the sad yield of the heart’s protuberance

Night led the way to an upcoming morning.
The girl eventually woke up although she expected not to.
Her eyes had been swollen from all that crying. Emptyless cries of grief and salt had wet the bed she had taken for virgin.
Too many chances had been taken on those same sheets and not by her. She was damn sure of it.
She got out of bed and walked her three steps towards that hotel-room mirror:

one

two

three

Mirror, mirror on the wall, you are the cruelest bitch of all. Let me see what they see., just this once. Stop showing me what I always see. I know this picture too well. It’s not a winning one, but a whining soon to be gone.

The mirror stood in silence and showed the same girl that it showed every time, regardless of location, type of glass, cut, shape, or place on the wall.

Fine. Be the bitch I know you are. Anyways. Just wanted to share some news: I woke up today with a protuberance on my heart. Chill. It’s not a disease. I’ve goolged it and wikipedia-ed it for the last couple of hours. Care to hear my theory?

Mirror shows same girl nodding.

I reckon I have a second heart that’s growing out of me. See the reason why I believe this is because my heart has been preganant for some time now. And she just went into labor. And gave birth to a new heart. Will this make me immortal? More like imoral if you ask me. One bitch with two hearts: can you just imagine the lines?

Mirror is as still as water.

You must think I’m crazy. You’ll see my point. I’m merely telling you all this so you can be prepared. For when I will fall into pieces. Cause I won’t. That’s what I wanted to let you know. Because I have a spare heart now. A fresh one. Just for me. Don’t look at me as if I were some silly quidnunc. I’m not boasting with my new heart. Besides, I’m telling you. Who better to understand posession of 2 hearts instead of a regular one than an object having none?

Mirror crashes into million pieces.

boy, oh boy

caution: wet floor. i spilled my guts all over this place. i'd hate for you to slip. i'd love for you to fall. i could have used the big words, but i just put up this sign instead. so you footle me properly cause you have already handled me better than right. there's no future tense in this post cause future is so uncertain. there are no promises either. i can't keep promises so why make them? i can't say: i'll give you, i'll feel for you, i'll tell you, i'll be your... cause i won't. life has proven me wrong every time i tried to prove her right. so why bother? as for the words...i could make use of so many, but what would be the point? odes, poems, lines? they have been used by so many and you are one of a kind. boy, oh boy, even if it's wet, you have my floor to take.

let lips do what words do...

your mouth opens and words come out of it and start dancing around like sky divers that have just dove from a plane. at one point they grab hands and hold each other into a sharp circle that's a phrase.

the landing though, the touch base, the first base now that's a dreamer. when lips meet in fours and two by two: upper with lower, upper with upper, lower with upper the alltogethernow until you don't know which one is which and which of them are actually yours.

now you're finally talking!

a kiss is worth a thousand words, a thousand pounds (of weight), a thousand promises.

that is only if it does not turn into a Glasgow kiss or a Liverpool one for that matter. then it's worth a thousand stitches.

c'mon now, last chance

if i haven't panicked by now, now would be a perfect time to get into a genuine Toronto blessing. time is the only constant that's constantly slapping me in the face. the face responds by getting me some new wrinkles. fine. i cope with that. the dreams i had set for myself don't. they signed their resignation letter today and told me to piss off. i did. i pissed. my bladder was asking for it. that was the only reason why i did it. i'm blamed for other people's unhappiness. i'm blamed for other people's lives. i can only take the blame for mines. the rest of you just look within and you'll find there the strength to get over. i'm running late. it's funny tho. cause i quit running a long time ago. case closed. i packed up all my shit and this case is pretty heavy. i don't have money to pay the excess baggage so i'll just leave it here. this is a nice place for my shitty case to rest. i'm sorry. if it makes any difference. if it doesn't, i'm sorry even more for daring to feel sorry for nothin'. there's no more time left. there never was. c'mon now, last chance. have anything to say to me before i go? no?

old travis m.

White house no fence. Front door wide open. Suitcases in front of door and three steps in front of suitcases. I climb them without even noticing I'm climbing stairs.

This is private property, I hear from behind. You here to steal my suitacases?

I turn around: white hair blue eyes. Man. In his 60s.
I can't say for sure what I’m doing here. I was looking for Sammy.

Sammy doesn't live here anymore. He never did.

It’s a she. Sammy is a girl.

What kinda name is that for a girl? Sammy is a boy's name. And he ain't here. Better go away, boy. You not wanted here. I don't want you here. See the name on the postal box? Travis m. that's me. Travis m.

Nice to meet ya. I'm Sammy.

So you are Sammy.. Here hold my hat.

He puts this old trilby on top of my palm with the most careful move in the world, as if it was made of porcelain.

Don’t touch it. Just hold it. I hate it when my head accidentally touches something that has been touched by someone else. How old are you?

17, I say and then start to wonder if I really am 17 or if I’m lying. If so, am I younger or older?

Not good. You can't trust someone older than 14. I can't. I’m afraid I’ll have to shoot ya. You’re trespassing. This is my property mr Sammy. And Travis m. does not like trespassers. Particularly you.

What do you mean shoot me? I’ll leave.

I’m afraid it's too late, boy. A little late for turning back. You here. You die.

Wait a minute. This is not making any sense.

My point exactly with a girl named Sammy. It does not make any sense. And you're older that 14. It adds up in a twisted way. Do you even know why you're here?

No. I thought I was looking for Sammy. But then I figured that I was Sammy. Was I looking for myself? And just came across me?

You are Sammy. But you were not looking for yourself. Quite the other way around.

Myself was looking for me? That’s funny.

Funny, but true. Wouldn't you like for this expression to replace: sad, but true? It would be much easier smart-emotionally speaking.

I’m afraid that's not entirely possible. You see... it would mean that all the sad would be funny.

That’s happening as we speak. Every sad thing has a funny part, as well as there's a lot of sad in funny. It’s not like we're reinventing the wheel here. We’re just giving it some speed.

I’m afraid you lost me.

You chose to get lost. I’m only keeping my course. If you're not following me it's entirely your fault so don't you cast any blame on me.

You must have been alone for a long time.

You see. That’s funny, but true. You’re back on the wagon.

And wehre are we off to?

That’s beside the point. The point is that where we're going we're not coming back from. That’s the beauty of the ride. Nothing ever stays the same. It can't. I’ll explain. You see...there were two circles shaping a green tree. They met cute by shaking their centers. Same thing happened here. You are not here to look for any Sammy; you're here because Travis m. needed you. I just needed someone to help me carry the suitcases inside and I made you up. Now enough with the small talk and help me get these suitcases inside.

Sammy?

Sammy?

I can't believe it! The bastard dropped my trilby..

here's your life, live it

my very best friend told me what she really thought about a choice i have made 7 years after i made it.

why didn't you say anything before? i asked her.


who am i to say anything about you or to judge you?


you are my friend, i replied.


even so, it does not give me any rights to tell you what i think about your choices. they are your choices. what if my point of view is entirely unsuitable for you?


and she was right. and i loved her even more for that.

i remember when i was 16 or 17 and even some time after that giving my own opinion about people's choices in terms of jobs, lovers, and sometimes even lives. sign that my life was not good enough for me or that i had so much time on my hands that i could waste it on other people's lives. i was petty, sad and stupid and defined the saying: get a life!

stupidity has its price and i am glad to say i have paid for mine. luckily it was on sale.

i like to think that i got smarter with time and with the shit i fed on.

smart enough: to know a good man when i see one, to return the favor of making me laugh, to not care about the he said, she said, to see myself in the eyes that look at me and feel good about what i see.

i guess it's all about perspective, angle and heart. but they have to come from the inside and sure as hell have to be looking in. it's hard, but as long as i'll be able to be looking out the window inside myself nothing bad can happen.

there will always be the he said she said bullshit because people are empty and need fillers. just like the one time summer hits to shake the asses on.

the saddest thing about this whole fucked up life is that the more i grow the more i despise human nature. myself included.

that's why i think children rule. their true to form and core, they never give a shit about grown ups and the best thing about them, they have the chi by default.

rock's not white, but white with red and blue

long time, no writing, yet a lot of roaming around and drifting. it would only seem fair to draw a few lines on this page with regards to a certain uplifting experience that i completely recommend to anyone who is just a fraction or even a subfraction interested in music. live music to be precise. live music festivals to make it most accurate.

white and red and blue could be either the stripes and stars or the jack that proudly denounces the union. doesn't matter which is which, as both of them were equally represented. no difference is made as log as all guitars' sound is sharp as ice, the drum kits are polished and push the beat up to your stomach and the bass, the good ol lovin' bass bumps and booms and makes love to your dancing feet. as for the vocals... words can't describe them as notes and hums already have.

sublime to put it bluntly.

add to this layer cake a nice topping of enthusiastic public, flags that salute a singalong battle, tits, beer, buddying and bonding in the name of music, for every stretch of lung on the stage tens of thousands of lung stretches in the public and you get a uk style music festival.

i've just had my first one. and am damn grateful.