I hurted myself

Friday night,I hurted my left arm and leg: nothing serious, but I can't write with my left hand. So you know: leave a lot of comments and write a lot on your own blogs, for I will be some days without being able to post here (and with some time to read, too). Take care, I'll miss you all.

Happy solitude (a title for my (un)wanted life)

"Y algunas veces suelo recostar mi cabeza en el hombro de la luna y le hablo de una amante inoportuna que se llama soledad"

"And sometimes I lay my head on the shoulders of the moon, and I talk to her about an unwanted lover whose name is solitude"

In the mood for love

Today I watched "In the mood for love" for the second time this week. I had a pizza with Torjman at La Bella Napoli (best napolitan pizza in Barcelona) and then we got into the cinema. Since I had watched In the mood for love last Saturday, I thought of going and watch some David Cronenberg's crap, but finally we decided to go for Wong Kar Wai. And man, it was awesome again.
On the one hand, I discovered I had not understood half of the movie the first time I saw it, and felt proud of myself for being able to understand a piece of art if I am given a second chance. On the other hand, I realised why I have wanted so much to become a cinema director, and why I will never get to be one. The colors, the light, the rythm of this movie is just so completely different from the cinema I have watched lately (and I do watch A LOT of cinema) Not even the best advertisements (probably the purest form of art nowadays) get to achieve something similar. There's a mood, yes, that's it, there's a mood through all this movie, and you can get inside and feel it so deeply. I don't know if it's a mood for love or despair, for coldness or warmth,... and Maggie Cheung, well, I am wordless before her. Her face, her expression, her legs. Definitely, if you get a chance, go and watch it. If possible, in a cinema, a lonely cinema, like the Melies Cinemes at Barcelona. With silence, silence before the music of Wong Kar Wai.

M

You should be working now! Stop reading my blog!

A punto de fumar un porro

Estoy escuchando a Barney Kessel tocar Speak Low, habla bajito. Y me apetece gritar, gritar de felicidad o de tristeza, pero gritar porque no estás junto a mí, porque ni tan siquiera sé quién eres. El CD cambia ahora a Love is here to stay, el amor llegó para quedarse. Amor, quisiera acariciarte y decirte sinceramente que te quiero, que quiero cada instante de tu piel rozándome la palma de la mano, los labios. El gusto de tu piel, las cerezas de tus mejillas. Tus manos, tus manos abrazan mi cadera ahora mismo, siento el calor, el aura de tus manos recorriendo los rincones de mi alma como un huracán suave de placer. Y luego el ruido plácido del tiempo perdido, las contracciones de tu estómago golpeando el mío. Y tus ojos, joder ahora el clarinete enfila How long has this been going on, la guitarra en el transfondo como cama plácida por donde la melodia revuelve las sábanas de las notas precisas. Esa guitarra, que ahora puntea delicada, sin estragos, las notas precisas de mi sentimiento, la burbuja de mi alma al fin penetrada, vencido el dolor de la vida. Agujas de placer absoluto esas notas, y el humo en mi boca. Te quiero.