oh wow, lovely.

I like boys on swings and girls on skateboards. I like babies in highchairs. I like pharmaceutical medicine wrappers. I like people in hats with big eyebrows; I like people in hats with big eyebrows and big moustaches. I like water caught in spiders’ webs. I like wearing all my clothes all at once. I like people who don’t smile. Ever. And I like people who smile. I like hair that goes on and on. I love food.

In some ways, I love everything. ‘Cause it’s less… a sort of a thing, like… less distinct, less particular. I like things that I like, but I love everything. There’s more choice in ‘like’. ‘Cause even the worse things have things to love in them. I love things so much I feel like I can float away. That’s wrong.

I don’t understand that so much. I don’t know what you mean by things I hate. I hate shoes. I hate people who change their voices when they say something important. I hate my thighs. I hate war. I hate swimming costumes that cling. I hate dripping taps… but, I also sort of love dripping taps. I hate imitations. I hate radiators. I hate THIS.

Cadáver exquisito.

Una vez en mi clase de literatura jugamos a este juego que era usado por los artistas surrealistas y consta en que cada uno escribe una frase en una hoja, la dobla para que no se vea lo que escribió y se la pasa al compañero para que este escriba otra y este fue el resultado:

una nueva noche fría en el barrio

del otro lado estoy

y es cuestión de darle tiempo al tiempo

somos una sola raza

todo se transforma

él se le ríe en la cara

la distancia no es el fin

como un falso cielo

El color azul de sus ojos.

No te quemes la cabeza por un poco de placer

la ignorancia de vivir sin vida

el espejo no refleja quien eres

¿Yo soy un osito polar?

No llores porque termino

nunca supe si era invierno o verano

¿será todo un sueño?

le he dado la vuelta al mundo en menos de un segundo

cubren los cubos de hielo, nos dejan en plena oscuridad

una flor marchita te conduce hacia un futuro oscuro

y colorin colorado

el pozo quedo saturado

A mi personalmente, me e n c a n t o.

I want to leave here so that I can die outside. I need to visit Ljubljana castle. It’s always been there, and I’ve never even had the curiosity to go and see it at closerange. I need to talk to the woman who sells chestnuts in winter and flowers in the spring. We passed each other so often, and I never once asked her how she was. And I want to go out without a jacket and walk in the snow, I want to find out what extreme cold feels like, I, who was always so well wrapped up, so afraid of catching a cold.

In short, Dr. Igor, I want to feel the rain on my face, to smile at any man I feel attracted to, to accept all the coffees men might buy for me. I want to kiss my mother, tell her I love her, weep in her lap, unashamed of showing my feelings, because they were always there even though I hid them.

I might go into a church and look at those images that never meant anything to me and see if they say something to me now. If an interesting man invites me out to a club, I’ll accept, and I’ll dance all night until I drop. Then I’ll go to bed with him, but not the way I used to go to bed with other men, trying to stay in control, pretending things I didn’t feel. I want to give myself to one man, to the city, to life and, finally, to death.