Calvario

Lacayos, preparen mi féretro; esta vida inmunda ya no tiene sentido.

Merci Josephine

Todos los días

llama a mi puerta el desconsuelo…

Estoy vacía y su eco resuena

por todos los rincones de mi vida.

Se estremece mi sangre

que es un hilo de hielo

al faltarme el calor de tu presencia.

No comprendo el idioma del paisaje;

qué quiere decir “sol”,

“cielo azul”

“aire”.

No comprendo mi ritmo,

ni mi esencia,

ni por qué sigo andando,

respirando,

contemplando a la gente,

a los perros que pasan,

a los pájaros

que mi balcón visitan diariamente.

Ni por qué la mirada,

mis ojos,

abarcan el entorno que me envuelve.

Ya no comprendo nada.

El mundo se me ha vuelto

un compañero extraño

que camina a mi lado

y no conozco.

¿Qué quiere decir “vida”?

Ya no encuentro

aquel sabor que un tiempo me dejara.

Las palmas de mis manos

se cierran sin calor,

desconsoladas.

Que eran tuyos tu casa y tu paisaje;

que está en ellos la huella de tus pasos,

el hueco de tu cuerpo…

Y está la casa llena

de tu recuerdo…

-"Todos los días", por Josefina de la Torre.

...y sin siquiera bajar la vista, se fué caminando con paso decidido en dirección opuesta, enfurecida y amargada, exhausta a causa de sus esfuerzos para ocultar la fragilidad de su ser. La descepción le carcomía las entrañas y podía sentir como su paciencia se agotaba con cada segundo que transcurría.

-"¿Se habrá enojado conmigo?"

-"No, está cansada. Cansada y en guerra con su vida y su impaciencia; está harta de la lentitud pero al mismo tiempo le aterra avanzar."

-"Ah ¿Sufre?"

-"Muchísimo, no te imaginás cuanto."

-"No, pero creo conocer las razones."

-"Creés mal. La razón de esta escena está fuera del alcance de cualquier conocimiento que poseas."

-"Entonces... ¿Qué es?"

-"No te gastes en preguntar, aunque responda a tu pregunta no vas a recibir la verdad, vos no."

-"No entiendo ¿Qué tiene que ver conmigo?"

-"Yo no soy quien para responderte, preguntale a ella."

-"Pero decís que no va a responderme con la verdad... ¿No confía en mí?"

-"Pffff... ¡Estás tan perdido!"

-"No entiendo."

-"Qué querés entender?"

-"Lo que le pasa, supongo; La razón por la cual de repente hay tanto misterio dando vueltas... y alguna que otra cosa."

-"No, eso último no es relevante."

-"¿Cómo sabés qué iba a preguntarte?"

-"Lo sé."

-"A ver ¿Qué era?"

-"No quiero escribirlo, es mi guión, vos sos mi personaje."

-"¿Eh? ¿Con quién hablo?"

-"Con nadie. Sos una idea sumergida en papel, tinta y palabras ¡Y basta de hacer preguntas!"

-"Preguntas. Eso es lo único que tengo ademas del papel co-protagónico."

-"Bueno, está bien. Preguntame."

-"¿Quién soy yo?"

-"Vida."

-"¿Vida?"

-"Sí, su vida, su alegría, su felicidad; y no te tiene."

-"Pero no logro comprender algo: ¿Quién es ella?"

-"¿Te importa?"

-"Sí."

-"¿Realmente te importa? ¿O te importa solo conocer las malditas respuestas a tus preguntas?"

-"Ambas cosas, supongo."

-"¿Suponés? Elegí."

-"¡Me importan ambas!"

-"¡¿ELLA TE IMPORTA?!"

-"¡Sí! ¿Quién es?"

-"Soy yo, ciego. Siempre fuí yo, y todo este tiempo vos fuiste él."

Cae la ficha, seguida del telón.

And all that Jazz!

You know how people have these little habits that get you down.

Like Bernie.

Bernie liked to chew gum.

No, not chew.

Pop!

So I came home this one day and I am really irritated, looking for a little bit of sympathy..

and there's Bernie lying on the couch, drinking a beer

and chewing.

No, not chewing,

Popping!

So, I said to him,

I said, "Bernie, you pop that gum one more time..."

And he did.

So I took the shotgun off the wall and I fired two warning shots...

Into his head.

He had it coming

He had it coming

He only had himself to blame

If you'd have been there

If you'd have heard it

I betcha you would have done the same!

I met Ezekiel Young from Salt Lake City about two years ago

and he told me he was single

and we hit it off right away.

So, we started living together.

He'd go to work, he'd come home, I'd fix him a drink, we'd have dinner.

And then I found out:

"Single" he told me.

Single, my ass.

Not only was he married, oh no, he had six wives.

One of those Mormons, you know.

So that night when he came home from work,

I fixed him his drink, as usual...

You know, some guys just can't hold their arsenic.

He had it coming

He had it coming

He took a flower in its prime

And then he used it

And he abused it

It was a murder, but not a crime!

Now, I'm standing in the kitchen

carving up the chicken for dinner,

minding my own business.

In storms my husband Wilbur in a jealous rage.

"You've been screwing the milkman!" he says.

He was crazy

and he kept on screaming,

"You've been screwing the milkman!"

And then he ran into my knife.

He ran into my knife ten times

If you'd have been there

If you'd have seen it

I betcha you would have done the same!

Mit kersek, en itt? Azt mondjok,

hogy a hires lakem lefogta a ferjemet en meg

lecsaptam a fejet. De nem igaz, en artatlan

vagyok. Nem tudom mert mondja

Uncle Sam hogy en tettem. probaltam

a rendorsegen megmayarazni de nem ertettek meg...

Yeah, but did you do it?

Uh Uh, not guilty!

My sister Veronica and I had this double act,

and my husband, Charlie, traveled around with us.

Now, for the last number in our act we did these 20 acrobatic tricks in a row.

one, two, three, four, five, splits, spread eagles, back flips, flip flops,

one right after the other.

So this one night before the show we're down at the Hotel Cicero,

the three of us, boozing, having a few laughs and we ran out of ice.

So I go out to get some.

I come back, open the door,

and there's Veronica and Charlie doing Number Seventeen -- the spread eagle!

Well, I was in such a state of shock, I completely blacked out, I can't remember a thing.

It wasn't until later, when I was washing the blood off my hands I even knew they were dead.

They had it coming

They had it coming

They had it coming all along

I didn't do it

But if I'd done it

How could you tell me that I was wrong?

I loved Alvin Lipschitz more than I can possibly say.

He was a real artistic guy... sensitive... a painter.

But he was always trying to find himself.

He'd go out every night looking for himself

and on the way he found Ruth, Gladys, Rosemary and Irving.

I guess you could say we broke up because of artistic differences.

He saw himself as alive

and I saw him dead.

The dirty bum, bum, bum, bum, bum

The dirty bum, bum, bum, bum, bum

They had it coming

They had it coming

They had it coming all along

'Cause if they used us, and they abused us

How could you tell us That we were wrong?

~Cell Block Tango, I love you.

La falla de la Dra. Goncalvez

Harta de escribir serenatas vacías, de reirme para no llorar, de enumerar estupideces como estas y al mismo tiempo pretender, o al menos, conformarme con el montón de basura que regurgito desde mi alma y escupo sobre el papel; como una digestión pero exactamente a la inversa.

Lo dejo a criterio del lector, si es que lo hay.

¿Dije lector acaso? Me confundí.

Remitente.

¿Quién? ¿De qué?

Que misterio ¿No?

¿Es que nunca voy a bajar de la cuerda floja?

-"No mires abajo, cruzala."

-"Pero quiero un cable a tierra."

-"No mientas."

-"No miento."

-"Ah ¿Ahora me obedecés?"

-"Pocas veces lo he hecho ¿Quién sos?"

-"¿Te conozco?"

-"Algo."

-"Obedeciste."

-"No. En realidad no estoy segura, no lo sé."

-"Me llaman del sótano."

-"...Yo."

¡Cuantas preguntas!

Tonta.

Jueves ilógico, atemporal y anacrónico; al sol con Javier Mesch.

Sometimes I wonder

Sometimes I ask myself why

Sometimes it hurts when I breathe

Sometimes I cry way too much

Sometimes I think it's possible

Sometimes I feel you near me

Sometimes you're so far away..

Sometimes I wish I were someone else

Sometimes I'd die to tell you

Sometimes I can't even look at you

Sometimes I'm obvious

Sometimes I blush

Sometimes I'd rather give you up

Sometimes I think I should forget you

Sometimes I actually think

Sometimes he haunts me

Sometimes I get too weak

Sometimes I'm blind

Sometimes I feel invisible

Sometimes I just wish I was good enough for you.

Suspiros.

Breathe in for luck.
Breathe in so deep.
This air is blessed, you share with me.
This night is wild, so calm and dull.
These hearts, they race, from self-control.
Your lips are smooth, as they graze mine.
We're doing fine.
We're doing nothing at all.

My hopes are so high that your kiss might kill me.
So won't you kill me?
So I die happy.
My heart is yours to fill or burst,
to break or bury, or wear as jewelry.
Whichever you prefer.

~Dashboard Confessional

Brosandi

¡Que hermoso día! Gracias.

Media Julieta I

Sí, también soy actriz, y en el colegio me eligieron para interpretar medio papel de Julieta en la adaptación truchísima de Romeo & Juliet que estamos preparando con mis compañeros de Inglés y nuestra profesora. Es pésima principalmente porque los alumnos fuimos quienes adaptamos el script original al inglés coloquial y resumimos las líneas, con lo cual arruinamos una pieza bellísima de la literatura y el teatro universal.

Mi participación en la obra consiste en la dramatización del papel protagónico a partir del casamiento con Romeo hasta el final, y como tengo que saber un par de escenas para este viernes, pensé en escribir algunas líneas -corregidas por mí sin permiso ni supervisión de mi profesora- en mi queridísimo corazón virtual.

Scene 9: Capulet's house

J: Go away, sun! Hide and let the night arrive... Night will bring Romeo back to my arms. (Enter Nurse) Tell me, nurse, what news do you bring about my beloved husband?

N: blah blah he's dead, blah blah

J: Oh, you have broken my heart! Both my corpse and Romeo's should lie on the same sad funeral carriage.

N: Tybalt dead, blah

J: So, Romeo has been murdered and my cousin Tybalt died?!

N: Tybalt gone, Romeo killed him / banished from Verona, blahblah men are all the same

J: Don't you speak like that of Romeo in my presence.

N: Are you defending the man who killed your cousin?

J: Shall I speak against my husband? (bursts into tears). Why have you done this, Romeo my love? I'm sure Tybalt wanted to kill him... Go away, tears! If Romeo is alive, then why am I crying? It's the word "banished" which fills my heart with sorrow, I can't stand the pain I feel right now. I will never see him again!

N: blahblah he's at Friar Lawrence's, i'll bring him to you

J: Please, so that we say our last goodbye.

Scene 11: Juliet's room

J: Are you leaving?

Romeo: I must go.

J: Oh please, stay! You don't need to go so soon.

R: blah blah don't care if i'm executed/ i want to stay too

J: No, they can't find you here, you're right, go.

N: (enters) Juliet, your mother's coming. (exits)

J: Goodbye my love. Please, take care and promise me you will let me know when you get to safety. Now go, it's getting cold and dark outside... Go, Romeo, go quickly!

R: just one kiss and i'll leave (NOT)

J: Promise that we'll see each other again.

R: We will. (exits)

Lady Capulet: (enters) don't cry for your cousin blahblah good news

J: i really need them.

LC: blahblahblah sth to cheer you up blah

J: What exactly?

LC: getting married count paris st peter's church blah make you a joyful bride blah

J: (rising her voice) He shall NOT make me a joyful bride!

(enter Nurse and Capulet)

*blabbering* (o sea, cero jotas)

C: blablah wtf's this isn't she proud?

J: I am thankful, but how can i be proud of marrying someone I don't love?

C: bullshit, you're marrying este flaco on Thursday, carajo (menos ganas de escribir cosas poco importantes...)

J: Father, listen to me!

C: (blabbering+complaining)

(exit LC and C)

J: Oh, nurse, what am I supposed to do? I'm already married!

N: blahblah forget Romeo and marry Paris

J: What?! are you serious?

N: yeah, like, duh (?)

J: (thinks) Well, fine. Then go and tell my mother that as I have displeased my father I'm going to Friar Lawrence's to confess and be forgiven, and I will marry Count Paris on Thursday.

N: blah (exits)

J: (to the audience) I'll go to the Friar and ask him to help me, but if everything fails I'll be ready to die.

~