Small love story

I said:
- I dreamt about you last night
He replied:
- The Smiths

Only then I felt in love.

girl is sad and depressed and lonely.

girl calls boy.
boy calls girl.
girl wants boy.
boy wants girl but it´s complicated.
girl doesn´t care.
girl and boy go for dinner and have sex.
boy fells in love with girl.
girl doesn´t.
boy texts all the time.
girl remembers that is not sad or depressed and lonely afterall and that she very well with her life

girl goes to work.
girl meets other boy.
boy and girl talk.
girl likes boy.
boy looks like he likes girl.
boy says that girl should go with him to India.
girl wants to go to India.
girl gets home and "Eat love and pray" is on tv.
girl adds boy on facebook.
boy is married.

girl is sad and depressed and lonely.

I know it's Sunday night, but do you think I could renegociate my doubt?

Memory options

If only this could be an option! Telling our brain what to do with different info. Keep it or send it the recycle bin or just abandone it in a back room folder.
Exactly one year ago. I inherited my grandfathers' memory and the ability to link events together to know that it was raining and I was tired and I almost missed dinner to stay cosy at home and something made me move and I met a friend while waiting for him downstairs and it was her birthday and I didn't know. Now I know it's her birthday and so I know it was exactly one year ago and I will always know it 2 years from now ,3 , maybe 10, even if the memory of him dilutes in so many other memories, in this day, I won't ever have the option of forgetting.
On the other hand, what would you do with the options?

Shall we dance?

I asked him as soon as we entered the house. Bare feet, wet shoes left at the door, summer rain doesn't cool down the hearts, just one more cigarette in the balcony and he says I don't dance as he grabs my waits and slowly takes it around the room. My feet over his feet as one should always dance when you're in love and I won't ever remember which song was playing.
My feet over his feet as it should always be, even when no music is playing, slowly around the room.

I started drawing as soon as my heart was broken. There's one thing that happens when you feel that your life is stolen from you - an emptyness, like a vacuum, a void, a heavy space inside yourself. With me was in my hands.  I'd look at it and, as I still do, remember my grandfather voice, while my grandmother lied behind a hospital door, after a minor brain stroke at the age of 85, and he grabbed my hand, his hand shaking with fear, and said - you have such a beautiful hands, so beautiful nails, just like your grandmother. And they were empty, loose. The nails were still polished, like my grandmothers - they were never like hers, I have scars from cat bites, and small cuts from kitchen accidents, burn marks and, to be honest, I inherited my father thick working fingers that I disguise under red red nail polish, but they were open, no musle force, laying on my lap. Empty hands as a witness of an empty heart, empty brain. Not nervous, not restless. Just a gigantic black hole with 10 fingers with no hope to create anything - dead extremeties hanging loose. That's when I started drawing, when I became unable to spread the butter on the bread, when the musle loss gave me corps fingers, when I knew they were already useless, I invented them a new function. I never draw before, never knew how to, was never good at it, and then, the fingers, my fingers, as born to a new.life after death, decided to go restless and today, everyday, this is what they do.

Reading a new Murakami will always bring you back here. We'll meet again, I dream. You'll check in at the hostel or just by accident we'll meet each other in a Dublin pub on an afternoon and Misread from Kings of Convinience will be the song playing on the radio.
Or not.
It doesn't really matter. Ella Fitzgerald and Louis Armstrong already sang about it ages ago - no-one can take that away from me

Yep, somedays are just like this. You wake up in a couch, snickers on, not your house, no toothbrush, no time to go home and shower. The mirror tells you you´re not bad, you do it later, you can go to work. The couple of tears you shed yesterday didn´t break your face. One liter of coffee will keep up through the day. Your heart can accept that life is strange. Healing will always be a continuous process, no one is ever cured, the pains exist and they are a part of us, like a leg or a nose. You can ignore them or look at them with deep atention. They are not going anywhere. They don´t have to go anywhere. They don´t even have anywhere to go to. That´s where they live. Your heart accepts it, knows that these things don´t happen to you. They just happen, nothing against you, no favour, But at the same time, it also knows that it´s sunny outside, the cigarettes, although expensive, are still affordable, there is yogurt in the fridge and funk music exists.

Young, Gifted and Blacks by Brothers Gonna Work It Out on Mixcloud

- Would you still love me if I couldn't pay for dinner
- Maybe

#60 oh on my own private world

The plan it wasn't much of a plan, still it was the best that I could find. I told you, it's not easy to make good plans on your own. Do you feel the same? I tried to make it as simple as possible, white on cardboard, a letter, a stamp, a work address, no signing, whatever will be will be. Minimalist.It was not easy. Blaize Pascal said "i wrote you this letter so long because I didn't have the time to make it shorter" and I had the time still I'd prefered to have written you a very long letter like I hope we can have very long conversations.

I know you don't exist. I know that people don't exist as I see them. You, my love, are made of pieces of Murakami, Ozu's movies and the shadows of the trees in a July afternoon by the river. You don't exist like this except in my mind, I know. It's not easy to live with my brain, you know? It builds parallel worlds all the time, plants small flowers, adds some smells and some particular light to make this terrible world more bareble. It has the soundtrack of my spotify, the poems I read when I was younger, it has landscaps of huge natural parks with waterfalls even when I'm on the crowded bus, there are dragonflies everywhere. You have the softest hands of the world and they want to hold mine, in my world. I read too many crazy books, saw too many cinema masterpieces, read phillosophers, plunged my harms into theories of beauty and reality it's a distance world that I sometimes see on my weak days and, to be honest, doesn't really attract me.

I know you don't exist. If you existed, you'd write me back, maybe text me - definitely. Or just hey there. But you don't exist and sometimes I wish the letter never finds you but on the other hand just knowing that there is some sweet love travelling around Europe makes me smile. I told you this before, didn't I, we are always selfish, we only do things for ourselves, and sending some love inside an envelope is something that I did for myself - nothing to loose, I can do it, I can kiss whoever I want, even if it's from the distance. If this was a book we'd meet and maybe it would be strange - are we having our ackward moment now, I'd ask you. Shall we order some wine? you'd smile and say no need for wine, it was never the wine.

oh the fucking expectations... maybe I should stop living daily life and spend my days inside my head. all the flowers the artic monckeys singing on the background, me sitting in my living room, eyes closed, cat on the lap, travelling only on the back of my mind, you could join me and if it didin't work out with you I'd just ordered another sweet boy. I could be happy with that.

#59 Japan

I pour myself another glass of whiskey. It's not my drink, wine is my nature, red wine, but nature has been strange to me this past year.
It's a 12 year old Chivas but it should be a Santory - I can see Bill Murray raising the glass in front of me now...
Just one hour ago I arrived home. It's Monday night which is cinema night and tonight was Ozu's night again, Japan night again, yellow tea kettler, pale green doors and I will always remember you - japonese movies from the 50's were really good and I said I never seen it and now I have - shall I tell you?
Tomorrow I'm going to wake up late for the first time in a long long time and I'm going to buy the lottery. Because of you. Because of you and mostly because I don't have have enough money to offer myself a vacation in Japan and this 2014 is telling me everyday go there - you, Ozu, my tattoo and the cherry blossoms and Air and, most of all Murakami - Japan!. Finished just 'South of the border, west of the sun' - the rain one - just now, after the movie. And I feel Japan calls me and I look to the right and I'm the cherry blossom girl and today I found your phone number hanging loose on the internet and I was just looking for an email and I wish, seriously, I had never seen it. It takes a very strong girl like me to resist it.
Tomorrow I'll send you a letter. I hope I can make it simple and clean. Just a sober invitation for a cup of coffee and an ice-cream (maybe).

#58 single woman's dinner

Starter - toasted bread with cheese and zuchini and wallnuts jam
Second - turnips greens soup (grandmother recipe)
Red wine
Desert - a glass of whisky and hazelnuts chocolate

(this is just a reminder, because most of the nights it's just apple with cereals and yogurt)

#57 girls will be girls...

"I started questioning gender based assumptions a long time ago.
When I was 8 I was confused at being called bossy because I wanted to direct plays that we would put on for our parents. But the boys were not.
When at 14 I started to be sexualised by certain elements of the media.
When at 15 my girlfriends started dropping out of their beloved sports teams because they didn’t want to appear muscly.
When at 18 my male friends were unable to express their feelings.
I decided that I was a Feminist."

 

I was called bossy all my life. I was called tom-boy. I was told that girls don't run around and should be more quiet. I was told that girls wear skirts and don't kick boys in the legs when the try to grab them. I was told that being a woman is all about being discrete, beauty, make-up, soft-power. Soft, sweet, pale, dresses, flowers, Jane Austen.
I was called "bossy" all my life but no-one ever told me that if I was a boy, "bossy" would be substituted by "leadership skills".
A strong woman is not yet an alpha-female.

#56 we are all lazy and guilty

My mom told me the other day - the only reason I do things is out of shame of not wanting to do anything.
I couldn't even believe it. Always thought she was a decided active person, she was always the one that pushed me to take over the world and now she tells me this. I remember when she dropped me off at the airport for my 3 months internship in US. After months of convicing me - you must, you have to, this is a great opportunity and I - I don't want to go, I don't want to go alone, Tennessee is in the middle of nowhere, I have my family here, my boyfriend here, after I made the decision yes, I'm strong, 3 months is nothing, I'll learn a lot, it's going to be fun, an adventure - she dropps me off at the airport and whispers at my hear - you are so brave, I couldn't do it!
We are all weak, I guess. And it's the pressure of the peers that make us be bigger. It's the image that we have of ourselves inside our head and the image that we project to the others that makes us be better. I'm a lazy lazy person. My house is a mess, my head is a mess, I never make my bed before I leave the house, I postpone things until it's impossible to keep it - projects, ideas, plans, meals even. You wouldn't see it when looking at me. Oh she's so strong, she's so brave (like my mom said), she knows what she wants and goes and get it - what you don't see is the nights I just sit on the couch, looking at the wall and watching all the dropps of yellow on the blue, thinking when will I fix that - that takes only 5 minutes and has been like that for 8 months now.

Persona (1966)

#55 '14=7+7 and 7 is not a lucky number

- It's 2014, sweet heart. I also left my long time girlfriend and I haven't a clue why. - he told me.
- I bet my ex- doesn't have a reason either, so it must be 2014.
Climate change, 14=7+7, the crisis, year with no summer... there must be a reason why bees keep on dying and relationships are falling apart. Another one today. One with kids last month. It's just 2014.
I've been thinking about ending 2014 since February. I decided to hold on to it a little bit longer, just out of curiousity, and then it was too close to my birthday and I wanted to have my friends around. I could end 2014 now. I should end 2014 now, make a huge welcome 2015 party, invite all the friends, I'm pretty sure everybody is already tired of this year, but I already bought the ticket and I'm kind of curious about what these vacations reserve me and after November comes Christmas and I can't wait to see the excitment of the kids waiting for Santa's...
Sorry guys. I should be strong enough to give up on all these things and save the world from 3 more painfull months but like a grown-up I'll accept the future and just hope that 2015 will bring us something better

#54 the things people say without a second thought

some may say "destroy to create" with an indie and hippie look on their faces. what they don't know, is that is the same of saying make war to build peace.

#53 the amazing people I meet

She says that she only dates guys on theirs 50's and, most important, with kids of his own. She says that once they have kids, that's when they become man, that's when their world stops being about their belly button.

A cigarette and a cup of coffee in a rainy morning in the balcony, 5 minutes of conversation, she smiles and says she's still drunk from last night, she needs to rush for the bus, goes back and forth, tryes to send he mom a last minute postcard, before she flyes home, she smiles and says that I look really young (I laugh, she's one year older than I am) and that she'll be back next year and we'll talk a little bit more.

I take a picture of her back - photographers don't like being photographed - and there she goes, Milan.

See you next year

#52 don't expect me to be bright and bon vivant

Sometimes the dead rise up from death and they just show up to hunt me. And I promised I would never look back, back is no direction, crying and trying to find some fairness, some justice, some sense to something I've already accepted  that had none, it's just a total waste of time. Still, having the ghost around, on the mouth of friends, stealing from me those 3 days of happiness, the ticket I bought a month ago and I carry religiously in my wallet as a promise of some well deserved fun after all this - nothing really compared to what I've already been stolen this year - re-hearing stories that don't matter anymore, having to make my heart into stone again, pretending that I'm happier now - I'm not but I'm all right, I'm all right, just weary to my bones, still don't expect me to bright and bon vivant, I'm all right, really am, happy even (not happier though), but only as long as the ghost doesn't find me.
So, dear friends, leave the dead among the dead, at least when I'm around


Many's the time I've been mistaken,
And many times confused
And I've often felt forsaken,
And certainly misused.
But I'm all right, I'm all right,
I'm just weary to my bones
Still, you don't expect to be
Bright and Bon Vivant
So far away from home,
So far away from home.

I don't know a soul who's not been battered
Don't have a friend who feels at ease
Don't know a dream that's not been shattered
Or driven to it's knees.
But it's all right, all right.

#51 things I prefered not to know cos it's none of my business

you feel good and you think that you're cured, the disease is gone, no remains of the pain, no leftovers from the past on the living room anymore, no memories popping up every now and then.

you even doubt if you were really sick, you don't remember crying anymore, you don't remember the pain and the old songs don't take you to sad places anymore.

you think I'm so proud of myself, I've moved so fast, I grew so strong, I'm in such a nice place now. But there are somethings that will always take you down, break you again a little bit, bring the past back to your days. Like when you invite a friend for dinner and she declines because she's going to have dinner with your past life. It's not the end of the world, it's normal, but it's sad.

#50 oh they used to love each other a lot

Come and pick me up after work, I say, we'll go for a drink. I pretend I'm the one that needs a drink and it's him that drinks till he falls everyday for the last 2 months. Come and pick me up, we'll go for a a swim and then for dinner and green wine, I need it.
He doesn't open up to anybody. Do people open up? I'm starting to think that nobody opens up. Nobody talks about problems and pains and egos and the nights without sleeping just crying. It's tabu. As if life was all about flowers and parties and that time I made that great trip. 20%? Maybe 10% of life, is what we talk about. I even know people that go and lie to their therapists not to admit that life has ups and downs.
She left me him, one day to the other. She left him and took his kids to another country 3000km away. I can't even imagine anything worst than that. They bought a huge house last year. They used to love each other. They were not happy all the time, I know, I was around enough to see their fights, their i pick up on you because you pick up on me, you always do this and you're always like that. I know he can be impossible and that she can go crazy, I've seen enough of them to know that, but I always truely believed that if there was love, all of the rest was minor. I learned with my life that that is not true. It is getting harder and harder for me to define love. I thought I knew it, I thought it was the shape of a warm meal on a misty cold summer day and a open botttle of wine or the shape of the eyes that watch you when you sleep. I thought it was that butterfly feeling that told you I want to be here tomorrow and tomorrow and now I don't even know if love exists or if it's just a draft that passes throught our mouths once in a while and disapears as soon as we put the words out there. I used to love a lot, I thought. They used to love each other a lot, I thought. Now they'll have to split the kids as best as they can, sell the house, restart from nothing or from little. Now he'll need me to share bottles of green wine and say silly things and serious things, just like I needed him a couple of months ago and this is what kills me - we all need each other, so why don't we take better care?

She knew he was impossible when they met and that was she liked about him.
He felt in love with her crazyness from day one.
Why don't they just accept it now?

I'll be there for both of you, my dear friends, because love fades away, but friendships are stronger.