Venga ya!!

Venga ya! Me dije un dia. Ya esta bien de tanta espera en la sala del olvido.
Quizas he estado buscando la accion que tando anhelo en lugares equivocados. Esta masturbacion teorica a cerca de los pasos a seguir para llegar a una meta que cambia de contorno continuamente ha de llegar a su fin. Hoy mismo. No se le puede dar mas tregua al pasado que solo hace de lastre, que nos retiene anclados auna situacion que despreciamos porque no nos ennoblece, sino que nos humilla y degrada.
Todos los objetos que me acompaganron en mi viaje original han quedado anquilosados, desmejorados por el paso del tiempo.
Los obstaculos de los que muchos me hablaban fueron vencidos con teson, lo que no quita que otros se cruzaran en mi camino de tal modo que, en su momento, llegaron a distrosionar mi vision de la realidad en la que todavia creo fervientemente.
Todavia nadie me ha conseguido alejar de mi suegno.
Soy testaruda y me ha costado aceptar la realidad y el peso de lo cotidiano; pero mi naturaleza tenaz no se rinde tan facilmente ante la evidencia de los que quieren que el mundo sea bueno solo para ellos.
Soy mujer, y se de lo que estoy hecha.
No soy quien para generalizar, pero puedo decir bien alto que nadie me ha ensegnado la naturaleza de mi ser.
No he tenido que declarar ninguna guerra para defenderla. Mi territorio lo resguarda mi voluntad y mi fe inquerantable en ella.
Mi libertad no se rebajara a los designios o mandatos ajenos. Y si un dia subyugan mi cuerpo, mi espiritu jamas claudicara a los deseos de poder de entes mezquinos.
Nuestra imaginacion creo el mundo y los que la interpretaron lo echaron a perder.
Nuestars entragans cobijaron y alumbraron esperanzas que otros sometieron al yugo de la opresion.
Nuestro rol ha sido infravalorado en nuestars batallas sin sangre en las que la victoria sigue detrminandose sin llegar a definrse. Cuan dificil dar gusto a todos por igual.
Que naturaleza caprichosa nos creo ta diversos?
En que cabeza cabe tanta locura? Quien conoce el secreto del equiibirio?

Become, be part...BE.

Once upon a time, in a place which name I still remember, there was a boy whom I've met whilst we were both travelling around a small planet. He might have been from there. I don't know if he never told me or if I forgot to ask him.
He liked to draw ... he liked to dream...This reminded me of some character I used to admire when I was a little girl. This boy, for some reason, reminded me of this character whom I think he had a rose that loved him very much.
She cried hersef to death when he decided to abandon her to see another world that was not enough to imagine.
And he could not possibly have imagined that the world he dreamt to discover would be the way it was.
This boy I've met told me the story that had been told many times before him by people who also shared the same or similar expectations. A story about broken dreams, unfunfilled hopes, time consuming willingness which ends up in sorrows...
He told me about a world he dreamt of and about the person he wanted to become in this world.
I said to him that becoming it's a painful process, but it's a natural one too.
The shaping of our thoughts come to us from the outside; we let it enter conciouslly, and unconciously, we'll never be the same. Or it might be the other way around.
You don't become artificially. Only idiots who play to be gods do that. Only insecurity can be the mother of such an enterprise.
I said to him that becoming is not a plan for life. Accepting the way things flow inside you, it is.
He wanted to master nature. He fooled himself, for nature was not made to be a man's slave.

We both were so young by then.... Maybe full of blood, ignorant of how that stream that run towards the ocean of our souls was prompt to dry.
We were the same and time turned the similarities in unreconciliable differences we didn't know how to save.
I abandoned him. I left him with the doubt and his self pity. I could not save him. I refused to pay that penitence that forced me to watch our love die. How could he aksed me to witness that?
Our place in the world wasn't cursed. We used to call it home, at times paradise. Indeed it was. And we spoilt it by letting our frustations in.
By themselves, they never found their way out. By ourselves, we couldn't satisfied our desires for more of god knows what.

By myself I found a way I never had imagined that could exist.
That road was so lonely and cold and many times I felt tempted to go back and throw myself in those arms that once had meant the world to me because they were my fortress, my pillars, my comfort... They were part of me. I was that body once.
For many nights I felt limbless without him inside me. I felt lost without the scnet I used to follow in the dark that always guided me towards him.
That road was tasteless whitouth his lips and the flavour of his mouth.
But... one day.... All those things stop having meaning. I supressed it from them and founded me.
I discovered the subjectivity of menaining, the tricks that our mind plays with to trap us in one way alley. I made the key of my freedom and named myself the Queen of my kingdom.
That boy I've met in that place which name I still remember, still wonders how the world is or how it's possible it is not the way he had imagined it to be.
He doesn't know he is to scared to find out.
But who isn't?

with love and malice

Writing about this, not knowing what any of those things means, it's perhaps a bit pretentious from me .
I never recalled to be in posesion of knowledge, and therefore, having that in mind, the over powerfull tranquility of ignorance will give me its permission to talk freely; to be myself, not giving a damn about the possibility of being right or wrong. Nothing will ever again be measured according to those standards.
I am going to make my own rules because I am not longer scared of hurting myself by hurting you, as you never were.
But I am afraid I don't want to know any longer. That's a thrill it does thrill me no more.
I'll keep the secret to myself, since everyone seems so eager to know.
There's a price to pay for everything in this ridiculous reality, in this fake scenario where all of you perform a boring role it does not move me inside as it used to when I too believed.
And here I am, laughing at my stupid idea of looking for a bit of authenticity in all the lies they told me before and that I took for granted.
Right now the enlightenmetn seems so far from reach... Just another promise; another boring stupid promise that none will dare to keep.
Under the gun held by the truth, I confess my sins. I give myself to it, I open my eyes wide and scareless to find the pieces of my unbreakable heart hanging from the fifth floor where I'll jump from.
No net. No fear. plenty of emotions flying free.

stage 1

Para que salir corriendo? A caso te ha contagiado la muchedumbre sus prisas de llegar a niguna parte?
Hoy soy una con la lluvia que cae a y se desliza por las fachadas de los edificios y por mi piel que la recibe a poros abiertos.
Dejo que se lleve toda la suciedad, todas las lagrimas que fueron en vano, las 1661 formas que tenia de amarte.
Pronto se despeja el cielo y de pronto cambia el rumbo de mis pasos, que nunca han sido fijos pero que ahora, por primera vez, tienen un proposito.
Corro sobre el asfalto queriendo degastarlo para resucitar el bosque que dormita soterrado bajo su gris tan monotono.
Me siento y recapacito sore lo que esta por venir. Lo que se fue, se fue. El pasado ya no me interesa. Lo que quiero de el, lo tengo aqui y se que no voy a perderlo. El resto no merece la pena; es solo una leccion que aprender. Quizas un recuerdo en el que columpiarme, pero del que no me voy a quedar colgando como una marioneta sin voluntad.
Soy tan libre como me proponga, pues no creo en los limites que se pueden romper con voluntad de hierro.
Quien quiera seguirme, solo tiene que hacerlo. No necesito que me regalen palabras que no significan nada.
Ahora, tumbada sobre este parque pronto a recibir el Otogno y su alfombra de hojas muertas, sonrio y me deshago en mil pedazos que se plantan en la tierra humeda que los toma gustosa.
Desaparezco en el verde en el que entierro los recuerdos de los que brotaran nuevas esperanzas la proxima primavera.
Recojo lo que queda de mi y renazco del fuego eterno. He decidido arder sin quemarme. He decidido dar paso a la pasion incontrolable, hermana postiza de la razon pura.
Vuelvo al camino del que nunca debi alejarme, deslizandome por el filo de un verso que te quiere mas que nunca pero que ya no produce mas poesia para ti. La reservo para un dia mejor.
Por arte de la magia que no se de donde proviene, vuelvo a tener fe en el paraiso del que jamas fui desterrada.
Alejandro no lo sabe, pero se lo digo yo: e paraiso es un lugar mental. Esta aqui, babe.

Untitled

Where are all the sunsets the Spring had promised me?
Boticelli used them to paint his Venus coming out of the sea like a pearl sorrouded by envious gazes. Since then they are gone.
I enjoyed them in a different life, when we played fearless with the fire of knowledge.
Back then we were mortals whose only sacrifices conisisted in letting the time pass by withouth being scared by the scars it printed in our skins.
We were not aware of the price to pay to become gods, untouched by the lightening, by the fear, by the uncomfortable despair of a good bye.
We did not sucumbed to the words of prayers who believed in an better life. We maintained our thoughts straight, even when everything around us looked prompt to fall under our feet.
We waited till the last moment, like those notes floating on the surface of the Titanic did before the last hope sunk with them in the long way down to eternity.
We waited till "The End" was too obvious, and the lights awoken us from the dream.
Sleepy we started to walk appart.
Perhaps it was meant to be this way.
Perhaps I won't find any more reasons to build up a better me.
I want to have faith in te words of my heroes and listen to them talking to me from their graves once more.
How many more times is this going to happen?
I don't dare to wish.
But I am sure I will.

Weekend in London

London (1)

I am only happy when it rains...And, despite I consider myself a believer in the bright side of life, my only colours are the black and white.

London is more than a place. It's a destiny, the start of a pligrimage for lost people who come here looking for shelter from their inside worlds, escaping or embracing reality in all its forms.

London has many faces, and it takes time to get used to its agressive "take it or leave it, but do not stand in my way".

A closed- up look at it has left me equally marvelled and disenchanted.

It's frustating not being able to grasp the speed that moves this enormous metropolis, which has spread inside me like a virus.

And I can feel it growing, taking possesion of me like an unborn child, sucking my life, transforming me into a different person.

Like books I have read, London has changed my vision of people, of their intentions and nature.

It has been quite a journey travelling around the believes and fears of a cosmopolitan community that regards London as its home.

The Japanese tourists do not take the load of humanity that this city oozes with its good an evil.

They just put their masks on to fight the desease than hangs in the tube, in the middle of busy streets, in the palaces with unwilling kings and murderous queens.

London is a multilingual expert lover. An affair with our wildest dreams and our basic insticts. An enormous bed that holds criminals and saints making love to each other with the lights on and their eyes closed.

This oracle might not have all the answers we are desperate to find, and we might remain lost during our stay.

But not lifeless objet has the power of becoming the engine of change.

A city means nothing withouth the role played by our aspirations in its construction and subsistnece. If it it lacks them, it's just a collection of buildings, of cars and stores, of impersonal faces.

This is just another scenario that will forget our names soon after we leave it.

Nevertheless, we still have the chance of making thsi moment inmortal by taking the revolutionary road of not being just the objects of change but the authors of it.

There are so many different ways of loving and living London, that this one is just a beggining.

La produccion de sinceridad, ese mal tan necesrio para los adictos a las emociones fuertes.

He pensado que producir un pedazo de sinceridad es demasiado costoso hoy en dia, asi que voy a abandonar mi credo personal para sumergirme en la insoportable levedad del ser de los que solo son.
Voy a contaros un par de mentiras que construyan la imagen de lo que no soy, por la que inevitablemente sere juzgada por los que se consideran en posesion de juicio.
Dejare de lado un don del que carezco para saciar estas ansias de venganza en contra de todo en lo que jamas crei y que, a fuerza de desengagnos, ha pasado a convertirse en el pan mio de cada dia.
Dios, perdona mis pecados. Liberame de este valle de lagrimas.
Alma mia, dejame caer en la tentacion; no permitas que viva atada a lo que los demas piensan que debe ser.
Dame fuerzas para seguir por el camino de la perdicion y autodestruccion con la misma determinacion que solo se atreven a tener unos cuantos desaprensivos y con el unico equipaje del miedo a no tener miedo.
Espero que los que buscan gangas en el mercadillo de su cutre vida, encuentren las mismas insinceridades que ellos venden por un precio justo y razonable.
Y cuando el ataud pase factura a los que comerciaron con los sentimientos, solo unos cuantos gusanos dandose el festin en la carne pronta a pudrirse, seran testigos de lo poco que fueron.
Y aun queda mas maldad. Mucha mas. Las reservas de este recurso natural son desgraciadamente inagotables.
Para aplacarla, ya no bastan las palabras, ni las guerras santas. El amor que movio el mundo en su dia, tan solo y desprotegido, no se atreve a defender una causa en la que nadie cree.
Ya no me abruma la intriga de los silencios, ni la profundidad del misterio.
Al contrario: Me sobrecoge la simplicidad del mundo, con su cara falsa de arlequin, payaso lloron cuya tristeza no temina de convencer.

You must remember this...a kiss is just a kiss...no matter what the future brings, as time goes by...decia la cancion.
Y el tiempo, que no se puede vencer a si mismo, es mi dios esta noche.
El tiempo que trae el olvido a todos nosotros, el cual nos engullira tarde o temprano, con nuestras aspiraciones, suegnos, tristezas y alegrias.
Y asi, en este preciso instante, todo tiene sentido para no tenerlo un instante mas tarde que ya es ahora, y que ahora ya no es.
Desde ahora ya no es y... nunca sera.

Antichrist- A question about human nature.

Lars Von trier last film, in a very unique way wonders around a very profound and in some cases disturbing question, the question about human beings nature.  Are human beings good or evil, black or white, pure or impure............ What is our nature? Very explicitly Lars Von trier presents what most people want to deny about human nature. He travels deep inside the unconscious and brings about all the dark and horrendous thoughts that a human being could have. Very shocking of course, for a society that encourage repression and believe perfection could be achieved. Consequently, people prefer not to recognize  this dark and unconscious side. In fact, we feel disgust when is clearly presented to us, as Lars Von trier does, and instead try to fool ourselves and cover our eyes. Nevertheless, it is and will be there, it is part of our human nature and somehow it will always find the way to express itself, to be alive.  I love the way the film leads a journey to the protagonist’s unconscious, by the way brilliantly performed. I would like to finish with an interesting thought found in Carl Jung’s book the undiscovered self: “none of us stands outside humanity’s black collective shadow. Whether the crime lies many generation back or happens today, it remains the symptom of disposition that is always and everywhere present -and one would therefore do well to possess some “imagination in evil,” for only the fool can permanently neglect the conditions of his own nature. In fact, this negligence is the best means of making him an instrument of evil”.