jazztheripper

Luis Oscar's

Luis Oscar is a name that only could be worn by the main character of a Southamerican Soup-Opera. But it is also a weird After-Hours in La Corua. I came back from Luis Oscar's to my hotel, got a bath and tried to sleep. But I knew I couldn't If I didn't exorcise this absurd story first:

I want the waitress, who's the owner's girlfriend (Luis Oscar, as probably you've already imagined). She wants my friend: Arturo. Who's a hair-dresser who works for movies and who lived the end of the crazy 80's in Madrid, even though he doesn't look like he did. Arturo, however, wants to screw a big muscular shirt-less black guy, who only wants me. Meanwhile we listen to the stories of the Kid, who says he works as assistant-producer for tv but he's actually a dealer, and he doesn't know what he wants, appart from impressing us all. You should imagine this surrounded by LSD and some other diamonds. Sourrounded also by Luis Oscar, who's DJing (I haven't forgot about him, but he's not the kindda guy you'd like to describe). You also should picture the young techno kids, who are obviously a gang, who are sitting down, staring and dealing with some Colombians. And the kids' girlfriends, who are dancing like if it was still Saturday Night, and they didn't have fever. And don't forget that Luis Oscar's is the size of my living room. And now I'd want to be able to pretend that I've learnt that life is brushing courtains, and eating, and having kids, and paying bills and loving even though nothing really happens. Or I'd want to go to the beach. Or drive a convertible with Scarlett through the 5th Avenue. Who knows? At the end: We are always lonely. Specially if the person you love sleeps next to you. But you don't sleep. You can't sleep. Neither Luis Oscar do. He still has to cash up, kick out the bastards who stare at his girlfriend and shot the place.


(Spanish Version)

Luis Oscar es el nombre de un After muy extrao que hay en Corua. Volv al hotel. Me d un bao e intent dormir. Pero supe que no iba a ser capaz sin exorcisar antes esta historia.

Yo me quiero hacer a la camarera, que es la novia del dueo (Luis Oscar, como te habrs imaginado). Ella se quiere hacer a mi amigo Arturo, que es un peluquero de cine que vivi el final de la Movida, pero no lo aparenta. l, en cambio, quiere hacerlo con un negro enorme, que -en cambio- solo quiere liarse conmigo. Pero, entre tanto, le vale un niato que trabaja en produccin de cine y es camello, y que todava no sabe lo que quiere, salvo que quiere impresionarnos a todos. Adorna esto con todo tipo de sustancias, con Luis Oscar pinchando, que no es que me haya olvidado de l, pero es mejor no describirlo. Con un negro enorme que nos invita a chupitos de tequila. Con las novias de los bacalas bailando entre ellas como si an fuera sbado noche y ellas no tuvieran fiebre. Con los bacalas sentados trapicheando con unos colombianos. Todo esto sin olvidarte de imaginar que el Luis Oscar es un garito del tamao del saln de mi casa. Y yo ahora mismo querra poder fingir que he aprendido que la vida es lavar cortinas, y comer, y hacer hijos, y pagar facturas, y amar sin que suceda nada. O querra irme a la playa, o conducir un descapotable por la quinta avenida con Scarlet. Qu se yo. Al final casi siempre ests solo. Sobre todo si la persona a la que quieres duerme a tu lado. Y la oyes respirar. Pero t no duermes. T casi nunca duermes, ni Luis Oscar tampoco duerme. Qu l an tiene que hacer caja, echar a los pesados que miran a su novia y cerrar el local.