miss saphiro would never look back

miss saphiro would never look back, h
every single time she would speak, think, understand or feel she would go frontwards
one day she told me her story... . it was in an old bar, and we met there by chance. it was pouring rain outside and we decided to pour some drinks on our own. it was long time since i saw her... well, since i listened to her. this time she looked more relieved
i started drinking some low class bourbon while she was looking at me, not touching her glass.
for some reason, every single set of words that come out of my mind sounded dull and arid. i drunk another sip to bellieve myself more intresting or to make an alternative for a rainny afternoon.
i understood i couldn't challenge that rain when she looked and me and started telling me her story.
 
after two hours the bottle was sand dry, but my lips were arid as my mind was before. miss saphiro looked at me with her wet catty eyes fulled with low class bourbon, looking straightforward as always.
she kissed my face, and asked me if i was feeling all right.
before i finished my yes she walked out of the bar, without looking back
the rain had stopped

what story was that b?

sorry h, i don't wanna go back there

and mind a lullaby (reprise)

h, i could use some rest.
sure, b, just whisper one of your songs... it makes the night milder

a moving target

h, if you move is more difficult to aim at you... but if you move is also more difficult to aim at someone
some things are useful in one perspective, but completely foolish in another one. what bothers me the most is that sometimes you are doing one thing, and you still don't know if you are being wise or just playing fool, it will always depend... but this, of course, only when you can´t understand what you want to do, either to shoot or be shooted...

b, why would anyone like to be shooted? is better to move.
can we stop for some water?

better be judged by twelve than carried by six

here comes another desert storm, h

sky is turning dark grey and sand like olive green. water will be pouring in a while, and it’s better for us to find some shelter.

some years ago, I saw a man riding in a desert storm just like this one to start. his horse was a old one, but he was running wild. I couldn’t say if he was running on the wind direction or opposite, because the air moved like a tornado near me when he passed by.

after some two minutes, seven people were riding, also in a wild speed, in the same direction the man that has just passed me by. seven people but eight horses. the lonely horse was riding free with some blood on his neck. i could see it was blood because of the reflection of the rain drawing in it.

but that lonely horse was ridding just following the other ones, and still had a riffle pending. someone was riding it before and had some kind of finale, i'm sure.

he was the last one trailing. he was black, shining black, like a piano. He look completely  mad running to trail the other ones.  he could't lost the pace of the other horses, but he look wounded.

i wanted to know what was that all about and i start riding in the same direction. when i arrived at the little village, i just ended up seeing the first man running (better trowing himself)  into the sheriff house and the seven ones trailing him starting riding on circles around the sheriff house. they shouted something inside, that i couldn't ear, but they looked quite raged. they walked away riding fast, and i still remeber the scared look of the people from the village looking at them going.

the lonely horse, however, stood there. shinning his black color and drinking some water drops remaining from the rain. 

he was finishing the storm

b, do you think I'm still shining?

going for the jugular

i want to tell you a story h, it's about something i saw when i was much younger, back in my homeland

it was one of that exhausting hot afternoons, when the sun is liquid. my old man was seated in a old wooden chair and i was laying on the floor, playing with the rusty yellow sand... he was smoking his pipe and probably thinking about some improvements he needed to do in the barn, to protect the animals from the lasting hot season.
then i heard my old man whispering me to stand still... he shouted with a whispering voice. i didn't move and i saw my father starring in the opposite direction i was facing. he gently placed the pipe in the sand without a sound and, like a ghost, he started with a feet after the other walking towards me.
when he passed close to me he lifted me with a sole hand. it was, until that moment, the most powerful move i ever saw a human doing. my child body was moved like if 8 horses, running wild, pushed me with a rope. he placed me in his shoulder and, again without a sound, started moving bacwards.
i didn't realize what was going on, but i was scared to that: i never saw my old man acting like that.
his sweat drops fall on my neck, and it was like small stones of ice... the sun wasn't liquid anymore. it was frozen
he than carried  me, very slowly - i was acting like a statue - to the entrance of our old house. then his body rotated and i could see, for the first time, the direction i wasn't facing since the beginning of this story.. there was a small rat in the dust that was, just like me, playing with the rusty yellow sand. only then could i focus my sight on something else... it was like the sand was moving, like if the wind was moving the sand in a line. the sand kept on moving really close to rat. than the rat felt on the floor and begun dancing with the sand.... but it wasn't a pleasant dance... it was like just the sand was paralyzing the small rat. then, from that line of sand a mouth opened and i heard i very silver sound. the dance stopped and the rat stood still, like a stone. my old man took me inside the house that same moment and i couldn't figure out how sand could dance with animals. i just remember the trembling voice of my old man shouting in silence, warning me never to distract myself when close to a snake... even if the snake looks like sand dancing

b, i really prefer when you tell me stories of people... we both know you don't have a clue about animals

   

the optimist

i love to play tricks, h. it's funny to watch other people reaction when they are not expecting what you're doing or saying. it's like taking people to a funeral and then start a party with can can dancers and mandolins.
people often don't like to be surprised this way... one is more used to accept surprises when the result is better that the expected, not the opposite way around. when the outcome is worst people don't call it a surprise... they often call it a disappointment, but it is a surprise just the same.
for me both are surprises. you just don't expect what you're having in the moment and, if you are brave enough to like surprises, you must be prepared to take both...
other thing i also like h, is to say yes and wave no with my head...

b, you just don't stop surprising me!
really h? for good or for bad?
you just surprise me b. you should like both answers the same way

sleepwalking.... and other modern tales

"h, last night, when i woke up, i was at a different place from where i started my sleep
could it be that i walked during my sleep?
i just don't know what happened. i could feel the first instants of sleep, in a melting conscience, but then, all of a sudden, i just didn't recognize nothing else. i have some explanations on my mind, rather than just a sleepwalking. someone took me here (or there, i still can't tell). it was a woman, with a painted face and with a liquid silhouette. she carried me, or made me follow her. but one thing was sure: it wasn't my initiative. it was a burden she made me carry. but i couldn't avoid moving. i wanted to see her face and recognize her, but the paint on (or of, i still can't tell) her face didn't stop moving and her face seem to change from one person to the other. and i seem tor recognize all of those faces... so i wasn't sleepwalking, i was just..."

b, wake up!!! and please shut up, please. stop talking while you're sleeping
you are dreaming about painted faces again and you're still in the same place

 

chase (hq)

 h, once a marshal entered my room chasing me!
i was sleeping and couldn't  figure what was happening
i just had time to have a sip of water and run.... honestly i can't tell you what i was running from...neither i can tell you if the marshal was chasing me. but what can a marshal do if he's breaking your door. in fact the door was probably open. but what can a marshal be doing entering your home at that time in the morning. i can tell you it was a morning. it was morning, all right...
that day i speed it up. i was running like a southern wind. that was the last time i saw that place... and also the last time i saw that marshal.

well.... i thought it was a marshal, but it could just be my landlord with a hat. i still don't know why i run that fast

b, nice dream. better you turn yourself in... or sleep again

(un)polite for a reason

look at that woman carrying that basket with that salted meat. She's starring and blaming us not to help her... i can feel it and i've been trough that before. she just wanted to take advantage of our condition tor est and to seed her laziness... to feed her inertia with our kindness and expected behaviors
h, i really don't like polite people. you can never tell if they use all the thanks and sorry just with a self purpose, just to get some advantage out of it or if they are truly considering others feelings and expectations
if one is polite you buy good feelings in people.
they appreciate that conventional consideration you're having with them, without realizing you're just puting some paint in top of the creature you are.
when you go to some point when you don't have time to thank or feelings to even regret what you're doing, you are driving into your real inner, without any kind of social mutilation or degeneration.
that is why i don't mind with rudeness. i think that's why i've become a little bit rude myself... i am just chasing human behavior and being human... at least as i see it should be...

Thank you so much for your opinion b, but please excuse me: i could not disagree more
please rest a little bit, as you were riding the whole day... i will carry the salted meat of that gentile lady and come back to pick you...
really hope you don't mind

... and mind a lullaby

what a nice music you're whispering, h...

"if you kill all my demons, my angels might die too"

h, there are two sides of my mind. one of those sides sees clearly and lead me the way. it's like a sweet symphony and the way ahead its quite clear, like when you see the horizon on a dry and mild sunset.
the other side is not as clear
i remember the first day i've noticed that... i was looking at my mother washing some white shirts at the sun. the terrace was all white, and the sun was autumn pale
my mother looked happy and she was singing, she was focused on the movements of her arms and she was thinking about something... i could tell.
i also started to look at her arms, shaping the white shirt into so many different forms until she finally placed the shirt, as a plain white form, drying at the sun
she then looked at me and noticed i was thinking about what she was thinking about. she told me not to think that over, and she spoke, as always, with a wise and calm tone, and her words were my way to do, and then i stoped
it was so easy to disconnect... i just needed to be told to do it, and i switched off
but that day i keep on thinking, and i went deep into that tough. what could my mother be thinking? i was, for the first time, on a mental free ride and i discovered that, when i started thinking after being told not to do it, it was not that clear anymore
a mental free ride is always a lonely one, you can't take anyone with you, not even your mother

b, it looks that this ride of yours is getting free, and i can see a crowd in your mind
if you don't mind let's stop 5 minutes... my head is struggling for some emptyness

 

small talk

always wanted to write a book. well, indeed i've tried it several times, but i was forced to stop, h.
many times i felt pursuit by words... i could never find the right ones and, after i finished some part of the book, words just flew into my mind, and they were always perfect for the case... by far better than those i've placed in the book.
but you can't change just a word... words dance ones with others, and you need to play a tune for them all, not just for a solo dancer
I always remember a man i've met in an old house, full of smoke. he was seated watching some can-can, with an empty glass and a smell of bourbon all around him, like a halo. he was repeating the same thing over and over: he was saying paranoid repeatedly. i stared at him for a while, listening to that strange sound coming out of his halo. he looked at me without stop the murmuring...
stare or go, i thought, so i kept listening to him
after sometime the word was loosing any sense or meaning. it was just a sound. like some spiraled wind, coming in my mind.
i think he was trying to get rid of some disease by throwing the meaning out of the word. perhaps he was tired of being called something and just needed to render the word meaningless... perhaps he would live better if he didn't understand the meaning of some words

Perhaps.... he was just some paranoid, b... and i would never trust someone with a bourbon halo

checkmate with a knight

h, many times i think reality surprises me... you can't never guess how your decisions will impact in your own life, and almost every time you find yourself facing consequences you could never expect.
i used to like to play chess. many times you could change the game with your moves, and you could see the consequences of your moves coming... you could either pursuit or be followed, but you could take the evolution of the game in your mind... playing with your mind. in life it's often the opposite
you play your moves, you plan the causality with reality and, at the end, your life comes different from what you've expected. and if you take decisions fast, you life turns much faster than the sequence of your moves
that's probably why people play chess with a watch. you need to have time to press the watch, otherwise the game goes out of your control, and you loose track of the consequence of the movements
i will try to take decisions slower and wait for the consequence before taking another one... life can be a chess game, it doesn't need to be like checkers... you need to pass the move to your opponen in a timely manner, not by pure instict. one needs to be polite with the timing of its actions, to get proper consequences

b, chess is not polite at all... you have a horse there and they call it a knight

turning a light...

Every time i wake up h, i still feel confused about my sleep
it's like someone who is slowing turning the lights on, and, in that time, you can't tell if the room is white, blue or green, squared or circled, or if you're setaed or turned upside down
probably that happens because my mind shuts down when i sleep. i release all the energies from the brain, and that's why people relax and feel more energyzed after sleep
I used to think sleeping was such a waste... however it's during the sleep time i take all the decisions i need... the good and the bad ones
I remember one day i needed to decide whether to visit a old cousin i had, with whom i din't speak for for years, after arguing over the origins of indian summer. i couldn't decide myself as i was coming to his hometown the day after, and it was the only shot i had to turn the relationship peacefull
I couldn't sleep all night, because i couldn't decide what to do. then the morning came, then the lights were all turned on, but, in fact, the lights were on the whole night
I just continued my dusty route and didn't stop by his house, but this wasn't a decison, it was just leting myself go. I think he died last year, but i'm not sure.
i really cared for him and he was right about the indian summer...



b, the thing that i like more about sleeping is dreaming...  and i can't take decisions with my mind turned off.
doesn't work for me...

a life lasts a lifetime...

h, these days i am feeling a new man
when i was young nothing could slow me down, but now i have feelings that i didn't before
surely your age changes the way you think. but does age bring new feelings? i am sure it does.
and that's because of your history. after so many crossroads you've gone trough, some feelings like curiosity and enthusiasm tend to erode, while other like clearness (is this a feeling h?) come often.
i am already feeling curious and enthusiastic about new feelings my life will bring me. hope times passes really fast h

b, feelings don't last for a lifetime. you've already told me so... perhaps you are getting old and not seeing things clear.
Can we stop 5 min b... i am feeling really curious about this nice shadow

harder than wood

look at that old toy in the road, h.
i think it's a wooden horse... some kid must have abandoned it here. but it's strange,
kids do not loose toys, they make part of their reality.
every toy is part of their own world and their story is all around the toys they have... and that is carried all your life
so i guess it is important the kind of toys a children has... it changes the way the child and adults see the world

that's right... world and reality are built around toys.  

b, i'll stop! it seems you want that horse for yourself

the birds are wild... neither is the snake

are you listening to this song h? I think is a mocking bird...no, it's some bird of prey
it freaks me  listening to birds whistles... you never know why they are screaming like that. perhaps they are hunting, perhaps they are sleepy, you don't have any way to figure out why.
you're so used to understand sounds, that i feel uncomfortable when i don't understand what i am hearing.
it's like when you're a baby and just hear strange sounds, without knowing what is being said...
perhaps this is just me going back to those times. misunderstanding.
i can't understand birds and that freaks me a little bit.

b, snakes also frighten me. they can kill me with a bite!

walk the circle...

h, let's do a half turn and go that way. let's check those mountains
An half turn is like an half circle? when people tell you to change direction, they tell you to turn 180 degrees,,, to be different. once i saw someone laugh when i told him to make a 360º turn in his life. It was my mistake... but now i would have say that again.the reason is simple. in a road you can turn. you take yoursel and your ride to another road, to see different things. perhaps to go to places you never hit before, or perhaps to avoid places you never visited before.
but, on your life (and on yourself), you can't change that much. you can learn, try, fail, discover, hide, explore but, at the end, your the same one. your bones are the same, your brain is the same, and your history is the same. that you can't change
so, people can do some turns, but they will end up in the same place. probably with different perspectives or feelings, but one is always the same one
So, you can't do half turns on your life...

Stop it b.... stop! now you're really making me dizzy
i can't do the turn or i'll rollover. let's keep this road

Consuelo

once i was in a bar after a long long winter day, h. it was  colder inside than outside, and all tables were fill with empty glasses. Before asking something, i've tried to take the empty glasses out of the table and place them on the tab. i couldn't... the tab was also full of empty glasses... and i've never seen a bar with that many glasses.
all of the glasses looked the same... tall, empty and used. only three tables of the bar were taken, two couples and a bunch of farmers. everyone was smoking. i went to the tab and ask for a beer... there was only one person behind the tab, a old mexican woman, washing the glasses. she had a  tatoo in her arm... the wasted ink draw something like consuelo, if i'm well remembered.
i asked for the beer three times, and the woman kept on washing the glasses, the couples kept arguing and the farmers kept smoking. So, i left... and tried a beer some other place. What to they need a waiter for h, if she doesn't serve the clients?

to wash the glasses, b
(...)
perhaps the bar was already closed.... that's why it was colder inside than outside


   

 

hibryd fuel

every time i feel this cold breeze i miss the hot summer sun.  the pavement melting, the rides with the shaking shadow, the sweat, gluing the cloud dust that crashes with skin...
but it's funny h.... in summer i miss cold winter mornings. with fog rising from the water, hard bones trying to flex your joints, dry snow dust hitting the hat...
and when winter comes i can't say i like it, although i've been waiting for it.
remember me this if i start talking about winter next summer.

by the way b, last summer you've asked me to remember if you started talking about summer in winter
sorry! i forgot it

Sure! Just let myself know....

h, have you ever seen that sessions where the same person  takes a snapshot on the same position year after year?
i would love to do it... it's a calendar of your life, and you can see all the changes, clothes, and, well, everything else that you've valued on that part of your life

and it's also useful for others... for the ones that just know you and can't imagine you younger (not much young, just a litttle bit... well, they can choose)
id's should have this kind of photos. if they (you know what i mean...) want to refer to some specific situation, you should be able to see the face of the person at the time of the fact... not the fact the person choose to have on the id

in fact, you shouldn't let people choose the photos they have in id's... it's a fake

b, i see you don't like your new haircut...

 

S(th)ing

once i was running
up the green hill
looking for my sweet one
the one my heart could fill


she is part of my life
my sweet long embrace
she kept all fears away
with a gentle shinning face


sorry b, can you sing only for your mind to listen?
It's like rain... it gets into my bones

stare.... or go

h, look at that old man staring at us...
some people dare to stare at you, challenging your personality... well, but that just only when they stare at your eyes.
i once was told that is not polite to stare. what do you think? For me staring is fine. old people use to stare a lot, like they look at what they've lost. I think old people stare because they want to get some good memories back, an they project on you what they were.
so, you are like a mirror for people.... that's why they stare!

He is not staring b, i think he's blind
can we stop for 5 minutes? it's raining again

yes, it rains

h, what a storm!
this was a big one and all this rain is cleaning the road ahead.
so curious... every time it rains, the shapes look more defined and colors more bright...
and you can feel the rain stopping. once I've tried to find the last raindrop falling and catch it with a cup.
i could never do it.... i was never sure wich was the last and i wouldn't like to do such a stupid thing with a regular raindrop...
(...)
b... i used also to like rain. no i don't... It gets inside my bones