The Train Goes Slow in the Rain

I discovered on a Wednesday not long ago, that the train goes slow when it rains. A trip that usually takes 25 minutes took 35; one more minute per station, how do I know these calculations? Well, I'm weird and think of these things while they happen (or later after). (hahaha laterafter).

I walk up to the train station (which is on its own a 13-17 minute walk from my house), and as it always happens, I see the train already departing. Fuck. I say. Fuck. I hate it when I see it and I'm just so unable to catch it. I rather wait an eternity than to actually see it leave before getting to the station. I rather be blind before seeing it depart without me. (So dramatic, Joel. Thanks, Joel. You're welcome).

So, as it was a cloudy day, and it was only 2:twenty-ish pm, the train was running in intervals of 11 minutes. And again I cursed. Damn. Fuck. When I got to the platform there was nobody. Nobody. Of course, everyone had already left in the stupid train, leaving me! Bastards. The banner with the moving, red letters said: "The next train to Sagrado Corazón (for some reason there are lots of space between that and this): arrives in 8 minutes". Shit. Oh, well. The life of pedestrians. So, I waited.

In the meantime I started gnawing the nail of my middle finger, as it was too long. I'm also weird like that. I keep one nail long so that I can scratch pleasurably whenever I want. If I had all my nails short (and believe me, after biting them, what's left is only good for caressing, not scratching) I would die of itch. I would. And it's not like I am prone to itches, but sometimes you itch, here, there, somewhere, sometime, and you just have to. I took a bite out of it and spat it over the hand rail, and wondered if the people that were under the platform (its an elevated platform bytheway) noticed a piece of clear nail falling from the sky. What was left on the tip of my finger was an askew uneven design of nail, it poked out on one corner, like the tip of a dagger. "El próximo tren hacia Sagrado Corazón llega en 3 minutos". Three minutes. So, again I went onto my nail, I looked at it at different angles, against the cloudy sky, or in the shadow, I bent it, it hurt, I flicked it with another (shorter) nail, it made a snapping sound. " arrives in 1 minute". And that's when I heard the train bells. Very particular bell too. Very train-like, hopefully you have heard train bells, it's like (oh my god, a revelation just came to me!) it's like a school bell!

I get in the train and there is someone in my seat in the back. More quiet cursing. Asshole. So I sat on the seats of the middle, next to the window. As the train pulls off, a light rain starts to fall. Then the rain presses on harder; it beat the steal ceiling of train hard. And then, the train slowed down. I could see the rails clearly. I could have counted them if I wanted, instead I read a book I brought. Never did I realize that I was going to be attacked by a tree.

The train has a gutter on the side of the ceiling. When it is not raining it drips water, lots of it actually, maybe from some cooling system or maybe its air conditioning residue, I don't know (I should ask). So, when it rains the gutters spills gallons of water, and since the gutter has an opening next to the door, sometimes people get wet.

So it was the smoothest ride ever on the train. I could hear the screech of the metallic wheels as they turned on the rails, it went on forever, of course, the slowness of the train made sure of that, but also, the sound was milder, not as teeth-cracking as it sometimes is.

I arrived to the station. It was a station that I had never stopped before. It was the first station after the train goes underground. It was pretty. But, also, interesting, because of the chute-like tunnel from which the train comes. It looked like a covered slide, like the ones in water parks... But it had the rough surface of concrete, and a cryptic feeling. This is far in the tunnel though, the station is actually quite pretty and comfy, with high, bowely (if that's a word), church-like ceiling.

Anyway. I got out of the train, and went to the University. Needless to say that my shoes, my socks, the bottom of my pants up to my knees, and my backpack got soaked, despite the umbrella. You see, that's why I love huge umbrellas. Not huge, hugeamungous umbrellas, even when they are nuisance to carry. As I'm walking I can see only my feet and some space in front of me, because the umbrella is covering half of my head and face (well, it was raining extremely hard). The rain was so hard that the whole view turned into a gray, unfocused haze. And then it happened. The tree attacked me. It happened like in the movies. A movie of a natural disaster that you see trees overturning and branches fall, and you say, "that doesn't actually happen to people", or "it happens but no one really sees it happening". Well, it happened to me. The branch that fell from the tree was at least 24 inches long, and maybe it had like an inch in diameter... It was gray, and it looked old and empty on the inside. So I guess it was a dead branch hanging to the tree by mere instinct. But when the rain fell on it, it became more brittle and it fell right in front of me!!! I said: "whoa, shit", and jumped backwards. I couldn't help to look up, even in the rain. "The tree's attacking!". The branch snapped in two as soon as it hit the ground.

And then, the day went on. Wet. Gray. Beautiful. I did what I had to do at school, (I left at like 8:30), and the night passed with no more experiences. Except, that I think I saw someone that I knew from high school on the bus from Pizza Hut (oh yeah, I went to Pizza Hut and (me and my friend) and we ordered hamburger meat on it, and they gave us italian sausage, we thought that they thought that we would think that we didn't know the difference between the ingredients, but we knew the difference, but we ate the pizza anyway because we were starving); so, I think I saw a guy I knew in high school. I think he looked at me for some time and recognized me, and I did the same but I wasn't sure. But before I could confirm he was who I thought he was, he stepped out the bus. I said to my friend: "see if he limps", "limp?", he asked, "yes, he limped in school, because of a surgery", "oh". But neither of us could see behind the glass window of the bus in the dark.

Quite an adventure. Slow trains. Wrong pizza. Limping memories. Gray rain. Tomb-like tunnels. Trees attacking. (Treebeard!)...

This was a boring post, wasn't it?

Natalie Portman Again!

Natalie Portman (*Joel drools*)... she is hot even with short or no hair or pink fake hair...

Cavities

POEM: Poem

As part of what's becoming a Poetry-hating series of poems, this is the first poem that came about. It is rightfully titled: Poem. And it hates itself. Sort of.

Poem

by: Joel Feliciano
©2004/2006


Literate verses will not be found
between this and the next stanza,
they will have no rhyme,
they will have no sound,
Just a huge extravaganza
to tell people how I go around
writing the most literal words,
so they get meanings of mine
without hassles in their minds;
for this poem is for the worlds,
for all who long simplicity...
its for all whom I'd like to astound
by the nerve of this letter surround
which wants to keep you on and on,
reading with no thinking of before,
and enjoy the beauty of a con
with such delight, and credibility
and such passion, that you know
there won't be another stanza,
as I said on the verses before,
because this whole long rhyme blow
is just mechanics and lucidity,
and sun, and sound, and music, and fun.
So, soon will end this bonanza,
as your eyes must have already found:
this poem's end its near to the ground
and I hope its purpose was drawn.


October 2004

POEM: Postmodern Joel

(This is a repost of a poem that I wrote in a very "elongated" post some time ago. I am reposting it because it deserves to be on its own, it is from that acclaimed (*snickers*) post titled: Joel: Poetry-Hater. By this time I had fully understood what postmodernism was all about, hence the title of this poem.)

I, (Poetry-hater, rhyme-lover, postmodern, bittersweet writer...) present you!... chan chan chan chan chan! (drumroll): a poem by me.


Postmodern Joel
(a cultural poem that is vital)

by: Joel Feliciano
©2004-2006

One day in May, I discovered
what postmodernism meant.
It was such a truth uncovered
that my grand mind only dreamt

of a boy who struggled
trying to find words to say
for a poem that juggled
in absudity and dismay.

Joel, the boy was called
by his brother and sister
by his missis and mister,
until they were appalled

by his postmodernism phase;
when he started to tatoo
intricate poems on his face
caused by an “evil craze”

inside his mind and index finger.
To his yard he darted one day
before lunch, on the grass he lay
rhyming words which lingered,

so they could have a nice sound
and impress many masters.
But he lacked cultural ground,
held nothing but disasters.

So he waltzed to the library,
took some pretty looking book
that had cultural poetry.
He read, and read and then went red

‘cause he understood nothing
he intended to understand.
He came back home pedalling,
and started to tatoo his hand.

He stopped half way up, couldn’t do it:
write culturally about his town,
or him, or whatever was around;
and so follows, what he came up with:

after waking from a deep sleep in May:
Postmodern Joel, it was titled,
a cultural poem that was vital
‘cause of its absudity and dismay.


October 8, 2004
8:35 PM

Two crushes: Ana María Polo and Natalie Portman

I think I'm in love.

This is Ana María Polo. She's a judge. And she has a show like Judge Judy, or Judge Joe Brown, it is called: Caso Cerrado (Case Closed) and it is an awesome show because SHE is in it. I watch it almost every day. Isn't she the most interesting woman ever?! I shouldn't be having crushes on older women... But it is a crush, only a crush. I know I will never see her in real life. (Or who knows, probably I could) (You see, I still have hopes).

I've found pictures of her where she looks a little ample on the hips, and she is horrible at posing, but it doesn't matter. I don't care. Oh gosh. Her eyes are so charismatic and forgiving almost, they have a deep, true "something" in them. But ooh, she is though on the court and she will tell you to shut up and if you do not shut up in her court. And when she slams that wooden hammer. Oooh! Her authority is unpresedented. I think I'm in love with her toughness. I don't know. I don't know! Why is love so blind! Why!






But wait! There's more!







You know this girl?

Yeah you do! Natalie Portman. Hottest girl in the world. The less make-up she wears, the more beautiful she looks. Have you seen her in the movie Garden State? If you haven't then you MUST see it, and see HER. She is the most enchanting girl in that movie... as opposed to her queen Amidala in the first episode of Star Wars (but that was a mistake, I know, and she knows).

Just look at her. Look at her smile! She smiles and laughs with the hugest, widest mouth, and with so much excitement that it makes me smile even when I don't know what she's laughing about. Just watch her. Just do. Yes. I would fall on her feet if I saw her. (No, I really wouldn't, I'm too shy for a performance like that). Well, I got to go. I have to quit looking for pictures of her. I have to quit looking AT the pictures of her. Oh if could just kiss her cheek.... *sighs*


Yeah, I'm in love.

(pictures courtesy of yahoonews and telemundo.com)

Adivinanza

If the Diet Sprite Zero has no calories, no sodium, no carbohidrates and no sugar, then what is it?

Si la Diet Sprite Zero no tiene calorías, ni sodio, ni carbohidratos, ni azúcar, entonces ¿qué es?

A new species!

Scientists have discovered a new animal in the waters of the South Pacific. And it is so particular that they have had to make a whole new family of taxonomy to classify it.

Interesting isn't it? It is also blind. To put my imagination into gear, I'm guessing the hairs are very sensitive, and with them it attracts its prey and walks and finds its way.

Anyway, here's the LINK to read more.

WEIRD STORY: Joel and the Beanstalk

Joel and the Beanstalk

by: Joel Feliciano
©2003/2006

This is a boy, a very strange, enchanted boy, he wandered very far, very far, over land and sea. A little shy and sad of eye, but very wise is he. And then one day, one magic day he passed this way, and while we spoke of many things, fools and kings, this I said to him: "The greatest thing you'll ever learn is just to plant, to plant beans.

And then he planted the beans on his yard, and a beanstalk grew ever bigger, because he used floral grow, and because of that, the beanstalk had many orchid flowers on many of its ends. But the boy, who's name is Joel, couldn't stand the beautiful smell of the orchids and told a friend of his, named Jack, to cut it down, to chop it down into pieces. But then Jack climbed the beanstalk. Halfway on it, he saw an eagle, a bald eagle (it was actually bald, the chicken skin and all). And the eagle said that he was no bird to be so close to the clouds, and of course, Jack knew that. But the evil eagle used its beak to cut the beanstalk under Jack and he fell through ages of air. Somehow, Jack survived, he was sure he was going to find some golden eggs in the sky, but he just had a bad luck day.

So Jack cut the beanstalk into pieces. Into squares. And brought them to the kitchen. He brought water to a boil and put the pieces in it. Little green stuff floating in plain boiling water. He then poured two entire cans of tomato sauce and some very teary onions (the onions were actualy crying, although not because of their own acidic gas, but because they were going to melt like something that melts horribly in boiling water), and then he put the top on the pot. An hour later his recipe was done: broccoli and cheese soup with beanstalk stems (or whatever), and he gave some to Joel. Joel, the strange enchanted boy, who wandered very far over the land and the sea, didn't like soup, so he said: "I don't like soup..." But Jack insisted, he said that this soup was very good, and that it didn't have the consistency of a normal soup, that it was more like eating (having) cream of wheat.

So Joel said: "Yes, ok, I'll try it". Joel took the plate and looked at the white, creamy stuff in it, that had some red because of the tomato sauce, and of course the grean pieces of beanstalk. And Joel took a spoonful of sugar and let the medicine go down in the most delightful way. (Joel was a sicky boy, and didn't like medicine). Joel said that the soup that was not a soup was very good. But then, he's eyes began to swell, (well, not he's eyes, but the skin over and underneath of them). And he asked: "What did you put into this creamy soup of wheat?". Jack answered: "I put some latinamerican horse glue", and he laughed and evil, booming laugh. "You know I'm allergic to glue!", Joel said. "I KNOW!", said Jack, and added: "Oh, I also put some of that beanstalk you made me cut into pieces". And Joel said: "What?! I'm allergic to orchid too, duuuude! Do you want to kill me?!" "DUH!", answered Jack.

And then Joel called his sister to ask her what was her favorite movie, because he didn't remember, and he wanted to go to the grave knowing that (for some reason). And then she said: "My favorite movie is... (and she actually paused for the whole time it took you to read this parenthesis) The Matriz 3, (and zhe actually zaid Matriz with a Z, which iz very annoying). And Joel cried: "Nooooo! That horrible movie! I am really going to die alone in this world". It was more of a statement than a question. "Is there not going to be a better triquel?!"

And then on his cellphone caller ID appeared a number of 500 digits. He answered, and it was a Korean boy who said something in Japanese: "Konichiwa". Joel did not understand and said: "Who the fuck is this?! How did you get my number?!". And the boy said: "Konichiwa". Joel said: "You calling me names, huh, you fucker!". And the boy goes: "Arigato". "I'm gougnt to fuck you up, bastard!". And the boy's voice changes into a deep hollow voice, almost god-like really, and now he speaks in Spanish: "Yo sé el dolor que tienes. (I know the pain you have), porque yo lo he sentido también (for I have felt it too), y te voy a ayudar a sanarte (and I'm going to help you heal), pero tienes que comer mierda (but you have to eat shit)". [A shit-eater in Spanish is someone very arrogant]. And Joel said: "But I'm a shit-eater come-mierda!". But the boy, who's not a boy, and has a god-like voice said: "No, tienes que comer mierda real (no, but you have to eat actual shit), y no cualquier mierda, tienes que comer mierda de goldfish (and not just any kind of shit, you have to eat goldfish shit), y luego acostarte en una cama rosas rojas (and then you have to sleep one a bed of red roses).

And Joel, spent all his savings on ten dozens of roses and a big old goldfish (with a fishtank combo pack, it was an offer: 19.95). And he stared at the fish, and fed him huge amounts of food for a long time, until the fish finally began to take a dump. Joel, took the fish out of the water by the tail. The fish was wriggling, gills gasping for... for... water; and the thin strand of shit dangling. Joel slurped the brown string of shit off of the fish, as if it were a spagetti. And then he laid over the petals of the roses.

The morning after Jack found Joel on the floor lying over a thousand red roses, with his eyes swollen like Quasimodo's. The autopsy revealed that Joel had died from food poisoning, the boy-who-was-not-a-boy's-with-god-like-voice's recipe/prescription was for orchid-beanstalk food poisoning, and he did not mention (or didn't know) that fish shit had very small particles of latinamerican horse glue (due to the fact that horses branched out of goldfish in the evolutionary chain).

The morals of this story are: Do not buy fish tank combo offers in the pet shop when you know you may die soon; don't tell all you i'llnesses to your friends, they might take advantage of them; and of course, don't take candy from stranger, specially when the candy are beans, and specially when that stranger is me.



December 2003

POEMA: Barquitos en la Noche

Barquitos en la Noche

(Boats in the Nighttime)

por: Joel Feliciano
© 1998/2006


La inocencia infantil brilla
Toda la noche, todo el día.
Una bengala infinita
Que se apaga tras los años de la vida;
Pero cuando aún sigue presente
Es tan bella como la risa.
La inocencia infantil brilla
Pero el destino la arranca,
La espanta.
Pero cuando aún sigue viva
Es tan hermosa como la sinceridad
Que se da o no se encuentra.
Es... como barquitos en la noche
Cuando bajas de la montaña
Y miras la ciudad encendida...
Que alumbra sólo en la oscuridad,
Y así mismo brilla:
Barquitos en la noche
Navegando, sin regreso, a la eternidad.



Octubre 1998

In the meantime...

In the meantime some teen/adolescent poetry (altho I think it is one of my best pre-university poems). Next Post/Previous (whatever).

I mentioned it in a past post CLICK HERE

About porn

I wonder how people will react if I post some pornographic writing here. Something that someone would find in... I don't know... a porno magazine. Although of course it is not totally porn, it is literary porn, though graphic. I wonder if people would get offended by it, or gasp at my nerve of publishing it. Or I wonder how the image of "me" will change in people who personally know me. I wonder. I shall post it. Soon. A first chapter at least. And see what happens. In the meantime...