Love your crooked neighbor with all your crooked heart, once said some man called W.H. Auden, I believe. Understanding the meaning is not the hard part, you get we're flawed, and that you have to appreciate people for who they are and all that crap, or at least I believe it means so. The hard part, the part that this Auden guy doesn't say is how to, maybe it's a secret of his, or maybe it's just a universal common knowledge thing, however, for me it is an entire mystery, even if I try. So I just follow my ways.

Mine are those of a hunter, a faceless hunter with no need for food, just glut, or lust. I wake up today and next to me is a girl I believe I have never seen, then I remember. She's still asleep as I see her, her soft face in peace and her body describing curves that cannot be defined as any other thing than art. And so I play this game, to try to find out who she is, just by looking at her, at all of her. By her eye bags I can say she's a student, they're not as huge as to say pre-med, but something worth staying up late. Her toned thighs tell me she goes regularly to the gym, yet she's not a personal trainer. And her breasts, well... they tell me she doesn't beleive in plastic surgery, even if it's so cheap this days...

She wakes up and is hypnotized again by this damned charm of mine, I say I have an important thing by noon and I have to go. She asks for my number, and normally I wouldn't have done this, I would have told her it was stolen, I would have said I'm changeing it soon, I would have said any other thing that didn't contain the word "sure". So I write those digits in a little paper and then I'm amused, of how much of a symbol we have given to a couple of digits in a piece of stained napkin. Glorified paper, that's what we all rely on.

Then, before we go and after she has taken some coffee, she tries to make some small talk. As I was curious about what she studied, I let her procide, tell her about my job, or at least part of it, tell her my goals and dreams, college chicks always fall for goals and dreams. And so she finally tells me, after being surprised I knew she was a student, that she is taking a major in Anthropology, apparently she's smart, or so it goes.

So she finally leaves and so I have the rest of the day, to do that important thing, or lie in the couch watching movies, whatever goes with the day the most. The daytime goes on and then the tedious part ends and so I can go hunting again. I try a new place, maybe the usual spots have the usual crowd, and I'm not up for the usual crowd. Then I see something that dazzles my eyes, it's shiny, I have to have it. I approach, I do some small talk, I am charming, I even have to be sweet. The fish bites.

I come back home as a proud provider, even if there's no family to feed. She looks tall, dark skinned and has inviting hips, which is all I care about at the moment. The night has it's climax... a few times, and then we all go to sleep. It is kind of surprising that I wake up all alone, they usually stay. So I go and fix myself some coffee and look at the mail, while I try to remember her name, or at least her face; or any of the faces or names this week. Anyway, life goes on.

Then something unusual happens, my phone rings.
"Hi?" says the shy voice

"Yes?" I answer, in a very neutral tone

"Oh, hi, it's me. This is kind of awkward, but we met a couple of days ago and I was wondering if we could get coffee some time or something" it is the Anthropologist.

"Sorry, I'm really embarrassed" I lie "who are you?"I do it again

"Oh, sorry, right, I guess you meet people all the time. I'm Jenny, the student" she says, disappointed, they all expect you to remember them, to know from the moment you answer.

"Right, sure, Jenny the student. The thing is that I'm kind of busy today, you know how jobs can be" I say, without the very least intention of being convincing

"Sure, I mean it can be any other day, this week or something" she says, I know it is taking a lot of her to say this, she didn't seemed like the kind of girl who calls back

"Yea... this week won't work for me" I say, giving the exact time of silence to make it my complete answer, and then the right amount of seconds to make it an awkward silence

"Well, that's fine, thanks. Bye" She says, taking the message. Then, when she's about to hang up

"Wait, I'm sorry, it's just that I've been so busy lately. How does next week work for you?" I ask, giving her hope, expecting her to bite, expecting her to just fall for it.

"Ok, I'll see, so next week"
"Next week"
"bye"

I'm still not very sure of why I told her next week, I really doubt it was my subcouncious who had fell for her and was trying to make things right, that doesn't happen, this is not a chickflic. Maybe I just wanted her to get he hopes up, just for the fun of it. So whatever the reason i sat a date for doesn't concern me much. I still won't go.



After Monday arrives and I have to go back to the unexciting world of advertising, I do the usual, I keep up with work, I go to meetings, I meet with some people, I meet with my assistant, I meet with my assistant. And the routine that had been followed for years was now again interrupted on Thursday, when Jenny the student decided to call and set a day for the appointment. And after we set Saturday as the day we can both work it out I freak. I go out of myself and get astonished at the fact that: I considered going.

Not only did I considered going, but i thought about it all friday. All friday when I should have been hooking up with some red hair girl named Candy in the back of my car, when I should have been hunting and lusting by brains out. I was thinking about non-believer-in-plastic-surgery-calling-people-to-ruin-their-Fridays Jenny, the student. And the thought of it, the thought of a perhaps, the thought of a possible future was not as disgusting as considering how out of me that was. Yet I thought about the Anthropologist.

It is saturday noon, I'm blushed, my heart rate is up the ceiling, I'm sweating and the phone rings. It must be her.

"Hi there!"
"Hello?"
"oh, excuse me, is this Brian's phone?"
"Let me ask him" says the woman's voice "yes it is his cellphone, but his kind of busy right now, we are" she said, laughing
"Oh, sorry, well"she was interrupted
"Do you want to give him a message or something?"
"No, I j..."

And I'm still blushed, my whole body is, my heart rate is still high and I sweat some more, then I come.



And I don't know why I do this, I don't know why i still do this to me, to all Jenny the students. I think it helps, it helps filling the void. It helps my crooked heart, or at least I like to think so. I try to maintain this strong face that covers and empty body. And there's where I don't understand this guy W.H., because I have this crooked heart, and I'm so messed up, and I keep messing up, even if there was nothing I would like more than loving my crooked neighbor with this swollen, rotten, crooked heart.




By I'm the penguin