Sergio, Liz, Toby, Lauren, Erik and Aunt Katie joined me in celebrating my 38th at Agua Verde, which is a small Mexican restaurant on Lake Union. This group, while small it sure was diverse, and that contributed to funny and outlandish conversations which flowed while others spied on the neighbor's houseboats.
From there we went for drinks at Dad Watsons, which was just as fun. While I had a bottomless glass of baileys at my disposition, I only had two, since one of the side effects of drinking is migraines (at least to me) so I always impose that limit. We all left by 1:00am, so it was nothing wild. Yesterday I woke up with a mega headache and ended up throwing up at the local starbucks, and that was my day.
1/28/07
1/23/07
XXXVIII
Tomorrow I'm turning 38, and I must confess it is depressing. I have two years left before I turn 40, and I hear that from there it's all downhill. While wealth isn't something I have achieved, I do feel I am now starting to harness my finances and began to put some money away. Therefore I decided to stop for a moment and remember what I've done all these years, for it sure has been a ride. So, if I had a time machine, to what stage of my life would I want to return? follow me, I'll explain on the way....
Back to when I was six? my parents were getting divorced and I hated school, oh, yeah, no. Back to when I was 12, flying to Rio, ready to discover jeans with lycra, supertramp, a turma da monica and the absolutely jaw dropping neighbor who was no more than 4 years older than me and yet wouldn't even acknowledge my existence? no.
But at 16, going to High school in Brazil, now that's a different story. Those were fun times, surfing and working out, I was pretty popular back then and dating Alessandra, who was a blue eyed, blonde brazilian-french cover girl was something I will never forget. Then again, being the stepson of a politician had its downside at times, but it wasn't bad. At 20 I was modeling for Guess and Marithe Francoise Girbaud, going to discotheques every weekend and partying like there was no end. Then again, I was really obnoxious and immature and was frustrated that Paulina Rubio (always in her grey thunderbird) wouldn't give me her number, then again, I only called Thalia a couple of times and kept running into them like if I had been cursed, damn it, I just had to settle for non famous girlfriends and Karlita Viridiana made me know my luck, so ...no, though appearing on the paper was always fun and shallow. Ok, 23, calling people everyday trying to sell them something, wearing suits and ties everyday, oh God heavens no, never again. Only Monica made those years worthwile. Fine, let's jump to 25, moving to Tepoztlan and for the first time in my life smoking a joint and discovering my spiritual self through endless mushroom and peyote trips in Oaxaca and Palenque. Having the most outrageous conversations dressed as a bird seeing the early morning rise, while sitting on the edge of a hill, drinking rum and smoking pot beyond all good and evil, beyond reason, a threshold. YES, I could go back to that... no, not really, I always felt like I was wasting my time, and I was. Ok, so we are up to 28, working as a host at hard rock cafe in cancun, again, partying like there was no tomorrow, snorkeling and snorting and ...nevermind, no. So from there we take a flight to Seattle and turning 30, beginning the longest relationship I ever had, for which I am now in the middle of my divorce. So, no, it was great to build my career solidly and get used to the NW. But still, it was like sleepwalking. Fuck, I even voted for Bush the first time he ran, and yes, my dearest dixie chick readers, he won. (Sorry, I was very missinformed but did not repeat the same mistake the second time around).
And tomorrow, 38.....WTF ??? when did that happen?
Therefore, for my birthday I'm wishing Lestat would show up to drink my blood and make me immortal, in the pale face of eternal youth. But, at my age I know that's not going to happen. It's going to be more like adding up the damages and being grateful for the little things I have accomplished. The horizon seems gloomy from here, but above all, one thing that I do have is a petit commtee of very good friends, these are priceless and outstanding individuals and you know who you are.
Me? I'm just turning 38
Back to when I was six? my parents were getting divorced and I hated school, oh, yeah, no. Back to when I was 12, flying to Rio, ready to discover jeans with lycra, supertramp, a turma da monica and the absolutely jaw dropping neighbor who was no more than 4 years older than me and yet wouldn't even acknowledge my existence? no.
But at 16, going to High school in Brazil, now that's a different story. Those were fun times, surfing and working out, I was pretty popular back then and dating Alessandra, who was a blue eyed, blonde brazilian-french cover girl was something I will never forget. Then again, being the stepson of a politician had its downside at times, but it wasn't bad. At 20 I was modeling for Guess and Marithe Francoise Girbaud, going to discotheques every weekend and partying like there was no end. Then again, I was really obnoxious and immature and was frustrated that Paulina Rubio (always in her grey thunderbird) wouldn't give me her number, then again, I only called Thalia a couple of times and kept running into them like if I had been cursed, damn it, I just had to settle for non famous girlfriends and Karlita Viridiana made me know my luck, so ...no, though appearing on the paper was always fun and shallow. Ok, 23, calling people everyday trying to sell them something, wearing suits and ties everyday, oh God heavens no, never again. Only Monica made those years worthwile. Fine, let's jump to 25, moving to Tepoztlan and for the first time in my life smoking a joint and discovering my spiritual self through endless mushroom and peyote trips in Oaxaca and Palenque. Having the most outrageous conversations dressed as a bird seeing the early morning rise, while sitting on the edge of a hill, drinking rum and smoking pot beyond all good and evil, beyond reason, a threshold. YES, I could go back to that... no, not really, I always felt like I was wasting my time, and I was. Ok, so we are up to 28, working as a host at hard rock cafe in cancun, again, partying like there was no tomorrow, snorkeling and snorting and ...nevermind, no. So from there we take a flight to Seattle and turning 30, beginning the longest relationship I ever had, for which I am now in the middle of my divorce. So, no, it was great to build my career solidly and get used to the NW. But still, it was like sleepwalking. Fuck, I even voted for Bush the first time he ran, and yes, my dearest dixie chick readers, he won. (Sorry, I was very missinformed but did not repeat the same mistake the second time around).
And tomorrow, 38.....WTF ??? when did that happen?
Therefore, for my birthday I'm wishing Lestat would show up to drink my blood and make me immortal, in the pale face of eternal youth. But, at my age I know that's not going to happen. It's going to be more like adding up the damages and being grateful for the little things I have accomplished. The horizon seems gloomy from here, but above all, one thing that I do have is a petit commtee of very good friends, these are priceless and outstanding individuals and you know who you are.
Me? I'm just turning 38
1/22/07
Blue Eyes
Between the sea
and the sky
lies the curvy horizon
which is only seen
from the white of the sand
A storm is the nemesis
strong and slow
ready to make confusion of the palette
it is the hurricane
the typhoon
awakened by the raging bull in my chest
ensnared by that voice
like a lullaby, sweet and soft
calling my name
Sailor of the air
I fearlessly prepare the ships
ready to leave port
in the evening, a week from today
and my destination
worth the adventure for a man
is Her
Courageous endeavour
shipwrecked I will end
drowned in the blue sea of her eyes
and under the sky
lost in her curvy horizon
to only be seen
calm, and asleep
on the white of her thighs
and the sky
lies the curvy horizon
which is only seen
from the white of the sand
A storm is the nemesis
strong and slow
ready to make confusion of the palette
it is the hurricane
the typhoon
awakened by the raging bull in my chest
ensnared by that voice
like a lullaby, sweet and soft
calling my name
Sailor of the air
I fearlessly prepare the ships
ready to leave port
in the evening, a week from today
and my destination
worth the adventure for a man
is Her
Courageous endeavour
shipwrecked I will end
drowned in the blue sea of her eyes
and under the sky
lost in her curvy horizon
to only be seen
calm, and asleep
on the white of her thighs
1/19/07
The Literature of Skin
I think our life is a book
page turner, a blank one, each time
we let others write their stories of us
no filters, no censorship
Just blank pages
ready to be written on
We stain them with ink from the fountain pen
with vampiric blood from the night before
with the love of those carefully crafted kisses
and with the tears for those we left behind
Me, nostalgic and silent
like so many others
insist on revisiting old chapters
past drama, long lost heartbreak
for we have them bookmarked
in alphabetical order
And yet, there's a blank page
like an empty coffee shop
and all the while, there's someone willing to add a footnote
a paragraph or a full chapter
some people are that way
they come and they want all or nothing
and when you least expect it
there's already half a page
but we, we weren't looking
we were too busy trying to proofread previous stories
old romances failed
blaming the flaws in ourselves
trying to find our mistakes
our self sabotage
our lack of love
owning the guilt of our misery
in an empty coffee shop
adding desperate footnotes
as we think of slashing our wrists
with the edge of a fountain pen
washing our skin to clean the sinful vampiric blood
... from the night before
remembering carefully crafted kisses
drowning in tears for those who left us behind
like a footnote
like a bookmark
and in alphabetical order
page turner, a blank one, each time
we let others write their stories of us
no filters, no censorship
Just blank pages
ready to be written on
We stain them with ink from the fountain pen
with vampiric blood from the night before
with the love of those carefully crafted kisses
and with the tears for those we left behind
Me, nostalgic and silent
like so many others
insist on revisiting old chapters
past drama, long lost heartbreak
for we have them bookmarked
in alphabetical order
And yet, there's a blank page
like an empty coffee shop
and all the while, there's someone willing to add a footnote
a paragraph or a full chapter
some people are that way
they come and they want all or nothing
and when you least expect it
there's already half a page
but we, we weren't looking
we were too busy trying to proofread previous stories
old romances failed
blaming the flaws in ourselves
trying to find our mistakes
our self sabotage
our lack of love
owning the guilt of our misery
in an empty coffee shop
adding desperate footnotes
as we think of slashing our wrists
with the edge of a fountain pen
washing our skin to clean the sinful vampiric blood
... from the night before
remembering carefully crafted kisses
drowning in tears for those who left us behind
like a footnote
like a bookmark
and in alphabetical order
1/14/07
Puerto Marquez
Puerto Marquez, Mexico, 1977.
The sun is going to come up in 4 hours and I'm as frightened as I've ever been. I’m sitting on the deck of my old man's sailboat, the "Don Quijote". A 41 foot, blue, double mast Morgan, which is anchored in the middle of the bay. From here I can see the lights of the port, the Torre Blanca hotel and the cross, of the Peace Chapel, built by the Trullet's in the 70's. They are the only lights I can see.
The Main and Genoa sails are at the bow and the moonlight turns them into the silhouette of a siren. She has made of the ship her temporary home. The definition is haunting, I can see her face, breasts and the rest of the sail makes her fishtail, I can see her staring at me. Sudden wind gusts blow from the west and as it travels between the boom, the mast and the steel tension cables it makes a low key whistling noise. Slow and lazy, daunting and almost baritone, like an owl from a Bradbury cemetery.
Chills roll down my chest and my back like cold sweat drops. While I tell myself she's not really there and I know it's nothing more than two sails and the wind, but she's staring at me. Then the moonlight shines on her again, and I have nowhere to run. This has been going on for almost 2 hours now, and the early morning tide softly rocks the ship up and down. I'm only eight years old and this would not be the last I'd see of her.
The siren appeared again several times after that night, but she would wait a few years. The next time I saw her it was in the same bay, same time of the night. The year was 1984 and I had just finished talking with my old man. He was over six feet tall, thin and tan due to the constant exposure to the tropical sun. He wore a goatee and mustache and two gold hoops on his left earlobe. Once a prominent businessman who used to fly to London only to have his suits custom made, born to Swiss-German immigrants, bought this boat after his second divorce and became what he always wanted to be; A seawolf, a rebel, traveling around the world. He even had a monkey as a companion for some time and I will never forget his steel blue eyes and his daily diet that consisted of seven packs of non filter cigarettes and a bottle of tequila.
I had asked him if a girl I met that day at the pool could spend the night with me. She was a beautiful Chilean brunette, athletic and toned, with perfect high cheeks and delicate lips, sunbathed like a top sirloin, she filled her one piece, solid black bathing suit like a seal, I think about her when I hear Bon Jovi's "slippery, when wet". Anyway, she was vacationing with her mom and she was about a year older than me. The old man looked me straight in the eye and said "This is your ship, son. Here you do as you please, just as I do".
The very next day I brought her and her mother on board, and that would be the first and last time I would bring someone to meet my dad in order to get permission for my romances. To my surprise permission was granted, by both of our parents, and after returning her mother back to the hotel, well, my guest stayed for the night. It would be the warmest I ever felt that cabin, with a mix of sweat, diesel and salty sea air. Inexperience fell on the floor, shattered like fine china, and her Chilean accent.. think of it as Tennessee Spanish. For some reason that memory will always live with me, and the siren was my witness and that cabin became and would remain mine for years to come.
The sun is going to come up in 4 hours and I'm as frightened as I've ever been. I’m sitting on the deck of my old man's sailboat, the "Don Quijote". A 41 foot, blue, double mast Morgan, which is anchored in the middle of the bay. From here I can see the lights of the port, the Torre Blanca hotel and the cross, of the Peace Chapel, built by the Trullet's in the 70's. They are the only lights I can see.
The Main and Genoa sails are at the bow and the moonlight turns them into the silhouette of a siren. She has made of the ship her temporary home. The definition is haunting, I can see her face, breasts and the rest of the sail makes her fishtail, I can see her staring at me. Sudden wind gusts blow from the west and as it travels between the boom, the mast and the steel tension cables it makes a low key whistling noise. Slow and lazy, daunting and almost baritone, like an owl from a Bradbury cemetery.
Chills roll down my chest and my back like cold sweat drops. While I tell myself she's not really there and I know it's nothing more than two sails and the wind, but she's staring at me. Then the moonlight shines on her again, and I have nowhere to run. This has been going on for almost 2 hours now, and the early morning tide softly rocks the ship up and down. I'm only eight years old and this would not be the last I'd see of her.
The siren appeared again several times after that night, but she would wait a few years. The next time I saw her it was in the same bay, same time of the night. The year was 1984 and I had just finished talking with my old man. He was over six feet tall, thin and tan due to the constant exposure to the tropical sun. He wore a goatee and mustache and two gold hoops on his left earlobe. Once a prominent businessman who used to fly to London only to have his suits custom made, born to Swiss-German immigrants, bought this boat after his second divorce and became what he always wanted to be; A seawolf, a rebel, traveling around the world. He even had a monkey as a companion for some time and I will never forget his steel blue eyes and his daily diet that consisted of seven packs of non filter cigarettes and a bottle of tequila.
I had asked him if a girl I met that day at the pool could spend the night with me. She was a beautiful Chilean brunette, athletic and toned, with perfect high cheeks and delicate lips, sunbathed like a top sirloin, she filled her one piece, solid black bathing suit like a seal, I think about her when I hear Bon Jovi's "slippery, when wet". Anyway, she was vacationing with her mom and she was about a year older than me. The old man looked me straight in the eye and said "This is your ship, son. Here you do as you please, just as I do".
The very next day I brought her and her mother on board, and that would be the first and last time I would bring someone to meet my dad in order to get permission for my romances. To my surprise permission was granted, by both of our parents, and after returning her mother back to the hotel, well, my guest stayed for the night. It would be the warmest I ever felt that cabin, with a mix of sweat, diesel and salty sea air. Inexperience fell on the floor, shattered like fine china, and her Chilean accent.. think of it as Tennessee Spanish. For some reason that memory will always live with me, and the siren was my witness and that cabin became and would remain mine for years to come.
1/12/07
Port of Call
Standing barefoot by the window
I see the moon in all her loneliness
through the spiral of my cigarette
she lights and shades a cloud
silk scarf, caressing her round shape
time leaks
and a compulsively vomiting bullimic ashtray
I need you
and yet I hate to accept it
I need your air to breathe
there's nothing more for me
than the wetness of your kisses
and the stream between your thighs
call me
I’m like a leftist cero
like an empty ballon
like a ship on the open ocean
without a compass or direction
please, call me
I’m so defenseless
I have no more will
I just can’t seem to focus
and I can’t seem to find a way out
A thousand crazy thoughts
that I had never conceived
come to mind in waves
and this time, hurting as I am
I must accept
that I need you just to stay alive
that I'm not just in love with you
but I'm completely lost
and if you don't call me
there'll be no port of call
I see the moon in all her loneliness
through the spiral of my cigarette
she lights and shades a cloud
silk scarf, caressing her round shape
time leaks
and a compulsively vomiting bullimic ashtray
I need you
and yet I hate to accept it
I need your air to breathe
there's nothing more for me
than the wetness of your kisses
and the stream between your thighs
call me
I’m like a leftist cero
like an empty ballon
like a ship on the open ocean
without a compass or direction
please, call me
I’m so defenseless
I have no more will
I just can’t seem to focus
and I can’t seem to find a way out
A thousand crazy thoughts
that I had never conceived
come to mind in waves
and this time, hurting as I am
I must accept
that I need you just to stay alive
that I'm not just in love with you
but I'm completely lost
and if you don't call me
there'll be no port of call
Anchors
Eyes wide open
time standing still
laying in bed
I see slices of the lighpost
shaving the blinds
like a square and striped sun
that zebras my bedroom
Frozen raindrops
cover my car completely
with that color you know nothing about
and a cold breeze, whistling
makes it's way to my room
a chill
I can't move, like an iceberg standing still
it's cold, and it's been like this for weeks
and I'm alone, and it's dark
and there's silence all around
my black satin bed
takes on a sexy coffin shape
and my body, mind and soul
slowly freeze into a corpse
"am I alive?" I wonder
as I fall into a vertigo of doubt
it's just so ...cold
I sometimes feel so ...alone
Guilty of impatience
right before the late morning coffee
go, go play your stupid games
you seem to push me away so well...
and my black satin sail
fills, like my spirit, with air
then my bed becomes the sailboat
heading south, without an anchor
I look around to see if you're there
but this time, you are not aboard
time standing still
laying in bed
I see slices of the lighpost
shaving the blinds
like a square and striped sun
that zebras my bedroom
Frozen raindrops
cover my car completely
with that color you know nothing about
and a cold breeze, whistling
makes it's way to my room
a chill
I can't move, like an iceberg standing still
it's cold, and it's been like this for weeks
and I'm alone, and it's dark
and there's silence all around
my black satin bed
takes on a sexy coffin shape
and my body, mind and soul
slowly freeze into a corpse
"am I alive?" I wonder
as I fall into a vertigo of doubt
it's just so ...cold
I sometimes feel so ...alone
Guilty of impatience
right before the late morning coffee
go, go play your stupid games
you seem to push me away so well...
and my black satin sail
fills, like my spirit, with air
then my bed becomes the sailboat
heading south, without an anchor
I look around to see if you're there
but this time, you are not aboard
1/11/07
Veneno en Rose
The light bulb flickers
and the kitchen sink drips
sliding hands on your thighs
The candle sticks her tongue out
as she dances in the dark
music and sandalwood taint the air
as my tongue poisons your throat
You slide beneath my arms
on this satin bed
sin consumed as I drink you
I sink my teeth into you
and I eat you like a peach
ears deafen
and only respond to guttural commands
Sweat runs down my chest
and drips on your back
you take me, like a dolphin
to the depthness of the sea
I ride you, venusian equus
to the meadow where I dream
my strength the saddle
your hair the reins
All of Antonio's seasons slowly go by
but we hear no time
thirsty hearts find an oasis
beyond truth and lies
In the morning I'll be gone
and you'll reach for me
with half closed eyes
only to bleed in the thorns
of a long stemmed rose
leaving you as my present
to the early birth of dawn.
and the kitchen sink drips
sliding hands on your thighs
The candle sticks her tongue out
as she dances in the dark
music and sandalwood taint the air
as my tongue poisons your throat
You slide beneath my arms
on this satin bed
sin consumed as I drink you
I sink my teeth into you
and I eat you like a peach
ears deafen
and only respond to guttural commands
Sweat runs down my chest
and drips on your back
you take me, like a dolphin
to the depthness of the sea
I ride you, venusian equus
to the meadow where I dream
my strength the saddle
your hair the reins
All of Antonio's seasons slowly go by
but we hear no time
thirsty hearts find an oasis
beyond truth and lies
In the morning I'll be gone
and you'll reach for me
with half closed eyes
only to bleed in the thorns
of a long stemmed rose
leaving you as my present
to the early birth of dawn.
1/10/07
Mea Culpa
Dawn and drunk
the clouds fade away
the sunbeams hit my face
revealing the horizon
The shore uncovers the drifter
the jungle wakes up with a roar
seagulls flirt with the cresting waves
announcing a new day
The genie is out of the lamp
the prisoner has been released
the treasure discovered
my soul, recovered
Tied and tangled
spider and web
dizzy and stupid
rum and percocet
I open my eyes
wide, like the oceans
I sail through the coffee shop
in the endless cigarette
my hand and heart have reclaimed my words
the world, awake and alive
waits...
Too late to go back
too soon to guess
the ticket has been bought
fate flies and flips in the air
like a one dollar coin
... and yet, I know it all now
As the sunlight hits the paper
and the wet ink sparkles all the lies
as the spotlight and the mirror
refract my dreams in decaf
and I take the road back
for I feel forgiveness
mea culpa
and back to where I belong
where my face hits the horizon
and a sunbeam reveals your face
and in this cloudy dawn
my drunkenness fades away.
the clouds fade away
the sunbeams hit my face
revealing the horizon
The shore uncovers the drifter
the jungle wakes up with a roar
seagulls flirt with the cresting waves
announcing a new day
The genie is out of the lamp
the prisoner has been released
the treasure discovered
my soul, recovered
Tied and tangled
spider and web
dizzy and stupid
rum and percocet
I open my eyes
wide, like the oceans
I sail through the coffee shop
in the endless cigarette
my hand and heart have reclaimed my words
the world, awake and alive
waits...
Too late to go back
too soon to guess
the ticket has been bought
fate flies and flips in the air
like a one dollar coin
... and yet, I know it all now
As the sunlight hits the paper
and the wet ink sparkles all the lies
as the spotlight and the mirror
refract my dreams in decaf
and I take the road back
for I feel forgiveness
mea culpa
and back to where I belong
where my face hits the horizon
and a sunbeam reveals your face
and in this cloudy dawn
my drunkenness fades away.
1/7/07
Friends
So you want to be my friend
I really don't know why you say that
but it doesn't sound like friendship to me
Friends...
after being lovers?
and arguing like married porcupines?
I don't think so
but it's ok
and therefore I say that "I'd like to be your friend"
But what do I do with my clenched fists?
with my grinding teeth?
with my hands that seek you?
nothing, because we're "friends"
while this fake smile starts to hurt
Please, come in;
Take a step in my shoes
feel like a worm
like a beat up dog
like a big nothing
with a question mark
like an empty half
like a fraction
with a broken answer
and a stupid question
and accepting the pity handout
that you offer as "a friend".
I really don't know why you say that
but it doesn't sound like friendship to me
Friends...
after being lovers?
and arguing like married porcupines?
I don't think so
but it's ok
and therefore I say that "I'd like to be your friend"
But what do I do with my clenched fists?
with my grinding teeth?
with my hands that seek you?
nothing, because we're "friends"
while this fake smile starts to hurt
Please, come in;
Take a step in my shoes
feel like a worm
like a beat up dog
like a big nothing
with a question mark
like an empty half
like a fraction
with a broken answer
and a stupid question
and accepting the pity handout
that you offer as "a friend".
1/6/07
Prince of Walls
Yes, I am vulnerable
but only few people
can see beyond the mask
and beyond the mask
is another one
and then another
and beyond that last mask
there is a wall
and I'm the builder
the architect of this colossus
My wall
old friend
is made from broken reefs
solid iron and steel
heartbreak, heartache
lunar dust and tears
in concrete
it is a wall
my wall
Perpetual scars that identify me
in the life of old romances
no chains or locks
no windows
no point of entry
no emergency exit
just a wall
my wall
Guarded by four sentinels
sarcasm and treason
manipulation and untruth
and a sense of humor as thick as a brick
Yes, this is a big wall
my greatest achievement
and yet you walked right through...
but only few people
can see beyond the mask
and beyond the mask
is another one
and then another
and beyond that last mask
there is a wall
and I'm the builder
the architect of this colossus
My wall
old friend
is made from broken reefs
solid iron and steel
heartbreak, heartache
lunar dust and tears
in concrete
it is a wall
my wall
Perpetual scars that identify me
in the life of old romances
no chains or locks
no windows
no point of entry
no emergency exit
just a wall
my wall
Guarded by four sentinels
sarcasm and treason
manipulation and untruth
and a sense of humor as thick as a brick
Yes, this is a big wall
my greatest achievement
and yet you walked right through...
1/5/07
Seattle (live from Sureshot)
Welcome to Seattle
Bienvenido a Seattle
As of Jan 1st I am now officially a resident of Seattle
on Eastlake, to be exact
I can see the top of the Space Needle
peeking up on the sky
above some tile roof homes
from my living room I get a slice of Lake Union
It's a different air
and I feel at home
as the urbanite I've always been
some streets remind me of Polanco, in Mexico City
the facades by the train station look like Buenos Aires
and nothing seems like Rio
I guess I'm finally "Home"
all of it
with a new coffee shop
I'll miss some of the Issy starbucks baristas
whom I saw daily
so long
Pictures coming soon
Oh, yeah, I am internet-less
until Comcast has mercy
and comes on Tuesday with a new modem.
Bienvenido a Seattle
As of Jan 1st I am now officially a resident of Seattle
on Eastlake, to be exact
I can see the top of the Space Needle
peeking up on the sky
above some tile roof homes
from my living room I get a slice of Lake Union
It's a different air
and I feel at home
as the urbanite I've always been
some streets remind me of Polanco, in Mexico City
the facades by the train station look like Buenos Aires
and nothing seems like Rio
I guess I'm finally "Home"
all of it
with a new coffee shop
I'll miss some of the Issy starbucks baristas
whom I saw daily
so long
Pictures coming soon
Oh, yeah, I am internet-less
until Comcast has mercy
and comes on Tuesday with a new modem.
1/4/07
Super Nova
The light of a star can sometimes blind you
but then again, it's only light
this light
afraid to touch anything
but willing to expose itself
on a city full of artificial lights
dims and disappears
and yet, this light
guided the sailor and gipsy in me
to an oasis
a paradise
a heaven full of love
the place I always seeked
Now the fog of obsession has faded
now I can see the reason behind these stormy days
I can see her, in full splendor
and while I've known her for a long time
that star guided me and showed a clear path
the way to you
full of life
complete and incomplete
and perfectly imperfect
and therefore I'm coming your way
while that star goes to vegas
as she dims and disappears
while you come closer to me.
but then again, it's only light
this light
afraid to touch anything
but willing to expose itself
on a city full of artificial lights
dims and disappears
and yet, this light
guided the sailor and gipsy in me
to an oasis
a paradise
a heaven full of love
the place I always seeked
Now the fog of obsession has faded
now I can see the reason behind these stormy days
I can see her, in full splendor
and while I've known her for a long time
that star guided me and showed a clear path
the way to you
full of life
complete and incomplete
and perfectly imperfect
and therefore I'm coming your way
while that star goes to vegas
as she dims and disappears
while you come closer to me.
1/2/07
Fear and Nothing
A lonely raindrop
trembles on a leaf
scared, she refuses to fall to the ground
to continue the natural circle of life
instead, from above, safe
she sees her insignificant existence go by
Sitting on an old oak
a headachy hummingbird
tries to remember the names
of all the flowers he has kissed
as he continues on his promiscuous flight
All the while a roaring river
just flows by
reminding them of the paths of life
written destiny, defiant fate
and you're not that raindrop
and I'm not a hummingbird
there is no river
there is no fate
just your fears
and my broken good-bye.
trembles on a leaf
scared, she refuses to fall to the ground
to continue the natural circle of life
instead, from above, safe
she sees her insignificant existence go by
Sitting on an old oak
a headachy hummingbird
tries to remember the names
of all the flowers he has kissed
as he continues on his promiscuous flight
All the while a roaring river
just flows by
reminding them of the paths of life
written destiny, defiant fate
and you're not that raindrop
and I'm not a hummingbird
there is no river
there is no fate
just your fears
and my broken good-bye.
1/1/07
The Switch
This is when the waves finally crush the reef to smithereens
when the locomotive runs over a puppy
when the hurricane strikes in all its might
when the lights finally shut down
This is when the levee breaks
when my heart gives up
when the mind betrays
This is it
this is the eye
peeking behind a cluster of clouds in the sky
impersonated by clowns
Yes, this is the gutter
the milk spilled in the fridge
the blood in the sink
the edge of the knife
this is when I'm torn
and my lungs pound to get out
this is the switch
this is when I give up.
when the locomotive runs over a puppy
when the hurricane strikes in all its might
when the lights finally shut down
This is when the levee breaks
when my heart gives up
when the mind betrays
This is it
this is the eye
peeking behind a cluster of clouds in the sky
impersonated by clowns
Yes, this is the gutter
the milk spilled in the fridge
the blood in the sink
the edge of the knife
this is when I'm torn
and my lungs pound to get out
this is the switch
this is when I give up.
01-01-2007
First day of 2007; ergo first post
This is it
all the effort I did last year
all the changes
all the battles
have all been for this year
it was all preparation.
For the first time I began writing in English
i mean, these verses
poetry, crap
whatever you want to call it
since I had always done that in Castilian and Portuguese
For the first time I took my finances seriously
for the first time I got separated, for real
and this year my divorce will be final
finally (that was so hard, still is, since I will forever care for her)
New apartment in Lake Union
I move in tomorrow
Heck, I even have a new dentist
also new glasses (coming soon)
but more than that
a new perspective in life
Now I am free
I feel free
getting rid of all those bags
all those memories
all the past
now I'm ready to move on
and tomorrow it's a brand new day
oh, yeah, I work tomorrow too
and that rocks
I love my job
and it's awesome to make a difference
...and it pays the bills too
No more yesterdays
now it's all about tomorrows
about right now
and all I can think to celebrate
is, well, to start by saying it
and by:
quitting smoking, taking photography lessons, getting certified as mcse in server 2003, taking a journalism course, upgrading my messaging certification to 2003, working out (already signed up for the gym), drinking less pop and more water, buying Starbucks stock (you think???), no, go less, much less to Starbucks, getting Comcast (fuck DSL), already got vista and office and ...yes, an 80gb iPod, eat paella, pimp my ride, losing the extra weight, upgrading to core 2 duo, paying old bills, read all Thompson and Kerouac, going to Mexico to see Jorge, Marco, Monica, Ana Laura, Kains, Alfredo, Mayra, Eric, Tao, Grillo, Paton, Barbarita Merkel, Daga, Arturo, Diana de mi corazon, Andres, Charlotte, Alex (yup, you, Alex Rico), Manolator, Roberto Tapia, The Boldo's, Suomi Santy, Cachirulo, Jorma, Grischa y Monica, Pierdant, Fili, Pocahontas, Huguito Barbosa, Desiree and if you know Karla Viridiana's and Gina Peralta's numbers I'd love to see them.
But above all, this year I want to move to my own condo.
Any trip somewhere else? errrr, I plea the 5th
I also wish to see all of YOUR wishes come true.
This is it
all the effort I did last year
all the changes
all the battles
have all been for this year
it was all preparation.
For the first time I began writing in English
i mean, these verses
poetry, crap
whatever you want to call it
since I had always done that in Castilian and Portuguese
For the first time I took my finances seriously
for the first time I got separated, for real
and this year my divorce will be final
finally (that was so hard, still is, since I will forever care for her)
New apartment in Lake Union
I move in tomorrow
Heck, I even have a new dentist
also new glasses (coming soon)
but more than that
a new perspective in life
Now I am free
I feel free
getting rid of all those bags
all those memories
all the past
now I'm ready to move on
and tomorrow it's a brand new day
oh, yeah, I work tomorrow too
and that rocks
I love my job
and it's awesome to make a difference
...and it pays the bills too
No more yesterdays
now it's all about tomorrows
about right now
and all I can think to celebrate
is, well, to start by saying it
and by:
quitting smoking, taking photography lessons, getting certified as mcse in server 2003, taking a journalism course, upgrading my messaging certification to 2003, working out (already signed up for the gym), drinking less pop and more water, buying Starbucks stock (you think???), no, go less, much less to Starbucks, getting Comcast (fuck DSL), already got vista and office and ...yes, an 80gb iPod, eat paella, pimp my ride, losing the extra weight, upgrading to core 2 duo, paying old bills, read all Thompson and Kerouac, going to Mexico to see Jorge, Marco, Monica, Ana Laura, Kains, Alfredo, Mayra, Eric, Tao, Grillo, Paton, Barbarita Merkel, Daga, Arturo, Diana de mi corazon, Andres, Charlotte, Alex (yup, you, Alex Rico), Manolator, Roberto Tapia, The Boldo's, Suomi Santy, Cachirulo, Jorma, Grischa y Monica, Pierdant, Fili, Pocahontas, Huguito Barbosa, Desiree and if you know Karla Viridiana's and Gina Peralta's numbers I'd love to see them.
But above all, this year I want to move to my own condo.
Any trip somewhere else? errrr, I plea the 5th
I also wish to see all of YOUR wishes come true.
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