point

the point is to never be the same.
the journey changes us over time, derivatives at every point.
a point is unchanging.
there cannot be a point because then i could not change.
why am i not the same?

Piano Solo

idly towards eternity

GUIL: ... Well, we'll know better next time. Now you see me, now you -
(And disappears.)

Estamos solos

JAVIER. ...Nos despeñaremos perfectamente formados, uno a uno. Yo no quiero caer prisionero. ¡No! ¡Prisionero, no! ¡Morir! ¡Yo prefiero... (Con un sollozo sordo.) morir! ¡Madre! ¡Madre! ¡Estoy aquí..., lejos! ¿No me oyes? ¡Madre! ¡Tengo miedo! ¡Estoy solo! ¡Estoy en un bosque muy lejos! ¡Somos seis, madre! ¡Estamos... solos..., solos..., solos...!

(La voz, estrangulada, se pierde y resuena en el bosque. Javier no se ha movido desde la frase "No es nadie".)

--Escuadra hacia la muerte, Alfonso Sastre

Crown of Love

applying simulacra to individuals

the simulacrum of culture attempts to imitate life/reality, whatever that may actually be. but what about the relativism we've come to understand and the rights for which we've argued on account of said relativism? are our own bodies not our brains' simulacra? the simulacrum of the individual attempts to speak for their life/reality. and, in fact, our bodies are interpreted in particular ways by others as a result of numerous misrepresentative cultural simulacra to which we are exposed daily. how does being fat make me lazy? how does being a woman make me weak?

we rally against the imposed simulacra because we wish to define our own reality. (i was going to say reality, but then i realized all we can hope for is the opportunity to define our own simulacra. i see now that this post simply stems from a lack of reality.)

el realismo

the back of the bus is symmetrical. five seats in the horizontal plane; two pairs perpendicular on opposite sides. three persons took seats, one moving a newspaper from a seat on one axis to a seat on the other.

as the seats filled, one passenger opened and began to read the newspaper that was placed in the seat moments prior.

Boys Don't Cry

But I know that it's too late/ And now there's nothing I can do

every wrong is made from a right

i often feel so empty. dissociated.

now i feel filled
with sadness.

it makes me want to feel empty again

a fair well

i don't realize i am alive
until i'm with someone else
and since i'm always alone
i'm long since forgotten