lunes, 26 de septiembre de 2011

Mr. Crowley

Mr. Crowley, what went wrong in your head?  Oh, Mr. Crowley, did you talk with the dead?  Your life style to me seemed so tragic with the thrill of it all.
You fooled all the people with magic, you waited on Satan's call.
Mr. Charming, did you think you were pure? Mr. Alarming, in nocturnal rapport. Uncovering things that were sacred manifest on this Earth, conceived in the eye of a secret and they scattered the afterbirth.
Mr. Crowley, won't you ride my white horse? Oh, Mr. Crowley, it's symbolic of course. Approaching a time that is classic, I hear maidens call.
Approaching a time that is drastic, standing with their backs to the wall. Was it polemically sent? I wanna know what you meant.

I love the way you lie.

On the first page of our story the future seemed so bright. Then this thing turned out so evil, I don't know why I'm still surprised.
Even angels have their wicked schemes and you take that to new extremes. But you'll always be my hero even though you've lost your mind.
Now there's gravel in our voices, glasses shattered from the fight. In this tug of war you always win even when I'm right.
Because you feed me fables from your head with violent words and empty threats and it's sick that all these battles are what keeps me satisfied.
So maybe I'm a masochist, I try to run but I don't wanna ever leave. Until the walls are going up in smoke with all our memories.
Just gonna stand there and watch me burn. Well, that's alright because I like the way it hurts.
Just gonna stand there and hear me cry. Well, that's alright because I love the way you lie.

viernes, 23 de septiembre de 2011

The house that built me.

I know they say you can’t go home again, I just had to come back one last time. Ma’am, I know you don’t know me from Adam, but these handprints on the front steps are mine.
Up those stairs in that little back bedroom is where I did my homework and I learned to play guitar. I bet you didn’t know under that live oak my favorite dog is buried in the yard.
If I could just come in I swear I’ll leave, won’t take nothing but a memory from the house that built me.
Mama cut out pictures of houses for years from "Better Homes and Gardens" magazine. Plans were drawn and concrete poured, nail by nail and board by board, daddy gave life to mama's dream.
You leave home and you move on and you do the best you can, I got lost in this old world and forgot who I am.
I thought if I could touch this place or feel it this brokenness inside me might start healing. Out here it’s like I’m someone else, I thought that maybe I could find myself.
If I could walk around I swear I’ll leave, won’t take nothing but a memory from the house that built me.



Sé que dicen que no podes volver a casa de nuevo, sólo tuve que regresar una última vez. Señora, sé que no me conoce de Adam, pero esas huellas de manos en los escalones de la entrada son mías.
Al subir las escaleras, en esa pequeña habitación de atrás es donde hice mi tarea y aprendí a tocar la guitarra. Apuesto a que no sabe que debajo de ese roble, en el jardín, está enterrado mi perro favorito.
Si pudiera pasar, le juro que me iré, no me voy a llevar nada exepto un recuerdo de la casa que me construyó.
Mamá corto fotos de casas por años, de la revista "Casas y jardines mejores". Se dibujaron los planos y se echó el cemento. Clavo por clavo y tabla por tabla, papá le dió vida al sueño de mamá.
Te vas de casa y seguís adelante y hacés lo mejor que podés, yo me perdí en este viejo mundo y me olvidé quien soy.
Pensé que quizá si pudiera tocar este lugar o sentirlo, este quebrantamiento adentro mío podría empezar a sanar. Ahí afuera es como si fuera otra persona, pensé que podría encontrarme.
Si pudiera pasear por aquí, le juro que me iré. No me llevaré nada exepto un recuerdo de la casa que me construyó.

martes, 20 de septiembre de 2011

The sound of drums.

Can you hear them? They're coming. They're in the signal, they're in my head.
Is it only me? Am I the only one to be called? This pounding in my ears is calling me to rule the world. Rule the universe as a Master of your fate. Can you hear the drums? Don't try to fight them; it's too late.
Each Time Lord child approaches the eye forced to behold the vortex to be inspired or run. But as I gazed into the vastness of time, I heard the sound of drums.
Can you hear them? They're coming. They're in the signal, they're in my head.
In professor's guise, oh Doctor, Doctor, you have healed me. You are not alone, it took you far too long to see me.
Now I lay in your arms, mortally wounded in your care. I'll leave you here forever, last of the Time Lords once again.
"Don't leave me now, think of all we've done together, think of all the vanquished foes, think of all we could be."
It would be hell for me, imprisoned here forever, with you.
"Don't, please, you've got to, please, we're the only ones left, please, just REGENERATE!"
Can you hear them? In my dreams they're calling. They're coming and every waking moment. They're in the signal, I heard the signal calling, they're in my head.
Can you hear them? I hear the sound. They're coming, the sound of drums. They're in the signal, they're in my head.

lunes, 19 de septiembre de 2011

I hope it's nice where you are.

Posiblemente haya sido el hecho de que terminé de leer un libro que me puso el dedo el la llaga, pero siguiendo mi estúpida self-destructive actitud hoy decidí enfrentarme a un hecho chico que me aterrorizaba. Ver fotos.
Simplemente busqué una foto. No específica, pero una foto. Revisé los cajones hasta que encontré las fotos de mi comunion, para encontrarme con la foto de mi abuela al lado mio.
Y reaccioné exactamente como sabía que iba a reaccionar. Si, lloré. Si, mucho.
Siempre con esa sonrisa, y ese pelo del mismo color de sus ojos. A eso le tenía miedo, a abrir la herida otra vez, a enfrentarme denuevo con los recuerdos que no queria olvidar, pero que me perseguían.
Fué volver a escuchar su risa en mi oído, fué volverle a agarrar la mano. Fué dolor, tristeza y nostálgia, todo a la vez. Fué llorar lo que no lloré en su funeral. Fue finalmente a travezar lo último que me quedaba de duelo, la realidad.
Era saber que cualquiera puede tirar lágrimas, sentir el nudo en la garganta y la picazón en los ojos, pero pocos pueden llorar.
Sólo podía comparar esa Elena, con la que estaba en esa cama de madera esa madrugada, que yo ya no consideraba mi abuela.
Por que mi abuela era hermosa, y sus ojos brillaban de alegría con sus nietos, y siempre nos mostraba esa sonrisa suya. No, mi abuela no era ese cuerpo frío enfrente mío. No era ese...recipiente vacío. Y seguramente fué por eso que no lloré. Por que no veía a mi abuela ahi. Y quizá "La vida después de la muerte" sea sólo un dicho para tratar de soportar el dolor, pero si existe, ella se merece el más precioso de los paraísos.
Y en el libro que leí aprendí algo: Que si tomamos su código genético, su cuerpo, y sus recuerdos, todo esto junto no nos da a mi abuela. Por que el todo es más a la suma de las partes, por que hay algo más, y este algo no puede ser creado ni destruído. No puede nacer ni morir.  Y que no desapareció cuando ese 6 de Julio ella tuvo ese paro cardiaco respiratorio.
Y aunque la realidad es la realidad, y sé que ese cuerpo se descompone en el nicho 6471 del cementerio, transformandose en huesos para luego ser polvo, eso ya no duele. Por que no es mi abuela la que está ahi.
Las últimas palabras de Thomas Eddison fueron "Es muy hermoso allá", y quizá nunca sepa cuales fueron las últimas palabras de mi abuela antes que le pusieran la anestésia en la sangre, y tampoco sé donde es "Allá", pero sé que es en algún lado, y espero que sea hermoso. Por que ella se lo merece.
Y este pensamiento es que me empuja a seguir. Llámenme ilusa, pero perdemos cosas para darnos cuenta lo importates que son, y de las lecciones que nos dejaron. Y eso me da esperanza. Por que somos indestructibles, invencibles, inmortales. "La muerte no es más que la próxima gran aventura".

Here alone.

I really don’t know what ‘I love you’ means. I think it means ‘Don’t leave me here alone’.

viernes, 16 de septiembre de 2011

Wonderful universe of impossibilities.

Through crimson stars and silent stars and tumbling nebulas like oceans set on fire. Through empires of glass and civilizations of pure thought and a whole terrible wonderful universe of impossibilities.

Paradise.

When she was just a girl she expected the world but it flew away from her reach and bullets catch in her teeth. Life goes on, it gets so heavy. The wheel breaks the butterfly. Every tear, a waterfall.
In the night, the stormy night, she closed her eyes. In the night, the stormy night, away she flied.




martes, 13 de septiembre de 2011

Yoü and I.

It's been a long time since I came around, been a long time but I'm back in town. And this time I'm not leavin' without you.
You taste like whiskey when you kiss me awe, I'd give anything again to be your babydoll.
He said, sit back down where you belong in the corner of my bar with your high heels on. Sit back down on the couch where we made love the first time and you said to me: "There's somethin' about this place" Somethin' 'bout lonely nights and my lipstick on your face, somethin' about my cool Nebraska guy, yeah somethin' about baby you and I.
It's been two years since I let you go I couldn't listen to a joke or rock n' roll. And muscle cars drove a truck right through my heart. On my birthday you sang me "Heart of Gold" with a guitar hummin' and no clothes.
Baby, I'd rather die, without you and I. Come on put your drinks up!
We gotta whole lotta money but we still pay rent 'cause you can't buy a house in heaven. There's only three men that imma serve my whole life: It's my daddy, and Nebraska and Jesus Christ. There's somethin' about the chase (6 whole years).
I'm a New York woman born to run you down still want my lipstick all over your face. There's somethin' about just knowin' when it's right. So put your drinks up for Nebraska!
It's been a long time since I came around, been a long time but I'm back in town, and this time I'm not leaving without you.

viernes, 9 de septiembre de 2011

La memoria pincha hasta sangrar a los pueblos que la amarran y no la dejan andar libres como el viento.

No hay que olvidar. Nunca hay que olvidar. Hay que pelear para que el recuerdo siga con vida, para que no se apague. Por que recordar es lo único que nos hace darnos cuenta que seguimos vivos.
Por que olvidarse significa perder. Por que si nos olvidamos no somos nada. 


lunes, 5 de septiembre de 2011

Hurt

Seems like it was yesterday when I saw your face you told me how proud you were but I walked away, if only I knew what I know today.
I would hold you in my arms, I would take the pain away. Thank you for all you've done, forgive all your mistakes. There's nothing I wouldn't do to hear your voice again. Sometimes I want to call you but I know you won't be there.
I'm sorry for blaming you for everything I just couldn't do and I've hurt myself by hurting you.
Some days I feel broke inside but I won't admit. Sometimes I just want to hide 'cause it's you I miss. You know it's so hard to say goodbye when it comes to this.
Would you tell me I was wrong? Would you help me understand? Are you looking down upon me? Are you proud of who I am?
There's nothing I wouldn't do to have just one more chance to look into your eyes and see you looking back.
If I had just one more day, I would tell you how much that I've missed you since you've been away.
Oh, it's dangerous, it's so out of line to try to turn back time.
I'm sorry for blaming you for everything I just couldn't do and I've hurt myself by hurting you.

domingo, 4 de septiembre de 2011

Companions

If you be my star I'll be your sky. You can hide underneath me and come out at night when I turn jet black and you show off your light. I live to let you shine.
But you can skyrocket away from me and never come back if you find another galaxy far from here with more room to fly, just leave me your stardust to remember you by.
If you be my boat I'll be your sea, a depth of pure blue just to probe curiosity ebbing and flowing and pushed by a breeze. I live to make you free.
But you can set sail to the west if you want to and past the horizon 'till I can't even see you far from here where the beaches are wide, just leave me your wake to remember you by.





Si tu eres mi estrella, yo seré tu cielo. Podés esconderte debajo mio y salir a la noche cuando me transforme en negro azabache y presumas de tu luz. Vivo para dejarte brillar.
Pero podes irte en un cohete lejos de mi y nunca regresar si encontras otra galaxia lejos de aqui, con más lugar para volar. Sólo dejame tu polvo de estrellas para recordarte.
Si tu eres mi bote, yo seré tu mar. Una profundidar de puro azul sólo para probar la curiosidad, disipando y fluyendo empujados por una brisa. Vivo para hacerte libre.
Pero podes navegar al oeste si queres, más allá del horizonte hasta que no pueda ni siquiera verte desde aqui, donde las playas son amplias. Sólo dejame tu estela para recordarte.

viernes, 2 de septiembre de 2011

Civilización

Hay algo que está sonando, seguro que ya lo oías. La tierra está vibrando con distinta melodía. Ni dioses locos de furia, ni demonios vengativos, ni naves extraterrestres, ni algún cometa perdido.
La historia es mucho más clara y tiene también sentido. La tierra se está quitando de encima al peor enemigo.
Vienen los cuatros jinetes, cabalgando vienen digo. Agua, tierra, fuego y aire, vienen de tu propio ombligo.
Cosas de la civilización, que todo ya está montado, que millones de despidos. El camino es complicado quizá como nunca ha sido. Anoche soñé con Manu y esta melodía cantaba. Alguien encendía un asado, alguien de lejos llegaba.
Y si viene un río gris que separe al mundo en dos quisiera quedar del mismo lado nene que vos.
Un nuevo desierto, un nuevo granizo, saben quien lo hizo, anda por acá. Dios perdona, el hombre a veces, la naturaleza nunca, anda por acá.
No te olvides del mamut que no termino el Vermouth.