tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-92142622011-12-22T21:36:51.430-05:00... 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...:jorGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01913211605267855500noreply@blogger.comBlogger2011100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9214262.post-52205536134628660962010-03-13T23:23:00.006-05:002010-03-23T09:50:13.638-05:00

this 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

:jorGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01913211605267855500noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9214262.post-53629165817250368822009-12-15T09:07:00.002-05:002010-03-22T18:46:37.386-05:00

:jorGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01913211605267855500noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9214262.post-9789233133308809512009-09-15T06:43:00.011-05:002010-11-14T10:25:17.286-05:00

It 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

:jorGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01913211605267855500noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9214262.post-14444352950436753682009-08-22T12:25:00.011-05:002010-03-22T18:46:37.386-05:00

The 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

:jorGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01913211605267855500noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9214262.post-59474656136645863232008-11-02T12:49:00.004-05:002010-03-22T18:46:37.387-05:00

And 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

:jorGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01913211605267855500noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9214262.post-67421631344525616412008-10-28T13:03:00.009-05:002010-03-22T18:46:37.387-05:00

She 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

:jorGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01913211605267855500noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9214262.post-48145364813110364712008-08-13T14:20:00.009-05:002010-11-14T10:39:03.056-05:00

a 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

:jorGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01913211605267855500noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9214262.post-35609350059273738582008-07-21T16:12:00.004-05:002010-03-22T18:46:37.388-05:00

"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."

:jorGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01913211605267855500noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9214262.post-47605646574470934852008-07-11T14:05:00.015-05:002010-03-22T18:46:37.388-05:00

"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,

:jorGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01913211605267855500noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9214262.post-57812993321441289272008-07-01T00:40:00.003-05:002010-03-22T18:46:37.389-05:00

The 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

:jorGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01913211605267855500noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9214262.post-30730250525304881532008-06-23T17:46:00.007-05:002008-06-23T20:32:30.727-05:00

no 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

:jorGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01913211605267855500noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9214262.post-40815198183795693152008-06-22T11:12:00.000-05:002008-06-24T06:11:35.007-05:00

you 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

:jorGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01913211605267855500noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9214262.post-26372616306929686872008-06-16T00:10:00.005-05:002008-06-24T06:11:35.009-05:00

sometimesit is easysometimesit is notbut sometimes bleedsand becomes neverand it is out of neverthat always blooms

:jorGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01913211605267855500noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9214262.post-9606491226038085082008-06-12T12:39:00.005-05:002008-06-24T06:11:35.010-05:00

I 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

:jorGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01913211605267855500noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9214262.post-55233101694454174142008-06-08T08:56:00.002-05:002008-06-24T06:11:35.012-05:00

"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

:jorGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01913211605267855500noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9214262.post-22285270614647801152008-06-05T12:31:00.011-05:002008-06-24T06:11:35.013-05:00

I 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

:jorGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01913211605267855500noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9214262.post-90655443526551405692008-06-03T17:00:00.005-05:002008-06-24T06:11:35.014-05:00

I 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 to

:jorGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01913211605267855500noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9214262.post-53151502153014555992008-06-02T03:05:00.000-05:002008-06-24T06:11:35.015-05:00

He 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

:jorGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01913211605267855500noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9214262.post-8543762364528915652008-06-01T08:40:00.000-05:002008-06-01T08:14:16.129-05:00

- 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...

:jorGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01913211605267855500noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9214262.post-51993008727721600442008-05-28T04:21:00.003-05:002009-09-14T18:08:34.368-05:00

Something 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

:jorGhttp://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

I 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.

:jorGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01913211605267855500noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9214262.post-31181033815813666922008-05-25T07:53:00.004-05:002008-05-25T15:02:33.206-05:00

He 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. They

:jorGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01913211605267855500noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9214262.post-54245556708168265322008-05-24T00:00:00.000-05:002008-05-24T00:00:01.165-05:00

- 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

:jorGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01913211605267855500noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9214262.post-48484624427967264442008-05-23T12:25:00.011-05:002008-05-23T15:56:47.616-05:00

And 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,

:jorGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01913211605267855500noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9214262.post-37272177524019303192008-05-21T09:09:00.007-05:002008-05-21T10:30:55.646-05:00

what 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

:jorGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01913211605267855500noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9214262.post-16661457325383620662008-05-19T23:42:00.009-05:002008-05-21T10:18:31.183-05:00

사랑해요enough!and she drove back home,and he rode back home,some goodbyes are meant to last,some goodbyes are meant to be a part of us,they would see each other again,but the full moon would never shine like tonight...tonight it burns,more than the sun.

:jorGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01913211605267855500noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9214262.post-11372199599466847442008-05-18T07:07:00.000-05:002008-05-19T23:54:07.926-05:00

보고 싶어요Naked, in front of the mirror, he feels naked for the first time.Yesterday he willingly undressed his self in front of her, beautiful her, without agenda, with hope. His heart did the talking. No more manufactured words. He felt like a cliff diver falling free. And then, then the fresh water. The fresh water and the sparkling liberation.His reflection in the mirror. He is selfish but

:jorGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01913211605267855500noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9214262.post-30180881755493637292008-05-13T18:52:00.008-05:002008-05-18T17:04:19.515-05:00

- I can't. I want to. But there's something still missing...He grabbed her hand and walked her to her car and drove her to a cell phone store nearby.- I want a cell phone that can only get and make calls to her number.The shop assistant handed a cellphone to him. He dialed her number while looking for the shine on her eyes. There it was, only to go away. She run away.Alone, he felt empty. He was

:jorGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01913211605267855500noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9214262.post-14509421778729853862008-04-28T19:26:00.013-05:002008-05-11T14:44:01.329-05:00

Once upon a time there was a white leather armchair in one corner of a living room of a small student apartment, where Mr. and Mrs. Román spent their time each day before and after school.One night he happened to end sat in the white leather armchair after letting his being interact with pink elephants. On board of an empty and transparent Air India Boeing 777, together with the captain and Mr.

:jorGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01913211605267855500noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9214262.post-85507849657673201942008-04-24T08:54:00.011-05:002008-05-11T14:44:01.329-05:00

- It was what you wrote...Her words crossed her heart like two hundred and thirty seven pins. Heart beat. Bloody geysers. Then the flood. Diving in a red that fades to find himself surrounded by all those things he thought he knew. He did not. He did now.All those written words arose from within. Some of them from his heart. Some of them not. He had been using himself to fight his fear. His fear

:jorGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01913211605267855500noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9214262.post-84587311672785829712008-04-20T17:30:00.009-05:002008-05-11T14:44:01.330-05:00

They had not looked at each other for over a year. They had seen each other, though. Unfortunately seeing hurts. Time shapes feelings. It does not sweep them away.He woke up early and everything he did was waiting for her. Had a long lasting shower. Listened to the game on the radio. Read a traveling magazine. Random useless things.She missed her turn the first time she went by."Hello," she

:jorGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01913211605267855500noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9214262.post-1165365019821493312008-04-19T08:08:00.004-05:002008-05-11T14:44:01.330-05:00

1. Hace un sinfín de veranos, junto a un primo cada vez más lejano y un amigo que ya no lo es tanto, por no decir nada, nos dedicamos a explotar un número indeterminado de petardos en las bocas de un número indeterminado de sapos que estallaron en un número indeterminado de pedazos.2. Nunca fue nuestra intención pero, junto a dos amigos, consideramos la opción de, por las molestias, asignarnos un

:jorGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01913211605267855500noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9214262.post-3406864920736724872008-04-16T14:14:00.011-05:002008-12-24T03:42:19.833-05:00

“Yo no voy a tomar esta decisión por ti,” concluyó Ramón. “No, porque carezco de toda la información.”Yo asentí.“¿Qué te ha pasado?”Bajé la cabeza primero y le miré a los ojos después.“Vete de vacaciones. Piensa en qué te ha pasado y sólo entonces podré tomar una decisión por ti,” silencio. “Si tú no lo haces antes.”Ambos sonrieron.“Gracias,” me levanté. “Gracias.”Caminamos juntos hacia su

:jorGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01913211605267855500noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9214262.post-92146460126816743482008-04-08T18:35:00.039-05:002009-10-18T14:34:40.202-05:00

to imsahone day you realizeforevers are not foreverand only then you fallfor all those forevers you hadand only then you fallfor all those forevers you awaitmaybe onemaybe moremaybe noneone day you realizeyou are perishableand although neverendinginfinity hides a notchdeep in your heartonly then your eyes smile backagainas they did at dawnand your soul dancesto the music of colorswater your

:jorGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01913211605267855500noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9214262.post-86013696679787423492008-04-06T19:53:00.001-05:002008-05-08T17:40:58.655-05:00

So he remembered. It had to be a day like today. The Moon will not shine tonight. The Moon will not draw the shape of the bear. Without Moon, there is no bear. There is just darkness.But then again, a New Moon is just an early announcement of yet another Full Moon, and so on...Meanwhile, the bear, will no longer be...

:jorGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01913211605267855500noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9214262.post-19867648153043176432008-04-05T14:01:00.002-05:002008-05-11T14:44:01.330-05:00

Someone told me once that allofasuddens did not exist.- I'm stopping here.- Are you? We're almost there.- I can't. I'm stopping here.- But once we're there it'll be easier.- You go! I can't. It's hurting too much. You have my support.- But, I don't know if I wanna go by myself, alone.- Of course you do! Otherwise you've been wrong all this time. Within, you should find your motivation. The real

:jorGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01913211605267855500noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9214262.post-51193560015891898522008-03-28T09:23:00.000-05:002008-05-08T17:40:58.656-05:00

The last one to make it in is usually a kid. Bright eyes surrounded by dirt. I close the door after him. Sometimes right after switching off the lights, before I open the valves, I think about them. They do not know. I do. Am I a monster? Somebody else would close the door. Somebody else would switch off the lights. Somebody else would open the valves. I have a wife. I have a son and a daughter.

:jorGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01913211605267855500noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9214262.post-52655272199219843612008-03-16T17:02:00.005-05:002010-03-23T10:11:28.982-05:00

It started as a tiny lie. Not even that. It was not even a lie. It was a hidden truth. But that was a while ago. Little by little the tiny lie became more and more. Snowball effect they call it. It was too late now to undo what he had done. That is what he thought. Too late to tell her. He was not ready to take her reaction. He did not want that responsibility. The feeling would kill him. He

:jorGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01913211605267855500noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9214262.post-27829694282584231002008-02-28T17:55:00.004-05:002010-11-15T00:44:49.261-05:00

Hacía tiempo que no se iba de vacaciones. Recordaba con nostalgia tiempos pasados en los que había recorrido el mundo a bordo de un espíritu humanitario que ahora vivía ensimismado. ¿Por qué New York City? Ni él mismo lo sabía. Tenía buenos recuerdos de la ciudad. Dos veces se había perdido ya en ella. Una solo, la otra acompañado. Recuerdos agridulces mientras pisaba la quinta avenida por

:jorGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01913211605267855500noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9214262.post-54326350557357294022008-02-26T09:35:00.006-05:002011-07-15T16:39:18.161-05:00

Primero debe uno sentarse delante de un espejo. Es mucho mejor sentarse, sobre todo si es la primera vez que uno lo intenta. Es difícil mantenerse de pie si uno no tiene práctica. A partir de aquí la idea es sencilla. Primero contempla tu imagen en el espejo para inmediatamente después cruzar tus ojos en busca de tu nariz. Mantén esa posición hasta que deje de ser incómoda. Deberías todavía ser

:jorGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01913211605267855500noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9214262.post-91032706425206339692008-02-20T18:37:00.003-05:002008-05-08T17:40:58.657-05:00

to dr. plim"Where are you?""Nowhere, really, don't worry about it, it doesn't really matter, does it? What about you? Where are you?""I'm now here. That I know."

:jorGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01913211605267855500noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9214262.post-39782990059260219432008-02-16T22:28:00.005-05:002008-05-11T14:44:01.331-05:00

Respiraba agitado.Su vida huía zigzagueando a través de una heterogénea pulsera pasión.El teléfono comenzó a sonar.Tumbado boca abajo se dejó seducir por el omnipresente reclamo."Sé que estás ahí..."El tic tac de un pretérito reloj de pared."Coge el teléfono..."El incesante zumbido de un frigorífico vacío."Lo siento..."Una espita que llora gotas insípidas.Se levantó del frío suelo y caminó hasta

:jorGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01913211605267855500noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9214262.post-60663630798624186182008-02-15T20:13:00.001-05:002008-02-15T13:55:16.953-05:00

continuationThere he was. A seven miles bridge ahead. Riding above the calm water, below an infinite blue sky scattered with inspiring clouds. Blues everywhere. It was worth the ride.A couple of hours, and two flat tires, later he finally arrived to Key West. Once there he did not know what to do. He had been there before twice. He checked in a motel and went for a walk along Duval Street. He had

:jorGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01913211605267855500noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9214262.post-85564865793646281932008-02-11T19:37:00.003-05:002008-03-11T22:49:06.848-05:00

continuationHe crossed over to the keys early in the morning. From then on he would be surrounded by water. The ride from there would be easier. He was sad the end was close. He really was. He did not want to go back. Back to his office, where he used to face his computer and a wall full of memories from the past. Memories that he liked to collect. Pictures, cinema tickets, postcards, post-its,

:jorGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01913211605267855500noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9214262.post-45171055465786737482008-02-10T20:46:00.000-05:002008-02-11T15:55:57.598-05:00

Silence is what they hear when they are ready to listen.Enveloping silence."What are you thinking about?"Patient silence.Only then the tightrope becomes wet grass they step on barefoot and get goose pimples.Silence, and hugs that hide from the future.Silence and hopes, rather than expectations.Silence blinded by the sun.Silence they feel comfortable riding.Loud silence."What did you say?""Nothing

:jorGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01913211605267855500noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9214262.post-81363215357158961312008-02-09T14:15:00.000-05:002008-02-09T14:26:44.585-05:00

- Llegas tarde.- Lo sé, ¿acaso me esperabas?- Lo cierto es que ya no, nunca lo hice, de hecho.- ¿Entonces?- ¿Entonces qué?- ¿Cómo sabes que llego tarde?- Gracias.- Gracias a ti, por esperarme aun sin saber que venía.

:jorGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01913211605267855500noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9214262.post-60107171045401587422008-02-08T18:31:00.000-05:002008-02-08T19:24:31.975-05:00

Me gustan las despedidas.Sobre todo cuando anhelan.Futuros reencuentros, inciertos.Yo no voy.Yo no vengo.Yo, ni siquiera estoy.Yo oscilo, sin entender del tiempo.Te espero en el paraíso de mi demencia.Ese en el que yo no soy.Pero tú sigues siendo.

:jorGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01913211605267855500noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9214262.post-28646698889701444912008-02-07T08:38:00.000-05:002008-02-07T08:47:45.250-05:00

- El trabajo dignifica al hombre...- Bien, en ese caso, aquí tienes una lista con mis deberes. ¡Toda tuya! Por supuesto, te regalo con ella mi dignidad, o la dignidad que le quieras asociar...- Pero...- No te preocupes, yo mientras tanto, me dedicaré a la vida contemplative, que no dignifica, ¡pero sienta de bien!

:jorGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01913211605267855500noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9214262.post-37186876927198775322008-02-04T09:57:00.000-05:002008-02-05T17:43:19.914-05:00

continuationHe stopped at a red light. On his left there was a yellow Lamborghini Diablo, and behind it an also yellow Porsche 911 Carrera. They probably were fans of Tweety. He gave the Lamborghini's driver a fake defiant look. The driver arrogantly smiled back at him while putting his foot on the accelerator. The music was beautiful. The light turned green. He sprinted for four hundred and

:jorGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01913211605267855500noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9214262.post-5810280291161978252008-02-01T18:24:00.000-05:002008-02-01T18:25:56.168-05:00

quizás me engaño...quizás mi compromiso delata tan sólo el cariño...quizás sean los pingüinos en la cama...el cariño por una erudición que me hacía sonreir...pero ya no...y en una ocasión alguien...alguien que me respira...me dijo que no se me daba bien hablar...que lo mío era escribir...y por eso escribo...y no digo...y quizás disfrace mis partituras...disfrazo la angustia de melancolía...la

:jorGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01913211605267855500noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9214262.post-10374047092265064062008-01-30T07:49:00.004-05:002008-05-11T14:44:01.332-05:00

He slowly wakes up. Somewhere the sun is setting. The evening light drags itself through the blinds before dying. He walks to the bathroom zigzagging about. The cold water kills his laziness. Once showered, he dresses in a dark green apron and starts cooking. Exotic fruit salad. Vegetarian lasagna. Crêpes. Colors. Smells. He sets a lonely table. An aromatic candle. A bottle of exquisite red wine.

:jorGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01913211605267855500noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9214262.post-51743345410149758862008-01-29T18:00:00.000-05:002008-01-31T23:35:42.027-05:00

When they went back to the car, it was covered in bird pooh."So, are you already enjoying your new environment?""Yes! Little by little," she looked down and then up again. "Definitely more than your car... I'm going back again this weekend.""Again? You know what?" he started looking around, keeping intermittent eye contact with her. "When I moved to this country there were still many attachments

:jorGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01913211605267855500noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9214262.post-31953090347138017712008-01-23T09:01:00.000-05:002008-01-29T19:06:52.914-05:00

Puring with rain. The old engine stopped in a steep hill by his house. It was pitch dark.- Are you ready to die?- What do you mean?- Are you ready? I'm serious...- What are you talking about? Are you gonna kill me? Is that it?- I never thought I would turn thirty... And I'm now six months away from it...- Never? Come on, kids always think they'll never die...- Kids, not me...- What about you? Are

:jorGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01913211605267855500noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9214262.post-20865918751904677782008-01-21T22:17:00.000-05:002008-02-01T06:51:44.756-05:00

continuationHe woke up early, took a quick shower and walked his bike to Super Walmart. He locked it outside and went in to exchange a tire he had bought the previous evening hoping it would fit. He already knew then it wouldn't, but still bought it. He had done it may times before. Do something he knew it was wrong. Something he knew he would have to undo. Was he so insecure?He decided to ride

:jorGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01913211605267855500noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9214262.post-19738190722541160922008-01-20T08:57:00.000-05:002008-01-20T09:06:40.964-05:00

Doing nothing. Sitting in a bench watching the hours pass by. In a lonely park. Everlasting silence before...- You!- What?- If you had to choose, what would you choose? Having sex with a man or with a dead woman?- What!?- A man or a dead woman?- What kind of question is that one!?- Come on, answer...- I'm not gonna answer to that...- You have to... Imagine that if you don't answer they'll kill

:jorGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01913211605267855500noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9214262.post-78789343376740822392008-01-18T13:32:00.000-05:002008-01-22T08:23:33.788-05:00

continuationHe woke up when it was still dark. Had some breakfast and got ready for the ride. He ate everyday the same. Chocolate milk, cereals, fruit, and peanuts for breakfast. Four Clif bars during the ride. Potato salad, fruit, and yogurt for dinner. That kept him always physically able to ride. There was always a store close enough. He finally had the chance to check if Gatorade is better

:jorGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01913211605267855500noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9214262.post-66559987899521049932008-01-17T16:20:00.000-05:002008-01-18T00:01:28.201-05:00

continuationHe had an early start. Thought about quitting already, but decided to keep riding south. He would be resting at the Highlands Hammock State Park eighty something miles later. The day was beautiful, so were the Highlands County roads. He enjoyed riding along a smooth flow of vehicles. Wide and clean shoulders. Scattered wealthy communities of mostly retired people. Fields splashed with

:jorGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01913211605267855500noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9214262.post-62411735061544367402008-01-16T07:45:00.000-05:002008-01-17T23:59:32.068-05:00

continuationHe did not mention his idea to many people. Definitely he did not mention it to his mother. It would have been too much for her. Four thousand six hundred and twenty nine miles would have been nothing for her. Six people he had mentioned it to. Plus he sent an email to Sun Mi right before leaving.The alarm clock went off at six o'clock in the morning. Everything was ready but him. He

:jorGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01913211605267855500noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9214262.post-90168842364326663992008-01-15T23:52:00.000-05:002008-01-17T01:00:16.932-05:00

Love. Hate.Friends. Family. Friendships. Relationships.Work. Deadlines. Pressure. Stress.Girlfriends. Ex-girlfriends. Non-girlfriends. Non-boyfriends. Commitments. Responsibilities. Grown-ups.Spirituality. Religion.Money. Rent. Bills.Past. Present. Future.Stop.Cabin depressurization.The idea came to him as many other ideas before, while talking to someone. Heidi listened to how he would like to

:jorGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01913211605267855500noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9214262.post-14292054413850624862008-01-03T09:34:00.001-05:002009-11-20T05:09:28.534-05:00

Behind the telescope, under clouds and clears and a tender snowfall that would wait for them. She was looking through space and time.- Daddy...- Yes Esther?- How old are those stars?- Well, our Galaxy, the Milky Way is around thirteen billion years old...- That's... What?- That's a thirteen and nine zeros... And, actually, a few of those stars you see might not be there anymore...- What do you

:jorGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01913211605267855500noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9214262.post-30503677521500199792008-01-02T11:58:00.000-05:002008-01-02T16:07:18.660-05:00

Me llamó la atención un banco retorcido. Un banco donde acomodarse resultaba imposible. Imposible desde este lado del escaparate. Al otro lado una espaciosa tienda de muebles. Paredes blancas desnudas. Techo negro. Apenas unas cuantas piezas por las que nadie hubiera pagado los desorbitados precios que escondían sin disimulo. Una silla invertida, un armario tumbado, un sofá espiral. De repente,

:jorGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01913211605267855500noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9214262.post-35928002333235846122007-12-31T13:52:00.000-05:002008-01-01T17:47:37.968-05:00

Apenas se veían el uno al otro. La oscuridad dibujaba sombras a su alrededor. La hierba estaba húmeda. Se quitó los zapatos y se dejó seducir por su frescor. La invitó a hacer lo mismo. Se tumbaron bajo un cielo nublado a la orilla de un lago inerte. Las luces de una ciudad ignorante, teñían de fuego opaco un cielo estático.Se dejaron llevar por la brisa vespertina a una realidad de tímidas

:jorGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01913211605267855500noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9214262.post-37821993553752872852007-12-29T15:49:00.001-05:002007-12-30T15:36:55.470-05:00

:jorGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01913211605267855500noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9214262.post-49380417992808191752007-12-24T10:29:00.000-05:002007-12-25T11:40:27.706-05:00

Se levanta semidesnuda dejándolo solo en el otrora nido de un amor que creyeron eterno. Con lágrimas en los ojos camina abatida hacia un rincón de la habitación. Allí, sobre una mesita de noche, residen los recuerdos del alba. Una tras otra, sin dejarse seducir por un mi sostenido, esconde las fotografías en un cajón, lejos del alacance de sus ojos, pero no de su corazón. Cuando regresa a la cama

:jorGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01913211605267855500noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9214262.post-51419645229578454262007-12-23T20:19:00.001-05:002008-01-03T11:44:03.569-05:00

:jorGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01913211605267855500noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9214262.post-21729307169998655252007-12-21T16:55:00.000-05:002008-01-03T11:43:48.762-05:00

All of a sudden there is nothing around me.I am alone.The office would be empty if it was not for me.I should let it be.But I cannot get away from here.Here I feel safe.Here the deafening sound of silence do not let me think about distances.Here I feel as empty as the building.Unaware of my existence.I am afraid of myself, afraid of my epilogues.I am hiding from what I would do next.As I write

:jorGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01913211605267855500noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9214262.post-79390234847014450852007-12-17T00:41:00.000-05:002007-12-17T17:55:05.487-05:00

Noventa millas dan para mucho.Dan para cansarse,para ser pesimista,para ser optimista,dan para descanasar y relajarse.Dan para enamorarse y desenamorarse,cuatro veces,dan para arrepentirse,dan para engañarse a uno mismo,incluso para justificarse.Dan para perderse, para encontrarse,dan para pincharse,para llamarla,para ser rescatado.Dan para ser repudiado,para ser admirado,dan para mostrarse

:jorGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01913211605267855500noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9214262.post-82220591608285630822007-12-14T16:34:00.000-05:002008-05-11T14:44:01.333-05:00

I got it for Christmas a long time ago.So unexpected, it made my day, my year, I thought.I stuck to it.I couldn't get enough.Always looking forward to the next time I was going to enjoy playing with it.Hadn't been happier before.Didn't remember, at least.Tried to play with old ones, as well, but, eventually, I just forgot about them.I was so happy.Time.The first time, I saw it in a store.I wasn't

:jorGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01913211605267855500noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9214262.post-51770196008874352792007-12-10T11:15:00.000-05:002008-05-11T14:44:01.333-05:00

i always liked the picture. i always did. since the first time i saw it. you. not only because of the richness of the fall leaves. not only because of the bittersweet shades. not only because of the never ending amusing sidewalk. also because i enjoyed imagining you, laying on the ground, hiding before your camera, your passion then, looking for the pristine shot. i still smile.i liked when you

:jorGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01913211605267855500noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9214262.post-19952744117139148042007-12-01T19:54:00.000-05:002008-05-11T14:44:01.334-05:00

El séptimo día descanso. Me desnudo. Asumo lo que soy y en lo que me he convertido. El séptimo día me desangro. Sangre sobrante. Sangre contaminada por un yo del que no quiero saber nada. El séptimo día mi diariofrenia pierde el sufijo. Vuelve al anonimato. El séptimo día te doy las gracias por haberme dejado compartir contigo mis absurdos prólogos. Mis estúpidos epílogos. Yo no soy perfecto,

:jorGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01913211605267855500noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9214262.post-558027505592155112007-11-30T18:22:00.000-05:002008-05-11T14:44:01.334-05:00

Me levanto temprano y tropiezo con una zapatilla de deporte cuyos cordones son de color rosa rosa. Me duele la cabeza. Desayuno. Leche, Nesquik, cereales. Ayer la fiesta duró para mí menos de lo esperado. PAN estaba allí, o quizás no. A AH le gustó mi regalo. Un libro en castellano. Su novio es de El Prat del Llobregat, por lo que si quiere entenderse con sus suegros está obligada a aprender el

:jorGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01913211605267855500noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9214262.post-22395195691009492292007-11-29T08:38:00.001-05:002008-05-11T14:44:01.335-05:00

I think about them. They are my friends. From yesterday. From today. From tomorrow. From always. From never.I remember DI and EL, hiding with me, fugitive kids. It was the first time I knew what that curious term meant. I remember TOR and AN, and immediately look at the infinite sky. I remember TA, TO, LAS. Journeys of no return, silent kisses, shouted secrets, naked sights. MON came tonight, in

:jorGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01913211605267855500noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9214262.post-5639557541626627402007-11-28T09:24:00.001-05:002008-05-11T14:44:01.336-05:00

Nado por la mañana. Me meto en el agua de noche. Salgo de ella de día. Amanecer húmedo. Es curioso que cuando nado, como cuando medito, debería decir meditaba, soy capaz de evadirme de la realidad que me rodea, por dentro y por fuera. Dejo de bailar al compás que marcan mis pensamientos. Entonces, sólo entonces, tan pronto como llegan, se van. Nubes. Libertad. ¿Acaso no son nuestros sentimientos

:jorGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01913211605267855500noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9214262.post-78532933828420723612007-11-27T06:04:00.001-05:002008-05-11T14:44:01.337-05:00

Me levanto temprano. Muy temprano. Quizás demasiado. Oscuridad. La lluvia me condena al trabajo. Me hubiera gustado salir a correr cuando todavía nadie podía verme. Aunque no sé si hubiera sido una buena idea, el pastel de cumpleaños de anoche todavía festeja en mi estómago.JU ya es doctor. La verdad, siempre que uno de mis compañeros se defiende con éxito me escucho en estéreo. Motivación.

:jorGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01913211605267855500noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9214262.post-41776004603218790332007-11-26T09:04:00.000-05:002008-05-11T14:44:01.338-05:00

¿Quién me iba a decir que me iba a reencontrar con un viejo amigo? Lo cierto es que hace más de diez años que no lo veo. Más de diez años sin saber nada de él. Lo que tampoco me ha quitado el sueño. Me alegra saber que la vida transcurre con normalidad para él. Tiempo. Me estoy haciendo mayor. ¿Qué otra cosa puede querer decir que coleccione amigos de cuyas vidas dejé de formar parte hace hoy más

:jorGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01913211605267855500noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9214262.post-10215324140289898012007-11-25T16:32:00.001-05:002010-01-26T08:40:51.800-05:00

Me levanto en una cama que no es la mía pero que me resulta familiar. Mucho. El reloj me hiere. El sol brilla. Es domingo. Mi aliento revela lo inoportuno de la cena de la noche anterior. Lasaña mientras digería Life of Brian. Pienso en Brian. Me imagino crucificado. Sonriente. Cantando. PE hace rato que está despierta. Me invita a desayunar pero gentilmente declino su invitación. Hace tres días

:jorGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01913211605267855500noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9214262.post-19268346634347103202007-11-23T15:17:00.000-05:002008-05-11T14:44:01.339-05:00

Oscuridad.Me pasa a menudo.Sentado, de pie.Mientras trabajo, mientras entreno, mientras descanso.Lo mismo da.Solo, acompañado. Estoy sentado, cabizbajo.Respiro profundamente.Orgasmo.Me levanto violentamente.Arranco a correr hacia ella.No levanto la mirada.Raudo y veloz.Cuando se acerca, cuando me acerco, me inclino hacia delante.Mi cabeza revienta contra la pared.Mi cuerpo decapitado

:jorGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01913211605267855500noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9214262.post-20610288091449713972007-11-21T19:55:00.000-05:002008-05-11T14:44:01.339-05:00

i look backand i'm not therei look backand i'm hidingashamedthe causeshave been forgottenthe effectshave notdecisionsin the springmistakesin the falli look backand it hurtsi look backand it's beautifuli look backand i fall in loveagainonly to realizethat it is not youi look backand you are thereas i drawn younot as you are

:jorGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01913211605267855500noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9214262.post-86308572971091944172007-11-07T15:43:00.000-05:002008-05-11T14:44:01.340-05:00

as for todayi am sadi am sadfor fighting my hearti am sadfor looking downfor looking backfor looking insidefor being blindi am sadfor being sorryi am sadfor hidingbehind illusionsbehind your shadowbehind myselfi am sadfor waitingfor the sun to raisefor the moon to falli am sadfor feeling safefor building a fakefor flowing with themi am sadfor telling the liesto othersto myselfi am sadfor growing

:jorGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01913211605267855500noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9214262.post-25286397407495197952007-11-01T18:53:00.000-05:002008-05-11T14:44:01.341-05:00

- What do you prefer?- What?- Hate or indifference?- Why are you asking me that?- Be honest and tell me...- I...- Say it!- Indifference hurts me... Hate does only to those who feel it...

:jorGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01913211605267855500noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9214262.post-12319531794610084952007-10-25T15:48:00.002-05:002008-05-22T01:06:25.327-05:00

Yesterday I wanted to restore a smile and only got silence. I tried to capture a memory, but it was already gone. I waited for you at the platform but the twilight came instead. Nothing is like before. Those lights do not shine as they did then, or the nights are everlasting, or the evenings magical, or your sight endless. Now everything is pointless. There is no fight, there is no finish line,

:jorGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01913211605267855500noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9214262.post-75311432687667372992007-10-19T07:56:00.000-05:002008-05-11T14:44:01.342-05:00

- I...- Don't! Don't tell me...- What are you talking about?- Don't till you explain me what it means to you...- I...- I'm tired of assuming, wishing it means the same it does to me... When it's not... That hurts... Here, deep...

:jorGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01913211605267855500noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9214262.post-12949025132751813472007-10-11T03:26:00.000-05:002008-01-03T11:43:48.765-05:00

Red rose petals scattered on the dirty floor of an empty subway.Two people.A goodbye.A shove.A sight.A rose sold by a street vendor.A run away.An I love you.A tear.An I'm sorry.A couple.

:jorGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01913211605267855500noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9214262.post-91658351150123619992007-10-08T12:58:00.000-05:002008-05-11T14:44:01.343-05:00

- Dentro de unas horas será de día. ¿Te apetece salir a recibir el Sol a la playa?- ¿Que quieres decir?- Pues eso, que saldrá el Sol...- ¿El Sol?- Sí, el Sol.- El Sol no volverá a salir.- ¿Qué quieres decir?- Pues eso, que el Sol no saldrá...Bajó la cabeza y se dio la vuelta y caminó lentamente en dirección contraria a la ventana, donde ella permaneció inmóvil, dejándose acariciar por el reflejo

:jorGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01913211605267855500noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9214262.post-18773339984569556252007-10-05T09:33:00.000-05:002008-05-11T14:44:01.343-05:00

- Hello!- :x- You look great! How are you doing?- :x- I'm fine. You know... A little bit of this, a little bit of that. Busy with work and trying to get things done. But lucky me, far from being stressed out. What about you? How's work going?- :x- We should meet some day and catch up. What do you say?- :x- Anyway, it's been great talking to you... I have to go now. Take care!- :x

:jorGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01913211605267855500noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9214262.post-18598671950356874282007-10-03T18:06:00.000-05:002007-10-04T10:14:38.477-05:00

- Oh! And, I'm in love!!!!- Good! I remember the last time I saw you, you had just broken up with your boyfriend...- Yes, that was a long time ago. He was crazy! I mean, really... This time is different. It is! He is the one I was looking for... Charles, is, the, one!- Charles! I like the name... How did you met him?- It just happened, actually! A couple of weeks ago... Isn't it funny? First day

:jorGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01913211605267855500noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9214262.post-57332005599659664202007-10-02T11:21:00.000-05:002007-10-03T05:35:21.992-05:00

- Imagine...- What?- Imagine that we're nothing else but a virus, a cancer, or whatever you wanna call it, that has infected the Earth...- Dude...- That would make sense in cosmological time scales, wouldn't it?- Dude...- Maybe the dinosaurs were a previous plague...- Dude...- What?- Do you listen to me?- Why?- I told you that a couple of months ago!- Really? Oh... Yeah! Sure... Anyways,

:jorGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01913211605267855500noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9214262.post-31531847294562455682007-09-28T03:52:00.000-05:002008-05-11T14:44:01.343-05:00

- I had a dream.- So?- She was in it...- Still?- I guess so...- So?- I don't know... We were at my parents place...- Weird...- I know... She was supposed to sleep there. In my brother's room. She was wearing her pajamas... He was there too... Hanging out with us... I guess? He asked me to help him with something... a presentation! I accepted... The following morning he was still there... So, I

:jorGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01913211605267855500noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9214262.post-73694431223758427772007-09-26T04:47:00.000-05:002007-09-28T06:46:21.251-05:00

- There's blood all over me!- Jack...- Damn it!- Jack...- What, bro? What do you want?- He's dead...- No way! I know he's dead, we killed him... Actually, you killed him, bro!- Why do we do this, Jack?- What the f*ck?- Jack, why do we do this?- Why? I don't know about you, but I just do it for a living. This feeds me, this feeds my wife, and this feeds my children!- What about them, Jack?-

:jorGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01913211605267855500noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9214262.post-77906833100028745272007-09-25T04:23:00.000-05:002008-05-11T14:44:01.344-05:00

- I've been willing to ask you something.- You... you better do it... do it soon... before I go... forever... forever and for good...- Don't joke about that! Anyways, what did I wanna ask? Well, have you ever been in love?- Oh... so that is... that's your question... yes... yes I have...- So?- So... what? I was in love... I was in love once... I was in love with falling... with falling in love...

:jorGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01913211605267855500noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9214262.post-6259290811870193662007-09-24T18:43:00.000-05:002008-05-11T14:44:01.344-05:00

- He doesn't love me anymore. That's how it is, and I better start to accept it, asap...- I'm sorry...- I can't believe what he did... I wasn't ready for that...- I'm sorry...- I know that eventually I'll forgive him... I'll get over him... I'll move on, but, why?- Don't worry... It'll be OK... Sooner than later... By the way, have you noticed that my tan is gone? I look more pale than usual, and

:jorGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01913211605267855500noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9214262.post-60568089581622032192007-09-23T17:21:00.000-05:002007-09-26T02:33:46.062-05:00

- Come on, stop wondering around and help me.- What did you order?- A Spanish omelette. Are you helping me or what?- OK, OK... Let's see... The weight of words. Well, let's see... So, I guess they might have a different weight according to who is telling them and who is listening to them... Then, the total weight might be something like the average of those two. Does that make sense?- I don't

:jorGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01913211605267855500noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9214262.post-7702479819868554672007-09-22T09:39:00.000-05:002008-05-11T14:44:01.345-05:00

- What do you think?- About what?- I don't know... About my doubts, maybe? Are you listening to me?- Yes, I am... Look, if you really wanna know what I think...- Yes...- There's no such a thing as a gray scale in romantic love. It's either black or white. Different shades of gray are just excuses. Excuses people find to hide their fears of being lonely, not being socially accepted, not being a

:jorGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01913211605267855500noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9214262.post-16940892904315486032007-09-21T06:05:00.000-05:002007-09-24T17:08:39.348-05:00

- What about your thing?- I'm just putting into practice what someone told me...- Who?- Someone.- So?- In the end, there are only three kinds of people. The ones who never did, the ones who once did, and the ones who more than once did...- But...- But, nothing! No matter two or two thousand... And, dude, this is neither good nor bad, it is just the way it is, and I have to live with it. It is as

:jorGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01913211605267855500noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9214262.post-34096338986378759802007-09-21T02:27:00.000-05:002008-05-11T14:44:01.346-05:00

- Since when?- No, please, don't do that...- Since when? Don't do what? Tell me! Since when?- Please...- Please? Shut up pig and tell me! I hate you right now! Tell me!- I don't know, it just happened... This is difficult for me...- Oh, please... Don't give me that shit... You're just like those you keep saying you have nothing to do with... Just leave, now... Leave!- Are we still having dinner

:jorGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01913211605267855500noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9214262.post-1015051275623948422007-09-16T09:15:00.000-05:002008-05-11T14:44:01.346-05:00

B: What do you mean?A: Let's see... It is like this kid, OK? This kid that loves soccer... He wants to be a striker, right? And he tries over and over again... But he's just not a striker. This feeling of failure is growing and he's not able to get rid of it. Failure is no longer about his performance, it is now about himself. He still loves the game, but he's not able to enjoy it. Then one day,

:jorGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01913211605267855500noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9214262.post-79119278951326289942007-09-14T18:05:00.000-05:002007-09-14T18:12:03.971-05:00

En la escalera:- ¿Sabes que Fernando le pone los cuernos a su mujer con una mulata? Lo bien que estábamos sin ellas...- ...En la oficina:- ¿Sabes que Ernesto ha firmado el contrato a cambio de que hagan la vista gorda con lo de los impagos? Quizás sea momento de pedirle un favor también nosotros...- ...En la universidad:- ¿Sabes que han alterado sus resultados con el objetivo de publicar antes

:jorGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01913211605267855500noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9214262.post-26950975163672913132007-09-04T06:08:00.000-05:002008-05-11T14:44:01.347-05:00

A diario me cruzo con un sinfín de personas, en algunas me fijo, en otras no. Efímeros contactos que nunca volverán y que si lo hacen, serán de nuevo, muy probablemente, efímeros contactos. ¿Cuántos caminos dejamos de recorrer? ¿Cuánta gente de conocer? ¿Cuántos aciertos? ¿Cuántos errores? Cada vez que la veo pienso en esto y la dejo marchar. Sonrío. Soy feliz. Mi caducidad me hace dichoso y

:jorGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01913211605267855500noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9214262.post-20023118176030846532007-09-02T13:50:00.000-05:002008-05-11T14:44:01.348-05:00

Después de mucho tiempo volvieron a encontrarse. Él se encontró con ella, ella se ancontró con él. Ambos se encontraron con cuanto habían dicho y dejado de decir, con el brillo de sus ojos. Pero aquello no era real, pronto pasaría y ambos volverían a una realidad de la que el otro ya no formaba parte.¿No era real?

:jorGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01913211605267855500noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9214262.post-892602500820565132007-08-31T12:56:00.000-05:002007-08-31T13:28:48.265-05:00

Llega temprano pero no hay nadie todavía. Se sienta delante de una ventana artificial y una cosa lo lleva a la otra y así sucesivamente. Mientrastanto fuera cae el sol víctima de la noche que se aproxima. No sabe que mañana no volverá a salir. Todo esta enlazado. Todo menos la realidad.

:jorGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01913211605267855500noreply@blogger.com2