Headrush

 

You are an empty something (I am)

Maybe when I saw your face bleeding,

            across the room, blinking lights and my heart the same

I was seeing something ooze

from you soul (your right eye).

How can I ever judge you when my head swims with infidelity and vacillating disappointment?

What was that word you told me to remember,

other you,

some sort of crystal eyed favorite, a blessed child gone all crooked bent and stray

and still loved so wholesomely,

and how are we still sorting through and categorizing,

judgments falling jagged like bricks like

my stubborn spine like

red blood cells and all our breathy deficiencies.

Oh, sigh, trailer, take me home,

            whatever that means,

just to let me

sit

down

heavily, sighing, and rely all over you,

sloppy like the creature that nowadays seems like an embarrassing fairytale.

Choosing is always a difficult thing,

for a fickle, pale person, for an  undecided soul,

and yet when the choice is one of skin and sinew and soul,

and when the options are as vague and intangible,

abstract like gaseous memories of throbbing feet and swollen tongues

of pine trees looming like antiquated morals

of chattering teeth,

and yet…

Oh, eternal unformulated self

            what is this thing?

What are we to do, what have we done, where did we go?

Where do our unspoken words wander, and where are the words we’ve spoken

            into an earshattering racket,

fractured, bruised, do they ever find a home,

in the hollows of our unconscious?

And, and,

reverberating cries, hollow eyes,

these are all the things that make reality despicable and false,

there is nothing to believe,

anymore.

And all this is just a headrush and a cough,

and all this is just your body, a thing as disposable as redwhiteandblue

paper cups.

I am the most contained,

I am the most free,

I am your average contradiction, a pair of bruised legs and

a head full of Spanish heat and questions,

expectations and overseas airline confusion,

cat fur,

dirty nails,

dinner at 9 or 10,

unaddressed postcards, unaddressed problems,

flutters and shudders,

sweat.

One More Weekend

Mellow late night pancake dinner, the Alhambra a'glow perched up in front of Mauna's terrace, tank top weather, sweating and searching for Fall classes, living room full of bare feet, Borja and his Italiana in aprons, beer and nisperos, tart orange fruit with thin skin and glossy chestnut seeds, shade in the huerto, a dog named Pulga (Flea!), hacky sack wars, dashing around at dusk, rabbit squeal at dinner, poor thing half-limp, Gato as fat and sleepy-eyed as ever, hot sauce, salad, police and personal space, borrachera and malabares, Pedro Antonio, girls with bangs and cigarettes, los 15 gatxs, dance, dance, surrender to the ridiculous, shadowy faces, free beer, stumble home, five minute bench break (vagabunda!) morning resaca, transnational delirium with Kim (5 days now!), bunny sized heart attack, water-soaked terraza, march down Gran Vía, dogs and big happy posters of protest, dancing foot steps and shaved heads, hot cement, the 99%, education, health, the sun slips away to the sounds of crackling megaphone cries, back at Adri's the lights are red, the music loud, my eyes are heavy, Saturday sun as hot as Hell, four pm rubbing the sleep out of my eyes, litro for breakfast, sweating on the bus, Vico tells me he doesn't want to be American, listen to American music, quick sandwiches, Google maps, exploding beer, up the hill (sweat!), pine needles under my feet, roving in the dark, muddy legs and sleepy eyes, headless bird surprise...

Let the Mayhem Begin

Alright, it's been a while since I've sat down and written something about what exactly I've been doing these days. Here's what's been going on:

My house is still wonderful, and it's more of a BroMansion than ever, since yet another dude has taken to inhabiting our basement, but he's also a mega chiller; David's long-haired juggling friend, Guillermo. He's older and cleaner than everyone else. A while back Matteo found a kitten in a trashcan (and when I say kitten I mean eyes-still closed, so small I thought it was a hamster, kitten) and we all become a like four-headed cat mama and fed him with a little squirty thing like a billions times a day, UNTIL: one fateful day we took him to the Huerto de Carlos V, because no one was home to take care of him, and I ran into Alberto, a jolly dreaded festival friend we made at the Dragón, whose housemate really wanted a teensy kitten. So we handed him off right there and then. Thank god he didn't end up as the fifth animal in our furry family; it's already impossible to cook without eating hair in this house. We plan on visiting him someday soon, though.

What else? A few weeks ago one of the biggest music festivals in Spain, el Viña Rock, took place in Villarrobledo, about a four hour drive North of Granada. The actual festival was quite expensive, but since Spaniards are awesome, they tend to set up the "anti" festival, or in other words, a free electronic rave fest, right outside...why don't we do this, California? Anyway, Leon, Adam, Carlos, Jarir and I rented a car and headed over. It rained ALL weekend, but we had an amazing time.

Picture: rain, mud, my polar bear hat (muddy), face paint, bodybuzzing speakers, thunder, lightening, short-lived, weather-defying nudity, vodka, muddy boots, muddy tent, muddy car, cereal out of the box and rain-soggy bread, one precious avocado (no knife), beer, star stickers (a gift from a fairy with a glowing wand!), strange coincidences and shared acquaintances, the thizzle dance, goosebumps, shit-smeared Port-o-Potties and bared asses in the field of stubby bushes, huge tarps billowing over the sweaty gape-faced masses, that collective stomp with the drop, bonfires, lakes of mud, giant pupils under sweeping colored lights, three hour sleep sessions cramped up in the front seat of the car, losing my third phone, losing Adam (who we recovered, unlike the phone), and then Monday morning deliriously scrubbing the seats of the car, vacuuming up the ashes, the roaches, gathering soggy brown articles of clothing, eating oranges and melting into couches, into bed. Twelve hours of recovery sleep. And then, in Carlos' case, fever.

Since then I've been in quite a mellow mode (understandably, right?) Recently had some couch surfers by- German and Finnish- and took them tapa-ing, strolled around the Albaicín, showed them the Huerto where I stopped briefly and had my face painted and befriended a gorgeous Australian Shepard and a hairy-chested shirtless old English hippy man. I also now know how to say "laughing sausage" in Finnish.

This is the last month of class, and I've quite honestly been a horrible slacker. It's become quite clear that all  my scholarly motivation is based on an actual interest in learning, something that is not really an option in this University system. Anyway, the slacking is at least half due to the holidays and strikes that have knocked out probably like 50% of the classes I would have had these past months. (For example,  I'm not at school right now because of striking...) But classes end soon and then I have June to "study" and exams at the end of June, beginning of July.

In other news I'm shitting bricks of anticipation and glee because my babygirl Kimmykins is coming to see me in 9 short days! Balls Almighty, it's gonna be a frolic and a half! I don't really have plans for June or July, but I want to go somewhere at some point... I'm kind of just waiting for the adventures to manifest themselves- they always do! Vin has mentioned planning some sort of roadtrip, to Poland, for example, and I also really want to go to Germany (there's apparently an amazing festival near Hamburg in June!), and Ireland is also high on my list... This world is so big and beautiful, I just don't have time to tackle it all, but I suppose this is really only the beginning.

May is gorgeous and sunny and I love it. I've started doing yoga on the terrace, and reading on the terrace, and generally living on the terrace. Three hurrays for sunscreen!

California, I do miss you, despite all the shameless fun I've been having. I can't believe I'll be back "home" in three short month! I hope you guys are all prepared to burrito binge with me, to Boardwalk our faces off, to embark on facepainted frolics, get our fresh produce on at Twin Palms Ranch, spazz out at the dog beach with my flufferbutt and my tan man, get some three am nacho fries at Saturn, be critters in the Meekerite woods, and I guess take a peek at some American bars for the first time in my life (unless you count the Jury Room in Santa Cruz...I don't.) I also hope y'all don't expect me to come back fashionable and cultured-- quite the contrary; Granada has cultivated the wild child in me more than ever!

Anyway, I take my leave to try and get some useful things done right quick before heading to Mauna's for breakfast-for-dinner tonight, hitting up a screening of También la Lluvia at some bar and maybe checking out a concert/party at a nearby squat on Friday, and who the hell knows what else! ¡Hasta pronto, bitches!