Raquel's Room

Wednesday, 10 February 2010

Cupido al habla. En que puedo servirle?

Ahora que la gripe A ha pasado de moda, tenemos otro virus circulando por la ciudad que amenaza con atacar a casi toda la poblacion.
Digo a casi toda porque, aunque pueda parecer mentira que en Londres sea imposible estar solo, la verdad es que esta debe de ser la ciudad con mas solteros por metro cuadrado del planeta.
He ahi otra crisis global a la que ya no sabemos como ponerle remedio.
Antes, esto del amor era mucho mas fácil. La vida en pareja era algo asi como natural, a lo que la gran mayoria estaban predestinados.
Hoy las cosas han cambiado. Las distancias son mas pequenas y la mobilizacion masiva de la poblacion ha hecho del cofomismo una cualidad pasada de moda. Ahora, como en el famoso anuncio de detergente, hay que buscar y comparar aunque, cuanto mas se hace, mas confusion y menos satisfaccion se obtiene.
Es que a caso nos ha dado a todos por encontrar la perfeccion? Pues mire usted, yo creo que si; se supone que esta de moda, y las redes sociales creadas para emparejar, aseguran que ese ideal con el que sonabamos de pequenos puede que este en este instante tomandose un capuccino descafeinado en Covent Garden. “No esperes mas” dicen, “ “Apuntate hoy mismo y deja que nosotros te ayudemos a encontrar a tu alma gemela”. A tu que? Queremos encontrar el amor o simplemente matar nuestra soledad? Y de verdad que lo haceis por mi? Vaya, pues si que ha dado vuelta la tortilla.
Os digo que Cupido ya no anda por ahi a ciegas haciendo de las suyas. Es uno mas de los mileuristas explotados, sin derecho a jubilacion, que trabaja de 8 a 6 en uma agencia a donde acuden a diario coraznes solitarios en busca de compania. Y para mas inri, nunca lo pillas en le mostrador a la hora del cafe. Nos ha salido con aspiraciones de funcionario!! Lo que nos faltaba.
Lo de hoy en dia es amor a la carta aunque siguen sin darte garantias, con lo cual, estamos casi como al principio pero sin el "efecto destino" o "sopresa", que puede que nos de mas de un dolor de cabeza, pero al menos se sale de lo corriente, y eso tambien deberia de estar de moda.
Resumiendo: A pesar de la amplia gama de ofertas, por aqui aun quedamos un pugnado de romanticos (e ilusos) que seguimos prefiriendo un flechazo a la vieja usanza antes que un príncipe de catalogo para no dormir!Por mucho que al final nos cueste lamernos las heridas.
Lo edulcorado para los yankis! En Europa...Con dos...

Monday, 8 February 2010

"like always before" is gone

Just like always before is gone. What are you going to make up now to keep me awake in this endless and startless night?
Baby, I am leaving the suitcases behind. Stay there with them.
I've got no more dreams to carry. This time the journey must be done lightly, because I am heading towards the unknown. I can't stay here where everything is so predictable, full of 50s and 60s, loveless and passionless today that do not longer long for adventurous tomorrows.
People is careless and is motivated for the wrong reasons, what makes me feel even more tired.
And, plus, I don't enjoy the beer, and the rain always menaces the sky, but doesn't dare to wet my skin. In here nothing dares. Everything remains behind the impolute glasses that keep velvet and red suede shoes for ladies with too much make-up. Everyone wants to have the first sip, but they fear the full shot.
Everyone hides their fake gazes behind the super cool and expensive Dolce&Gabanna sun glasses that always look the same. Like the heartless army who wears them.
So, here it is to the melody with which once I fall in love, and it doesn't play any longer. Here it is my empty glass with which I'll drink myself to death.
So come on, don't look at me like if you didn't know me at all, because we both know the disappointment is mutual. And here I am...Not doing anything to avoid the inevitable.
I need to find my lost imagined life, because right now, I don't even know who we are. I just find us singing in an uncomfortable stage where the lights are off, and the public stares at us with scary expressions in their faces.
In the name of the future we believed in, let's try once more. Let's tell them we can make it, despite even us, but more important, despite them.

Sunday, 7 February 2010

limbo

Do you remember when you told me that things could not get worse? Well, guess what?! You were wrong.
I am living in the limbo, exiled from the willingness of doing things, of believing in a better option.
And deep inside, I wanna change, but my mind has its hands tied up, and I've lost my soul somewhere, in a forsaken memory that I don't have the strength to remember.
And people in the street, frenetic, loud, disorganised, tasteless, inhuman...they just take from me the few faith I had left. I don' have the minimum interest in believing anything of what they say.
I don't want any guru in my life telling me what is right or not. I already know. And still, I bet everything to the wrong number, hoping that that was my ticket out of this place where every morning is the same.
Farewell my idealism, my imaginary London where once I felt so me.
I woke up today in this messy bed, in a room without view, and you were still here, but I had already left. How can you feel me if I am not there? The ghost of me, promising you something I'll never give you. And you still believe.
Three cheers for the past, when I had all the world to offer. And now the world doesn't have anything that I want. Keep it all till I wake up, I say, and there's no reply.
All this silence embracing me, taking me to a place where none can follow my track. All this ocean to navigate with my bare arms. And the loneliness none can kill. Not even you, with your desperate trying that only asphyxiates me.
Set me free, because in here I am a bird in a cage. I don't want your keys that cant open any lockers. I don't need your words full of air. I don't need the need of you.
Just like the song, if we dance here tonight, even though you don't know the steps, I'll hold you in my arms, and the stage wont' collapse under our clumsy feet. And tomorrow we'll die, as global warming is a fact. So nevermind. Just one more dance.
This heat takes me high tonight. I am addicted to it, like to your voice in the dark, guiding me through the desert of words.
What's is left? I've got nothing. Just a bridge and a Gothic tower. Just a dirty river with no dead bodies swimming with the fish.
Summer is not welcome in this north where no stars can guide you.
Here I am, chatting with solitude, kissing her to forget that once we both loved.