Tuesday, January 18, 2011

Your Innocence Is Treasure, Your Innocence Is Death

She was just a girl, she talked just like a girl, she thought just like a girl, but she looked like a woman.
I tried to focus in her brown little eyes, but couldn't avoid staring at her neckline. Her gaze was deleterious and impressive, owlish. For a time, I was crazy about her. And I felt like a pervert.


She wanted me to make her my girl, she talked me everyday, she asked me to see her anytime, but I didn't want to get in the middle of a relationship with someone younger than me. Then, her ex-boyfriend appeared and she got involved with him again, and I regretted all those single moments when she stared at me and asked me to not look at her. She was nervous when I looked at her.


Later, she just simply got bored and I suffered my incapacity to date someone 10 years younger than me.

All Dried Up And Tied Up Forever



I was 18 years old, and I liked you a lot 
You were so pretty and smart and older than me
I wanted to meet you so bad
You practiced yoga and you were a professional dancer

I was just a stupid boy listening to Antichrist Superstar
And pretending to be interested in the things that mattered to you

I just wanted to learn from your lifestyle and that's why I lied
That very first time I spoke to you, when I told you that I liked The Beatles

We spoke for hours and you gave me your telephone number
We looked face to face all the time and your eyesight was so intense
I was so exhausted but happy


For a couple of weeks, I thought you looked like Mila Kunis
And later I decided to call you up on the telephone
It was a shiny Thursday, and I was so nervous and excited

Your voice appeared suddenly, and I felt about to have a heart-attack 
You were sleepy and exhausted, and I knew you had anemia

I had to smoke a cigarette to get rid of my nerves

We agreed to see Heavenly Creatures that very afternoon
But I didn't find you at the movie theater and I had to watch the movie alone

Later, as we walked on the street and we discussed about Peter Jackson's movie,
You laughed and asked me "What do you exactly expect from me?"


We talked on the telephone for almost six months, and I fall in love with you

There was another guy in your life, but you felt comfortable with me

I was listening up I'll be your lover, I'll be forever, I am anything when I'm high
When you call me again, and you told me you wanted us to be more than friends
And I couldn't believe it

From on time to another, we were dating each other, but it didn't work out
I used to be as stupid and unsecure as possible, and you got tired of it
Then you left the city to pursue your dancer career, and we started to write letters

Sometimes you came to the city and we sometimes we met, but it was different

So we are strangers now

Thursday, January 28, 2010

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]