With Animals Staring At Your Cleavage

Last weekend, I drunk too much alcohol.

Each time I do it, weird things happen. 

One of these weird things consists in starting to talk to strangers.

Another weird thing is that I say what I really think about them. 

The last weekend some friends came to my place.

Someone invited a chubby girl. 

I had seen her at another parties. 

It's impossible to ignore her. 

She's a big breasted girl and she usually wears blouses with cleavage. 

Someone told me that her dad had died a few months ago. 

Supposedly her personality changed a lot. 

When she arrived, I was kind of drunk, having a conversation in the living room. 

I was talking about the Mexican soccer team and its limited opportunities to transcend in the next World Cup in South Africa. 

As I spoke I sensed that Antonia was incessantly looking at me.

As usual, she wore a blouse with cleavage. 

As she seemed to want to make eye contact with me, I couldn't stop thinking of her cleavage. 

I tried to focus on the conversation, but it was so impressive. 

At some point, I stood up.

I took another beer from the fridge. 

When I closed the door, Antonia was there. 

She scared me. 

She smiled and kinda bit her lips in a pretty suggestive way. 

I shrugged my shoulders and offered her my beer.

She accepted. Again I opened the door of the fridge and then I took another beer. 

As I was doing it, I couldn't stop thinking about her cleavage. 

I had seeing it briefly as I gave her my beer. 

The boiling image of the abyss between her breasts exploded madly in my brain. 

I was really drunk.  

We sit face to face in the dinning room. 

I took a sip of the beer and I closed my eyes. 

I felt so excited. 

I had that boiling image in front of me. 

When I opened my eyes, I felt dizzy. 

Antonia started to talk. 

I made my best to focus on her face. 

She studies at the National School of Plastic Arts and she's a big fan of mac Operative System. She also likes to take photographs. 

I had nothing to say. 

Then she asked me random things about monkeys and science. 

As a lot of people do, Antonia believed that science's goal is deciphering why laziness and bad temper are related to high IQs. 

She even told me about a supposedly journalistic article on which some researchers found that obesity is related to bad relationships. 

She also believed that monkeys were some sort of funny primates. 

Dunno remember what did I tell her, but certainly she was surprised. 

Suddenly we were talking about music. She loved The Doors and she couldn't understand why do I like Nirvana. For her, Kurt Cobain was a terrible composer and musician. She pissed me off. She barely knew Nevermind. This album was her only one reference.  

She asked me too many things and she took advantage of my drunkenness. 

Despite I was drunk, I could sense that she was talking to me in a very sexual way. 

She continued bitting her lips and smiling. 

Maybe she was drunk, too. 

At some point, I realized I had stopped looking at her cleavage. 

Then, I watched it again. 

I felt I was like a thirsty vampire and I decided to talk about it. 

She laughed and reacted as if what I had said would have flattered her. 

I told her what kind of photographs I like. 

Obviously, I told her I love the ones with cleavages.  

Later, she left my place. 

Now, I feel so stupid. 

I feel so sorry and confused. 

(What the hell was she trying to do?)

[So Alone-Lou Reed]

Music Is Like A Volatile Tiny Little Girl

This blog will be a writing experiment.

It will be inspired by music, literature, some pieces of science and women.

All these interests will somehow appear together on the posts.

They won't necessarily be coherent nor have rhythm. 

They will mainly be a confusing mix of reality and dreaming. 

They would mainly appear in the form of an unsatisfied desire.

Women are so important to me. 

My life would be hellish if they did not exist.  

At some point of my life, I fell in love with several women.

Most of the time, I wasn't what they were looking for. 

I hope none of the women I'm going to write about, feel offended in any way. (Obviously, I'm not going to reveal their real names. But if you know me a little bit, you easily will find who they really are.) 

Music is so important to me. 

I would be some sort of mentally ill guy if music did not exist. 

Music has been my most loyal companion. 

It's like a volatile tiny little girl.  

All the songs I'm going to write about are electrical transmitters of deep emotions. 

Dunno exactly why, but surely they will have been stored in my brain and they will come to the outside in some strange way. Some of them will eventually cut my throat. 

These songs I will write about, surely have made me (or will make me) feel extremely happy, angst, mad or sad. These songs will be my greatest hope at some apparently hopeless periods. 

I'll write about the way they provoke me and what kind of memories they remind me of. 

All the posts I'm going to publish will be based on dreaming. 

Reality sucks most of the time. 

Everything seems to be an appearance. 

Money seems to be the ultimate product of evolution. 

I hate that people be so simple and silly.  

They are the worst enemy of the world. 

Effortlessly, they seem to believe what do you do and what do you care about, only if you keep yourself telling them all the time what do you do and what do you care about. 

Even if you tell them all these things out of nowhere. 

It's exhausting. 

I don't find a reason to tell you every time that I like to write since I was born. 

I don't think you need to know if I play guitar since I was 14 years old. 

I don't believe you want to know if I'm caucasian or a neuroscientist fighting in the Third World, or just a guy with some sort of pathological attraction to loneliness. 

I don't consider important to speak you about the authors I love and what kind of novels I enjoy nor how many books I read each month. 

But it's pretty annoying when someone, that supposedly knows me, starts to assume that I don't even like music just because I don't speak of Mozart or Beethoven... or that I don't really like music 'cause I haven't experienced how it is to play an instrument... or that I'm not a scientist 'cause I never presume my academic achievements.  

Music, literature and science are my interests.

I know that I should be passionate about science in the first place, but sometimes it seems that technology is most important than research questions.  

It is common to read a paper of the top three scientific journals and to forget about the point, due to the exacerbated quantity of control experiments required by these journals and due to the sophisticated explanations that authors have to give on the sophisticated techniques they employ. 

Methodology is pretty important, but it should be a tool to shed some light on physiological phenomena. It shouldn't be the phenomenon.  

Also, it is devastating the way people in general think about science. 

They seem to believe in science exclusively when someone tells them that an apparently serious scientific study showed that laziness, grumpiness and egocentrism are related to intelligent and successful people.  

Or they simply confound science with technology. 

Or they simply employ Albert Einstein's quote ("I believe in God...") to argue that science and religion are not on different paths... even if they haven't read Baruch Spinoza and so they do not know what kind of God was the one Einstein spoke about. 

The worst of everything is that they lie and sin, and that they believe that we all are the same and that we all should be frightened, tempted and punished by the same demons and gods. 

They could quote Charles Bukowski to speak about psychoanalysis or Aristotle to speak about networking coaching. 

They're amazing, in a real bad way.  

In this period of my life I barely have the opportunity to enjoy music (I hope it eventually changes), 'cause I have too many papers to read and to write and too many things to do. 

I always wanted to be in a garage punk band -I suppose I have never tried to do it fiercely- and all the music I listen up its related to this genre.

Currently, I just listen up a few bands like Sonic Youth, Mudhoney, Melvins, Dinosaur Jr., Screaming Trees, Soundgarden, Pearl Jam, Butthole Surfers, Nirvana... 

From a few months until now, I have been listening to some bands I know I will eventually stop listening to.  

The Cure (Pornography and Wish are awesome records), Siouxsie & The Banshees (what kind of dark and beautiful post punk songs they played!), The Doors (despite they were more into the hippie 70's vibe, they have really awesome songs, lyrically and musically), Jimi Hendrix (I'm not sure if he was really the awesome guitarist people talk about, but definitely he was a rock n' roll artist ahead of his time) and The Rolling Stones (they're just as legendary as The Beatles!) 

I'm not gonna lie: I'm not a big fan of The Beatles nor of Bob Dylan; I prefer Neil Young, Mark Lanegan and Kurt Cobain.

(Did I mention that I'm left-handed and that I play guitar? 

Heart-shaped box is by far one of the funniest songs to play I have ever learned. She Loves You and I Want To Hold Your Hand are fun to play, too.

Nirvana is the band I hear almost all the time.

Despite he is one of the musicians I feel more attracted to, my goal it's not to play guitar like Kurt Cobain. 

I think his music was about to turn into blues and folk. He seemed to be bored of the Nirvana formula. I'm pretty sure he would have recorded albums like Mark Lanegan has done since he quit Screaming Trees.) 

I always wanted to have a job in which all I had to do was to read and to write.  

If I found a job like that, I would live in Paradise.

At the time I'm posting this, I'm a meaningless scientist and a meaningless writer. 

I hope it will change in a few years. I'm working on that. 

I would like to have enough guts to make a better life in another country, but I'm afraid I'm scared to make it.

I cannot stop thinking in all the pros and cons, especially in the cons. 

(Is it a disease? Am I too pessimistic?) 

By the way, English is not my native language -you can check it out my EGOTECA-, but I find it pretty fun to write on English... besides, I hate when people lie about their language' skills. 

Thus, METASTASIS OF SOUND is some sort of testimony of my English' language skills.

Maybe someday I will need to test that I'm really able to write on this astonishing rhythmic language.  

I invite you to read my posts while you listen to the song I will write about. 

Dear reader, this is the aim of this blog. 

I'm pretty sure you're gonna read it when I die.