alaiyo

if you can't find a partner use a wooden chair.

It is there, at the back of the cupboard.
I know it is.
All I have to do is stand on a chair and reach into the corner and the bottle is there, next to the syringe.
It does not require too much effort to take it and open it.
One injection would be enough to change the colour of my skin.
I am not looking at all well.
One shot and I would be new again... fresh... revitalised...yet I walk straight past the cupboard.
I make a pathetic attempt to rub my skin, to see if that will give it back its colour.
It does not work. I realise I need help. I simply cannot do this on my own. I need that shot. I am wrong to let myself think otherwise.
Maybe tomorrow.

Here I sit. Unable to move. I have a magnificent view. A womb-like retreat. I close my ears to the outside world and avert my gaze to this window; through this window.
The danger of it becoming my prison or my grave is something I am not really dwelling on. No.

The northbound train, leaving from platform one, will take you into the future. There is no map indicating where you will stop.

The train leaving from platform two, destination East, takes you back to the past. You need no map to know where you are going.

On platform three, the train about to depart towards the South is a circle line train, which will take you to the past and bring you back again.

I am standing on platform four. The train has not arrived yet. I am told this particular train heads West,and takes you on a journey back to Childhood Enthusiasm. I have read somewhere, that from your seat, you have the most invigorating view. Everything you see through the window becomes brighter the further back you travel. It is rather dark here and no one else seems to be expecting this train. As I stand alone, looking into the dark tunnel in anticipation, I wonder whether I should leave my baggage behind when I get on. Can I?

I am warning you, Sir. Keep your distance.
For your own good.
Proximity in this case will scorch you. You see, I burn.
Excuse me, of course you do not see,which is why I feel I should inform you of the imminent danger.
I am slowly being consumed by the flames of desire.
They spread slowly from the pitt of my soul towards the realm of my rational mind causing perturbation and devastation on the way, inflaming all organs in their path.
You may not perceive the combustion, but I assure you, it exists in a place you have touched.
You may ask why you touched and came away unscathed. I will say because you were not aware of the heat.
You may ask why I tell you if by telling I subject you to potential pain.
Do not touch me. You are now enlightened.

Why did you take the plate away?

I was sitting at the table, staring at my plate. I was very hungry. The food looked delicious.
But I could not move my hands.
I asked for help, but no one was listening.
I wriggled in my seat, but found I could not move. I tried to lower my head, thinking I could at least eat like a cat, but my neck was rigid.
I raised my voice loud enough to be heard at the other end of the table. And still, no one heard.
I was sitting at the table.I was very hungry. The food looked delicious.

What do you see when you look into my eyes?
You see specks of green in brown.
You don't realise they are in fact blue.
The change comes from within,which is why you don't perceive it.
I feel blue. I see blue.

Al igual que Obelix cayó dentro del brevaje que aporta fuerza superhumana, yo debí de tropezar al lado del álamo blanco, en el reino de Hades, y debí de caer en la fuente de la memoria. Mi fuerza superhumana es mi capacidad para recordar imágenes, sentimientos y hasta olores de hace veinte años incluso. No es siempre una ventaja, y hoy mismo preferiría encontrar el ciprés bajo el cual se sitúa la fuente del olvido,y sumergirme en la pureza del no recordar; y empezar de nuevo.

It was dark. The sound of jazz funk wafted through the air, mingling with cigarette smoke. Giggling schoolgirls watched the boys enter the room.
She spotted him, standing on the other side of the room with his friends. She watched him. She waited.
Phil Fearon, Fantasy Real. Very slow.
"You wouldn't turn a nice boy like me down, would you?"
"Depends what you're asking..."
One dance.
Two hearts.
One date.

Play it again,Sam.

She had not seen that face for a long time.The face smiled and she smiled back. A smile of complicity.
"I'm here, remember?" the face was saying. "You haven't stopped by for a while, I was wondering when you'd come."
"I'm ashamed to admit, I've been avoiding you", she answered.
"Why?"
"Because, you remind me I have to stop sitting in that dark corner over there, you make me want to go outside and smile at the trees...
"I know.That's my job!"
"I suppose, sometimes I don't want to be reminded, that's all!"
"So what made you return this time?"
"I'd forgotten what you looked like...I'd forgotten who you were,and I needed to remember in order to be me again"
"Well, of course you do, you must realise that unless you come here, you do not have full vision"
"I know that, and I'm tired of seeing without seeing, so I came here to look."
"And what have you seen?"
"I have seen a smile"
"Then you have seen hope, you may go outside and smile at the trees now."
"Thank you!"
"No, my dear, thank YOU!"

What is it you're waiting for?
Do you think someone is going to knock on your door and take away your grief?
Get wise!
Put it in a plastic bag and take it out yourself. Leave it with all the other dregs out there and come back indoors, shut the door, turn the light off and go to bed.
Get some sleep!
Tomorrow you'll feel lighter.

She sits placidly on her old soft cushion, content because she has eaten and she's warm. Her owner will be home soon.She has her eyes fixed on the door. Waiting for him to walk in and pick her up. Before he takes off his coat, he will have rubbed her belly and stroked her back, and placed her carefully on her cushion.Then he will shake the hairs of his coat before hanging it up. Of course, she will follow him around telling him how she has missed him all day while he has been at work. She will rub herself up against his leg to get his attention. He will pour a saucer of milk for her, thinking she is hungry, and she will lap it up , but skip along after him as soon as she has finished, expecting him to sit down in front of the television, so she can jump into his lap and fall asleep while he strokes her neck.
She waits. She hears the key in the door and she gets up. She stands on her side of the door,where he always finds her. The door opens...
...a person she vaguely remembers having seen in the house before walks in.
"Hello, pretty Kitty, are you hungry?"
Where is he?
"Follow me, then"
Why hasn't he come home?
"You ARE a pretty kitty, aren't you?"
The person pours a saucer of milk.
She goes back to her cushion, leaving the milk untouched.
"It's true what they say about cats...you're all so INDIFFERENT!"
She sits on her cushion looking at the door.
And waits.

Today I saw nothing. I heard nothing.
But I remembered your smell. I swallowed your taste. I felt your touch.
I sensed you.

Seis años pagando con el sudor de sus frentes esa hipoteca. Tanto sacrificio y renuncio disfrazado de voluntad.
Tres años disfrutando de lo que era ya "suyo", amortizado el capital.
Cinco años de dudas. De resignación ante la aparente imposibilidad de emprender una reforma por falta de medios y de disponibilidad.
Un año de desesperación, consecuencia de la certeza de saber que no existe reforma posible para arreglar las grietas.
Mudanza.
Desolación.
Media vida hipotecada.
Gran vacío.

"They say that "time assuages"
Time never did assuage;
An actual suffering strengthens.
As sinews do, with age.
Time is a test of trouble,
But not a remedy.
If such it prove, it proves too
There was no malady."

Thank you Emily Dickinson, I couldn't have put it better myself!

I don't want to believe in you, but it's inevitable really. It's been one long life(ok, 36 years) being told you are what makes us the way we are. It's difficult to shake off what has been ingrained in my mind since I can remember.
My father always told me I needed you to be able to survive. If I didn't believe in you I would be alone in the world, without friends, without anything.
All the adults I grew up with believed in you. They were not blind believers, not worshippers, but I could see, even as a child, that you were an important motivation for them,that you gave them a reason to live.
I never really understood why, but it was clear to me that your power was unquestionable to most.
As I grew older and questioned life, I began to see you as a threatening force, which blinded many and which I refused to succumb to. I didn't want to need you, I even felt superior to those who found in you their guiding light. I managed to convince myself that I did not need you.
It has taken me this long to realise that I need you; that everyone needs you. We think we have other priorities in life, but to be honest, our need creates our belief in you.
I have never considered myself a materialistic person. Never. I have always placed love and other such wonderful, abstract notions way above any material gain.
How wrong I have been.
I have finally seen the light.
You must first be in the dark tunnel to appreciate the light.
You are my god. I refuse to worship you, but I believe in you, because I need you, MONEY.

I cannnot conceive a life without passion. I see people who appear passionless and they confuse me. What motivates them? How do they live from day to day with no driving force?
My passions are simple. Love, knowledge, pity and justice. Each of them has the power to make me cry, the power to make my skin tingle, to make my heart beat faster and my mind work overtime.
The only one I have in excess is pity.

Frowning, smiling, laughing, frowning, crying, numb.
Start again...

No cambies tu recuerdo del pasado para alimentar esa rabia que llevas dentro.Ella sí te quiso.
No contamines lo que fue puro porque ahora no aceptes su desamor.
No quieras ver en ella todo el mal personificado porque ella no sea dueña de sus sentimientos,ni tú tampoco.
No escondas tus errores detrás de los suyos.
Acéptalo.No tenía que haber dejado de quererte.
Pero sí te quiso. Más que a si misma.
No cambies el recuerdo de lo que fue vuestra historia.

So you said I was like a fridge.
"Cold inside?" I asked...
Apparently the fridge analogy makes sense because I have a tough exterior, but contain many sweet things inside. In fact my fridge would not be my fridge if it did not have sweets inside!
If we look inside, we can find some yoghurts which are past their sell-by date, but which I'm having trouble getting rid of...then there are those soggy lettuces, once so fresh, but never eaten...and there's a very tempting chocolate cake I'm finding it difficult to resist...a big juicy tomato waiting for me to sink my teeth in...some fresh vegetables and pasta, good wholesome stuff to keep me healthy...a fragrant lemon cut in two...I really must get rid of the old yoghurts and soggy lettuces...they take up space.
There's something wrong with this fridge...too much good stuff gets spoilt, too often, must be the temperature. Needs adjusting. Needs defrosting.

The path was not smooth. Occasionally a stone would make her trip and almost lose her balance.Nevertheless, She continued along this unfamiliar road. The journey was arduous, the weather harsh, yet on She soldiered.
After some time, She stumbled on a rather large protruding bit of earth, and fell. She broke Her heel and sprained Her ankle, so She took off Her shoes, left them on the roadside and continued to walk. Slowly She walked,limping slightly. She could not feel the cuts in Her feet because the pain in Her ankle was so intense. She knew She had to keep walking. If She sat down to nurse Her wound, She would never get up again...

Mierda!
Se me han roto las gafas.
Y ahora, ¿Cómo veo?
No enfoco sin ellas...lo veo todo borroso...no distingo nada...bueno, sí algún perfil tal vez... pero son perfiles tan indefinidos que no logro identificarlos bien...no dispongo de medios para adquirir otro par...tendré que ir dando tumbos por falta de orientación...viendo sin ver.

...E un día tendrei que explicarlle o que quere decir eso.
o vento que sopla non é capaz de facer cicatrizar as feridas feitas o ano pasado. Non pode porque tamén está ferido. Trae unha peste con él, de outros lares que non teñen nada que ver con nós.
Xa pasou un ano pero non ven ninguén co curocromo para botarlle ás feridas que levamos os galegos dentro de nós.
nunca mais, miña nena, nunca mais se pode ser como antes,pero aínda así cando che quitan o teu tés que loitar por non deixar de ser o que ti eres.Que eso non cho quita ninguén.

some people prefer to call them "experience".

It's coming up to ten months since I took that walk in the garden and came across a unique-looking specimen of flora. At the time I spotted it, I was attracted to its uncommon appearance, so I plucked it from its natural habitat and brought it with me to this world. Its aroma intoxicated me immediately, so much in fact that I decided to keep it with me at all times. I took care to water it every day, but some days it seemed to whither nevertheless and, oddly enough, to lose its fragrance too.
I tried placing it elsewhere to enable it to bask in as many sunbeams as I could possibly find for it. Yet, it continued to whither.
I almost gave up hope.
I admit to abandoning it to its fate.
Then, one day I looked, to see how it was, and it seemed different somehow...I could not explain in what way, but I had the impression it was not withering anymore.
So I watered it again, and it raised its head.
And its intoxicating perfume invaded me once more.
And it still does.
From time to time.
Because I deserve it.

You really do have to be careful...there are so many gaps, you have to keep your wits about you or you'll fall right into one and drop down, down, down...
If you're lucky enough to have people who send you gap fillers through the post,then you can skip over them,whilst humming one of those new tunes that's playing on your discman.
Thanks.

"once in a blue moon, something good comes along..."
LIES!
My moon is blue and nothing's coming along.

Ok technically that isn't right. It should be "two little birds". In fact probably just one.
Yesterday morning as I parked my car, a little bird appeared on the pavement. Its colouring caught my eye: black, white and grey. I'm not an expert on bird types, but I had never noticed those colours on birds that size before. I had grey vision yesterday, so I would probably not have perceived the creature if it had been "colourful".
This morning I parked in the same place, out of habit. At that precise moment, a little bird appeared, looking remarkably like yesterday's one. Right beside my car again.
And I began to wonder if there really are such things as coincidences.
And I interpreted the reappearance of the little bird.
And Bob Marley's song came to mind.

Someone stole my sunshine.
It's gone.
I have no idea where to find some more.
Sometimes I see a spark somewhere and I run towards it, full of hope...then I realise it is just a mirage.
I've seen too many illusions I think.
I just don't have the energy to even look anymore.

I was driving at 7.45 this morning while it was still dark. The full moon was staring at me. She knows I'm missing the Sun and she's trying to compensate by shining her serenity on me. I try telling her that I actually want that a lot more than the bouncy rays of the sun.
I want to be a full moon.
This morning I woke up feeling full of determination to face the day with serenity. It did not take long for that sense of calm to be shattered. Before an hour had passed a piece of my fullness had been chipped off, intentionally. The brightness I had begun with was blurred by tears.
Then, unexpectedly someone made me laugh. Real belly laughing that made me cry again, only this time mirth filled the hole which had previously been drilled into my soul.
Now I'm waning again; losing brilliance,losing vigour, losing force until I'm just a tiny piece of hidden moon, covered by clouds.

Me encanta olerla; ese olor de bebé...
Me encanta tocar su piel suave y lamerle la punta de la nariz...
Me encanta que se duerma en mis brazos y oir como respira, con su cabecita apoyada en mi hombro...
Me encanta ver como da sus primeros pasos, con las manos en alto para no perder el equilibrio...
Quisiera enfrascar su esencia para poder retenerla y no olvidarla tal y como es con un añito, cuando ya no me necesite...

Hay gente que dice lo primero que se les ocurre sin tener en cuenta los sentimientos de los demás.
No soporto la falta de tacto.
Esa gente luego dice que "no se ha dado cuenta", "que no lo dijeron con ánimo de ofender..." bla, bla.
Eso me hiere todavía más.
Es añadirle otra ofensa al insulto descarado que es no considerar la sensibilidad de los demás.
Si yo te conozco, sé lo que te hace daño, por lo tanto lo evito. Si no te conozco, pienso lo que digo, como cualquier ser racional, antes de decirlo.
No me digas que te importo para luego ofenderme con tu falta de tacto porque eso demuestra tu falta de interés, y por consiguiente, lo poco que te importo.

Driving through the city, sun smiling at me,and "Harvest For The World" on the radio. Momento hippy...
loading....loading....

I have this big hole inside.
Nothing but tears in there. Transparent tears flowing from some unknown source directly into this cavity,drowning any feelings which may be hanging around waiting to fill the space.

I don't want to be with people today. Yet I don't want to be alone either.
I want to share my soul with someone, but I don't want to talk.
I want to walk away, but I don't want to get out of this chair.
My love bag is overflowing and I want to share it out before it spills on the floor and goes to waste, but I don't want to have to ask anyone to take it.
I want someone to take my hand and lead the way.
I want someone to tell me everything's gonna be allright. I want someone to tell me I'm not alone.
But I don't want to ask for it.

2003 has definitely been the worse year of my life so far.So much has gone wrong. I started off the year on a very positive changing chip note. As I meant to go on. January brought me many eye-openers, but shut up my soul,or maybe the problem was that it was suddenly released...?
I started this blog in October. I've decided to add specific "bits" of this year which have meant something to me and have marked the year. They won't mean anything to anyone who doesn't know what I'm going through. And I'm not going to explain.

Never wished my life away before, but I can't wait for this year to be over.

I sat on the settee. Elsa on my left knee, Ania on my right knee. The two of them watching a Tweenies video,while my automatic pilot bounced them up and down and sang "How Much Is That Doggie In The Window" in a very loud, jovial voice. Meanwhile, I was looking at the backs of their little heads. Thinking how much I love them.That I'm responsible for their presence in this fucked up world.That I can't imagine life without them now.That before I know it they'll be big and independent and won't want to sit on my knees...
And I felt this incredible pain swelling in my stomach, going all the way up to my throat until it choked me and I had to stop singing.

So I'm thinking will you fancy me when we meet, face to face, after such a long spiritual relationship over the net...
It seems as if that physical contact would be the icing on the cake...and then I realise I've made a mistake with the focus...what we already have goes beyond the physical, transcends the mundane to the point where it IS the icing on the cake. Any physical communion would be that cake. Probably a very delicious cake.But not the icing.

I'm back. Ok, ok. I know. I need this I think. I need this place. It does me good.Let me explain. This is about being free to love and feel on a higher plane while being fetterred in the mundane world...
Sometimes I feel very light indeed. As if my Spirit has taken my Soul by the hand and they have gone off somewhere, leaving my body behind. Body then becomes an empty container, useless almost. Spirit and soul float in a non-world, where other spirits and souls meet to commune. They experience the ultimate connection, the highest possible elation, the rapture of understanding. For a moment, even, they have transcended the barriers of banality to reach higher heights. Which almost compensates for the dismal return to earthly instincts imprisoned within the earthly frame called body.