I took a step towards you today. I think you took a step away to tease me. Like when we almost kiss, lips glancing and then a subtle laugh as the air embraces them with emptiness. I think you like to do that. I know I do.
The sun warmed me, woke me up, inviting me to enjoy its company today at a normal hour. I wanted to keep dreaming. We were on a balcony without a railing and you pushed me in a playful way. I nearly fell but you grabbed me by the collar and held me, feet on the tiled landing, head hanging over the sidewalk below, in perfect control. Like had you given me a nudge I would have surely fallen into uncertainty. But you pulled me close and whispered something I agreed with and we both smiled and the wind disrupted the unequal equilibrium and brought my body back to its upright position. When we went to walk inside the doors were closed so I punched a hole in the glass and wiped my bloody hand through my hair and later on your face and you tasted my blood and you loved it. Somehow we managed to squeeze through the tiny window and onto the couch in the living room and into one another and out again to the balcony later when I awoke.
The pigeons outside my room shat all over the passersby below on the side of the street and cooed so pleasantly that I forgot about their shit and the passersby too. I woke up to this and ate some peanuts and drank some coffee and waited for the day to begin and then for it to pass so night could come and we could be together again somewhere new. I walked up the stairs to the kitchen and then back down to the store to buy milk and then back up again to put milk in the coffee and then further towards the sky to the roof where I watched time pass in the shape of cars and trucks and people on errands. And I pretended to be a bird by calling out to the people below for no reason. And I contemplated jumping, thinking that today is a good day to learn how to fly. Then it occured to me that today would not be a good day to die. So I sat on the edge of the roof and continued my careless cooing like the pigeons only with less feathers and less shit.
I listened to Thom Yorke whine as I finished my coffee and played around on the piano desperately trying to find the right chords for a song I´ve had stuck in my head for a month. I found them. They are the most boring chords one can find. Now I have no desire to write the song. I dissapointed myself but at the same time I was proud that I failed such a beautiful song. Failure is at the heart of art. Often I find out of a thousand photos maybe ten are worth a look. Of a million words I pick a single line and discard the rest into a forgotten history of failure. That´s a lie, I can´t forget them, sometimes they haunt me. When I find I have written the same thing twice I feel as though I´ve somehow cheated. Like two photos of the same thing; one horizontal and one vertical. What is the point? Not that you know. Not that I know, I still do it after all.
Today it is sunny out. I think I´ll go for a bike ride.
Sean
update: here's some photos. more exciting than words :P
Seba working on the mural in the lime room. Pretty cool style. Lots of colored dots on an old wall that we chipped the paint off of. Undernearth the white wall was blue, then green, and finally tan. This chipped paint wall serves as the base of the mural and looks a bit like a map of the world. I think its cool.
Typical Sunday on Calle Andes. Asado (BBQ) in the middle of the street with everyone in the house and our friends. Traffic is super slow, a random taxi every now and then or a hungry cop salivating behind bulletproof glass. I usually feed strangers and make friends easily with good meat. I love this city.
Dancers at the Dia de Patrimonio parade. These older folks always followed the bikini girls dancing candombe. The old men did the silliest dance and the women all fanned themselves and danced a kind of samba/candombe. Beautiful dresses, beautiful women, and goofy old men. Que bueno.
Posts
No comments:
Post a Comment