tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-92142622024-03-07T13:52:24.088-05:00la fiebrE y la tortugA... when the hare got to the bridge, the turtle had just crossed the finish line and all the animals were singing "for he's a jolly good fellow"... the hare took a gun and kept shooting figuring out what he'll do after emptying the magazine into the damn turtle...Dr. Jorgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01913211605267855500noreply@blogger.comBlogger199125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9214262.post-52205536134628660962010-03-13T23:23:00.006-05:002010-03-23T09:50:13.638-05:00menuthis time i am fighting it, i am not letting myself follow that train of thoughts back to you. otherwise, it would end like it always does, and that is precisely letting myself follow that train of thoughts back to you. of course, after a yet one more ride on a roller coaster..- what's gonna be for you today, sir?- hmm... not pancakes, not scramble eggs..- so?- hold on, one second.. i'll just Dr. Jorgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01913211605267855500noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9214262.post-53629165817250368822009-12-15T09:07:00.002-05:002010-03-22T18:46:37.386-05:00laptoplessDr. Jorgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01913211605267855500noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9214262.post-9789233133308809512009-09-15T06:43:00.012-05:002022-11-29T11:16:04.136-05:00the incident iiIt has been a couple of weeks since the last time I wrote something on this brand new Hewlett-Packard that will soon be sold. My doctor, who I see every week at least once, was not happy about it, although she told me she would not force me to do anything. I have been busy doing nothing. I still choose WAL-MART over a full night's sleep, I still choose drinking and smoking with my father over Dr. Jorgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01913211605267855500noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9214262.post-14444352950436753682009-08-22T12:25:00.011-05:002010-03-22T18:46:37.386-05:00the incident iThe doctor asked me to write about it. It could be helpful, she said. The truth is, before the incident, I used to write. I used to be a fine writer, or so I was told by many people. I have tried to read my old writings, but it has not been helpful. I do not recognize them. I am sure there was a purpose behind them, I just do not know those anymore. Sometimes, when I read my writings, I cry, but Dr. Jorgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01913211605267855500noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9214262.post-59474656136645863232008-11-02T12:49:00.004-05:002010-03-22T18:46:37.387-05:00homeAnd then, one morning, after a quiet night's sleep, you realize there are just two kinds of travelers.There are those who depart, and there are those who return.The former wander around maps, the latter look for themselves in the mirror.And then, one morning, after a quiet night's sleep, you realize life is a journey.And you need to figure out what is that you have in front of your eyes.Mirrors Dr. Jorgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01913211605267855500noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9214262.post-67421631344525616412008-10-28T13:03:00.009-05:002010-03-22T18:46:37.387-05:00layersShe walks to the left, restless. Looks down, worried. Sighs. Looks up, hopeful. Walks to the right, eager. "I don't know," she says.He stays still. "What is it?""Oh, you know..." She kicks the floor with her left foot.He does know."Don't look at me," she rubs her hands together.They listen to the loud silence. The walls of the living room fade. They feel uncomfortably comfortable. They have been Dr. Jorgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01913211605267855500noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9214262.post-48145364813110364712008-08-13T14:20:00.009-05:002010-11-14T10:39:03.056-05:00cinekluba rafael
Alguien me dijo en una ocasión que de personas había de tres tipos, los que no lo hacen nunca, los que lo hacen sólo una vez, y el resto.
"¿Qué hay de los que nunca se lo plantean?" Dije yo.
Cuando la conocí escondía su cabello, entonces pelirrojo, bajo una boina de lana morada. Vestía una camisa marrón a juego con su manera de mirarme y unos pantalones tejanos negros rotos por las Dr. Jorgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01913211605267855500noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9214262.post-35609350059273738582008-07-21T16:12:00.004-05:002010-03-22T18:46:37.388-05:00Wedding Ring"I know you don't believe me. I know you think I'm joking.""Do I?""You'll probably be married by then, but when I finish, before shaving, cutting my hair, or even getting a shower, I will ride to your door and ask you to marry me."Silence."I know it'll be too late, but some things just have to be done.""You're silly.""I know."Dr. Jorgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01913211605267855500noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9214262.post-47605646574470934852008-07-11T14:05:00.015-05:002010-03-22T18:46:37.388-05:00my life after you"Here, happy birthday," she gave him a handmade book."My life before you," he whispered the title.She had been working on the book for the past five years. Among its pages, polaroid pictures of random useless things, pictures of a younger version of herself surrounded by younger versions of family and friends, love letters never sent, pink, green, red, blue, and black journal entries, drawings, Dr. Jorgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01913211605267855500noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9214262.post-57812993321441289272008-07-01T00:40:00.003-05:002010-03-22T18:46:37.389-05:00painlessThe ambulance driver drove as fast as he could through the still busy streets, even though it was already late. When they finally arrived to the packed emergency room he was covered in love and still bleeding despite of the effort of the paramedics. He was bleeding love all over. The doctors could not help him. He urgently needed a transfusion but his love type was unique. They could just helped Dr. Jorgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01913211605267855500noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9214262.post-30730250525304881532008-06-23T17:46:00.007-05:002008-06-23T20:32:30.727-05:00no te aguantono aguanto tus manos,tus pies,no aguanto tus ojos,tus labios,no aguanto tu sonrisa,no aguanto tu presencia,no aguanto que te escondas,que ahora estés,que ahora no,no aguanto tus runrunes,tus silencios,no aguanto tus abrazos,tus besos,no aguanto tus promesas,no aguanto tus parasiempres,tus nuncas,tus quizases,no aguanto que me hagas esperar,no aguanto que me mires,no aguanto que me digas que me Dr. Jorgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01913211605267855500noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9214262.post-40815198183795693152008-06-22T11:12:00.000-05:002008-06-24T06:11:35.007-05:00twelve point five milesyou space outyou get in the wateryou wait for the deafening sirenyou wonderwhat will i be thinking about for over six hours?you start swimmingyou swim under the scorching sunyou keep swimmingyour shoulder hurtsyour head hurtsyour eyes hurtyou keep swimmingyou finishyou try to rememberwhat was i thinking about over six hours?it is easy to lie to myself, to live a different life in my mind. it is Dr. Jorgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01913211605267855500noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9214262.post-26372616306929686872008-06-16T00:10:00.005-05:002008-06-24T06:11:35.009-05:00sometimessometimesit is easysometimesit is notbut sometimes bleedsand becomes neverand it is out of neverthat always bloomsDr. Jorgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01913211605267855500noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9214262.post-9606491226038085082008-06-12T12:39:00.005-05:002008-06-24T06:11:35.010-05:00how to sleepI cut open a cuddly teddy bear with a sharp scalpel and substitute the light stuffing by tiny lead balls you can get at any ironmonger's. I sew it back with care, a needle, a thimble, and thread. All I need to do now is get ready for bed and lay down upwards in a bed with the once light, now heavy cuddly teddy bear on top of my chest. It is not your weight I feel anymore, but it works as soon as Dr. Jorgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01913211605267855500noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9214262.post-55233101694454174142008-06-08T08:56:00.002-05:002008-06-24T06:11:35.012-05:00unexpectations"I love you.""I love you too.""There's something I have to tell you.""You are married, aren't you?" Smiling. "Just kidding!""Well," he looked down before looking up again. "I am.""What!?""It's not what it seems.""You better have a good explanation for this one!""I am married to another man.""What!?""Are you gay? Who is this man?""No. I needed to stay here so I got married to him two years ago to Dr. Jorgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01913211605267855500noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9214262.post-22285270614647801152008-06-05T12:31:00.011-05:002008-06-24T06:11:35.013-05:00slow motionI open my eyes after a long night of sleep remembering when I was not able to dive into Morpheo's realm. Sleepless nights with her but without her. She is no longer here. She never really was. I probably should stop letting them in at night, the flying pink elephants. There are always collateral damages. Always. Black sheets, red pillowcases. I am naked and in need of a shower. She used to Dr. Jorgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01913211605267855500noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9214262.post-90655443526551405692008-06-03T17:00:00.005-05:002008-06-24T06:11:35.014-05:00the backpackI needed some cash for my monthly deal. I love those pink elephants flying around my tiny colorful apartment. It was late but I got in my bike and rode to University Avenue. I do not usually step out of my bike when I am in front of an ATM. Debit card. Secret number. Withdrawal. Fifty dollars."Hello.""Hello?"He looked sketchy."Don't worry. I just want to ask you something.""Sorry?""I just want toDr. Jorgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01913211605267855500noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9214262.post-53151502153014555992008-06-02T03:05:00.000-05:002008-06-24T06:11:35.015-05:00shining tiny eyesHe always liked when he could not tell if she had her shining tiny eyes open or not.His lips whispered something only an inch away from her lips."Look me in the eyes," silence. "Actually... do not... it is impossible to look me in the eyes... you will always be choosing one... just one..."They stayed on the edge of a delicious uncertain abyss for an everlasting instant.They enjoyed a white Dr. Jorgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01913211605267855500noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9214262.post-8543762364528915652008-06-01T08:40:00.000-05:002008-06-01T08:14:16.129-05:00Words- I need you to give me some space, to step out of the picture.He nodded. He stared at her. Silent smile. "What do I do when your words ask me something but your eyes ask me the opposite?"In any case, it might only be in his mind... Sandcastles and hope...Dr. Jorgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01913211605267855500noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9214262.post-51993008727721600442008-05-28T04:21:00.003-05:002009-09-14T18:08:34.368-05:00WhipsSomething is wrong when you wake up with a hungover as a consequence of the embrace of a lonely night in your porch.Something is wrong when you have breakfast in the same bowl over and over again even if it does not belong to the one you thought.Something is wrong when you sit alone in a dark theater on a Saturday morning surrounded by parents and children to enjoy the adventures of one of the Dr. Jorgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01913211605267855500noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9214262.post-18892371978364253122008-05-26T03:09:00.001-05:002008-05-26T11:35:00.792-05:00(9)(12)(21) and halvesI woke up in the nude in the middle of the night. My body was covered in sweat. He was there, my other half, naked, sat in the white leather armchair, staring at me. We both knew what was going to happen. We walked together to the bridge. We did not say anything. My feet were hurting, bleeding by the time we got there. I looked at him. He looked at me. I dived into him. He dived into me. I cried.Dr. Jorgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01913211605267855500noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9214262.post-31181033815813666922008-05-25T07:53:00.004-05:002008-05-25T15:02:33.206-05:00Magnetics FieldsHe walked her to her car after an everlasting evening that none of them wanted to end. He kissed her goodbye. She got in the car and started it. She could not leave. The window was open. He kissed her goodbye. He knelt down. He kissed her goodbye. Both knew that had to stop. She needed it to stop. He understood but was not ready to let it happen. Neither she was. She stepped out of the car. TheyDr. Jorgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01913211605267855500noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9214262.post-54245556708168265322008-05-24T00:00:00.000-05:002008-05-24T00:00:01.165-05:00nows- how do you know?- i do, as i know the sun will shine tomorrow- but how do you know it won't change?- i do, it will shine, even if the clouds don't allow us to enjoy its caresses- i can see that's how you feel now, but i'm not so sure about tomorrow- i used to feel that same way- so?- not anymore- why?- it's just a part of me now, as it is your chin- don't be silly- that's another thing i'll Dr. Jorgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01913211605267855500noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9214262.post-48484624427967264442008-05-23T12:25:00.011-05:002008-05-23T15:56:47.616-05:00WoundsAnd thus my knee was broken.It hurt. I could not remember anything as painful. I could not imagine anything as painful. I cried. It was not only the pain. It was the uncertainty. The uncertainty, above all. I knew right away it was not just another injury. I was certain.The surgery went well, they told me. It is a matter of time. I was on a hard cast for a few everlasting months. It was tedious, Dr. Jorgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01913211605267855500noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9214262.post-37272177524019303192008-05-21T09:09:00.007-05:002008-05-21T10:30:55.646-05:00what ifwhat if the white is black?and the black is white? what if there is no gray for us?what if our eyes give awaythe smile we try to hide? what if we fight back?what if we listen to the everlasting silence?what if it is so loud that we can see it?what if we drown in the smoke from the burning cloves?what if a fractal is caressing us? what if we flow?what if feeing led us Dr. Jorgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01913211605267855500noreply@blogger.com1