The sky is cotton candy

You appeared out of nowhere. In my dream I knew you, I knew your name, you were a student, and I was looking for something in a box, the box looked more like a wooden chair than a box and it was painted in blue. The wooden chair was placed at the desk, the desk was some sort of operating room. I was pretty focused in this sort of mental surgery.

We were inside a classroom, it was cold and pale. Lights were the kind of dim lights you'd find in an operating room. The day was so cold and cloudy. It was the end of a class. Students were leaving the classroom.

Accidentally I found a letter inside the box, and it was a letter from you, I knew your name, I pronounced it in my dream, our eyes met for a moment, you smiled. The letter was written on a white sheet of paper, had some paintings and a cryptic message, it looked like the artwork for Incesticide, Nirvana's B-sides album published in 1992, and the message implied that you were in love with me. 

I woke up and I don't know who you are. I forgot your name. This song hits my brain.

«I got my diddly spayed!»

«I got my diddly spayed!»

«I got my diddly spayed!»

Before going to bed I came to the studio, the cats knocked some things out of the closet and I picked them up and the situation reminded me of an Incesticide T-shirt I own. It's really nice, but I hardly ever wear it, it's too big for me. But the dream is not about a T-shirt. Or about you. You could be anyone. 

Maybe it's not that at all. 

Maybe it's that I'm getting old and it's about me returning to this elite university where it all began. Maybe it's that I'll find students like I did back in 2004 but I'll be older and I'll be mentally sterile.

Seems To Me Time Was, Little Bit As Complicated Then

«Yes, it's him», she said. And she was sitting in her chair, in front of her computer, in the office that both of you shared at that time, a thousand years ago, before the storm, before the earthquake, before the apocalypse..., when you were ill and tired of dealing with your health issues. 

She looked at you, and you listened up and you thought what kind of life was her life, and what kind of life was your life. You really hated your life. Everyday was an inner war for you. And she used to be happy, her husband was still alive and they were a pretty happy couple, and she was smart, strong and absolutely amazing at his job.

And her eyes were like almonds and her face was white and pink, and her hair was long and it had a strange shiny color, between black and brown. You sort of had a crush on her. While she spoke –«Yes, it's him»–, you couldn't stop feeling attracted to her lips, and you wanted to kiss them and to devour her tongue, and you desired to touch her face and her hair, and to hold her hands –to loss your mind in the brief glimpse of her nails–, and to look at her almond eyes forever.

She referred to another researcher and one of the undergrads of this researcher. Three or four antibodies had been lost and the lab had run out of budget. 

Suddenly, she shut up. This researcher entered the office. And it was awkward. 

And this happened a thousand years ago, but you remember it right now 'cause she appeared out of nowhere in your dream. You were inside a van, someone drove you up to an academic event. Apparently, both of you had been invited to give a conference. You didn't know what the hell would you speak about, but you didn't care.

She had a guitar and she said that she admired Izzy Stradlin, and you started to teach her how to play “Seems To Me”, her guitar was not a left-handed guitar, so it was not easy for you.

Then she said that Izzy was the brain of Guns N' Roses, and you felt so impressed. You agreed with her, and you felt so happy. At last, both of you had something in common!

And it is Saturday, and it's Izzy's birthday and it's also the 29th anniversary of the discovery of Kurt Cobain's corpse in the Green House of his mansion in Lake Washington, and you don't know why did she appear in your dream. And you write about it. 

And you are a moron and you wait for her to read what you just wrote in this blog.

 

I'm So Excited, I Can't Wait To Meet You There

As the quietly room is occupied by cats and sunlight and street sounds and wildlife, I start to forget you. Before the soft and blue substance of these thoughts vanished, I will make my best to maintain you on this secret spot I have been building for the last decade. 

I just can't ignore this calm that invades me. I just can't ignore this atmosphere. It smells like freshly washed sheets and it evokes several cozy ideas on me. It makes me feel like a stupid teenager. It makes me close my eyelids and to travel miles away from my real life.

I almost see myself from my inside.

We are in 1999. 

I'm walking to the swimming pool. 
My parents decided to bring us to these cabins in Cuernavaca.
It's the first time we spend a weekend in this place. 
I can't tell how they find it out, but it's a nice place. 

There are soccer fields and basketball and tennis courts. 
There are twenty or thirty cabins, next to a forest.
There is also a restaurant.  

A few hours ago, we played a soccer game with some tourists. 
We were giving them up a ridiculous beating. 
They were so stupid to play soccer. Most of them were fat and clumsy. 
A moron didn't tolerate the humiliation. He hit the soccer ball so hard that it made my dad bled. I hated him. I'm thinking on revenge.   

I've been also playing tennis with one of my brothers. 
I didn't remember how much I enjoy to play tennis. I even used to watch tennis matches on TV when I was a kid, instead of watching cartoons. I guess female tennis players attracted me. I loved the way the air made their skirts flew thru the court as they ran to hit the ball with the racket. I also loved the shapes of their firm legs. It also surprised me that women seemed fragile and quiet, but they could be so strong and they could scream violently. 

I'm thinking that I barely have the opportunity to play tennis. I think it sucks. 

I'm kind of pissed off. I would have preferred to stay home. 
I have realized that I just find it awkward to be surrounded by my family. 
It's not like our last holidays. We even brought our small nephew with us. He's four years old and seems to be the only really happy one. 

I love my family, but I just don't feel OK. 
I'm just a teenager, pretending to act like an adult. 

The university is on a strike since April. It is a disaster. The last time I went to see how it was goin' –some of my classmates and a few hundred other students, are “taking care” of the facilities–, the School of Psychology was a hotel and the Central Library was a dinning room. The entire Ciudad Universitaria was a dump surrounded by cyclonic mesh. 

It was so creepy. 

Nobody knows it, but it's a pretty stressful situation for me. I'm lost. I'm worried. I'm depressed. The only thing I do, is to be a student. I'm such a coward. 

Why haven't I just looked for a job, to keep my mind busy...? 

I've been obsessively thinking on the uncertainty of my academic future. 
I've been supposedly reinforcing my History of Psychology lessons, but, to be honest, I just cannot tell you about a single topic. I have had difficulties to learn. 

I also have been reading Dante Alighieri's most famous book and I just have had difficulties to enjoy it. I've been daydreaming with my own Beatrice and I've been suffering my own private hell. 

What would happen if I dared to give a 180° turn to my life...?

I could work on Mix up, I could work as a waiter on a coffee shop, if I really wanted to. 
I'm so apathetic. I'm so pathetic. I just can't quit my comfort zone. 

Besides daydreaming with the sudden appearance of my own Beatrice, I read 19th century writers, I write 19th century like-poems and weep and complain.  

The sun rays irradiate my childish body as I walk to the swimming pool.  

“I'm so excited, 

I can't wait to meet you there...”

sings Kurt Cobain inside my head, as my heart beats so hard. 

Though it is the calm part of the song, I'm sure that my heart sounds louder than Dave Grohl's drums and that Kurt Cobain's Jaguar on the noisy part of the song. 

My most precious treasures are an old Aiwa walkman, my headphones and my small collection of cassettes. This time, obviously, I'm listening Lithium. 

Music is so important to me. Nirvana has accompanied me since I started senior high school. It has been sort of a cursed. I am stuck in the past. I know I should listen to different genres and to listen different bands (alive ones?), but even though I have tried, it just hasn't work. 

I've been trying to listening No Code, too. I can't tell exactly why there is something about Eddie Vedder I dislike. This album seems so 1995. 
  
I have a crush. I'm almost sure that I will find you in the swimming pool, like I did the first time I saw you. I'm really excited. 

Suddenly, my legs start to shake.  

Though I don't even remember your face, I feel so enthusiastic about seeing you again.

A few days later, I watched a soccer game on TV. 
Our national team won its most relevant tournament so far. 
The Mexican players beat up Brazil in an exciting game. A young player named Ronaldinho was on the field. TV commentators said he was the next star of Brazilian soccer. He's nineteen years old, or so. 

At the time of the game, it was raining. It had been a hot day. 
At a moment, before the soccer game, I was so bored that I went to swim.

And then I saw you.  

You had a black swimwear. Your natural way of behaving left me breathless. 
You looked so gorgeous. Your brown long hair floated on the water like a living miracle defying the laws of gravity. I would like to write an elaborated thought about each component of your beauty, but I would be a liar. I have to admit it. I couldn't ignore your breasts. They made me feel weak and strong at the same time. 

Immediately, I dove into the water to hide my excitement.
I sort of swim to get close to you. You were swimming, too. 

At a moment, as we stopped swimming, we made eye contact. 
It could be for a second, but it felt like eternity. 

I believed you smiled and waited for me to speak to you.
I sensed it, in the very same way I sensed it in those girls in junior high school I kissed. 

Despite all our efforts to make it clear that we own a neocortex, we're still mammals. 
Our brain has evolved, but we still need water and food, to survive. Our brain has evolved, but we still need sex to perpetuate our specie. Our brain has evolved, but we still have to cut it off when we're starved, no matter if we have to interrupt our most sophisticated cognitive abilities. Hormones, olfaction and sight remind us that we are still animals. It's hard to be exempt from our nature.  

Of course, I didn't speak to you. 
 
                              

Though I barely saw you then, I couldn't stop thinking about you. I have felt like a confused young, like I think of Marcel Proust when he wrote how he idealized mysterious women on his vacations on Balbec. 

(In fact, as I am pounding the keyboard and trying to capture you on this secret spot, I see myself as the main character of In the shadow of young girls in flower.)

Since that hot day, your presence has been haunting me. 

I closed my eyelids this morning, while I was in the shower. 
I had impure thoughts about you. I also thought about your eyes and your beautiful hair floating in the swimming pool. Yesterday, as I fell asleep, I started to have hypnagogic hallucinations on which you allowed me to watch your naked breasts behind that black swimwear. It was so exciting. The images left me breathless. For a second, as I woke up, I had no reasons to consider that dreams aren't better than life. 

I finally arrive to the swimming pool. 
I sit in a chair, a few steps from the water.
I sense on my face the reflection of the summer sun diving into the water.  
My lungs are penetrated by the singular smell of chlorine. 
I'm so happy. 

I turn on the volume of the walkman. I focus on Kurt Cobain's voice. I focus on Dave Grohl's cymbals and snare drum. I focus on Krist Novoselic's bass. 

I take a deep breath. 
I look for you. 

There you are. 

Lithium

July 23rd, 1993

I'm listening to this show. 
It's hard to realize that it was recorded 26 years ago, on July 23rd, 1993. 

It is surrounded by stories. 

Supposedly, Kurt Cobain overdosed before the show. 
As far as I remember, Krist Novoselic has confirmed it. 

Supposedly, MTV recorded the entire show. 
At least, several clips of the show –including excerpts of Scentless Apprentice, Milk It, Come As You Are and Lithium– appeared soon after, regularly on MTV. 

Fans have been waiting for an official release of this show. 
Paramount Theatre, Reading Festival and Live & Loud –three of the long awaited shows of the short career of Nirvana– were finally released after 30 years or so. 

Rumors about official releases of Hollywood Rock Festival (1993) and Paradiso (1991) appear on almost every Nirvana Fanbase on the internet. 
They seem to be just rumors.

Though From The Muddy Banks Of The Wishkah (1997) includes some rad versions of the most famous songs of the band in soundboard quality and though Krist Novoselic personally listened to entire shows and then selected a bunch of songs –supposedly, he even traded shows on the internet with fans–, it's unlikely that someday, some of these shows be available on its entirety as official releases for fans.  

I hope to be wrong. 

How would it be to have an official Roseland Ballroom release...?
How would it be to have an official release of Nirvana's last show in Seattle, four months before Kurt Cobain's corpse had been found on the greenhouse at his home in Lake Washington...?

On the internet, it's easy to find out several versions of the Roseland Ballroom show. 
Most of them were recorded with lo fi devices. 
People who attended to it, say it was a really intense show. 

Nirvana was about to release In Utero. 
Does anyone imagined that it would be their last studio album...?

The band had recently declared that they refused to make songs in the style of the multi-awarded Nevermind. 
They even had hired Steve Albini and they were so happy with the rough sound of In Utero.

Fans and media were starved for another Nirvana record and they were so impressed by the new songs.  

The recording of the upcoming album was also surrounded by stories. 

Supposedly, Geffen executives didn't like the original album version and so they forced Nirvana to hire Scott Litt to re-arranged a couple of songs –All Apologies, Pennyroyal Tea and Heart-shaped box... 

Supposedly, Radio Friendly Unit Shifter was the way the band made the audience to notice the censure of the record company they were forced to deal with.  

On this show, Nirvana played several songs of In Utero –Very Ape, Milk It, Scentless Apprentice, tourette's... – and they even invited John "Big" Duncan to the stage, to play a few songs as a second guitarist. 

Pat Smear was still not part of the band, but Kurt Cobain had spoken about the need to have a second guitarist to the rest of the band. 

John "Big" Duncan then was the guitar tech of Kurt Cobain. 

Duncan was so close to the leader of Nirvana that he recently has told to the media that Kurt was about to change from Stratocaster to Telecaster and that he wasn't really satisfied with the sound of the Jagstang that Fender had customized for him.  

I'm listening to an incomplete version of the Roseland Ballroom show, but it has soundboard quality. 
It includes excerpts of Scentless Apprentice and Rape Me.
It also includes Blew, School, Aneurysm, Come As You Are, Breed, Lithium and Drain You.

The picture I uploaded to this post, reminds me of one of the volumes of the Outcesticide collection that was illegally released soon after Kurt Cobain's death. 

I bought a bunch of Outcesticides when I was a teenager.

The one I refer to included the extended crazy version of Scentless Apprentice that Nirvana played in Rio de Janeiro in 1993. 

Today, I'm pretty sad and angst. 

I started to write a novel almost six years ago.
I submitted it to a contest a year ago. 
I submitted it to another contest on April. 

Between contests, I reviewed it several times.
This last time, the reviewing process almost made me crazy.
My entire life was devoted to the novel. 
It became some sort of obsession.
I became obsessive-compulsive to it. 

After a couple of weeks on my new job, the University was closed due to a strike.
The strike lasted for three months and I was broke and trying to deal with it, working as if money didn't matter to me.

I was really desperate and frustrated when I reviewed and re-wrote the novel and so I put all of my feelings on it. It might sound stupid, but I put my heart and my rage on it.

The novel has a solid structure. I worked on it for almost six years.
I've been writing since I was born. It's complicated to explain why I'm not another guy writing and pretending to be outstanding. Sometimes I think I really need to make friends with editors. 

The results of the last contest were announced today. 
A woman with 6K followers on Twitter won the contest. 
She also won another contest on the last years. 
She was also involved on some sort of TV show. 

This contest was meant to be for young writers. 
The last year a guy with a high-level scholarship for writers, won the contest. 
I understood that a "young writer" was more close to describe an "unknown writer" than to describe "a writer with few publications", but, maybe, I'm wrong. 

I just want to make it clear: one way or another, one day I will publish this or another novel. 

April 8th, 1994

Twenty five years ago, Gary Smith –an electrician hired by Courtney Love to put a security system on the Lake Washington house that she and his husband had bought at the beginning of 1994–, found the corpse of Kurt Cobain. 

I made a video on Spanish, about my thoughts related to his death and about the way his music has influenced my life for almost a quarter of a century. 

At some point I will work on an English version.

Runny Nose And Runny Yolk

We're about to leave the city. 

As I'm blogging, my wife is waiting for the moving truck.

The apartment is a disaster. 

There are boxes everywhere.

The cats are so freak out. 

I'm web surfing on a Samsung tablet, sit on an old easychair. 

It's one of the few furnishings available. Everything else is wrapped on plastic.

The first thing I did today was to caugh. 

I feel dizzy and ill. 

In the whole year I never got sick, but I had to get sick precisely now. 

I would like to rest the entire day, but I'll have to be awake. 

Our new house is about an hour and a half from here. 

Things have to be done.
I prefer to be sick right now than to be healthy and unemployed the entire next year.

This is the price I have to pay. 

The last six months I was looking for a better job.

I was about to quit and to give a different direction to my career. 

A month ago, out of nowhere, my boss told me about a potential opportunity. 

We're moving to Lerma. I got a new job. 

It's going to be the best job I ever had. 

It's better to have a sick day than to have a dark future.

In The Someday, What's That Sound? 

Touch Me, I'm Sick

I started to listen Mudhoney in 1995.

It had just came out a bootleg from Nirvana's Reading Festival show.

It included an almost complete soundboard source recorded on August 30, 1992.

Back then Nirvana was the most popular band of what journalists around the world had called the Seattle sound. 

The show started with Kurt Cobain mumbling Some say love is a river... 

It was a cryptic phrase. 
I felt attracted to find out where those strange lyrics came from. 

For months, I didn't know it was the first verse of The Rose. 

I was fifteen years old. 

A friend of mine got The Money Will Roll Right In from the same show, except that it was from an audience source.

Although it was originally performed by The Fang, this song would introduce me to Mudhoney. 

Since my friend and I were interested on having a band, that song drove us wild. 

It sounded like a song really fun to play. 

Back then, it was really difficult to get albums from Seattle's underground scene.

In Mexico City, we barely got albums  from Nirvana or Pearl Jam.
It was almost impossible to get albums from Soundgarden and Alice In Chains.

Imagine how difficult it was to meet someone who had already heard Mudhoney.

On December 5, 2014 they played at El Circo Volador. 

A year ago, they had just released Vanishing Point, their sixth studio album. 

The venue was so small.

It looked like an average small bar from the 90's, like those that appear in the movies or music videos of the time. 

A couple of garage Mexican bands played before Mudhoney. 

The crowd was so enthusiastic.

The band came out and started to play Sonic Infusion. 

As the hypnotic patterns of the guitar went by, the audience started to crowd surfing.

Guy Madisson told us that Mark Arm was ill.

He had sore throat and he often coughed, but it was one of the best shows of my life. 

From the beginning, the audience went crazy.

I particularly remember when they played In N' Out Of Grace. 

Can't take out of my mind Dan Peters' prolonged drum solo, while Mark Arm and Steve Turner seemed so impressed by the surfing crowd. 

The band played almost all the songs I wanted to hear, except Mudride and Suck You Dry. 

That show ended up with The Money Will Roll Right In. 

On these days, it was the 30th anniversary of Touch Me, I'm Sick

It Spins On A Crooked Axis Left It Twitching By The Road

Pentastar: In The Style of Demons was released by Sub Pop on July 23, 1996.

This is the third album of Earth. 

According to some specialized reviewers, it sounds like a mix of drone doom and stoner rock and has a friendlier sound than its predecessors.

This style of heavy metal melds the slow tempos of doom metal with the long-duration notes of drone music, according to Wikipedia.  

I found about this band on 1998, when I saw the morbid documentary Kurt & Courtney.  

Dylan Carlson was among the people interviewed by Nick Broomfield. 

The English film director wanted to know if he had bought the shotgun with which Kurt Cobain supposedly commited suicide. 

Carlson seemed to be under the influence of opiates, he did not seem to think clearly, but he denied it. 

He said that Kurt Cobain didn't have suicidal tendencies and that if it had been the case, he would not have bought him a shotgun.  

Short before this scene, a clip of Tallahasse appeared on the documentary. 

Courtney Love had told several times to the press that Dylan Carlson and her husband were friends, that he had a lot of guns and that he had bought him a shotgun.

(Kurt Cobain had suggested to the press that one verse of In Bloom spoke about Dylan Carlson's interest on guns.)

There was a time when the leader of Nirvana bought guns -he even told to the media that he loved to shooting them-, but once Courtney and he had a fight and she called to the police and accused his husband of family violence and the police confiscated all the firearms found on their house and forbade him to buy more. 

Tom Hansen also suggested that both Kurt Cobain and Dylan Carlson were drug partners. 

He wrote on a passage of American Junkie that he was Kurt Cobain's dealer and that he even sold him drugs the very same day Nirvana played the famous concert MTV's Live N' Loud on Seattle, WA. 

He picked him up with his car a blocks away from Pier 48.
Dylan Carlson accompanied Kurt Cobain and he took the backseat of the car.  

On Soaked In Bleach, Tom Grant -the detective hired by Courtney Love to find her husband when she reported him missing- suggested that Dylan Carlson was involved on Kurt Cobain's murder.

Other journalists have even said that Courtney Love blackmailed Dylan Carlson with drugs, and that she funded the recording of Pentastar: In The Style Of Demons. 

Metal Archives
Sputnik Music

Tallahasse

You Want It All But You Can't Have It

A colleague invited me to teach a class to graduate students, a couple of months ago.

Students were so tired.  
They told me that they had had classes all day long.

He wanted me to speak to them about the most studied receptors and hormones involved in food intake regulation. 

The course was about hormonal pharmacology. 

Another colleague invited me to teach a class to the same graduate students, a week ago. 

She wanted me to speak to them about the basic aspects of food intake regulation with emphasis on the hypothalamus. 

She's so smart and I got nervous. 

Nonetheless, after a few minutes I managed myself. 

We were about to leave the classroom, when a student appeared out of nowhere.

She asked me if I wouldn't give them a musical recommendation.

The first time I spoke to them had coincided with Kurt Cobain's mournful anniversary and at the end of the class it occurred to me to recommend that they listen to his music.

The student looked kind of impatient. 
It's possible that the second class would have bored her. 
Maybe it just sucked. 

She told me about Mike Patton and a band called Mr. Bungle.

I didn't know what the hell she was talking about. 

She said that he was the singer of Faith No More and that he had a band which sounded like Primus.

She said that this band would change my life. 

A just woke up from a confusing dream.

We were sitting in a coffee shop. 

She wore Jim Morrison-style leather pants along with an intense red blouse.
The blouse had a gigantic neckline.

She crossed one leg over the other and lit a cigarette. 

For some reason, I noticed her Doctor Martens boots.
They made think of a woman with which whom I had a murky romance.

(This woman wore the most exclusive and expensive models of the British company.)  

    
As she smoked, I couldn't stop seeing her cleavage. 
It was hypnotic and made me feel dizzy. 
Her breast looked so mysterious and unreachable.  
I felt guilty, morbid, weak and idiot at the same time. 

Suddenly, she said

"Don't you really know Mike Patton?"

pulling me out of my own thoughts. 
  
I felt so stupid that I just smiled at her.

Then, as I asked her for a cigarette, I looked at her face.
As she touched my hand to give me a cigarette, I felt dizzy again. 

I brought the cigarette to my lips and she lit it to me. 

Her eyes looked kind of evil and her skin was so pale. 
Her hair was dyed purple and blue. 
She seemed a vampire. 

As she lit me the cigarette, I could see a tattoo on her forearm.
It was a tattoo resembling Lilith's Star. 

What does this mean?
Should I listen Mr. Bungle?

You Want It All But You Can't Have It

Restless Soul, Enjoy Your Youth

A friend of mine told me about the most recent album of Pearl Jam.

It was the summer 0f 1995, or so, and the album had just came out six months ago. 

He had bought Vitalogy at El Chopo, the most underground market of music at Ciudad de México -you could find out punks and the most unaccessible music, there-, and one day he lent it to me. 

I really loved the music and the fact that it was a pretty recent album. 

All I had heard then was old. Nirvana was my favourite band of all times, but since Kurt Cobain's death it had elapsed one year and the last studio album of the band would be Unplugged In New York. 

It was sad to realize that Nirvana would never play again. 

I had heard Ten and I kinda thought Pearl Jam was the opposite to Nirvana, that they did not have the same anti-commercial attitude of Nirvana, even though they'd just had sued Ticketmaster.

Pearl Jam wanted to be fair with their fans and they hated that Ticketmaster elevated the cost of the tickets for their shows and the fact that the company was the only one able to sell the tickets. 

I had read alot of interviews in which Kurt Cobain expressed his animadversion to Eddie Vedder. He said Vedder was a fake guy and he hated that Vedder pretended to be a nice guy with a high social consciousness, but I think it was more related to the fact that Kurt Cobain saw a bad reflection of himself in Eddie Vedder. 

  

I was really touched by the album, when I met a girl named Nancy. 

She was younger than me and she looked really beautiful and happy.

She was blonde and overweight. 

Except for her overweight, she looked like a girl I felt in love with when I was in elementary school. 

Veronica was from Aguascalientes and she was a tiny girl and the blondiest girl I ever met.  

Veronica left elementary school so soon -her family went back to Aguascalientes- and I couldn't get close to her.

Nancy had a sister and they used to wear the same clothes. 

It was pretty funny 'cause one day Nancy wore the clothes that her sister wore the day before, and so on.

I spoke to her once and asked her if we could meet. She did not understand why, but was nice and agreed. I realized she had green eyes, just like Veronica, and I felt so happy.

Obviously I wanted to make her my girlfriend. 

via GIPHY

We spoke several times, but soon it became pretty evident that I was not attractive to her. 

I don't even remember in what she was interested on, nor what we talked about.

I just remember that I gave her away a cassette with my favourite songs and that she started to hang out with and older guy who was some sort of dealer in the school.

We has so old, that he was a bearded guy. I always suspected he was "un porro" -a term we use in México to refer to the guys that the autorithies of the schools buy to get rid of troubles with the real students-, but I have to accept that he was also a pretty good looking guy and that alot of girls were crazy about him.

Sometimes he played football or basketball, but he sucked.

He was very clumsy. 

One day, I was having a good time with Nancy and he suddenly appeared and stared at me with a very hostile look.  

Later that day, I was in the high school gym watching a basketball game. 

It supposed to be an important game, between the school team and its worst enemy, or something like that, and this guy was sort of controlling the crowd -as I mentioned, he was kind of an employee of the school authorities- and someone in the crowd pushed me and I fell  on the floor of the court, just a millimeters away from him.

He was sitting but got up immediately and looked at me with his characteristic hostile look.

Dunno why I felt so strong and angst -maybe 'cause he was dating Nancy- and I stared at him with a very hostile look, to. 

He approached me, walking like the rough guys of Michael Jackson's Bad music video, and I just told him:

Are you sure, you want to have troubles?  

Dunno where that sentence came from.

Obviously I was not looking for a fight. 

My words surprised him and he pretended that one of his friends calmed him and he went back to his place in the high school gym.

via GIPHY

While doing it, he persisted in staring at me with his hostile look.

I felt stupid and contagious, and, since we were a teenage crowd in a high school gym, I thought it had just been pretty similar to the Smells Like Teen Spirit video of Nirvana.   

It was so cool and dumb, but funny. 

Every time I hear Vitalogy -and particularly, Not For You-, I almost smell the parfum of Nancy's blonde hair and wonder why would she think about me right now. 

Would she still believe that I am not enough for her?

This Is Not For You!!!