this mess we're in

Haiiro

2005-07-17T03:21:00.000-05:00

Paré a una camioneta por él, ahora un pendejo "veterinario" lo mata haciéndole un enema... life is full of fucked-up things.

He was a good cat. A fighter. Stoic. Silly. A very strong kitten with a furious will to live.

I am pissed off. Extremely pissed off.

I have to trust my feelings, and act accordingly.

He'll be remembered. I will not forget.

Awake.

2005-04-12T05:10:00.000-05:00

i was lost.
i'm sorry i lost myself.
i really am.

i'm no longer lost.

i was asleep.
i'm sorry i was asleep.
i really am.

i'm no longer asleep.

deleted and/or edited previous posts. the little things that vanished with the rest of the crap will surely be born again, better.

i forgot my duties. i forgot my heritage. i forgot my calling. i forgot my power. it will not happen again.

there are people on this world who should start being afraid, for i am back from the dead. no weapon can hurt me now.

i can walk through walls.

this is it.

Horoscope.

2004-10-20T14:43:00.000-05:00

Scorpio: (Oct. 24—Nov. 21)

Nothing can stop you now, but that's a natural consequence of your not trying to do much of anything.

never is a promise

2004-10-18T20:51:00.000-05:00

Hopelessly,
I’ll love you endlessly
Hopelessly,
I’ll give you everything

But I won’t give you up

I won’t let you down

I won’t leave you falling
If the moment ever comes.

(title: f.apple, text: m.bellamy)

and now you called. so, as it has always been, as it will always be, i'm going to you.

2004-10-06T20:14:00.000-05:00

hello. again. whispering words to the nether, as usual. the good thing now is that they never will read them... at least not by choice. maybe someone will stumble upon these words, but they will not be led or guided here.

sí, sólo estoy escribiendo para pasar el tiempo. nietzsche me mataría.

ella está a mi lado. y yo estoy aquí. funny how things develop. y sí, justo en este instante la voy a besar. ya. y su paranoia la hace pensar que la besé por dios-sabe-qué horribles cosas cuando en realidad la besé porque ella está a mi lado y ella es ella, no la otra... y no, no me refiero a la otra, otra, sino a la otra ella. y realmente me vale madre que la frase anterior no pueda ser entendida por la gente. ella la entiende, y eso es mucho más que suficiente para mí. y sí, justo en este instante la voy a volver a besar, aunque, en su paranoia, piense que la volví a besar por dios-sabe-qué horribles cosas y no sepa que la volví a besar porque ella está a mi lado y es ella.

Waking up.

2004-05-30T14:26:00.000-05:00

la filosofía y la literatura tienen que ir de la mano, por eso borges es infinitamente superior a cualquier otro escritor y filósofo latinoamericano. no sólo importa lo que dices, sino cómo y cuándo lo dices.

en esta generación de idiotas felices y de pseudointelectuales estúpidos, a dónde volteará el hombre para su salvación? si el futuro está en sus manos, mejor sería acabar con todo de una vez... o mejor sería acabar con ellos.

look at them talking, so naively believing they have something important or meaningful to say. they talk about concepts they don't have the capacity of understanding, much less discussing. like children playing to be adults... but the scary part is that they should be adults now, but remain as ignorant and bluffing children.

i'm no longer afraid of knowing what to do. i'm no longer afraid of being right. so let's burn the houses of decadence and pass the knife to the warm-blooded! infect the unsuspecting with knowledge and set fire to all the expired values and truths! the time of change has arrived, inexorably.

the sword of zarathustra has been unsheated.

the will of the antichrist has been unleashed.

2004-03-04T05:19:00.000-06:00

5:16am

i am so tired, so tired. my eyes are pressed against my skull. during this sleeplessness i've come through to another place. i'm relinquishing my self-imposed duties, i'm sheathing my sword. this time i want to return to my castle and fight my own battles, defend my own ground, conquer new territories.

2004-03-03T04:43:00.000-06:00

journal

4:40am

arrived home after a really long talk with lala at al's. it's incredible how can we chat for hours and go to the deepest levels of complexity while changing suddenly to extreme forms of simplicity and absurd.

2004-03-01T01:09:00.000-06:00

journal

1:05am

'journaled' the whole weekend. finally cleaned the cat vomit and did laundry. the madrid cough is still on... maybe i'll go to the doctor this week. i just came from seeing 'big fish' and crying my heart out. danny elfman is great, so is tim burton (and ewan mcgregor... and helena bonham-carter... and steve buscemi... and danny devito... ok: the whole fuckin' cast). oh, the 'timing' issue again. too late, too soon. but, fuck, why people don't fight against it? if that person/thing comes when it's not a proper time, then fuckin' make it proper! friggin' cowards...

how come some people are bent on hurting the ones who love them most? i hate it when a friend is in pain (specially when i saw the situation coming miles ahead and couldn't convince him that it was going to happen). anyway, sometimes one can only offer support and a good ear. toxic people should do everyone a favor and go to therapy... or at least have the decency of carrying a sign: 'don't get near me' (along with the line 'don't fall in love with me, i'll just hurt you', which, by the way, comes accross as the most cowardly, self-indulgent and immature attitude in the world).

2004-03-01T00:59:00.000-06:00

sunday, feb. 29

5:33am

writing songs. saw 'thirteen', got depressed; so many lost, trying to find a way in all the wrong places. the only true act of rebellion is creation, everything else is bullshit. coffee talks; beer and dice; sad arpeggios. i just wanted to hold someone and be happy together, to talk about philosophy at midnight, to know her skin was mine, to be able to trust in her. i must sleep. clothes still need to be washed. cat vomit is still in the floor. same cough. sadness in strings, sadness in rythm. loop. i took off my shirt. its cold. sterile skin. falling asleep.

3:14pm

much needed rest. i have tons of homework and studying to do if i want to get better grades. tomorrow must pay the nerv.com.mx hosting: 180dlls. jerked off twice in the morning, it helped me get more sleep. i want to go see big fish. there are many books about nietzsche that i have to read, and i want to finish sartre's nausea this week.

2004-03-01T00:29:00.000-06:00

saturday, feb. 28

5:40am

'i am hungry again, i am drunk again.' i feel very tired. my eyelids are falling, and yet i opened the laptop to write. what is this urge to be around friends? i've been staying up really late these past few days, and it is wearing me out; i've lost all the last mornings and there are many things that need to be done but i haven't got the time to do them. somehow i've been trying to make the pain bearable, to divert my mind into discussing 80's music or the amount of crap that women (and i) carry in their purses.
my body cannot stand more of this. i need to rest and take some antibiotics for the cough. there is a pile of clothes that need to be washed. personal and nerv issues are lagging because of my messed up sleeping patterns. there is cat vomit all over the room that i just sprinkled with cat litter but haven't cleaned.
dramatic scenes and fights. i'm falling asleep, i'll continue with this tomorrow. my brain's about to shut down.

12:16pm

in need of music. lala woke me up: he doesn't want to rehearse today. strangely, my head doesn't hurt. i had plans to go to the gym today, but instead i'll discuss certain nerv issues with lala while he has time.
there's nothing i would like to do more than to lock myself into my cave and rest and read and write and compose and paint more things in the walls of my room and listen to all the music i have and analyze it. the only thing that stops me from doing it is fear, fear that, when i close the entrance behind me, i'll find out that some memories managed to sneak in and that they will haunt me all day and prevent me from doing the things i wanted to do. as a matter of fact, i think those memories ARE living right now in my cave, floating around like sad purple ghosts, and that is the reason i try so hard to be outside.
last night i first went to migraña's house. after some time there we went to monterrey pop (horrible, horrible, horrible place) because a friend of them had a b-day party there (that person happens to be my cousin... but we are not close, since we are very different from each other). there we talked about going to london in the summer, i think it's going to be a very exciting time. even when drunk i cannot stop thinking, i cannot be a blissful idiot. after eating in don julio we went back to migraña's house, where we watched a nirvana tape. that is a real band. an exgf of one of the persons in the party arrived drunk; after a few minutes she stormed out of the place, hit a window, cut her hand, and drove away like the devil in her truck. that made me think about something, but i cannot remember what.
i've been sleeping very few hours, and i'm starting to hate this fucking cough. i'm sick of lies and false pretending. kashmir is currently the band i'm into, though i need to analyze its music in more depth. don't know what else to write; i feel i have more to say, but i'm writing crap, so i'd better stop. breakfast. shower. run away from her.e.

2004-02-27T16:57:00.000-06:00

4:06am

i'm writing on the laptop; it feels like one of the nights in tetuán, pouring my thoughts into the computer. i remember my magnificient window, the view, the stars, the purple nights, the action figure that hanged from the tree with branches like skeleton's hands. it was so little time, but it felt like years; the nostalgia hurts like if it had been ages.
it's cold again, though it's not snowing like in madrid. i was in europe for 8 months and i never saw snow. how i wish i was there in the snow, with the razor-sharp madrilean wind cutting my face and my hands. there is the thought of a person enjoying that with me, but i've managed to shadow that out of my mental image; everything's been like under a shadow lately.
my head hurts. i went to café iguana around 10 o'clock, alan tagged along. we were going to drink there for a while and then catch fonka-tonka at the clandestino after meeting the rest of the sinaloa party at the café.
café iguanas is the only place in monterrey that is located in the main nightclub area, plays good music, has relatively cheap beer and is frecuented by a number of good looking people. this night i met everybody there! first there was eliud and héctor, who were trying to get a gig for nerv and their band (no final resolution on that one). i ran into ' tocayo lennon' (pedro lennon, ' lennon' from now on), a friend of mine who studies medicine; it was almost 4 years since the last time i saw him, so we are going to the sierra madre brewing co. next week to catch up. a pretty blonde girl was in a 'nirvana' t-shirt; she studies at the itesm and i'll try to see if migrañas can get along with her (it's her ideal woman: a female kurt cobain).
i'm falling asleep (4:33am). i'll continue this after i rest a while... i did not drink that much, but the bed feels shaky.

15:16pm

'never say a word again.' i really should not be staying up late these days, i still have the cough i've been carrying since returning from madrid; my muscles ache and i cough several times a day without reason; i feel old, very old.
after café iguana we went to clandestino to hear fonka-tonka. the musicians of the band are on of the best i've ever heard; the drummer, specially, sounds like nothing i've ever heard before. the only one who tarnishes the band's glow is the singer/MC, who should never be allowed near a microphone again. my only complaint about the music is that, unless you're dancing to it or playing it, it gets really boring after 3 or 4 songs. also on the clandestino i met ale gzz. again, a girl from the school i somewhat fancied a couple of years ago (she is rather small, so that was a problem, but she gives a very energetic vibe).
when it was about 3:30am i decided to call the night quits. i enjoy a lot hanging out with alan, migrañas, yuca, pollo, beto and the rest, but i feel that, even in company with good friends, i am alone. alone i walked through the barrio antiguo's streets back to my car (the others continued in the clandestino -i can't afford to stay that late, specially since any change in my sleep pattern has the risk of making me go insomniac again).
walking alone with my thoughts during the night is an experience that i always enjoy, even when sometimes i have the fear that i enjoy it because that is my destiny: to be alone with my thoughts, and that all my efforts to fight it will never suffice. i am different to most people, and though i can pretend and socialize with them, the truth is that there is never a serious connection, there is never an understanding. some people are amused by me, other entertained, others annoyed, others put off, others fearful, but never empathic. the strongest connection i ever had was utterly broken by lies... and even now i wonder if i was really understood by that person. there are kindred souls, a few, but they exist, who understand because they are different too, and we share a bond and talk for hours about all and nothing. and there are the ones who don't understand, but offer me their friendship nevertheless. to both i am deeply grateful.
on the way to the car i passed by the back side of the history museum, right up to the same street where i said goodbye to the spark that came unexpectedly and left a promise and a warm flame within me; it was the place where i gave some sugar cubes to one who knew their real value; it was the place where i received hope.

2004-02-26T02:22:00.000-06:00

speed. god bless speed... go anywhere, but fast. go anywhere, any place, just keep moving. just move. when you're travelling fast, you can't notice any details, everything's hazy, everything can be just the way you want it to be.

2004-02-26T01:28:00.000-06:00

unread journal entries

it's always red and dry
always erratic
juvenile yearning
talk, talk it out
let it go, like rotten rocks

time passes so slow
eyelids falling

how you--------never-----let
betrayed me----trust ----yourself
how you--------again-----go
betrayed me

betrayed she's not a good person.

i'm so sad. so broken. n n
so stupid. so naive. so naive. e e
she's bad. a monster. an idiotic r r
teenager. a force of nature. v v
unwashed jeans. soiled dreams.

she happens to you, like an earthquake.

2004-02-24T21:31:00.000-06:00

choose. choose not to.
'i can't'. i don't want to.
things do not 'happen' to us, we choose them.
such a great weight upon our shoulders.
such a great grief upon our bodies.
such a great sadness in the covers.
such a great lie to make it over.

2004-02-23T22:45:00.000-06:00

{where i end and you begin}

distance. unmendable cracks. there is a gap between the train and the station. the land is soiled, the sky is soiled, the sea is soiled. schism. that hypnotic bassline. all of 'hail to the thief' smells like england, like little rooms, like longing, like train rides during rain, like waning/waxing whishes and hopes. it brings me back to sleepless nights and diaries. tropical fruit juice. welcomes and goodbyes. everything has changed. estación en curva, tengan cuidado de no introducir el piE entre coche y andén. how could you do it? miles stretch and solidify, miles that i travelled twice. this song is great.

'i can watch but not take part
where i end and where you start
where you
you left
you left me alone.'

july 9, 2003.

it is brewing up
inside me again
coursing my veins
defiling me
while covered in sweat
i find your name so strange

it is bursting through my bones
like a shrill of pain
bending my joints
while lying prone
my skin forgets your flesh

and i can't speak
can't raise my voice
it hurts too much
and it now sounds foreign

my own words startle me
defy what i believe in
and i can't come through to you
they can't reach you

you sailed away, your ship on fire.

i w i l l eat YOU a l i v e >>> and there'll be N O M O R E L I E S...

2004-02-22T18:41:00.000-06:00

journal

han sido días pequeños y noches largas. extreme weather, as usual in monterrey. hoy debería de haber hecho mucha tarea que tenía backlogged, pero en lugar de eso me puse a chattear, escribir, sacar canciones de muse, ver los SAG's, etc.

ví a vaquero en el havana el jueves. very hot, very crowded. the stage was the worst i've ever seen. the place is not built for bands to play there. vaquero sounds like a cute oasis, permanently set on 1994. their energy was great, and they showed great musicianship. the songs are good, well-crafted (chetes knows how to write songs... that's a rare skill in mexico), but they lack variety and 'evilness'; also, they do not bring something new, they are just taking 10 year old sounds and presenting them to us again. anyway, they sound very good live, and they are one of the few bands who can actually write proper songs (though the lyrics border on coldplayesque meaninglessness).

muchas bandas en una tocada el viernes, en una casa por la del valle. interesting scene. luego fui a ver a kinky al manaus. crowded also. i'm not very keen on kinky's music, but they sure know how to do their thing with the audience. la plaza donde está el manaus está muy europea.

sábado. tocamos en el clandestino. we rocked the fuckin' place out. god, i love my shredmaster. nerv rules. el diablo mató, como siempre. no había monitores, ni ampli de bajo. luego fui a una fiesta sinaloense. rave en la huasteca. frío y húmedo. la semana de desvelos took its toll y regresé como a las 4:30am. ya estaré mejor preparado para paul oakenfold en marzo.

no sé qué hacer con este blog... tal vez algún día lo ordene por secciones (diario, escritos, ficción, thoughts, rantings, etc). por el momento sólo escribiré. i still have the fucking cough... it's starting to annoy me. i'm playing time is running out's bassline. my thumb is still bleeding from playing el diablo last night; life is great.

2004-02-22T16:49:00.000-06:00

unread guestbook entries

('twas in Feb. 2)

stranger than blue jolts of disinfecting nothingness, i talked and talked about nothing at all, that is, about everything that matters.
when things are easy they are at their most complex point of their existence; when everything fits in effortlessly, there is a giant invisible force working hard to make that happen.
as an art, we couldn't reach any new grounds without knowing what it was in the first place. i want and then know, i want and then love.
silly mrs. period went to class to start a fire and ended up lonely in her own blood; clots and clothes around her, she cried for 18 minutes before her head exploded, then she was happy -the janitor was not.
crossing troupes of rambling trovadours ran up the alleyway and started to take off their clothes for money or vegetables.
ah, it's good to be alive when no one else is. the future is inevitable.
i love it when you laugh. i love you when you laugh.

('twas in Jan. 8)

and i heard your voice my hearth pounded and you said you were home and i understood home is not here is there where you are where i'm not and i miss you but i'm happy and sad not a lot to give but enough your voice travels here and i gasp at all the feelings smells like may like me before you like endless chances and no i'm not letting go not now that i found you not now that i love you and i thank you your voice i grab unto it and it shows me the way the right way not here not in this hell won't listen to other voices but yours that i hold that i follow stood on the phone with an idiot grin with a smile and a future in your voice and i hear and i hear it and i hear you and i know and don't know why but i believe in your voice.

('twas in Jan. 5)

they never said distance could actually hurt; that void can be felt; that life can be meaningless.
you'll never read these lines, and you probably wouldn't care.
this emptiness around us suffocates, dampens and sticks in our lungs. you've erected new barriers; you've built a 1,000 feet wall and i'm running out of ideas and strenght to breach it.
i'm too far away from salvation and, still, with my final wish i wish for you.
i'll die in your blue flames.

('twas in Dec. 5)

Oh god. I wasn't there when she needed the spanish pasta, and now you're corrugated and alienated. But we stood and smiled and frowned and bashed around undressed like cotton candy in a science fair and margaritas. Cool like morning dew and vodka. Fresh like lies and backstabbing wounds. Polite like war declarations and divorces and breakups and infidelities. Dirty like benches on a park, dirty like purring on someone else's shoulder or sound recorder or general direction. Walking hand in hand, like fucking romeo & juliet, stoned and cheating, driving daggers deep.
have a fucking nice day!