This is a very-hard-to-translate song... With that said, I have to warn this is a guerilla translation, done on the spot, yes, I know it is irresponsible but... hmm... I don't really care.
You may find the song at your nearest P2P program or music store... So that you can listen to how awesomely gruesome this song is. And catchy. Its not the best song of the band, but it stands out, at least to me.
The song was written by Mexican band: Café Tacuba, pretty much and probably (redundant?) the best punk-rock-alternative-folkloric band ever in the history of Mexico and Latin America, famous for reinventing themselves often and for their very original lyrics and sounds.
But first, some language barriers...
The song is called:
Alarmala de tos.
"Alarmala" can mean many things, if it had an accent (alármala) it would translate into "alarm her". But it doesn't have it. So it might be a weird (but totally possible) conjugation that means: "he/she alarmed her". The whole song uses that weird conjugation so... Although the correct conjugation would be "alarmola". So I don't know.
Then it says: "de tos", which is "of the cough". Yes, I was like that too: "he/she alarmed her of the cough"? What the hell? Something like "she warned her of a disease"? But it doesn't make sense in the song. On the other hand: "tos" can also be short for "todos" which is "all". So that would say: "alarmed her of all"; "all" meaning "a lot of people". That one translation would be the best, altho I will use it "alarm her of all" because in the present tense it just makes more sense as compared to the rest of the song. If you say "alarmed her" it implies someone did warn her of something but the song doesn't say...
No further ado
Alarmala de Tos/Alarm her of all
por Café Tacuba
La Lola paciente mendigaba,/The Lola patiently bummed
sufría, su jefe la obligaba,/she suffered, her father made her,
con ella sacaba buena lana./he gets good money with her,
La pobre era jorobada./The poor girl had a hump.
Su madre le metía el talón,/Her mother stepped on her,
era perversa y de mal corazón./she was mean, and cold harted.
Su hermano vivia en el reventón,/Her brother lived his life to party
él era el filo, amante de un panzón./he was the lover of some fat panzy.
Ese día, pasaba normalmente,/That day was passing normally
cuando su padre atacola de repente,/when her father attacked her unexpectedly
violola con un deseo demente,/he raped her with a demential desire
y ella quizo morirse en ese instante./and she wanted to die in that instant.
Mató a su padre cuando este la seguía,/She killed her father when he followed her
mientras su madre con su hermano le ponía,/while her mother put her brother against her
pensó que ayuda jamás encontraría,/she thought that help would never find her
hasta que al fin, halló un policía./until at last, she found a police man.
Alarma, alarmala de tos,/Alarm, alarm her of all
uno, dos, tres, /one, two, three
patada y cos. /a kick and more*
(X2)
La Lola su historia lloró,/The Lola her story moaned
auxilio al "tira" imploró,/help to the cop she groaned
el "azul" sonriendo la miró.../the "blue" watched and smiled...
¿qué creen que fue lo que pasooo?/what do you think happened neeeext?
Siguiola, jalola, atacola, golpeola, pateola, escupiola, tirola, violola /He followed, he pulled, he attacked, he punched, he kicked, he spat, he threw, he raped her.(X2)
Siguiola, jalola, atacola, golpeola, pateola, escupiola, tirola, matolaaaa.../He followed, he pulled, he attaked, he punched, he kicked, he spat, he threw, he killed heeeer...
Con una pistola./With a pistol.
Alarma, alarmala de tos/Alarm, alarm her of all
uno, dos, tres,/one, two, three
patada y cos./a kick and more*
(x4)
Alarma.
Alarma.
Alarma.
Alarma.
Alarma.
Alarma.
Alarma.
Alarma...
Alarma.
*"cos", I don't know what the hell "cos" means, and I couldn't find it in the dictionary, so it must be short for an odd Mexican word that I don't know, if anybody knows, please enligthen me. And again, that chorus is what I chose it to mean, or what I can understand or draw from it... if you have info on this, again: turn my brain-lights on.
On another note, I'm proud of me. I translated that and it even rhymes a bit in English.
Do you think that song is horrible? Perfect for Halloween? I think it is. It is also funny and peculiar to find it in a song. You should find it and hear it. If you do, and if you like it, and you would like more, then you should also find: "Las Flores", a simple, short, funny, beautiful, and very comprehensible song (unlike the one above), that one is my favorite yet. I might post, and translate it one day.
Ok, I'll see you.
Don't eat too much candy, it gives you cavities and makes you fat.
For now...
Happy Hallowennie.
Joel.
(((((BIBLIOTECA OCTAGONAL)))))
(((Libros-Películas-Paréntesis)))
Monday, October 31, 2005
Sunday, October 30, 2005
Thought of the Month / Pensamiento del Mes
Qué bueno es hacer cosas solamente por el simple hecho de hacerlas. Hacer cosas sin sentido, o que no tienen ningún propósito. Qué bueno es hacerlas, y es muchísimo mejor cuando las haces acompañado.
How awesome is it to do things just for the heck of doing them. To do nonsensical things, or things with no purpose. How awesome is to do them, and better yet to do them with the company of someone else.
(This thought was inspired by the beautiful memories of a friend, who melancholically remembers the past. Who doesn't remember the past with yearning?)
How awesome is it to do things just for the heck of doing them. To do nonsensical things, or things with no purpose. How awesome is to do them, and better yet to do them with the company of someone else.
(This thought was inspired by the beautiful memories of a friend, who melancholically remembers the past. Who doesn't remember the past with yearning?)
Saturday, October 29, 2005
And the time turns
It is 2:30 AM. At some point right now, the world spins a little slower to make the United States fall back an hour.
How does this happen? I don't know. It is an event that occurs there. Maybe there is some old guy living in an old lighthouse at the center of the country, where there is this huge clock on top and the old guy climbs the steps to hold the clock's hands. This man has survived death many times, because by stopping the hands of the clock he opens an invisible fold in the mainframe of this existence where, if he were to fall inside, he would be trapped in a space and time that doesn't move, doesn't age and doesn't change. "Sometimes it doesn't sound bad", he thinks, but he knows better....
How does this happen? I don't know. It is an event that occurs there. Maybe there is some old guy living in an old lighthouse at the center of the country, where there is this huge clock on top and the old guy climbs the steps to hold the clock's hands. This man has survived death many times, because by stopping the hands of the clock he opens an invisible fold in the mainframe of this existence where, if he were to fall inside, he would be trapped in a space and time that doesn't move, doesn't age and doesn't change. "Sometimes it doesn't sound bad", he thinks, but he knows better....
Friday, October 28, 2005
First JIP: Why dogs dont like it when you blow on their faces.
www.joelbuki.blogspot.com
presents...
a
Joel's Interactive Program production...
Why Dogs Don't Like It When You Blow On Their Faces.
Staring:
Joel
Joel
and
a dog.
Based on an idea by goody
Dogs. I wonder what's it like to have a dog. A dog is not a bird. I've only had birds as pets, and fish... and once a turtle. But they are not dogs. Dogs have a tendency to act like people, they could become good friends. Turtles don't care about you, they just want to eat. Fish... you can't really caress a fish (although I did try!). And birds, they are lovable and caresable, and they do click and sing to you and sometimes even poke your skin with their beaks, but they are so fragile... they are just not a dog.
Right now I don't want a dog. There is no space in this house to have one. And he would be making all kind of messes. But I would like one sometime. To blow on his face and see how it frowns and grimaces, like a baby tasting something sour.
But why dogs don't like it? I don't know. Probably because when you blow you are exhaling CO2 and you might actually be taking his breath for a while... Who knows. I've blown on my birds and they shake their heads furiously for one microsecond. How did I come up with this explanation? Well, have you put your face in a really really really fast fan? Or have you taken your head out of the car window while still in motion? Don't you kinda loose your breath? Its like, so much is getting in that you can't exhale what you have inside. Well, I guess its the same principle. Hmm. I might be onto something. I might win a nobel prize for this deduction. Or I might have just guessed something that had been previously discussed, and I didn't know...
Oh well, I'll update whenever I get a dog. (you might want to sit down for that...)
presents...
a
Joel's Interactive Program production...
Why Dogs Don't Like It When You Blow On Their Faces.
Staring:
Joel
Joel
and
a dog.
Based on an idea by goody
Dogs. I wonder what's it like to have a dog. A dog is not a bird. I've only had birds as pets, and fish... and once a turtle. But they are not dogs. Dogs have a tendency to act like people, they could become good friends. Turtles don't care about you, they just want to eat. Fish... you can't really caress a fish (although I did try!). And birds, they are lovable and caresable, and they do click and sing to you and sometimes even poke your skin with their beaks, but they are so fragile... they are just not a dog.
Right now I don't want a dog. There is no space in this house to have one. And he would be making all kind of messes. But I would like one sometime. To blow on his face and see how it frowns and grimaces, like a baby tasting something sour.
But why dogs don't like it? I don't know. Probably because when you blow you are exhaling CO2 and you might actually be taking his breath for a while... Who knows. I've blown on my birds and they shake their heads furiously for one microsecond. How did I come up with this explanation? Well, have you put your face in a really really really fast fan? Or have you taken your head out of the car window while still in motion? Don't you kinda loose your breath? Its like, so much is getting in that you can't exhale what you have inside. Well, I guess its the same principle. Hmm. I might be onto something. I might win a nobel prize for this deduction. Or I might have just guessed something that had been previously discussed, and I didn't know...
Oh well, I'll update whenever I get a dog. (you might want to sit down for that...)
Thursday, October 27, 2005
I introduce to you: Joel
Hello. I introduce to you: Joel, he is my other me. And remember that I am Joel too. He was on a trip in the French Islands, he has come back with a nasty sun tan (no, it doesn't look right, it's not a nice looking smooth brown, no, its more like a stretched, toasted, roasted nut).
I noticed that he came back because he started to talk to me when I was writing an email today. Yes, I noticed. I didn't see him leave, and I didn't find the note he said that he left me telling me that he went on vacation. And I didn't see him enter, he just started talking to me, as if no time had passed. As if I was going to accept the fact that he abandoned me! The nerve! Joel, shut up. You see! You see! He's now telling me to shut up! I mean, am I not aloud a little bit of resentment or a little bit of anger? Stop being so melodramatic, Joel. I'm not being...I should really kick you in the balls, bastard! Accept that you are glad that I'm back. I AM glad that you are back, but you didn't say anything, you left me alone. (now he's rolling his eyes).
You are just jealous that I went to the Islands and have this stunning tan and you don't. Prefiero mi jinchera a esa bronceadera que traes. Stop speaking in Spanish. Que no. Yo hablo lo que me de la gana. But what about the people who don't speak spanish. Well, they can always find a dictionary. You really are something. Whatever. Now, say sorry and translate. ¡Que no! You are such a baby. Whatever.
Everybody, this is Joel, the tanned one, Joel has gone off of the computer. He's being temperamental. He's glad to see me. He just doesn't like other people to see his feelings. It's nice meeting you all.
I noticed that he came back because he started to talk to me when I was writing an email today. Yes, I noticed. I didn't see him leave, and I didn't find the note he said that he left me telling me that he went on vacation. And I didn't see him enter, he just started talking to me, as if no time had passed. As if I was going to accept the fact that he abandoned me! The nerve! Joel, shut up. You see! You see! He's now telling me to shut up! I mean, am I not aloud a little bit of resentment or a little bit of anger? Stop being so melodramatic, Joel. I'm not being...I should really kick you in the balls, bastard! Accept that you are glad that I'm back. I AM glad that you are back, but you didn't say anything, you left me alone. (now he's rolling his eyes).
You are just jealous that I went to the Islands and have this stunning tan and you don't. Prefiero mi jinchera a esa bronceadera que traes. Stop speaking in Spanish. Que no. Yo hablo lo que me de la gana. But what about the people who don't speak spanish. Well, they can always find a dictionary. You really are something. Whatever. Now, say sorry and translate. ¡Que no! You are such a baby. Whatever.
Everybody, this is Joel, the tanned one, Joel has gone off of the computer. He's being temperamental. He's glad to see me. He just doesn't like other people to see his feelings. It's nice meeting you all.
Monday, October 24, 2005
And today is Monday again
It seems that I can't get enough of Mondays. Hmm. Maybe that's a sign. I should make something up and write. Just for the sake of writing. I guess I could just let my mind run now... I don't think I want.
I was watching the wrestlilng, and they are showing a stupid "comedic" sketch that has gone on for too long. I wonder who's writing the scripts. Today has been the worst show ever.
I guess that is not interesting. I guess I've lost the will to be entertaining. Maybe tomorow. TomoRRow.
I was watching the wrestlilng, and they are showing a stupid "comedic" sketch that has gone on for too long. I wonder who's writing the scripts. Today has been the worst show ever.
I guess that is not interesting. I guess I've lost the will to be entertaining. Maybe tomorow. TomoRRow.
Monday, October 17, 2005
Hoy es Lunes 17
(Today is Monday the 17th)
(and Today I write in Spanish, I'm in the need of my accents and conjugations)
(Translation services are available at www.freetranslation.com, or you could wait until I do it)
Hoy es lunes 17 de Octubre. Hace exactamente una semana que no he escrito un carajo. Que he estado en el limbo, que ni siquiera me pego a la página blanca por miedo al noséqué. Tengo dos cosas interesantísimas en la cabeza para escribir, y por alguna razón no encuentro la fuerza para hacerlas. Tengo que obligarme. Estoy decayendo, como está decayendo mi blog. Tan emocionado que yo andaba con mi blog, para allá y para acá... que si le escribía todos los días. Nada. Lo que sucede es que estuve esperando respuestas y comentarios, estuve esperando ver la vida al otro lado de la página, y resulta que la vida al otro lado de la página es invisible. Resulta que el otro lado de la página no me pertenece a mí, que aquellos lectores que viven en esos bordes son dueños de sí mismos aun cuando vuelan por los cielos de mí mundo escrito. Resulta que a pesar de que esos lectores se inmersan en mis mares voluntariamente, no los puedo obligar a que reaccionen y mucho menos que reaccionen ante mi. No puedo obligarlos. No puedo. Resulta que este lado de la página, el del escritor, es difícil de aguantar, porque el escritor quiere saber la opinión del lector, pero he llegado a la conclusión de que no es necesaria, es bien recibida e importante para el crecimiento escrituril, pero no es necesaria para mi, porque este lado de la página, mi lado, es mío, para mí, para mi propia satisfacción. Lo que escribo está hecho para que se lea, y seguramente se está leyendo, lo único es que no hay récord de que está sucediendo. No importa, yo ya cumplí con mi lado de la página, y si se lee bien, y, si la iniciativa de comentar está en aquellos al otro lado está presente, mejor. Pero ya no me voy a rochar. Ya no. Lo que va a suceder ahora es que me voy a sentir contento simplemente de ver mis párrafos en la página.
Tantán!
(and Today I write in Spanish, I'm in the need of my accents and conjugations)
(Translation services are available at www.freetranslation.com, or you could wait until I do it)
Hoy es lunes 17 de Octubre. Hace exactamente una semana que no he escrito un carajo. Que he estado en el limbo, que ni siquiera me pego a la página blanca por miedo al noséqué. Tengo dos cosas interesantísimas en la cabeza para escribir, y por alguna razón no encuentro la fuerza para hacerlas. Tengo que obligarme. Estoy decayendo, como está decayendo mi blog. Tan emocionado que yo andaba con mi blog, para allá y para acá... que si le escribía todos los días. Nada. Lo que sucede es que estuve esperando respuestas y comentarios, estuve esperando ver la vida al otro lado de la página, y resulta que la vida al otro lado de la página es invisible. Resulta que el otro lado de la página no me pertenece a mí, que aquellos lectores que viven en esos bordes son dueños de sí mismos aun cuando vuelan por los cielos de mí mundo escrito. Resulta que a pesar de que esos lectores se inmersan en mis mares voluntariamente, no los puedo obligar a que reaccionen y mucho menos que reaccionen ante mi. No puedo obligarlos. No puedo. Resulta que este lado de la página, el del escritor, es difícil de aguantar, porque el escritor quiere saber la opinión del lector, pero he llegado a la conclusión de que no es necesaria, es bien recibida e importante para el crecimiento escrituril, pero no es necesaria para mi, porque este lado de la página, mi lado, es mío, para mí, para mi propia satisfacción. Lo que escribo está hecho para que se lea, y seguramente se está leyendo, lo único es que no hay récord de que está sucediendo. No importa, yo ya cumplí con mi lado de la página, y si se lee bien, y, si la iniciativa de comentar está en aquellos al otro lado está presente, mejor. Pero ya no me voy a rochar. Ya no. Lo que va a suceder ahora es que me voy a sentir contento simplemente de ver mis párrafos en la página.
Tantán!
Monday, October 10, 2005
Stupid Rain!
Sunday, 3: 58 AM
(Joel finishes talking on the msn messenger with a friend).
Sunday, 4:00 AM
I'm excited because tomorrow I will be a tourist! I will be going to the castle of El Morro, take pictures, take the blazing sun. Sweat with no care... But there is a thin rain falling right now. I hope it won't be wet tomorrow. Well, not tomorrow is technically today. But, until the sun rises it is still tomorrow to me.
Sunday, 4:30 AM
(Joel sets up the alarm of his cell phone for 10:30 AM).
Sunday, 4:55 AM
(Joel's cell phone suddenly rings) Hello? And I hear people talking for like 5 seconds. And then they speak to me. And then I don't understand. And then I say its 5 in the morning and then she (Heather) says "I'm so sorry!" And I go, "It's fine! I was up anyway" and I smile. But she goes "I'm so sorry, I'll call you tomorrow!" And I go, "It's ok!" But she was hanging up already.
Sunday, 5:01 AM
(Joel, finally, puts his Da Vinci Code book down and thinks:) Stupid book! It's a hatefully written book, (hatefully, meaning clumsily written, as in it being very insipid, and almost technical), It's a hatefully written book! But... The mystery is sooo compelling. (and then Joel goes to sleep).
Sunday, 10:30 AM
(Joel's alarm goes off but he doesn't hear it).
Sunday, 10:54 AM
(Joel wakes up, because his body has something to do today, but doesn't remember, then his mind give him a bolt; and right then, he hears a thunder and the rain falling on the back yard. Joel says: "Stupid rain!", turns around in bed, and falls asleep again).
Sunday, around 1 PM
(Joel wakes up again from a very good dream, he doesn't remember, but it was very good; he goes back to sleep).
Sunday, 3:21 PM
(Joel finally gets out of bed).
Sunday, 5:00 PM
Stupid rain! I was supposed to go to El Morro! To be a tourist! I even charged the battery of my broken camera! (which works! nonetheless). Aarrgh!
Sunday, 5:13 PM
Lets go watch Flightplan! (Joel suggests to a friend (Randy), he says "Ok").
Sunday, 7:05 PM
(Joel's phone rings. A call he's been expecting from another friend (the other Joel). But Shites! The movie is about to begin, so Joel's brain is bombarded with distractions: of people walking by, of the sound of the theater, and the conversation wasn't as good as it should have been).
Sunday, 7:20 PM
(The movie starts.)
Sunday, 9 something PM
(The movie ends and Joel has to pee, the bathroom is full of people, so he waits. When he goes into the stall, he surprises himself to see how much liquid he was holding in.)
Sunday, 9:4something PM
(Joel is having an amazing strawberry and cream frappucino from starbucks, he had never had one before, and a raspberrycheescakebruller or something like that).
Sunsay, 10:30 PM
(Joel watches wrestling reruns on a local channel).
Sunday, 11:03 PM
(Joel calls his friend, the one who called at seven, to arrange something).
Monday, 12:30 AM
(The wrestling show is over and anxiety falls onto Joel)
Monday, 1:29 AM
(Joel starts to write this post, anxiety building up. Luckily another friend logs in (Matt), this time on the AIM messenger, and the anxiety recedes for a while).
Monday, 2:49 AM
Stupid rain! The hole day has been wet, with a little rain falling at random hours. (And as he says this, a light rain starts falling.) It's been rainy for the past 7 days, why did I think today was going to be different? Plans have a way of not being accomplished. Damn it!
(And with that thought, Joel's anxiety boils up from his stomach once again, thinking of his previous arrangement).
The future, like today, holds uncertainty, holds a lot of rain.
(But Joel loves the rain!)
I shall be all right. If rain falls I will curse at it for a while, but then I will go under it and be showered.
(Anxiety of the future, it holds uncertainty, a lot of rain. But Joel loves the rain!)
Monday, 3:00 AM
(Joel puts Sunday's date for this post (instead of Monday's), but he changes his mind, and leaves the post for Monday at 3:00 AM. Then he hits "post".)
(Joel finishes talking on the msn messenger with a friend).
Sunday, 4:00 AM
I'm excited because tomorrow I will be a tourist! I will be going to the castle of El Morro, take pictures, take the blazing sun. Sweat with no care... But there is a thin rain falling right now. I hope it won't be wet tomorrow. Well, not tomorrow is technically today. But, until the sun rises it is still tomorrow to me.
Sunday, 4:30 AM
(Joel sets up the alarm of his cell phone for 10:30 AM).
Sunday, 4:55 AM
(Joel's cell phone suddenly rings) Hello? And I hear people talking for like 5 seconds. And then they speak to me. And then I don't understand. And then I say its 5 in the morning and then she (Heather) says "I'm so sorry!" And I go, "It's fine! I was up anyway" and I smile. But she goes "I'm so sorry, I'll call you tomorrow!" And I go, "It's ok!" But she was hanging up already.
Sunday, 5:01 AM
(Joel, finally, puts his Da Vinci Code book down and thinks:) Stupid book! It's a hatefully written book, (hatefully, meaning clumsily written, as in it being very insipid, and almost technical), It's a hatefully written book! But... The mystery is sooo compelling. (and then Joel goes to sleep).
Sunday, 10:30 AM
(Joel's alarm goes off but he doesn't hear it).
Sunday, 10:54 AM
(Joel wakes up, because his body has something to do today, but doesn't remember, then his mind give him a bolt; and right then, he hears a thunder and the rain falling on the back yard. Joel says: "Stupid rain!", turns around in bed, and falls asleep again).
Sunday, around 1 PM
(Joel wakes up again from a very good dream, he doesn't remember, but it was very good; he goes back to sleep).
Sunday, 3:21 PM
(Joel finally gets out of bed).
Sunday, 5:00 PM
Stupid rain! I was supposed to go to El Morro! To be a tourist! I even charged the battery of my broken camera! (which works! nonetheless). Aarrgh!
Sunday, 5:13 PM
Lets go watch Flightplan! (Joel suggests to a friend (Randy), he says "Ok").
Sunday, 7:05 PM
(Joel's phone rings. A call he's been expecting from another friend (the other Joel). But Shites! The movie is about to begin, so Joel's brain is bombarded with distractions: of people walking by, of the sound of the theater, and the conversation wasn't as good as it should have been).
Sunday, 7:20 PM
(The movie starts.)
Sunday, 9 something PM
(The movie ends and Joel has to pee, the bathroom is full of people, so he waits. When he goes into the stall, he surprises himself to see how much liquid he was holding in.)
Sunday, 9:4something PM
(Joel is having an amazing strawberry and cream frappucino from starbucks, he had never had one before, and a raspberrycheescakebruller or something like that).
Sunsay, 10:30 PM
(Joel watches wrestling reruns on a local channel).
Sunday, 11:03 PM
(Joel calls his friend, the one who called at seven, to arrange something).
Monday, 12:30 AM
(The wrestling show is over and anxiety falls onto Joel)
Monday, 1:29 AM
(Joel starts to write this post, anxiety building up. Luckily another friend logs in (Matt), this time on the AIM messenger, and the anxiety recedes for a while).
Monday, 2:49 AM
Stupid rain! The hole day has been wet, with a little rain falling at random hours. (And as he says this, a light rain starts falling.) It's been rainy for the past 7 days, why did I think today was going to be different? Plans have a way of not being accomplished. Damn it!
(And with that thought, Joel's anxiety boils up from his stomach once again, thinking of his previous arrangement).
The future, like today, holds uncertainty, holds a lot of rain.
(But Joel loves the rain!)
I shall be all right. If rain falls I will curse at it for a while, but then I will go under it and be showered.
(Anxiety of the future, it holds uncertainty, a lot of rain. But Joel loves the rain!)
Monday, 3:00 AM
(Joel puts Sunday's date for this post (instead of Monday's), but he changes his mind, and leaves the post for Monday at 3:00 AM. Then he hits "post".)
Friday, October 07, 2005
On how we meet our friends
It is weird how people get to know other people. To think that at some point you wouldn't even talk to someone, and the next thing you know... that someone is so special. And afterwards you think back, and don't even recall how it all started.
It is the mystery of friendship. The mystery of the mind to gradually forget how love progresses from none to all. Have anyone stopped to think about this? How is it that you find friends? How is it that they become such an immense part of us? What was the process? Was it just by hanging out? Layers and layers of different qualities build upon layers and layers of lots of other experiences and then, without the slightest clue of what's happening, that person becomes the person you call on the phone when you are bored, when you need help, when you need company, they are the people you call when you fear for them, people you call because you care for them.
Only once was I aware of this process. Only once. And it is still so unexplainable, because, even when I was aware that that person was going to be a friend, I still couldn't grasp the moments in which we knew we were friends. I guess that that sense didn't come to both of us at the same time. What I remember is just hanging out, or like talking about what movie you like... I don't know.
What I do know is that, even when you never really know when your friendship started, you will always remember when it ends, or when it begins to end. Friendships can be lost with an act, with a word, with abandon. I don't intend on keeping myself uncommunicated of that person of whom I was talking, because I don't want to let happen the same things that happened in the past, friendships not broken, but forgotten. I'm sure I'll find them again, sometime, in the meantime I'll keep hanging out with the friends I have, and I'll keep wondering how weird, simple and complex it is to find one.
It is the mystery of friendship. The mystery of the mind to gradually forget how love progresses from none to all. Have anyone stopped to think about this? How is it that you find friends? How is it that they become such an immense part of us? What was the process? Was it just by hanging out? Layers and layers of different qualities build upon layers and layers of lots of other experiences and then, without the slightest clue of what's happening, that person becomes the person you call on the phone when you are bored, when you need help, when you need company, they are the people you call when you fear for them, people you call because you care for them.
Only once was I aware of this process. Only once. And it is still so unexplainable, because, even when I was aware that that person was going to be a friend, I still couldn't grasp the moments in which we knew we were friends. I guess that that sense didn't come to both of us at the same time. What I remember is just hanging out, or like talking about what movie you like... I don't know.
What I do know is that, even when you never really know when your friendship started, you will always remember when it ends, or when it begins to end. Friendships can be lost with an act, with a word, with abandon. I don't intend on keeping myself uncommunicated of that person of whom I was talking, because I don't want to let happen the same things that happened in the past, friendships not broken, but forgotten. I'm sure I'll find them again, sometime, in the meantime I'll keep hanging out with the friends I have, and I'll keep wondering how weird, simple and complex it is to find one.
Wednesday, October 05, 2005
Appendicitis
Some books have good appendixes, they inform you of things that you specifically want to find in that book. But other books have bad appendixes, so, they suffer from appendicitis (an inflamation of the end of the book... hmm)
Just a random thought.
Just a random thought.
Tuesday, October 04, 2005
Neglect
Yes, I know. I've been neglecting my baby here. I should be put in jail... lalalalala I've been busy writing a novel (or a pretense, or an effort of a novel, but I'm trying).
So, leave me alone!
:p
ps. I have not forgotten JIP, I already have two titles... it is exciting to think about what I'm going to write, keep them coming!.
So, leave me alone!
:p
ps. I have not forgotten JIP, I already have two titles... it is exciting to think about what I'm going to write, keep them coming!.
Saturday, October 01, 2005
Neon Lights in October
Oh, I love the previous post. It is like Northern Lights (if you've ever seen them, because I haven't, but I can always imagine). Whenever you put your mouse pointer on the text, it glows neon green, it is beautiful. Don't you think?
I'm sorry. I know I'm naive. And impressionable. But I don't care, I like little things like these. They make my life interesting.
I'm sorry. I know I'm naive. And impressionable. But I don't care, I like little things like these. They make my life interesting.
Friday, September 30, 2005
Thursday, September 29, 2005
Update on the Mother of all knots, and apologies
The apologies are for that post/story: The Yogurt; of September 25th. But the apologies are not because of the story, they are because of the font. In some computers, I have seen, that the font is very small, and almost unreadable. I will fix it right now. So, if you skipped it for its font was unappealing (which I don't think you did), go back, The Yogurt is going to look lots better (it also has less errors than the first one).
As for The mother of all knots, posted on: September 13th, I'm still working on the knot.
As for The mother of all knots, posted on: September 13th, I'm still working on the knot.
Wednesday, September 28, 2005
The Challenges of TomoRRow
Oh, I've been anticipating this post for a long time. I have! I wanted to write it badly, but couldn't find the words. It's not like I have the words tonight, it's just that tonight I am going to be brave enough to write it, without knowing the outcome.
The Challenges of TomoRRow.
No, I'm not going to go sci-fi on you. Not at all! Although it wouldn't hurt, now that I think of it. TomoRRow brings all of these images into my head like, the deep, black ocean of space (merde! so cliché!) (Cliché is in French?!) (Oh my God!, it is! I always knew it, but never stopped to think about it, hmm, so the parenthesis should say: "merde!, très cliché!") Moving on from my tangent. As I was saying, Challenges of TomoRRow brings images of the deep, black ocean of space, of highway lanes on the surface of Saturn's rings; of blue, cold, windy atmospheres in Pluto; of glowing, flaming reds in Mercury; of seas of smelly methane gas on one of the moons of Jupiter (I actually read an article about that, and I wondered how a "sea" of gas would look, and this is what was concluded: "when you dip your hand in it, it is slightly colder than the air above, but it doesn't feel like water would feel, it is like dipping your hand inside a whirlwind, that waves slowly, even thickly between your fingers. But then you cannot see the surface of this sea methane, for it is covered by a greenish fog that hangs on top of it, swirling and lurking, as the sea is not solid, it is just heavy, concentrated gas, just hovering on top of another solid, which we would call the "sea bed"." My mind is digressing once again!).
But no. I am not going sci-fi on you. Not at all! Although images keep coming: of stars, of three suns burning, of two moons shimmering, of the sun just walking along the horizon, instead of rising on top of our heads (and you don't have to fly deep space to experience that, just hang around in Antarctica, or in the North Pole with Sandy Claws... The sun just drifts around you, and not over you! It makes sense, since the north and south pole don't ever get direct sunlight. But to actually SEE the sun just go around the horizon, it is incredible. I can only imagine how lost people would get... That's another thing I learned, or unlearned, and that people missed when they didn't go see March of the Penguins! ... And again, I trailed off.). I will start again.
No. I am not going sci-fi on you. Not at all! Although images keep coming. But no. I just wanted to talk about the word: Tomorrow. Such a nice word, isn't it? It suddenly, for nor reason, fills your lungs with pride or maybe with hope, with the hope to see a future day? The hope to live one more day? It brings images of light, of freshness, of birds chirping of the sun rising, and it would make sense, as the word comprises of: To (direction) Morrow (which once meant: morning). Oh, But No. What I want to point out is the fact that tomorrow is written with two "R's". I was surprised the day that I stopped and looked at the word when I was chatting with a friend. I had typed: "tomorow", and I had always typed it like that, with one "R". But then, I looked at it, and, for some reason, it hit me that it looked odd, that is was missing something. I went to my trusty dictionaire and found that it had two "R's". Then I made a comment to my friend, whom I was speaking to, and he said that it took HIM a while to remember that its double "R". This statement, coming from a native English speaker, appalled me. But soon I got over it, because I myself forget how to write Spanish words, like "necesitar", I forget if the "C" goes where the "S" goes. (That word is "to need", its variant: "necessary" is also confusing to me).
But Tomorrow is one of my favorite words (in English, and I love to read it from the English as if it were Spanish, which would sound: toh-moh-roh, or toh-moh-roe, depending on my mood). It is one of my favorite words, along with "bus" (in Spanish is "bus" too, but instead of reading it "bus", you would read it "boos", but a very short "oo", don't go booooing around; so, it sounds very funny when someone just comes and says "boos".).
So yes, Tomorrow is one of my favorite words, for many reasons: because it makes you procrastinate in your own self-contained thoughts; because it makes you digress from your current subject; because it makes you forget the "R's", the "C's", the "S's", the "OO's"; because it makes you totally go on a tangent that doesn't really go anywhere; because it makes you go very repetitive; because it brings flash-backs from the future, because it lets go of flash-forwards from the past; because it brings images of the deep, black space and a parenthesis that went after it concerning French; because it makes you remember things; because it makes you go "clichéry"; because it makes you think of what is coming, or not, or it just entertains you when you read it in Spanish: toh-moh-roh; or because it is just such a beautiful, beautiful word to look at: Tomorrow (proud T, repetitive O's, and the finality of a W, and, of course, the mysterious and intriguing double R). But it is one of my favorite words because it makes you realize, and it makes ME realize, what a liar I am, because tomorrow is a word that ultimately makes me go, and in itself it is, soooo sci-fi.
The Challenges of TomoRRow.
No, I'm not going to go sci-fi on you. Not at all! Although it wouldn't hurt, now that I think of it. TomoRRow brings all of these images into my head like, the deep, black ocean of space (merde! so cliché!) (Cliché is in French?!) (Oh my God!, it is! I always knew it, but never stopped to think about it, hmm, so the parenthesis should say: "merde!, très cliché!") Moving on from my tangent. As I was saying, Challenges of TomoRRow brings images of the deep, black ocean of space, of highway lanes on the surface of Saturn's rings; of blue, cold, windy atmospheres in Pluto; of glowing, flaming reds in Mercury; of seas of smelly methane gas on one of the moons of Jupiter (I actually read an article about that, and I wondered how a "sea" of gas would look, and this is what was concluded: "when you dip your hand in it, it is slightly colder than the air above, but it doesn't feel like water would feel, it is like dipping your hand inside a whirlwind, that waves slowly, even thickly between your fingers. But then you cannot see the surface of this sea methane, for it is covered by a greenish fog that hangs on top of it, swirling and lurking, as the sea is not solid, it is just heavy, concentrated gas, just hovering on top of another solid, which we would call the "sea bed"." My mind is digressing once again!).
But no. I am not going sci-fi on you. Not at all! Although images keep coming: of stars, of three suns burning, of two moons shimmering, of the sun just walking along the horizon, instead of rising on top of our heads (and you don't have to fly deep space to experience that, just hang around in Antarctica, or in the North Pole with Sandy Claws... The sun just drifts around you, and not over you! It makes sense, since the north and south pole don't ever get direct sunlight. But to actually SEE the sun just go around the horizon, it is incredible. I can only imagine how lost people would get... That's another thing I learned, or unlearned, and that people missed when they didn't go see March of the Penguins! ... And again, I trailed off.). I will start again.
No. I am not going sci-fi on you. Not at all! Although images keep coming. But no. I just wanted to talk about the word: Tomorrow. Such a nice word, isn't it? It suddenly, for nor reason, fills your lungs with pride or maybe with hope, with the hope to see a future day? The hope to live one more day? It brings images of light, of freshness, of birds chirping of the sun rising, and it would make sense, as the word comprises of: To (direction) Morrow (which once meant: morning). Oh, But No. What I want to point out is the fact that tomorrow is written with two "R's". I was surprised the day that I stopped and looked at the word when I was chatting with a friend. I had typed: "tomorow", and I had always typed it like that, with one "R". But then, I looked at it, and, for some reason, it hit me that it looked odd, that is was missing something. I went to my trusty dictionaire and found that it had two "R's". Then I made a comment to my friend, whom I was speaking to, and he said that it took HIM a while to remember that its double "R". This statement, coming from a native English speaker, appalled me. But soon I got over it, because I myself forget how to write Spanish words, like "necesitar", I forget if the "C" goes where the "S" goes. (That word is "to need", its variant: "necessary" is also confusing to me).
But Tomorrow is one of my favorite words (in English, and I love to read it from the English as if it were Spanish, which would sound: toh-moh-roh, or toh-moh-roe, depending on my mood). It is one of my favorite words, along with "bus" (in Spanish is "bus" too, but instead of reading it "bus", you would read it "boos", but a very short "oo", don't go booooing around; so, it sounds very funny when someone just comes and says "boos".).
So yes, Tomorrow is one of my favorite words, for many reasons: because it makes you procrastinate in your own self-contained thoughts; because it makes you digress from your current subject; because it makes you forget the "R's", the "C's", the "S's", the "OO's"; because it makes you totally go on a tangent that doesn't really go anywhere; because it makes you go very repetitive; because it brings flash-backs from the future, because it lets go of flash-forwards from the past; because it brings images of the deep, black space and a parenthesis that went after it concerning French; because it makes you remember things; because it makes you go "clichéry"; because it makes you think of what is coming, or not, or it just entertains you when you read it in Spanish: toh-moh-roh; or because it is just such a beautiful, beautiful word to look at: Tomorrow (proud T, repetitive O's, and the finality of a W, and, of course, the mysterious and intriguing double R). But it is one of my favorite words because it makes you realize, and it makes ME realize, what a liar I am, because tomorrow is a word that ultimately makes me go, and in itself it is, soooo sci-fi.
Tuesday, September 27, 2005
Joel's Interactive Program (JIP)
I present to you J.I.P., an effort to make this place more enjoyable and busier, and more interactive ... (*whispering to himself*): mainly for me. Because, (*clearing throat*), I love writing but I also need to reeeeaaaad! Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince won't last much longer, Ok!
So, I've created this idea. YOU give a title, any title, a very random title, and I will write about it. What do you think? Or maybe better, I shall write a story from your title, that will make it harder... and maybe even more interesting. YOU can also suggest a sentence, a very random, crazy sentence, the least sense the better, and I shall write around it, or WITH it. I don't know. You can suggest whatever you'd like.
So, ok. Homework.
1. Think! (because I'm running out of neurons!) (altho I have a list of titles here, but I need encouragement).
2. Give me a title! (whatever, as random as you can) (ex. "The Correct Toe"), (I've also been thinking of doing a series of stories with the titles of the songs from a CD) (hmm) (I can foresee copyright battles)
3. Or, Give me a sentence! (even more random-er than the titles) (ex. "And saw Pedro sleeping blessedly with his face stuck to the ceiling") (*wink*)
Please! Pleeeeaaaase! Help me!
I await (*bloodshot eyes*) for your COMMENTS. Just click right below of this sentence! Come ooon!
So, I've created this idea. YOU give a title, any title, a very random title, and I will write about it. What do you think? Or maybe better, I shall write a story from your title, that will make it harder... and maybe even more interesting. YOU can also suggest a sentence, a very random, crazy sentence, the least sense the better, and I shall write around it, or WITH it. I don't know. You can suggest whatever you'd like.
So, ok. Homework.
1. Think! (because I'm running out of neurons!) (altho I have a list of titles here, but I need encouragement).
2. Give me a title! (whatever, as random as you can) (ex. "The Correct Toe"), (I've also been thinking of doing a series of stories with the titles of the songs from a CD) (hmm) (I can foresee copyright battles)
3. Or, Give me a sentence! (even more random-er than the titles) (ex. "And saw Pedro sleeping blessedly with his face stuck to the ceiling") (*wink*)
Please! Pleeeeaaaase! Help me!
I await (*bloodshot eyes*) for your COMMENTS. Just click right below of this sentence! Come ooon!
Monday, September 26, 2005
Repressed anger.
STuPID, FUCKINg, genes of mine! ASsholes, basTArDS, moTher"F"ing genes of mine! FuCKErs, dAmNED genes of mine! I hate them!
Except the precious chromosomes that invented my feet, those, THOSE are the best genes ever! My feet are the best, my toes even... They smell a bit, but, hey, genes are not perfect.
EXcept! The Rest of the GENES, they are all a big lot of SHITTERS!, DAMN YOU ALL. Genes puÑeteros!, cABRonES, HIjos de PuTA!! Malditos! aaAAAAAAAAAAaaaaaaAAAAah!
Ok. I'm good now. Let me just cut this arm off, and I will be just dandy!
Except the precious chromosomes that invented my feet, those, THOSE are the best genes ever! My feet are the best, my toes even... They smell a bit, but, hey, genes are not perfect.
EXcept! The Rest of the GENES, they are all a big lot of SHITTERS!, DAMN YOU ALL. Genes puÑeteros!, cABRonES, HIjos de PuTA!! Malditos! aaAAAAAAAAAAaaaaaaAAAAah!
Ok. I'm good now. Let me just cut this arm off, and I will be just dandy!
Sunday, September 25, 2005
The Yogurt (based on veridic events)
There it was. There is nothing else in the fridge. Just the pale light, just the cold. On the door, there are all sorts of sauces: bar-b-q, ketchup, mustard, grape jelly... On the lower shelves there are some bottles of beer and soda cans. But on the top shelf, there was nothing, nothing but the heavenly-looking cup of yogurt.
Its flavor was strawberry, and you could taste the rich, thick, gooey white substance on your tonge. "Umm", you think. And as you reach in to grab it, a thought pierces your mind. "Don't. Don't, it will bring illnesses towards you".
The yogurt didn't belong to you. It belonged to your Chinese roommate, he who has been fighting the people upstairs for the past two weeks. The people upstairs are loud; he is fed up with them. But you... you are not bothered. Actually, you couldn't care less. the last time you ate his yogurt he flipped out. He ranted about everyone slurping his yogurts. You didn't know he was going to go like that, and your other roommate, the Japanese girl, she said that he wouldn't mind. She lied to you, a fellow woman, how inconsiderately conniving.
But the yogurt looks so tempting in the fridge. All alone, on its own shelf, waiting, seducing. You slammed shut the fridge's door. To open it seconds later, slowly, hopeful that the stupid, beautiful thing would not be there. But, it didn't work. It was still there, looking at you, calling at you. Oh, the hell with it, right?
You grabbed it. You tore the cover. You sank a spoon in it, and you licked that spoon as if you were having an orgasm. Like your first one. Maybe you will be dead tomorrow, killed by your tantric Chinese boy roommate. Your Japanese girl roommate will laugh at your corpse. She never liked you. Who cares? You are having the orgasm that was waiting for days in the cold, white insides of that fridge. And the sweetness of the illegal, and the sweetness of its strawberries melting around your tongue is so good.
The end.
(The preceding was a fictional story based on veridic events. The characters are fictional, the situations are half-true. Any likeness to real life is just pure coincidence).
Its flavor was strawberry, and you could taste the rich, thick, gooey white substance on your tonge. "Umm", you think. And as you reach in to grab it, a thought pierces your mind. "Don't. Don't, it will bring illnesses towards you".
The yogurt didn't belong to you. It belonged to your Chinese roommate, he who has been fighting the people upstairs for the past two weeks. The people upstairs are loud; he is fed up with them. But you... you are not bothered. Actually, you couldn't care less. the last time you ate his yogurt he flipped out. He ranted about everyone slurping his yogurts. You didn't know he was going to go like that, and your other roommate, the Japanese girl, she said that he wouldn't mind. She lied to you, a fellow woman, how inconsiderately conniving.
But the yogurt looks so tempting in the fridge. All alone, on its own shelf, waiting, seducing. You slammed shut the fridge's door. To open it seconds later, slowly, hopeful that the stupid, beautiful thing would not be there. But, it didn't work. It was still there, looking at you, calling at you. Oh, the hell with it, right?
You grabbed it. You tore the cover. You sank a spoon in it, and you licked that spoon as if you were having an orgasm. Like your first one. Maybe you will be dead tomorrow, killed by your tantric Chinese boy roommate. Your Japanese girl roommate will laugh at your corpse. She never liked you. Who cares? You are having the orgasm that was waiting for days in the cold, white insides of that fridge. And the sweetness of the illegal, and the sweetness of its strawberries melting around your tongue is so good.
The end.
(The preceding was a fictional story based on veridic events. The characters are fictional, the situations are half-true. Any likeness to real life is just pure coincidence).
Saturday, September 24, 2005
Talking about food
Today I went to the dentist. I don't like the dentist. But I like the nurses of the dentist even less. There are like four. So I go into the cubicle to get my mid-year check-up and clean-up (for some reason I think I'm not saying the right words...). In my mind I was wishing that the pretty nurse didn't take me, not because I didn't like her, nooo, she is beautiful to look at, when you are laying down with your mouth open. The thing is... she is a bit rough. And my gums are tender. But to my gums relief, this lady came up and did me teeth.
Have you notice that they talk to you while they scrape you teeth? I don't if it just them in that office, but they all have a story whenever they are cleaning up your teeth. It is nice tho, it takes your mind more or less away from the pain in that small area where your teeth are attached to your gums. But then it is bad because you want to answer something, and sometimes they expect you to answer with your mouth agap, and their fingers inside... uuhh it gave me chills.
I hate going to the dentist. Not because I don't like the people in the dentist's office, they're the nicest people in the world actually, very nice, the doctor is too, very... outgoing, speaks his mind. But, ooh, i don't like the pain in my mandibles after I return home.
Have you notice that they talk to you while they scrape you teeth? I don't if it just them in that office, but they all have a story whenever they are cleaning up your teeth. It is nice tho, it takes your mind more or less away from the pain in that small area where your teeth are attached to your gums. But then it is bad because you want to answer something, and sometimes they expect you to answer with your mouth agap, and their fingers inside... uuhh it gave me chills.
I hate going to the dentist. Not because I don't like the people in the dentist's office, they're the nicest people in the world actually, very nice, the doctor is too, very... outgoing, speaks his mind. But, ooh, i don't like the pain in my mandibles after I return home.
Friday, September 23, 2005
Tengo ganas de comer pescado.
Tengo unas ganas enormes de comer pescao. Un filete de dorado bien sasonado con pimienta y oregano. O un salmón bien horneado, que quede bien rosadito con mucha mantequillita deretida. O una serenata de viandas con bacalao. O me conformo con un fillet-o-fish the Mc Donalds. A lo mejor ando preñao.
I'm in the mood for fish. A "dorado"(mahi mahi) fillet seasoned with pepper and oregano. Or salmon roasted pink, with lots of melted butter. Or a "serenata" (mix of root fruits: potatoes, sweet potatoes, carrots, pumpkin and others with no translation) with codfish. Or I would even go for a fillet-o-fish from Mc Dondalds. Maybe I'm pregnant.
I'm in the mood for fish. A "dorado"(mahi mahi) fillet seasoned with pepper and oregano. Or salmon roasted pink, with lots of melted butter. Or a "serenata" (mix of root fruits: potatoes, sweet potatoes, carrots, pumpkin and others with no translation) with codfish. Or I would even go for a fillet-o-fish from Mc Dondalds. Maybe I'm pregnant.
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