gallas13

Me gustas cuando callas porque ests como ausente,
y me oyes desde lejos, y mi voz no te toca.
Parece que los ojos se te hubieran volado
y parece que un beso te cerrara la boca.

Como todas las cosas estn llenas de mi alma
emerges de las cosas, llena del alma ma.
Mariposa de sueo, te pareces a mi alma,
y te pareces a la palabra melancola.

Me gustas cuando callas y ests como distante.
Y ests como quejndote, mariposa en arrullo.
Y me oyes desde lejos, y mi voz no te alcanza:
djame que me calle con el silencio tuyo.

Djame que te hable tambin con tu silencio
claro como una lmpara, simple como un anillo.
Eres como la noche, callada y constelada.
Tu silencio es de estrella, tan lejano y sencillo.

Me gustas cuando callas porque ests como ausente.
Distante y dolorosa como si hubieras muerto.
Una palabra entonces, una sonrisa bastan.
Y estoy alegre, alegre de que no sea cierto.

- Pablo Neruda

i think i've posted this piece before, but it's kinda on topic right now.

so dig. i wake up to a message this morning from my crew. they were all rollin' out to long island city - in the lincoln navi no less - to some miami vice gig. fuck's sake. i would've been a great tubbs and THE best crockett. ever. i HATE when i miss fabulous adventures like that. instead i was all passed out before one in the a.m. - hungover and burnt out as sheeot from friday shenanigans, and admittedly half drunk from a little hair of the dog. correction: a lot hair of the dog. remember this important hair of the dog tidbit because it will be important later on in my story. flashback to earlier that evening. i'm kicking it at one of these cheeky midtown bars with some amigos. i'm just gonna come right out and say it: we *clearly* didn't belong there. i reckon you could say they - the bar's standard patrons - were some of the world's mid-tier beautiful people. no models or actresses that i recognized, but lots of makeup, lots of hair gel, lots of thongs hanging out the back of jeans, lots of bitter sex and the city girls trolling for husbands with lines like, "oh my god i just need a cock" (saying it as if they were breaking some new sexy ground), and lots of b&t boys responding in kind with "dood she is sooo hot!" now i realize that what i've just articulated makes me sound like a pompass fuck. well i am. put that in yer pipe and smoke it. but to be fair a year or two ago i would've found the whole thing to be like candyland, and would have drooled my glands dry over said chicas. but no mas. at last night's venue one of the thong-weilding species kept shoving her ass into my crotch, then would turn around, apologize sheepishly, and say, "i'm monica (or some such shit), what's your name?" i just kept telling her a different name everytime she did it. no shit i bet i gave her half a dozen different ones, and she didn't put two and two together. sorry tootse but there is no spring fever in my pants (yet. sit tight patient readers). point is that i wasn't feelin' it. some of me brothers were on the pull, so i rapidly took on the role of drunk wingman. fine. you have those nights, right? wrong. enter the fucking galactically lovely missus that forms the centerpiece of our hero's story. one of my buddies' friends she is. and jesus h christ on the cross if that girl ain't got it. effin mez.mer.ized i am. i mean talk about triple five soul. plus one gillion to the tenth power. with a cherry. on. top. long jet black hair and no makeup and shitloads of attitude and butt that don't lie. and she smokes newports. and she wears airwalks. and she laughs at my run dmc jokes. and she can talk southernese with me. and she's madly in love with my friend's brother, which adds the whole freudian desire-what-we-can't-have thing into the mix. and she knows more about delis in new york than me. and she talked bmx bikes with me. and when she talks to you she leans in and takes your forearm and looks up at you with these fucking dark brown lazer beams. and she's a *fucking attorney*. she says, "you're the guy from georgia, right?" no girl, i'm the joker eating out of the palm of your hand. i'm sorry to go on and on like this ya'll, but this is the first time i've been cold cocked by a lady that fast and that thoroughly in a long long long ass time. i got the high school pitter patter pitter patter. i mean seriously faithful readers, this is like the h.e.r.o.i.n. see i got my methadone crush bivuoaced out in sacrotomato, and figured between that and keeping my brain limber with shitloads of booze and chemicals and cruising on my lo lo, the dark side of the force would not be able to work it's evil magic on my brain and stone cold steve austin heart. and thus far it's worked brilliantly. girls and boys can shake their ass at me and i'm all like "uh, yeah that's nice. can you move your butt and pass the john daniels?" but man this girl has got her voodoo workin'. i'm talkin' darth vader. last night all i could do was shake and drink as fast as i could and hope for the fog to settle in (this is the lots of hair of the dog i was talkin' 'bout earlier). BUT IT AIN'T WORKIN'. even the tequila and the porno. fuck's sake, all i can listen to now is gregory isaacs. our hero is in trouble kids.