Endless Lover, Butterfly

It was a rainy day and I was really bored, when I met Valentina. Her band played in an improvised bar, located a blocks away from El Estadio Azteca. The audience was preposterous, full of drunk teenagers asking for more tequila and mariachi. They were not the kind of audience interested in listening live music; they were more the kind of audience interested in getting as drunk as possible, while fooling around and looking for kisses.  

The bar was awful, and it looked like a house converted into a bar. It reminded me of the kind of places that the guys in high school used to visit, when they felt small adults trapped in infantile bodies.

My brother and his band played that evening, too. Both bands were at the beginning of their careers. Nos Llamamos rehearsed every single day and I knew all of their songs, 'cause they rehearsed in the house where I lived. Sometimes I hated them 'cause I couldn't even read or study, or even take a nap in the middle of the day. 

I loved their music -they sounded like Sonic Youth-, but they were too noisy and I couldn't focus on anything else when they rehearsed. I was at home the most of the time, and I couldn't avoid their rehearsals. I was a recent graduated student, and I was sick of the research I had performed for getting my bachelor's degree. I was also exhausted of a long relationship that I'd had for almost five years. I was purifying myself from sick love and a destructive relationship. I hated myself and I wanted to change my life, but indeed I just wasted my time. 

Candy's music was something between pop and punk. They didn't sound too different from Joy Division. Not only bass lines sounded at the core of every song, but the bassist was amazing. Valentina attracted me immediately. I fell in love with her when I saw her playing her Fender Precision Bass. I felt dumb, and I started to imagine stories in which we were a couple, staring at each other completely stoned, or traveling together around the city, and so on. I also started to imagine the things she liked and the way she lived every single day. 

I just woke up from a weird dream. I was inside a Van with Nos Llamamos and Candy. I couldn't stop watching Valentina. Her face was full of beautiful and small freckles and her lips were bigger than I remember. They seemed to scream "Kiss me, kiss me!", but she looked a little bit uncomfortable and tried to avoid eye contact with me. 

We arrived to a small bar, and there I told her that I wanted to take her a picture with me, and, out of nowhere, she said that she just had read my blog and that she didn' t know all the bands that I had written about on it. It seemed to me, that we already knew each other. 

She took a deep breath and continued: "Oh, I would do the same, if I had a blog...", and I didn't understand what was the point. 

She agreed to be photographed by me, but asked me to do it soon, 'cause her band had to leave the bar earlier than expected.

When she said all of these words, she was kinda frightened and nervous. Then, she walked away to play with her band, and, Aarón, the guitarist of Nos Llamamos started to make jokes about my romantic interest in Valentina, suggesting that I was so crazy about her that I would do anything for her. I told him it was a stupid thought, 'cause it looked like Valentina was indeed more interested in me than vice versa. 

It was a dream, obviously, and I felt more confident than I really do.

At the end of the dream, Valentina was in front of me in a small table. We were in some kind of coffee shop. She had just said good bye to the guys of her band, and seemed really interested in talking with me. She still looked somehow frightened and nervous. I was just wondering why the hell she had read my blog, and I was considering that maybe she just wanted to complaint about it. 

Maybe once I had written something awful about her band, and I didn't remember at all.

As we started to speak, I was very cold. I wanted to move to another table, 'cause we were on a terrace and the wind was blowing heavily. Then, she looked at me and told me that her band was looking for a guitarist and that she knew that I played guitar, too. Before I asked her if she was inviting me to make an audition for her band, I watched her blue eyes and her lips and I wanted to kiss her. 

Then, I woke up. I was really very cold, and  I hated to have an organic dream.

What if, actually, she really read my blog?

Love Myself Better Than You

A month ago, I was sick. Thursday morning, I had an interview outside the city. I woke up early that day. I was nervous, but fine. Basically, I had to speak about my own research to some peers. Every time I have to do something like this, I feel anxious and kind of stressed. The interview happened as I expected, I felt smart enough, but immediately, as I took the car to return to the city, I started to sneeze, as If I just got the flu. My eyes watered all the time. I could not breathe at all. I had a headache, and I was, from one minute to another, surprisingly weak. I had a meeting in the evening -a celebration for the year that it is about to finish-, and I really wanted to go, but at that point I felt so sick that all I was able to do, was to rest in bed.

I had a terrible night. My nose was full of snot all the time, and I started to have sore throat. All night long I was feeling bad, and I could not sleep at all. I did not want to be as sick as I was a month ago. At the beginning, I thought it was a sort of allergie, but after that terrible night, I was convinced I was about to become ill, again.

The physician told me that maybe it was an allergie, but also that it might be possible that my immune system is a disaster. As I leave the city a morning before, I was close to a nurse, and all the week I was close to a guy who got the flu. Damm it. It is possible that I was stressed enough to ignore the illness, but as I stopped being stressed the illness came out. 

I have spent the last three days in bed, and now I feel better but weak. I still cannot breathe completely well. I cough terribly once in a while. I have experiments to do, and I am afraid to get worse if I leave my house and expose myself to pollution. The last time I was sick, I was in bed for almost two weeks. 

via GIPHY

I really hate most people. Most of them are irresponsible, when they cough and sneeze freely without any precaution. They do not seem to give a fuck if they infect someone else. On the other hand, it is amazing that viruses run freely in the wind. They are invisible, but could be letal. People fears of God, but they should be afraid of Nature. 

I am so fragile -my health is so fragile- that I cannot stop thinking why does it seem too damn difficult to wear a scarfe or anything else to cover up your mouth when you are fucking sick.

On A Plain (Unplugged)

On A Plain (Nevermind)

I See You Shaking In The Light, Reading The Headline News

On December 4th, it was 6 months after my surgery. It has been a very low recovery. I've been nauseating and weak most of the time. Sometimes, I'm just tired of eating the same food everyday and avoiding anything else I like.

Physicians have told me to be patient. And warned me to not drink alcohol -or to do any other drug- in excess, ever again. Supposedly, I also have a weird heart condition and I can't smoke anymore. It's easy for them, to ask me things like that. But I cannot even drink a cup of coffee, neither eat a cheesecake nor bacon, without becoming ill.

I don't believe in God, so praying is not an option to ignore my  disease. I still don't have kids, so becoming a daddy it's not an option for getting better. I just like things that put me sad, like literature and music. I used to enjoy to be alone, but now it's sort of a hell. I try to do all the things I like, and that I'm able to do, as much as possible, but sometimes it is frustrating to feel nauseating in the middle of a reading or while I am listening music.

I love to hear live music. Sometimes I still feel ill in the middle of a show, too. And it sucks. Sometimes, when I write, I'm so sick that I cannot stop writing about anything but illnesses. When I read, I try to not focus on melancholy. But it's impossible.

Anyway, on Sunday 4th, I went to a show. Lee Ranaldo was about to play with another musicians in Mexico City. They formed a band to play live music for Georges Méliès' short films. Sonic Youth is one of my favorite bands, so I couldn't miss the opportunity to hear Lee Ranaldo's live music, again.

Before the show, in the mezzanine of the Auditorio Blackberry, I bought Acoustic Dust and The Rising Tide and when I did it, a guy told me that Lee would signed up some albums shortly after the show. I didn't think of it a lot, but as I was just right in front of Lee when he played, I was determined to make him to signed up one of the albums I bought.

When the show finished, I was so nervous. Lee is one of my favorite musicians, and I couldn't believe it would be possible to get close to him in order to get his autograph. I really love his music and his lyrics, and I can't say anymore.

In a few minutes, the mezzanine was full of guys looking for a photo with Lee and I thought that I couldn't even get closer to him. It was a little bit chaotic, and I had to get rid of some guys.

I realized Lee was asking their names to the fans, so I got even more nervous. When I arrived close to him, I was shaking. So, to avoid a confusion, I told him "I'm Marcel, like Proust..." and he smiled and told me "Like Duchamp, too"

My wife took the photographs, and Lee was a very nice guy. I still can't believe it.

Wish Fulfillment