Posted on 2012 at 15
Eighteen years ago, around this time of the year, I became a surrealist. I am sure I can trace a more exact date, but that would require some time. I remember that I went into spring break still being a standard teenager, and that avant-garde literally movements were some of our last lessons that year. My classes ended in late May, so this is clearly the time between those dates.
I remember I embraced surrealism and avant-garde in general to escape. This doesn't sound so ilogical, but the escape I wanted to achieve was a real escape to another world. I thought that by experimenting with surrealist techniques I could induce a certain state of mind that would take me to another world, and once there, I would never return. Kind of like a drug. I didn't quite achieve that, but the world never looked the same after I met surrealism.
Why do I call myself a surrealist eighteen years after my first conscious enconter with it, specially since I'm not so avant-garde anymore? Because I have a huge debt to the avant-garde. It was the last and definitive nail in the coffin of a very unhappy person. Afterwards, I felt resurrected, re-created, confident and strong. It made me clever. It turned my weak points into streghts. I couldn't draw, so I made collage and exquisite corpses. I had a very disjointed train of thought, perfect for automatic writing. It gave me treats which still characterize me to this day, like serendipity, non sequitur and a peerennial association with writing.
Yesterday I remembered my first kiss. I had forgoten. You see, this year will also be eighteen years since my backbone surgery. I remember that in the days where doctors were still determining whether I needed the surgery or not, I met this really handsome and youngish looking doctor. I nicknamed him Gallahar. I was really smitten by him. He was so nice and goodlooking, it was my first encounter with a gentleman. I remember I was dressed in a green t-shirt and my favourite jeans. He took me a to a room to examine me, then came other doctors and my mom. After that, my mom and I had to leave. He showed us to the exit and while my mother went to call the lift, I went back to Dr. Gallahar and took his hand and kissed him very very briefly. I stole my first kiss from a man at least twice my age (I was 14 back then).
The funny thing is that back then I was so unassuming, that the next time I saw him I did not act strange or ashamed. I felt no shame for what I had done. I talked to him, I told him silly jokes, he humored me eveery time. I think that was a time where I felt like taking risks without thinking about what I might lose or win. The important thing was the experience. For some reason, now I feel more identified with that ideology than ever before.
This is an important year. Lots new things will happen, and lots of old things will come back to life.
Posted on 2011 at 14
Wow! After i-don't-know-for-how-long, the Girl could see what I see in the Sycophant. Today when the Girl arrived at the office, she sais she was very glad to see me, that she needed someone to talk. The thing was that on friday, she went to one of the Sycophant's farewell parties (she'll be leaving Gutsa by the end of this month). ANd she was bothered by several things about her character.
The first thing that bothered the Girl was that the Sycophant bragged about how bad they'll fare at Gutsa now that she won't be there, that she did my work and the Girl's work all alone. The Girl said that was a very unfair thing to say, that it seemed like we have been spared of with a reason since our work could be done by one person alone.
The second thing that bothered her was that she finally knew about our new company for Smart-Lex. She was upset because the Girl didn't tell her. The Girl syas she didn't tell her because she was afraid that she might think we were playing dirty on the Sycophant. I know this is true because we've been discussing the matter for a long time. I even "let" her convince me that it was not necessary for us to tell the Sycophant, since this is entirely another business. What the Girl didn't like was the fact that the Sycophant told her she was very upset, that she made it appear as something akin to treason and then she rubbed it in her face when we have been very indulgent with her. She promised she would be with us a year ago, and not only she has not honoured her promise, she got another job and left us to deal with all the roughness of freelancing. She owes us money, she said her friends would give us an insane amount of work. And none of these things has happened. and we have not said a word about that. As the Girls said, we understand her circumstances and make concessions. But she just won't understand ours. I have to confess that my mouth has been shut purely for convenience - I do not want to give her the chance to play victim and slip again in the law firm. We know I could very well use the money she owes me.
The third thing that made the Girl unhappy was the one which led her to almost full comprehension of the Sycophant's real nature. The Girl apparently started talking about how much she despises R.R. The Sycophant was all like "Oh, come on, get over it, let it go" and she said something like "He never did anything bad to me, so he mustn't be as foul as you think he is". This was a big mistake on the Sycophant's part - the Girl just thought "How can she think this bloke is not that bad just because he never did anything bad to her? What about all the damage he did to her friends, including us?" It was a very selfish and stupid thing to say.
I let her talk and tried to take her to the point to which I wanted her to arrive: we are not the same. We have never been the same. We don't see the same things, she is very shallow and she is very selfish and she does not wish to collaborate. She just wants to receive.
The Girl says that at one point, the Sycophant told her that she was very changed, but in a way which made it sound like something bad.
The Girl is sad because of the realization that she and Sycophant are no longer on the same track and by that our team no longer exists, that they cannot be friends anymore. It's somethng similar to what happened between Pixan and me. One day we just had nothing in common. She said the same, that I had changed.
I also think we have changed, but I am happy with the changes. If i can get her to see the kind of person that the Sycophant really is, I'll be satisfied. I wish she could see that what she says about R.R. is pure servilism, just the way two years ago she told her that she was more than ready to leave Gutsa, that she had all her support. I think I will never know how much of those words were her nature getting the best of her or a desiere to make me look bad infront of the Girl, to make me look unenthusiastic and unsupportive. It doesn't matter now. It really doesn't.
Now on to different subjects - I've drown in an excess of my past. I don't know, everything seems to talk about the one that I was. I like it, but I feel like it is taking too much time away from me. I'd like nothing more than to sit down and put an order to my things and write what I remember and remember what i have forgotten. But geesh, just not now.
I've been having strange dreams also (very, very unusual thing in me, I know) One day I dreamed I had a red car made of candy and I licked the front parts of it. This weekend I dreamed i was kidnapped and forced to work. I escaped with two other girls and rented a small room to sleep. We worked as cooks afterwards.
Leonora Carrington died about a week and a half ago. I am sad, she was such a great artist, she had such marvelous stories. My life, the past that taunts me now would not be half as dear to me had it not been for her.
I'm listening to PJ Harvey right now. She's so great.
Posted on 2010 at 20
I am very tired with and dissapointed of this endeavour. It is not clear where we are going, what do we want. i feel like we are trying to cover a lot of things and in the end we don't cover anything. I don't know if we will be Real Estate lawyers, or civil lawyers or brokers or teachers or whatever.
Since the begining I felt there was something wrong with this, something that was not right. It was more than evident. In the first place it was her willingness to keep on working at 100% for our former employer, when it was evident that we were...
Geesh! I did not remember writing this! LJ asked me if I wwanted to recover my latest draft and this showed up. I venture it must be like three moths old, at least. Because in the latest three months things have changed enormously.
Gab is no longer working at Gutsa, nor is she working for Gutsa. Fortunately, she realized they were being abusive and that they were atill abusing her. It took a lot for her to realize and the experience was a very bitter one for her. Not for me. I already knew what kind of people they are. Things have been easier ever since she stopped working for them.
Then there's the Hemisphucks (i would link them, but they will surely find my blog and I do not want those imbeciles to find this place...yet). They spoiled a really good deal Gab wanted to do with them. Again, I did not agree on negotiating with them. I think they are not reliable, that they want to take advantage of everybody and that they are just a bunch inept people with some luck. I refuse to base a deal on luck alone. Besides, I know they have a lot of problems, and if they a¡do not have them right now, they will. Their tax situation is precarious and it would take a minor audit to make it fall apart. I do not want to be associated with such people. Anyhow, no matter my objections, Gab was adamant on making the deal with them. I conceded on letting them have a small part... but the uneasyness about it all remained.
Fortunately, they spoiled everything in a meeting. Gab could see for herself how stupid they are, how conceited and how incompetent they can get. Just so i don't forget, I will only say that they told our contact with very important people in National Security that they were not complying with a contract with the Ministry of State (also related to National Security) and that Stephane could go to jail because of that!!!!! Can you believe it? The only thing missing was sending an e-mail saying "Oh, do not hire us, we're too fool to this right".
So, another thing I was right in. It really doesn't make me happy. I wish I had more of a second sight for good things, instead of being like a predictor of disasters.
But not everything is bad. As I said before, everything is easier and smoother now. I think we can make a lot of progress now.
As for me, well... I'm trapped in the past and enjoying it awufully. It's been eight Saturday nights in a row that I stay awake past midnight. I call it "Spear the heart of the night". I watch movies and videos on my net book (LaRoux). I look for information and songs and videos of the Poet, something I had not done in ages. I am trying to write once again, loike before. But it is not like before. Different things inspire me now. Words are different. I am trying to write again in spanish. It is hardeer than I thought. It is specially harder to remember how natural and easy everything was before, how effortless. And now I feel stagnant, forced... But I keep trying.
I look at him and find myself wondering how his life might be now. I regard him now as an old friend whom I barely understand, but no matter what, I do not wish to end our friendship.
I also try to imagine the rest of the Tzingane story, give it some coherence and ebentually, give it an end. In fact, I already have an end to it. It was difficult to do that, befcause everything was so perfect in the story that it would have been madness to put an end to it. My new ending is that we stopped dating regularly after spring break because school got too hectic and we could not meet at my home because my dad moved his office to our ballroom. He agreed on a short break. We had planned it would last only till I graduated from highschool. Then I would start the pre-college courses, but that would be easy. And then college which everyone promised would be a bed of roses after Maddox.
Oh, but we know how everything turned out. College was INFINITELY more difficult than I had planned and the pre-college courses were torture to me. I asked him to give me more time... and we ended up having lunch in early october, after my first exams had passed and I had overcome the terror of maybe not being able to stay in college, let alone keep the scholarship. We had stopped seeing each other in May, we reunited six months later to part ways. It was all very friendly. He wished me luck and told me to relax. He believed in me. He was sure he would see me again in no time, when I felt comfortable with my new life. I doubted myself, but he did not doubt my capacity to do well at school. He was right. I did well in my first semester and I was considering calling him again, but then I fell in love with ADC and he was discarded from my life forever.
I'm having a very good time, I can't deny it. Though remembering something which I was so sure was gone forevcer feels... disquieting.
Oh, and today I knew of another thing in which I was right. Our friend got obssessed with The Girl and is behaving like a complete asshole. I always knew he was not a very good bloke, but I gave him the benefit of doubt. Well, he misunderstood the mesage. But The Girl should have known what kind of bloke he was... shouldn't she? I do not know anymore. I have a gift, that's for sure. But sometimes I assume other people can see what I see.
This Saturday will be my ninth night. The ninth wave, the last one before drowning. I'm making the ritual of Lilith. This Saturday i will finish the first quarter.
Posted on 2010 at 19
A dream is a little fire. Consciousness blows it away, leaving only an ephimeral and tiny column of smoke, something so diaphanous, that it cannot be trapped or kept. Though sometimes the consious mind is able to retain it briefly, and sometimes we are brave enough to put the dream-smoke into a jar. Then it turns into something like an exotic animal, batting its wings, looking at us from behind the glass, spreading pixie dust into the limited space of its prison. It becomes a curiosity, a matter of careful study.
But dreams are not only made of the things hidden in our unconscious mind. They also find meaning and life in the daily events of the days prior to their birth. But as time goes by, not only we are unable to recollect the dream, but we also forget how life was like when we dreamed. Thus, when we go back to our cabinet full of bell jars containing lively oniric beasts, we only find empty exoskeletons and dried skins stretched over static bones. Our fantastic zoo has turned into the slightly creepy collection of a taxidermist or an entomologist.
Yet, it sometimes occurs that we find an old, forgotten journal, a brief note inside a book -- a clue to the past and to the dream as well. And most wondefully, it sometimes happens that along with this material witness of days past, comes a cascade of memories, of sounds and sensations of a time that appears so far away, that we are tempted to think our memories are form a previous life. This sudden memories act as an elixir for our disected reveries. The memories replenish the empty carapaces forgotten in they displays. They come to life again, they sparkle and glide. We can then realize that, yes, it's true that time and oblivion once despoiled our dreams of their livelyness, but time has also given back something in return. Because the dreams and the memories now shine with a light they did not possess before -- they shine with the light of comprehension.
Posted on 2010 at 17
If, as Giordano Bruno theorized, there are multiple universes superposed to this very one, I would like to visit that in which I got Yue Liang and I am a successful lawyer. 'Cause if I'm still me in that universe, then I'm critical of my circumstances and wishing and daydreaming about having a different life -- the life I'm leading right now, maybe. And I would like to travel to that universe and have a cuppa with myself and talk about all the inconveniences of having the 'life of my dreams'. It would be an awesome therapy for everyone who's a little depressed, like me, for instance. I would come back consoled and maybe extremely grateful that I didn't get what I wished so much.
I'm sorry. I'm under a lot of stress right now and heartbroken (once) again. It felt good to be back in LJ after months and months of 140-character-ed restrictions.
Posted on 2009 at 19
Is it so difficult to figure out that a 47-paged document will make a gargantuan PDF file when scanned? I know, I know. I promised not to be whiny here, but tis is really funny. What kind of lamebrain expects to create a reasonable sized PDF out of 47 real life sheets?
On another note, I'm drafting a document that establishes a collegiate decision organ. I wasn't told how many members this committe must have, but of course it must be an odd number to prevent deadlock. And for a moment, I thought that it would be totally cool to refer to this number as a "prime number". Then I felt like an asshole 'cause 2 is also a prime number. Anyhow, I still think I'll draft my document with the prime number reference for the sole reason that I'm a bitch and want to have a good laugh at lawyers and managers who have no bloody idea of what a prime number is.
Maybe to-morrow I'll buy a new car for the ol' ones. A 2007 Volkswagen, nothing fancy, something rather proletarian, in fact. The price is really ridiculous and I am very happy because it is the first thing of importance that I'll contribute to the house. Yay for me. And also because now I can REALLY start saving to recover the Zimmer. I'm very much afraid that my piano's ransom will be much much higher than the new car.
Posted on 2009 at 11
My apple is rotten and inedible. I will have to go out and buy junk instead of eat wholesome, fresh fruit.
Speaking of inedidble fruits, I'm writing an entry about durian, the stinkiest fruit of 'em all.
I'm listening to Pizzi Five. I had completely forgoten Pizzi Five makes me very happy.
I created a new blog: The Amazing Ninja Circus, at blogger. I still don't know what to do with it.
Well, off to buy junk food!
Posted on 2009 at 09
Next week I'll buy candy to treat all the little monsters, vampires and ghosts (specially ghosts) that knock my door on Halloween.
I'll dress up like this, skeleton arm and all:
And it will be super fun because the next day I'll go to my very favourite retro resto to have breakfast.
My chinese exam was dreadful, but I still have hopes of getting a decent mark. I would like so much to have lunch with my classmates, they are extremely cool people.
Posted on 2009 at 18
You know what? I'm fed up of angst and sadness. At least in my blog.
So here's a promise and a late present for my beloved songofgomorrah's 4th anniversary: No more depressive entries, only fun, and creative and happy things. I have another place where I can dump all those stupid feelings. This was originally supposed to be a nice place. I will make blogging here a nice experience once again.
Posted on 2009 at 16
If the following events hadn't happened when I was FULLY awake and conscious, I would be inclined to believe that they were part of one of those really flamboyant dreams I'm having lately. My story goes like this:
My new boss asked me to join her and Gab on Friday to have lunch with another external lawyer. I was trying to politely deny the invitation because I'm really not involved in the cases this guy coordinates. As way to coerce my acceptance, my boss says that this guy might be good looking 'cause he's an Argentinian actress' boyfriend. So what? The bloke is still irrelevant to me. But of course being the example of social grace I am, I answer that she cannot bribe me with looks, because what's cute to many people is stupid-looking to me. I may even have a mild case of atypophilia. She asks who I like then and I decide to not lie. I like Alan Rickman and a bunch of other guys whom she doesn't know. Seeing the difficulty in assesing my taste in men, she asks the characteristics of my ideal guy. O.K. I really love to talk about my ravens, so I start: black hair, slightly hooked nose, pale, straight eyebrows, acid humour, blah, blah, blah.
"What about their ass?", she continues.
"I really don't mind", I answer, "I'm more into slim guys with sexy legs."
"And what about their dick? 'Cause that's important, you know?"
WHAT IN THE NAME OF FORD WAS THAT WOMAN THINKING!!! My guys' prick size is really something I do not want to discuss with my boss! What was she expecting to hear? Oh, I don't like them to be gigantic 'cause they hurt and it takes like forever to get them inside. Or maybe: I wouldn't know, 'cause you know, I'm a virgin.
For the record, I really don't mind the size. Thank Ford I am creative and can come up (pun intended) with a lot of ways in which my bloke can pleasure me.