Friday, 31 July 2009

HOME. Whatever it means. All that it means.

Lately there have been a lot of words hurting like sharped knives, getting through places inside of me that I never thought they existed.
There have been many questions that needn't to be asked.
There is a piece of land where I've learnt my lessons when I was a child. That is the land of my ancestors, where the North is found and revealed to me eveytime I go there.
It's a matter of heart and blood, of unquestionable aspects of my personality that bound me to it, that will always make me belong, no matter how lost or how far I am.
I am part of a breeze of air dancing above the mountains without name, of the rivers tha run thorugh them, of the ocean where the world dissapears in the dreamy and wild horizon to be melt into strange paradises and magical universes.
Impossible to explain what I am and how I am without you.
You, who are my inmortal mother, my beloved heritage, all that I own in this world, my biggest treasure.
Your name brings up the scent of some unforgattable mornings and many starry nights when once I thought I would conquer some dreams for you.
You, who helped me to cherised them, who gave me and many others the will and the wings to fly away.
We will always be in debt to you for letting us enjoy the freedom of loving you in the distance without regrets, without any complex for being your sons and daughters.
We build our pride from your heart, as you never demanded any blood, any unnecessary deaths in your name, any words you did not well deserved.
We are as you moulded us deep inside your forests, where foreing invaders didn't dare to enter for fear of loosing their minds, scared to death by the talk of the wolves in your misterious moonlight hours.
We learnt your language shaped by your incesant rain, warmed by your lively sunshine, sang by warriors who detested bloody battles, developed by working women to whom you gave the laws of nature and the duty to protect them agaisnt the tyranny of ignorance.
Your poets wrote the words and bonfires of joy and hapiness, of dairy legitimate fights agaisnt oblivion, made them inmortal.
We came to be what you always wanted us to be. How could not be grateful to you? How not to praise you for your modesty and patience, for your beauty and the comfort you gave us?
We never gave you up, not even in the hard times, when wood ships drove my people away from your soft shores that they kept on missing till their time came and found them wipping their sorrows in a carebean island, miles away from home.
Not even in the good times, when we leave you just to consolidate the pilars of being that you so firmly settled in us with no hate, but with love and comprehension, with the thirst to learn on the surface of this big map of the world you thought us to respect.
Despite my desbelief in borders and my embrace to a wider view of the world, there will always be a place I'll call home.
That's what you are: Home, whatever that means. All that it means.

Tuesday, 28 July 2009

Raquel recommends:ANTRICHRIST the last incursion of Lars into the Human Mind...DONT MISS!!!

ANTICHRIST is quite a disturbing stroll through the imagination, inquietudes and artistic perspective of Lars, who made this movie to help himslef out of a depresion and help the rest of us to get into one.
The film displays a beautifull and extremely provocative array of images that leaves none indiferent to their explicit and implicit messages.
Its journy into the human mind, with all its horrors and allucinations, give us no time for popcorn digestion.
The scene where Nature and Critical Reason interview each other brings up some interesting perspectives about the capacity of humans to imgine the unimaginable.
In reality, the idea that lies behind it, is the possibility of humans to achieve or make real everything that our minds can conceive.
The consequences of trying to control the forces of nature (are they women?) are pesimistic.
Lars and women...His views on the "fair" sex are always controvesial.
Do women bodies belong to us or to nature? Are we in charge of them or do they control us?
Sex (women's one, of course) is depicted as the responsible evil that masters and condemns our will to its own caprices that respond to obscure desires.
In an orgy of violence born out from bad conscience and hidden fears (is Freud really dead or that was just an ironic comment by Her?) the two chracters, whilst trying to find the light, find their way towards the most complete of the darkness and destruction.
Trying to destroy the nightmare, the nightmare destroys them.
Come on....Watch this movie, because ... I have to do it again before keep on going.

Sunday, 26 July 2009

"Words I thought I never speak". Lo que nunca pense decir.

Por momentos me siento muy segura de mi misma y quiero prolongar esa sensacion hasta que hinunde todas las dudas que me mantienen anclada a un pedazo de tierra que solo llamo mio.
Pero en muchas ocasiones tambien me siento inmensamente fragil e insegura, como si todo lo que me rodea se fuese a desmoronar en cualquier momento; como si el suelo fuese a desaparecer bajo mis pies.
Ultimamente me encunetro nadando en aguas turbulentas, y las corrientes me arrastran en contra de mi voluntad, a la que hace tiempo tambien perdi de vista.
La palabra perder se filtra entre los ringlones de mi futuro incierto, como una sombra, como una ameneza que me cierra el paso y corta el grifo de mis esperanzas.
No son tan grandes como las que habia descrito Dickens en su novela, pero son mias, la gasolina de este motor que se ha empegnado en contaminar a aquellos que quieran desviarme de mi camino, entre los que yo misma me encuentro.
Me miro en e espejo y no me quejo del paso del tiempo. No me arrepiento de las cicatirces invisibles que segundos interminables han dejado bajo la piel, incrustandose en los espacios mas reconditos de un alma que nunca encuetra su sitio.
Que tal si me reconcilio con la idea de convivir con la duda, con el estar enamorada de la pasion que me inspiran ciertas palabras que jamas seran para mi?
No merezo mas ni menos.
Pero no puede ser. Como va a ser? Como podemos conformarnos sin mas y aceptar?
Si una magana de estas me despierto inspirada, puede que tenga suficientes fuerzas para demostrarle al mundo entero que se equivoca, para seguir esta carretera que esta justo aqui, en este momento, frente a mi.
Puede que mis fuerzas me lleguen para despertar la inspiracion de otros sognadores, y con ellos, mudarnos a una parcela de mundo en la que nos dejen hacer realidad la vision.
Brindo por ello; por esa vision, por esa chispa que todavia duerme y que espera pacientemente por la llama que la avive.
A ver quien tiene cojones de encenderla. Y quien tiene cojones de apagarla una vez encendida.
Porque siento que tiene el potencial de arrasar como el caballo de Atila.
Siento el fuego a galope tendido dentro de mi, y tambien en ti, golpeando el suelo como un toro antes de salir al ruedo, ansioso como las cuerdas de una guitarra antes de parir musica.
Veo la frustacion. Chocamos contra ella una y otra vez. La palpamos, nos la tragamos, nos conocemos su fisonomia y nos repele la idea de acostarnos todas las noches con ella.
Es como ese polvo que no significa nada; pero si tu y yo creemos en el amor, no la podemos querer en nuestra cama.
Si tu y yo creemos, podemos abrirles los ojos.
Nuestro mundo puede ser como lo imaginamos y el espejo en el que nos miramos can be big enough for the 2 of us.

Thursday, 23 July 2009

Just my imagination

Oh baby, what's in your eyes? I hope is not a tear. I hope you won't ever forget that I don't care anymore about your dirty tricks.
I hope that by now you don't remeber the promisses we made to each ohter one day under the stars. They've lost the weight that kept them attached to the earth we both used to walked together. They don't mean anything any longer. I've lost my faith in you.
I hope you find that feeling again.
I wouldn't be able to get rid of the blus if I'd stayed by your side, where tomorrow was always the same as yesterday; with my half glass: never empty, never full.
And this taste of ashes in my mouth is the only thing that I have left from the love that burnt us till exhaustion. That and a bunch of memories that keep me awake at night.
And the life ahead that before was meaningless when I pictured it without you, now it seems... I still don't know.
Sitting by the window, I watch this city getting ready for the night and its hunters. And tomorrow I'll walk its streets again, and I will start to see new faces.
I'll start again to build a frame that allows me to make sense of the emptiness and of this strange happiness that, little by little, is pushing away the sadness you left me with.
I know the blues will evolve into that music full of rebel yells, and black will be a style again and not just the lack of colour.
And you'll dissapear once again to come back sooner ot later in a different skin and with a different look in your eyes.
"Dear Lord, hear my plea...but in was just my imagination, running away with me".

Wednesday, 22 July 2009


Today the moon conquered the sun in his everlasting shinign empire.
She won the battle against Ra, and the day light fainted under her beauty.
During the minutes the battle lasted, the river embraced the bodies of the sinful souls who tried to washed their sins away. They did it in the same sacred waters where long time ago Prince Sidharta thought he had found the truth veiled by the mistery of time.

It is something magical about it. About playing with this feeling, letting it linger a bit longer.
How we remember so vividly when there's nothing to remember? How is possible that time travels in circles, tangling our thoughts, destroying our hopes, fooling us in our pretension of mastering the anarchy of the Universe?
This human shell shaped by muscles, made of blood and flesh, lacks of room for faith and tries to find the reason why.
Maybe it's just a waste of time to spend energy in looking for the essence that binds us together, when it's easier to count all those things that set us apart.
But easy it's easy. What's the mistery in that?
We are all mad about the ingredient that spices it all up, without which the hours are just a compilation of boring seconds that sum up to equal cero. Strange adding.
We all want a piece of superstition in our cake. We need supernatural answers to our questions in order to run away from the grayness of scientific explanation.
We all love a bit of fear that makes us feel alive; that makes our poor hearts, thisrty of blood and passion, beat faster that tic tac tic tac.
We long for an encounter with our animal instictis, with our savage nature buried under centuries of civilization and colonization of the human being by ideologies and doctrines created to enslave our souls.
In the night, when nobody see us, we pray for love to come back and set our bodies in fire.
Deep inside, we are primitive creatures worshiping the moon whilst she kisses the sun goodnight.
But in our daily religion, we sacrifice ourselves to gods with no face. We refrain with no regrets.
But I do regret that.

Tuesday, 21 July 2009

La poesia.

Me gusta la noche.
En ella Rimbaud deambulo por los laberintos de la inspiracion, cuando ya estaba embriagado por la vision del mar y por el desamor de Verlaine. Cobijado por las estrellas bebio de la absenta que le hizo maldecir los versos creados; el sabia que el Sol es el bien mas preciado para los que son perseguidos por la oscuridad.
Arthur creia en la posibilidad de crear un mundo de relgas hechas a la medida de las necesidades mas apremiantes. Creia en la necesidad de reinventarse a uno mismo, constantemente, hasta dar con las puertas que abren el mundo a la locura mas lucida, en donde nada tiene la necesidad de ser preciso y en donde todo tiene la obligacion de ser bello y correspondido.
Creia fervientemente en la anarquia de los sentimientos y con sus leyes personales se propuso conquitar el mundo a su forma y modo. Con palabras. Puso la poesia a la cabeza de peloton. Que modo mas hermoso de comenzar una guerra perdida de antemano en la que los caidos en batalla nunca encontrarian causa mas justa por la que dar su vidas.

Me quede prendada en unos versos que nunca fueron pero que son mios, pues como decia el cartero de Neruda: "la poesia no es de quien la escribe, sino de quien la necesita"
Y yo la necesito mas que nunca para descifrar el mensaje de la ciudad que se me escapa ensordecido por el ruido incesante de la vida.
La necesito para conectarme a una esencia menos mecanica de lo que significa "humano", para demostrar que existen otras vias, otras posibilidades, otro futuro distinto al que cruelmente unos labios, hoy y para siempre ausentes, me habian querido conducir y hacer creer.
la necesito en mil bocas y de mil manos, de diversas lenguas y generos. Libre de fornteras y censuras.
La quiero rebelde y llena de energia; ficticia y real, evasora e indulgente con los que pecamos embriagados por su dotes.
La quiero autentica, como nada ni nadie pueden ser; sin ataduras de ningin tipo, sin promesas incumplidas, sin hard feelings ni bullshit. Sin complejos ni temores de hacer sentir y sentir.
La necesito hoy, esta noche sin estrellas, en este instante de insomnio, en ese magana de monotona lluvia.
La quiero porque si.

Sunday, 19 July 2009

Alguien que merezca ser creido

Son curiosidades de la vida el que me encuentre hechando de menos algo que nunca he visto.
Me imagino haciendo planes sobre ese viaje que siempre he querido hacer, para el cual aun no tengo destino fijo.
Creo que simpre he estado enamorada de la idea de "no permanencia" y de "no pertenencia".
No es casualidad que una bandera pirata hondee en una de mis cuatro paredes.
No es una incoveniencia el vivir de ilusiones, huyendo de lo que los demas quieren imponerme, sabiendo que no es el camino mas facil, pero contenta de que hay sido mi propia eleccion el cogerlo.
Esto va para aquellos que aun pregonan la incapacidad de las mujeres de disfrutar de su independencia y la fatalidad de sus destinos, atadas a la imposibilidad de poder elegir.
Si no me creeis, por desgracia os digo que aun existen personas asi; a estas alturas de la pelicula alguien me ha venido contando un poco mas de lo ya visto (pero que todavia queda por ver) sobre el rollo patriarcal en el que nos han querido sepultar por generaciones y generaciones.
Yos habla una no feminista de corazon. A pesar de no confesar con el credo de las que han venido luchando para establecer algunas diferencias y marcar ciertos limites a lo que deberia estar permitido, no puedo negar la crueldad a la que mi sexo ha sido y sigue siendo sometida por la ignorancia de hombres y mujeres. Por la cobardia de ambos en desafiar lo que la mayoria y el sentido comun han dado en llamar reglas.
Estas solo lo son si las aceptamos. Si nos callamos ante ciertos comentarios ultrajantes y repletos de una ignorancia insultante.
Cual es el punto en el que se solidifican nuestras creencias, en el que encontramos un credo de vida que seguir sin por ello tener que impomnerlo?
Quiero encontrar ese espacio. Mio y nuestro. Pero quizas peque de ilusa.
Muchos me tientan e intentan que pierda mi fe en esa vision de un mundo mejor y mas justo para todos.
Muchos se han quedado aptrapados en su vision egoista de la vida, en donde solo el mas fuerte sobrevive sin que haya necesidad de apoyar y ayudar a nuestros semjantes; no son nuestra incumbencia si sin ellos podemos disfrtutar del comfort que brinda esta ilusion de vida equitativa.
Donde queda la consciencia en este viaje de soltar lastre a toda costa? La compramos y la vendemos a diario. La reducimos o aumnentamos segun sea requerido. La callamos o la pregonamos con argumentos que sabemos falsos pero que no nos duele aceptar como veridicos.

Y yo, solo una mas. Sintiendome tan sola, tan necesitada de que alguien comparta una vision...
Pero esperar ya no es suficiente. La vida te hace paciente con cietas cosas y tremendamente impaciente con otras.
la vida calma el espiritu, acalla las voces interiores que reclaman libertad. y tambien da alas para seguir volando. Simpre en busca de algo mejor, de alguien que merezca ser creido.

Wednesday, 15 July 2009


Was this the most expected event of 2009? Well, at least it was not dissapionting. On the contrary...I had such a fun.

Oasis had filled so many moments of my life with their music, that I felt rather strange that night in Wembly Stadium, singing at the top pf my voice, moving my body to the rythm, like if I was in a ritual where anything negative could be expelled out me by dancing.

Oasis...Like water in the midlde of the desert. Like an allucination of good dreams and hopes, of lines that became poetry and anthems of liberation and faith in a better tomorrow; or at least, of not feeling alone today.

"Whatever you say..." It's gonna be alright, because...Simply...I AM FREE!

Oasis played @ Wembly Satium, London, on the 12th July 2009. I was there. I'll always remember.

Saturday, 11 July 2009

In serach of the Truth. Universal concept or mundane Lie?

The future is looming the paths we take today.
I am starting to realise that my dreams were wrong, as I've always followed the western pattern to have faith in them.
You know what I am talking about...I thought it could happen, but just as a therapeutic escape, as "they" set the rules in here; "they" even dictate the way we have to break them.
Sometimes I think I'm becoming paranoic; other times I feel so lucid that it makes me feel closer to craziness, like if I could see in slow motion the speed of a lie. And I am part of it.
Because the truth is uncomfortable; it hurts, it wakes us up form a sweet'n sour dream.
And then, short after the awakening, it comes the time to take possition, to make big decisions about how's the easist and quickest way to morgage our future. To be a part of the whole.
I guess that then it comes responsability, and all its weight fall on your shoulders with all its rules and limitations, with its promises of freedom and its bank accounts that become the real masters of our destinies.
And then the questions...Is this it? And none is able to answer, despite they declare themsleves the owners of the right way of thinking. And they disperse the doubt with a simple:"I'ts the way it is" charged with transfixed popular wisdom. Or an american "follow the flow".
But my wooden is not made for that fire.
Though I consider it and I live with it as an option...It's not enough. And it doesn't make my life easy to see it this way. On the contrary: It tears me appart every second. And every second I am like the phoenix that rebirhts from his ashes.
People might think I am pretentious, but it's their fear that speaks; fear born from this attitude of mine.
"Some might say..." Oasis explained it better.
I never thought and, I never will, that I am more or less than anybody else.
I am what I am. And so you are.
But our points of view are too different. Like if we belonged to parallel Universes separated by millions of years and thousands of lies.
It might be that our body of truth responds to diverse schemes.
That's the way I like it: be like a salmon, swimming against the stream, but always knowing the way back home.

Sunday, 5 July 2009

For the pettit conformists

Sunday morning. Always a delicious time to spend doing basically nothing.
We do no realise how lucky we are of living under a capitalist system, where the major fights are fought for us by he super powerful neo liberal government.
We are so comfortable trapped in the superstructures that the state creates for us, that when something inside of this routine does not work, they take care of it putting things in the right place without forcing us to make the effort to understand what’s really wrong.
But so many things are wrong.
First, we have reduced the concept of freedom to unimaginable levels. The state deprives us form our real needs and recycles the frustration that it creates in our human souls by feeding us with crap.
The Leviathan has so many options for us to canalise the anger created by its imperfections, that it results very easy for us to loose perspective.
We end up even loosing the will to dream that the dream might become real.
In this side of the world, everything works perfectly well. We only care for the tangible ghost of an economic crisis that cast upon us the desperation of thinking that we can loose our poor status of little bourgeois.
Not far away, men and women are caught up in real wars financed by our greed.
The TV screens tell us what it is real. They provide the means and the ends. They shape our way of thinking that melts under the multicolour options of deciding what we might choose as today’s launch conversation theme.
Escape is as easy as switching off. Telling others that we aren’t in command of how our ELECETED politicians plan to fuck up the world for their own conveniences. As if we did care at all.
We give up the possibility of change when we convince ourselves that is not in our hands to do something about it, adopting an attitude that determines what is our role in society.
We alienate ourselves by accepting the things we should not take for granted and, by doing this, we sell our souls.
But who cares about that anymore? They are not so damn worthy anyway.
Yes, philosophy is necessary. We should use it as an abstraction and as a weapon. As a personal vaccine against ignorance.
Some might say that other options are better. That living with a clean conscience is quite cheap in the end.
The modern religion of Pop Culture, with its poor and conditioned space to protest and contest, with its fake revolutions and fake non-conformism, drives us as angelical sheep following an evil Sheppard.
Philosophy is necessary because it challenges our ways of looking at reality, helping us to see the dialectic march of history, with its heroes and losers, with its engine for change and everyday contradictions.
And it gives us a sense of belonging to a major cause of human nature that goes far beyond our imaginable needs and explains us what is the mean of being what we are.
Sinhue knew about it. Find out by yoursleves by asking him.
Don’t think he was a pessimist or even an existentialist.
He is my fictional hero; my beloved humanist.
Although we would not probably agree with all this I’ve said.
He knew the price of living in a society being a subject that had a mind of his own. He was also aware of his inmortality as human despite the fatal decay and disappearance of our physical bodies. And there relies his optimism and faith in our species.
I haven’t reached that point yet. But I know I am in the process of.

Thursday, 2 July 2009

This is it. The summer striking London streets, pushing its fire into the underground, where people collapse whilst hurrying towards nowhere.
I’m going to listen to the wise counsel of my friends; they have encouraged me to loose control and experiment the painful pleasures of discovering the world untying the foreign meaning of expressions that I still do not fully understand.
I find myself struggling to keep my Spanish voice silenced, but I am afraid you can hear it hanging around this clumsy prose.
Still, this is part of the path I’ve chosen to take when I decided to live in a deserted island, empty of sympathy towards my dreams that now are cherished only by me.
In this land, it’s my duty to take care of the thoughts about my home and forge a new identity that includes many characteristics of this place that I came to love as my own.
None told me how to do that.
It’s a natural reaction in me to miss this city whenever I am away.
It might be also a curse, as this feeling has split my soul in a multitude of pieces that I find impossible to join together.
And this state of being deprives from sense many things that I've always had taken for granted. And all of a sudden, I find myself starting all over again.
I can tell you it’s a hard job looking for meaning once again, when I have thought that the pillars of my knowledge were well settled.
In many respects, this it’s similar to try to find the light after a broken heart; it can be cruel and frustrating at times, but in the long run, all works out for the better.
I know it’s a matter of time to become familiar with the weight of my skin, with the impulses of giving up to the stupid idea that before it was much better, when it was easier and more boring.
Saying to myself that there is no way back that road, gives me strength to keep on going.
Towards the unknown, leaving nothing behind.

Wednesday, 1 July 2009





Hold me down- All the world's asleep

I need you- you've knocked me off my feet

I dream of you- we talk of growing old

but u said please don't.



Now that you're mine we'll find a way of chasing the sun.


in the morning, we don't know what to do




Oasis, Slide Away

I love this part of London.
I could remain for hours sitting on the stairs opposite the Tate Modern, looking at the Millenium Bridge and St Paul's cathedral in the background, watching people passing by.
The Thames running right below Foster's bridge , carrying the rubbish of a city mixed with the hopes of its inhabitants.
I feel sorry for those who can't stay and watch with me the sunset purpling the sky, tranquilizing the waters, sleeping the whole city away.
I stay till the moon decides to show up; its light sneaks in every corner of the narrow alleys of London, painting shadows everywhere she goes.
The night falls...Time to dream...