(This parenthesis was added after the whole post was written: the following is "The Garbage Truck Story Intro")

In what may seem like heaps of ages, I have not seen the garbage truck taking the garbage from the garbage cans, which are in the garbage compartment, out in the front of my house.

The other night I saw it.

Well, it was not night, it was dark, but it was 4:fifty-something AM. What was I doing up at that time? Well, I happened to wake up because I was very thirsty. I think I was dreaming that I was in the Grand Theft Auto game again, killing a lot of people, and it must have been very exhausting... So I woke up and hear these heavy thumps. Bung, bung! "What the hell". I go to the kitchen, drink my water, and as I do, I peer through the curtains, and there they are: the garbage people, picking up the trash with the horrendous garbage truck eating it... It is so early! Why do they do this so early? I think it was Monday or Tuesday... Are garbage people ashamed of what they're doing? They must get pretty good money. Are they hiding in the darkness? Or do they do it so early as to protect us, mortals, from the horrificatios of the garbage truck?

I remember seeing this truck every week when I was in High School. Nasty little shit. A huge platform comes out of the dark, sticky, fetid, putrid bowels of the truck, and it covers the trash bags, and sweeps them up into its unholy, unwordy (unmentionable), endless place inside. That place must be bottomless, seriously. How does it keep so much rubbish in? When do people know that the truck has had enough for one morning?

(this parenthesis was added after the whole post was written: The following is the unedited STORY: "The Garbage Truck", enjoy)


The end

Hmm. I got inspired there. I shall title that (of course): The garbage truck.

Oh, almost forgot, I drank my water and went back to sleep. How anticlimactic.

Yes. I'm here to bring down a beast. I know. I don't know how this post is going to be... constructed, hopefully the disappointment and... rage will let it have some kind of sense. (If you don't want to read this whole thing, just scroll down and find the capitalized sentence) (I needed a mystery too).

I read the illustrated version of The Da Vinci Code, of course, after all the hype, I wasn't just going to imagine all the things mentioned in the book, when they were all real (and by real I mean the places, the paintings and artifacts) (and by real I also mean that I may or may not believe what is written on the book, that is of little importance, I'm here to talk about the mechanics of the book and the movie, and, of course, there is no way of eluding the contents and the contexts).

I'll start again. I read the illustrated version of The Da Vinci Code to understand better what the places and paintings this story talks about. I knew some of them art works, that happens when you finish school in an art high school. Also, I want to make clear, that, even when I'm not an expert in creative writing, I'm aware of some writing techniques as I read a book.

So, I'll have to start again. I read the illustrated version of the before mentioned book, and believe me, the design of the book, and the pictures are the best part of it. I was trying to give this book some slack, but after watching the movie, I can only see the flaws of the book (and the horrendous mistakes of the movie). The book is not a complete waste. There is an enthraling mystery: an old man is dead, in the ultrasecure Louvre museum, and is found in a very freaky state: naked and with a series of symbols and codes over and around his body that are meant to be deciphered by the right (or "worthy") people. Catchy, I know. So we're good for now. Quick paced action and description; strong, almost gorey scenes... Raunchy, I know. Then, the tension starts building (and remember this is the book): as Robert Langdon (mastermind hero) is called by a cryptologist Sophie Neveu (clueless educated girl) as Langdon is talking with Captain Fache (brutally sanctified French police) and she is right there giving Langdon the phone for him to call her. Get it? Well, it gets more complicated. Langdon calls and Sophie's recorded message answers: "You are in grave danger, don't tell Fache" (and in my head I could hear the hypertesitive music of a movie) (hypertensitive, gosh, what a word). And then, they escape by throwing a tracer out the window and fell on a truck. The police had secretly put in Langdon's clothes. Why? Because he is prime suspect. Why? Because of the balls of Fache. So here there. There's tension, as the police realizes Langdon and Sophie are still in the Louvre museum.

The book keeps on and on, with near misses from the police at catching Langdon and Sophie, which is actually what KEEPS the narrative going, or, better said, it is about the only action that there is in the movie: them running away from the police as they try to solve the puzzle. And then, there's is the history text. Gosh! There are so many unimportant details of things, and they're not memorable details either, poetry-filled or beautifully described, no. They are actual details of, let's say, an ice pick: "it is s long narrow object with a diamond point made to break large blocks of ice in the Alaskan coast, in the 1930" (I just made that up, bytheway, just to illustrate the verbose-ity of the history in the book). So, that slows the book. Still, there was the mystery. And that helped. But, don't try to find something literary in this book, there are almost no metaphors or hyperboles or any other figures of speech that are not literal or plain visual. That's not totally bad, but sometimes it can be just plain boring.

So, book, I give it a B. For interesting mystery, for heavy plot, an interesting character (the albino monk, which, for me was the best character in the book, and to whom I was the most fond of, even though he was the main villain) (but villains are always the best, aren't they?) (and he was the only one I really cared for in the book) (sad that he dies in the end...) (oops, I ruined it). B, for lengthy historical babble, which in the end IS the book.

Now to the movie.

DO NOT WATCH THE MOVIE. PLEASE!

Do not. It is the stupidest movie I have seen in the theater since... "In The Bedroom" (I have to say, though, I must watch "In the bedroom" again). There is nothing, nothing going on. I read the book a year ago, and I watched the movie last night. I was confused in the movie. Just imagine how a non-reader was. The scene I just recounted above has more tension than the movie (and note that I wasn't trying to give any tension to it). EVERY scene that I read in the book and said: "oooooh, this would make and interesting movie scene", was obscured, omitted, dimmed, toned down, or down right cut. The editing is nasty. In movies there is something called (well, I don't remember how it is called, but you'll see what I mean) which is when someone cuts scene 1 to scene 2 to scene 1 to make known that two things are happening and/or to make some entralling tension. None of it happened in the movie. NONE. The book has Sooooooooooooo many. Not even the soundtrack had a spark of tension in it. I'm sure that if they had put some JAWS music in it it would have been so much better. Seriously. The movies is two hours and a half of endless texty/testamental (or testamentical) dialogs, and unsuccessful "car chases". The Amazing Race (read previous post) had better editing, music and "pedestrian chases" than The Da Vinci Code movie. God!

The script only cared for the content of the book (which I already said was meaningless, because it is fiction, despite what I (or you) may or may not believe). And when the script only cared for the content it forgot about the rest of what comprises a movie. First the tension, there was none, none in soundtrack, nor editing, not even in what the characters say, because they discovered and they said it, they didn't keep anything in. Second, there was a hugely underused of settings slash backgrounds, which were many; as a result, we see mostly headshots and cliché tilts or pans of whatever church or monument the characters entered. Third, the movie didn't grasp a constant tone slash atmosphere, at times it felt like a film noir who-done-it, at other times it went all Sixth Sense on you (I'm a ghost), at other times it went really deep into things: extreme close-ups à la CSI, or then it went epic, like the Lord of the Rings, with some very interesting flashbacks (which actually looked awesome) (but awesome for 10 second is not enough). And forth, and most importantly, there was no symbiotic/ecologic relationship between the character and me (or the audience for that matter, except Sir Ian Mackellen's character, and it still falls short on how much you can love him (as a good guy or villain) (yes, he's a villain, and I said I loved villains) (the albino was a very interesting character, though underused/underdeveloped, and, what's up with an albino with blue eyes? aren't they supposed to be red?) I never once cared for Langdon or Sophie, or the albino or anyone, and that's bad. It reminds me of The Talented Mr. Ripley, where Ripley the protagonist villain, at the end of the movie wins after all he put his victims through, he wins; we cared for his victims, that's why we (I) liked the movie. But that doens't happen in DaVinci Code. Again. Nothing happens, or nothing exciting for that matter.

Well, I've grown tired of bringing down such a box office smash hit movie, but it's true, it was 6.50 dollars wrongly spent. I should have kept it for the X-MEN tomorrow, even if it is a bad movie, Mystique is going to be there, and The Angel, and Magneto, their only presence is just worth it.

bye.

Last Wednesday was the Amazing Race Season Finale (La Carrera Asombrosa, I love the title in Spanish)... I have never been so engaged into a tv show. I saw myself screaming at the tv, yelling to the people to hurry the fuck up, to stop bickering, to not go that way... It was such an exciting show, gosh, something like watching a really good game of basketball, volleyball, football, or whatever sport you like, and your team won the last game, after being the last team the year before... Even though you are not part of the team, you feel it. How does this happen? I don't know.

Well, it happened to me with The Amazing Race. What I like the most is the fact that they have to race around the world. To go into totally different countries, with different languages and obstacles, and the best part is that everyone does it. So, I chose two team, since the first time I started to watch this season. I cheered for these two: Fran and Barry, 60-year-olds. They did pretty well in the race. They even won one of the legs of it (the rest were won by only 3 other teams, there were 12). But I missed that episode, I would have been so happy for them. Why did I pick them? Well because I always go for the ones with the hardest odds, and because they looked like pretty nice people, deserving to win. But I also missed the episode in which they got eliminated from the race.

But, I had chosen two teams, remember, in case one of them got eliminated. The other team was: BJ and Tyler, 25-year-olds, dubbed as hippies (which they are, kinda), they seemed more like really crazy guys to me, but very, very in tone with everyone around. See their picture? They look so... out of place... out of time... But they are really intelligent and well spirited, and they were, of the whole bunch of teams, the ones who got along the best with each other as opposed to the rest. You just had to see them. So I also chose them.

At one point in the race they ended up in last place, I was so down... because the editing of the show is made so that the climax is very... climactic... And so, they were running to the "pit stop" (if you have seen La Carrera Asombrosa you know) doomed. Until the host of the show tells them: "BJ and Tyler, you're the last team to arrive", and you can see their disapointment, but the hosts continues: "but this is a non-elimination pit-stop, so you're still in the race", and instantly their faces changed into the most optimistic smiles. But the host was not done: "However, you have to give me all of your money and possessions, and only keep the clothes ur wearing and your passports". And that is just wrong. They're the last team, and now they're broke in a foreign country. But, what was amazing was that in the very next episode they finished first.

In the season finale, there was one last final challenge, to put the flags of the countries they had just been in, in order. They were up against the team dubbed: "the frat boys" (they looked fratty I guess, clichés and stereotypes are there for some reason...) (which I didn't like, because of being frats). The frat boys had all of the flags up, but they were in incorrect order. Whereas the hippies had all but one flag. And, again, the editors of this show are awesome, they've put it all together in a way that, we could see the two teams racing at this challenge at the same time. I was screaming. "¡Dale, dale, corre, corre, avanza, no te pares, esa, esa es, no, no esa no, corre!" It was something out of the Price is Right, have u seen that? It is crazy how people in the audience scream! Anyway, I was screaming, cheering, at the edge of my seat. And then! And theeen! The judge says to the hippies: "that is the correct order", and they ran to the end of the race. And it was just great, to see them win. I'm sure it felt so hugeamongously good to have won. My knees wouldn't have been able to support me. I would have fallen to the floor in exhaustion, in ecstasy for what I had accomplished. The hippies fell on their knees, or one of them actually, and I don't know if he prayed... It doesn't matter what mattered was the emotion, the excitment. The best part was that they weren't in the race just for the money, but also for the tour around the world, and they had enjoyed it so much... I, on the other hand, besides being glad and happy that they won, also envied them, not for the million dollars they won (which is never a bad thing), but because of the race around the world, just like they said, I admired them for that. And even if they hadn't won, I'm sure they would have been happy to have raced and jumped from country to country...

Fran and Barry
Eric and Jeremy (the frat boys)
BJ and Tyler (the hippies)

Now, who wants to be my partner for next season? Come on, I'm accepting resumés...

----One of my stories is now published in Yolanda Arroyo's Boreales page. Go there. It's in Spanish, so get those dictionaries... Title: OTRO SITIO
----Y para los españolohablantes: Un cuento de los míos publicado en el blog BOREALES de Yolanda Arroyo.

you can click HERE or HERE
puedes click AQUÍ o AQUÍ.

Mc Donald's
San Patricio Plaza
5:00 PM
Wednesday 10, 2006

Joel watches the value menu from a safe distance. After a minute, the guy in the registers says: "buenas tardes". And Joel nods as to make reference that he has not made a choice yet. There was no one at the register. The guy is now speaking to a girl co-worker. Joel slowly approaches the counter and overhears something she says about the guy's eyes; Joel dismisses this and says "hola". "Hola", they say. And that's when he notices the guy has the clearest of gray eyes. Which was probably what the girl was praising of him.

Joel orders.
"4.39", the guy says.

Joel waits, absentmindedly for his food. He is watching (without really seeing) the kitchen, he is thinking of random stuff. He is probably dreaming of getting the job as a designer, to which he just had an interview for. He is carrying an art tube with some works rolled inside. When the guy at the register says something:

"Are you studying architecture?"
"No. These are just some graphic works, xylographies".
"Ok", the guy says.

A pause. Joel starts dreaming again of working in the awesome graphic design office on the sixth floor the newest building in the area (so new, that it hasn't been completly built yet). When the guy says:

"Are you Puertorican?"
"Yes, I am", Joel says.
"It's just that you have a different accent".
Joel then smiles as he goes on another trip: It has not been the first time someone had asked Joel if he is Puertorican. When he was in Orlando some people didn't believe him until he spoke Spanish. And when he was working as a waiter in Plaza las Américas, lots of people would ask the same thing, even his boss asked him. Apparently Joel has a south-american accent, or maybe a north-american accent, people can't really point it out (except of course "Joel, are you Argentinian?"). Finally Joel, laughs.
"It's true", the guy says.
"People are always saying that", Joel says humbly, as his food is delivered, and he takes off.


So, am I really Puertorican? Or am I an addopted child from the edges of the Amazon river. The world may never know. See you next time for another episode of the... Twilight Zone. Tuninuuu.

Who's going to wash the dishes?

Not it. Not it.

Who's going to cook?

Not it.

Who's going to play tag?

Tag, you're it.

The trees attack again. This time, it was not raining, it was as sunny and unclouded as it could ever be. (If you want to read their first attack, click here).

Last Saturday I went to the university because I had to take the PAEG (now called EXADEP, which is the equivalent of the GRE but bilingual). I had to be there at seven thirty AM, because the test started at 8. SEVEN AM!! So much time has past since I last got up from bed before 8 AM. Ok. So, I set the alarm for 6:30. I went to bed at 3:30 AM. The alarm sounded as if only 15 minutes of sleep had passed. I hit snooze. Seven minutes later I hit snooze again. Seven more. Snooze. It is now 6:44. Snooze. Snooze. I finally got out of bed at almost 7:00 o'clock. Rushed to get dressed and brush teeth. 7:10. Grabbed a peach yogurt that was in the fridge and ran out. RAN out. I walk for two minutes, when I sense something missing. Fuck. Money and the train card. So I had to run back. I finally closed the door of my house at 7:17, calculated the time from there to the train station: "I should be there by 7:30, I HAVE to be there by 7:30". In the meantime, I was praying in my head, "please God, hold the train until 7:35, but no later than that, please please". So I was trotting all the way, gulping the yogurt, on the itchy morning sun (have you notice that the morning sun when it hits you it itches for some reason?, or maybe it's me, hmm). One, two, three, four, one, two, three, four, walking fast, half way I check my cellphone, I'm still on time, 7:22. Finally, the moment of more weariness arrived. It was the moment when the train was visible from a distance. My head was a split screen:

please, please, please, please, | The train passes every seven
don't let it pass now, don't let | minutes, so, if it started at 7:00
me see it pass by, please God, | next train should be at 7:35
hold it until I get there". | hopefully, hopefully.

So, I accelerated my pace even more, almost ran. A guy was selling hotdogs on the sidewalk (he is new, he settled there a week ago), so I walked again, as to not be branded as: "the guy who was running this morning". But after he was out of sight, it was also out of mind, and I ran. Yes, this time I ran. If I missed this train, chances were high that I was going to be denied the privilege (if it is a privilege, which I think more of as an obligation) of taking the stupid exam.

I arrive to the station. Winded. I take the card out. And still pray in my head: "please, God, I'm still not on the platform, hold it one more minute". Because, it has happened that the train arrives as I'm sliding the card, and it leaves right after I climb the stairs and step onto the platform (and have to wait seven, or 13 minutes for the next). My head was playing jokes on me because I heard the screeching of the wheels as the train stops, but it was just in my head. The moving banner said: "El próximo tren hacia Sagrado Corazón llegará en 5 minutos". Five minutes! Thank God! I checked the clock again, 7:27.

I took the train. I made another calculation, the train arrived at 7:32, it takes 20 minutes to get to school. I shall be there by 7:52, with 8 minutes to hurry through campus. I couldn't read in the train as I often do. I was too hot and too preoccupied. I only fanned myself with a piece of paper and watched the landscape.

Two more stops. The train goes underground. One more stop. Yes. Arrived. Time: 7:52, "Dang, I'm good!". Left or right? Left station exit is a longer way, because I'd have to go around the library and museum, etc. So, right it is. Now, follow the longest, highest, most heavenly looking electric staircase ever in the history of electric staircases. It is huge, and long, and the ceiling is glass, so morning sun goes through. My legs were weary from all the walking, so I just let the steps carry me to the top. I had 8 minutes, I'll get there. I get out of the station, turn on the corner and the University gate is closed! Nooooooo! No no no no nooo! See, that is not the principal gate, that's why it was closed, I always forget that they close it on Saturdays. So, I ran aaaall the way to the other entrance (which is also the left entrance of the train station), ran all the way around the museum, and the library. And then I gave up. "Fuck, damnit!". I kept walking, it was 8:01, kept walking, and got to the building, I had to go to the second floor. A guy was there, he asked: "For the test?", I said excitedly: "Yes!", "Second floor at the end of the hall". A ray of hope sanctified me. I ran up. Ran down the hall. And there they were. Everyone, sitting, waiting. And I, at 8:05, was one time. Phew.

The test was horrible. Grandiose words (in Spanish) that I had never heard before (falaz, oprobio) held me back. And the math part had 40 question to answer in 30 minutes... who the hell resolves mathematical problems in 45 seconds? WHO! And I, that I haven't taken any math since the year 2000, was in a bad disadvantage. I'm not saying any more.

The exam took until almost 1:30 PM. And I decided to go back home and crash like a, like a crasher... And that's when it happened. A tree attacked me. The sun was high in the midday sky, (which for some reason felt really good on the skin, which, by the way, that's how people get sunburn, or sunpoisoned, or sunbaked in the first place, I remember when I looked like a lobster once, my skin was so hard like roasted chicken, hard and red like a lobster shell, and it pinched every time someone touched it, or everytime I lay back. Never leave yourself thrown on the sand on the beach, the sun will hypnotize you and make you fall asleep and then eat you!). So, as I was saying, the sun was full of life. The air was fresh, the university was not at all crowded, the wind blew rather hard. I was walking like a zombie, slow and steady, drinking a Pepsi (stupid vending machine, I pressed Iced Tea and Pepsi came out, bitch), and I said: "ooh, I'll walk under this enormous shade that this tree has". Shouldn't have done it. The wind blew so hard that the leaves rustled, and a series of little yellow flowers fell like snow (and you all should know that I've NEVER seen snow, but I imagine it), they fell like snow, some slowly, like feathers and others like little pebbles, it didn't hurt, but they got into my soda! They wanted to poison me. And then, the biggest blow, a branch! I hear a crack, and the next moment a small branch fell on my shoulder. Ow. It wasn't that bad, really, but this is the second time that trees attack me. I guess I will think it very thoroughly to visit that Sequoia forest... a sequoia branch will definitely split me in half.

I went back to the train. Slept all the way. Zombie-walked home. Went by the hotdog guy, surely they were thinking things about me, I was too tired and too zombievified to care and to imagine... 25 minutes later I was home. 10 minutes later I was dreaming of sex.

-No.
-Pero mami este es uno de los mejores juegos que hay.
-Que no. Mira eso. Eso lo que tiene es violencia nada más. Eso no trae nada bueno. ¿Qué es lo que va a aprender la juventud de hoy en día?
-Pues mira este...
-No, mira eso qué feo.
-Mami, yo no puedo contigo. Contigo no se puede. Contigo no se puede salir a comprar nada. La próxima vez vengo con abuela. Porque contigo no se puede.
-¿Tu sabes lo que le pasó a tu abuela por estar comprando esos juegos? [initeligible]

[tiempo después]
-Raúl, este juego es mejor que ese que tienes ahí. Mira que tu no sabes correr carreras bien. En este juego tienes que buscar [ininteligible] y te va a gustar.
-¿Pero no es difícil pa mi?
-No, chico, eso no es difícil na. Si eso hay unas cosas que hacen [aquí él hizo sonidos como de explosiones].
-¿Este te gusta?, Raúl. [la madre agarra el juego]
-Sí, ese le gusta.
-¿Le gusta a él, o ese es el te gusta a tí?
-No mami, ese es el que le gusta a él, si es bueno.
-No mira, [la madre coje otro juego], este se ve mejor.
[El nene mayor hace gestos y sonidos de fastidio]
-Ese se ve muy difícil pa mi.
-¿Y este?
-Ese no mami. Este. [el mayor le da otro juego a la madre]
-Pero es que ese es muy difícil pa mi.
-Mami, él no sabe jugar los de carrera.
[la madre coge un juego de Shrek]
-Baja la voz, que me tienes un oido [ininteligible] y con dolor de cabeza.
-Pero yo no...
-Sshh, baja la voz, vente.

[Un rato después, en la caja]
-Ay, pero yo pensé que era más barato.
-Mami yo quiero chicle. [le decía el nene chiquito, el otro estaba jugando con un Nintendo DS]
-¿Cuánto son los chicles?
[ininteligible, resulta que la mamá no compró el juego o los chicles o ninguno de los dos]
-Eres mala, mami [el chiquito le daba puños suavecitos en el muslo a mamá], vez, yo te pedí que me lo compraras [no se sabe qué] y ahora no me lo vas a comprar. Es que tu no me amas. Tu no me amas.

[fin de la conversación, salieron de la tienda, no se sabe si con algún artículo]

Click here to see the best ad ever made! It is an ad made for Firefox. You will hurt because of all the laughter...

(The slutty bitch and the half-blind, pissing dog)

Today I saw a slutty bitch, walking with a half-blind, pissing dog. They were quite a pair. They actually looked good together, for their fur was tan brown on both. What race were they? I don't know. Here we stereotypically call all stray dogs: "sato portorricensis" (sato, meaning: wandering, lascivious, homeless, sicky, (it could be one of those adjectives or all).

Yes, as I waited for a bus, (stupid A3, never arrived, bastard!) at the university, they walked by. She was sniffing the sidewalk looking for something to eat, you could see her ribs through her skin (remember it's a SHE because it's a female dog, I know English treats them as "its" but I speak Spanish, and we make differences in gender, ok!)). And he was sniffing some plants on the side of the sidewalk (nice redundancy), and then he would lift his legs and piss on the plants, and then he wiped his paws on the grass, as if he were a bull, as if piss had gotten under his paws and he were grossed out. She had found a bone on the gutter, she chewed (dang, it sounds weird to call it "she", oh well), she chewed as if the bone was a chick-a-stick, until there was nothing. The male kept sniffing the plants, and pissing on them. I could only imagine being a leaf, screaming at the stupid dog: "motherfucker!, why the fuck don't you go and piss your stupid, warm shit all over your momma! asshole", and then resigned to the smell, because, being a leaf you have no hands to wipe yourself down, you depend on your leaf friends, and they won't touch you because you have piss all over... At least it's a rainy day, you say; and you await the rain with hope and with hurry.

But back to the dogs. The udders of the female (oh gosh, are they called udders?, like the cows', I don't know: las tetas de la perra), were stretched and swollen, old age maybe?, dehydration? bad nutrition? Who knows. The male, on the other hand, had a longer coat of hair, more colorful (copper-like), healthier. So yes, why was the bitch slutty? Well, because I, pornographically-aware, noticed that her vaginal area was also swollen and looked used, or raped. Yes, she was a sexually abused bitch, probably the male dog didn't really notice, he met her a month ago, and she had already had six births of more than 4 puppies, all from different fathers. So, if she was sexually abused in the month that he was with her, he wouldn't have notice. Of course he wouldn't have notice, he was half-blind, one of his eyes was closed, and the other was not fully open either, so he probably found his way thru smell... In that case, maybe he did smell other dogs' semen in/on her sex, that's why he was marking territory so that she would only be his. His penis was also kinda protruding; that, not only proves that he is a horny bastard, but also that he rapes her (with her consent, of course) regularly; he was sore, that's why he had it out (and, surely, with a developing urinary infection).

So yes. After that, 7 busses passed by, not the A3 that I needed, so I left and took the train and went somewhere else to get a faster bus.

I wonder if they had an intimate moment this night, alone, on the wet gutter....


ps. The leaf (remember it?) thanked God and all other Nordic and Greek gods for the blessing of rain, of course, the rain came almost too late, because the leaf developed skin cancer. But she is alive, and still cursing.