autismo

primeramente voluntario

solo miro dentro

y dentro quiero algunas cosas

las quiero hoy a esta hora

y solo hoy a esta hora, por hoy, importa

hoy, a esta hora, quiero algunas cosas

y en este idioma es en el que digo

y en este idioma es en el que siento

que sólo esas cosas importan

por hoy, por ahora

 

scenarios

one is a construction of back-turning-time alter realities

full of

small and simple possibilities

small and simple dreams of what should (ve) be(en)

small and simple 

small and simple, I say to myself

where are you? I ask

well, i could ask... i mean

I mean

I mean, I miss

one of my parts

So yeah, there's one in which I don't

in which I am whole 

three years ago

no less

no more

the three-years-ago-version-of-me scenario

is the one where i restart stories

and re-arrange chapters 

but then 

i guess the last and best one is the jump into madness

with some of my things

oceans and continents breached

and i decide for the craziest idea

and i choose between the happy|happier and

unlikeliest

absurdest

impossiblest

happiest of all 

endings

Open Eyes

-1-

Open eyes. Dark space. No place. Silence and in-gravity. A-temporality and no limits. Sporadic lights in arbitrary intervals. Indistinct flashes.

The body. The action of floating. Anesthetic feeling. Glance to the void. Consciousness of being alone.

 Head and feet as the only reference of up and down. Right hand. Left hand. Back. A voice. Emission of a sound. Possibility of speech and sound.

Closed eyes. For one second or a century. Impossibility of determining that.

 Open yes. Feeling of being pulled by a force. Need of keeping balance. Feet. Contact with a surface under them.

 Light. One and coming from a door. Need of going through it.  One step. A walk. Before and after the blink-lapse: a new reference of time.

 The door: a possibility.

-2-

Pause. Hesitation. Fear? Impossibility of distinguishing between one feeling and the other. Heart beats. Increase of intensity and frequency.

 Calm. Closeness to the moment of going through the door. New agitation. Light. Left foot. Opposite side of the door. Right foot. Last step.

-3-

Descent. Speed. Vertigo. Ground. Imminence. Panic. Waking up.

-4-

Air. Profound aspiration. Profuse sweating. Loneliness. Search. Switch. Light. Tears. Face. Residual anguish. Relief. Relief? Being awake. Awake and alone.

Mirror. Bed. Window. Doors. Sheets. Humidity. Sound. Television. Static. Button. Off.

 Bare feet. Fridge. Water.

-5-

-Hello?

-Again

-What time is it?

-No idea. That dream again.

-It’s 3 in the morning…

-I didn’t want to wake you up, but every time the feeling is more real. Sometimes I think I won’t cross the door

-Go to sleep. You will cross. Maybe you won’t even have to decide again. Just think of a naked woman and you won’t have any troubles with Morpheus.

-I don’t appreciate your insensibility

-It is not insensibility, I am tired and sleepy. Listen, let’s talk at noon, we eat something and you tell me all about it

-Ok

 -6-

Watch. 1:00 pm. Coffee place. People. Small round tables. Waiting. Watch. 1:01 pm. Waiting. 1:03 pm. Only 3 minutes? Feeling of having waited for longer.

Salt shaker. Rice grains. Memory. Mom, why is there rice in the salt? So that it doesn’t turn into a mass and it can go through the little holes.

-Sorry!

-It doesn’t matter (lie)

-Traffic…

-Ok, ok

-So(now sitting down), tell me, why do you think that next time you won’t cross the door?

-Not only I hesitated, this time I felt fear

-Yes, but you crossed, right?

-I have told you already that I am almost sure that if I don’t cross then I stay there and I don’t come back. I won’t see you again, I would just stay floating…

-Hey listen, don’t go crazy, in one way or the other you would wake up. You were the one who assumed that the door is the only link to reality and that the fall is a way to reborn… no? or re-incarnate… or, what was it?

-Yeah yeah, that

-Well, the point is that I have told you many times that all that you control. The door, the “in-gravity”… all that

-I hate when you do that little gesture as if quotation  marks…

-Yeah yeah, I know. By the way, the only thing that worries you is that you won’t see me again? My God! That’s funny… me?

-It was an example. It is not the “only” thing that worries me

-See how useful the manual quotation marks are?

-You’re incapable of understanding an irony

-Of course I am, the thing is that they make me laugh. Do we order? I’m hungry…

 -7-

Apartment. Loneliness. Voice.

-What if I don’t sleep?

 -8-

-Hello?

-Lena…

-Tell me

- You busy?

-Sort of, but tell me

-What if I don’t sleep?

-Pills again? Where do you get all that?

-No, no… no pills. What if I can stay awake forever. You said I control everything.

-Yes, Claudio, but only inside the dream…

-9-

Sneeze. Impossibility of containing it. Possible allergy. Dusty couch. Small TV. Video tape. infomercial about schizophrenia. Teenagers. Stupid conversation. Fucked up waiting lounge.

Impatience.

-Next!

Small hallways. Office. Dusty couch (another one). Notes. Of what?

-So… still the recurrent dreams

-THE recurrent dream. It’s the same one.

-Yes… in this dream, are you naked?

Stupid question.

 

-mmm… I don’t know

-You don’t know?

-Doctor, I’ve already told you that is consciousness of being, not necessarily physically being. In the dream I have consciousness of my eyes and I see through them but it’s only that, I haven’t touched them or seen them from outside.

 

Notes.

 

-So, you don’t feel naked

 

Bother. Right conclusion.

 

-Well no, though I could equally be physically naked, but no, I don’t feel it

 

Notes.

 

-So, you’re floating?

-You can say so, yes

-And… there’s a door..

-Yes, but only at one point

-And you go out…

-Or in… that’s relative

-So you’re out

-No! I don’t know! It’s not in or out!

 

Notes. Notes. Notes. Pause. Notes.

Notepad. Floor. Red hand. Abrupt exit. 

-10- 

Little stone. Window. Lena. Her face. Some calm.

-Claudio, you can knock, don’t you think?

-Come down

-Ok, I’ coming

 

Waiting. Impatience.

 

-Tell me… and give me one (sitting on the front door)

-Lena, I can’t stand this

-What? (exhaling smoke into the air)

-I think that I will fall asleep any time now

-How long have you gone on like this?

-I lost track

-So go to sleep

-Lena, I won’t cross

-Claudio, I think that you decided that and that’s why you’re afraid

-No, I know I won’t cross

Lena’s eyes. Glance. Lena’s hand. Claudio’s hair. In his hand, the softness of the hair.  In Claudio, the feeling of complete wellbeing. A kiss. Cheek. Another kiss. Lips.

-Claudio, don’t be afraid, I always have this same dream every night… and in the end I always cross the door.

carols

my heart hums

i let it

i let it sing a little

of joys

of confidence

my mind makes short hymns

brief compositions for promise

for precious things

not far gone

not idealized

not imagined

but tactually here

by my side

defenses

mind is on it

heart joins accordingly

health will reinstall itself

strength will win the battles

the virtual

and the corporeal ones

anger management

deep breaths

in the name of saneness

patience

to the rescue from absurdity

tolerance with a limit

for reason's sake

'cause

what would there be left

otherwise?

canvas

sobre la mesa

mis cartas, una colección confusa 

de secuencias numéricas y símbolos medievales

un juego legendario

en el que no quiero

no puedo

sacar tantas cuentas

una vida con leves inclinaciones hedonistas

como la de todos

no tiene que dar explicaciones

ultra

supra

mega

morales

es algo sencillo

simple

mio

y ya

memory

parallel to the everyday

a constant slideshow 

of past afternoons 

of rainy windows elsewhere

of a well being now floating directionless

of smells

of a small kitchen

of a sense of belonging

of little pains 

of big questions

a constant movie

playing in the background of my thoughts

of instants 

long

short

important

now lost

last resort

when all that is left

is a vague hope 

that words will curate memory and imagination

when metaphors are the only passage

to sense 

to acceptance

when love and beauty

retreat into disbelief 

yes...

poetry is the last resort

ships

with all they brought

and all I kept inside them

friend-ship

companion-ship

sink

traces

like little crumbs

all around

i find traces of loves

each trying

infinitely 

to make sense individually

to whisper to me in ultrasound

the bignesses they once used to be part of

and I hear them

in their oblivious longing

and I cry a little

for each one

regalo

como regás el agua a las plantas

al amor,  regalo 

la orden de las haditas i

la orden de las haditas ii

longing

asi de bueno

Una tarde que caminemos lado a lado, me dirás que siempre te ha gustado el olor del agua salada que se le adhiere a las brisas de marzo.  Esa misma tarde, decidiremos ir a ver una película al cine y pensarás, como cada vez que hagamos salidas nocturnas, que no te hace falta más nada en la vida.

Yo pensaré en cosas parecidas y me secaré discretamente una lágrima que se escabuirá de mi ojo izquierdo durante la película.  

El vino en casa nos pondrá a desear como los primeros días y así nos iremos a esperar la madrugada sin dormir. Para ese entonces ya no pensaremos en esas cosas como privilegios y comodamente nos aburriremos y nos reiremos juntos otro día cualquiera.

nostalgy

for the things I've lost
for the things that never were
for outdated dreams that linger like friendly ghosts
small
harmless

for the details now erased
for the closeness now gone

for another me
that was and is no more

música al rescate

otro piano... pero no solo
este sube a la mañana de categoría
Keane pregunta si alguien puede encontralos en casa

sonidos e ideas sintetizados llegan a mi isla

y me (con)mueven
y me calman.

obrera