I would escape

Posted by SgtPepper | Posted in | Posted on Saturday, February 28, 2009


I'm guessing it would take them approximately an hour or two, if I'm lucky probably more. It would have to be on a weeked, that's for sure. I would have to be sthealty, and  in the mood, because with the existing consequences, I better be in a rush or else I would never do it. Perhaps going out from the front door would be the best idea, the back door is suspicious, it is always the secrets that go in and out from the back door. I would probably leave a letter behind, but that would only be in the most glamorous of cases.

I think I would need at the very list two hundred, maybe less, it would really vary of the situation of departure. But if we're talking big leagues, I would need more, perhaps a thousand, a map would be useful too; it's not clever to run away penniless and lost. Just in case I should take a sweater and a change of clothes, since it's quiet obvious I won't be able to buy everything new. A flash light could be handy, but not as much as the will of leaving, that is something I should have in hand at any moment when I do it.

I have considered before going to friend's houses, but that would just be stupid, for more impossible that is sounds parents communicate among themselves too. But wandering the streets would be even more stupid, in case they find out soon and go out looking for me, I won't be too far to track. So I would have to go to a concrurred place, obviously not somewhere I go to regularly, well it's not like they know where I go in the first place.

A letter would be a nice detail, perhaps, but I'd much rather just leave. Because the letter means you planned it through, which I really won't; it says a part of you regrets it and so you apologize by leaving something from you behind; but I won't regret a thing. So instead I might just go, or even send a short email, just for the mockery that such a media device would bring into the situation. "Dear mom and dad... I ran away, I can't stand you, specially you mom. PS. Don't forget to moan the loan, I won't be doing it this sunday" Maybe by seeing how it grows for several months they would notice.

I could stay in a hotel, but I would have to save more money, then again I would sleep in a park or something. I have been thinking that perhaps it would be wise to buy the cheapest ticket to anywhere, so I wouldn't have to worry about them finding me. But there is also the friend factor, perhaps I would miss them eventually, or they would be worried about my departure, who knows. 

Maybe I should just do it, move to another city, first live like a bump for some weeks, then get some super crappy job at a store who would let me stay there at night. Then with enough money buy a fake birth certificate and all, have another name, another place of birth, another everything. Then I would move on, switch on and live on. And then maybe, only maybe would they notice I'm not there, once I'm not miserable.

[pfft, a blog? this? nah!]
By I'm the penguin

It's thought that counts

Posted by SgtPepper | Posted in | Posted on Friday, February 27, 2009


"I don't think they're your colors, but still…”
“Erm, no they’re not, but I like it though.”
“Well, I don’t really expect you to wear it anyways.”
“I will wear it sometime.”
“You should.”
“So, can you tell me why this? I mean, you’re not the ‘outfit-for-present’ type of person.”
“Why do you mean? I’m totally fashionable... (Eye-roll)”
“Sureee… What I mean is, I don’t know, I thought you were just going to give me a lame copy of my present as you usually do.”
“What? Lame? You ass, that was offensive and not nice.”
“I’m never nice.”
“Keep telling yourself that. Specially because I am.”
“Well, I suppose that summarizes the discussion of color and outfitting..”
“It does.”

[Mrs. K i t e]

now, keep reading...


Posted by SgtPepper | Posted in | Posted on Thursday, February 26, 2009


"So, Henry, what do you think you will be when you grow up?" asked the kinder garten teacher.

 "My body structure will enlarge, my muscles will develop and my endocrine system will activate, then I will reach sexual maturity. Some years later I will be old, my system is going to crash, ending with my dead"

"How funny, where did you learned those words? I mean, what do you want to do when you grow up?"

"Well, I will take you want to know my professional diecision at this stage, which is kind of stupid. But to be honest I don't know, I am not able to see the future and the uncertainty is too great to do any educated guesses" the child said

"Oh come on Henry, don't be shy. C'ommon class, let's all encourage HEnry to tell us" she said, talking to a large group of 6 year olds.

Come on Henry! was heard in all sorts of voices, all too high to be audible.

"There is no point on telling a random answer, if I clearly know I'm lying" he said

"Well, what would you want to do?" said the smiling woman

"I don't really have desiers" he said

"Oh Henry, don't be that way, we all have wishes!" she said

"I find wishing a waste of time, there is no way you can know if you are going to succeed, so if you don't attach to an idea, you don't get disappointed, or frustrated. So instead, take things as they come" he said

"Well, isn't that a bit stoic now? Oh sorry, you must not know that word." she said, trying to be funny.

"Oh, well, it turns out I do. But isn't trying to fix to an idea of a destiny and an invariable outcome  more stoic, and at the same time stupid, knowing is just all so multivariable and possible to fail?" said the 6-year-old

"It's nap time"

[“It’s a miracle that curiosity survives formal education”(Albert Einstein).]
by I'm the penguin


Posted by SgtPepper | Posted in | Posted on Wednesday, February 25, 2009


Today was the day to perhaps repost something, because the truth is I lost control… again
But I by no mean... intend to make this whole post about me, (ha sure)... so, as always I went to my safe happy place 8-|
[Mrs. K i t e]
laugh at the tag please xD

Familiar strangers

Posted by SgtPepper | Posted in | Posted on Tuesday, February 24, 2009


"So how is the party so far?" She asked, dancing to 90's rock, smoking her 80's thick cigarettes. “Really cool place you brought me this time" I said, looking at the dozens of underage drinking dancers. 


"I told you I wouldn't let you down this time, didn't I?" she said, with her signature chic smirk.  Her yellow short dress looked orange with the fuzzy lightning. "You know, I'm just happy I got you away from that internet crap, this is the real thing" she said, speaking a bit louder than those matters should be spoken like. "Shh" he shushed "Not here". 


"Oh sorry Lonleeboy8, with double e instead of y" she said, turning me red in the second, which just made me match with the ambiance. "Hey, I'm here aren't I?" I said, with the two grams of dignity left. "Whatever J, let's just get you some hot chicks" she said, sounding as if I needed a new coat for the winter. But, I indeed was cold.


So Liz took me from the arm and dragged me to this really crowded corner, I figured people gathered for pot or some other crap. Great, Liz got me junkies, this will be a good story to tell Dr. Cabot- the guy in charge of telling my parents I'm just a normal kid, who has apparently failed- I thought. There were many lounges and people all over the place. Then she pulled me some more until we were in front of a red sofa with a group of girls who seemed to be having a blast (two were sleeping). I couldn't give a good look at them, the smoke and red lighting made them all seemed annoyed. Or perhaps they were just not the party type.


"So, this is my good friend Jack, the one I told you about" Sarah said, and something of what she said had sounded bad. Maybe the "the one I told you about" part. "Huh, I somehow expected someone cuter, I don't know, almost all artists are cute." said the girl in pink, rectangle-necked dress; or perhaps it was white.


"Hey, he kind of has his thing going on" the most awake girl said "Don't listen to her, she's just bitter that guy over there hasn't ever looked over here" she said, pointing at some Impossible-to-get-Hollister-model. "You actually look familiar" she said, looking closer at me, I had the feeling as well. "Oh, I can feel the sparks already. Jess, did you know Jack just got dumped by some silly girl?" Liz said to the girl. "Poor thing" she said, not even pretending enthusiasm "Is that what the rebound girl should sound like?" she said, making me feel like some sort of sick pervert.


She had actually sounded serious, until she cracked up and laughed very hard. "You should have seen you face" and she continued to laugh. "So why did this silly girl dumped you? Do you collect your nails or something?" she asked, actually looking sort of interested. "Well, I did put them in my secret place under my bed" I said, trying her sense of sarcasm. She laughed. She passed.


"Well Jackie boy, perhaps you should be more secretive about your fetishes" Jess said. By this time Liz had already managed to disappear along with the smoke, she had actually became really good at that lately. But she had actually introduced her a nice girl, after many sad, pathetic and dangerous attempts. "How long had you been together?" she asked.


"Well, it wasn't some long relationship where at the end I was crying myself away for weeks. It was just something actually fast." I said, which was for my luck the que for her to move from topic. After speaking of my not so impressive serigraphy, going through her fascination for bubble wrap squishing (which was actually quiet very obsessive), we ended up in some political debate about bringing democracy to other countries. By then I knew she was obsessive, literate, single, and the mother of my future children (if everything went right).


"You know, I haven't actually looked at you clearly all this time" I said, like if it had been forever. "We could go outside, I think there is light there... or not" she said, yes, definitely it was true love. "Is that a naughty invitation Ms. I-stole-bubble-wrapping-paper-from-Fedex-several-times?" 


"Let's find out" she said, standing up and taking my hand.


We walked through the party, which looked the same, just a little more vomit in the floor and less people jumping like maniacs, they were now sleeping like maniacs. We walked through some weird hall that was a clear sign that the party was no longer there. It was completely dark, except from the occational flash light from the party.


"Are you sure of where are we going?" I asked in my confusion. "Do I look like I know?" she said "Well, I can't really see you can I?"


"So, now, tell me, why did this girl dump you?" she asked, it now sounded actually serious. "Due to distance" I said, trying to be vague. We were still walking, towards what looked like an exit. "So what? she moved?"Jess asked, sounding even sorry for me. "Well, we were never really close..." I said, knowing the truth was eventually going to come out. "I'm not following" she said, looking at me, at least I think. "We weren't close because we never really met, it was an online thing" I said, really fast, praying for her not to have understood a word. 


Then there was a huge silence. Then there was a huge "Shit!". "Erg, are you fine, or is it just the feeling of almost making out with a loser" I asked, trying to make things better, and at that I too failed. "What were the odds?" she said almost to herself. And so she kept walking, and I followed, she didn't mind.


We were near the exit door and she stopped. "This will sound very stupid and ridiculous, but my second name is Alice... I know, terrible combination, blame my parents" she said, saying it like if she had just diagnosed me some unknown virus. "Now I'm not following" I said, very distracted by the hysteria of the moment. "It just takes you boys longer doesn't it?" she said, opening the door, letting the light in, letting me see her face for once. I just silenced and realized. "Alice... as in AliceINwonder huh?" I said "Shit indeed". 

[hopes it turns out right]
By I'm the penguin

Also short...

Posted by SgtPepper | Posted in | Posted on Monday, February 23, 2009


El hombre invisible
Aquel hombre era invisible, pero nadie se percató de ello.
Gabriel Jiménez Emán

Cuento de horror
Juan José Arreola
La mujer que amé se ha converido en fantasma. Yo soy el lugar de sus apariciones.

El sueño de Chuang-Tzu
Chuang-Tzu soñó que era una mariposa y no sabía al despertar si era un hombre que había soñado ser una mariposa o una mariposa que ahora soñaba ser un hombre.”
Herbert Allen Giles: Chuang-Tzu

[Mrs. K i t e]
also short, but I got these.. also intresing which i like...

About destinies and syrguries

Posted by SgtPepper | Posted in , | Posted on Sunday, February 22, 2009


Made of human
A set of four systematic steps had brought her into life, from the genetic code, to the copy, to the station, until her cloning. She hadn’t chosen to be born in rough places, she hadn’t chosen to be exactly like the next gal, but she had. For some reason her inner desires seemed dull, controlling electric currents in the upper side just appeared a waste of time. She wanted to travel the world; she wanted to visit mouth and probably sighting the eye. She had wishes, she had dreams. But mother R didn’t. So today she controls electric currents in the upper side.

How it goes
"Yes, to be honest I can't stand you anymore"
"So why are you still here?"
"You have ensurance, I have cancer"
"... Since when do you..."
"I said I can't stand you"

The solitude of a proton
Claude was selfish, Hyna was all about giving. Their pairing always ended up with Claude leaving Hyna, for others, multiple others, multiple times. Hyna sometimes got someone, but it was just a rebound, for she always ended up with Claude. That untill she met Oxan, who ened up taking her into his harem.

Raul was a worried girl
She was worried about the boob-stealing-coke-implating new sort of criminals, she had just got a newbreast implant. She had worked hard for it, but in her neighborhood there were several crimes, one which had changed her life. She used to be named Raul. Raul felt always out of place, he looked at the mirror feeling something was wrong. Until he once got attacked, and castrated, he would enver be the same, and he wasn't relieved. But part of him finally felt right. Later he got the job completely done, then she got the breast implant. Now she was worried about the boob-stealing-coke-implating criminals, they were frequent down the 3rd St.

[So yea, I didn't have the mind to develop compelte fiction, so why not mini-fiction?]
By I'm the penguin

Interesting Batteries

Posted by SgtPepper | Posted in | Posted on Saturday, February 21, 2009


When the batteries died, there was no more channel changing to do. He had been zapping all day long, and now, it was time to stop. He stood up, and turned out the TV, “Seven hours without watching anything, geez, TV has become lame.” He said to himself. We gave a walk around this flat, thinking about interesting things to do, but he was not interesting, or creative enough to become interesting in that moment. He opened the fridge, there wasn’t even anything to eat, or to cook and then eat. So he went to his room, changed his shirt and jeans, and left the house towards the most interesting restaurant he could find. Heading downtown, he saw this place, full of mirrors. To his understanding, places full of mirrors where somehow a synonym of interesting-people places, so the parked there. As he entered, he realized his assumptions where probably not mistaken, (finally). So he made his way in, and sat on the first two-person table he saw, he didn’t even wait for the hostess to assign him, but that was what interesting people did, they sat there as if they where family friends.
Turning around the place, he saw some interesting faces, which included, (most importantly) female interesting faces. A redhead girl with messed up hair, and clothes full of color saw him, he smiled and she returned the smile… oh this was way far interesting for him. He ordered something to drink with an exotic name, and the girl kept sending interesting sights at him, he felt nervous… (was this the end to his uninteresting life?)

[Mrs. K i t e ]

Masks in the dark

Posted by SgtPepper | Posted in | Posted on Friday, February 20, 2009


There is this thing, where we are secretly attracted to what we fear. Because some say we only fear what we don't know, but it is also that sort of dark attraction towards it that makes us fear it. Maybe it is just the need to feel the adrenaline running trough our veins, maybe it is just a wrong impression I have, but doesn't the darkness call you from time to time? Isn't the whistle from the ghostly night wind something we all praise for? Isn't fear a tad of the principle of attraction?


So lets just embrace the darkness of it all, at least for a second. Then go back to fear.

By I'm the penguin

Big thoughts.

Posted by SgtPepper | Posted in | Posted on Thursday, February 19, 2009


“Remember always to be sure, before you pour the solution in the flask.”
“Yes sir.” Sure? How’s one supposed to be sure? I know I know. Gas isn’t supposed to be coming out, and the solution must have a yellowish color… But there’s no way of being sure, of anything… Maybe I’m daydreaming and the solution I’m pouring, is not actually a solution but a thought. There’s no way of being sure.
And still, if I thought I was, it’s only a thought.
And I don’t even know what they mean by “yellowish”
“Damn it, pour it now!”
“The solution, come on, wake up!”
“Oh, yes…”
I poured the solution.
“So… It’s something supposed to happen?”
“Of course, didn’t you read the practice?”

Back home.

I’m looking at the lamp. And I wonder how long has it been turned on. I can’t find an answer, so I turn it off.
“Not anymore.” I say to myself.
“Dinner is ready.”
I’m not hungry.
“How was your day?”
It was…
“OK? Have you noticed, “OKs” are about half of your vocabulary since you returned.”
“Are they? I’m sorry mom.”

[Mrs. K i t e]

The kayak and the yate

Posted by SgtPepper | Posted in | Posted on Wednesday, February 18, 2009


It had took a while for the penguin to make the decision but he had now, so he had gotten in the line along with the others. Took a little triangled paper with his number and just waited, like the others. "You're here early" said the giraffe, who was a hundred numbers ahead, but could make a time to go back and speak to the penguin. "Au contraire mon ami, il est un peu tard!" said the blue-white-red parrot. If late of early, the penguin didn't really care, what matter was what waited at the end of the line.

Because it was not a common line, it was not one of those tedious ones which take forever in which everyone goes to the same place, this line was all about going to different places. Everyone took a vehicle and sailed into the uncertainty, of course they got to pick their vehicle, at the very least. And it was kind of a hard choice, because in a way it was a race, a race to know which path in which ship was the first to get to the promised land of accomplished lives and comfortable retirements. And that, all of it, terrified the penguin to his bones.

He had gotten into the line because it was time, he was told it was just right to move into it, he thought it was just time to move into it. But no one should ever be forced into that line, but we all are. Anyways, the penguin was very unsure about which vehicle to ride. He had heard of some interesting ones, some that in time he could master. But deep down honesty told him only two were for him. And there it lied the problem, the decision, the one of the various decisions that could change all about his journey to nirvana.

One was a hot ride, all new- 9 speed- coached and crafted by perfectionist. Which had everything he wanted, but it was too risky, the fuel is a problem now and was a problem then. (We need to stop depending on fossil fuel.) And being all that honest, the roads it took needed too many detours into the poles, and the penguin had never heard of any other penguin trying to leave the equator, there just was where they lived. So, in recap, it was risky, needed a lot of work done and was very ambicious. It was a all or nothing situation.

Then there was this really confy kayak. It was reliable, trusted by people around the village and made by some of the coolest people around. But it also happened that it went into a straight line, sure the penguin could make it detour into the poles like the other, but by the shape of the boat, it just seemed harder. And the penguin had always had secret wishes of being in the poles, of finding nirvahana there(, along with Santa Claus).

So despite the penguin was annoyed by this being a poorly displayed alegory, he needed to confess that he was lost. Both options seem to be able to take him to the same place, but like the flying kite once said "What is interesting is what is in-between". So which would have the better inbetween? And he kept wondering.

Of course until he decided to go for the ______ and lived _______ ever after. The end. Fill the blank with uncertainty, for uncertainty it shall always be.

[look at me, disgracefully blogging about such unimportant stuff as me...]
By I'm the penguin

The in-between part

Posted by SgtPepper | Posted in , | Posted on Tuesday, February 17, 2009


Please listen while reading.

You hear the faraway violin, which could mean nothing else than melancholy, but in about 10 seconds, you’ll realize it isn’t. It is actually a plead, a sort of thing you ask without even expecting an answer, even if you look as in a pathetic love story in which you’re the unloved, but you still ask. And it is a short song, and there’s no time for hesitating, you just do it. You don’t care about the ending, because it might be as melancholic as you thought the beginning was going to be, you care about the mid part. When there’s a lovely song playing, in the “in-between” of an answer and a supposition. So give me a reason. Because I repeat, the reason won’t matter after you’ve sang that.
And you never do, you keep listening to the song, wishing for it to be a part of your life’s soundtrack sometime, because at least it would be interesting towards the end of the movie when everything seems to fall down, and nothing makes sense. You want to feel how you want to feel forever, and all this circles your mind, but remember, it’s not the ending part what counts…

So this is Kite’s way of giving advice, it is not intended to be a romantic advice per se, but if it is, then the interesting part happened before you read this, before the end.

[Mrs. K i t e]


Posted by SgtPepper | Posted in , | Posted on Monday, February 16, 2009


So it goes, I try to keep their pace but they speak too fast, I get some of the ideas, others just fly away. Sometimes I think I'm not getting what they actually want to say, but with the time I'm becoming a better translator. Sometimes they are too many, sometimes they just speak all at the same time and I can't understand any, others there is no one to speak, not a sound. It has happen that they come with no invitation, just a word, a sound, a joke and they feel they can just swing in and break into my room. 

And it has also happened that when they are invited, not a single one has the nerve to appear.I have to aquiant a few shy ones, they are there, standing all alone. They all have thri two pennies, but some just keep it to themselves, and then it is when I have to speak for them, and in a way they are telling me their story, but that way I never know if I'm making it up. Because of course it's not all in the imagination, the voices are the ones ho create the stories, arrive into our minds and then try to desperatly go out.

 And so I take a pencil and paper and listen to them, and take note of all what they want to say, with an extra comma here and there, changing the begining metaphor and probably making it shorter, but one way or another, they all end up telling me their story.

By I'm the penguin

The Post-Valentine Note

Posted by SgtPepper | Posted in | Posted on Sunday, February 15, 2009


I was just listening, and at the other side of the phone you talked. You talked about the things you always talk, the things I hate so much to hear. I wanted to hang up, just like that, press the TALK button (to stop talking) to unplug the line, and say it was an accident. But then, I would have to explain why I didn’t call back. Something similar to a “the line is screwed” but any polite explanation I could give was anything near honest. And all I wanted was that, being able to say “I fucking hung up because I was tired of listening to you, please don’t call me ever again, I believe it’s for the best. For MY best.” I couldn’t be that selfish, I wish I was, but I wasn’t.
I wanted you to be here. Badly. I needed someone to hug. Someone to tell me everything was going to be OK. And that it was OK to feel like that, that it was OK to be selfish. Someone to tell me “Fuck everyone and everything. Dude you’re you, c’mon. And I’m me…” And then I would give a “that was so smart” sarcastic-kinda-look. And you would laugh. I missed you, a lot.
There’s no one in earth with whom I can share the thoughts of a pathetic and amazingly funny existence.
I don’t know what should I think about you, love?


[Mrs. K i t e]
Dr.Noon before the 'doctor' part...

about the songs... human? human after all?, ( in my defense i need to add: my playlist is full of strange things..)

Love in Saint Valentine's

Posted by SgtPepper | Posted in | Posted on Saturday, February 14, 2009


"Is this how it ends?" he asked, tears in his face and sight sank in the car floor."I guess so" she said, trying to sound as less of a bitch as she could. She was measuring the situation to know when was it right to open the door and run away, but he was still there, crying, sobbing and looking like a lost puppy. She was thinking that now it wasn't a good idea to get a sensitive guy.

 "Was it the fact that I always arrive late?" he asked, with the voice of a death-sentenced man. "You were never late, and it was actually comfortable knowing you good always be there at the time you said you were going to." she said, trying to avoid the voice of the hangman. But she was the dumper, she had ended it all; and in that way relationships were very selfish and complicated, she thought. For it to happen the two are needed to be in it, but for it to end it was only needed that one was out. And she was out, not just out of the field, out in the freaking street. 

"Don't cry, you'll find a nice girl" she said, stupidly trying to make it better. "I don't want other nice girls, I want you" he said, with his deep blue and soaked eyes staring at her, his eyes were always so honest. "That's not completely true" she said, looking at the window, the cars passing, and the people in the streets, everyone just so normal. They would never know, none of them, that she felt like shit, or that she wished more than anything to get out of there. "That's the thing, it is not that you are late, or that you always say inappropriate jokes about race, or that you are not a fan of my friends" she said, "it is that you don't like me."

 "What the hell do you mean? I never cheated on you; I got you something special for every month anniversary. I don't understand you. Is it because of that? Is this some kind of test?" he asked, desperate. "No it's not a test" she said, observing clearly the reason of the dumping. "I don't deny you did any of those great things, it's just that you did it because you thought you had to, not because you wanted to" she said, trying to be as clear as possible. "I feel you are... were in this relationship because you liked the idea of having one, the concept of a girlfriend. I am not a concept." 

"I really don’t know what you're talking about. I mean, who the hell breaks up with someone in Saint Valentine's?" he was now just frustrated. "It is that, it is specifically that, you gave me this sweet 'I wove you' Hallmark car because it is Saint Valentine’s, not because you thought about me. I'm not asking you to make a whole personalized letter in the sky, but it just seems that you're part of the cosmism, in a love degree. It's like you want to buy me" she said, not making her mind of what she wanted to say.


"Are you implying that I'm trying to buy you with the presents? Because regular girls simply consider the gifts" he said, he had no idea of what was going on. "No, it's not that. It is that you are... were with me because it is what it was expected from you after we got close, you do things because you think you should, because some corporative-holiday tells you it should be nice to buy me something. When have you given me something personal? A CD with our favorite songs, a scrap book, an I don't know what." she said, getting even more confused.

 "I only did that because I care about you" he said. "You care about the idea of your girlfriend who you can introduce to your friends, your lovely girlfriend who you can take home to your mom. You care about your girlfriend, but I'm also Alissa, a woman with hopes and favorite songs, who hates to go to malls and likes to break glass." she said, recognizing the same sight of confusion and lack of understandment form him. She took her purse, left the candy and got off the car. "I still wish you the best" she said. "I still love you" he said. "You love Saint Valentine's, not me" she said, turning around and waling into the dark alley.

B y I'm the penguin

13, when times hates us...

Posted by SgtPepper | Posted in | Posted on Friday, February 13, 2009


13 February

C [the person at the other side],

Maybe February is such a lame month, because it is full of cliché.
Happy joyful couples exchanging bright-heart balloons, and chocolates.
Yes, happy and joyful, but also incredibly fake.
Maybe I’ve never seen the romantic part of it, but there’s something that bothers me, and at the same time intrigues me.
Who says “I love you” in Valentine’s Day? I think not really a lot of people, since, you know, no one wants to do it in such a clichéd day. But then, if everyone says so, it stops being that, doesn’t it?
We’re expecting something. A letter, a hug, a flower, a chocolate…
But we know it’s not happening, since 1. There might be no one for us, and 2. That person may think is lame.
So if it happened it would be really unexpected, wouldn’t it?

So eat your chocolates, enjoy time with the people you love, and don’t expect anything, because for this time, anything may happen.

Even if it does, or it doesn’t…
A big hug, you know time hates us…
Most of the times things are difficult but simple, (even if the simple part is unbelievable)


[Mrs. K i t e]
in which mrs. kite writes a letter to a far away friend, who is so close, who she loves, misses and supports... (stupid stupid time...)


Posted by SgtPepper | Posted in | Posted on Thursday, February 12, 2009


Human are still animals, we've stated that here several times, but with minds and ideas evolving at this pace are we still human after all? We have migrated from worshiping something as fenomenal and ethereal as thunder to rely on the numbers given by something as common and hard-evidenced as a computer. We have gotten away of our roots, we still share the hominid social behaviour, but we are different, we have grown so much apart from the animal that the human is. So the question is imposed. Are we human after all? Maybe. But something is true, we're losing touch.

Just look at the chimpancies in the jungle, they may bot have penisiline, but they are not riding any vines which destroy the ozone layer or create wastes that make their water undrinkable. We may make fun of fish "look at it, is eats were it poos". Well, we are not much better we fill with toxic gases the air we breath. So again, we have grown very far from the animals human used to be, but I don't mean this in a evolutive, progressionist way. We have neglected our nature and became something else. What is that else?

It seems to me we are just creeping up the backstairs of evolution, climbing and climbing something we can't reach. Is it really the need of outgrow our relationship with gorillas that we hide behind a cover shield of cloths and cell phones? Or maybe I'm just wrong and that's just this animal's nature, to look so different, to fall so apart from the tree. Maybe, maybe not. But the mere question of this already tells me we are way beyond eating bannanas and scratching each other's back in seek of fleas (at least most of us).

And since this is a topic that concerns philosophy, and thus has no real or digited answer, we will leave it to a lack of conclusion for lack of existing information about it. Because while we still have hidden tails and yell like monkeys in a crowded stadium, we have fallen far from the evolutionary tree. We're still star stuff, but what kind of stuff?

[I dare you to find all the names of songs used to make this post]
By I'm the penguin

Just people made of quarks?

Posted by SgtPepper | Posted in | Posted on Wednesday, February 11, 2009


Today (tomorrow) I saw freaking John Malkovich, yes he was there, just sitting in a row at the theater. He was not even formal... just wearing some normal jeans and a shirt, as an average american. His hair-less head and white facial hair made him stand out when he went up the stage, from being a random person in the crowd, he beacme the star, as he said thankyou to the rest of us. And that made me think about lots of things, I was excited, naturally, of seeing someone that famous, few meters from me. But I remembered the Mr.W's words, from yesterday actually. "Famous people, they're just people.", yes John Malkovich, is a person indeed. But I mean, he's the reason this "Being John Malkovich" movie exists, he was Athos, and thanks to his money we had Juno.... but he goes to the theater too, he sleeps, he eats, he might even have a dog that leaves poop in the family's really antique rug....

Einstein, Shakespeare, Meche, Penguins, Malkovich, Kites and bacteria are made of cells,
and cells are made of molecules,
and molecules are made from atoms
and atoms from subatomic particles
and subatomic particles are made of quarks
and then something else may follow
and after that something else may follow too...

So, people--- they're just people [that we love and desperately admire, maybe] but people in the end... a bunch of quarks, or strings or whatever... [which we also love..]

[Mrs. K i t e]

I'm not sane at this time in the morning...

A troubled generation

Posted by SgtPepper | Posted in | Posted on Tuesday, February 10, 2009


"They are self-centred, lacking social values, and concerned only about making money when they grow up. They are cynical, angry, violent, and self-absorbed by the loveless culture of rap music, drugs, anger, graffiti and even pornography" (Tapscot, 1998)

All rights of the image belong to DeviantArt user stacheLhaut

I mean, it is actually kind of true, they ALL are so self-centred, that's why they are the first generation with a clear concience of green efficiency and multicultural rights; because that's hip right now. The fact that they are the first generation of blogers, tweeter-ers, video uploaders and poll readers who actually made a difference in a country's election sure speaks of their lack of social values. And don't even get me started in the money part, because it's obvious that all they care when they broadcast themselves, or become bloggers, or have a Facebook it means they plan to make a profit from it. Because we all know the big bucks are in the web, where everything's free yet we make some money. Because it all seems they are only trouble, and trouble they cause. Instead of being so angry and self-absorbed, they shouldbe cheking out how well did the hippy era go. Because it sure accomplished much huh?

I'm sure that when you old hippies and rest of baby boomers were born you were considered such a bright generation right? I mean, your baggy cloths and pot must have been such a great influence on society and culture. I even think you efforts to stop war were very successfull right? Wait...

Right! they weren't, non of what your so called ideals, goals or idecyncracy was of any good. And it's sad, because they were actually good, the one which were real ideas, the rest, well they were just there for the trip (if you know what I mean).

So why don't you just cut the bullshit and admit that while most of the "self-absorbed and loveless" generation is deviated by (your own) media, there are the various cases with the ideas. Because to begin with, most of the things you blame them for are a product of your neoliberal consumist media, along with the economic frenzy and political puppet-mastersy we all know about.

Here's the thing, the baby boomers were born after the war. So it was good news for the western world, the workers were back, the women had began to work and in a year there were already millions of babies wating to work hard for they loved "re-built" homeland, and hey, the money gotten from the war was not bad either huh? So there, the baby boomers were raised in a world of opportunities, new jobs, massive inmigration and a handful of optimistic economy. So while there are some exceptions, this generation didn't really suffer due to money in their youths. Another thing about them is that they saw the TV grow along with them, it was all new, all so merry. So they were raised by uncle sam and TV.

Then, as everything that goes up, it had to go down. The economy was starting the big open world-wide market and then several small crisis all around the world. And who do we have here? The eXcluded generation, eXcluded from all those opportunities, eXcluded from the brand new countries. All they got was a bag of old nationalist values and a Master in the state's college. They were born when the TV was already well developped, so they didn't see it grow, they grew from it, they learned much more skills with all the developping technology. So while they still had the good old family values, they had the money worm and the full knowledge of a world outside.

Then, the world becomes a very huge little sphere, we all hav e access to computers and the TV is almost everywhere, along with deep economic contrast and a sinking stability. And here they stand, the echo baby boom, or Y generation, or NET generation; or "they just don't get it" generation. So they are born in an era where the consience of national idenity is a gradient between all the multicultural influences everywhere, and let's not forget about the rising minorities. Well, with this boiling a meant to be break-out generation the INTERNET comes along. And to be fair the INTERNET made a whole lot of a difference, this is the first generation that has more contact, is more confortable and literate about the innovation in time. This means that they are the very first generation to have incredible amounts of information a click away; and we all know information is power.

This also meant that the TV has more less influence in this kids, because the main difference between TV and INTERNET is that the TV is a one way communication media. The TV modifies you and you can't really change it. But the INTERNET is a whole different thing, with all the forums about almost anything, several social networks and the ultimate liberty of expression, the people are the ones who change the INTERNET in a both ways communication path. For the first time a 13-year-old has a voice to sat whatever she/he wants to the whole world. Never before had a generation had such a power.

So yes, fear them, fear their "incorrect" attitudes and blame them for a lack of family values; because with all they can do, there are reasons to fear. The mainstream media is smart making parents belive the INTERNET is evil and should be banned, but maybe they haven't considered that Youtube user NewsFromaBox will be the evening correspondant in a few years, or that the IcanHasSomeOpinion blog will be part of the senate. So you old people who can't understand better be careful of what you say, because YOU are the troubled generation, for we control the greatest power of our time. FREE SPEECH.

It's worth mentioning Tapscot said media says this, not him per se, so you don't take it out of context

[fearing the fear of the feared]
By I'm the penguin

Just like that

Posted by SgtPepper | Posted in | Posted on Monday, February 09, 2009


I’m a terrible speaker sometimes. (sometimes?) you know it, and I pretend I’m not … sometimes.. (sometimes?) I tell myself I should know better, (do I?) maybe you don’t know it, but I do. And the truth is, I want to know better, and I want words to come out, but they don’t. (they won’t?) (will they ever come out?)
The thing is, you might already know what I’m supposed to say, because maybe I’m not supposed to say anything. Either way, you know it.
                                                                         Image from http://xkcd.com/15/ 

Turns out I can’t write either, but I’ve had some very interesting thoughts lately, maybe someday they will come out the way they’re supposed to.

[Mrs. K i t e ]
just as I am, just as you are...

Just the way I am

Posted by SgtPepper | Posted in | Posted on Sunday, February 08, 2009


I can't help it, I try it, but that's just the way I am. You could say I'm insensitive, that I let no emotion slip, and in a way you would be right. I have this tendency of letting people in, but just untill a certain point, the second they cross a limit I start to push them away, perhaps stupid, but that's just what I do, who I am. I should probably blame some childhood trauma I can't remember, but I don't really care about the source, I just can't help it. I move people away so I can de-atach from them easier.

You once said I have this horrible thing about me where I forget and leave behind people, and you're right. But it's not because I plan so, I just do. And many times I have fight it, and there has been some victories, some failures, but I keep doing it. And today, today when they ask me to tore myself into pieces I can't, perhaps it was because I let go earlier so it wouldn't hurt, perhaps I just don't feel anything. But well, that would be an overstatement, I am a sensible guy, whe it comes to understand others. I think my problem is when it hits home, where it hurts.

And you all just mourn and wipe, and I just observe. I pretend to be deeply sad, but actually I'm not. Sorry. But today, a very wise man told me "something in which no one can educate you is to say how you must feel, it is the most implicit of honesties"(Mr.W 2009). So I'll take his word of advise, because it was way better than all those condolences to good. So my respects to grace and virtue, and let everything run as it should.

[I realize there's nothing literary about this, but hey what are blogs for?]
By I'm the penguin

Music Trailers

Posted by SgtPepper | Posted in | Posted on Saturday, February 07, 2009


Walking through the street, with my iPod. I imagined the trailer of the movie I was starring according to the mood of the song.
Glory Box (Portishead), slowed my walking and made me feel in a depressing insightful movie. In which the starting credits would appear and then fade away. A bluish environment and I walked in the streets of the sea-by city in which I lived my really complicated life. A bad posture as I approached that place in which I hid.
Then, How do You Sleep (John Lennon) didn’t changed the mood much, it could’ve been the Trailer 2, but with a more orangey environment. And in perhaps the happiest part of the movie (yes, now you can imagine how sad was the last movie). I changed the song, since I wanted a different movie.
Eleanor Put Your Boots On (Franz Ferdinand) made me feel more like I was actually feeling before the mood-rush. I walked fast and looked all the way around the park. I was looking for someone as I got into the bike and rode all across it, and I found that person sitting by the statue, reading a dictionary.
Eighties Fan (Camera Obscura) I’m a woman with nothing really interesting to do, and I’m about to change my life, only I don’t know yet… I’m reading some newspaper while eating my breakfast, and I’m all alone.
For me Formidable came along, but those who read know I’ve written about it.
Little Wing (Jimi Hendrix), my imagination was so lame at the moment, that all I could do was think I was a guitarist. But then I tried harder and I found myself being a writer (because that’s so very original)
With Don’t Fear The Reaper(Blue Öyster Cult) I felt I was in a light thriller, or action-sort of movie. A little creepy perhaps, but definitely golden-globe material.
Dreaming of You (The Coral) I felt like jumping, and started jumping. Not in my head though, but in the middle of the street where I could appreciate everyone’s wtf expression. And that was fun.
Catch the Sun (Doves) Felt totally like the ending credits of this imagination-iPod experience. And I saw the credits rolling. In order of appearance.

Death parade

Posted by SgtPepper | Posted in | Posted on Saturday, February 07, 2009


"Be everyone welcome to the magical, clamorous, graceful and ghostly parade of the dead!" yelled the capped man with the black top hat. I was just there for the show; the fair doesn't come that often to Nomanland, Alaska. The parade this year was far more organized and complete, this time they hadn't let any of the cold and pale ones into town; although obviously that was a tad hard, since here in Alaska we're all pale and cold. But something had to be done, the rapist entered the houses thinking they were still as vigorous, it was actually quiet embarrassing, watching them fall with their own steps and mumbling threats with their jawless mouths. That was actually funny, the problem was when the Catholics prayed around, whining about their sweet heaven.


"The mischievous and the good doers, the ignorant and the wise, they all end up here! Come and celebrate this electric parade of nothingness!" he said, retouching his white make-up and standing high in the allegorical car. Every year the same man came and directed the ride, he looked the same since he had come the first time. Actually I was there for the first time, so it is not like this fair is something ancient occurring since the 1800's. It was a summer, everyone would think death would like to come in a winter, for the "it gets cold across the light in the tunnel" metaphor, but hey, if they're cold they'll want some heat.


So there I was, feeling all alone in my Igloo, well not, actually I don't live in an Igloo, that's just for the stereotype's sake. But well, I was all merry and laugh in my small Igloo, de-scaling some fish, while all of a sudden we hear the classical mournful song, played by an electric guitar. Obviously we all ran to the source as good curious villagers ready to lynch anything we didn't like. So the man with the top hat and the marble-white face welcomed us into our own town, displaying the show that never was in life. Making out of something like death, a carnival.


Of course at first we were all spooked and troubled, we couldn't lynch what was already dead. We were also kind of afraid the dead might be contagious; one never knows which kinds of diseases they might bring from wherever the hell they come. They were also scared at first, they were worried life could be contagious, the difference was that they knew what kind of things life had, so they were far more careful. And so that's how we got to see Napoleon, speaking a very proficient French and talking us about this conquers as living and now, he had scored with Jeanne d'Arc , apparently he had made her believe he had finally freed France. She did have a record of believing lots of things.


In the parade I also met Oscar Wilde; he was so much more relieved, no more fights for love or dishonor for his likes. John Lennon and Gandhi were a must see for my little activist sister, so I didn't lose the chance. It happened that they were not friends; Gandhi couldn't stand that modern music thing. And of course I had to use the occasion to get to know my old great grandfather, who is said to have found Nomansland. Apparently he was blind his whole life, so he had the idea of having found a town nearby a lake, no one ever told him it was a frozen lake. And if I went on with the list of dead people I've got to meet trough the years I wouldn't be done in weeks.


But there was this one dead girl, she seemed so full of... life. She was in a plane accident, she was actually in a plane class accident, her best friend and her had been taking private lessons to learn how to fly a light aircraft. But her friend was there because of the instructor, not the class, so while looking at his "puuurfect" hair and his "dreeeameh" eyes, she didn't listen a thing, so it was her turn to pilot, and the rest is obvious. Normally in this story, the pilot should have taken control of the situation, but he was too worried being unconscious, for he was musophobic (afraid of mice). This girl had the occurrence of bringing her mouse pet to that day's lesson. So, a bit of lust and fear of mice had killed her, yet she had never felt any of those.


Her name was, while she lived, Erinelda; now that she had a choice over it, her name was Beulah, apparently she hadn't had enough bully problems back when she was alive with her name. The first time I saw her, I only say her profile and her back and mistook her for Audrey Hepburn, so I asked for her autograph, and when she turned around, it was quiet awkward to see she was just some normal gal. But away from being awkward for her, she took it very... normal. "For whom should I sign it?" she asked, very sassily. "Uhm, for... me" I ughed "Frank" i ended up saying. "Frank? What kind of name is that? I hope this is for your weird Canadian cousin" she said, not knowing that I actually had a weird Canadian cousin. 


Anyways that was not really my name. "What's so wrong about that name?" I asked, as I saw her signing my notebook. "Well, it's just plain weird" she said, with a big smile, the kind of smile normal people don't criticize you with. "Oh and I bet" I read her name "Beulah is so normal."


She laughed, I laughed, then she said something like "Well at least it's way more classy than Frank" still smiling. "Well, I know of no queen who has ever been named Beulah" I said, trying to sound oh so smart-ass. "Darling, you're talking to the wrong people about the ‘who has ever been’ I hope you know that" she said, very confident of herself. "Well I bet that you won't find anyone near being queen who has ever been named Beulah." I said, knowing chances were against me. "You bet what? I hardly think you have anything to bet" she said, scolding my living body as if it was some sort of joke.


 "Well, you never know" I said, "We’re sounding daring aren't we? I want sardines" she ended up saying. "The weird doesn't stop at the name right?" I said, not really considering what I was saying. "Hey, I don't judge for drinking water, which tastes like nothing. At least rotten sardines have some sort of flavor" she admitted. "some flavor..." now I was just joking. "But okay, I'll get your sardines if there is Beulah the first, what if I win?" I asked. "You won't" she said, turning around at the moving parade and then, from the very depth of her lungs she yelled "BEULAH!" and then again, from who knows where "BEULAH". This second time, I was pretty sure every single dead and living person heard.


It didn't take more than two minutes for a large group of Beulahs to approach us. Some seemed really old corpses; others were fresh as rotten eggs, all so very different. "okay ladies, oh and you," she said to a man who was named Beulah, or so it goes. "Who here was a queen?" and of course, out of the twenty farmer looking Beulahs none raised a hand or said a thing. "I win" I said. "You clearly said, and I quote 'near being a queen' so just let me interrogate these lovely dead ladies. The dead interrogation took only a couple of minutes, dead people don't have anything to hide anymore, so secrets and incomplete information are things all so very mundane for them. "Ha! this woman was near to being a queen, I win" she said, grabbing the shoulder of a Beulah who seemed, and probably was, a thousand years old. "Oh really? was she a princess?" I was quiet amazed. "Not precisely, you see, she was born in a place with no monarchy, ergo the government was a mayor, and it happens that she was the nice of the mayor" she said, nodding in a showy manner.


"A nice doesn't count!" I argued, because not even the nice of the kind is near of being the queen, ever. "I would have even go for the wife" I said, attempting her reason to sound more stupid. "Well, it happens that in her town the next one to the power was the nice of the mayor" she said, with not even a drop of lie in her eyes. "Bullshit let me ask her" I exclaimed. "Well, I hope you speak Austrian" she was just bragging. "So I take you speak Austrian" I asked, "nope" she answered. "So?" I asked again, "we dead speak the same language you silly" she said, again not a drop of lie in her eyes. "I'm simply not winning this am I?" I was pretty sure of the answer. "No Frank, you're not getting out of this

So while everyone was having fun at the parade, I was searching for sardines in my house, while Beulah waited comfortably in the sofa. “You know, you’re not allowed to be here” I yelled from the kitchen. “Well, I was not allowed to fly plains either” she said, later she told me all about the plane crash and how in the way she was trying to remember all she had saw in a shipwreck Discovery channel special. Of course that wasn’t a ship, and they were not overflying islands, it was the Pacific Ocean, which made it harder for the rescue team to ever find them.

Aside from being an anchovy and tuna, and sardine lover, she was fairly good at 90’s trivia. She had died in 1992, precisely the year my sister was born. “She must be your reincarnation” I said, commenting how annoying my sister was. “Pfft, If I was to reincarnate I would be a politician” she said, not intending any pun. “Why? So you could make a better place out of the world?” I asked kind of seriously. “Nah, so I could make a living out of lying” she said, and I laughed, and she stared; it hadn’t been a joke. “Not all the dead speak the same language do they?” I said, realizing what may had been a complex confession. “It took you a while…”

“She was not even named Beulah?” I felt so stupid, “I don’t know, but she kept asking for something, so I guess it’s some sort of food or something in whatever it was her language” she said, as if lying to get sardines was an everyday chore. “Darn, I feel so stupid” I admitted, after all the ‘we all dead speak the same language’ was way too cheesy for any girl named Beulah.

“Don’t worry, I have made people made stupider things thanks to my super lying skills” she said, tossing the last can of tuna to the trash can. “Where do you come from?” I asked after some silence.

“From the death parade, where I tricked you into giving me your food, and that’s basically how I got here” she was not only a liar but sarcastic as well. “I mean, where do you all come from? Some sort of twilight dimension where we all go when we die?” I asked, turning the atmosphere a serious one.

“Is it really necessary to know? Don’t you regret every time you find out the end of a good book before time? Is it not the worst thing when someone spoils you a good movie?” she said, omitting any sarcasm. “But what if it’s not a good book?” I asked, and then I realized I had sounded like some suicidal kid. “I kind of get you, but believe me, every single book has something to say, even if it something very stupid.” She said, in a let’s-not-speak-of-this-ever-again voice.

“I think we should get going, if the villagers know I was here they’ll try to burn me; I don’t want to lower their self esteem making them believe they can’t even burn a dead girl.” She said after we talked about plane crashes, San Bernardo dogs, underage drinking, vandalism, religion, mad houses and Kierkegaard, in that order.

“You’re so considerate, you amaze me” I said.

“Well, truth is that I’m getting bored here with you, but I was trying to have a little bit of tact… but have it your way…” she said, laughing at my almost believing hurt face.  She was kind of funny but not funny looking, who likes pretty much what I like. And she was dead.

[ok, so i'm not sure this is over...]
By I'm the penguin