First resolution

Posted by Mrs. Kite | Posted in | Posted on Thursday, December 31, 2009


I'm always making stupid little actions to remember moments, the thing is, I never remember what those stupid actions were.
I can say I remember thinking, 'oh, this is going to be the first thing I do in 2009' and then doing something. Don't ask me what was the first thing I did in 2009, or the first thing I told someone when they turned 15 or 18.... (this is totally true, I DO this kind of things, and I DO forget them)
So, one of this year's resolutions for me, will be stop doing that.
It doesn't really bother me, and I don't consider it a significant waste of time, but I just realize is a complete stupidity...

Goodbye 'first-think-i-did-in-[fill in the blank]' tradition!

The end.

Posted by I'm the penguin | Posted in | Posted on Wednesday, December 30, 2009


The year it about to end...

You have a whole new solar cycle ahead of you now, but well you also have one behind you.

What did you do this year? How will it affect the rest of your life?

It is at the end of the year when all you did takes real value by looking back. Did you accomplish the resolutions or are you right now trying to lose 5 pounds, read 4 books and being a better sibling, as you read? Do you plan on keeping on the farse for next year or are you proud of yourself?

365 days you will never have to live again, to endure, or to be able to enjoy.

So... have you thought out the resolutions for the new year?


Posted by Mrs. Kite | Posted in | Posted on Tuesday, December 29, 2009


I met a child, he told me his name was Jim, but I liked calling him Pat, because he looked like a Pat to me. He didn't know I called him Pat, it was only in my head that I called him like that, but since I lack of mind-real world coordination sometimes, I usually called him 'Hey you!' to avoid awkard moments just in case some time a Pat sliped.
So this Pat boy, he loved dinasours, just as most 90's kids who saw Jurassic Park. He claimed he wanted to be a paleonthologist or a Power Ranger. He would make drawings of this two possible outcomes and hang them in his door. Well anyways, he once told me a story about a boy who wanted to be a Paleonthologist or a Power Ranger and I asked him: 'Isn't that you?', and he said 'No, he's just a character'....

Oh yes...

Quick recap

Posted by I'm the penguin | Posted in | Posted on Monday, December 28, 2009


Icons&Ideas>anythingelse <---is apparently the statement I give out the most

So let's end the year like that.

And let me recap the whole concept of these holidays for everyone out there

[Read in whatever order or meaning. At the end it all ends the same]

Ready for 2010

Posted by Mrs. Kite | Posted in | Posted on Sunday, December 27, 2009


It'll be over soon they say

Posted by I'm the penguin | Posted in | Posted on Saturday, December 26, 2009


The end is near!


And this only means we are getting older.
Much much older.

Soon we will be those strange beings who have real lives and real contacts and talk about their childhoods like it was something really far away, and talk of the stupid things they did in their long forgotten adolescence.

Doesn't this make you sad or anxious? Because I get anxious all the time, thinking I'm wasting my life.

And this is it, time, passing not stopping for a second.

It will be over soon

But what can we do?

Well, we enjoy it.

[Eternal sunshine of the spotless mind came up with this dada dialog, not me]


Posted by Mrs. Kite | Posted in | Posted on Friday, December 25, 2009


December 25th

this is a nice x-mas thought...

[from xkcd]

What would you do?

Posted by I'm the penguin | Posted in | Posted on Thursday, December 24, 2009


People who will most likely read this have all questioned the bases of Christmas itself and so I won't really go deep into that.

Also, you have probably received the wish of a happy day for at least a dozen times, so I will just be brief: be happy.

What I'm about to tell you concerns other things more important about Christmas: it is different from the rest of the year.

It doesn't matter if you celebrate in church along with hundreds of people, or if you just sit in front of the TV with your cat. The thing is that you know it is unlike the rest of the year, whatever that reason is.

And maybe you don't think about this, but we (because of all of our free time) do: What will be your new experience given this opportunity?

It is special, 24th of December of 2009 will never occur again. In fact non of the other days, but the point is that this one is special. So how are you going to use it? What will you do that is new and memorable? What will make Christmas special?

Will you finally tell your parents about the piercing that nearly got infected two months ago?

Will you get so drunk with old aunt Agnes you will begin to like her despite her warts?

Will you box half of your dinner and take it to a place where they need it more?

Will you stay up all night dancing with your grandma? :)


Will you sit at dinner, share presents and go to sleep?

Whatever you do Blackbird Fields wishes you the happiest winter solstice you can have (given that climate change may cause a disruption in normal solstice dating and such)

:D !

[if I sang out of tune? | all you need is love]

Wind of Spring... in december

Posted by Mrs. Kite | Posted in | Posted on Wednesday, December 23, 2009


My obsession with Marton was killed by the lies of the music store...

they told me i could order his cd,
i did,
i don't have it
i hate you!

Honestly filling

Posted by I'm the penguin | Posted in | Posted on Tuesday, December 22, 2009


I've been avoiding this.


the forgotten time which I decided to skip given the holidays. Now, has to be filled in.

But like every good blogger (like i knew any...) I will try to avoid the content production and instead fill you with content made by someone else, found by me so I can take some credit for it. (thinking about it that's pretty much all we do).

So there. I shall begin the selection.

First there is this page: Imgur.

While this is not a site that has a vast collection of anything in particular or even a theme, it's pretty much made of awesome.

(yeah only two, check the rest by yourself)
Awesome right?

There is also this place, for which I could throw a whole thing about time and limitations but I bet that at this point you couldn't bare one more. Anyway, this page changes every 24 hours or so and sells a different tee, so what you see today is not what was yesterday or tomorrow. So go ! quick!

Tee Fury. It is cool, it has new artists and they just get a chance to sell one day, it keeps it fresh and constant, go take a look.

One tee had this the other day :)

And... well that.... yea that's it for today...


Posted by Mrs. Kite | Posted in | Posted on Monday, December 21, 2009


Free time: to remember some things I love...
skating is so cliched... but i love it so much...
I remember when I saw Evgeni Plushenko and Edvin Marton live...

A child's winter tragedy

Posted by I'm the penguin | Posted in | Posted on Sunday, December 20, 2009


As we know, the greatest tragedy of western culture middle class children around the world is Christmas: The family gatherings, the long nights and at last the present receiving, and in the long run the lethal strike of truth that will make all the previous banish.

Come to think of it Santa might just be a greater damage than it is a surprise. But anyways, that's our very own way of thinking less of children and convincing them of a greater force in shape of an old man who can create things out of thin air, yes I'm still referring to Santa.

I don't know about you but this great tragedy came to me also with the plot device of -enlongment of truth time- which was extending the lie to its last consequences so the main character (me, us) never knows the truth which will end the story. In that way parents love to tell stories. Anyway the thing about this is what kind of things they tell you so you believe.

Sure, it's easy to tell a child at first that presents appear from thin air and that a fat man gets to everyone's homes in one single night and ironically gives more presents to the rich and nothing to the poor (the irony being that this man is said to be a philanthropist). I mean children believe babies come from birds, fairies/mouses profit from teeth and just about any story containing a fantastic character. But the rough part comes when they start asking questions. why? why? why? Their first fat mistake.

And since it is only human to want children live on with the fantasy, you keep feeding the flame of fantasy and scientific confusion, Santa can do everything, he has magic abilities. But then if they keep asking most parents will say (and now this is the whole point of the post)
"If you don't believe in Santa then he won't bring you any presents, that's why children who say he doesn't exist don't receive any gifts from him."
And that is truly the child's greatest tragedy.

Because after this, as a child now you are under the believe that if by mistake you stop believing in this very suspicious old man you will be punished by having no presents in Christmas, and this by definition breaks the dogma of happy Christmas forever. So what do you do? You keep believing, because that is what will get you peace at the end; and you convince yourself this man is real, despite all the contradictions there are.

Because if you slip one second, one single second of mistrusting the fantasy, you are out of the list. You become an expatriate in this world of happiness and joy, and so you rather prefer to keep believing, to maintain your faith and be strong, because that is the only way you are getting a present.

And yes, I'm still talking about Santa.

[Happy winter solstice, Christmas, Kwanzaa, late Hanukkah and whatever you do this part of the year]

Closer to the 10

Posted by Mrs. Kite | Posted in | Posted on Saturday, December 19, 2009


In some days, sun will rise at 7:31 with a waning gibbous moon.
2*3*5*67 in prime numbers
We're supposed to die 2 years after that, and we were supposed to die 10 years ago from it.
It will be a Friday
It will be the year of Biodiversity
At some point we'll have something called Burj Dubai

But the thing is,,, it's our friggin graduation


Posted by I'm the penguin | Posted in | Posted on Friday, December 18, 2009


[this is like the serious part where I address things of discussion and deep thought]

A fettish is defined as an obsession towards something.

But these days the only fetish you hear about is sex-related. But then again, are we really obsessed with anything other than sex-related content?

The thing is, where do we put the boundaries of what is normal to like and what becomes a "depravation"? Is there a safe line when to say that it is okay for a man to like a woman's feet and to say it is just wrong when they like to lick them? Because really, with all the sorts of people there are, by this time we shouldn't really be surprised by any -uncommon- taste.

But as always, we make a huge effort and thrive in making ourselves feel like there's something wrong with us. Because even after we know there is so much variety in the world we insist in calling it abnormalities and finger them (no pun intended...) yet hiding ours. Because we just have this fucked up vision of what normal is, or should be. And this is why this sort of worlds become so secretive and obscure.

And this is why we google things we think are wrong, just to reassure it is indeed wrong as we have been taught, but maybe someone else thinks differently. Or do they say, it is the internet after all.


[this is the part where I make fun of people in the internet]

seriously? driving? that's the best thing you can come up with?

You must be right... because kids aged 16 CAN'T possibly drive.
Someone should have told Nabokov about this before he made an entire novel.
It has nothing to do with being mature, having money or just having a developed body and intellect.


Driving is the new sexy.


Posted by Mrs. Kite | Posted in | Posted on Thursday, December 17, 2009


So you came in today, it was suposed to be like last year, and the year before that, but you were just a little different. When I think about it, maybe you weren't, perhaps you were just like those days when I thought you were only an ass, or perhaps something had really changed. Maybe it was the fact that the only clothes you had in that house were the beige trousers and the vest I saw you with the other day, and today.
The thing is, you were polite, you made a fair conversation and you saw me making faces over the vacation anecdotes and the horoscope discussion, and you laughed a little, something the social convention asks for, but it was not honest.
I want to know what happened, I might get that information from the other guy... until then, au revoir

La pirata del aburrimiento

Posted by I'm the penguin | Posted in | Posted on Wednesday, December 16, 2009


La capitana Kararrosa con su nave el Nube veloz, era una temida pirata en los trece océanos de menjurge, ella y su tripulación eran un grupo de despiadados piratas que atacaban y amotinaban a cuanto barco podían, tomaban todo y luego huían, dejando a las embarcaciones víctimas confundidas y azonzadas. Pero Kararrosa no era una pirata corriente como los que andan detrás del oro y esas trivialidades, ella traficaba algo mucho más serio: el aburrimiento. No que lo transportara, lo atacaba. Es por eso que sus embarques favoritos por tomar eran aquellos de burócratas y contadores. Sus municiones constaban de risas y chocolate.

Su ataque era muy ruidoso, como cuando hundieron el S.S. Muchoseso, comenzaron por emanar olas de música por las corrientes del pacífico, y prosiguieron por lanzarse en cañones de resorte hacia la embarcación. Uno tras otro, los bucaneros de Kararrosa se introducían en el tubo amarillo pastel y luego salían disparados a velocidad increíble hasta la cubierta del otro barco, donde les esperaba un gran colchón previamente puesto.

Al llegar allí Kararrosa se anunció con silbatos y tambores, interrumpiendo el silencio de los señores burócratas. Al ver que comenzaban a salir de sus aletargadas y grises habitaciones la capitana dio la orden –bucaneros, ¡al ataque!- Entonces empezó un lanzamiento de caramelos y serpentina contra los hombres, seguido de un tiroteo a quemarropa de espuma de colores, dejándolos inmóviles. Una vez los señores confundidos, la tripulación del Nube veloz registró el barco entero buscando artículos de valor aburril, esto llámese pesadas constituciones antiguas, colecciones de pelusas por grado de densidad y cualquier otro instrumento de tortura.

Una vez que tuvieron el motín, la capitana Kararrosa prosiguió por su parte favorita, la ejecución de sus aburridas victimas. Se paró firmemente delante de ellos y les vio como quien inspecciona a un bicho para ver si sigue vivo después del chanclazo o no.

–Señorita, pero que le ha pasado a su pierna- preguntó un preocupado burócrata al ver que la joven Kararosa portaba una pata de palo.

-¿Acaso le di permiso de hablar?- preguntó la capitana con severidad, el señor solo agachó la cabeza –descuide, es de juguete- dijo la capitana risueña mostrando la removibilidad de su amenazante pata de fina caoba.

–Señores adultos, a caso ¿son ustedes culpables de ser unos aburridos caralarga sin remédio?- porfirió la capitana, sonando más a juicio que a pregunta. Los burócratas no sabían que contestar, aún no sabían si quiera si el ataque de piratas con parches de papel y una capitana con una pata de palo falsa, podía ser cierto; no consideraron que pudiera ser una broma, ya que aunque esta amotinara su barco no la podrían distinguir.

-Pues nuestras ocupaciones nos obligan a llevar vidas pacíficas y de contemplación- respondió un hombre cuyo tono de piel era tan gris como su corbatín.

-Ajá, con que culpando a su obligación eh? ¡Pues aquí se acabó su vida de tomar el té a l misma hora todos los días y dormir antes de que anochezca!- dijo la capitana, alzando el brazo triunfante mientras la tripulación lanzaba alaridos de aprobación- Dospapadas, dame la espada- le dijo Kararrosa a un joven corpulento que llevaba un gran saco lleno de armas. Al ver esto el grupo de hombres grises temió y como pudieron si hicieron bolita entre ellos, entonces vieron como Dospapadas le daba a su jefa una larga y fina hoja azul transparente.

-Y por el poder que me confiere la gran espada de azúcar cristalizada, yo los libero de su vida de aburrimiento- dijo la joven pirata mientras la tripulación volvía a gritar de emoción. Entonces, sostuvo la espada en alto y la abalanzó contra los burócratas, cortando la espesa capa de espuma de colores. –Ahora, ¡a festejar!- gritó la capitana, concluyendo la ejecución de insípidas vidas de rutina y comenzando la fiesta.

Los bucaneros sacaron de sus cantimploras jugos de colores fosforescentes, y sabores innombrables, servidos en cocos, cascos y caracolas. A los señores grises les era muy difícil entender que sucedía, pero como los piratas ya sabían, la fiebre dulce es muy muy contagiosa. Así que después de unos cuantos tragos de jugos de piñaguaranja y manzarazdía, moverse al ritmo del redoble de Arritmo, el pirata musical, y comer chocolate hasta no poder más los aburridos; los entes grises habían muerto y solo quedaban alegres hombres que solían ser burócratas.

Al amanecer el otro día la tripulación se dio cuenta que el S.S. Muchoseso se había partido en dos debido a la alocada fiesta, los fuegos artificiales y el desbordamiento de alegría. Los aturdidos hombres nuevos despertaron y rieron al ver su antigua nave. Al final se tomó la decisión de que algunos de los antiguos burócratas de unirían a la tripulación del Nube veloz y los otros nadarían a tierra donde reharían sus vidas, se sentían capaces de conquistar el mundo a risas si eso se propusieran.

[ si, ya me lo dijeron. yo tampoco se, dejemoslo en experimento que nunca debe repetirse]

Symphony of Science

Posted by Mrs. Kite | Posted in | Posted on Tuesday, December 15, 2009


The beauty of a living thing is not the atoms that go into it
But the way those atoms are put together
The cosmos is also within us
We're made of star stuff
We are a way for the cosmos to know itself


The reason why

Posted by I'm the penguin | Posted in | Posted on Monday, December 14, 2009


Just look at it...

Do we need another reason to make an effort?

(besides of course all the sustainability implications and human survival)


Posted by Mrs. Kite | Posted in | Posted on Sunday, December 13, 2009


Ladybird from Christopher Harrell on Vimeo.

I love the coloring,
I have a phobia to insect groups...
Nevertheless I loved this...

Before he leaves to Sidney

Posted by I'm the penguin | Posted in | Posted on Saturday, December 12, 2009


This is it Celia, I'm standing here one last time. I love you, with all your complexities and complications, I love you just as you are. But I can't keep waiting forever, I need you to be here, to be with me.

I...I have never felt...

I have never felt anything for anyone really.


And that includes you. Seriously? An ultimatum? What kind of love is that.

Please, please don't shut yourself in that emotional lock, we can be so happy together. I know it is hard for you, but I also know you feel this too, I know I'm not hallucinating.

Me? Feel this?

Robert, you were a very convenient Saturday fuck for the last year, and the ride. I enjoyed it, it was...


But now we have to move on.

I can't believe you're doing this to us, to you.

heh... I don't need your shiny armor prince, what do you know about me?

I know you struggle to come out of that shell every day, I know that you're fighting to reach me, but you've reached a point where there's nothing I can do anymore. I'm sure you're feeling this too.

Just like you were sure I was monogamous and faithful?

Wait what?

Your brother Bill may be an under accomplished jock, but he knows how to make the Earth rock.




Have to go.

The People of Brighton

Posted by Mrs. Kite | Posted in | Posted on Friday, December 11, 2009


I LOVE vimeo SO much!

The People of Brighton - Short Film from Sim Warren on Vimeo.

Youth's guilt

Posted by I'm the penguin | Posted in | Posted on Thursday, December 10, 2009


Post-post modern dualities.


Posted by Mrs. Kite | Posted in | Posted on Wednesday, December 09, 2009


A Million Years from Roger Dario on Vimeo.

My storyteller

Posted by I'm the penguin | Posted in | Posted on Tuesday, December 08, 2009


Throughout my life I had always heard of him, a lot. I had even met him, but I was too young when he died so I can't really remember. I always heard about his severity, his bad humor, his hight, about how much he was like me... physically speaking. But I had also heard about how much he helped people in his life, how he built hospitals and energy plants all over the country. He was also brilliant, he was part of this international engineering association and had once considered to study physics, of course he was ahead of his time.

I had heard so much about his greatness, a person who spoke about him was a person that referred to him with the out most respect. He was this kind of stoic hero everyone felt respect for but truly deeply loved.

I had also heard about his vices, with the booze and women, and more women. Uncountable stories of his drinking and how much of a party beast he was. He was legendary, even in his 60s the youth would think twice before partying with him of how wild did it turned (in the good way) (and the bad one too).

I knew as well about the biggest of all his weaknesses, women. And all the womanizing, and families he had, yes plural for that. He just couldn't keep his business together around the ladies, and given the player he was there was a lot of stories to be told of that, and of course the many many drama that comes along with this sort of cases. Grandma suffered much. He did too.

And up until tonight he was just this character that was part of my history but had very little to do with me, other than the physical traits and some of the intellect. I had been told he liked me a lot because of these two last things, but other than that he was just a dead relative who was a legend, even if that is not so common, he was still not close.

But then I heard other stories about him, stories about story-telling.

These were completely new, I had no idea of this before. It started with this people who are said to be very close to me but most of the time feel like strangers. This guys drift a lot about topics and always end up talking about him, my grandfather. But this time they were talking about how he told the stories of his life, and that later they had found out most of them were lies. "Mythomaniac" was a word used, of course with respect but still, they mentioned a diseased. I disagreed.

My grandfather had once a cyst in his back, and had it removed by his son (the physician), leaving a big hole in his back, a scar. Years later he was speaking to a group of people and he said he had landed in Normandy along with the U.S armies, and had fought in the war. Being the serious man he was, everybody believed him, because he showed a bullet mark left on his back. He had received a shot while being splashed with a fellow's blood in his face, then he had grabbed an automatic gun and killed many enemies.Everyone was very impressed, but his grandson (not me) who had seen four years earlier how that mark was being done by surgical material. He was not ever senile or hallucinating, he did told those stories fully conscious.

Then all the strangers in the room started speaking about all the stories that they had later found to be only that, stories. Then he was compared with the movie The Big Fish. That moment changed my perception of him, and probably of life as I know it.

He was a story teller. Not just some crazy drunk telling stories, like it was slightly suggested. He had invented this fantastic world of stories, and he wasn't even entertaining people, they were for himself. That changed it all, he was not dead hero who I was supposed to praise, he was my grandfather, the story teller. Then one more comment did it for me:

"He was magnificent, even if he was dry and all, he was magnificent"

The comment meant that he was not very much into showing people what he felt, he appeared stoic because he was not in touch. He lived in a cuirasse, but not because of lack or trust or any sort of stupid psychological explanation, he was just like that. And he was magnificent.

That along with the story telling almost made tears come to my eyes, but then again I'm dry. The thought of this made me laugh. And it felt so great, like I was at peace, because for once I had been able to link completely with this long gone hero. He was part of me, and I hadn't even met him properly, he was like me, he would have understand it, he would have got it. And so, for once in that table in Christmas time, I actually felt like part of them, no longer strangers, but family. Because if all we shared was my grandfather, and he was this amazing hero, character and person, then we couldn't be all that different.

That's how I met my grandfather the story teller, and I finally understood why he was seen so differently by so many people. How even if the image of the shiny hero preserved, he was remembered differently according. But most important, I felt that thing where you know your roots, where you feel identified with your past. For once I understood all that crap about connecting with the past to know the present. And even if life laws are never bent and I never get to know him, this feeling of closeness and bonding will most definitely never go away.

Old. 7

Posted by Mrs. Kite | Posted in | Posted on Monday, December 07, 2009


Jack Daniel's "Label Story": "Old No. 7" from Brand New School on Vimeo.

Let's leave something VERY clear

Posted by I'm the penguin | Posted in , , | Posted on Sunday, December 06, 2009


Science? Art?
How can they mix?

Seriously, art creates, it is beautiful and describes things words can not.

Science only discovers, is dry and is very methodical, there is no space for creation.

Pfft, art? Who needs it if you have sciences?
Art only expresses things, it really does nothing, it's only to externalize something within the
human, science is about applying knowledge and making life better, art produces nothing useful.

Art, philosophy, communications and such are only useful for meaningless social interactions.

Will these people ever agree?

Because none of them knows what art or science is.

Art is the externalization of ideas and feelings.
Science is the deepest externalization of curiosity
Curiosity is a feeling.

Art AND Sience both express things language fails to, how could you describe with language alone the desperation of existence, or the mechanism by which oxygen takes the electrons out of the cellular respiration so it can keep going?

Technology is applying knowledge, science is not.
Did Newton, Dalton, Rutherford, Pauli, etc. ever made something applicable for life? Because neither calculus (by itself), knowing about atoms, alpha rays or exclusion principles have ever made life any simpler. So science is not about finding the solutions of life. It is about seeking that which is not known. Art is about seeking that which is not there yet. Sounding similar?

So, next time you hear a scientist saying art is meaningless and an artist questioning the depth of science, just bitch slap them and show them this:


Posted by Mrs. Kite | Posted in | Posted on Saturday, December 05, 2009


Samsung Mobile CORBY Global Launch Event "Countdown" from !f works on Vimeo.

Rob's sad case

Posted by I'm the penguin | Posted in | Posted on Friday, December 04, 2009


"Tell me Mister Ackroyd, have you ever felt like you can scream at the top of your lungs, go out to the street and wake up every single dog and cat in the city, that you can keep screaming until blood came out of your guts and your were so sore you no longer felt anything, that you could keep on screaming and yelling and cursing until there was not one single particle of dust left of you... and still there was nobody listening?" asked Rob from his desk

Mr. Ackroyd remained quiet.

"No?" Rob turned in his chair to look to his friend "I guess you'll tell me when you're ready" Rod went back to his work.

Mr. Ackroyd, the garden gnome, never answered back.

In the door

Posted by Mrs. Kite | Posted in | Posted on Thursday, December 03, 2009


Surprisingly, you left a comment, and I didn't know how to answer it. I answered in the only way I could think about. "Thanks. Have a nice week."
Who would've thought next week you would be knocking the door again, with your suitcase, and a 'what know' face
Portrait of a man in front of a door por Melissa Witcher.

I love this picture... It's from Melissa Witcher's flickr, nice pictures...

Off the record

Posted by I'm the penguin | Posted in | Posted on Wednesday, December 02, 2009


Lately I've been thinking of you dear reader across the street. In some years, when we are publishing authors, you will be there saying "hey I read you before you were anyone" and we will be too caught up with the free booze that we won't hear you. But for your luck I'm thinking right now about you, and so I will give you fresh new quotes extracted from the big fat eccentric book of secrets.

This way you will be the only one who has this quotes, for they appear in no other texts, or will they ever. And no, again this has nothing to do with the lack of possible content I could have included if I took more time for this. I'm just thinking of you dearest reader. Always have always will.

So, as I was saying:

"Don't ask me how, but I just know that the second you stare at me, or look into my eyes I will simply vanish forever, like dust swept by wind. And never will I be found again."

"Vampire appears. Kills her"

"How's a philosopher-writer-scientist-artist-journalist-unauthorized shrink-ecologist
ever supposed to find a job in this town?"

"Measure life in experiences"

"Here's where you wonder if last night was worth it."

"Does anyone in the entire world wear a condom while having a sex dream? In the dream I mean"

"Nadie lloró por los dinosaurios"

"I stole a year of live"

"Dios es justo y necesario... la gente no tiene solo el gobierno que se merece, sino el dios también."

"Diario de un geni...udo"

[hope you find love with that booty call]

You parked your car in a nearby street

Posted by Mrs. Kite | Posted in | Posted on Tuesday, December 01, 2009


I had had second thoughts every single day of the month. You came or called once or twice a week to arrange some of the divorce papers, but I could hear your voice, and I knew you, I had been with you for a long time. And I knew it was painful for you, it was painful for me. We sat in the dinning table, on opposite sides, handing over papers, sigining documents, getting everything in order. You parked your car in a nearby street, you knocked, and you entered the house that was once yours.

But that day, you were dressed different. You had combed your hair, and you were wearing a brown vest. You stayed, we talked, about life and other things usually found in normal conversations. You stayed that night, and for a moment, I forgot you weren't there, I closed my eyes, and wished to see you there when I woke up, but at 5:30 I opened my eyes, and you were gone.