The Angel

For tonight I can sit back and relax; the week is over, I've drank a bottle of wine and I've just uncorked another. I've finished a movie and poured another glass. There was something in it that struck me, a recollection of places and things, of people and circumstances. It made real what felt like a shadow already, because it's so far away and it felt so long ago. There was always something in the moment that distracted me. Or maybe I have adjusted, not with life, but with the convenience this has afforded me. There's something missing, however; this feels like a pause towards something I'm colliding into. I know I will have to go back, maybe not now, but in due time. Because there's nothing here for me, but a kind of happiness that seems superficial and popular. If I had wanted something to happen, it would've happened already.  When dogs were chasing me and guys were disrobing in front of me. I knew what I was here for and it was not for those. Th

I woke up early with a song looped in the background and in my head.  It was too early, the day has not yet fully broken. I went down and brewed some coffee, sat on the sofa and waited in a state of semi-darkness and half-wakefulness.  I went back to my room holding a mug, warming my hands and my heart, waking my senses from a slumber deep and unprovoked by dreams or nightmares.  There was a longing, a wistfulness of having remembered a life. There had been many seasons and they had come and gone, along with strangers and their picture frames, phantoms wearing masks of bliss, subtle yet sure of what they had all asked of me. I had stood resolute, quietly and determinedly, to maintain a certain distance. There were other ties to consider and options to weigh. There were expectations and experiences that others wanted me to have, or at least try.  I had thought about them, many times and long enough; I felt it too early to stop dreaming for myself and start dreaming for two people.  Wh

Inasmuch as I want to do away with computers, I can't.  It's my bread and butter.  Without it, I'd be a pornstar.  But I've been trying to limit myself, or at least be conscious of, how much time I spend online.  It seems I am always online or I can always be online.  I sleep and wake up with a cellphone beside me, the first and last thing I check when I wake up and before I sleep.  That is if I don't fall asleep holding a book. I see it, now, as a necessity to stay connected to the life I used to live; but I'm still censuring myself.  There are times I feel like I go overboard, saying a hundred million spontaneous things that's like opening a floodgate of consciousness than a stream.  I want to take a step back and just observe, for the meantime.  Stay in the background and just read, occasionally posting random things in blogs, commenting on certain tweets or Facebook statuses.  There are a lot of excesses I can live without. It was a weird feeling tod

Before I enrolled in a gym and started working out, which was more than a year ago, I've always had this idea of the kind of body I'd like to achieve.  Broad shoulders that slim down to sexy pelvic cuts.  That has always been my kind of sexy, something that resembles the letter V.  On the other hand, Johnny Bravo much? I was intent on having that so initially my routine for the nine months I had regularly gone to the gym was to follow the cutie.  Kidding.  Most of the workouts I had done were targeted for my shoulders and cuts on my back.  Now I realize I have disproportionately small arms, like a snowman with twigs for arms.  I've never really focused on triceps and biceps exercises, doing them only if I had time to spare before exhaustion drove me to narcolepsy or hot legs distract me. There was a long interval between the last time I had gone to the gym and when I started again after moving from one country to another.  I didn't know what to do and, sometimes, I