This is very important

No, it's not.

Whatever, just read.
That's my point: read. But wait... 'read'? Who the fuck am I talking to?
That's another point: is anybody even reading this shit? What we write about?

¿A quién mierda debería importarle las forradas que se postean acá? A mí me importan, a C. seguro que también le importan, pero ¿por qué habría de importarle a alguien más?

Mirá, la puta que te parió, cambiamos el template porque el otro era una cagada horrible que no atraía la vista. Este yo creo que sí atrae más. Lástima que no es capaz de MOSTRAR LA REPUTA FECHA EN LA QUE SE HACEN LOS POSTS.
Sí, podría ponerme a aprender HTML y hacerlo yo mismo, pero seriously... I'm not going to waste my time on that shit. "Podría" es la palabra clave. Se queda así, Sr. lector inexistente.

Está bueno porque tengo bastante tiempo libre en estos momentos para ponerme a aprender algo, pero nop. Go me, always valuably spending my free-time.
Like I care...

¿Pero quién dijo que ese tiempo no lo voy a usar para otra cosa? Es mi tiempo, nadie va a decidir qué hacer con mi tiempo. Pero para no irnos de tema, volvamos a lo que nos com... pete. Si te reíste con eso: la puta que te parió.
Nada, no creo que alguien se ponga a leer estas cosas, salvo algún que otro conocido con ganas de leer. Con MUCHAS ganas de leer, porque la verdad que cosas menos interesantes no podrían ser posteadas.

La otra vez filmé con el celular un video de un forro con barba pajera durmiendo sentado en un aula teórica vacía de más de 200 asientos. Éramos los únicos ahí. Ese video es más interesante que estos posts de mierda.
Sí, lo filmé, qué mierda te importa, vos seguro que hacés cosas mucho más inteligentes.

Quería avisar que la sección de comentarios está abierta a cualquier alma que se le ocurra pasar por acá, no hace falta una cuenta ni una mierda.
¿Para qué aviso? NO SÉ, HURF DURF.

Bueno, como este post es una cagada atómica terrible, voy a cerrar con un extracto, de una excelente película, que creo que va muy bien con el contenido de lo que acabo de escribir.

"-¿Sabés que conocí una mina que la calentaba el Obelisco?
-¿Cómo la calentaba?
-Qué se yo... decía que era una especie de pene que... que captaba todas las ondas porongóticas que circulan por la ciudad."

L.

Booyah

I'm just going to leave this here...



(not mine)

L.

Thanksgiving

Thanksgiving is just around the corner. So... guess what? IT'S TURKEY TIME!

I'm gonna vanish for a few days.

"Happiness. Happiness is a word for a feeling. Feelings are rarely understood; in a moment they are quickly forgotten and misremembered. And besides, feelings are totally full of shit."

That's all,

C.

Sudden Shift in Reality

I already felt different the moment I woke up this morning. My room was empty. No roommate. Heavy rain by the window. Blueness inside. I get ready. I get to class. I didn't look at you, but I felt something awkward. Something different. Out of place. I just didn't want to look at you, so I walked straight to my seat. Then, through the corner of my eyes, I noticed a different color in you. It was black. I turned my head, and I looked at you and your hair. Why did you dye it black? That beautiful and golden hair. It's almost as if you have some kind of problem with colors. Same thing with your nails. A different color every week, which I don't like at all. Well, I can't judge you... I'm just writing my thoughts. I don't like girls who have red or black or colorful nails to begin with. I like it when it's more natural. Kinda feminine and girlish, but natural. Long nails but not too long. Neat, delicate and no colors involved. Something transparent is okay, I guess. By looking at a girl's hands, you can figure out a lot. Or at least, that's what I think. It's not that I'm a pervert, but a perfectionist. And perfectionists tend to focus on every detail. Even the smallest ones. Anyway, that golden hair that used to hypnotize me... is clearly gone. The hole of emptiness is getting bigger and bigger. That 'something' that I used to hold on to, is gradually fading away.

What's more, T.As are having a strike this week. Heavy rain & strike. Perfect FUCKING combination. My Wednesday exam is canceled, which might be good... or not. I need more fucking credits. My mid-term was a disaster. I thought this Monday was going to be like every Monday. Same ol' routine. But no. So much shit going around. It feels weird. This rain makes me feel blue, people make me feel blue, almost everything is making me feel fucking blue. I should drink Gatorade or something til' I turn blue. Ironically, it's one of my favorite colors. I hate it, but I love it. Well, I don't know how the day is going to end. And seriously, I don't care.

Fuck it,

C.

Future inspiration

"I just realized it's called Facebook because you want to bash your face in with a book whenever you log on and see what retarded things your friends have said."

One day I'll make a post about this. And it will be one of the most anti-social things I'll ever write. And you'll hate me because of it. And I sincerely won't give a fuck.

L.

Limits

While going through limits in my Math class, I analyzed what some people call the 'inner world', and I concluded that I my life has a limit too. The limit of my life as time goes to infinity, could be something like minus/negative infinity. Something is pulling me backwards, as if I were falling into the abyss of emptiness. I feel nothing. I have no one, and no one has me. I have absolutely nothing. Just emptiness.

After class, I saw you walk by. You walked as if you didn't care about anything but yourself. You were walking fast. Really fast. I thought to myself "yeah, whatever... just leave me behind in this shitty world. After all, I'm already used to this crap." It made me feel more lonely than ever. But it was just for an instant. That loneliness turned into emptiness. All those feelings make me feel like a pussy, or some sort of crybaby who does nothing but whine. So I suppress them. I don't need them. They are useless.

As I walked up the stairs of the Foellinger Auditorium later this morning, I looked back. I looked at the quad and the Illini Union. I then realized how much I hate this place. Full of shit and shitty memories. Nothing good came out of it. But fuck that. I'm not aiming to the top, I'm aiming forward.

I'll just keep walking to the end of this infinite and 'negative' tunnel,

C.

Monday

Sweet morning. Bitter awakening. Brought back from an awkward dream. Nothing makes sense. - Class. Fucking class. I see you. Everything seems like a dream. Am I still asleep? The bell rings. You walk away. It's no longer a dream. End of my day. - The rest is not worth telling. Same old shit.

"The first time I saw you, my heart fell. The second time I saw you, my heart fell. The third time, fourth time, fifth time, and every time since, my heart has fallen.

You are the most beautiful person I have ever seen. Your hair, your eyes, your lips, your body... the way you walk, smile, laugh... everything about you is beautiful.

When I see you the World stops. It stops and all that exists for me is you and my eyes staring at you. There's nothing else. No noise, no other people, no thoughts or worries, no yesterday, no tomorrow. The World just stops, and it is a beautiful place, and there is only you...

When you're gone, the World starts again, and I don't like it as much. I can live in it, but I don't like it. I just walk around in it and wait to see you again and wait for it to stop again. I love when it stops. It's the best loving thing I've ever known or felt, the best thing, and that, beautiful... is why I stare at you."

Nothing else to say,

C.

Realidad

Alegre e ingenuo, o infeliz y sabio? La inocencia y la ignorancia nos mantiene lejos de la realidad, una trampa letal para aquellos que caminan en la curiosidad. El sufrimiento, la tristeza y la depresión, son todos signos de madurez.

"For in much wisdom, is much grief. And he that increaseth knowledge, increaseth sorrow."

So, what's it gonna be? Happiness or unhappiness?

C.

-----------------------------------------------------

"The further we go
And older we grow
The more we know
The less we show"

L.

Actualización y aclaración importantísima sobre el 1/4 de día que no le interesa a nadie

Actualización: ahora vi una vieja albina. Con pelo largo.

Aclaración: algunas palomas duermen sobre los cables de los postes.

By the way, I saw you looking at me. So "I look at you when you don't look at me", so goddamn beautiful...
Cloud 9 idiot.

L.

1/4 de día que no le interesa a nadie

Me despierto. Pienso "la puta que te parió y la re concha de tu madre" porque así me recuerdo algo que en realidad no sé qué es pero que supongo es importante. Kiara (gata poseída y habitada por el alma de un perro) totalmente acostada y estirada en el medio de mis piernas. Yo desparramado boca arriba, muñeco de trapo. Contorsionismo, me la saco de encima. Me siento. "La puta madre qué dolor de piernas hijo de mil puta... qué sueño... qué hora... qué hago..." 12 minutos antes de la alarma.

Hago mis cosas. Tomo, no como. Me dejo la remera que tenía puesta, buzo liviano, jeans, medias, zapatillas, afuera. Rengueo hasta el colectivo. Subo, MP3, apenas tema y medio, destino, bajo, rengueo hasta la estación de servicio. Saludo al raro semi-tartamudo del mini-almacén, compro galletitas, pago blah blah camino acostumbrado [al dolor] hasta la facultad, subo escaleras al estilo soldadito de plomo, saludo, me siento, clase. Genial, obligado a hacer una experiencia, Psicología Social, cacho incómodo, cacho interesante. Termina experiencia, semi-vemos tema, termina clase, blah rengo escaleras blah esquina se me fue el colectivo blah subo blah incómodo inquieto nervioso acalorado nena dame espacio mirá mi cara de culo destino bajo camino casa y LA CONCHA TUYA COMPUTADORA DE MIERDA QUE CREÍ QUE TE HABÍA ARREGLADO PERO NO, SEGUÍ JODIÉNDOME Y AGOTÁNDOME LA PACIENCIA CON QUE NO DETECTÁS EL PUTO DISCO DURO, LA REPUTISIMA MADRE QUE TE PARIÓ.

Y acá estoy.

Cosas de no-interés:

-Vi un albino. Con pelo largo.
-Caminé por la calle tan pelotudamente dormido que en una me fui de costado y me estampé el hombro contra la pared.
-Las palomas duermen sobre los cables de los postes.
-Me duelen las piernas. Me cuesta hasta ponerme de pie.
-Compañeras me tratan bien pero yo introvertido. Muy.
-A un señor le gusta ocupar la mitad del piso bajo del colectivo agarrándose del caño de la pared y del caño de un asiento.
-Falta un semáforo peatonal. En una avenida. Divertidísimo adivinar cuándo tendrías que cruzar.
-Alguien escribió LACHE en la pared del baño del 2do. piso de la sede. Lo que no entiendo es por qué hizo el esfuerzo de escribirlo a 2 metros y medio de altura.
-Nunca escribí algo tan aburrido y con tan poco interés.

En fin: por la constante e ingenua esperanza de que hoy sea diferente, y también por acción de mi rutina, voy a ir al lugar de siempre. Y quizá te encuentre.

L.

When you don't think you can, hold on.

"It could have been her golden hair
That turned my head
I didn't look to stare
Like I was hypnotized
But I was fixed
On how she pointed slowly down
And low I sank
And still without a sound
The world was far away
And I was tricked

It could have been her silver skin
That drew me on
I didn't mean to spin
Like I was mesmerized
But I was rapt
Without a name or memory
I waited there
Too scared to even breathe...

It could have been her crystal eyes
That made me stop
I didn't want to sigh
Like I was stupefied
But I was thrown
And at that point of no return
My whole life hanging
On a single word
To be hers evermore
Or mine alone"

I saw you this morning, but it was different. By the time I looked up, you were walking toward me, and looking at me through the corner of your eyes. All my senses went berserk and I didn't know what to do. I just looked down. Fucking coward. Damn, what a fucking pussy. Just snap out of it. If you have the chance, just take it. But no, I couldn't. I was hypnotized, mesmerized and stupefied by your very existence. Such elegance and gracefulness. The way you move, the way you touch your hair. Everything about you is simple but beyond gorgeousness. Every time I see you, my hearts breaks into a thousand pieces. It cannot be fixed, but it's a puzzle that only you can solve. It might be painful, but it fills me with hope.

"This is love. When someone drags you from the wreckage when you have given in. When someone, no matter what the cost, shows you there is hope, this is love. Love hurts."

"Without passion you are already dead."

Anywhere I go, I'm always hoping to see you. Across the street, throughout my window, or even in the library. But I know that's not possible. "I've only wanted to move forward and touch what I couldn't reach."

C.

Routine

Feeling empty? Tired of the same routine over and over again? Are you getting that feeling of not making any progress in life? Well, we could say that everything is accumulative. Even the tiniest sign of sadness or depression. Besides, we tend to associate things and images all the time. For instance, picture yourself in a depressing situation while you are in your room, staring at the roof. Or the computer. Or unconsciously but constantly breathing the peculiar smell in your room. Anything associated to your room. Now, let's say you wake up the next morning, still depressed, and you look around. The first thing you see is the roof, or something that reminds you of the abyss you are falling into. Or, you get back from an extremely exhausting day, and the moment you enter your room, you perceive a peculiar smell, which brings back shitty memories. And even though you probably don't consciously know it, depression takes over you automatically.

"Through the act of living itself, sadness piles up here and there. Whether in the sheets hung out to dry in the sun... the single toothbrush in your bathroom... or the history logs of your cell phone."

I could keep writing and writing but it's fucking late and I need to get some sleep. Speaking of which, I had a dream this morning. I decided to take a small nap, so it was completely unexpected. I dreamed about her. It felt weird and uncomfortable, but in my dream, I was happy. We were staring at each other and everything else was black and white. Everything seemed frozen. I remember her saying that she was headed somewhere and right after that, I woke up. Reality brought me back, and with it came the blueness of life. It was a nice dream, but it made me feel like rotten shit by the time I woke up. "It seems reality destroys our dreams."

"When you're waking up, the world is a blur. What was clear in a dream, suddenly makes no sense. No surreal rescues. No easy, magic way out. But you are awake."

Alone in my head and alone in the world,

C.

Feeling down?

"Oh you know how it is
Wake up feeling blue
And everything that could be wrong is
Including you
Black clouds and rain and pain in your head
And all you want to do is stay in bed

[...]

Yeah you know how it is
Wake up feeling green
Sick as a dog and six times as mean
You don't want to sing you don't want to play
You don't want to swing you don't want to sway
All you want to do is nothing
On a day like today

[...]

So you know how it is
Wake up feeling grey
Nothing much to think and nothing much to say
Don't want to talk don't want to try
Don't want to think don't want to know
Who what where when or why..."

How am I feeling right now?

"Just when you thought you had reached the deepest depths of horror, it suddenly got worse. How to turn off that small voice inside your head that started to whisper that you should be glad... that now, if not before, your revenge was justifiable on any conceivable moral scale. That small voice proved, beyond any doubt, that I was damned."

Oh yeah, damned. I feel Fucking damned.

And damn you all too.

C.

About the end of the world (give me your stuff), part 1 of 2

Really? The world is going to end on December, 2012?
Try this. Look at a calendar. When the year is over, does that mean that according to the calendar there's no more time? No more days? Nothing else to it, we are all dead? Nope, it just means that a new year is starting, so you put up a new damn calendar. Yeah, lots of people use this to argue against doomsday believers, but I like it because it's simple and as stupid as believing that the goddamn world is going to end because a bunch of guys measured time in a different way.

'But look at that! How did they measure things so well in such an early stage of human intelligence?' Well, you know what? People of the past weren't so stupid and braindead as you like to believe. Just because we are of 'the future' it doesn't mean that we are so much more intelligent than then. People WERE intelligent right then, look at how many freaking inventions were made in the past! Look at the whole history of mankind! And Mayans, my friend, were no exception, no matter how much of jungle men/misunderstood prophets you like to believe of them. Which, by the way, is kind of a stereotype: 'yeah, they were precarious and non-intelligent people... so they had to be more in touch with their spiritual side!'

But let's get back on topic... somehow you came to believe that the world is going to end on 2012 because an X ammount of people prophetized about the same date. Oh, Nostradamus you say? Well, Nostradamus was a freaking trippin' balls high idiot with too much free time on his hands. He correctly predicted a lot of events? Nope, just on purpose mistranslations and misunderstandings to attract even more gullible people. Hell, I can make a prophecy right now too! Next year, black smoke will cover up the sky and fire will reign for three days on a row in the city of fallen angels, I'm the new Nostradamus, I'm right! There, misinterpret that as you fucking wish. (Maybe there will be some kind of fire in Los Angeles, maybe it's about a new Pope being elected while the weather is extremely hot, etc. etc. etc. you know what I mean) But what about the dates matching? Big fucking coincidence, get to know the meaning of that word. Last Autumn, the last freaking leaf of a tree fell right in front of me as I was walking down the street. Am I the chosen one? Am I going to die? Nah, coincidence.

So, if you really really REALLY believe the world is going to end on whatever date, please entitle me to all of your belongings. After all, you won't need 'em when we all become guts and shit when a fucking planet crashes right into us out of fucking nowhere, right?

L.

A blog of nobodies for everybody

The advent of the past. Does this make any sense to you? What's advent in the first place? "The coming or arrival, especially of something extremely important." Yeah, right... but what about "the advent of the past"? The coming of the past; the arrival of something that already happened, something that will never happen again exactly the same way, with the same tiny details. It doesn't make sense at all. But think of it like this: the past is just like a persistence mofo that will always come back to you, and it'll either bring with it some nasty bills that were left unpaid, or presents you know you wouldn't deserve even in a million years. It could be like a bloody Revenant haunting you for revenge. Or it could be a source of hope, making you feel as high as the junkies themselves.

This blog is brought to you by a sad sappy sucker and a heartless fuck that does not mince words, just states the facts. [We]'ll be posting random stuff, random memories and random ideas, things that nobody cares, and things that might be meaningless and full of shit for some but inspiring and truthful for others.

Regards,

C.