About the Woozyness

A Week and Picture: Do I have a fetish for sky pictures? Apparently. I have to try and not take pictures of the sky. Although you could say I like to be in the clouds. Oh, tricky revelations. Take something meaningful and materialize somewhere else.

Location: Study - Incense got back - wondrous

Feeling: Happy

Listening to: Coldplay - Lovers in Japan

As a power I consider myself proud of, I find that adjectives are really good when repositioned or pulled out of thin air. Say for example, can you classify a lunch with friends as sexy? Or the nice sensation following a sunday afternoon woozy? Oh well. Woozyness, delightful. Happiness? A week of uttermost relax, that comes with sensations you had completely forgotten that you could feel. Loitering in math class, writing blastering poetry, reading about aging Japanese folk. A sense of freedom that comes with an earnest voyage. It just blows you away.

School is history, and history is a charm. With all these days, and moths of (nearly) tireless school work, you feel such freedom, that you realize that once you've finished studying, you have absolutely nothing else to do. What the fuck? I don't do shit! I have been reading at an alarming rate. Say, the Kawabata book barely advanced in past weeks, but in the las one I soared half of the book, and I'm pretty sure I'll finish it this week. Therefore I'll be taking the other books to Spain. Its a charm. The trip just gets looking better and better, so many things in mind. People at apparently their best (Although some will be just as idiotic as always, barely two or three). the other folks are a nice crowd. And well, I fell those 25 days will be something grand and worthy of dumb pictures, clichéd collages and (yet again) woozy slide presentations. At this age I already have the consciousness of being sure I keep any trip present in my mind. Although all trips eventually fall from one's memory, some just stay. I can't remember any trip of before I was 15. But now I know better, and take the best of them.

Have nearly everything bought. Papers in order, missiles in the silo (Yes Laughing Buddha! We must bombard!), mind in place. Music to be ordered, bag to be packed, sewing to be done. And yet just one cap or hat to be found. And then I go into the wonderful sensation that is El Dorado and take off to a Peninsula that reminds me of a really really really distant relative that you only saw once. And I'm missing people already. Its just 25 days, but you just don't know how attached you are to people until you leave'em. Yet so many you feel you take with you, in clothing, papers and other crap. But so few with myself emotionally. I feel attached to few people. That's good. Now I just feel weird.

Didn't really say much in this entry did I? Doesn't matter, I'm just happy. By the way (mostly to fill in space), here's the little composition I told you about earlier. I plan (Hoping not to fail), to make a poem for every city we go to. And then another for Spain as a whole.

Thy strange letter, we met again.

Octopus of darkness, a thousand faces you have.

Dare you curse me? Counter, slap I thou!

Try you to appeal upon my faint imperial 

presence.

No face can you possess to make me change 

my guard. 

Spores thou leave upon a molested and bad 

green.

Devil! Written by beast’s prophet,

Thy curses sting me no more.

Speak of gray do you? Counter, shoot I thou!                                                                       

Deaf, deaf I am to you, like the stone I see 

between us. 

The bright blessing of indifference will have 

word and soul.

Slash and slap your cheeks of dead, immortal 

you may be.

I'll see you in a week from the mystic city of Córdoba, Andalucía.

Sharkman, signing off.

P.S: Pick a card, any card. Throw it at the judge.

Flying, actually

A Week and Picture: Steve took this one. Nice, huh? I suppose you're asking yourselves who Steve is (Or maybe not), well I'll explain further on. I'm back, back to the surface.

Location: Study – Incense found the light switch – floating

Feeling: Relieved

Listening to: Coldplay – Green Eyes

People. I'm back.

The long dark, damp and damn tunnel is over. I see my life in new light. In the last three weeks much has happened my friends, much.

How can I start? Well first of all I can tell you that financial solutions are over, and here at home a time of prosperity is being enjoyed. We are no longer leashed to the apartment and have begun doing other activities rather than staying inside doing barely anything. According to this order, I have started buying stuff for the peninsula trip and getting my strange hype. I have covered everything really, except a hat. My head, as I told you on an entry, long, long ago, is really big. No cap will fit me. And I am in urgent process of finding one that does fit me. Mother says something like a llanero or vueltiao hat can do, but I'm sorry, I hate that kind of hats, and will have to find a cap that fits. I got meself some shoes, that I have to get used to, and I must say are really comfortable for walking. But enough about clothes, I hate being "Y"ish. Two weeks ago I bought a little buddy, I called him Steve (What? A pet?). Steve is the name of my new Nokia 3500, and finally FINALLY I have my music wherever I go, whenever I want it. Why did I name him Steve? Well, because I feel that that way I can appreciate it and take care of it more and besides, he's a mind slave (Binky Boy) and my hands are the Millennium rod. Steve has a kickass speaker and a 2.0 megapixel camera, that takes quite decent pictures. He's as orange as Garfield, and just as obnoxious.

Apart from the purchasing gone crazy, I entered a massive week full of exams and work. Fuck, its been one of the toughest weeks of my life. Plenty exams that ranged from darling history, to flyover economy, to baked lengua and an empty strike to the horror beast (math). I fared well in all of them (except you know which) and I call this whole nightmare shift over when the prophet of the beast (math teacher) told me I had successfully passed the subject and that he wished me good luck for the road ahead. I was free. Its really hard for me, almost impossible, to describe the feeling of never seeing maths ever again. Its like a massive boulder has been taken from your back, and you fully stand up, not remembering anything of what it was like to hold it, feeling you bleed somewhere and sweat in tears and vapor. It's over, I walk in a atmosphere of freedom that simply has me up and happy nearly all the time. I could be the happiest I've ever been. Even though the worst part has passed, and school has already become a dead give-away, I have still some minor exams this week, not to mention a Lengua essay, but doing them is now, mentally speaking, easier.

These days, weeks. I have felt a change in my life has begun. My student years are getting behind me and I see the next phase of my journey about to commence. I see a bright road, challenging, that doesn't lead to Oz thankfully. Things change in a more evident way now. Nearly always, I see the prospekts of beyond materializing, something being done. To put it in a minor and easy way, in an example perhaps, I have returned to books. Reading is a rediscovered passion that I had in stand-by for more than a year. Spain will be a nice place to get back to reading fully, not to mention bonding with friends. I want to make tho most of that trip in every sense, not to ever forget it. Not to forget seeing the paintings in the Prado museum, not to forget the streets of Toledo, not to forget our horizon and experience on a mediterranean view.

I'm back folks, better than ever, posting every sunday, here or in the peninsula, telling you everything. The Shark is in the grasp of your knowledge.

Long entry, you deserved it.

Sharkman, signing off.

P.S: Laughing Buddha, you're a fucking god. Thank you for everything.

The Gongs must not be Altered!

A Week and Picture: Spain, stain, rain, pain!! Freaky Rhyme! What's this? Hell if I know, I just took the most apealling photo in my library and posted it here! God that sky is fucked up.

Location: Study - Incense finally ran out - Paranoieuphoric

Feeling: giddy

Listening to: AC/DC - Highway to Hell

Fine!!! Two weeks late, I see your (invisible) point. And yeah, there's no excuse I dozed off, again! I'll try to start posting thursdays then, why? Because thursday afternoons are relatively relaxed, of what's left of the year of course. I can assure you next thursdays entry will be big and good, but the next two thursdays will have really short entries, I might even not post. Its examdemonium, and I have to study until my retinas bleed. Including the horror!

Speaking of which, I give thee a proclamation, and I repeat, the Gongs must not be altered!!(Wha? What "Gongs"?) When I want a do a countdown (specially long ones) instead of numbers, I use Gongs (Yes, as in big metallic roundels that sound deeply. Little drawed ones in my horror notebook), ordinal Gongs. And as the oddball I am, I mentally commission them, so that a standard number of Gongs will be used for certain countdown. But what am I making a countdown of? Days left till I leave for the Peninsula? Nope, horror (math) exams. There are (were) three, so I mentally commissioned 3 Gongs. And well, I don't want to comission a fourth, the idea that I have to add another Gong to my suffering. By Supay in the underworld, I can't stand that mother fucking class anymore!! That guy has to be an ass to seriously do class after he checks and passes all the grades. But nooo, he had to be as bitter as a jalapeño dipped in lemonade with salt, and piss us all off. Anyhoo, I ain't writin' a single more line of horrific hieroglyphs on my paper. After grades are set, you are all cordially invited to the burning of horror, I consider that shite worse than those monks considerer the Mayan codes. In other exams, the nastiness is actually the amount rather than the subject. History is always a pleasure, and well, uh, lets say "conveniently", the block is not too long, even if its 45 years long. Other subjects are well, something a little bit more tedious to study, such as Lengua and Economy. Oh and of course, Latin is always a bitch, but hopefuly I passed that one already.

In other news....

Yesterday and today I finally went shopping for some clothes in more than a year! It sure is a breath of fresh air to use new clothes. Although the clothes I bought today are mainly for the trip to the peninsula, some are perfectly usable for the Condor's Nest. Sorry, but this is all I can write for you today, My effing PC is slow and time is running short. Tomorrow is all about studying. Inti, give me patience!!

Sharkman, signing off.

P.S: Well I don't know if its a Highway, but it leads to Hell alright.

Shop Chop Off

A week and Picture: I'm running out of good pitures to show you guys. I need to have the habit to take the camera around. I actually had a good picture to post, but Flying Deustchman won't give it to me! May you eat soup!

Location: Study - Incense must snap me out of it - Ready?

Feeling: Worried

Listening to: Coldplay - Viva La Vida

Oh Tezcatlipoca in the lower heavens, Chucho in the mid heavens and Chuck Norris in the high heavens, hear my plea! I call upon you to bless me in the tight week, to illuminate my brains (remember to immediatly switch off the left side) and give me the grades I hope for, and the will to stop me from killing purple dressed Haitians.

This upcoming week is plagued by four exams. And I know that two of them must be a witness of my "exellence" in their fields, another I want it to be just as straightforward as past ones, and the last one hopefuly will grant me a lazy 5. (You know which) Laughing Buddha, your task is to teach me to confront the numerical horrors and not break into tears. I will also need a M16 rifle, just in case. This sunday was mostly a rest, a bit cranky in the beggining, but ok in th end. I had a McDonald's burguer, and as the last time, it tastet blankly and rubbery. In the Peninsula, I'll tag the Subways. I had a very bipolar weekend, from happy to frightened, and from saddened to surprised. I hate that, can't I just process it all without transition? (Get a psychologist, a good one). I really dozed off last week, I barely studied for anything, and had quite a fright when I was practically blank for a economy exam, when the U.S visa thingy saved me (I got that visa, but I didn't get the one for Middle-Earth!). So, this week, I have to study as if my life depended on it (I think it does. Fuck). Now, it seems that teh metal on my teeth will leave soon. Hey, my orthodontist (Is that right?) has been telling me I might finish in very few time, but this time, he gave me a very secure affirmation and started talking dates and retainers (My mouth digs metal). Well, it seems that the prospekt of going to the peninsula braces free might be accomplished (as I told you, never have anything for granted, its horrible when it doesn't happen). Also, this week (Oh fuck the exams!) I need an appointment with my dermathologist, so I can finally end this horrible pill treatment. The redness will fade away and I will be acne free!! Speaking of which, my mother and I went to shop for the first time in months this saturday, I needed some new school trousers. We seized the opportunity and check out some bags and sunglasses. We found an awesome bag, that fitted all our needs perfectly, and was justa charm. I just hope its still there when we go buy it! The glasses I realized I wanted something sober and classic, something between John Lennon and cop sunglasses, but nothing that evokes aerodinamic color changing ones. We also searched for caps, and well as my head is massive, and few suited the size, mom wondered if a hat was more appropriate, let hope that a trip to the city center can get me a nice hat. I noticed that I really can't shop without my mother, she just knows best. I'll eventually get better.

Yes!! My beloved fucking neohippies have finally realeased new singles. Three years in the waiting and I had my doubts about how the new album was going to be. First it was the Title, Viva La Vida seemed more like a title proper of the masters of cheesyness of innocent Latin America. Then it was the cover, La Liberté Guidant le Peuple, by Eugène Delacroix. What? Where's the innovative artwork, the amazing looks and original ideas. Then the single's name is Violet Hill. Ok, what's with the color and strande meaning? This doesn't smell like Coldplay! But then, victory! Violet Hill is a kickass song, and the next one, which I was given today is just marvelous, this looks better than A Ruch of Blood to the Head. Will it be? I can't wait for june 16.

I would do almost anything for a powerful laptop and a PC copy of GTA IV, they say its so good you won't stop playing it until you finish it.

I want to go to Liberty City, on USS New Jersey.

Sharkman, signing off.

P.S: Yes! R. your name is now Shaking Hoofs!

The Rustle of Paper

A Week and Picture: A dead building. Or , so it might be hibernating. Who cares, it represents urban decadency, this city has been always in ruins, but what the heck, I love my piece of shit.

Location: Computer Room at school - Thought I would find incense here - Rustling paper

Feeling: Awake

Listening to: Teenage delirium, a blank stare silence

(Should we get used to you posting late?).

No. I just had a normal 2 day weekend become a delirious and jolly 5-day break. Wouldn't you doze off? (Specially when you have Wandering British and Flying Deutschman fooling around).

(Are you considering changing the usual Sunday post to another day?).

Not for now, but if this happens again, I might consider it.

(Great, we can continue to try and make your life complete).

Go to hell.

Was this a FAQ? (FAQ you!) Hopefuly no, I find them the most useless sometimes.

Yes, I posted late (AGAIN), but I already told you why. So let me kinda tell you what I did in these five (Amazingly necessary) days. Wednesday I went to the fair, and indeed it was a nice time of every year. This was the third time I go, and I realized that the stands are always in the same place, and well, even knowing this, you find stands that you could swear you never saw in past fairs. Remember the books I told you I was going to buy last entry, well, I didn't buy any of them (Surprise? Don't think so. I love being unpredictable). Sorta really, I did buy a book by Yasunari Kawabata, The Sound of the Mountain, which is now first in the reading list. Although I later found out that it tells about aging, I found it quite nice to read, its short, not complicated, yet still has a beauty that seems so western. Will it be worth it to learn Japanese to read this book in its original language? Don't know, I'll finish it first. 

Odd enough, Kenzaburo Oe's books were nowhere to be seen. Second, is a book that I bought out of just pure need of entertainment and pretty thoughts. The Conqueror, by Argentine write Federico Andahazi. It tells the story of a bright Mexica priest-warrior who finds out that there is another land on the other side of the ocean, and that when he goes to meet the new chaps, he realizes that those crazy bastards are going to destroy everything he loves (Oh noes!). Imagine that. Its like candy made of literature. Third is one that I'm a little scared because I bought it by looking the back of it and because it looked pretty. My name is Red, by Turkish nobel prize-winner Orhan Pamuk. Hey, my Islamic fascination isn't dead (Not with the Andalusian prospekt). It tells about an Otoman Sultan who wants to get a painted portrait a la Tiziano, but Sweet Lord Muhhamad's (Islamic) law forbids it. Little Sultan gets painted anyways (How wude!), everything is A-ok until one painter goes missing. I suppose that if I have a continuous reading rythm (Which I don't) I'll have 'em read by the end of June. Oh, and, as a bonus, I bought The Raven and other poems by Edgar Allan Poe. God that poem has a massive power, first horror stories indeed. He might have been the Proto-emo, but I'd rather think he wasn't.

I'm running out of time, so see ya nest sunday, cheers.

Sharkman, signing off.

P.S: What's a watch for if you can't have time?

Wrote this later: Sheesh!!! I rushed this information so fast that I guffaffed a lot of it back at 11 o'clock. I post it nice and neat again at 8. Fuck, I AM a mess.

Some Nobel's Novels

A week and Picture: It’s a tree. Ooooh. I really must tell you that one of my crappiest stories was based on this kind of tree, and that because of it I sense I was given a very innocent pity. I most certainly hate being pitied.

Location: Study - Wish incense would take me somewhere else - passive panicking

Feeling: blank

Listening to: Cafe Tacuba - Puntos Cardinales

Oh give it a break, I just don't see usefulness in it, its nothing but good for nothing crap! There was no pleasure, no experience, if you fail it, then, who cares a fuck?! Let it die, and hopefully my pity will have him speaking of Bach again.

I hate subtle revelations. They leave me doubting in a mental crossroads. Ever have I known of a vocation of mine, but I just can't find it. Its like that other sock you lost in the washing machine, it just vanishes, just to appear in the most unusual of places. The first vocation I ever granted to meself was that of a diplomat. I've always been a good arbiter, solving conflicts was a plus and still is in my life. Then came writing. I liked it, and well being young and all, I noticed I could make a living out of it, nice. But, when you start creating a writer from scrap, with books as disdainful as a Code from a marvelous pseudo-inventor and painter, or a series about a teenager with issues whose surname reminds me of Maria Juana [We get along well, she and me, but I just don't like her (Right now you are thinking of either the bugging you're gonna give me or a conversation that I had with myself weeks ago)]. Writing is tough for me, I have potential, but as I am human, I can be weak of mind. Jealousy? But of course. I actually find satisfaction in admitting these things. I have a very lousy and even terrible writing vocation. My writing is shit. I look at whatever I write and realize I am no better than your curious amateur. Things to save for the future will be my forgotten past? Of course, I don't consider it a total (But partial yes) waste of time. Some lost verses and only two stories are the only things of which I'm proud of. How do I know? Because I read them and notice I like them, that they indeed let me see my vocation. Anyways, why am I writing this? Because I think I know how to find my vocation. It so happens that of all the people that can come across this humble blog, my mother found it. She was quite amazed, and I just felt flattered. Then she told me something quite interesting, characteristic of my mother's seemingly eternal wisdom. She asked if I wrote for others or for my self. And I realized, i write for others. Those exceptional pieces of literature, I wrote them for me. Not intended to be seen by any others, well, except for one, which was dedicated for somebody, but that's another story. So, I must write for myself. I don't have that time right now, but I promise I'll have something by next sunday, let it be a poem, story or even a chapter. Good luck.

Hold on, does that mean I never had writer's block? Oh forget about it.

Book fair has finally begun, and although I think I mentioned some books I wanted to buy some 10 entries ago, but I can't remember and I don't want to look. I will buy 3 books (The shortage gets the best of me) One will be a Taschen art book, Edward Hopper to be precise. The other two will be novels by Nobels. Hehe...This year’s invitée is Japan, so I'll buy a book by Yasunari Kawabata called The Old Capital. Why? First, because it was the most attractive synopsis, and secondly, I just didn't like the thrashing and spoiled style of Kenzaburo Ōe, even if he’s, let's say, closer. The other Novel must be one by a Spanish speaking author, and must be picked very well, as in reading the first five pages or so. In past fairs, I bought a book based on the title and the premise described on the back cover. So it ended in books that I have christened "quixotic", because like El Quijote, I won't read'em until well entered my life. Say for example, The Portrait of Dorian Gray, by Oscar Wilde. Too much said in so few time. In a minute of real time in the book, Widle makes you process more information that some "Y" drones have ever processed at once, system overload dude, but I must admit its quite beautiful writing (for someone I am scared to meet). Rayuela, by Julio Cortázar. It doesn't move. The first chapter spans around for some 10 pages, but in book time, no more than 15 minutes pass. I like the book to be a bit active. And then there's a book I did read, called The Egyptologist, that I read with a massive amount of effort. It took me 9 months to read it, 9 months! I read slowly, and man was that book slow and heavy. So yeah, I have to pick my books correctly, otherwise, its paper tediousness.

I have mini vacations, a nice time to relax and write before gathering breath, for the next great plunge begins.

Sharkman, signing off.

P.S: You, the emo/japanese geek/singer, your nickname is now "Flying Deustchman".

The Death Dance Day

A Week and Picture: Blinding Lights, Blinding Night, let’s all do the Death Dance and break havoc about the stoopid. The moon was witness, a sign? I don’t know, I just know she liked it.

Location: Study – Incense must dance – formerly quixotic

Feeling: Worried whilst asleep

Listening to: Stan Getz & João Gilberto – O Grande Amor

I sometimes think that whatever will be of my life will be a very realistic dream. Sometimes, I think it will be an irrelevant plus. The mountain range of my mind is even impossible to comprehend by myself. I wonder endlessly by it, finding very common places, or searching the highest peaks but still not understanding the horizon. Lush valleys are very present, but places I had not visited for ages tend to appear sometimes. And let's not mention the caves. In times, I feel like a genius that climbs on mental summits no one else climbs, and sometimes like someone who is mentally lost and won't make a difference. But one thing I know, I can be crazy.

Evening. I noticed that I tend to write late, but I don't think I could write much earlier that 3 or 4. A recount of a long week makes it seem very short, and that time is something that expires a lot, you just don't appreciate it because you know there's more coming. I sense I'm trusting myself, and I can't place the pinch to tell me: ''Oh fuck! Its the last trimester, your last chance to get awesome grades!!" But maybe because I gave such a wide and toxic sigh at the end of the second, or the impression that this one's eternal (20 days have passed, is that accountable? Shoot at the count of three). Well, maybe the pinch is this week , as I have the 4th block history exams (The fun part of the historic roller coaster has passed). Up to World War II and the lot, best history classes of my life. I know that history is by far my best subject and a grade under seven in this block means auto-flagellation (Not very ritualish, but God oh my, very painful yes). Everything goes into the mountain range very easily, making high summits rise even more, but the Great Depression is a bunch of gibberish that I like to compare to Sim-talk. Hey, if anybody's listening, get me a time machine for christmas. Philosophy finally got good, but when good has to come by your part, making it good is just as hard as you most utterly wish it wasn't. Math, is as always, a whole mount of crap. Only this time I have been ignoring it maybe just too much, and i worry for the first exam (When you shouldn't, sheesh). And other subjects are well, how to say this, giving a a fun loop. Lengua is as dull as ever, but the new book to read is, quite frankly, like an ancient parody positioned in this century. Latin is suddenly all about verbs, economy made me good, english is more commonly a laugh. Instituciones is Independence History, and it would seem that no studying will be necessary for the exam (remind you of anything?). And I'm giving the sports battle of my life in P.E, but, you guessed it, in the sissy sport of badminton, against who is probably the third best person in the class I gave astonishing 10-15 first set, all the class. The second remains to be seen.

Friday was Death Dance Day. What's this holiday I speak of? A holiday I created to remind my adolescence, and a milestone of bizarre friendship and the living proof that imagination is the best drug! Anyways, me and my mates [Laughing Buddha and Wandering British(Those are your new nicknames, get used to them)]. Went for coffee (Hold on, maybe it was that! Augh! Who cares...cantáaa che, cantáaa). We then went to a park, that had a mery urban sight, and then.... Imagination Attack. My God, what a stream of consciousness. I just went gaga british blabbering and awesome laughs all around. But the triggering for the Death Dance was something else. Wandering British just, ran, out of nowhere, he ran. Out of our sight and around the block. I cannot say that I've ever been so proud. I knew from that moment that we were something entirely different, and that you are something else. Welcome to weirdness. Then, out of the deshinibition, I warned Laughing Buddha and did the Death Dance. A humble and probably unintentioned mock to the ancient ones, who did war while chanting. Me, spinning and jumping, moving fast and falling down laughing. One of the best days of my life. April 18th, for the rest of my life will forever be, the Death Dance Day.

I was curious about smoking, but nah, I realized that its just crap. Don't need it.

Sharkman, signing off.

P.S: Wandering British, you owe me money. Oh and, uh, Laughing Buddha I hate you (Ó).