las figuritas de mala muerte que venden en Unodostres. Así que aclararé ahora, en este preciso momento. ¿A cuántos le gustan los Snickers? *Joel lifts up his hands, as if he were a little boy in the eight grade* (Hablando del octavo grado, tenía una maestra de español que vendía sandwichitos, ella era súper, además de que sí daba clases, al contrario de la maestra de historia de décimo grado, quien era la competencia de la del octavo, y cuya clase era una mierda, yo me rehusé a hacer cualquier trabajo de historia, especialmente el trabajo de los pueblos, y saqué dos F's, pero de alguna manera pasé la clase con C-, ¿que cómo?, hasta este día es un misterio. Me hubiese gustado decirle en la cara que como maestra era un sandwichito con moho tirado en una cuneta). Pues como iba diciendo, me encantan los Snickers. ¿Pero, Joel, y qué tienen que ver los Snickers con cosas baratas? Pues, ¿cuánto vale un Snickers? Un peso, o tres si eres lo suficientemente pendejo para comprarlos en el cine. Pero, escojamos el de a peso. Comparado con los chocolates estos Whitmans... Pues aquí va mi dicotomía (esa palabra me intriga y en este momento no sé si la estoy usando correctamente, pero la usaré sólo porque me da la gana). ¿Cuánto valen los Whitmans? Una purruchá. ¿Y saben buenos? No, a carajo saben (o por lo menos tres cuartas partes de ellos). ¿Entonces para qué rayos comprar chocolates caros para tener una experienca bucal estupendamente horrible, cuando puedes comprarte un jugoso y chicloso Snickers, del cual disfrutarás cada maní recubierto de caramelo junto a cada pedacito del "nuggat"? Ahí estriba mi gusto por las cosas baratas. Pero no se queda ahí. El vino. Para mí, mientras más barato, mejor. Es que los vinos caros "finos" son súper ágrios y secos, así que mejor me quedo con los suavecitos y dulcecitos... y total, la juma será más rápida con los baratos, y no tan sólo rápida, sino también alargada, por la cantidad de botellas de Ponteveccio que puedes comprar. Jajajaja... A la verdad que sí soy barato en ese sentido... Y qué me dicen de los hamburgers de un peso de Wendy's? ¿O las papitas? No me digan que no, porque si no pecan de no haberlos probados, porque no he encontrado a nadie que diga nada malo sobre Wendy's (bueno, excepto mi padre, que a él no le gusta por razones totalmente objetables e irracionales) (¿Joel, terminarás el paréntesis de tu padre sin decir la razón irracional y objetable? No nos dejes así, canto de cucador) (pues está bien, la razón es la siguiente, él aduce que los hamburguers de Wendy's son súper chiquitos, (él come mucho), y no se le comparan a los de BurgerKing, y yo le contesto, que si ha visto el triple carne de Wendy's, pero entonces pienso que ahora burgerking tiene uno de cuatro carnes... UY, de tan sólo pensarlo me da algo....). Anyway, ¿por dónde iba? Pues iba por el "denounment" de este post, porque se me está acabando la inspiración teclearetil (wow, me sorprendo de mis palabrotas disparateras). Pero antes, tengo que mencionar las cosas baratas que no aguanto. Por ejemplo: los dvd's y cd's pirateaos. Para nada, no diré que tengo cd's pirateaos por si acaso hay por ahí agentes del fbi observando, (porque no los tengo) pero diré que los he visto por ahí, y los detesto. Primero por lo baratos que se ven, ni cajita ni dibujitos ni na, como que la experiencia no es la misma. Entonces cuando ves el dvd en la tv está explotao de blanco y me encojono y no veo na. Los cd's de música no tienen ese problema pero también sufren de ser poco llamativos y de quedarse olvidados en alguna colección de cd's que están completos con sus nombres en los lomos. ¿Qué más? Bueno, creo que ya mi punto has come across.
So, cheap stuff is good when they taste right. And not when they look wrong. It's all about the senses. If it feels right, the cheap prostitute is good, but if she sounds slushy or wheezy, then lo barato te ha salido caro... cómprate una muñeca de calidad... evitarás enfermedades venéreas.
Y así, sin más ni más, con un final más o menos sorpresivo los dejo hasta el próximo post.
Saturday, November 25, 2006
And the turkey dies
And in other news, the turkey was killed on the 23rd of November, as the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade went on. There are no witnesses of this retched murder, even when there were so many people at the house. We have no images of this sad story, but we will keep you informed if something else develops. This has been Joel reporting, channel 7 news. Back to you.
Wednesday, November 22, 2006
El Pavo Vive
(click for larger view)Observen el pavo inflable. Ojos saltones. El gargajo guindádole del pico, el sombrero de los peregrinos ("que hicieron la comida en comuna" o "se comieron a la comuna"). Observen las patas fuertes y robustas. Si pueden notar detrás del cuerpo, la incongruente cola que, si no les recuerda al logo de NBC, les recordará erróneamente a un pavo real (el cual no es el que se come en el pavo day) (duh!, Joel). Y observen también en el cuello, el pañuelito con cuadritos "checkereados" de picnic, cualquiera diría que son reminiscencias de los vaqueros westerns, otros dirían que les recuerda a The Village People.
Y, para terminar, hago la salvedad de que este pavo lleva sentado en frente de mi casa desde el primero de noviembre (todas las mañanas se desinfla y revive por la noche). (No sé por qué tenía que hacer esta salvedad, pero bueno...)
Le dedico este post a Kalhúa, quien tuvo calabazas inflables en octubre; RIP Halloween hasta el próximo año... ¡Viva el pavo!
(esta historia continúa)
Tuesday, November 21, 2006
Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix movie!
Y el trailer salió hace poco, o yo me acabo de enterar, pero para aquellos que estén como yo de despistados... para aquellos hardcore fans... o para aquellos que simplemente se emocionan con una película de fantasía... aquí les va:
(Este LINK/TRAILER es de mejor calidad) www.harrypotterorderofthephoenix.com
(Pero si quieres youtube, dale play ahí abajo)
(Este LINK/TRAILER es de mejor calidad) www.harrypotterorderofthephoenix.com
(Pero si quieres youtube, dale play ahí abajo)
Monday, November 20, 2006
Esoteric transitions / Las trancisiones esotéricas / Ce sont les transitions ésotériques
(( * * * ))
(I'm so clever that I love me)
(Je suis très ingénieux, que je m'aime)
(Qué frutal soy, ah) (a veces me sorprendo)
Sunday, November 19, 2006
Educational Post: La guanábana / The soursop
(English Version below)La Guanábana
(clickea la foto pa verla grande)
¿De dónde Dios se sacó el diseño sicodélico de la guanábana? O sea, solamente mírenla. ¿No es la fruta más rara que jamás han visto en la historia? ¿No creen que sea autóctona del explaneta Plutón? Tiene que ser alienígena. ...Con esa forma de riñón verde y con las púas (que no puyan), y ¡ese tamaño!
Bueno, pero el misterio no es tanto "de dónde salió la idea de inventarse la guanábana", hay un misterio más grande aún: ¿A quién rayos se le ocurrió llamarle guanábana? ¿A los indios taínos? Bueno, probablemente fueron ellos, que eran sabios e inocentes...
Pero, miren, a pesar de su rara apariencia la guanábana es la fruta que da un jugo súper rico. Cuando la cortas, su interior es blanco y resbaloso. Nunca la hedo así del palo, así que no sé cómo sepa sola, pero el jugo, aaaaah, qué cosa brutal. Es especito, frío (si lo metes en la nevera) y duuulce si le echas el azúcar necesaria.
La guanábana, patrimonio de este país tropical y muchos otros...
Dato curioso:
Mientras buscaba cómo rayos se dice "guanábana" en inglésencontré otra fruta parecida, la chirimoya. Es exactamente igual que la guanábana por dentro, pero por fuera tiene como unas escamas en vez de las esotéricas e intrigantes púas ganabaneras...
Chirimoya
Guanábana abierta
Ah, y en inglés es Soursop... Hmm, o por lo menos eso saqué de mi research.
________________________________________________________________
(english version)
The Soursop
(click on the above pic for larger view)
Where did God get the psychedelic design of the soursop? I mean, just look at it. Isn't it the freakiest looking fruit you've ever seen in history? Doesn't it look like it is native of the ex-planet Pluto? I must be alien. ...With that kindney-like shape, and those thorns (that don't actually sting) and that size!
But, the mystery is not only "where did the idea of the soursop came from"... The bigger mystery is: "Who the hell made up such a name as soursop"? ("guanábana" in Spanish, which is a weird name too). Was it the late indigenous tribes of Puerto Rico, the Taínos? Probably yes, they were wise and innocent...r>
But, you see, even when the soursop has that weird apperance, it gives a very good juice. When you cut the fruit, its insides are white and slippery. I have never had a piece straight from the tree, so I don't know how it tastes on its own, but I've had the juice and its oooh so good: smooth, thick, cold (if you put it in the fridge), and sweeeet, if you sugar it well...
Soursop, patrimony of Puerto Rico, and other tropical countries.
Curious fact:
While I was looking for "guanábana" (soursop) in English, I also found another fruit, the "chirimoya" (custard apple) It looks exactly the same as the soursop on the inside, but on the outside they have a kind of scales, instead of the esotheric and intriguing soursopy thorns...
Chirimoya (custard apple)
Guanábana abierta (opened soursop)
What the hell is a "sop"?
Saturday, November 18, 2006
Happy Feet (a penguin movie)
Last year, on the movie theaters, the documentary (docudrama actually) "The March of the Penguins", was played (I even wrote something about it last year click this link if u need backstory). It was one of the best movies/documentaries I had ever seen. There was such a thin line between a fictional movie and a documentary, because you could see yourself as a penguin, they couldn't be more human than you or I. Beautiful, heartbreaking, hopeful, powerful, very uplifting movie...
So. With that said, comes:
Happy Feet (trailer 2 is my favorite)
Mumble Happy Feet is a newly born emperor penguin who cannot sing. So?, you may ask. Well, if you cannot sing, according to the movie, you cannot find a mate. But Mumble could dance, when no other penguin either didn't dare to dance or they couldn't. So, Mumble was ostracized, by the high powers (the goverment, or the "wise" men), from the community. And you think, "oh, so this movie is going to be very light, warm, fuzzy, and most likely for children". But, oh, I was wrong.
The movie deals with so many issues, simbolisms, allusions and parallelisms of real human life that is almost unbelievable. I mean, from the fact that Mumble was ejected from the community for being "different", right there you have themes like: racism, homophobia, or discrimination in any way. I don't want to tell the story but, the scene in which you can see that discrimination it's also a critique to blind religion, when the penguins refuse to dance, and the say something like: "the penguin way" (that casually sounds like Amen)... Really freaky and interesting. There's also a commentary on hierachies...
Also, there are messeges about acceptance, when some latin-sounding, smaller, non-emperor penguins, accept Mumble no matter how he is. And, you have to listen to those little penguins, they're hilarious, specially the one voiced by Robin Williams; and you have to see theme move and act, they're so vivid. Really, a very entertaining thing to see, and to listen; it was like a stand up comedy show.
Remember tho, that this movie is a musical, so there's music and dance... The choreographies were great, and worked so well with the camera movements, which were on themselves very very smooth. And the music is all about latin-black-pop-soul-dance-hiphop really enjoyable, if not awesome (that coming from someone who doesn't really like hip-hop).
And there are scenes with such drama, and violence that I was like: "gosh, this is NOT for children". Because it showed the harshness of nature, like there is a scene where some big eagle-like birds were going to eat the little Mumble, and it was to me soooo heartpounding, and menacing, that I seriously thought that the children in the theater were going to cry. No one did. But, there was another scene involving a fight over a fish between three birds and the teenaged Mumble, that is pure violence. In THAT one little child cried.
What else can I say. Everytime you think the movie is going somewhere it takes you somewhere else.
My favorite scene is one when Mumble is walking with his latin-voiced-small-penguins friends against a storm of high winds... One of the most frigid photorealistic shots of the movie, and one of the most memorable. They're pushing against the high winds, and the sun is on the background, so you see only their silhouettes...
You must see it. Even if you don't like animated movies. See this one. It is worth it. There are movies that afterwards you say: "why the fuck did I pay X amount of money to watch this shitty movie"... I assure you, that you will not be disappointed. You go for the cute factor, and because the trailers are so funny!!!!, but you come out with a whole experience of drama, commentary, art and, most importantly, comedy.
Ps: Oh, and pleeeaaase, see it in English, you will loose so much with a dub (I think).
So. With that said, comes:
Happy Feet (trailer 2 is my favorite)
Mumble Happy Feet is a newly born emperor penguin who cannot sing. So?, you may ask. Well, if you cannot sing, according to the movie, you cannot find a mate. But Mumble could dance, when no other penguin either didn't dare to dance or they couldn't. So, Mumble was ostracized, by the high powers (the goverment, or the "wise" men), from the community. And you think, "oh, so this movie is going to be very light, warm, fuzzy, and most likely for children". But, oh, I was wrong.
The movie deals with so many issues, simbolisms, allusions and parallelisms of real human life that is almost unbelievable. I mean, from the fact that Mumble was ejected from the community for being "different", right there you have themes like: racism, homophobia, or discrimination in any way. I don't want to tell the story but, the scene in which you can see that discrimination it's also a critique to blind religion, when the penguins refuse to dance, and the say something like: "the penguin way" (that casually sounds like Amen)... Really freaky and interesting. There's also a commentary on hierachies...
Also, there are messeges about acceptance, when some latin-sounding, smaller, non-emperor penguins, accept Mumble no matter how he is. And, you have to listen to those little penguins, they're hilarious, specially the one voiced by Robin Williams; and you have to see theme move and act, they're so vivid. Really, a very entertaining thing to see, and to listen; it was like a stand up comedy show.
Remember tho, that this movie is a musical, so there's music and dance... The choreographies were great, and worked so well with the camera movements, which were on themselves very very smooth. And the music is all about latin-black-pop-soul-dance-hiphop really enjoyable, if not awesome (that coming from someone who doesn't really like hip-hop).
And there are scenes with such drama, and violence that I was like: "gosh, this is NOT for children". Because it showed the harshness of nature, like there is a scene where some big eagle-like birds were going to eat the little Mumble, and it was to me soooo heartpounding, and menacing, that I seriously thought that the children in the theater were going to cry. No one did. But, there was another scene involving a fight over a fish between three birds and the teenaged Mumble, that is pure violence. In THAT one little child cried.
What else can I say. Everytime you think the movie is going somewhere it takes you somewhere else.
My favorite scene is one when Mumble is walking with his latin-voiced-small-penguins friends against a storm of high winds... One of the most frigid photorealistic shots of the movie, and one of the most memorable. They're pushing against the high winds, and the sun is on the background, so you see only their silhouettes...
You must see it. Even if you don't like animated movies. See this one. It is worth it. There are movies that afterwards you say: "why the fuck did I pay X amount of money to watch this shitty movie"... I assure you, that you will not be disappointed. You go for the cute factor, and because the trailers are so funny!!!!, but you come out with a whole experience of drama, commentary, art and, most importantly, comedy.
Ps: Oh, and pleeeaaase, see it in English, you will loose so much with a dub (I think).
Thursday, November 16, 2006
Acúsame
este es un cuento raro...
Acúsame
por: Joel
©
Acúsame
por: Joel
©
Cuando a las paredes le brotaron ojos oscuros y góticos, con el delineador marcando más aún ese blanco que envuelve las pupilas, te pusiste a temblar. Las cuatro paredes te observaban, junto al piso, junto al techo. Doce ojos. Te miran. Te ignoran. Vibran. Lagrimean. Sus cercanías te hacen explorar sus imperfecciones, que son a la vez sus perfecciones. Las cristalinidades de los iris. Las estelas de colores como las vetas de las canicas. Un ojo tiene una pajita, y parpadea; las pestañas agitan el aire. Te soplan. De pronto huele a químico de revelar fotos. Pones un pie en el piso; sientes la frágil acuosidad de un ojo, y sientes el párpado capturarte el pie. Los ejes de visión se tornaron directos a tí. En aquella cámara oscura te aíslan. Radiografían. Topografían. Sonografían. Fotografían. Te hurgan los huesos. La sangre. El oxígeno que traes dentro. Observan tus neuronas y la electricidad que se desplaza por tus pelos. Tu cuerpo te sacude. Te ven tus pensamientos. ¿Qué ocultas? Te preguntan. ¿Qué ocultas? Y en un lapso mínimo de lúcida inteligencia, guardas silencio, sonríes y los señalas.
Wednesday, November 15, 2006
Uñeros / Ingrown nails
I don't think it is an "ingrown nail" persé... If you bite your nails, you know what an uñero is, they are those little pieces of skin at the side of your nails which are very, very tempting, very, very hard not to bite off. But then, when you do bite them off, to make them fingers smooth, then you end up with a very small open wound that burns even if a light breeze breathes at them... (You notice them on the side of the index and middle fingers.... right?) (click the picture for a larger view). So annoying! I guess little things hurt a lot. (and I mean that in the literal and the symbolical way).
Tuesday, November 14, 2006
Herores: Back on Track (we'll see for how long)
Well, as you may have seen, last Tuesday I posted a very demeaning post about the new NBC show: Heroes. Yes, I said it was dull, insipid, slow and faltering... (if you haven't read the post, click HERE).
And I still stand by those very strong words, because last week's episode was totally stupid. Now, today, was a completely diametrical experience. Very nice point-counterpoint story structure, well made, and concise: they took only three characters and made CLIMAXES for them. Oh, my gosh! I NEEDED these baaaad.
Did you notice the difference? I mean, I even felt it, I got goosebumps, I screamed with joy. Why the hell didn't they do this on the stupidly retarded previous episode? Gosh. Did you notice the suspence? I'm so excited that I can't contain it. I'll make a list:
GREAT MOMENTS on Nov. 13th's episode of HEROES
1. Best character introduction since HIRO's, the girl at the Texas diner: she was great, quirky and charming, and Hiro was with her, you couldn't possibly go wrong with him (except on the previous episode).
2. Heartfelt conversation between the guy who hears people's thoughts (I forget his name) and Ted (the radioactive/firey guy), and did you feel the tension in that? He was going to boil the water and make everything explode... We neeeeeded THAT tension. IIII needed that tension...
3. Mohinder dreams of a creepy boy, whom of which we know nothing of, nor if he is real or imaginary (for Mohinder and his father (or maybe I lost that part because I took too long in the bathroom)), but did you notice the mystery?!!! Mystery! I can't believe we have mystery now.
4. Creepy guy with the watch... everybody says it recalls things from "the cigarette smoking man" from the X-files, I think it is a cliché put to good use then... Mystery #2.
5. What is Eden's secret with the cheerleader's father? What is her power? I thought that was well developed, unlike Peter Petrelli's obsession with flying, which already tires... Mystery #3 & 4
6. Hiro's vanishing into the past. Awesome. And then, counting until five and he doesn't come back! My gosh!
STUPID MOMENTS in this episode
1. The conversation between Mohinder and that hindu girl: "We didn't say hello", she says. "Hello [whatever the fuck your name was]", Mohinder says. "Hello, Mohinder". I was like: it can't get any cornier.
2. I don't think there was a second stupid moment.
HOOK's for the next episode (there are so many)
1. Scroll up and, find mystery number 1, 2, 3 and 4.
2. What did Adrian (Adrian's his name?) paint?!
3. Will the cop leave his cheating wife? Or will he forgive her?
4. Are these "heroes" made? Because they have marks on their bodies... hmm
5. What the fuck happened to Hiro?! Will he save the promising character of the waitress? (I hope he does [I hope the writers do!]).
Wasn't that the best ending? The imminence of the cheerleader's peril... Ted's prison break with a blast... The cop's love triangle... Mohinder's stupidity redeemed (that was my thought, sorry)... and Hiro's friend waiting in despair for him... There was some poetry there too... I can't believe they made it up to me (us!). But... for how long?
The best thing, though, is this:
I said to myself: why doesn't Hiro go back in time to rescue the girl? He can certainly do it. And then he says: "I should go back in time and save her", and I'm like, yes!, but then I also go: he's just too afraid to use his power, or he doesn't know how to use them right; and then Hiro says: "If I am too afraid to use my powers, then I don't deserve them", and I was like: he's reading my mind tooo!!!
I can't wait for next Monday. We'll see what happens!
And I still stand by those very strong words, because last week's episode was totally stupid. Now, today, was a completely diametrical experience. Very nice point-counterpoint story structure, well made, and concise: they took only three characters and made CLIMAXES for them. Oh, my gosh! I NEEDED these baaaad.
Did you notice the difference? I mean, I even felt it, I got goosebumps, I screamed with joy. Why the hell didn't they do this on the stupidly retarded previous episode? Gosh. Did you notice the suspence? I'm so excited that I can't contain it. I'll make a list:
GREAT MOMENTS on Nov. 13th's episode of HEROES
1. Best character introduction since HIRO's, the girl at the Texas diner: she was great, quirky and charming, and Hiro was with her, you couldn't possibly go wrong with him (except on the previous episode).
2. Heartfelt conversation between the guy who hears people's thoughts (I forget his name) and Ted (the radioactive/firey guy), and did you feel the tension in that? He was going to boil the water and make everything explode... We neeeeeded THAT tension. IIII needed that tension...
3. Mohinder dreams of a creepy boy, whom of which we know nothing of, nor if he is real or imaginary (for Mohinder and his father (or maybe I lost that part because I took too long in the bathroom)), but did you notice the mystery?!!! Mystery! I can't believe we have mystery now.
4. Creepy guy with the watch... everybody says it recalls things from "the cigarette smoking man" from the X-files, I think it is a cliché put to good use then... Mystery #2.
5. What is Eden's secret with the cheerleader's father? What is her power? I thought that was well developed, unlike Peter Petrelli's obsession with flying, which already tires... Mystery #3 & 4
6. Hiro's vanishing into the past. Awesome. And then, counting until five and he doesn't come back! My gosh!
STUPID MOMENTS in this episode
1. The conversation between Mohinder and that hindu girl: "We didn't say hello", she says. "Hello [whatever the fuck your name was]", Mohinder says. "Hello, Mohinder". I was like: it can't get any cornier.
2. I don't think there was a second stupid moment.
HOOK's for the next episode (there are so many)
1. Scroll up and, find mystery number 1, 2, 3 and 4.
2. What did Adrian (Adrian's his name?) paint?!
3. Will the cop leave his cheating wife? Or will he forgive her?
4. Are these "heroes" made? Because they have marks on their bodies... hmm
5. What the fuck happened to Hiro?! Will he save the promising character of the waitress? (I hope he does [I hope the writers do!]).
Wasn't that the best ending? The imminence of the cheerleader's peril... Ted's prison break with a blast... The cop's love triangle... Mohinder's stupidity redeemed (that was my thought, sorry)... and Hiro's friend waiting in despair for him... There was some poetry there too... I can't believe they made it up to me (us!). But... for how long?
The best thing, though, is this:
I said to myself: why doesn't Hiro go back in time to rescue the girl? He can certainly do it. And then he says: "I should go back in time and save her", and I'm like, yes!, but then I also go: he's just too afraid to use his power, or he doesn't know how to use them right; and then Hiro says: "If I am too afraid to use my powers, then I don't deserve them", and I was like: he's reading my mind tooo!!!
I can't wait for next Monday. We'll see what happens!
Saturday, November 11, 2006
Dinero
No sé si sabían que ando haciendo maestría en creación literaria... pues ahora lo saben. Y pues, este es un ejercicio de diálogo, cuyo resultado me gustó. El propósito del ejercicio no lo logré (del todo), pero el cuento está chévere... (al menos eso creo).
Dinero
por: Joel
©
-¿Me puedes prestar unos chavos?
-Sí, claro. ¿Cuánto?
-Eeh... -lo pensaste, antes de decir la cantidad completa- Tres...cientos...
-¡Trescientos pesos! ¿Estás loco?
-Pero no es tanto...
-Estás loco, mano. ¿De dónde voy a sacar trescientos pesos?
-¿No tienes ningún ahorro?
-¡Ja! La verdad que eres cojonú. Si los tuviera no te los prestaba. ¿Tú sabes lo que son trescientos pesos?
-Sí -dijiste, preguntándote qué hubiese dicho si le decías la cantidad correcta.
-Bueno, ¿y para qué quieres tantos chavos así de momento?
-Es que tengo que pagar... el celular.
-¿Trescientos pesos de celular? ¿Pero y cuánto tu hablas?
-Un montón.
-Estás cabrón. Estás cabrón.
-Sí -dijiste, y se te escapó entre los dientes-: voy a tener que pedir un préstamo...
-¿Un préstamo? -te escuchó-. ¿Para pagar un celular? Mano, córtalo por un mes, y págalo poco a poco. ¿Un préstamo pa un mísero celular? Es más, toma -te dio veinte dólares-. Empieza con esto hoy. Pero tienen vuelta. Oíste.
-Sí.
-Pero dale, acábate de ir.
-Ya voy, ya mismo. Tengo que comer algo, que tengo un hambre.
-Oye, ¿tú no estás en algo mafioso o algo así, verdad? -dijo él sonriendo.
-No, no, no. ¿Yo? ¿Con lo pendejo que soy? ¿Cómo va a ser?
-Na. Es que parece que le debes chavos a la mafia o algo así.
-Ahora el que está loco eres tú. Las cosas que tu piensas...
-Bueno, uno nunca sabe. Mira los terroristas esos, un día son buenos y al otro se tiran con to y bomba.
-Jum.
-Oye, ¿te acuerdas de Samaida?
-La que estaba bien buena en el party, sí.
-Pues esta noche le voy a dar bien duro.
-Ok.
-Primero la voy ya llevar a comer y después no se sabe. Así que no puedes estar aquí cuando vuelva.
-Ok.
-Bueno, pues me voy a bañar, porque como tú estás hablando tanto...
-Oook.
-Ok, ok, ok, tan cabrón...
-Mañana me dices cómo te fue.
-Sí, sí -y se metió al baño.
-¡Oye!
-¿Qué? -contestó, su voz se escuchaba con eco.
-¿Tienes el teléfono de Robert?
-En el celular. Búscalo. Le a vas a pedir chavos a él también, ah.
-Sí.
-Buena suerte... Ese está más pelao que tú y que yo juntos
Dinero
por: Joel
©
-¿Me puedes prestar unos chavos?
-Sí, claro. ¿Cuánto?
-Eeh... -lo pensaste, antes de decir la cantidad completa- Tres...cientos...
-¡Trescientos pesos! ¿Estás loco?
-Pero no es tanto...
-Estás loco, mano. ¿De dónde voy a sacar trescientos pesos?
-¿No tienes ningún ahorro?
-¡Ja! La verdad que eres cojonú. Si los tuviera no te los prestaba. ¿Tú sabes lo que son trescientos pesos?
-Sí -dijiste, preguntándote qué hubiese dicho si le decías la cantidad correcta.
-Bueno, ¿y para qué quieres tantos chavos así de momento?
-Es que tengo que pagar... el celular.
-¿Trescientos pesos de celular? ¿Pero y cuánto tu hablas?
-Un montón.
-Estás cabrón. Estás cabrón.
-Sí -dijiste, y se te escapó entre los dientes-: voy a tener que pedir un préstamo...
-¿Un préstamo? -te escuchó-. ¿Para pagar un celular? Mano, córtalo por un mes, y págalo poco a poco. ¿Un préstamo pa un mísero celular? Es más, toma -te dio veinte dólares-. Empieza con esto hoy. Pero tienen vuelta. Oíste.
-Sí.
-Pero dale, acábate de ir.
-Ya voy, ya mismo. Tengo que comer algo, que tengo un hambre.
-Oye, ¿tú no estás en algo mafioso o algo así, verdad? -dijo él sonriendo.
-No, no, no. ¿Yo? ¿Con lo pendejo que soy? ¿Cómo va a ser?
-Na. Es que parece que le debes chavos a la mafia o algo así.
-Ahora el que está loco eres tú. Las cosas que tu piensas...
-Bueno, uno nunca sabe. Mira los terroristas esos, un día son buenos y al otro se tiran con to y bomba.
-Jum.
-Oye, ¿te acuerdas de Samaida?
-La que estaba bien buena en el party, sí.
-Pues esta noche le voy a dar bien duro.
-Ok.
-Primero la voy ya llevar a comer y después no se sabe. Así que no puedes estar aquí cuando vuelva.
-Ok.
-Bueno, pues me voy a bañar, porque como tú estás hablando tanto...
-Oook.
-Ok, ok, ok, tan cabrón...
-Mañana me dices cómo te fue.
-Sí, sí -y se metió al baño.
-¡Oye!
-¿Qué? -contestó, su voz se escuchaba con eco.
-¿Tienes el teléfono de Robert?
-En el celular. Búscalo. Le a vas a pedir chavos a él también, ah.
-Sí.
-Buena suerte... Ese está más pelao que tú y que yo juntos
Friday, November 10, 2006
What happens when people are angry
Please look at this picture carefully. (It is Ok if it doesn't make much sense).
OK. What's wrong with this picture? Can you tell?
So, I was playing RollerCoaster Tycoon one day (this was waaaay back when I didn't have a job) (although I still play sometimes) and I was building a rollercoaster on the other side of this park. And when I finished, look what I found! A dotted line of vomit, destruction and madness!!! People were angry in that corner of the park. Very. Very angry. Not to mention nauseous, because, if one person sees vomit he/she will vomit right next to the first puddle, and ever more so if that first vomit is right on the exit of a rollercoaster (as you can see the white one there, called "El Condor") (no, the game's not in Spanish, it's just that one coaster). Also notice all the broken benches, these people have some muscle in their tiny, little arms, you know, because some of these are concrete (cement) benches, not wood or plastic (well, the ones in the middle are wood, the ones right in front of the chicken shop are concrete)... but the thing is that the little motherfuckers still break them. They were super angry about the whole puked-on surroundings. But that's not all, look for the litter and trash, the purple spots are chicken nugget boxes, the white elongated spots are either soda cups or cans... Well, the people also trashed the trash cans (redundancy there), so they didn't have anywhere to throw away their filth, so they just let it all go on the paths... the pig bastards.
So, Joel, why is this park so deserted?, you may ask. Well, there's a reason, of course. And no, the people didn't leave the park, they are just invisible for the purpose of this picture, I made them disappear for a while. They made ME angry because they are not tolerant. And, above all, they are very whiney. They whine about the filth, they whine about the litter, they whine because their hungry, they whine because something is too expensive, they whine because they need to take a dump, or a piss, they whine because it rains... ugh, they should all just go home (wait, no, they need to stay and spend spend spend their money in my park). So, I made them disappear so that I could bring some custodian force to clean up these messes. Yes, I knew you were asking where was the sanitary management... well, they were missing in action, I had THREE in that area, and they were nowhere to be found. One was stuck somewhere, and couldn't get out (I gave him a pardon). The other one was happily enjoying the ammenities of the park at the other corner (he got fired on the spot, I shall add...). And the third, I don't know, I don't remember, probably he was beaten up by the ubersuperangry mob and left for dead at some corner, because I couldn't even find him...
Morals
1. Don't leave people alone for too long, they are bound to betray you as soon as they can.
2. Ubersuperduperangry people are dangerous, stay away from them.
3. Do not trust the sanitary workers, they're dirty too.
4. Do some weights in order to be fit enough to break concrete benches with your elbow.
PS.
If you know anything about this game, also notice the date on the lower right corner:
June, Year 31!!!!! Thirty one! (good thing I accomplished the goal of that scenario). (Gosh).
Temperature: 84 degrees Farenheit. Pretty warm.
Weather: Sunny -> Parcially sunny (whatever the shit...)
PS2.
AAAND then look at the lower left corner, how many guests?
Five thousand seven hundred and twenty five!!!! 5725
Oh, yeah, I rock... (although my computer was scared, she said they were heavy).
what a trip i've gone off to...
That's all.
OK. What's wrong with this picture? Can you tell?
So, I was playing RollerCoaster Tycoon one day (this was waaaay back when I didn't have a job) (although I still play sometimes) and I was building a rollercoaster on the other side of this park. And when I finished, look what I found! A dotted line of vomit, destruction and madness!!! People were angry in that corner of the park. Very. Very angry. Not to mention nauseous, because, if one person sees vomit he/she will vomit right next to the first puddle, and ever more so if that first vomit is right on the exit of a rollercoaster (as you can see the white one there, called "El Condor") (no, the game's not in Spanish, it's just that one coaster). Also notice all the broken benches, these people have some muscle in their tiny, little arms, you know, because some of these are concrete (cement) benches, not wood or plastic (well, the ones in the middle are wood, the ones right in front of the chicken shop are concrete)... but the thing is that the little motherfuckers still break them. They were super angry about the whole puked-on surroundings. But that's not all, look for the litter and trash, the purple spots are chicken nugget boxes, the white elongated spots are either soda cups or cans... Well, the people also trashed the trash cans (redundancy there), so they didn't have anywhere to throw away their filth, so they just let it all go on the paths... the pig bastards.
So, Joel, why is this park so deserted?, you may ask. Well, there's a reason, of course. And no, the people didn't leave the park, they are just invisible for the purpose of this picture, I made them disappear for a while. They made ME angry because they are not tolerant. And, above all, they are very whiney. They whine about the filth, they whine about the litter, they whine because their hungry, they whine because something is too expensive, they whine because they need to take a dump, or a piss, they whine because it rains... ugh, they should all just go home (wait, no, they need to stay and spend spend spend their money in my park). So, I made them disappear so that I could bring some custodian force to clean up these messes. Yes, I knew you were asking where was the sanitary management... well, they were missing in action, I had THREE in that area, and they were nowhere to be found. One was stuck somewhere, and couldn't get out (I gave him a pardon). The other one was happily enjoying the ammenities of the park at the other corner (he got fired on the spot, I shall add...). And the third, I don't know, I don't remember, probably he was beaten up by the ubersuperangry mob and left for dead at some corner, because I couldn't even find him...
Morals
1. Don't leave people alone for too long, they are bound to betray you as soon as they can.
2. Ubersuperduperangry people are dangerous, stay away from them.
3. Do not trust the sanitary workers, they're dirty too.
4. Do some weights in order to be fit enough to break concrete benches with your elbow.
PS.
If you know anything about this game, also notice the date on the lower right corner:
June, Year 31!!!!! Thirty one! (good thing I accomplished the goal of that scenario). (Gosh).
Temperature: 84 degrees Farenheit. Pretty warm.
Weather: Sunny -> Parcially sunny (whatever the shit...)
PS2.
AAAND then look at the lower left corner, how many guests?
Five thousand seven hundred and twenty five!!!! 5725
Oh, yeah, I rock... (although my computer was scared, she said they were heavy).
what a trip i've gone off to...
That's all.
Thursday, November 09, 2006
Wednesday, November 08, 2006
What a piece of music can do
Here is an example of what a piece of music can do for a war game... It completely changes the meaning of what is said. How humanistic would a guy with a big gun be? Or did they choose the song just because the world in the game is mad? (title of the song is: "Mad World", just in case). But, don't get me wrong, I love the commercial, I think is very poetical (because of the song) and the images with the mechanic spider are awesome, (I think I am going to plagiarize it somehow). The game tho, its not my kind of game. I like Rollercoaster Tycoon; Mario Kart; Zelda; Soulcalibur; Pikmin; DDR; and the most violent is Starcraft (I love the blood and destruction in Starcraft, so, that redeems me) (probably) (I guess). Ok. Bye.
Tuesday, November 07, 2006
HEROES, most promising show on TV, but....
Anyone watches the NBC series: HEROES? (I know la Iguana Lola does).
Well, I hate to say that some of its episodes are dull and insipid. Gosh! Tonight's episode was interesting, but for some reason I feel the story is slow, and faltering... The writers are not having enough fun with the series. There is almost no tension. Everything is presented, and the characters are taking too long to be portraid/portrayed. On tonight's episode, another character was introduced: Ted, (he burns things), and we discovered the powers of the kid, Micah (because we knew he had to have powers, a mother with powers, and a father with powers... hence a son with powers). But besides that, it was dull.
The scene with the cheerleader and her brother, was worthless, (surely it will be used later). The scene of the burning car in the middle of the dessert... was stupid. I don't know. I really want to keep watching the show, but they are testing me, with these non-stop first acts of drama. I need a second act, and a climax, please!
And I thought the series was already on its gears last week. I was wrong.
I hope they make it up to me.
I'm leaving, I have homework.
Well, I hate to say that some of its episodes are dull and insipid. Gosh! Tonight's episode was interesting, but for some reason I feel the story is slow, and faltering... The writers are not having enough fun with the series. There is almost no tension. Everything is presented, and the characters are taking too long to be portraid/portrayed. On tonight's episode, another character was introduced: Ted, (he burns things), and we discovered the powers of the kid, Micah (because we knew he had to have powers, a mother with powers, and a father with powers... hence a son with powers). But besides that, it was dull.
The scene with the cheerleader and her brother, was worthless, (surely it will be used later). The scene of the burning car in the middle of the dessert... was stupid. I don't know. I really want to keep watching the show, but they are testing me, with these non-stop first acts of drama. I need a second act, and a climax, please!
And I thought the series was already on its gears last week. I was wrong.
I hope they make it up to me.
I'm leaving, I have homework.
Monday, November 06, 2006
Family Guy
Last night's episode of Family Guy (on AdultSwim) made me cry with laughter, especially this part:
(Stewie's been all over Lois, saying: I love you mami) (now watch):
(Stewie's been all over Lois, saying: I love you mami) (now watch):
Sunday, November 05, 2006
Películas Raras
(esto es para C, que le gustan las peliculas diferentes)
Andaba mirando trailers de películas por ahí (apple.com/trailers) (no les digo cortos porque cortos son otras cosas para mí) y encontré unas cuantas que valen la pena... pérate, "valen la pena" no es el calificativo correcto, sino que HAY que verlas...
1. The Fountain, (simplemente una fantasía que se ve chula)
2. Sketches of Frank Ghery, (documental sobre el famoso arquitecto, cuyos edificios son verdaderamente espectaculares) (de quien posteé hace tiempo aquí)
3. The Perfume, (tengo que aceptar que el trailer americano está mejor que el europeo, pero no me acuerdo del europeo muy así que eso como que no cuenta mucho).
4. Children of Men, (sobre la sociedad cuyas mujeres ya no quedan embarazadas).
5. Stranger than Fiction, (solamente tienen que ver para quedar pegaos)
yyyyyy
6. El Laberinto del Fauno / Pan's Labirinth (cuando vi el trailer me quedé estupefacto de lo increíble que se ve, sin palabras; pero la cosa no termina ahí, es una película de fantasía en ¡español! Personalmente me gustó más el trailer en inglés, porque enseña lo bonito, el que es en español es más como de terror... juzguen y vean):
Español
Inglés
Bueno, cruzo los dedos porque estas películas se lleguen a ver aquí. Por lo menos las últimas cuatro que aún no están en la lista de Caribbean Cinemas.
Andaba mirando trailers de películas por ahí (apple.com/trailers) (no les digo cortos porque cortos son otras cosas para mí) y encontré unas cuantas que valen la pena... pérate, "valen la pena" no es el calificativo correcto, sino que HAY que verlas...
1. The Fountain, (simplemente una fantasía que se ve chula)
2. Sketches of Frank Ghery, (documental sobre el famoso arquitecto, cuyos edificios son verdaderamente espectaculares) (de quien posteé hace tiempo aquí)
3. The Perfume, (tengo que aceptar que el trailer americano está mejor que el europeo, pero no me acuerdo del europeo muy así que eso como que no cuenta mucho).
4. Children of Men, (sobre la sociedad cuyas mujeres ya no quedan embarazadas).
5. Stranger than Fiction, (solamente tienen que ver para quedar pegaos)
yyyyyy
6. El Laberinto del Fauno / Pan's Labirinth (cuando vi el trailer me quedé estupefacto de lo increíble que se ve, sin palabras; pero la cosa no termina ahí, es una película de fantasía en ¡español! Personalmente me gustó más el trailer en inglés, porque enseña lo bonito, el que es en español es más como de terror... juzguen y vean):
Español
Inglés
Bueno, cruzo los dedos porque estas películas se lleguen a ver aquí. Por lo menos las últimas cuatro que aún no están en la lista de Caribbean Cinemas.
Thursday, November 02, 2006
Post-Halloween Horrifying True Story
Since I refused to post anything on Halloween night, I will post something that may or may not fit in a Halloweenish way.
This is called:
The Killer Eyebrows
My left eye has been, lately, the target of continous attacks by my eyebrows. Almost every other night something falls into my eyes. Suddenlly I feel something itching in there, something foreign, and most of all, with an edge, that prickles my eyeball and makes the eye tear up, and fog up. So, I go to the mirror, and with a flash light I closely examine my wet eye. And there it is, as if it were a black slash, the guilty eyebrow. Many methods are employed to get it out.
First: I call someone to blow me (no sexual pun intended), to blow on my eye.
Second: If that doesnt work, I pour water.
Third: If that doesnt work, then I personally put my fingers in there to extract the little hair. It is a dangerous task, I could loose my eye, but I must, because who can live with something in their eyes? Seriously?
But what is curious is that it is only my left eye... Then I wonder, is the right eye paying the eyebrows for the destruction of the left? Was there a love affair between right and left, and now the right has some grudge on the left? Who knows... Possibly this mystery will go on into the vaults of oblivion.
This is called:
The Killer Eyebrows
My left eye has been, lately, the target of continous attacks by my eyebrows. Almost every other night something falls into my eyes. Suddenlly I feel something itching in there, something foreign, and most of all, with an edge, that prickles my eyeball and makes the eye tear up, and fog up. So, I go to the mirror, and with a flash light I closely examine my wet eye. And there it is, as if it were a black slash, the guilty eyebrow. Many methods are employed to get it out.
First: I call someone to blow me (no sexual pun intended), to blow on my eye.
Second: If that doesnt work, I pour water.
Third: If that doesnt work, then I personally put my fingers in there to extract the little hair. It is a dangerous task, I could loose my eye, but I must, because who can live with something in their eyes? Seriously?
But what is curious is that it is only my left eye... Then I wonder, is the right eye paying the eyebrows for the destruction of the left? Was there a love affair between right and left, and now the right has some grudge on the left? Who knows... Possibly this mystery will go on into the vaults of oblivion.
Wednesday, November 01, 2006
November
Halloween is already gone. 2006 is almost gone too. But we still have November to enjoy. So many days off. Turkey. Gatherings. Birth. Memories. November has that regal and solemn sound to it. Like a good poem. November. Favorite month of the year. Best month of the year.
I'm sleepy. Leave me alone. (I've been reading aaalllll day)... estoy fundío.
Although, November rules!
I'm sleepy. Leave me alone. (I've been reading aaalllll day)... estoy fundío.
Although, November rules!
Monday, October 30, 2006
The World Stops For an Hour
And as Joel comes back from the shadows, as he reappears from the ashes of oblivion, as he returns from the depths of internet/cable debt, he wonders what will the people of the world do when it stops for an hour this very nigth, at any moment.
People around the world will suffer the strains of time change. One hour will do. People will be falling off their beds. Buildings will collapse. The world will stop abrutly. Please listen. Grab onto something. You'll have better chances if you grab something that is burried deep on the earth, like a well or a hugeamongous tree. Do not go to sleep. It will be your doooooom.
as I was writing this, I saw a lizard fall from the ceiling outside my window. It made a splatering sound, surely he survived, but that just proves the theory of the things falling... I TOLD YOU! it is STARTING! Feel the earth moving! Feeeel
People around the world will suffer the strains of time change. One hour will do. People will be falling off their beds. Buildings will collapse. The world will stop abrutly. Please listen. Grab onto something. You'll have better chances if you grab something that is burried deep on the earth, like a well or a hugeamongous tree. Do not go to sleep. It will be your doooooom.
as I was writing this, I saw a lizard fall from the ceiling outside my window. It made a splatering sound, surely he survived, but that just proves the theory of the things falling... I TOLD YOU! it is STARTING! Feel the earth moving! Feeeel
Friday, October 27, 2006
Absentism
Absentism
By: Joel
©
The teacher calls: "Joel", he answers: "I'm not here".
ps.(qué cuento pendejo, bueno, peor es nada).
ps2. (I'll come back soon, busy busy, and no internet, i know u dont miss me)
ps3. (watch the show: HEROES, its awesome, on NBC 21).
By: Joel
©
The teacher calls: "Joel", he answers: "I'm not here".
ps.(qué cuento pendejo, bueno, peor es nada).
ps2. (I'll come back soon, busy busy, and no internet, i know u dont miss me)
ps3. (watch the show: HEROES, its awesome, on NBC 21).
Saturday, October 14, 2006
Y no me avisan
Y no me avisan
Por: Joel
©
(Una historia real)
La doña iba distraida. Pasa por el área de los espejos, donde dos hombres y un muchacho se lavan las manos. Pasa por el área de los urinales. Grita. Y corre de vuelta hacia la entrada, (sus zapatos haciendo eco), inquiriendo entre risa y bochorno: "Y ustedes no me avisan, ah". Los hombres del baño levantaron los brazos mientras se reían.
Por: Joel
©
(Una historia real)
La doña iba distraida. Pasa por el área de los espejos, donde dos hombres y un muchacho se lavan las manos. Pasa por el área de los urinales. Grita. Y corre de vuelta hacia la entrada, (sus zapatos haciendo eco), inquiriendo entre risa y bochorno: "Y ustedes no me avisan, ah". Los hombres del baño levantaron los brazos mientras se reían.
Monday, October 09, 2006
Hoy tengo ganas de ser cafre
Sí, y decir todo lo que me salga del forro. (this is so out of character pero la verdad es que tengo ganas de decir muuuuchas cafrerías, sacarlas todas así a la rápida pa que to se joda y no se me queden pegás... porque imagínense yo, de la losa, hablando cafrerías por ahí... no no no, mejor to junto pa que no se me acumulen... ya hasta en el trabajo estoy dejando de ser... civil, y esto no puede suceder, mucho menos cuando seré el mejor legislador de este país, así que aquí va, y cuando sea legislador pueden coger e imprimir esto y dárselo al cabrón que quieran que me los paso por la piedra a tos... "Sí lo escribí y ¿qué pasa ah? En este país hay libertad de expresión, qué tu te crees; yo digo lo que me salga de los cojones...).
Ven, como ya empecé. Es que hoy vi a mi tío. Y el... pues es un personaje. Bebe desde las nueve de la mañana si lo dejan y te habla por un tubo y siete llaves; sin mentir por horas de horas de horas sin parar; de sus aventuras sociales. Entonces, él tiene frases célebres como: "Yo soy un tipo inteligente" y "Cómo estoy bregando". Anyway, la cosa es que él es de esos de la calle cafrondos pero buenagente, pero que si lo jodes, te jode y te jodes pa siempre; ah y te dice las cosas en la cara bien cabrón, "si no te gusta te puedes ir al carajo". Bueno, pues me inspiró a decir lo que me saliera de las bolas.
La verdad no tengo mucho qué decir. Lo que sí es que el pene se me está saliendo. Sí. Es que he comprado unos calzoncillos que nunca compro y resulta que se me sale el pingo por el roto del frente. A cada rato. Entonces, la cosa es que ando por mi casa en ellos (porque son de estos boxers briefs bien chéveres) y de pronto fuácata ahí salió a coger aire. Estoy en la cama mirando la televisión y de pronto siento un friito y es el muy cabrón afuera de nuevo. Orita estaba leyendo algo en un blog que ni me acuerdo (creo que era la letrina.net) y riéndome de lo que leía fuá se salió, y yo: "puñetero, coge pa dentro que esto no es fiesta". Si fuera que se me para y se sale (aunque ya ha pasado) pero no, es que se sale por cualquier bobería.
Anyway. Cambiando el tema drásticamente, aunque no tanto, en el trabajo hay unos que se la pasan:
-Cabrón, que si la cabrona aquella no quería chingar, cabrón.
-Pero cabrón, ponte a trabajar, cabrón, porque cabrón, eso está cabrón y...
-Pero cabrón escúchate esto, cabrón, yo estaba escuchándo música, cabrón y estaba cabrona
-Cállate la boca, cabrón, ponte a trabajar, cabrón, que estos cabrones nos van a clavar, cabrón
Y así seguía la cosa. Seguramente puse palabras en las bocas de los personajes de ese pequeño diálogo, pero si no entendieron un carajo, pues, están como yo. ¿Qué quería decir el primero al segundo? El segundo claramente quería salír de allí e irse pa la mierda a comer mierda por algún arrabal de mala muerte, pero el primero seguía hablando sandeces ininteligibles. ¿Cómo se entienden? Imagino que es un idioma diferente totalmente (este post es el resultado de estar en ese ambiente irreverente... jaja). Allá ellos. Yo mejor me quedo con los... seudo intelectuales: *and Joel pushes his dick back into his underwear as he rolls his eyes, and thinks that masturbation will be his only redemption for tonight*.
nos vemos por ahí
ps2. Si tuviera una categoría que dijera: "Cafre Thoughts" los americanos estarían completamente lelos: ("What the fuck is 'cafre', Joel?"; "I don't know, dude, is one of those words were you just know the meaning but don't know how to express it; something like: "awesome" or "cool", but not as awesome and cool as awesome and cool, get it? But, seriously, dude, I don't know how the hell to translate it into English (yet), so you'll have to wait, and wait long".) Pero todavía no tengo quorum para Cafre Thoughts... así que sigan esperando.
Joel, qué diatriba cafronda más encojoná...
me fui en el viaje de nuevo. adiós antes de que me vaya en otro peor
Ven, como ya empecé. Es que hoy vi a mi tío. Y el... pues es un personaje. Bebe desde las nueve de la mañana si lo dejan y te habla por un tubo y siete llaves; sin mentir por horas de horas de horas sin parar; de sus aventuras sociales. Entonces, él tiene frases célebres como: "Yo soy un tipo inteligente" y "Cómo estoy bregando". Anyway, la cosa es que él es de esos de la calle cafrondos pero buenagente, pero que si lo jodes, te jode y te jodes pa siempre; ah y te dice las cosas en la cara bien cabrón, "si no te gusta te puedes ir al carajo". Bueno, pues me inspiró a decir lo que me saliera de las bolas.
La verdad no tengo mucho qué decir. Lo que sí es que el pene se me está saliendo. Sí. Es que he comprado unos calzoncillos que nunca compro y resulta que se me sale el pingo por el roto del frente. A cada rato. Entonces, la cosa es que ando por mi casa en ellos (porque son de estos boxers briefs bien chéveres) y de pronto fuácata ahí salió a coger aire. Estoy en la cama mirando la televisión y de pronto siento un friito y es el muy cabrón afuera de nuevo. Orita estaba leyendo algo en un blog que ni me acuerdo (creo que era la letrina.net) y riéndome de lo que leía fuá se salió, y yo: "puñetero, coge pa dentro que esto no es fiesta". Si fuera que se me para y se sale (aunque ya ha pasado) pero no, es que se sale por cualquier bobería.
Anyway. Cambiando el tema drásticamente, aunque no tanto, en el trabajo hay unos que se la pasan:
-Cabrón, que si la cabrona aquella no quería chingar, cabrón.
-Pero cabrón, ponte a trabajar, cabrón, porque cabrón, eso está cabrón y...
-Pero cabrón escúchate esto, cabrón, yo estaba escuchándo música, cabrón y estaba cabrona
-Cállate la boca, cabrón, ponte a trabajar, cabrón, que estos cabrones nos van a clavar, cabrón
Y así seguía la cosa. Seguramente puse palabras en las bocas de los personajes de ese pequeño diálogo, pero si no entendieron un carajo, pues, están como yo. ¿Qué quería decir el primero al segundo? El segundo claramente quería salír de allí e irse pa la mierda a comer mierda por algún arrabal de mala muerte, pero el primero seguía hablando sandeces ininteligibles. ¿Cómo se entienden? Imagino que es un idioma diferente totalmente (este post es el resultado de estar en ese ambiente irreverente... jaja). Allá ellos. Yo mejor me quedo con los... seudo intelectuales: *and Joel pushes his dick back into his underwear as he rolls his eyes, and thinks that masturbation will be his only redemption for tonight*.
nos vemos por ahí
ps2. Si tuviera una categoría que dijera: "Cafre Thoughts" los americanos estarían completamente lelos: ("What the fuck is 'cafre', Joel?"; "I don't know, dude, is one of those words were you just know the meaning but don't know how to express it; something like: "awesome" or "cool", but not as awesome and cool as awesome and cool, get it? But, seriously, dude, I don't know how the hell to translate it into English (yet), so you'll have to wait, and wait long".) Pero todavía no tengo quorum para Cafre Thoughts... así que sigan esperando.
Joel, qué diatriba cafronda más encojoná...
me fui en el viaje de nuevo. adiós antes de que me vaya en otro peor
Sunday, October 08, 2006
The Mosquito Effect or Two Bruised Mangoes
The Mosquito Effect or Two Bruised Mangoes
By: Joel
© 2006
(A true story)
By: Joel
© 2006
(A true story)
Joel has thick skin and narrow veins. So when he goes to the laboratory to get his blood drawn, nurses pinch him on the back of his hands instead of at the back of the elbow. The inexperienced ones always call the veterans. And the veterans always bring the heavy equipment. They use this little needle called "the butterfly", it is ultrafine and it has wings... hence the name: butterfly. Joel thanks God for it, because otherwise, nurses would be pushing and pulling the stupid needles inside his skin, inside his veins, and hurting him senseless. But this time they didn't have butterflies, they had the new, and (supposedly) improved plastic needles which are fat compared to their metallic counterparts. At least they brought a veteran nurse. "Mira a ver si tu puedes" (see if you can), said the not-as-experienced nurse. So the other one came over and without hesitation she inserted the needle into Joel's skin. It hurt, it never hurts when they use the butterflies. Blood was pouring out, and you could see the needle bending inside the skin. "Uy, eso se dobla" (Uy, that thing is bending), Joel said (he wanted to say "that shit is bending", but he's too proper). "Yeah, its plastic", said the nurse, unexcitedly and unfeelingly. After taking the blood she said that the vein was too short 
(whatever that means) to put the IV line in/on it. So, she had to pinch Joel's other hand. Long story short: Joel ended with two huge hematomas that bloomed on the back of his hands (and 11 days later they're still there(well, the one on the right hand)), making him look like a dirty junkie, or as if his hands were two bruised, rotten mangoes.
(whatever that means) to put the IV line in/on it. So, she had to pinch Joel's other hand. Long story short: Joel ended with two huge hematomas that bloomed on the back of his hands (and 11 days later they're still there(well, the one on the right hand)), making him look like a dirty junkie, or as if his hands were two bruised, rotten mangoes.Saturday, October 07, 2006
Conversación de un matrimonio después de un velorio de alguien conocido hace mucho tiempo, que no es familiar, pero que aún así sería igual
-Ahora tengo hambre.
-Yo ya estoy bien, con las galletitas aquellas... y con el chocolate completé.
-Eso a mi no me hace na.
En otro momento....
-[nombre de mujer] me dijo que ellos se habían comprado una casa enorme por... Yabucoa, una casa como de 120 mil pesos, que era una mansión.
En otro momento....
-Ella no se parecía me dicen [los hijos de la muerta]
-Es que cuando la gente se muere... debe ser el relleno que le ponen en la funeraria.
-No, no, si me dice [pariente de la muerta] que ella se veía así cuando dormía pero... no tanto.
En otro momento....
-¿Tu sabes cuánto costaron esas coronas?... 295 dólares.
-¿Trescientos pesos?
-Eso está brutal.
-Pero qué tu te crees, esto ya no es como antes que uno compraba eso a 25, 45 pesos...
-Sí pero... está brutal. Aquel ramito de flores na más que estaba allí en el reclinatorio costó cuatro pesos...
-Imagínate.
-[los hijos] cada uno dio pa la corona grande esa; entonces [pariente lejano] compró la otra que costaba como 100; y a [otro pariente de la muerta] le costó 150...
-Uno no se puede morir ya.
-Yo ya estoy bien, con las galletitas aquellas... y con el chocolate completé.
-Eso a mi no me hace na.
En otro momento....
-[nombre de mujer] me dijo que ellos se habían comprado una casa enorme por... Yabucoa, una casa como de 120 mil pesos, que era una mansión.
En otro momento....
-Ella no se parecía me dicen [los hijos de la muerta]
-Es que cuando la gente se muere... debe ser el relleno que le ponen en la funeraria.
-No, no, si me dice [pariente de la muerta] que ella se veía así cuando dormía pero... no tanto.
En otro momento....
-¿Tu sabes cuánto costaron esas coronas?... 295 dólares.
-¿Trescientos pesos?
-Eso está brutal.
-Pero qué tu te crees, esto ya no es como antes que uno compraba eso a 25, 45 pesos...
-Sí pero... está brutal. Aquel ramito de flores na más que estaba allí en el reclinatorio costó cuatro pesos...
-Imagínate.
-[los hijos] cada uno dio pa la corona grande esa; entonces [pariente lejano] compró la otra que costaba como 100; y a [otro pariente de la muerta] le costó 150...
-Uno no se puede morir ya.
Friday, October 06, 2006
El choque de los liberales y los conservadores
Una historia se desarrolla en el restaurante. En la mesa número uno (un booth pegado a la pared) hay una mujer que viene casi todos los días a comer con su hijita de dos añitos, que es bastante inquieta, pero cuando se tiene que comportar se comporta. En la mesa número dos (el booth justo al lado del primero) hay una pareja, un hombre y una mujer, ellos deben ser como diez años mayores que la mujer de la mesa uno; la pareja tiene una hija, quien tiene tres años (¿cómo sé las edades? ya mismo digo).
Resulta que la nena de la mesa uno (llamémosla Mari) se hace amiga de la nena de la mesa dos (llamémosla Dina), y se hacen amigas porque el espaldar del booth 1, es el espaldar del booth 2 y una cosa lleva a la otra, las nenas se ven y hay una reacción química en sus cerebros que las hace hablarse sin pena ni vergüenza alguna y pues el resto es historia. Las nenas son amigas de toda la vida por los minutos que pasen juntas allí. Pues resulta que las dos se ponen a brincar en sus respectivos asientos. Mientras que la mamá de Mari sigue comiendo apaciblemente al otro lado de la mesa 1, la mamá de Dina (quien está a su lado) empieza a perder la paciencia. La mamá de Mari se chupa los dedos (por unos melones dulcísimos que habían ese día en el restaurante) con su espalda erguida y su porte, a pesar de sus vestiduras tan casuales y playeras. Mientras que la mamá de Dina le empezaba a decir a Dina que se sentara, que aquel sitio no era para estar brincando. Mientras Dina lloraba porque su madre (la eterna conservadora) la aguantaba en el asiento, la otra nena, Mari, miraba por encima del booth.
En un momento Mari le dice a Dina que se venga a jugar. La mamá le dice a Dina que no, que están comiendo. Entonces Mari se pone triste y va a donde su mamá casi llorando porque Dina no quiere jugar. La mamá de Mari le dice que Dina no puede jugar, que ella está comiendo. Pero Mari no se va a dar por vencida y empieza a brincar otra vez en el asiento.
(interrupción para explicar cómo sé las edades de las nenas, pues resulta, que justo cuando las nenas se conocen, como parte de ese "get together" la mamá de Mari le pregunta con mucha alegría y candidez el nombre a la nena extraña, y se la presenta a su hija Mari, y le pregunta que cuántos años tiene, y Dina dice que 3, mientras que Mari contesta que dos y medio, y así, por otro lado, la mamá de Dina ni miró pa trás).
Pues la mamá de Dina se impacienta y regaña a su hija con mucha firmeza y un pampam duro. Hasta se levantó y le dijo a su esposo que se fueran a otra mesa (y yo en mi mente, ridícula). Cuando la mamá de Mari se va con Mari a buscar más comida del buffet, la mamá de Dina se cambió de asiento con su esposo para que las dos nenas no estuvieran cerca más. Y con esta acción el caso se resolvió. Pero podrán imaginar la tensión que hubo en todo momento.
¿Qué hubiese pasado si la señora esa le hubiese llamado la atención a la pequeña Mari? ¿La mamá de Mari hubiese dicho algo? (La verdad no creo, con lo liberal que era, seguro que no le hubiese importado que regañaran a su hija para que aprendiera una lección; por el contrario si los papeles estuviesen al revéz, la otra señora seguro que se ponía a pelear y a decir que ella no tiene que ponerse a regañar a su hija... pero esa es mi persepción).
Después de eso llegó otro nene al restaurante, a quien Mari conocía y se fue a jugar con él, olvidando por completo a Dina, quien comía aprisionada por su madre con pelo canoso. El claro choque de conservadores contra liberales. Uy.
Resulta que la nena de la mesa uno (llamémosla Mari) se hace amiga de la nena de la mesa dos (llamémosla Dina), y se hacen amigas porque el espaldar del booth 1, es el espaldar del booth 2 y una cosa lleva a la otra, las nenas se ven y hay una reacción química en sus cerebros que las hace hablarse sin pena ni vergüenza alguna y pues el resto es historia. Las nenas son amigas de toda la vida por los minutos que pasen juntas allí. Pues resulta que las dos se ponen a brincar en sus respectivos asientos. Mientras que la mamá de Mari sigue comiendo apaciblemente al otro lado de la mesa 1, la mamá de Dina (quien está a su lado) empieza a perder la paciencia. La mamá de Mari se chupa los dedos (por unos melones dulcísimos que habían ese día en el restaurante) con su espalda erguida y su porte, a pesar de sus vestiduras tan casuales y playeras. Mientras que la mamá de Dina le empezaba a decir a Dina que se sentara, que aquel sitio no era para estar brincando. Mientras Dina lloraba porque su madre (la eterna conservadora) la aguantaba en el asiento, la otra nena, Mari, miraba por encima del booth.
En un momento Mari le dice a Dina que se venga a jugar. La mamá le dice a Dina que no, que están comiendo. Entonces Mari se pone triste y va a donde su mamá casi llorando porque Dina no quiere jugar. La mamá de Mari le dice que Dina no puede jugar, que ella está comiendo. Pero Mari no se va a dar por vencida y empieza a brincar otra vez en el asiento.
(interrupción para explicar cómo sé las edades de las nenas, pues resulta, que justo cuando las nenas se conocen, como parte de ese "get together" la mamá de Mari le pregunta con mucha alegría y candidez el nombre a la nena extraña, y se la presenta a su hija Mari, y le pregunta que cuántos años tiene, y Dina dice que 3, mientras que Mari contesta que dos y medio, y así, por otro lado, la mamá de Dina ni miró pa trás).
Pues la mamá de Dina se impacienta y regaña a su hija con mucha firmeza y un pampam duro. Hasta se levantó y le dijo a su esposo que se fueran a otra mesa (y yo en mi mente, ridícula). Cuando la mamá de Mari se va con Mari a buscar más comida del buffet, la mamá de Dina se cambió de asiento con su esposo para que las dos nenas no estuvieran cerca más. Y con esta acción el caso se resolvió. Pero podrán imaginar la tensión que hubo en todo momento.
¿Qué hubiese pasado si la señora esa le hubiese llamado la atención a la pequeña Mari? ¿La mamá de Mari hubiese dicho algo? (La verdad no creo, con lo liberal que era, seguro que no le hubiese importado que regañaran a su hija para que aprendiera una lección; por el contrario si los papeles estuviesen al revéz, la otra señora seguro que se ponía a pelear y a decir que ella no tiene que ponerse a regañar a su hija... pero esa es mi persepción).
Después de eso llegó otro nene al restaurante, a quien Mari conocía y se fue a jugar con él, olvidando por completo a Dina, quien comía aprisionada por su madre con pelo canoso. El claro choque de conservadores contra liberales. Uy.
Friday, September 29, 2006
People Watching at a Puertorrican ER
So, as I was sicker than a pervert...(get it?)... I had to go to the hospital. I was actually very well taken care of, although kinda slow. So, while I was there, swimming in and out from dreams because of whatever the hell they put in my IV line (IV line is "el cablecito del suero que te ponen", years of watching ER teaches you something, you know...), and so, many interesting things, or I shall say, many interesting people came into the emergency while I was in my bed.
1. Blond, straight-haired lady comes in, and is sitted on the chair in which blood is drawn from patients. She looks healthy, although kinda groggy, when a male nurse passes by and asks her when was her liver transplant sugery done...
2. Old guy on a wheelchair with a blank eye, kinda creepy, kept looking my way, until all his bloodwork was done.
intermission
My bed was number two, so I was right in front of the little station where all the blood is taken and all the IV's are stuck to the patients... just in case that that wasn't obvious already.
3. One of the most shocking moments I've lived in a hospital: fifty-ish guy comes in with the sickest nosebleed i've ever seen. He was bursting bad. He was saying that he was drowning on his blood, and he was gurgling and spiting blood on oodles of paper sheets that would red so quickly. The floor was drizzled with red spots, but right below him, there were little pools. I've never seen so much blood from a live person. (maybe I have, and just blocked it out of my head). The guy kept asking for help. He was taken to the back of the ER. I later heard he was in surgery.
4. Tall, toasted-skinned guy, forty-ish comes in lamenting: "ay, aay, qué dolor" and he's grabbing his stomach. He came right after the bleeding man. The nurse had put some paper towels on the floor, but she wasn't put out by the fact that she was stepping on wet blood.
5. A very tall guy, who had mental issues, behaved when the nurse said not to get stiff so that the blood would run through the needle. Then he was sat next to the wall while waiting for a bed, and he began to moan loudly. The nurse yelled from afar that the medicine was going to take effect soon, that he had to stay put for a while. The guy then wanted a glove, because he wanted to bite on it. The guy who was accompanying him said that those were not for him to use, and then I fell asleep and I don't know what else happened.
6. And finally... a lady with a lisp and (fañosa) is screaming out view: "this is what you were waiting for huh?", and she comes into view with a convulsing girl on a wheelchair. "I've been here since 2pm and you haven't looked at her yet!" It was already 10pm, and I found that hard to believe because I got to the hospital at 5:10, and I was in a bed. Anyway, so the lady kept screaming and insulting nurses. "Isn't anyone going to move?! I swear that if my girl dies here I'll kill everybody here!" Then, the girl fell from the wheelchair, and her brother grabbed her. The lady threw the chair against the wall. After a while someone told her to shut up, and the girl got service... never heard from them again...
That was an exciting night at the Hospital. Next time: Weird people at the restaurant.
1. Blond, straight-haired lady comes in, and is sitted on the chair in which blood is drawn from patients. She looks healthy, although kinda groggy, when a male nurse passes by and asks her when was her liver transplant sugery done...
2. Old guy on a wheelchair with a blank eye, kinda creepy, kept looking my way, until all his bloodwork was done.
intermission
My bed was number two, so I was right in front of the little station where all the blood is taken and all the IV's are stuck to the patients... just in case that that wasn't obvious already.
3. One of the most shocking moments I've lived in a hospital: fifty-ish guy comes in with the sickest nosebleed i've ever seen. He was bursting bad. He was saying that he was drowning on his blood, and he was gurgling and spiting blood on oodles of paper sheets that would red so quickly. The floor was drizzled with red spots, but right below him, there were little pools. I've never seen so much blood from a live person. (maybe I have, and just blocked it out of my head). The guy kept asking for help. He was taken to the back of the ER. I later heard he was in surgery.
4. Tall, toasted-skinned guy, forty-ish comes in lamenting: "ay, aay, qué dolor" and he's grabbing his stomach. He came right after the bleeding man. The nurse had put some paper towels on the floor, but she wasn't put out by the fact that she was stepping on wet blood.
5. A very tall guy, who had mental issues, behaved when the nurse said not to get stiff so that the blood would run through the needle. Then he was sat next to the wall while waiting for a bed, and he began to moan loudly. The nurse yelled from afar that the medicine was going to take effect soon, that he had to stay put for a while. The guy then wanted a glove, because he wanted to bite on it. The guy who was accompanying him said that those were not for him to use, and then I fell asleep and I don't know what else happened.
6. And finally... a lady with a lisp and (fañosa) is screaming out view: "this is what you were waiting for huh?", and she comes into view with a convulsing girl on a wheelchair. "I've been here since 2pm and you haven't looked at her yet!" It was already 10pm, and I found that hard to believe because I got to the hospital at 5:10, and I was in a bed. Anyway, so the lady kept screaming and insulting nurses. "Isn't anyone going to move?! I swear that if my girl dies here I'll kill everybody here!" Then, the girl fell from the wheelchair, and her brother grabbed her. The lady threw the chair against the wall. After a while someone told her to shut up, and the girl got service... never heard from them again...
That was an exciting night at the Hospital. Next time: Weird people at the restaurant.
Thursday, September 28, 2006
Mínimo extracto de una conversación entre dos empleados que almuerzan en el restaurante donde trabajan, y a poca distancia del público general
-A esa [...] le voy a estar metiendo bicho por ese culo hasta que no pueda más.
-Oye,- contesta el otro con una sonrisa -cálmate, que ahí hay gente.
El primero se rie y sigue comiendo. Dos minutos después:
-A ella le gusta que le den bicho.
El otro se rie de nuevo. Y le repite por lo bajo:
-Mano, cállate, podemos hablar así acá tu y yo, pero ahí hay gente. -y luego se ríe de nuevo y me mira. Y yo levanto los hombros...
-Oye,- contesta el otro con una sonrisa -cálmate, que ahí hay gente.
El primero se rie y sigue comiendo. Dos minutos después:
-A ella le gusta que le den bicho.
El otro se rie de nuevo. Y le repite por lo bajo:
-Mano, cállate, podemos hablar así acá tu y yo, pero ahí hay gente. -y luego se ríe de nuevo y me mira. Y yo levanto los hombros...
Tuesday, September 26, 2006
Qué mierda es estar enfermo
Four days have gone and I'm still sick. But, it is not the kind of sick where you can go on with your life. It is the kind of sick that keeps you in bed or at home whether you want to or not. Stupid headeache. Stupid virus. How am I writing? Well, there are pools of lucidity in this mad illness that I carry, and this is one of them... but don't worry I'll be back in bed. I've never been this sick before. It sucks ass.
carajo, hasta orinar me marea.
carajo, hasta orinar me marea.
Thursday, September 21, 2006
No nos importas
No nos importas
Por: Joel
© 2006
Por: Joel
© 2006
Te duermes. El cigarrillo entre los dedos. Tu mano recostada en tu frente. Sientes las cenizas en tu pelo, despiertas, y las ves en la cama. Otras veces, has encontrado que el cigarrillo ha abandonado tus dedos, y se ha alojado en las tersas sábanas de tu cama. Has imaginado que un día arderás por tu insolencia, que, en vez de sacudirte las cenizas del pelo, alguien estregará el carbón de las paredes. Sonríes, porque uno sonríe ante las babosadas trágicas de la mente. Fumas. Exhalas el humo, te relajas. Te duermes.
El cigarrillo se escurre de entre tus dedos. Cae de punta en las sábanas. Se apiñan las cenizas, expulsando una minúscula partícula, que flota liviana como un plumón. La pizca aterriza estratégicamente sobre una gota. Una gota de gas que se destila por la astilla del encendedor de cigarrillos.
Tu pelo se enrosca. Tu nariz escudriña aquel olor irritante, pero no te despierta. Tus oídos escuchan un tiritar. Tu piel desnuda se broncea. Se te enciende el pelo, y sentir el ardor en el cerebro despierta tu cuerpo. Los gritos no ayudan. Saltas. Pero demasiado tarde.
La piel se te derrite. Se te aglutina la piel en los dedos, te la desgarras al espantar las llamas. Sientes tus pies agrietarse, como placas tectónicas, tratando de expulsar la quemazón. Tu cara se cocina, se fríe, se tuesta. Tus pulmones se ahuman, se tiznan. La puerta te preserva, no puedes abrir la perilla pues arde y allí relegas involuntariamente tus huellas digitales ensangrentadas. Las lágrimas te queman en las mejillas. La sangre se te coagula con rapidez. Las llagas se te quiebran de nuevo...
Agua te baña desde las ventanas. Cada gota es una estalactita de hielo, que recibes con la sonrisa deformada. Los bomberos arrancan la puerta. Te cargan. Sus ásperos guantes te desmenuzan los brazos, te tuercen los pellejos licuados y resbalan sobre tus músculos. Ya ni puedes gritar. Miras tu cuarto, así al revés, habría que estregar el carbón. Te fijas en la caja de cigarrillos y el encendedor. Ni te miran. No les importas. Reconocibles los dos, yacen sobre el gavetero con la infamia en sus caras calcinadas.
El cigarrillo se escurre de entre tus dedos. Cae de punta en las sábanas. Se apiñan las cenizas, expulsando una minúscula partícula, que flota liviana como un plumón. La pizca aterriza estratégicamente sobre una gota. Una gota de gas que se destila por la astilla del encendedor de cigarrillos.
Tu pelo se enrosca. Tu nariz escudriña aquel olor irritante, pero no te despierta. Tus oídos escuchan un tiritar. Tu piel desnuda se broncea. Se te enciende el pelo, y sentir el ardor en el cerebro despierta tu cuerpo. Los gritos no ayudan. Saltas. Pero demasiado tarde.
La piel se te derrite. Se te aglutina la piel en los dedos, te la desgarras al espantar las llamas. Sientes tus pies agrietarse, como placas tectónicas, tratando de expulsar la quemazón. Tu cara se cocina, se fríe, se tuesta. Tus pulmones se ahuman, se tiznan. La puerta te preserva, no puedes abrir la perilla pues arde y allí relegas involuntariamente tus huellas digitales ensangrentadas. Las lágrimas te queman en las mejillas. La sangre se te coagula con rapidez. Las llagas se te quiebran de nuevo...
Agua te baña desde las ventanas. Cada gota es una estalactita de hielo, que recibes con la sonrisa deformada. Los bomberos arrancan la puerta. Te cargan. Sus ásperos guantes te desmenuzan los brazos, te tuercen los pellejos licuados y resbalan sobre tus músculos. Ya ni puedes gritar. Miras tu cuarto, así al revés, habría que estregar el carbón. Te fijas en la caja de cigarrillos y el encendedor. Ni te miran. No les importas. Reconocibles los dos, yacen sobre el gavetero con la infamia en sus caras calcinadas.
Tuesday, September 19, 2006
On Jobs
Why is it that when you lack something you cannot do anything but yearn it, and then when you finally have it, you are a little dissapointed? (that has to do with dreams...)
Why is it that you want a job so badly, or that you need one so badly, and then when you finally get it, you can't think of anything else but the when is it going to end? Or at what time am I leaving?
And it's not even because you dislike the job... still... i dont know...
Why is it that you want a job so badly, or that you need one so badly, and then when you finally get it, you can't think of anything else but the when is it going to end? Or at what time am I leaving?
And it's not even because you dislike the job... still... i dont know...
Thursday, September 14, 2006
New Fine Arts Theather, Joel officially joins the workforce and Wii
So yesterday was an eventful day. Very eventful. It so happens that I joined the workforce. That sounds so military (random thought). And since my new job is my old job, I didn't need much training and I already got some money. And it is soooo good to have it, and stop worrying about the bank account...
But! another great thing happened yesterday, and many people didn't notice (of course, many people didn't noticed that I started to work either). Well, yesterday the NEW Fine Arts Movie Theater opened at Popular Plaza, Hato Rey (next to the train station). And it's like a café, I haven't been in, but I saw a girl with the uniform on the train today... They are going to play foreign movies... I'll be there often I think...
AAAAAAANNNNNDDDDD The most wonderful news are that today they announced the date in which the new Nintendo Wii will hit stores, it is the 19th of November! Finally! They announced it! And it's going to cost an affordable 250 dollars!, well, it is affordable compared to the 500/600 that the playstation 3 is going to cost... But that is not all! The new Zelda Twilight Princess also comes out in that date! So, geeks be merry! Woohoo!
But! another great thing happened yesterday, and many people didn't notice (of course, many people didn't noticed that I started to work either). Well, yesterday the NEW Fine Arts Movie Theater opened at Popular Plaza, Hato Rey (next to the train station). And it's like a café, I haven't been in, but I saw a girl with the uniform on the train today... They are going to play foreign movies... I'll be there often I think...
AAAAAAANNNNNDDDDD The most wonderful news are that today they announced the date in which the new Nintendo Wii will hit stores, it is the 19th of November! Finally! They announced it! And it's going to cost an affordable 250 dollars!, well, it is affordable compared to the 500/600 that the playstation 3 is going to cost... But that is not all! The new Zelda Twilight Princess also comes out in that date! So, geeks be merry! Woohoo!
Monday, September 11, 2006
The Train Video!
And Joel makes his directorial Debut with this wonderful video masterpiece about, what else, of course, The Train!
May you all be pleased
May you all be pleased
Friday, September 08, 2006
Appalled! if not Horrified!
Dios mío. I believe in God, or in something or someone larger than me, that makes everything happen. On the other hand, I think the bible is just a fictional story, at least three quarters of it (a fictional story that I like, by the way, with all of the fantasy that's in it, it's like medieval Harry Potter).
Shery, dedicated a post to God some days ago. And I left a comment: "la verdad es que ese es el que lo hace todo" (the truth is that he makes it all happen). And he does!
But, God gave us Freewill (© Copyrights of the Seventh Heaven), but, people have not learn to USE it wisely! "Live, and let others live". "Do unto others as you want them do unto you". "Ama al prójimo como a ti mismo".
I was happily surfing Apple.com/trailers, for upcoming movies and I find this documentary:
Jesus Camp.
I was appalled! HORRIFIED!
Why do adults make their children do these things? It is NOT healthy to worship God blindly! You have to worship him because you want to, because you feel it, because you know inside that he exists. God has to gain your trust, just like every other love you may have. Your parents have to be good to you so that you do not hate them afterwards. God has to gain your trust too.
But! Why are these small children crying at the church?! And convulsing?! What kind of derranged mind makes them do that? Seriously. To worship an idea that is not... I can't...
And not only that... WHY are the motherfucking churches promoting the "army" of god, WHY are they getting CHILDREN ready for the "war"!!!
O sea, que no entiendo. Por un lado quieren terminar las guerras, pero por otro promueven la guerra del señor. !¿QUÉ PUÑETA está pasando?! Por eso no puedo lidiar con religiones, me ponen de punta (conste que dije religiones, no dije Dios). Me voy.
An Epiphany just hit me... God is surely working on me right now...
I just said that God has to gain your trust, just like your parents, just like your boyfriends/girlfriends. And I also said that to love God blindly is not healthy... well, my epiphany consists in that
"If you love blindly then you are in bliss", because it is true, that if your love is unconditional to the point of blindness, then I guess you will cry and convulse on the floor for the ones you love...
Still, churches just want your fucking money! Do not be fooled by the sugestive music, and the overly long manipulative speeches. Read! Learn! Get your conclusions! Absorb what is good from them speeches (the parts that speak of being a possitive person for possitive results, for example), and ignore, PLEASE ignore church people when they ask u to do things that seem overly exagerated. You can feel God ANYWHERE, you can feel him in a Michael Jackson song, just as well as in a Luciano Pavaroti, and NOT just at church...
Ok, I'm leaving, because I'm starting to convulse too...
Shery, dedicated a post to God some days ago. And I left a comment: "la verdad es que ese es el que lo hace todo" (the truth is that he makes it all happen). And he does!
But, God gave us Freewill (© Copyrights of the Seventh Heaven), but, people have not learn to USE it wisely! "Live, and let others live". "Do unto others as you want them do unto you". "Ama al prójimo como a ti mismo".
I was happily surfing Apple.com/trailers, for upcoming movies and I find this documentary:
Jesus Camp.
I was appalled! HORRIFIED!
Why do adults make their children do these things? It is NOT healthy to worship God blindly! You have to worship him because you want to, because you feel it, because you know inside that he exists. God has to gain your trust, just like every other love you may have. Your parents have to be good to you so that you do not hate them afterwards. God has to gain your trust too.
But! Why are these small children crying at the church?! And convulsing?! What kind of derranged mind makes them do that? Seriously. To worship an idea that is not... I can't...
And not only that... WHY are the motherfucking churches promoting the "army" of god, WHY are they getting CHILDREN ready for the "war"!!!
O sea, que no entiendo. Por un lado quieren terminar las guerras, pero por otro promueven la guerra del señor. !¿QUÉ PUÑETA está pasando?! Por eso no puedo lidiar con religiones, me ponen de punta (conste que dije religiones, no dije Dios). Me voy.
An Epiphany just hit me... God is surely working on me right now...
I just said that God has to gain your trust, just like your parents, just like your boyfriends/girlfriends. And I also said that to love God blindly is not healthy... well, my epiphany consists in that
"If you love blindly then you are in bliss", because it is true, that if your love is unconditional to the point of blindness, then I guess you will cry and convulse on the floor for the ones you love...
Still, churches just want your fucking money! Do not be fooled by the sugestive music, and the overly long manipulative speeches. Read! Learn! Get your conclusions! Absorb what is good from them speeches (the parts that speak of being a possitive person for possitive results, for example), and ignore, PLEASE ignore church people when they ask u to do things that seem overly exagerated. You can feel God ANYWHERE, you can feel him in a Michael Jackson song, just as well as in a Luciano Pavaroti, and NOT just at church...
Ok, I'm leaving, because I'm starting to convulse too...
Thursday, September 07, 2006
Osteropornosis
In my drafts I had a list of words that I found at This blog, a long time ago. These words were made changing a letter or adding a letter and giving them another meaning, these are the ones I liked the most:
1. Bozone: (n.): The substance surrounding stupid people that stops bright ideas from penetrating. The bozone layer, unfortunately, shows little sign of breaking down in the near future.
2. Foreploy (v): Any misrepresentation about yourself for the purpose of getting laid.
3. Osteopornosis (n): A degenerate disease.
4. Sarchasm (n): The gulf between the author of sarcastic wit and the person who doesn't get it.
5. Ignoranus (n): A person who's both stupid and an asshole.
Then, these are just words with different meanings:
1. Coffee (n.), the person upon whom one coughs.
2. Flabbergasted (adj.), appalled over how much weight you have gained.
3. Abdicate (v.), to give up all hope of ever having a flat stomach.
4. Testicle (n.), a humorous question on an exam.
5. Rectitude (n.), the formal, dignified bearing adopted by proctologists.
6. Balderdash (n.), a rapidly receding hairline.
Entonces me inventé unas en español:
1. Mentira (s.) Mujer que, literal o simbólicamente, lanza a hombres por los aires.
2. Halón (s.) Elemento de la tabla periódica caracterizado por sus propiedades empujativas y halativas.
3. Lucha (s.), Dícese de un baño de puñetazos
4. Puñetazo (s.) Resíduo lechoso que se riega y molesta.
5. Impugnar (v.) Pelear impulsivamente.
6. Metano (s.) Metal pesado y tóxico cuando se guarda en lugares cerrados.
7. Empujativo (adj.) Se dice de los movimientos del parto.
8. Aguardar (v.) Regalar agua.
9. Halativo 1. (adj.) Que vuela con dios. 2. (s) dios televisivo
10. Bicha (s.) Chica bisexual.
11. Cagaré (s.), Depósito que se hace periódicamente
Y ahí, mi contribución lingüística. Añade las tuyas.
1. Bozone: (n.): The substance surrounding stupid people that stops bright ideas from penetrating. The bozone layer, unfortunately, shows little sign of breaking down in the near future.
2. Foreploy (v): Any misrepresentation about yourself for the purpose of getting laid.
3. Osteopornosis (n): A degenerate disease.
4. Sarchasm (n): The gulf between the author of sarcastic wit and the person who doesn't get it.
5. Ignoranus (n): A person who's both stupid and an asshole.
Then, these are just words with different meanings:
1. Coffee (n.), the person upon whom one coughs.
2. Flabbergasted (adj.), appalled over how much weight you have gained.
3. Abdicate (v.), to give up all hope of ever having a flat stomach.
4. Testicle (n.), a humorous question on an exam.
5. Rectitude (n.), the formal, dignified bearing adopted by proctologists.
6. Balderdash (n.), a rapidly receding hairline.
Entonces me inventé unas en español:
1. Mentira (s.) Mujer que, literal o simbólicamente, lanza a hombres por los aires.
2. Halón (s.) Elemento de la tabla periódica caracterizado por sus propiedades empujativas y halativas.
3. Lucha (s.), Dícese de un baño de puñetazos
4. Puñetazo (s.) Resíduo lechoso que se riega y molesta.
5. Impugnar (v.) Pelear impulsivamente.
6. Metano (s.) Metal pesado y tóxico cuando se guarda en lugares cerrados.
7. Empujativo (adj.) Se dice de los movimientos del parto.
8. Aguardar (v.) Regalar agua.
9. Halativo 1. (adj.) Que vuela con dios. 2. (s) dios televisivo
10. Bicha (s.) Chica bisexual.
11. Cagaré (s.), Depósito que se hace periódicamente
Y ahí, mi contribución lingüística. Añade las tuyas.
Wednesday, September 06, 2006
ANIME series that animated me
So this is a Geeky post, beware! Turn away right now if you want to stay cool. Although, geek is the new cool (they say...) (But if you like videos, stay put and read!)
I wanted to share this with you, people. Because I want to know who watches these kind of things. I never liked ANIME, you know, japan animation, I stuck with the american neatness. Toy Story, The Lion King, The Justice League, X-men, the classics Tom and Jerry or even classier Bugs Bunny. I didn't like the washed look of many of japanesse animation, I actually hated the messy and "real" way in which it was drawn. But then, came Pokemon, yes, I watched Pokemon. Why? Because it was interesting to see different "animals" have powers and battle, nothing different than the X-men. Pokemon has all japanese in it, the action, the melodrama, and mild violence... and no blood. Then I discovered Samurai Jack, an american show, from a russian creator, (the same guy who created Dexter's Laboratory) with lots of japanese influence! Oh, and even thought I didn't watch it often, I liked it a lot. Again, no blood. Then, my devirgination on Anime continued with the awesomely beautiful movie Spirited Away, so much poetry and vibrance in the drawings, I was... indescribably flabbergasted. So by now my resistance to it was waning. And finally came The Teen Titans, it is american animation japaniziced! If there is such a thing. The bright colors of american, with the abstractness of japanese.
Adultswim in Cartoon Network has corrupted me. I still am not too deep, but I'm going down hard. I was introduced to the series: "FLCL" (pronounced "foolycooly", you figure out what it means, and if you thought of sex, well, it may be). This is actually a miniseries of SIX episodes! My brother was like: "Joel, I think that even YOU would like this series". I don't know how he knew that it would, but he knew! Because I loved it! It is such a fast paced story. There are SO many details that if you look away you may loose, some little things that make the characters alive. And of course, the story! The first episode starts with an girl seducing a younger boy under a bridge. Then the boy narrates: "nothing happens in this town...". And then some weird, even older girl comes in a vespa bike and hits the boy in the head with an electric guitar. What the fuck!? And with that I was hooked. Then things started to sprout from the boys head. The boy falls in love with the girl. The girl uncovers her truth. A robot with an angelic complex. There is always a sexual tension in the atmosphere. And some lots of non-sensical shit that is simply the best characterization. And best of all, the comedy, the music and the beautiful drawings... You must watch it. And I happened to find a video! A comercial from Adultswim. Watch and judge.
This next one, is a montage with a song from the White Stripes, "I fell in love with a girl", but it's not from the show; but still it captures a lot of the crazyness and heart of this show.
Now. There is a second show I want to talk about, because it is the one that finally made me love ANIME. And this show is: Full Metal Alchemist. The same thing happened: "Joel, I think you will like this show". I was like: "Another one!" And, yes, ashamed to accept it, I loved it and I couldn't help it. This is a 52-episode show about two brothers who study alchemy and are trying to find the Philosopher's Stone (if you read Harry Potter you know what it is, kinda). They want it because they're bodies have been displaced. One of the brothers has no body, his soul is embeded into a suit of armor, while the other is missing an arm. How did this happen? Well, it is complicated. The whole show is complicated, is has a very tight plot with scheming political projects; inhuman bad guys whose names are the seven deadly sins; there is a vengeful, scarred guy who kills alchemists in the name of God; full of religious references, and morals; lots of blood; but there is also the subjects of "love above all things" and the rites of passage from boy to man. A very complete series, full of imagery, comedy and tears! you will cry, I'm sure! Gosh! I get goosebumps to even remember. I will leave you with the opening credits, of the second season of this show.
The song is so awesome! And it is a mainstream sounding rock, but the lyrics are quite profound! Just watch the last line of the french subtitles:
"Donne-moi ton corps et ton âme"
"Give me your body and your soul". That's deep. (sort of) (if you are not the creepy kind of people...)
I would translate the whole thing, but that would make this post geeky to tenth potency!
woah! Almost forgot! "FLCL" is played often in Cartoon Network, but it doesn't have a fixed time, since its only 6 episodes, so just go to www.adultswim.com and find "shows" and then schedules, or whatever. Sometimes they play them all together in one night, which is good, to keep the crazyness under controle.
While "Full Metal Alchemist" is played Monday thru Thursdays at 1:00 AM (Puerto Rico! Time) And on Saturdays at 11:30 PM.
And Now I'm fucked, because next Saturday 9th two new shows are premiering, and I can't believe I'm going to watch them. One is "Bleach", about a boy who can see souls, and a girl who gives him the powers to keep them at bay. And the other is "Trinity Blood" about vampires, but I don't know more...
Hope you liked. Hope you see them.
I wanted to share this with you, people. Because I want to know who watches these kind of things. I never liked ANIME, you know, japan animation, I stuck with the american neatness. Toy Story, The Lion King, The Justice League, X-men, the classics Tom and Jerry or even classier Bugs Bunny. I didn't like the washed look of many of japanesse animation, I actually hated the messy and "real" way in which it was drawn. But then, came Pokemon, yes, I watched Pokemon. Why? Because it was interesting to see different "animals" have powers and battle, nothing different than the X-men. Pokemon has all japanese in it, the action, the melodrama, and mild violence... and no blood. Then I discovered Samurai Jack, an american show, from a russian creator, (the same guy who created Dexter's Laboratory) with lots of japanese influence! Oh, and even thought I didn't watch it often, I liked it a lot. Again, no blood. Then, my devirgination on Anime continued with the awesomely beautiful movie Spirited Away, so much poetry and vibrance in the drawings, I was... indescribably flabbergasted. So by now my resistance to it was waning. And finally came The Teen Titans, it is american animation japaniziced! If there is such a thing. The bright colors of american, with the abstractness of japanese.
Adultswim in Cartoon Network has corrupted me. I still am not too deep, but I'm going down hard. I was introduced to the series: "FLCL" (pronounced "foolycooly", you figure out what it means, and if you thought of sex, well, it may be). This is actually a miniseries of SIX episodes! My brother was like: "Joel, I think that even YOU would like this series". I don't know how he knew that it would, but he knew! Because I loved it! It is such a fast paced story. There are SO many details that if you look away you may loose, some little things that make the characters alive. And of course, the story! The first episode starts with an girl seducing a younger boy under a bridge. Then the boy narrates: "nothing happens in this town...". And then some weird, even older girl comes in a vespa bike and hits the boy in the head with an electric guitar. What the fuck!? And with that I was hooked. Then things started to sprout from the boys head. The boy falls in love with the girl. The girl uncovers her truth. A robot with an angelic complex. There is always a sexual tension in the atmosphere. And some lots of non-sensical shit that is simply the best characterization. And best of all, the comedy, the music and the beautiful drawings... You must watch it. And I happened to find a video! A comercial from Adultswim. Watch and judge.
This next one, is a montage with a song from the White Stripes, "I fell in love with a girl", but it's not from the show; but still it captures a lot of the crazyness and heart of this show.
Now. There is a second show I want to talk about, because it is the one that finally made me love ANIME. And this show is: Full Metal Alchemist. The same thing happened: "Joel, I think you will like this show". I was like: "Another one!" And, yes, ashamed to accept it, I loved it and I couldn't help it. This is a 52-episode show about two brothers who study alchemy and are trying to find the Philosopher's Stone (if you read Harry Potter you know what it is, kinda). They want it because they're bodies have been displaced. One of the brothers has no body, his soul is embeded into a suit of armor, while the other is missing an arm. How did this happen? Well, it is complicated. The whole show is complicated, is has a very tight plot with scheming political projects; inhuman bad guys whose names are the seven deadly sins; there is a vengeful, scarred guy who kills alchemists in the name of God; full of religious references, and morals; lots of blood; but there is also the subjects of "love above all things" and the rites of passage from boy to man. A very complete series, full of imagery, comedy and tears! you will cry, I'm sure! Gosh! I get goosebumps to even remember. I will leave you with the opening credits, of the second season of this show.
The song is so awesome! And it is a mainstream sounding rock, but the lyrics are quite profound! Just watch the last line of the french subtitles:
"Donne-moi ton corps et ton âme"
"Give me your body and your soul". That's deep. (sort of) (if you are not the creepy kind of people...)
I would translate the whole thing, but that would make this post geeky to tenth potency!
woah! Almost forgot! "FLCL" is played often in Cartoon Network, but it doesn't have a fixed time, since its only 6 episodes, so just go to www.adultswim.com and find "shows" and then schedules, or whatever. Sometimes they play them all together in one night, which is good, to keep the crazyness under controle.
While "Full Metal Alchemist" is played Monday thru Thursdays at 1:00 AM (Puerto Rico! Time) And on Saturdays at 11:30 PM.
And Now I'm fucked, because next Saturday 9th two new shows are premiering, and I can't believe I'm going to watch them. One is "Bleach", about a boy who can see souls, and a girl who gives him the powers to keep them at bay. And the other is "Trinity Blood" about vampires, but I don't know more...
Hope you liked. Hope you see them.
Monday, September 04, 2006
The Crocodile Hunter Dies in Freak Accident
Yes my friends, one of Australia's (and probably the world's) most enthusiastic environmentalists, died. Steve Irwing "The Crocodile Hunter" died doing what he loved to do, and that was animals and nature.The circumstances of his death are very particular and wierd, and rare, but also very true. A crocodile wasn't Irwing's demise, no, it was one the seafloor's most passive animals, a stingray. A stingray? Yes. Stingrays are not deadly.
Yes they have a sting that can grow up to eight to ten inches, but, they have to be frightened to use them, and it's usually not a death strike. But, when this stingray caught Irwing on the chest it punctured his heart, and it was over.Rest in Peace.
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