full time lovers and full time friends (missing)

Here I am. Sitting in front of the computer, and suddenly I open my old email and there I find it. An old email from my big summer love, Julien.

It's funny how masochistic we can be at times. So I decided to re-read all those emails that were once sent and replied.

And I find myself crying (haha) like an old fool because I left one love go and replaced it by another one to cover up the broken parts. What an idiot I was...

I suddenly remember how much I loved him, how I adored his fascination for me and for anything to do with me, I remember how curious we were to discover each other, how amazing was our first night holding hands, and how firmly sad was our last one. I remember every single one of his textos, his calls, and mostly his emails. He was so in love with me that I didn't realize it until months later...but it was all too late.

I never told him how much I missed him, and I still do. I miss talking to him, I miss his stories about his friends and Cactus, I miss his french voice and his sweet look, I miss his way of looking at the world through those glasses, I miss being his friend.

Maybe it's time to re-live an old friendship, if I don't do it now, I never will.

ANGER EQUALS INSPIRATION




(mazpiration equals hating Maz...whoever)

my hands are cold

my nose is cold

my back is cold

and so is my hair

my lips

my eyes

my cheeks

my neck

my breasts

my tummy

my fingers

my tongue

my ears are cold

my lungs are cold

my teeth

both knees and elbows are cold

my vocal chords

my legs

my arms...

every inch of my body is cold.

because there is no one out there to make me warm

Soviet Cinema (part I)

The only way to keep my mind as busy as possible is not only by running on the seafront, but by reading books full of information about Dziga Vertov, Sergei Eisenstein or the big Lev Kuleshov. That's basically what I've been doing and my brain is full of Constructivism, Marxism, Leninism, Stalinism, Soviet montage theory, Poetic Cinema, the exponents of eccentrism, la politique des auteurs, Iconoclastic Abstraction, Revolution Russian Suprematism, Freud and Pavlov and many many other things.

Repeat after me, I love my life.

I repeat, I am dying

Morir a instantes se convierte en una mera rutina que empieza a dejarme indiferente ante cualquier sentimiento que contenga la excitación.

Ayer puse punto y final a la enfermedad que lleva meses ahogándome. Me parecen años de palabras oxidadas y promesas desvanecidas, como si todo se remontara a tiempos mitológicos. No consigo entender con exactitud cual es el proceso mental por el que se pasa para empezar a odiar a alguien. Yo solo he odiado a una persona en mi vida, pero no eres tu.

A mi no me basta con borrar tus huellas físicas o cybernéticas de mi vida, no me basta con ya no tener tu número, tu email, etc... será que porque me los se de memoria intento borrarlos de la parte trasera de mi cerebro. Tu fotografía colgada al lado de mi cama no ayuda mucho a olvidarte. El profundo sentimiento de dolor sigue sangrando cada vez más fuerte y no consigo sacarte de mi corazón, pero es porque yo me niego a olvidarte. Irene dice que igual estoy más enamorada de mis capacidades de amar que de tí mismo.

Te he comprado un libro, un libro que yo leí con 9 años y no entendí hasta los 15. He abierto una página sin mirar, y lo primero que he leído ha sido:

"why don't people's hearts tell them to continue to follow their dreams?" the boy asked the alchemist.

"Because that's what makes a heart suffer most, and hearts don't like to suffer."

y sólo me ha bastado eso para entender (me/te).

normalmente tu nunca dices nada, ahora soy yo la que no tengo nada que decir...

friday night "fever"

This is what usually happens on a friday night, when imagination needs to be developed and I'm hungry...

That's my first Polaroid 600 camera that my dad gave me for my 9th birthday...

and that's my first SUPER 8 camera that I bought with Andrea in Plaza Real, April 2008

Probably one of the best books I've ever read

Probablemente uno de los mejores libros que he leido

and when you're hungry...an apple. boring...you can tell by my face

y cuando tienes hambre...una manzana. aburrimiento...se refleja en mi cara

with Love, on a saturday cloudy and lazy day

con amor, en sabado nublado y dia vago por excelencia...

david's b-day!

Actually they were late. We were supposed to meet in Camden Town at 11.30 but they came at 1pm. Obviously, something typical that you kinda need to get used to if you're meeting David, Ruban and other 15 guys for a birthday celebration in Camden Town.

So after half an hour trying to find a place to sit, we finally got an amazing place just by the water (river, sea, channel, what the hell is it?) and the guys kept on buying pints like bottles of water...

It seemed like the only normal person there was me. David and I went to buy some chinese orange chicken (plastic fantastic? hahah) and then crêpês (to celebrate the summer diet?)

Exactly. All those people you see on the bridge and on the floor sitting were all of David's fans who came along thinking there was a party, but no, they all ended up going to Brick Lane for some "afternoon champagne" and then went clubbing.
As for me, I ended up going to a party in Brixton with my friends Zoran and Laurent and came back home on the 94 night-bus at 3a.m...

God...I'm gonna miss London.

bitter heart

my bitter heart...is getting just a little fragile

another one of those regular nights

Pablo and I met on the corner. That strange triangle corner that hosts many smokers and a photographer. As Armand went home after a great "almost-sunset" in the magical park, destiny or call it "coincidence" made me meet Pablo. One photograph, one smile, one pen and paper, and instantly an e-mail address, his iPod in my hands, mine in his, one little flying gift, blue balloons, a little bit of sugar, his lighter, one candle in his pocket, eloigimeno.com, clouds and the actual sunset, the beach, one guayaba juice, some ice, "let's walk down the road, I know an amazing bar!", one secret to share, his girlfriend, my boyfriend, things that don't work, things that don't work and we know they don't, trips to southern spain, trips to the north too, some rainy ocasions, no umbrella, free cash on streets, water, we want some infusions, hot baths, 8 years, 2 months, 12 years old in a 32 years old body, my grandmother comments, the little dog, cookie?, "let's go watch a film now", "I don't have money either, let's get inside secretly", little whispers in my ear, one hand, both, another one of those smiles, his glasses on my head, "can't you see anything?" and a "I can see your beauty, nothing else matters", a little cold, a little hot, some stroke, scary movies, one after another, "give me the pop corn, you are not allowed to eat, you'll get fat", nooooooooo, yes yes yes yes yes, another cookie, "you have a bike?", "I have two, and one is for you", a night, a sunrise, norah jones again, wind, peace, sleep on the grass, or on the beach, another lollipop, "this is one of those nights you could never forget", "I don't even know your name", "why do you need it? you know my eyes", around and around, go up, go down, kiss here, another there, breakfast on the beach, lunch on the beach, strokes on the beach, beach on the beach, you, me, here, there, and so it could go on forever.

P.S: Me ha gustado haberte encontrado. Llevo buscándote desde hace 3 vidas. ¿Dónde te habías metido?

106 horas en el paraiso, no tienen precio

No saber por dónde empezar es una de las mejores cosas que te pueden pasar.

Bocadillo en Vienna - 3,60 €
globo de helio - un pastón
que sólo veas a tu mejor amiga durante 2 horas y que entiendas que seguís unidas como el primer dia, no tiene precio

Targeta de metro T-10 - 7,70 €
Desayuno en la boqueria - 2,50 €
Que te confundan con una turista a pesar de hablar castellano por el movil, no tiene precio

Galletas Principe - 1,49€
Shisha super-guay - 20€
Tenerte sólo para mí durante 13 horas, no tiene precio

Llamada a tu casa - 0,79€
Botella de agua - 0,85€
Verte tocar la batería como un chulo y que al día siguiente nos pasemos 6 horas estirados en el mejor nuevo rincón de Barcelona, como en los viejos tiempos, no tiene precio

Vermut en la playa - 20€
Carrete para la cámara - 5,50€
Salir por el Born con los amigos de tu padre, como si no hubiera pasado 9 años, no tiene precio

Chupa chups - 1,5€ (6x0,25€)
Libro de M.B del Fnac - 8,35€
Mirar las estrellas contigo sintiendo miedo de cogerte la mano, no tiene precio

Coger el ferrocarril 1 vez - 1,35€
pintarte los labios con un nuevo pintalabios Christian Dior - 19€
Ver que justo a 2metros de ti, en el otro vagon de otro tren esta sentado tu primer amor, no tiene precio

Mojito - 4,50€
Shawarma - 5€
Irse de fiesta con Julio y entender que tu vida social comparada con la suya es una caquita de hamster, no tiene precio

Cuenta corriente de La Caixa - 100€
Mensaje a mi madre a Italia - 0,70€
Que los de La Caixa no me dejen sacar dinero por pensar que aun soy menos de edad, no tiene precio

No tiene precio que en Joanic, el sabado a las 2 de la madrugada, una tia me haga una foto con su movil con toda la cara (sabiendo que la estoy mirando) y luego me pida la hora.
No tiene precio que cuando estoy haciendo un video de despedida por la calle un lunes a medianoche unos locos me inviten a tomar algo y que yo encima acepte
No tiene precio que cuando voy a coger el maldito autobus del aeropuerto el conductor calvo me cierre la puerta diciendome que si llevo 2 maletas me tengo que esperar al siguiente autobus y me deje colgada.
No tiene precio enterarme de que Toni V. (el ''womanizer'' de la decada) ha hecho publica su homosexualidad.
No tiene precio volver a ver a todos tus amigos y entender que en sus vidas parece que no pasa el tiempo
No tiene precio despertar y desayunar en Barcelona y comer a las 2.30 en pleno Londres
No tiene precio hacer un video en el lavabo de un avion porque no tienes nada mejor que hacer
No tiene precio recibir un mensaje de alguien de quien jamas te hubieras esperado que te dijera que tiene muchas ganas de verte
No tiene precio ir a casa durante 4 dias y de hecho no pisar tu cada en mas de 3 ocasiones
No tiene precio todo lo que he hecho en Barcelona, casa minuto y cada milimetro recorrido han sido un regalo.
Mi vida, a veces, no tiene precio