A plain surface

Yes, waiting for the sun to melt the snow. I can live with it, and I could for long, but it’s what I want to shoot what requires the snow to leave.

Haven’t been quite stable. But the biggest problem is that I know the reason, reason which seems rather undeciphrable ([after a couple of minutes] ok, thinking about it just make it worst).

There is nothing to be said.
Not because nothing has happened.
But because I can get my words in shape and my thoughts fixed up.

It’s just brabba-biribullop-babbap not here.

On sunday it started to snow again. I feared winter was going to leave without a last breath, but it didn’t and now Munich is under snow. Foot steps crunch like Mr. Jones on “cookies” and the joy of having something between my shoes and the asfalt will stay for a while.

On friday we watched a shortfilm with Marc and we both got excited of doing something. It ain’t difficult, you won’t be dishonoured by shooting a nonsense clip and useless stuff only exist under inquisitive thoughts (I don’t really like such declaration, but I can’t think of anything softer or smoother). So…

On saturday, taking the subway home my head started to move inside the skull (like a navigator inside a spice chamber, moving and drooling through his vaginous mouth (?)). Long time since the last time I actually hurry to get home, sit on my stool and write everything down. I like what they -the shaky thoughts inside a turquese wagon- became, and I hope you will someday watch this saturday-rush in movement (even if it sucks donkey dolls in hell).

On monday, a book arrived which I ordered… hmmm… two weeks ago? three maybe. I had already gave it into perdition; the buying-click wasn’t predicted and the prize was minimal. So I forgot it thinking that the american company offering books on amazon would be 3 euro richer. Maybe with those they could get a delivery advice system. But it arrived. And I’m glad because it’s great. “Fuck Machine” by Charles Bukowski (I think I mentioned him some tabulated-thoughts ago), containing the story which gave the name to the book and some other short stories.

On tuesday, I started this post. Bed summons me, good night.

I just HAD to capture him. And it won’t be the last time! (I thought in a revival of his dark old chapter… his encounter with the darkness, with the evilness, with the greed of men!… but I fear I would need a double or some footage of his antagonist.)
Today has been the day of clumsyness. My head just bumped into the table. Again.

I will turn this off. I’d love to hit the bed right now.

(Since I can’t just post it without putting something a bit less crappy than the stuff above I will share my today’s lecture.)

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Asperger Syndrome
Beeldenken
Eidetic Memory

This entry has nothing to do with the eroticism.

Well, kinda. Yesterday I watched an old erotic film. It had some very good symbolisms and sometimes managed the time in a semi-self destructive or maybe just risky way. Anyway, the thing is there’s a scene in the movie where a character says like 2 times “erotic” and then 2 times “eroticism” with an unforgetable accent and in less than 2 minutes. And the way he said it got marked on my brain… erotisc’i'ssm… eroti… sc’i'ssm.

And today, waiting for the second bus I need to take on my way home, was this Erotic shop in front of me, flashing lighting tubes, the highlights, the titles of the sections, the colors, the mannequins. Was like a Zoolander-trigger. I had to do something about it. Destroying it worked. As in, seeing it as something else.

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eroti… sc’i'ssm.

Viernes; cuando suele salir a terreno TODO el equipo que tenemos en la sección ‘Arriendo’. Un dia agotador de seguro!

Pero quién no podría aguantarlo al recibir dos paquetes en un mismo dia?
Primero fue la caja semi destruída, a punto de reventar y pegoteada en cinta adhesiva. Hasta un huevo de alien se vé menos peligroso que la caja.
Era distintivo. Eran las cosas que mi madre me envió.
Galletas, principal alimento de la noche.
Camisetas, creen que voy a salir con camiseta a este invierno? Pero debajo de un cálido chaleco me protegen de las cosquillas.
Chaleco… ehem… ehem… lea arriba.
Más galletas, Marcelo tambien merece una porción. Y las agradece.

Pero como dije, fueron 2 paquetes.
El otro fue mi regalo navidad+cumpleaños por Padres+Omama+Cay+Saioa+ElViejoDeBarba+yquiénsabequienmás. Además de ser la protagonista de esta carta.
La Casio Exilim EX-z750.

Luego del trabajo me fuí donde Marc, yo tenía ganas de ver una película y luego jugar un poquito con ella… ella…

Mientras la nueva batería renacía de su enclaustramiento en el empaque vimos la película, comimos galletas, una pizza, tomamos algo y blablabiamos entre Marc, Hanna y el amo de ella.

La luz verde se iluminó, la batería estuvo entonces a su máxima capacidad, lista para efectuar lo que mis dedos exigieran.
Estando donde Marc la elección fue obvia. El objetivo estuvo tomado. El lente se preparó para los incidentes rayos. El disparador temblaba. El flash disparó.

Primero ataqué sus repisas. Las escuadras formadas bajo el abrasador sol. Garras, estandartes, blasters y esperanza. Armaduras terroríficas y la pureza de los Tau.
Y las bestias.

Luego un poco de jugueteo con ellas. El ataúd combatiente en su máximo esplendor. Las armas relampagueantes y las armaduras hechas trizas. Los elegidos y los líderes. El ardor de la batalla.
Y tras la cerca electrificada. El monstruo, cuyos dientes son cuchillas, sus pasos terremotos y cuidado. Muerde.

Tambien salimos. Pero hay momentos que mejor se guardan en la memoria y no en el celuloide (como la dama gesticulando su rechazo a una propaganda desnudando su trasero en frente al cartel). De todas maneras un par salieron.

Fue un bonito fin de semana… y yo… yo tengo una cámara!!!

Abrazos.

(English translation can be found on the other side of this message)

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