Try To Erase This From The Blackboard

“Sometimes I wish I could fall asleep”, Tania said. 

“Excuse me? You slept the entire night!”, I screamed.

“Honestly, I believe you need to give a fuck, if you really want things to happen”, she said, as if we were in the middle of another conversation. She used to change topics in the very same way kittens look at any moving object. Her eyes explored the entire bedroom.

“What do you mean, dear?”, I asked her. 

“You know... like when you really don't want things to happen, and, actually, they don't...”, she murmured. Her eyes stopped at the corner of the bedroom. A spider was climbing up the wall.

“I don't follow you, so far”, I complained.

“C'mon! I don't believe you...! But, for instance, when you really want something to happen and it never happens... and the opposite, when you don't care about something and then it happens sooner than you'd ever imagined...”, was her confusing answer.

I had a coughing attack and I got exhausted. For a moment, I thought I was about to vomit and to hyperventilate and to get paranoid once again.

I'm Killin' Your Brain Like A Poisonous Mushroom

She moved her hips, her arms and her legs

And her fake blonde hair also wrapped everything around

I was 11 years old, and I had never heard of that song

As we listened up, a friend of mine complained about it

He recognised, it was based on a sampler of a David Bowie's song

Her name was Jenny, and everyone in highschool knew about her

She had a badass tattoed boyfriend, and he had a motorcycle

As one long cloudy afternoon, she was beautiful and fragile

She was a different girl, she seemed a Caucassian teenager

As her body moved, my heart exploded and I was hypnotised and fragile

Jenny was a beauty, and everybody loved her in highschool

Some guys used to spy on her between classes

Some of them even said they watched her underwear

While she walked thru the alley of the third floor

I thought many times about the magic wisdom of her underwear

I couldn't stop seeing her dancing on that yellow recess

My friend couldn't stop complaining about that sampler

Girls used to rap everyday and guys used to dress like Vanilla Ice

It was 1991 and Jenny danced under the heat of that summer rays

I lost my will and thought I could imitate the tediously unvarying voice of Vanilla Ice

A few months later, Jenny had an awful accident in the motorcycle

Her badass boyfriend tried to avoid the red lights and a truck appeared out of nowhere

Jenny never returned to highschool, and someone told me her head crashed into the ground

And that she flew away for seconds and her legs also broke as she fall down

Her friends said she wouldn't dance again and that she suffered a terrible brain damage

I Guess That You Don't Care About It Now

An electric feeling burns my heart

Just because YOU are in front of me

Your lips look like a gigantic juicy peach

I want to kiss them, but you wouldn't understand it

You warned  me about it on the phone

Your hair looks like a rainbow made of fuzzy DNA

It floats around my head as if it were a windy song

I want to blow it all my life, but I know it won't last more than once

Your eyes look like a tiny cosmic hole

I want to sink on them, but I can't watch you for a single second

I guess you wanted this to happen too, but I'm too afraid

It's November, 1998, and we are in your cold apartment

As in the last weeks, we talked on the telephone all night long

You said you had to tell me a secret as soon as possible

And here I am, getting cold despite your warm loneliness

But I'm too afraid, I can't believe you are interested on me

All I told you was all I wanted was to be more than friends

You said there was another guy interested on you

And you confessed it didn't work 'cause you thought about us

Is this for real? Are we supposed to be on a date?

I guess that you don't care about it now

Bed Of Roses

If Tears Were Liquor I'd Have Drunk Myself Sick

The night was dark and quiet, but Nadine felt her heart was shining aloud. She told me so. I felt the opposite 'cause I didn't love her and I didn't want to stay anymore with her. She used to control me and she had threatened me many times. All the time, she was about to break up with me and to get involved with her favourite ex, again. He was an idiot, a sad stalker. Once, he'd tried to kidnap me and beat me up, just to make me suffer as he suffered because Nadine was in a relationship with me. I didn't understand why Nadine told me so, but I felt sorry for him, and I also hated him. He was pathetic. 

One of Nadine's dogs', a Great Pyrenees called Layne, in honor to Alice In Chains' singer, had died on the last week, so I couldn't be rough. We crossed the parking lot and got to the Taurus. A few minutes ago, we were watching Pulp Fiction, and I'd just hated when she mentioned that Tarantino asked Cobain if he wanted to appear on the movie as a drug dealer. Of course I'd heard of it. That anecdote was so popular, and I was sick of it. You just had to read the booklet of In Utero to have an idea. Nevertheless, I smiled and hold her hand.  

Under the moonlight, Nadine looked like a movie star, blonde and fragile as Marilyn Monroe, but somehow stupid and selfish as Cindy Crawford. I was profoundly confused and tired. My thoughts were focused on just one thing: I wanted to end up that relationship. 

Suddenly, Nadine stared at me. Dim lights made it impossible to not look at her pale blue eyes. They were absolutely beautiful. Then, she asked me if I was sick, and I just told her that I was tired. Ironically, I started to feel sick. I just wanted to sleep. Abruptly, she started to cry. I tried to feel empathy, but I couldn't. "If you need someone to support you, you should call Andreas... He's always available for you", I told her, and she screamed and freaked out. 

We got into the Taurus and I turned on the radio, and the radio was playing a Mark Lanegan's song. Nadine drove the car as I enjoyed and felt connected to the music. She was silent and angst, and, in the middle of nowhere, she told me that she definitely was breaking up with me and that Andreas was a better guy for her than me. She stopped the car, and asked me to leave her alone. I was scared, but I felt drunk and happy.    

What else should I do?

via GIPHY

Stronger Than All

I was 13 years old. My younger brother heard Pantera on a daily basis. A friend of him, introduced him to the band. It was the summer of 1994. The band sounded violent and faster than any other band I heard before. I used to saw I'm broken on TV, almost every other day. Even though I liked them, never thought someday I would attend to a Pantera show. 

It was a rainy evening, on July 1997 at El Palacio De Los Deportes, when Pantera came to Mexico City, for a second time. A few months before, they had been the opening act for Kiss in the same venue. 

Obviously, my brother was a big fan of the band -I wasn't, at all-, but he was not interested in school and he had bad notes, so our parents didn't allow him to go to the show. 

I was there, with a friend of mine. He said he liked Pantera, but he also liked Sepultura, Ugly Kid Joe, Metallica, Skid Row, Kiss, Nirvana, Pearl Jam, Guns N' Roses, basketball and beer. My friend was sort of a poser, but it was funny to hang out with him. He really looked like a heavy metal fan. He had long hair in a punk style, he always dressed shorts and the infamous I Hate Myself And I Want To Die t-shirt which everybody wore short after Cobain's death. 

That evening, Anthrax and Makina played, too. It was a really violent and intense show. At some point, it started to rain and the water began to seep through the roof. It was funny and refreshing. 

Also, when Pantera came out to the stage, people drove wild and began to smash chairs and stuff like that. I don't know who thought it was a great idea to put chairs for the audience in a show like that. It was silly. People started to steal merchandise, too. T-shirts, beers, food... anything you can imagine. 

I kinda felt out of place, but the disaster was so contagious. 

Never thought Dimebag Darrell would die in such an awful way, some years later.