_New Mondays

From time to time I become obsessed with the idea of doing something of relevance with my life. It would have to be something fulfilling both in its usefulness – there’s room for argument in there – and its spiritual depth. Something that you would hold, or look at or think about and feel immediately lifted to a higher, better place. A happier place.

Living is about being happy. We achieve this both through most bizarre and simplest ways.

Sometimes – more and more often as we grow older, perhaps – happiness becomes a sort of currency that goes to the detriment of others’ happiness. As if there was a limited pool of it sitting somewhere and it fluctuated according to our actions like a moon-driven tide, pulled in cycles that remain yet to be figured out.

Some other times the chance to be happy is just in front of us, too frightening to even look at it. It seems never-ending, vast and free. Full of possibilities in itself, an enormous source of delight.  Some people take the leap and march ruthlessly towards a fearless existence, some others turn to the twisted version of the path to joy.

Of course, like many other things in this life of ours, there’s little room to judge which one is better than the other. After all, every single of us have different priorities marked by our own experiences and goals.

_Recess / Deep breathe and carry on

I rarely write nowadays.

This is not kept in secret but again who would really like to read about it or listen to it, rather? I am starting to think that adulthood is this kind of constant mess inside your head trying to figure out things that before were just a given, and then you figure something out and realise that you have left something very fucking important in the way.

The struggle is more or less OK to live with, but it doesn’t react well to external stimuli. Any kind of poking does indeed go down the hard route. Sometimes it is physical pain, sometimes is tiredness, others, this feeling in the gut. This feeling used to be just teenager anger, but now, it actually wounds the flesh of the abdominal area, creating actual injuries. No, this is not a metaphor.

Anyway, that anger used to be caused by the things that I couldn’t achieve. Now, on the other hand, it belongs more in the plethora of feelings provoked by the utter fear of losing something that I have, rather. This is one of my latest realisations. This is what I am on about here. As adult, pretty much everything is achievable – OK, at least as a young adult, living a modern, standard life in the developed world .(Yep, I am not foolish enough to ignore that this very text and the ones produced by me in the last 10 years are pretty much made up problems. I also know that this fact doesn’t make the problems go away).

If you want something you can trade money for, you buy it. If you want something you can achieve by making an effort, you do it. You might need to save or fight your laziness, but the chance lays there waiting for something to happen. Now, the things we may lose – and that we really want – these are the ones that give us the most grief: material things? For some, maybe. Everyone have things that they wouldn’t like to lose. Some have sentimental value, others are just expensive. Maybe most could be replaced. But what about the other things?

Maybe… your social appeal? Stopping being one of the players of the office to be part of the settled down group? What does that do for you, you should ask yourself. I can tell you know, that without experiencing the struggle, fantasizing about it won’t really do it.

What about your friends? Some people require tens of them in order to be fine. My theory is that they need to be distracted from themselves. I am not the best person to critisize this, to be honest. Although comfortable with myself, I must admit that from time to time I feel forced to slow my brain down, for my own safety. One cannot always just pound it with a six pack everytime things get a bit out of track.

I have taken a minute to read that last sentence. Yes – although I don’t think I have never been an alcoholic, I might have done a few silly things in the past. What can I say – it doesn’t really help. It’s all just a little game that can get too serious too quickly. I was thinking about it today, actually. I might have been well past the limits of common sense, and even found some kind of calm in that fact. What a twisted assertion.

Coming back to the topic, what about losing your loved one? What does that mean? I didn’t intend to sound so dramatic: the loss could be simply The Other Person losing interest. So you lose a person you love. And how is this different from going through that in your teens? Why am I saying that back then it was really not being able to be with that person, and now it is that you lose that person?

The thing is that it is not different. The effect in your body is as shitty as it would have been 10 – 15 years ago.

There is a main difference that supports the semantic rearrangement: you actually know what you are losing.

That’s what I think makes adulthood such a distressful place to be.

_Comfort Zones


Spat on my eyes the graffiti in front of a super massive council estate complex in Bermondsey. Was I? Well, most likely no, I wasn´t. Not at the time, for many reasons. I don´t particularly seek to analyze those reasons right now, as per they belong in my recurrent set of mind activity only and there is no point in advertising them here, or anywhere for that matter.

However, even if I ignored these things, I still wasn´t comfortable. And I am not yet.

There is no words to describe how much I despise the modern social conventions created to give individuals the ability to overcome lack of life fulfillment. You name it: God. Charity. Viral online campaigns.

Fuck off with this stuff already.

My comfort zone is in a place where only a few people can go, in a place where I don´t need to live to anyone else´s standards anymore. I accept my incapacity to overcome world´s injustice, and I refuse to be content with the mainstream trend of selective altruism that serves only one purpose: Save one´s ego from that same incapacity.

I live in acceptance: The World is hell, the world is war, the word is a disgusting joke yet I love to be alive and appreciate the moments of rare beauty that I happen to come across.

Deception is for the weak and the fake.

_No me pilla desprevenido

Juzgar es muy fácil y rápido, es prácticamente inevitable. Todos lo hacemos. No lo veo como algo necesariamente negativo, aunque si es verdad que es más sensato guardarse los juicios rápidos para uno mismo y no compartirlos a las primeras de cambio.

Hay personas con las que se pueden discutir estos temas, y la continuidad del juicio, forma una opinión. A más factores, a más tiempo de observación, más veraz – hipotéticamente – podemos decir que es esa opinión. Hasta llegar a la certeza.

Hoy en día, por una cosa o por otra, por cómo se han desarrollado mis facetas laboral y personal etcétera, poco me sorprende. En momentos de crisis, no hay nada como poder decir “ah, ya” y ver corroboradas las sospechas que han estado presentes en la vida de uno durante años. Desde que era un crío.

Es una sensación de victoria total. “Lo sabía”.

El problema es que no sirve de nada el “saberlo”, no sirve de nada, aparte de otorgar cierto grado de satisfacción personal. La crisis va a seguir ahí, y vas a tener que convencer a un idiota de que está equivocado, y, amigos, no hay nada más tedioso en este mundo que discutir con un idiota. Da igual el tono empleado, los argumentos blandidos: todo es inútil.

Y en esas vamos a vernos involucrados más pronto que tarde, por desgracia.

_Bouncy balls

You cannot kill a feeling by shooting it right in the head and walking away. Be certain that it will follow your trace back home and hit you back hard, just as you were about to fall asleep, right before you rinse the shampoo off your eyes, while you are trying to read that book that has been by your bedside for the last year and a half

The only way to kill a feeling is to help it kindly to the floor and kneel next to it, while it looks back at you in a daze of confusing discomfort. And then while you reassure that everything is going to be ok, then you grab it by the throat and hold on to it, tightening the grip gradually until blue arises all over its lips and cheeks. You grab the neck of the bastard and whisper “it’s ok. It’s all good” and stay there even if it gasps even if its claws dig in deep in your forearm or face.

You cannot escape from your feelings without making sure that they are not breathing anymore, without full-time involvement in their death.