Wednesday, July 12, 2006

Switching Grommets On Curtains

if life gives you lemons ...

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He told me that Small laughed at her for that metal in her voice. She never made fun of the chubby filling, or the cuatrojos, nor the mulatto son of a Marine who once docked at the port and did not return, or the man who laughed like a pig or the girl with the protruding ears and headband pink. Pero sí se carcajeaba de su propia particularidad. Nunca se opuso a que la llamaran C3PO, aunque a ella quien le gustaba realmente era Hal 9000 y siempre que tenía ocasión lo imitaba y se dejaba caer en el suelo como si se desinflara y entornaba los ojos, a punto de un desmayo, cantando cada vez más lento, con gran comicidad, para deleite de todos los presentes que agradecían el numerito con fuertes aplausos: Daisy, Daisy...
Ahora trabaja de actriz de doblaje en el cine. Le ha puesto voz a robots femeninos, androides con tetas tipo Madonna, Afrodita A pareja de Mazinger Z, replicantes, etc. Tiene un novio guapísimo, me cuenta entusiasmada. "It's an exact replica of Roy Batty, the leader of the Nexus 6, Blade Runner, created by man but smarter and stronger . Fucks like no other."

And when a call interrupts us promises to be a latazo simply replies, "you have dialed the phone is off or unreachable. Please try again later."

Monday, July 3, 2006

Ooh And Aah Stuffed Animals

is one year for each clock beginning sandstorm

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Leaning on his chest, the woman reads her story is a tree that holds among its branches a tiny shelter-hut with a window into the golden sea at sunset. The space contains a chest that conceals a secret map without treasure, but with a maze that is lost by a woman reading aloud and flies over the gray sky of a July 3 Santiago. There, on a nameless street, accidentally lands on a man with a hat and scarf burgundy. The wife comes home with his enthusiasm for the sun to give her laughter and while walking through the streets in the dark with the sound of his footsteps on the pavement, he whispered in my ear that can be written a few letters. (She hears him hanging from his sleeve and give thought to those words for many tomorrows. Then he bites the mouth and neck and kisses him slowly, slowly the lips in a corner booth of the hill). They discover that eyes mirror it reflects the desire to live with her and open their wings to descend together to a beach where they perch on the rocks, sheltered from the wind and the anesthetics that conquered time and desire. There, away from predators, he recovers his composure and still counting: the story of a man tree that housed a woman shelter with his strong arm and leg on his chest hides a treasure chest with no maps, no mazes, and shattered dreams, but with tens returning kisses the only window to the sea of \u200b\u200bgolden eyes. And verses and words. Cone woman rocks the cello voice. Both are clothed with the whispers of the waves tireless and certain future.

It's time to toast with a glass of Merlot, no noise, for one year vanished. Nothing.