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in the outfield, putting fingers into the ground and hit the morning to feel them. Believe me flower of a cold day in July and perfuming the pillow and winter. Breezes give you kisses, poems and slides in the garden. Read your books that others wrote and fill you with honey and excuses to return to feel you again tomorrow. Feel that this does not make sense, and scratched the words, and vowels do not fit. But just invent a hug and utopia, undressing the puffs of smoke to draw them on the sheets and sunrises. And excuses refilled kisses and tireless suburbs looks to paint on your skin everyday. Vomiting

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Suma y sigue (Vol.10)


The timing of my room.

calendar in my room When you have to turn the pages each month, is that typical and mythical that give a shot every year. Indeed, I am one of those many who buy it. It is true that the first time I saw inside were photos of classic actors barely knew, I made the decision not to buy, but I could not keep my promise to see that by increasing my culture (if you can call it that, of course).

The thing is that my mother has always been the most practical and orderly home, so I guess it was she who planted the nail (pun intended) in the hanging wall calendar since time immemorial. The only problem I find is that it is on the table and to change the month, I have to climb. I do not know if I know, but it's a little dangerous that table, because it has low volatility, so, as you will understand, given my appreciation for life and my laziness, had months "beginning" to my calendar on 10 or 15. Even if I was too late, going to the next month, overall, there was no reason to change it.

Now things have changed. Each month I run to get on the table to count down the days until "our day", to put in Facebook status "Suma y sigue (Vol. What relocate + 1)", so I again congratulate Albert for us to count the minutes left to congratulate you for how many days I have to plan my next update, etc. , etc, etc.

Now things have changed. Each month find a reason to continue to spend (literally) next page and find you great and memorable moments.

SONG OF THE DAY: "Angel Of Mine " Monica


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Gonorrhea How Long Can Is Stay

Everyday Words cheat me. OPEN LETTER

words. Break, crush, both of them hurried to break. Make desperate cries words, autumn, hugs. Blend the words until they bleed, until rust, even to cry. Carry the words to silence, moisture to a dry mouth for silence. Throwing up the words from the hands to the feet to be skin. Give you the words that I have not written, and leave them bleeding on the side of the window to get to your bed. Bleed, which oxidizes to die and be born again many times, as so often say the word should or should not ... or talking nonsense (how are you), and feel a little touch and a little crazy, and keep walking. Walking and find more words to give you and to give me. Go stove for words, words, hug, pillow words. Go after the birth of new syllables and letters to bring your navel ... and drop them along the crease of your waist. Write words and nonsense more words to complete the night alone among cigarette butts and half-written sheets. There are times when words fail. Both are missing that would kill the break in pieces and assemble them again. And that does not make much sense. It would be like to make sense to watch you sleep and do not find a fucking word that describes the early morning, something to make sense as the knot in the stomach, the cord out of the shoe, the bus that arrived late, the park bench empty, the phone does not ring, the cold walls, napkins and handkerchiefs in your pocket, or almost feverish walk down the street telling Baldoz.
At times it was easier write, others say them, and others, like today, it just might drown in silence to make them be reborn. And so have the words to dry your eyes and say that we must look forward and continue to give hope, to love again and again and not look for too much meaning to the passage of time.