I need these symmetrically stacked atop my desk, 

or, tightly held between other libros in my bookshelf.

Or, ma vie. I just need these darling revistas in ma vie!

And if you'd ask, I'd say I want to be Linda Darnel.
Even if just for a day, or two, or five.

I   l o v e d   y o u
like a man loves a woman he never touches, 

only writes to, keeps little photographs of. 

I would have loved you more if I had sat in a small room 
rolling a cigarette and listened to you piss in the bathroom,
but that didn't happen. Your letters got sadder.
Your lovers betrayed you.

- Charles Bukowski 

ugh, this cover! so good!

 

I was afraid I'd eat your brains.

I can feel your heart beat when I'm all alone. 

I can feel your heartbeat like it's my own.

" I tried taking pictures, but they were so mediocre. 

I guess every girl goes through a photography phase. 

You know, horses... taking pictures of your feet."
- Charlotte, Lost in Translation 

blah     blah    blah .

Tell me your stories. Feed me your lines. 

Lie to me, tell me where's my place.

Talk to me, tell me to my face.

Mientras más pasan los años, me contradigo cuando pienso.

El tiempo no me mueve, yo me muevo con el tiempo.
Soy las ganas de vivir, las ganas de cruzar,
las ganas de conocer lo que hay después del mar.
Yo espero que mi boca nunca se calle,
también espero que las turbinas de este avión nunca me fallen.
No tengo todo calculado, ni mi vida resuelta,
sólo tengo una sonrisa, y espero una de vuelta.
Yo confío en el destino, y en la marejada.
Yo no creo enla Iglesia pero creo en tu mirada.
Tu eres el sol en mi cara cuando me levanta,
yo soy la vida que ya tengo, tu eres la vida que me falta.
Así que agarra tu maleta, el bulto, 
los motetes, el equipaje, tu valija, 
la mochila con todos tus juguetes, y - - - 
Dame la mano y vamos a darle la vuelta al mundo.
- C a l l e  1 3

I'm clumsy. Often times I'm a fool. The sadder I am, the more I tend to smile.

I don't say much, but I think it all. I observe everything, every little detail.

I'm difficult, and fragile when I let myself be. I'm simple, and all I want is to hold you.

To ease your past pains,  and melt away your sorrow with my honey glistening eyes.

Take me as I am. Will you still take me as I am ?

New Heart, June 1918 (Granada)

My heart, like a snake,

has shed its skin,

and here I look at it between my fingers,

full of wounds and honey.

The thoughts that nested

in your folds, where have they gone?

Where are the roses that gave off aromas

to Jesus Christ and Satan?

Poor wrapper that has oppressed

my fantastic bright star!

Gray aching scroll

of what I once loved but love no more.

I see fetal knowledge in you,

mummies of verses and skeletons

of my ancient innocence

and my secret romances.

Shall I hang you up on the walls

of my sentimental museum,

together with the cold and dark

sleeping irises of my misfortune?

Or shall I suspend you in the pines

–bereaved book of my love—

for you to learn of the warbling

that the nightingale dedicates to the dawn?

-  Federico Garcia Lorca

“All I can do is be me, 

whoever that is.”

Sometimes, I wish my lips would just fall off. 

kaleidoscopic romance

not so easily seen

in-between the lenses

lay you, the night, and me.

If you fall asleep down by the water,

Baby, I'll carry you . . .

And here's to girls without faces.

same word, different meaning.
same thought, different feeling.

" Oh not because happiness exists,

that too-hasty profit snatched from approaching loss.
..............

But because truly being here is so much ; 

because everything here apparently needs us , 

this fleeting world , which in some strange way keeps calling us. 

Us , the most fleeting of all.

..............

... Ah, but what can we take along into that other realm ?

 Not the art of looking , which is learned so slowly, 

and nothing that happened here.  Nothing .

The sufferings , then. And , above all , the heaviness ,

and the long experience of love - - -

just what is wholly unsayable . "

- Ninth Duino Elegy, Rainer Maria Rilke.

I'm up in the woods. I'm down on my mind.

nine-teen-fifty-six ; take me there.

Un petit Czech film à regarder : 
Hitparáda 60. léta, also known as '60th Chart Years.'

I adore this. Rather utterly, I do. 
Genuineness at its finest.

"I feel like you've made my life have more meaning. 

Thank you for showing me people like you exist."

His words, I'll never forget them.

"The man of a thousand faces

Sits down at the table

Eats a small lump of sugar

And smiles at the moon like he knows her

He begins his quiet ascension

Without anyone's steady instruction

To a place of no religion

He's found a path to her likeness

His words are quiet like stains are

On a tablecloth washed in a river

Stains that are trying to cover

For each other

Or at least blend in with the pattern

Good is better than perfect

Scrub till your fingers are bleeding

And I'm crying for things

I tell others to do without crying

He used to go to his favorite bookstores

And rip out his favorite pages

And stuff 'em into his breast pockets

The moon, to him, was a stranger

And now he sits down at a table

Without anyone's steady instruction

Begins his quiet ascension

To a place of no religion

He's found a path to her likeness

He eats a small lump of sugar

Smiles at the moon like he knows her."
- Regina Spektor 

And some nights she felt like a lawn ornament: 
naked, plastic, waiting.

‎"As things stand now, I am going to be a writer. 

I'm not sure that I'm going to be a good one, or a self supporting one,

 but until the dark thumb of fate presses me to the dust 

And says 'you are nothing', I will be a writer."

- Hunter S. Thompsom

"She wants new shoulders to cry on,  new backseats to lie on,

And she  a l w a y s  gets her way. 

She wants to hurt other guys,  put tears in other eyes. 

Baby's in the black books, yes, she's in the black books today."

Take my words, and bury them alive. Sweetest darling, reprise.  
Sweetest darling, sweetest darling, 
We are not weary just yet. 
Do you remember, if even just merely,
October of last year?  The first time we kissed, the first time we met?
It made no sense, no sense at all. Nor did it have to. 
Because we are. We are, we are. We are.

"Crying in cilantro is definitely the lowest point of my life. 

There is no coming back from that."

Cos' everyone has favorites, and everyone dies.