Useless blog: The English Resurrection

Play for today

2005-07-21T16:04:00.000-07:00

It's already a luck almost nobody knows this place. Because that'd be really embarrassing. BUT I usually hate streams of consciousness, or well, i just love them so much i don't feel worthy enough to abuse them, or. just. use them. That's all. Since if you don't actually know what your mind might puke, all you might obtain is a big, noisy, sly bullshit. And the worst is: none could teach how to do it, or when or why. Should come naturally out of the brain, without pain or any shock.

So i found myself playing the funniest game ever, dance dance revolution, i'm absolutely so far from being even decent at it, but i can't stop, i'm addicted.

And i found myself dancing alone in the living room while the tv played prodigy's smack my bitch up. And i found myself afraid when i discovered it might happen again.

I'm far from home, 600 kms. Scared by the next month. Scared sweaty pink cat. NOW. Normal people usually smell like hm...i don't know...like a bad lemon, when they're sweaty, but that doesn't work with me. I smell like milk. Which is even worse, possibly. You're free not to believe it, but huhu, i can't do much about that, after all.

And i passed my exams with 100/100. That was the total final score. So school's over forever. And i'm afraid i won't pass the admission test at university. The great failure, right?

I've.never.written.such.boring.stuff.

And i couldn't stop, terrible, horrible.

Dissappointed.

Up-down weekend

2005-04-05T21:17:00.000-07:00

As soon as Easter holidays ended and I came back to school, a terrible flu crashed on me, forcing me to spend two days in bed, with a temperature of 39°C. Simple case or necessity? Anyway, the high temperature didn't allow me to leave. My plans for the weekend totally vanished and I found myself shouting abuse at school, chief world systems, holidays, some suspicious elements and the world.
First of all, I convinced myself, being in a crisis of superstition, that someone damned me to prevent me from having a glad mood during the period which followed Easter. The most suspects were: A., some of my classmates, destiny. This last was soon rejected. Dying pope, new earthquake, war and tsunami victims...that was enough for "him", to worry about my "miserable" condition. Beyond, suddenly, I remembered that I don't believe in "him" and that it's not possible to call "him" just when my mind is hysteric or fairly neurotic. The only classmates of mine which knew about my post-Easter-projects were some individuals that had no reasons to wish me that little tragedy. Rejected even the second theory, there was A. She was definitely un-rejectable. BUT, when I analyzed possibilities that she could have damned me, I thought she doesn't have enough intelligence to be that telepathically powerful. Then I became sane, my mind was clear again, and I decided that the only realistic alternatives could be:

-Psychosomatic attack (I was back in school)

-Spring

Actually, during that last class, on that Wednesday, my throat started to burn, when I came back home, I said: "I feel a trouble in my throat". That evening, it was obstructed by tonsils and I wasn't able to swallow, nor complain, nor breathe through my mouth. That night I slept with semi-opened lips, and I dreamt of myself vomiting, one by one, all my inner organs. Sometimes I woke up, I drank and I went on saying something similar to "Mmmmhmmm,sss, mhh". On the following day, with a 39.8 temperature, I implored my mother not go to work and, rather, to take me to the bathroom. Once I learned all the tv program, from Gilmore Girls to the News, I started worrying about Maths.

And I was right doing that, since, my Maths teacher, decided to procrastinate his unluck lessons. That means: my gaps are becoming as big as oceans. In front of me there was the vision of that man, trying to explain, to 20 teen agers' tired brains, absolutely uncompleted notions. While he, rhythmically, had wild mood swings and fits of schizophrenia. Because his "odi&amo" for us, doesn't allow him to be objective about every human behaviour of us. So he alternates between a big sweetness and diabolic screams, to shout out loud our encyclopaedic ignorance. (It includes every kind of knowledge). After that mirage had gone away, I wisely chose to spend leftover time taking care of myself, wishing I had spent the weekend in the best way possible and filling myself with antibiotic. Antibiotic caused red itching stains all over, so right now I'm trying not to scratch myself. But I can listen to the Adicts, at least.

Apology. End of a genius

2005-01-12T11:09:00.000-08:00

<Elliot: Of course I'm holding back, I'm insane you idiot. Remember the other day when you told me I had pit-stains, well I have cried every fifteen minutes on the half-hour since you told me that. I am racked with self-doubt, I have panic attacks, I'm claustrophobic, germ-phobic, phobia-phobic. I talk to myself, I talk to my cats, I talk to three separate shrinks about the fact that often my cats respond to me in my mother's voice and, yesterday, when that stupid, pretty surgical nurse handed you a pair of latex gloves I almost killed the guy who's leg I was stitching up because I couldn't stop thinking about the two of you having sex on a box of steaks. Why a box of steaks? 'Cos my Dad had an affair with a female butcher and, as I mentioned before, I am insane. There, I opened up, are you happy?>>

Do you usually watch Scrubs? Scrubs is making me worry. First of all, I listen to its soundtrack, because it reminds me of some scenes. Even if every song is very far from being appreciated by me. Trash pop and indie rock, for the most part. I'm following Doc. Fox's model for my non-teen ager-future-life. He's sarcastic, ironic, irreverent. All great characteristics. I don't watch tv, because it's boring and I hate boredom, though I'm learning to live with it, lately. Boredom makes me feel bad, my body rebels to it. But Scrubs is something different. Besides, for some reasons, it makes me think of Lord. He who is. Woody Allen. I would like to ask him some brief questions:
1) Why did you disappoint your disciple, who was waiting for your new movie, that way?
2) What were you thinking about when you chose such a horrible cast?
3) Why did you get older? Is Annie Halls still alive, some where, in your memories?

Melinda&Melinda was so disappointing. There were only a few nice gags.
Invasion of indie rockers, then Andy Warhol's exhibition, that was terrible. I mean, those pics were a shapless huddle. Mr. multimillionaire manager of the gallery made a job that, probably, a 3 years old drugged child would have done in a more coherent way. Works were excellent, but the way they were positioned...gave me hallucinations and headache. At least my dressing was right for the situation. Everything was so fuchsia, just like my skirt and stockings. Well, I must say that at the end, I was so emotioned that I started raving, comparing Mr Allen to Warhol with these words: "Andy is Woody's artistic personification, without any doubt". Then, inner monologues and obsessive polemics fought in my brain, until the collapse of it and everything became a beautiful memory. Just like now. Associating all the things I like, until I create a collage, isn't ok. Let's be honest. But I do it, to make everything easier. I could say I figure out Charlie Brown with a pair of squared glasses, taking a picture of Marilyn Monroe, shouting to the wind: "You know, the only way you could be more useless right now is if you actually were the wall". Listening to some Siouxsie and The Banshees's music.

Happy new year.

Some simple rules

2004-12-10T13:14:00.000-08:00

Try to be honest, you all know there are some priorities you couldn't live without, for any reason. For instance: to taste the wonderful pleasure of taking your moments of anomalous frustration out on someone else.

About that: I'll make a list, so that whoever keeps in touch with me, being in a condition such he/she can, easily, be defined like a "semi-permanently person with a sudden menstrual syndrome", knows what, absolutely, not to do:

1) Stay away from me, if you're supposed to answer with strong and uninterested affermations to anything could be asked you, just because your cute kittie pissed on your new shoes.

2) In the case you argued with a relative/friend/your dog/your teacher/your boss/or personal trainer, remember that I DID NOT argue with you, someone else did it. Ok? So, that's not me you've to reply to, aggressively. Almost like I'm a suppliant or tormentor, together.

3) Be brave, I know what you're expected to receive from other people (we're talking about me, so from me), just because something went wrong, you would like some "sorry". Well, I won't sustain any imposition and then I won't try to convince you of something with a false smile, teasing you all the time. On the other hand: I will ignore you.

4) Everybody know: when someone is in a bad mood, the first person he/she tries to take everything out on, is, probably, the one who treated him/her in the best way possible during the last 24 hours. That's teenager's/parent's bill, things go that way.

5) Don't act like you're hurt (and, accordingly, read to get in a even badder mood) if the person you approached to with a "Fuck you, in the way you prefer and you like the best" (or synonyms), will, then, totally ignore you. What would you expect, instead?

6) Don't act like nothing happened, the day after, that is when you get quiet and calm, because, I swear, I'll make you gulp down your tongue.

Wise childish words

2004-12-02T13:57:00.000-08:00

While I was going to school, today, like every morning, to learn something not new and often not interesting, I found myself listening to a conversation between a father and a son. The son was about 7 years old and he was saying these words: "When I go to middle school I'll wish I was at primary school, when I go to high school I'll wish I was at middle school...". And his father, trying to convince him, answered not much persuaded: "No, what are you saying? You won't wish anything, everything comes with time". But his son, resigned, replied: "No dad, I'll wish everything, it must be so".

That child reminded me of myself being 7 years old, everybody pretend to be introvert during their childhood, or, at least, I noticed that everybody like to think of themselves as introvert children. I wasn't it at all. That is: I was introvert just with who was the same age as me. I never used to talk with them. I was a "social secluded", victim of teasings, specially because I didn't use to dress skirts, that was a reason of contempt from my classmates, they already thought about hypocrisy. So I spent the most part of my time with my father and my brother, learning about Bruce Lee, Sylvester Stallone and weird red haired monsters, always present in my worst nightmares...

Until the 4th year of my life: the 4th year of my life was characterized by the presence of a friend of my sister.

I spent endless afternoons at her place. First of all: I don't know how come she didn't kill me during that whole period. I wasn't introvert with people older than me, I exactly was the classic conceited subject, I mean, my standard speech was: "And what do you think it'll happen to me when I am 19 and I go to university, choosing a faculty like engineering or medicine and nobody will treat me well, just because I'm a girl?". Every try to answer was useless, I was ready to reply.

That child reminded me of myself, I hope there's some "thinking being" who's the same age as him, to entrust him/her this world, because I can't bear the idea that 18 years older busy with their coffee addiction, could have something to teach me.