My balls and my word

October 2005:

I've been contemplating the ways of the universe that revolves around myself, which is the only universe that counts. Yes, it's true. We are all just contemplating our own universes in one way or another. The doctor who operates, the scientist who invents, the philosopher who wastes time: they are all just trying to understand, & in many cases improve their own universes. I would go into detail but their universes are not mine, & that is the main reason I do not care about them. Many other reasons follow but I find it tiring to explain things & reasons of other universes. My universe is quite complex & quite simple at the same time. It is full & empty, tasty & bland, yet it does not contradict itself nor does it bother with the yin & yang type of thing. It is as if crafted by a sick madman who wanted to make a fool-proof plan to ruin someone's life but failed a little bit. I'd like to meet this madman. I hope he has yellow or no teeth & wears a cape.




Yes! I need serious mental help, folks, especially cos I just sketched the madman. He's funny.

1 MAY 2007

SEVILLA. Vèrta Reyes, reknowned international artist, died in Sevilla on her 28th birthday after plummeting to her death from the highest seat above the northern goal of Ramón Sanchez Pizjuan, Sevilla Fútbol Club´s stadium, while celebrating the squad´s win over Espanyol that sunny Sunday afternoon on 29 April. The official radio station of the club recorded her 8 massively loud & earthquaking heartbeats & bullet fast descent, & their television station caught it on video. This official video has not been released to news stations, although many fans in the stands that caught it on their mobile phone videocameras after hearing the heartbeats have posted their files on YouTube. Those heartbeats were her last sounds (before the final landing), after her last words: ¨SEVILLAAAAAAAAAA JAJAJAJJAJAJAJJAJAJAJAJJAJJJAJAJ¨.

In the match, Frederic Kanouté & Jesús Navas both scored hatricks, in the first & second times respectively, while Andrés Palop, the goalkeeper, scored a brace in the first seconds of the second time. The score would have been 16 nil, but 5 other goals (scored by Alejandro Alfaro, Enzo Maresca, Christian Poulsen, Alexandr Kerzhakov, & Ernesto Javier Chevantón) were disallowed by nonexistent (seen clearly in replay) offsides. Not only this, but 3 owngoals scored by Espanyol´s goalkeeper, Idriss Carlos Kameni, were also disallowed for complete embarassing studipity.

Scandal rocked the stadium & the league itself when 3 of Sevilla´s defenders (Javi Navarro, Aitor Ocio & Julien Escudé) & left back (Antonio Puerta) were given direct red cards in the first time, on the mostly unknown 1948 ¨pretty boy melena clause¨. This, however, did not help Espanyol at all, for they left the stadium with their heads hanging low after a blank scoreboard. The most repeated question directed at the Catalonian club in the press conferences afterwards was ¨WHAT?¿¡!¨ Unfortunately, no players from the Espanyol team were available for comments at the time of publication, & their head coach, Ernesto Valverde, has not been seen since.

At Reyes´s funeral this afternoon, the entire Sevilla club (including the youth teams, women´s teams, rowing teams, etc.) attended, as did her father, who was reported to be the Greatest Guy on Earth on the club´s official website. She was clad in a José Antonio Reyes Calderón jersey, from his time at the Andalucían club. Reyes Calderón attended, & autographed the jersey, right before announcing his return to Sevilla FC next season.

The most downloaded photograph on the InterWeb this week has been the artist in her red & white casket with a frozen smile on her face. Scientists have offered good money for her corpse & promised big time profits from the study of this surprising freak of nature posthumous smile. The money rendered from this research is reportedly going to Sevilla FC to pay for Reyes Calderón´s return home.

Open telegram to Chuck Palahniuk

-

PLEA TO PALAHNIUK
JUST A FEW MINUTES AGO


DEAR MISTER PALANIUK PAUSE PLEASE PAUSE FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THINGS HOLY PAUSE WRITE A BOOK ABOUT MY SISTER STOP I WAS THINKING ABOUT DOING SO PAUSE BUT YOU'RE TEH BEST WRITER ALIVE PAUSE I SWEAR TO GOODNESS STOP ONLY YOU COULD EVER THINK OF THE MAGIC WORDS TO DESCRIBE THE TON OF MESS MY SISTER IS STOP I WILL GLADLY GIVE YOU DETAILS ABOUT HER LIFE FROM THE MOMENT SHE WAS BORN AND HELP YOU IN ANY WAY STOP ALL I ASK IS THAT YOU PLEASE PAUSE PLEASE PAUSE LET ME ILLUSTRATE IT STOP I'VE EVEN HAD PRACTICE STOP SEE PAUSE ON LATE PAUSE DRUNKEN NIGHTS PAUSE ALL OF A SUDDEN TO KEEP THE PARTY GOING I TELL A STORY OR TWO ABOUT HER AND ALL OF A SUDDEN PAUSE THE PAPER AND PEN COME OUT STOP IT'S THE FUNNEST THING PAUSE WE WOULD HAVE A BLAST STOP

-

Unfortunately, for Chuck and for all, maybe I'm better-suited to write this story. So I probably won't send him this telegram, but I will draw upon the all-Pal inspiration, of course, such as the first pages of Diary. (Which reminds me, I feel like Misty with hanging skin after being trapped in that room for so long.) I must also take this chance once again to brag about when Emrah Darling compared my writing to Palahniuk's. I love graphic-ness, and this story calls for the most graphic literature ever, one that will make you writhe and even vomit from the scratch-and-sniff quality of the descriptions.

The best part about it is that it could be a series of books, cos it's an on-going story, she'll never stop. More details later.

When I was little, I would draw tornadoes. I liked the pencil strokes. I would then put faces on the tornadoes, and hats, too. Sometimes I'd give them hands. I eventually started drawing families of tornadoes, where the dad had a moustage and a briefcase. I don't remember very well the details of it all, or what exactly was going through my head at the time, but I kept some of them and I have a lot of drawings from when I was younger. I've always wanted to show them to a psychiatrist because I do believe I've always had some sort of mental problems. But at least I can enjoy some things sometimes without spreading unjoy to people.

So I was thinking about these tornadoes today. During the afternoon, I got profusely sad. I was talking to Marcelo about it, who I do believe felt obligated to listen to me because he just went through a bad time and such and I was there for him. I couldn't do anything else, being who I am and caring about him. During this conversation, I compared my life to a tornado, without being specific, but he knew it was about me so I eventually cut the crap and used the first person. I can't fool anyone, not even myself.

You see, I live in a tornado. Everyone else lives outside of it. Sometimes people come inside the tornado to visit, or to see what's going on, to check out the spectacle they've heard from someone else, or just out of fucking boredom (which is usually the case). Usually these people immediately leave when they see me, and those who stick around to see what I'm about leave with a bad taste in their mouth. Sometimes people step in with good intentions and I can't let them go. I kept someone chained inside the tornado with me for over a year, and it hurt me, not them, the worst they got was annoyed. I have scars that will never go away from that time, and they're off enjoying the freedom. I'm just glad I'm finally at the point where I just don't give a shit anymore.

Mostly sadists come in from time to time, these are usually the people I start out calling friends. They come in to take something of mine, whether it be a possession, my naive sense that people should sometimes be good to me, someone around me at the time, or just my pride. People have come in and done disastrous things (hard to come by when it's a fucking tornado, for chrissake). I've been used and abused, by nearly everyone who has stepped into this violent funnel. I've had supposed friends come and take everything I own, lie to me, pretend to accept me then shun me when I'm no longer of any use to them, steal all the people I meet, fuck strangers in my bed, even. And sometimes I can't kick them out, because it's lonely in the tornado. As much as I want to open the tornado shaft and shove them out with all my might, I know that whenever they do leave, whether it be my doing or by their own will, no one will be left, until next time someone decides to step in, or accidentally gets sucked in by something or other, which is usually the thought that I might just be a cool person cos I'm an artist and such. But I'm crazy, folks. And when they do leave, they watch me writhe and flop around on the floor with smiles on their faces, then get back to their own lives, their own loves, their own people. Usually they don't even remember me unless the tornado comes back round again.

Sometimes I get amazing visitors, like Doc or Heather Levy, but the reality is that they live outside the tornado, and it doesn't matter how much they visit, I know they will be gone soon, because they have their own lives and in the end, I don't matter to them what they matter to me. That's just reality. They have their own keys to the tornado shaft and their own parkas hanging in the closet with their names on them, even. But they know I live in this world of flying rooftops and cows and fences, and I have to dodge these things and still try to live a normal life at the same time. The tornado fucks with me sometimes and lifts me up to the heavens where I spend some time with Cloud 4 and Cloud 8, but then when I start enjoying myself, it pulls me back down to the dirty ground and bounces me around a bit, just to hurt me a little and wake me up. At times I can see clearly through it so I think it's gone, then something will fly and hit me right in the face to let me know it's still there.

When my mom died, I fell in a hole the tornado made in the ground and some debris fell on top of me. It's not all off yet, and I'm still being dragged around underground by the storm with burdens galore pushing me farther into the earth. It's raining in here and everything's getting flooded and I don't know how much longer I can take it. I'm getting blinded by the tornado, and all I know is that I want it to stop so I can see where I am clearly. The only thing I love about right this moment is that I'm in Sevilla. At least I still know that. The other stuff, well, everything else is just a pile of shit upon shit. Everything has it's bad side, and things rarely have a good side, and if they do, the bad side just stings too much to ever see the good side. There's so much debris and destruction that it's just insane to try to look past it.

Marcelo says tornadoes are not forever, that they're escapable, but I'm not so sure.

Maybe what I need to do is disappear, try to outrun or outslow the tornado, and maybe it'll lose my trail. I need to disappear without moving, disappear without lifting a finger, because that's just the way I work.

Here's to disappearing, at least for a while.

Everyone: get over whatever it is that's keeping you all from living and get on with the things that are really important, whatever those are. I've already let go approximately 98% but I've got a bit to go before I reach cynicism of Biblical proportion. That 2% just means I still have a heart, so broken it's mostly dust, but a heart nonetheless. The wind slightly blows particles here and there, and certain moments in life mend it together, only to give fate more reason to constantly stab and burn. Definitions forthcoming but not here, not anywhere other than my earlobes. I'm not sure what anything means and why we're not dead yet. Only a few people have ever stuck around for more than a while in my life, and I thank you all if you're here in sincerity. I've been thinking a lot about this and how my presence on this earth is coated with layers and layers of safflower oil, whereas everyone else's is covered in corn syrup. Takes someone with a mission, sharp claws and a strong will to stick around. Not to mention my hands are made of water. It's all natural, so I can't really complain although I often do. I've been wondering if my cavities have anything to do with everything. I have at least three right now. One hurts all the time, one hurts on occasion and the other never hurts. Such a strong metaphor it's not even funny.

It's all a process, she said.

And we're all just monsters in Nancy clothing.

MISSION: Go to bank, deposit check and apply for checkcard.

1. Subject heads for the door without the check.
2. It is raining, and there happens to be a leaf under the driver's side windshield wiper, making things a bit difficult to decipher for the Subject.
3. Instead of trusting the bank's directions, the Subject also looks them up on Mapquest.com.
4. Instead of just following one set of directions, the Subject tries to follow them all and gets lost.
5. The Subject then calls the 800 number on the back of the credit card to tell them that she is lost, and they eventually get someone on the telephone from the correct branch.
6. While on hold, the Subject gets out of the car and removes the leaf mentioned in #2.
7. The Subject finds out that the branch was actually right around the corner.
8. On exiting the car, the Subject feels as though she is kicking something, and looks down after 4 kicks and finds that the headset to the cellphone in use in #5 is dangling from her pocket onto the wet and getting-wetter ground and is also being kicked.
9. The Subject enters the bank and sees some people waiting in a row of chairs, as well as a few more scattered standing and waits behind one of those standing people.
10. The woman in front of the Subject moves several times so as to not have someone standing behind her.
11. The Subject finds this odd, but even more odd is the fact that the other people are not forming a line, they are just hanging back.
12. A young woman says "excuse me" to the Subject, and, while moving out of her way, a man behind the Subject also says "excuse me," and the Subject then notices that there is a machine with teller numbers.
13. The Subject hurries to take one before the man.
14. During the wait, and exactly one number before the Subject's, the Subject realized that the car has not been locked and exits the building in order to lock the car with the handheld remote.
15. Upon re-entering the building, the Subject sees the correct number flashing on the digital number board, and heads for Teller #2.
16. The Subject slips in water, exclaims "SHIT!" and stumbles towards the counter.
17. Upon reaching the counter, the Subject realizes that the actual checking account number is still at home inside the notebook that the Subject was taking notes in that morning.
18. The Subject recites the correct Social Security Number to Teller #2 so that Teller #2 may proceed with the transaction.
19. The Subject fills out a few fields at the top of a transaction slip.
20. The Subject then hands Teller #2 the transaction slip, a check, and also requests a check card application.
21. Teller #2 directs the Subject (twice, because the Subject is hard of hearing it seems) to a computer on the other side of the bank where people sign-in and wait for a bank worker to call their name and see them for things such as check card applications.
22. After thanking Teller #2, the Subject walks over to the computer, practically stomping so as to not slip in water again.
23. After moving the mouse on the computer for approximately 2 minutes, the Subject notices the directions of use printed on paper which is taped to the top of the monitor.
24. The Subject fills in the required fields on the screen and sits down to wait.
25. After a few moments, the Subject realizes that the check handed to Teller #2 was not signed on the back.
26. The Subject walks over to the counter to stand behind the man whose teller number the Subject stole just minutes before and waits for him to finish his transaction with Teller #2, and also pays attention to what is happening on the other side of the bank so as to not miss the correct name called.
27. The man-done-wrong takes an awfully long time with the transaction.
28. As soon as the man finishes, the Subject rushes up to the counter (stomping again, can't forget that water on the floor) and tells Teller #2 that the check handed to him by the Subject just minutes before was not signed and asks if this was alright.
29. Teller #2 informs the Subject that it is indeed alright, and says something else about a stamp.
30. Seeing how nice Teller #2 has been about this interruption in numbers, the Subject does not ask Teller #2 to repeat the part about the stamp so as to not take up more time.
31. The Subject leaves the counter and heads back over to the waiting area, realizing that during the conversation with Teller #2, no attention was paid as to which names were being called.
32. The Subject's sharp eye identifies a young man that was definitely before her, and an older gentleman that was definitely after her and waits with ease.
33. When the Subject's name is called, the Subject walks over to the bank worker and notices how much shorter the bank worker is, leading the Subject to laugh while greeting the bank worker.
34. The bank worker leads the Subject to a fancy cubicle and offers the Subject a seat as the Subject has already begun to sit down on the very nice red chair in front of the desk.
35. The Subject requests a check card application and also requests a pin number for the credit card account that will not be given over the telephone because supposedly the bank does not trust the Subject through a fax machine (apparently within years the Subject's signature is not the same as it was when the account was first opened).
36. The bank worker informs the Subject that a pin number can be created for the check card but for the credit card account only a request for a pin number can be made at this time.
37. The Subject fills out the check card application and types in a pin number on the computer, while asking a few questions such as "So I'll be able to use my check card soon, right?"
38. Upon completion of the tasks listed in #37, the bank worker stands up, mumbles something, and hurries out of the fancy cubicle's opening.
39. The bank worker moves too quickly for the Subject to ask him to repeat himself.
40. Feeling as though the day's errands are finished and knowing rush hour is really bad because of the rain, the Subject stands up and exits both the fancy cubicle and building and heads for the car.
41. The Subject realizes that directions back to the Beltway are not in the Subject's possession.
42. The Subject guesses right and reaches the Beltway safe and sound.
43. A few miles from the bank the Subject realizes that the bank worker might have returned to the cubicle to help with the request of the credit card pin number, but traffic is too slow to help the Subject actually care.
44. The Subject returns home safely and triumphantly.