Give any one species too much rope and they'll fuck it up
-Roger waters
Hello my dear blog-ees! Que tal?
I have been here 4 moons. Time she passes quickly. Rapidamente. Fucking fast.
This was a holiday week: May 1 and 2. Weird week.
NINETEEN EIGHTY-FOUR
I saw Patricia on Wed. (Miercoles) night. She was pretty icy. Strange chick. All because of that misunderstanding, i guess.
The following are actual quotes from Patrica on May 2, 2007, recorded between the hours of 11:00 PM and 1:07 AM on May 3rd.
I don't like my hair, i think it's too yellow.
I have Saturday off. Yes, I already have plans.
Kristen looks like Che Guevera.
He (Jay) can't understand Spanish.
I understand how being blown off works. I don't understand why she died her hair with blonde highlights. Maybe that's what she did on Tuesday when she was done cutting herself on the inner thigh. I don't like people to talk smack about Kristen, but she can handle herself (She wanted to kick box Patricia's ass when I told her).
However, nobody, and I mean NOBODY disses my Spanish. I soon after said good-bye, walked Comet Girl (my friend Haley - another teacher) to the Metro, and went home.
I showed her too. We were all at Aeria. These two skinny Spanish guys (queens - I'm sure) heard us speak English. They were with a gal from San Fran and started talking to us. I used a Spanish phrase (I guess) and they were like "You speak Spanish?"
"Un poquito" I said.
That's when Patricia ran her smack about my Spanish. I then proceeded to talk to them in Spanish for maybe ten minutes, with some English thrown in for extra flava.
The next day I 1984'ed her ass. I made her an "unperson" and erased her from the annals of history: my cell phone.
See you in hell, bitch. I'm done with psychopaths.
MUSICA PARA MIS OJETAS
Have listened to both the new Rush and Porcupine Tree albums. Both these groups take repeated listening just to figure out what the hell is going on. I like them both so far.
RUSH - Snakes and Arrows
Rush sounds closer to modern King Crimson with every album. It's very layered and sonic and benefits from head phones. 3 instrumentals! Oh joy oh rapture! Hope is a 2 minute acoustic Alex piece. I like what I have heard so far. As opposed to Vapor Trails, this one has keyboards, used pretty well, I'd say.
PORCUPINE TREE - Fear of a Blank Planet
Sprawling and jagged, yet textured and beautiful. This is a band pretty much at their peak, like Rush in the late 70's - early 80's. Great stuff.
MAYDAY!
May 1 is International Workers Day. There were demonstrations that turned into riots very quickly in this one neighborhood. Three groups protested: Communists, Socialists and the Anarchists. A lot of people were hurt and they put up triage centers and makeshift medical tents. Over 60 people were injured.
That night, Stuart, Kristen and I met Laura and her posse at Aeria. Stuart hardly goes out and wanted to go dancing at 3:30 when Aeria closed. I said sure - i still had the energy to boogie and take in some eye candy.
We walked from Chueca to Sol and were on Gran Via (10 minute walk). This was away from the riot area. There were police blocking of certain roads and just standing around as a presence. We heard a couple of bangs, which we thought were fireworks, and the occassional assholes running.
We were up on Gran Via when two big paddy wagons roll across Gran Via from a side street. They're about to block our way and their in full riot gear, even the face shields down. We go to the corner to cross Gran Via and get out of their way.
The cops then crossed the street towards us and start yelling. Whatever it was, it was unitelligable (I know all the words for 'go' and 'move on' and 'get the fuck out of here'). They were very fucking angry. We both raised our hands.
"Yo soy Irlanda," Stuart said. (I'm from Ireland).
"Habla ingles." (Speak English, or we are English speakers).
This one little sawed-off cop yells something unitelligable. I don't know what it was, but I saw the hate in his eyes. We back up. I don't know if the hate was because we spoke English or because he had bad hemoroids. He swung his baton towards my left leg.
"Oh shit," I thought. "Here comes that broken hip I didn't think I'd see til I was 67."
That second took forever. His eyes were bright with rage and malice. We had done nothing. I'll never forget that look. Blind malevolence.
"You wreckless chicken-shit...," I thought, "..That you're so willing to do me possible irrevocable physical harm . You're a disgrace."
I swung my left arm down to block the baton. Instinct. Better to break an arm then have your vital organs busted. The night stick hit me in the side of the leg and my ass. It hurt, but there was no explosion of pain.
"Hey hey, que paso!" we screamed.
He hit me again.
Stuart is a rugby player: 6'3, 190, with like 3 percent body fat. He was ready to throw down when they hit me.
But these guys had shields, night sticks, guns, face shields, etc.
I looked up at Stuart and gave him the eye. "This is a fight we can't win, boy. Walk away. Live to fight another day." He desisted.
I guess they wanted us to run, maybe. We backed up and started to jog away. Luckily, the baton was just a rubber thing. It was like and industrial strength fly swatter.
A few guys screaming obscenities (Hijo de puta!) ran by us and another bunch of cops in yellow riot gear caught up with us two blocks later. We were halfway down the street when they blocked it off. We turned around. They were firing blanks into the air. I walked over to the sidewalk near buildings for some cover. Stuart brazenly kept to the middle of the street. We both agreed we shouldn't run as we hadn't done anything and didn't want to look guilty. There was an enormous bang. Then an "OW" followed by a cackling laugh, "You fucking pussies! They shot me!" he said. Then he laughed.
"What?" It was all shadows and I couldn't see much.
"They shot me with a plastic bullet!"
Hoder! Plastic bullets are no laughing matter. They can kill you just like lead ones when they strike the right place.
"Wait. I think I see it!" He runs. "Yes. I got it. Woo hoo!"
I was utterly confused. He sound okay, though. And then he showed me the bullet that was the size of a tennis ball. It was hard and yellow and looked like a hockey ball, made not to bounce.
And that's how I knew he was alright.
The Metro was shut and there was no chance of getting a taxi with the riot going on, so we went to a club til the Metro reopened at 6AM.
It turns out that the we were in a different riot. Ours involved a bunch of youths that were drinking beer outside in a park near the Tribunal Metro. They were protesting the 'botella' law, prohibiting you from drinking beer outside.
People still do it all the time. It's just that these kids haven't caught on that it's you attract a lot more attention when there are 500 of you.
So they sent in the cops to break it up.
It was so obvious Stuart and I were innocent. It's a tourist area. All the bars were letting out. He just didn't care who he hit. I'll never forget that fucker's face. Heaven help him if I ever get him in an empty barn with a cattle prod.
All that matters is we're both fine. I have a bruise on my leg and left ass cheek (looks like a hickie!), but I'll live.
Wrong place, wrong time. Goddamn. Story of my life. But makes for terriffic blogging!
I'm fine, Mom. I Swear! Good thing they only arm the riot police with dildos and tennis balls!
DIA EL NINO
We woke up to a carnival setting up outside on Bravo Murillo. It was a street fair to celebrate the Day of the Child.
Kristen, Stuart and I observed by celebrating the fact that we have no children!!!!!
I thought it was Mother's Day and tried to call Mom, but she didn't answer. I then called Mel, to see if Mom was there, who informed me I was a week early. I think I almost gave her a heart attack because she thought something was wrong. Sorry Seester!
So I went to a pub, had an empanada and watched Athletico Madrid get pummeled by Espanol. I later saw Real Madrid come from behind to beat Sevilla 3 - 1 and take sole possession of second place. Barcelona is still in first. The restaurant I was in exploded with cheers for each goal. Great atmosphere. Little old guys with their canes, flat hats and ties screaming "Hijo de puta!" It just reminds me of Sunday somehow.
SHADOWS OF THE EMPIRE
Well, I got word from Darth the other day that no one, not even Annie, will ever know who the baby's father is.
I said, "Great. Create your own John Irving Novel. All those characters are all so happy. I'm sure that's not going to mess her up at all."
Garp, Cider house Rules, Owen Meany - all those stories are just a laugh riot. Oh well.
So we're going to start a game here called WHO'S YOUR DADDY - where we try to guess who poor Annie's father is. Please send your entries to krcfjg333@gmail.com. The winner gets an all expenses paid trip to the Crab Nebula.
Today's entry:
Frozen Pop (picture at top)
-Roger waters
Hello my dear blog-ees! Que tal?
I have been here 4 moons. Time she passes quickly. Rapidamente. Fucking fast.
This was a holiday week: May 1 and 2. Weird week.
NINETEEN EIGHTY-FOUR
I saw Patricia on Wed. (Miercoles) night. She was pretty icy. Strange chick. All because of that misunderstanding, i guess.
The following are actual quotes from Patrica on May 2, 2007, recorded between the hours of 11:00 PM and 1:07 AM on May 3rd.
I don't like my hair, i think it's too yellow.
I have Saturday off. Yes, I already have plans.
Kristen looks like Che Guevera.
He (Jay) can't understand Spanish.
I understand how being blown off works. I don't understand why she died her hair with blonde highlights. Maybe that's what she did on Tuesday when she was done cutting herself on the inner thigh. I don't like people to talk smack about Kristen, but she can handle herself (She wanted to kick box Patricia's ass when I told her).
However, nobody, and I mean NOBODY disses my Spanish. I soon after said good-bye, walked Comet Girl (my friend Haley - another teacher) to the Metro, and went home.
I showed her too. We were all at Aeria. These two skinny Spanish guys (queens - I'm sure) heard us speak English. They were with a gal from San Fran and started talking to us. I used a Spanish phrase (I guess) and they were like "You speak Spanish?"
"Un poquito" I said.
That's when Patricia ran her smack about my Spanish. I then proceeded to talk to them in Spanish for maybe ten minutes, with some English thrown in for extra flava.
The next day I 1984'ed her ass. I made her an "unperson" and erased her from the annals of history: my cell phone.
See you in hell, bitch. I'm done with psychopaths.
MUSICA PARA MIS OJETAS
Have listened to both the new Rush and Porcupine Tree albums. Both these groups take repeated listening just to figure out what the hell is going on. I like them both so far.
RUSH - Snakes and Arrows
Rush sounds closer to modern King Crimson with every album. It's very layered and sonic and benefits from head phones. 3 instrumentals! Oh joy oh rapture! Hope is a 2 minute acoustic Alex piece. I like what I have heard so far. As opposed to Vapor Trails, this one has keyboards, used pretty well, I'd say.
PORCUPINE TREE - Fear of a Blank Planet
Sprawling and jagged, yet textured and beautiful. This is a band pretty much at their peak, like Rush in the late 70's - early 80's. Great stuff.
MAYDAY!
May 1 is International Workers Day. There were demonstrations that turned into riots very quickly in this one neighborhood. Three groups protested: Communists, Socialists and the Anarchists. A lot of people were hurt and they put up triage centers and makeshift medical tents. Over 60 people were injured.
That night, Stuart, Kristen and I met Laura and her posse at Aeria. Stuart hardly goes out and wanted to go dancing at 3:30 when Aeria closed. I said sure - i still had the energy to boogie and take in some eye candy.
We walked from Chueca to Sol and were on Gran Via (10 minute walk). This was away from the riot area. There were police blocking of certain roads and just standing around as a presence. We heard a couple of bangs, which we thought were fireworks, and the occassional assholes running.
We were up on Gran Via when two big paddy wagons roll across Gran Via from a side street. They're about to block our way and their in full riot gear, even the face shields down. We go to the corner to cross Gran Via and get out of their way.
The cops then crossed the street towards us and start yelling. Whatever it was, it was unitelligable (I know all the words for 'go' and 'move on' and 'get the fuck out of here'). They were very fucking angry. We both raised our hands.
"Yo soy Irlanda," Stuart said. (I'm from Ireland).
"Habla ingles." (Speak English, or we are English speakers).
This one little sawed-off cop yells something unitelligable. I don't know what it was, but I saw the hate in his eyes. We back up. I don't know if the hate was because we spoke English or because he had bad hemoroids. He swung his baton towards my left leg.
"Oh shit," I thought. "Here comes that broken hip I didn't think I'd see til I was 67."
That second took forever. His eyes were bright with rage and malice. We had done nothing. I'll never forget that look. Blind malevolence.
"You wreckless chicken-shit...," I thought, "..That you're so willing to do me possible irrevocable physical harm . You're a disgrace."
I swung my left arm down to block the baton. Instinct. Better to break an arm then have your vital organs busted. The night stick hit me in the side of the leg and my ass. It hurt, but there was no explosion of pain.
"Hey hey, que paso!" we screamed.
He hit me again.
Stuart is a rugby player: 6'3, 190, with like 3 percent body fat. He was ready to throw down when they hit me.
But these guys had shields, night sticks, guns, face shields, etc.
I looked up at Stuart and gave him the eye. "This is a fight we can't win, boy. Walk away. Live to fight another day." He desisted.
I guess they wanted us to run, maybe. We backed up and started to jog away. Luckily, the baton was just a rubber thing. It was like and industrial strength fly swatter.
A few guys screaming obscenities (Hijo de puta!) ran by us and another bunch of cops in yellow riot gear caught up with us two blocks later. We were halfway down the street when they blocked it off. We turned around. They were firing blanks into the air. I walked over to the sidewalk near buildings for some cover. Stuart brazenly kept to the middle of the street. We both agreed we shouldn't run as we hadn't done anything and didn't want to look guilty. There was an enormous bang. Then an "OW" followed by a cackling laugh, "You fucking pussies! They shot me!" he said. Then he laughed.
"What?" It was all shadows and I couldn't see much.
"They shot me with a plastic bullet!"
Hoder! Plastic bullets are no laughing matter. They can kill you just like lead ones when they strike the right place.
"Wait. I think I see it!" He runs. "Yes. I got it. Woo hoo!"
I was utterly confused. He sound okay, though. And then he showed me the bullet that was the size of a tennis ball. It was hard and yellow and looked like a hockey ball, made not to bounce.
And that's how I knew he was alright.
The Metro was shut and there was no chance of getting a taxi with the riot going on, so we went to a club til the Metro reopened at 6AM.
It turns out that the we were in a different riot. Ours involved a bunch of youths that were drinking beer outside in a park near the Tribunal Metro. They were protesting the 'botella' law, prohibiting you from drinking beer outside.
People still do it all the time. It's just that these kids haven't caught on that it's you attract a lot more attention when there are 500 of you.
So they sent in the cops to break it up.
It was so obvious Stuart and I were innocent. It's a tourist area. All the bars were letting out. He just didn't care who he hit. I'll never forget that fucker's face. Heaven help him if I ever get him in an empty barn with a cattle prod.
All that matters is we're both fine. I have a bruise on my leg and left ass cheek (looks like a hickie!), but I'll live.
Wrong place, wrong time. Goddamn. Story of my life. But makes for terriffic blogging!
I'm fine, Mom. I Swear! Good thing they only arm the riot police with dildos and tennis balls!
DIA EL NINO
We woke up to a carnival setting up outside on Bravo Murillo. It was a street fair to celebrate the Day of the Child.
Kristen, Stuart and I observed by celebrating the fact that we have no children!!!!!
I thought it was Mother's Day and tried to call Mom, but she didn't answer. I then called Mel, to see if Mom was there, who informed me I was a week early. I think I almost gave her a heart attack because she thought something was wrong. Sorry Seester!
So I went to a pub, had an empanada and watched Athletico Madrid get pummeled by Espanol. I later saw Real Madrid come from behind to beat Sevilla 3 - 1 and take sole possession of second place. Barcelona is still in first. The restaurant I was in exploded with cheers for each goal. Great atmosphere. Little old guys with their canes, flat hats and ties screaming "Hijo de puta!" It just reminds me of Sunday somehow.
SHADOWS OF THE EMPIRE
Well, I got word from Darth the other day that no one, not even Annie, will ever know who the baby's father is.
I said, "Great. Create your own John Irving Novel. All those characters are all so happy. I'm sure that's not going to mess her up at all."
Garp, Cider house Rules, Owen Meany - all those stories are just a laugh riot. Oh well.
So we're going to start a game here called WHO'S YOUR DADDY - where we try to guess who poor Annie's father is. Please send your entries to krcfjg333@gmail.com. The winner gets an all expenses paid trip to the Crab Nebula.
Today's entry:
Frozen Pop (picture at top)
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