this time, hopefully
so, i've had a couple of people ask me for the address of my new blog. now when in my last post, i said here is the new one, and the word here appears fatter and with a line under it, and when your mouse slides over it a little gloved hand appears like magic, what that means is that it's what is called a link. now if you click on that link, it'll take you straight to another site (that's a place on the internet). if you're having trouble conceiving it, a link is kind of like a taxi. it just takes you straight to where you want to go. but instead of sticking your thumb out and trying not to act drunk, you just click on it with your mouse (they're made of plastic, not like other kinds of mouse). so just to clear everything up, one last time, i'll put a link to the new blog, and leave this one fulfill its aforementioned destiny of becoming internet detritus.
well, i guess i've already moved. like i said a while ago, this was a travel blog, and i've stopped moving. i'm moving to what might be a worthwhile little project in writing and self-discipline. i feel a little like i need to get my hands back into some english, because it's not feeling quite as malleable as it used to be. i'll leave this here at the moment though, as my cyber travel detritus [pronounced the wrong way]*
anyway, here's the new one...
so long. i'm home.
* one last note on detritus. we took it from the french détritus. now my french is pretty elementary, but as far as i know, they don't make sounds like ïtis. or at least, not with a single i. so síl vous plaît, correct me if i'm wrong, but to me it looks like the official, nazi english pronunciation is just a bastardisation of the french pronunciation. i know even less latin, but i get the feeling that they didn't pronounce it the official english way either. so i say fuck you detritus nazis, your pronunciation sucks.
i once wanted to collate a list of 'absolute truths that cannot be disputed but are rarely recognised or mentioned in daily discourse'. these would be contrasted to things that everyone knows and are pointed out all the time. i think i only ever had one thing on my list though, and it was this:
eggplant*, when cut, is redolent of apple.
*i'm talking about aubergine for those still living in the colonial centre. which is a topic for another day, where australia gets off having names like eggplant, and most importantly, capsicum.
Update: wikipedia seems to suggest that the australian nomenclature is probably more logical, using the actual name of them to describe not-hot capsicums, and then, in a clever way of distinguishing, calling them chillis if they are hot. i also like the mention of the common australian mispronunciation 'capsicun', which apparently requires a citation. you can just imagine two lispy lips come down over a lazy tongue and a missing front tooth to say:
where's the capsicun, mum?
S'in the eski. Necks to the cheese.
if you arrive in the middle of winter after a year and a half having been more than comfortable and satisfied where you were and are stuck in a part of this megacity monstruous massive sydney is for* things like the beenie you bought at last year's christmas markets with the hanging ear bits and the hoody that took you six months to get back, the one who's story is gonna get old soon so try not to tell it so often even though it's a funny story, slightly better in spanish but hey; and probably those red and black striped fingerless gloves from london, the ones that make it real obvious that you've gone to the toilet when you put them back on but at least it also makes it obvious that you actually washed your hands.
* this would maybe be a more valid construction in spanish and basque, using the temporal 'to be'. eg. bikes that cost less than fifty bucks aren't for buying. i'm sure you all get the idea.
two days ago as i walked to the station the sun came out quickly. the carpark was full of worms. caught out. damn slutty sun like a cruel kid bored on school holidays. they were all still and resigned in fate congealing.
it's been a week. possibly the shittiest week wheatherwise that i can ever think of witnessing.
have an idea for a new blog more or less, which would involve daily (yeah, we'll see about that) really short posts. a post for the day, be it a weather report, insightful aphorism, image, whatever.
i would also need to learn how to fuck with my template. put a picture on there or something.
about twenty minutes ago i ran into hon. he took me by surprise. he said 'hey, how's it going?' i said 'not doing' i'm pretty sure that doesn't work.
my parents' house has the uncanny ability of being about ten degrees colder than it has ever been in sydney, all winter long. this bedroom leaves your knees aching. the last night i spent in this bedroom it was so warm. you melted on top of me and in the morning i peeled you off gently, massaged you back into shape, softly, and you left the room like a cat. fantastic and round and fantastic.
now it's so cold. the speakers on my old stereo sound worse than i remembered. the music shivers and cracks in the wet black air. this is where i am.
it's terrifying.
they were al out already all the boys so plump and rotund they swung their arms one flexed his biceps for everyone to see they were big he was a tosser. others crossed the road at swinging legs on thongs and found a tree to piss. to piss, i walked past a bin where the urine smelled like cow dung, grassy and fresh could have released steam if airated. on my new two-week-street passed a girl with eyelids that flickered like halogen bulbs offered her rum and coke - ¿what, no bundy? - to another one of the big rotund boys with biceps big and rotund. while she flickered, an epilectic giving out seizures she rocked back and forth without rhythm without wanting all of this the night before the fiestas.
they came like ants to a picnic. first you just noted a few of them, thought you could pick them off one at a time. then they started multiplying and deforming like a cancer. and now, just a couple of days later, the day before the festivals actually start, i look at the city like an exasperated oncologist. the organ is so wrapped in webs of a cystic cancer that it's not even worth trying. the only thing i can offer you is paliative treatment. things to dull the pain and leave you in a stupor. and oh how much of those substances there will be floating around.
this afternoon, a guy walked past in a group, three quarter length pants, thongs, sunnies on his head, and a blue singlet.
i look at this city today, jilted. i feel like i never knew you.
+++++++++++++++++
having said all that, i do intend on having some serious fun. and on the 11th there's a free bob dylan + mikel laboa concert in donosti that i think i'll head to.
alba
another skinny white boy
antipopper
asti
english lessons
hon
no se puede
somnambulist
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