Probably the most fascinating thing somebody told me in the last two days here in Cairo, the thing with the most far reaching implications, spanning the private and the political, the family and the state, regression and aggression and an overall unease with the way men are, was Nora who said that Egyptian men are so spoiled by their mothers, so doted upon, so smothered with love that they go through life expecting this to never end. They have wives whom they expect to behave like their mothers, they think of themselves as strong men but are still the little sons they were thirty, fourty years ago. I don`t know if this explains everything, I don`t even know if it is true. But it totally makes sense, in the way that Freud without Freud always makes sense. Would the Middle East be a different place without these men? Probably. Is there a chance of that happening? Probably not. Do they care? No. Do they know? I guess not. But I trust Nora somehow on this as she is as smart and sharp as an Amazon Warrior has to be. This is what someone at the workshop called her. At least this is what I thought. It turned out that I did not hear correctly. But there still is some truth to this name, Nora said, and laughed.
Freud without Freud
Smile, Child: You're in Texas
I have up and repatriated. In other words, shifted from an expatriate to a repatriate. Or, from an ex-patriot to a re-patriot, even if I don’t feel very patriotic. I am in Texas, where the heat coming off the concrete and the smiles at furniture stores are stunning in the white glare of the afternoon, and can give you a headache if you stay in them too long.
I’ve witnessed a wide spectrum of American service sector smiles in the past week. There’s the losing-it smile, a brittle, bright smile that barely conceals a volcano’s worth of resentment. In Germany, where I lived for the past seven years, no waitress or postal worker would find it necessary to mask their anger with a smile. They have no problem regarding you and your order with raw rage. Here, the lady at Pottery Barn is smiling, but there is no question that she wants to throttle you and stuff your corpse under the sofa cushions. It’s a confusing, depressing combination of facial expressions, like a dog wearing a sweater or wintery weather in June.
Then there’s the Southern smile. This is usually paired with heavily teased hair, in the direction of Dolly Parton’s ’dos. I don’t mind this smile. I’ve known it since visits to Mississippi as a child. This smile has an element of “Bless her heart,” in it, a vaguely pitying (read: Besserwisser) tug at the corners of the mouth (as in “Bless her heart, the poor child doesn’t know how to work a tape measure”). There is a nihilistic serenity behind this smile, which is also a little frightening, but not if you don’t think too much about it: just measure your goddamn lamp, smile back, and get in the car as fast as you can.
Thirdly, there’s the “Hey, man!” smile, which I am beginning to think is distinctly Austinian. After ordering coffee and iced tea at a food truck, I received this smile and stream-of-consciousness speech from the kid manning the truck: “Hey, man, our coffee sucks, so I’d go somewhere else, but sure, I’d be glad to get you an iced tea. How’s your day going? Yeah? Nice. Mine is good, last night I hung out with some friends, no big deal, just a few of us, and we all watched the sun go down. It was beautiful. It was just a really chill night. It put me in a good mood and I’m still feeling happy about it. You know what I mean? Here you go. And just take this iced tea, my manager’s not here. Yeah man, it’s on the house. Sure, no problem. See you.”
The fourth smile, which I witnessed at a distance in Starbucks, is an entreating, I’m going-to-call-you-on-your-smile smile. This smile says, Okay, you’re going to smile all friendly? Let’s see if you mean it, bitch. The bearer of this smile was a Starbucks barista who was having a terrible day, as he informed his co-barista: his roommate sucked, she had given him hell for getting a dog without telling her. This story was repeated, with added flourishes and roommate insults, to every customer that approached the counter and asked how he was doing, after he asked how they were doing. And there was nothing for the customer to do but listen for ten minutes to the ins and outs of this man’s domestic drama, because they had smiled and asked, after all, how he was doing.
The Starbucks employee’s strategy breaks an unspoken rule of American friendliness: you’re not supposed to betray how you’re actually doing, at least not for a ten-minute monologue. The only customers with the power to deflect such oversharing, I would guess, are foreigners, who are not held to the same social expectations. I miss that Auslaender-get-out-of-jail- free card, which always came in handy in Berlin with telemarketers and people you didn’t want to talk to at a party.
Did I mention that I live on a property with miniature donkeys? I haven’t figured out what the donkey smile etiquette is yet. So far, we just regard each other warily, until I summon the courage to scratch their ears, and they summon the courage to let their ears be scratched. Which is its own kind of honesty, and its own kind of straight-faced relief.
The Strange Curve of History
We were walking along July 26th Street, Murat and me, carefully avoiding the sun, trying to stay in the shade, when it dawned upon me that yes, today was the second birthday of this very site, 60pages. We were on our way to the Townhouse Gallery which Murat had a little trouble finding. We had both arrived in Cairo the evening before, and Murat had been at the Townhouse for a few hours, preparing everything for the workshop, but somehow the impression of this city which so much reminded him of the Istanbul he remembered from the months he spent there as a child confused him a little bit and he was taken back all those years while forgetting on the way the path, the indeed tricky path to Townhouse. You turn right a little past the very good pastry bakery, it is a street full of little stores selling car parts, something, Murat said, the Armenians used to do in his childhood memory of Istanbul. Then you turn left, try not to fall over the plastic chairs that substitute for a cafe, turn left again, and there you are. Sarah was already there, it turns out it was also her birthday, the 25th. Happy birthday, Sarah! And thank you for putting together this fabulous group of people, writers, journalists, activists, all there to discuss the beauty and necessity of longform writing. It was hot, it was long, but what a great conversation we had. Among the many beautiful and memorable things being said was Wael`s statement, the big bearded Wael, the poet who said that journalism should be considered as a form of art and not as the 4th estate of a democracy that is bound to a nationstate that Wael believes is about to fall. Not today, not tomorrow, not in Egypt specifically, but more generally, a brief and bloody episode in human history which is going to end soon. Wael looked not mad as he said this, rather benign. So what could this journalism be that is more than another accessory of the nationstate? Maybe just the same, only better? Lina of Mada Masr made her argument for longer and better writing, something we here want too, and she mentioned Walter Benjamin as a storyteller, going back from the early 21st to the early 20th century while still going forward. A very inspiring exercise in time travel. Alia also of Mada Masr was also for time travel, she proposed to talk about migration at the turn of the 19th to the 20th century, among the migrants Italians coming to Egypt to build the Suez canal. History is strangely curved, it turns out. And that time is not linear is something we had always suspected, no? July 26th, by the way, was the day that Farouq, the son of Kind Fuad, was forced to abdicate in 1952. In 2013, General Sisi called on the population to demonstrate against the Muslim Brotherhood. This is what our new friends at Mada Masr wrote back in 2013. They are lovely people. As are most of the Egyptians we talked to today. What a very nice birthday. Happy 60pages.
The West and the Rest
This is an experiment. We are going to Cairo for a workshop on the art of longform writing, with the generous support of MiCT and at a time of new tensions between the government and the press. The workshop will be hosted by Townhouse Gallery, not far from Tahrir Square. Sep 1 till 3, morning, afternoon, dinner, tea and talk in between. We expect 20 to 25 people, writers, activists, journalists. We want to talk about what stories need to be told and commission five to eight of them and publish them here, at 60pages. We also want to expand our network of people trying to figure out the present.
We always believed that part of today’s problems, both politically and journalistically, was a limitation of scope and perspective. What Pankaj Mishra called “the West and the rest” turns into a true liability if it comes to describing this world and how it changes. The West looks at Egypt and sees – what: first an uprising, violence, a revolution; then change, the end of the old, the beginning of something; democracy? The election turns out differently. The Muslim Brotherhood is not what the West bargained for. So when Sisi took over, there was a very loud silence from the part of Western governments.
It has been a rollercoaster ride. We don’t pretend to understand it. This is why we come. To listen and learn. We plan more of these – what should we call them: workshops, pop-up editorial sessions, voyages? Let`s call them voyages, because the goal in a voyage is exactly that, learn, listen, change. This we want to share with you, here and now. So join us.
Fire Walk With Me
I’ve been having weird experiences with fire lately. Maybe I’ve provoked it, since I had a lovely bonfire gorgeously made by my friends for my 25th birthday. One of my professors was talking about Frankenstein in class and how the fire purifies, so it clicked, I needed a bonfire to start this year. And so I did, with a little help from my friends and sausages and marshmallows and booze. Then, about a month ago, I put some pizza in the oven and went back to my room upstairs. It was a warm day, odd being July so my windows were wide open. The air smelled like summer. Then the air started smelling like gas. I thought it might come from somewhere else but went to the kitchen just in case. The ground floor was full of gas everywhere. I opened the windows and the kitchen door and turned the gas off. I was so hungry or full of gas in my brain that I wasn’t thinking clearly, so first thing I think is how the pizza is still cold and how hungry I am, kinda like Homer Simpson kinda logic, I turned the oven back on. It was like something from a movie… That was what I actually first thought as it was happening… A huge ball of blue fire exploded towards me. All I did was jump back, scream really loudly although neither my dad nor his girlfriend heard me and started hitting myself on my sweater just in case and then touching my face to check it was OK… It’s almost funny now. I then smelled burnt hair and touched my entire head to check it wasn’t on fire. It wasn’t. Just some tips of my hair and nobody could ever notice, I kept touching one of my eyebrows anyway just to see if it was still in perfect shape. I was perplexed before my stupidity, my dad couldn’t believe I’ve done that and his girlfriend kept telling me my hair was fine and that it could have been a lot worse. Last but not least, my third encounter with fire, my second bad one this year, was exactly a week ago. Luckily, my dad was out of town for the weekend, but maybe also why it happened… I decided that since i was all alone it was a good idea to wax my legs. I’ve been waxing myself for a while now and everything had been nice and smooth so far. So I put the metallic container on the burner and waited as usual for the wax to melt. Apparently, since the last time, there was a bit of wax on the outside of the container, which started catching fire, it happened so fast I turned around and I had a tiny bonfire inside the container. I had no idea how to solve this. I couldn’t let it burn, I couldn’t grab it without a risk of burning everything down… I saw a bottle of water on the table… I thought this might be the only solution to my problem, so I opened it and off it went, the water straight to the container, turning the little bonfire into a really big one for a few seconds after which it was completely put out, exploding everywhere, not the fire, but the scalding honey wax… Brilliant. From 12 to 2AM on a Friday night cleaning the kitchen because there was fucking wax everyfuckingwhere. Ace. Lovely… Brilliant.
The name “Ólafur” is in my mind a lot lately. I looked it up. We’ve got Ólafur Eliasson, and the other day I watched The Secret Life of Walter Mitty and the actor who plays the helicopter pilot is called Ólafur Darri Ólafsson and I fucking loved that character. I always love that kind of characters…loving chubby drunks. It’s Iceland’s “Juan”, basically, so my mind is not being original at all. But I love the sounding. Derived from the Old Norse Óláfr, meaning “ancestor’s relic”. Which is a lovely meaning for a name. I’ve been thinking about those people, those who seem to carry sadness in their eyes. I believe I’m one of those, although I hate the idea of that and fight against it. Those who carry all their ancestors’ sadness and regrets from past lives, feeling that sadness not knowing exactly why, being this such a fun and beautiful life, not having real reasons for such a deep, rooted sadness. Astrologically they say Cancer or Cancer ascendants have almond shaped eyes, all of us, easy to recognize and that we have this look like we’ve seen it all. Cancer being a sign so related to family and the past, maybe we are the chosen ones to carry with our ancestors luggage and not really knowing it, maybe that’s where the sadness, the great intuition, that “seen it all” look comes from. Cancer’s second decan, between July 2nd and 12th are said to be natural witches, it kinda makes sense if you are going to carry on your shoulders all your ancestors’ database.
I’ve been playing this sort of masochistic games with myself lately. I get tired by 1AM but force myself to stay awake and read stupid stuff on the internet till 5AM. Sometimes till 3AM if I want to go to bed “early”, sometimes til 6AM if I’m feeling more “hardcore”. When I wake up, I stay in bed for a little while and try to tolerate the hunger, sometimes I’m not really hungry till 2 hours later, but most of the times I’d usually would have jumped out of bed to get breakfast ASAP, because it’s the best meal of the day and because I couldn’t bare the hunger. Now I can. I feel as if it is some sort of idiotic meditation and when I reach the point where I feel nausea, which happens when I’m really hungry (some days I would wake up feeling like this right away, so I run to the kitchen for coffee with milk to calm my raging stomach down, although nowadays I can take it better). Now I have been awake for 2 hours, had a lovely shower, I’m enjoying the sound of the rain, and just decided I should eat something, although I think I could take it for one more hour.
It’s a bit sad when someone you didn’t talk to at all on Facebook suddenly becomes the person who appears at the top of your chat list, even when offline. And you are happy when their chat window pops up with them saying “Hi” and you talk for an unusual amount of hours, and you think it’s weird but you let it happen cause you are enjoying it and then something happens, there’s a click, or many clicks and you talk less. And less. And less. Till someone stops answering at all. And then you slowly but steadily watch them go down on that list till they get lost into the other list, way down where you don’t see their name next to a green dot anymore because you’d have to scroll down every 2 seconds to do so and it’s both annoying and weird as a routine and you’re complete strangers once again.
Quiero una vida aburrida por un rato, en uno de esos pueblos costeros, en los que vivir implica ir a la playa y juntar bichos como berberechos por un rato. Nadar horizontal a la costa. No quiero estudiar más por un rato. No se cuanto, un año, un año estaría bien, aunque amo ir a a facutad y amo las materias y mi carrera… Lo hice cuando terminé la secundaria y me dediqué a boludear y salir mucho y me fui un mes a Uruguay a despedirme de mi abuela e ir a la playa todos los días aunque fuese abril, donde me gané el apodo de “La Sirenita”. Ahí la vida era así. Me levantaba, abría la ventana, olía los pinos en el aire, mi abuela no me dejaba bajar a desayunar si no me lavaba la cara y las manos con jabón antes, costumbre que se me pegó desde entonces y me preparaba el café con leche y siempre había algo casero rico para degustar. Siempre que iba a Uruguay me recibía con scons, el resto de la familia se quejaba en broma diciendo que solo los hacía cuando iba yo. Miraba un poco de tele mientras desayunaba. Había un canal que tenía documentales increíbles, me acuerdo de uno sobre Pixar. Después iba a la playa, no había nadie excepto un par de personas y los del parador. Después veía a mis primos y tios y me iba a nadar un rato a la mansa y ver el atardecer porque queda a 3 cuadras de su casa, o venían y andábamos en sus skates o jugábamos al basket, un poco como ahora pero estaba mi abu, que nos hacía pizzas y pan y entrábamos corriendo de jugar en la calle cuando nos anunciaba que estaba listo. Esta vez yo hice las pizzas y pan como me enseñó. Lo único un poco diferente fue la salsa, la masa era igual, según las críticas de mi familia. Mi abuela pensaba que estaba perdiendo el tiempo y yo seguía extendiendo la vuelta de retorno de mi pasaje porque la existencia ahí era perfecta. Una vez también la visité en invierno y fue igual de perfecto, el hogar a leña, el mar, me la pasé escribiendo cada noche. El último día mi tio y ella me acompañaron a la terminal de ómnibus de Maldonado y ella me dijo que nos volveríamos a ver, porque yo no podía dejar de abrazarla porque sabía que lo más probable sería que esa fuese la última vez. En agosto fui a New York porque mi tio dijo que si no estaba haciendo nada acá, me fuera para allá, así que estuve un mes en NY disfrutando de un verano increíble, lleno de museos, helados deliciosos, rusos potros en bici, Ikea, Gossip Girl, yates, Lee chi martinis y hombres caminando por Coney Island con una pitón en brazos estilo Britney Spears.
Girl Talk II: Cartesian Certainty and a "Feelings' Puppy Party"
- Heyy. Sorry I was at a meeting.
- Hey, it’s alright, but did you see him?
- Yeah I saw N. Was that what you meant?
- Yeah, of course!
- Yes! It was really nice. But, I don’t know, I’m not dying yet.
- Tell me everything.
- I mean, he is incredibly attentive, like a real gentleman.
- You don’t have to die. Tell me all the details.
- We met downtown, he arrived earlier, we went to a nice Peruvian, we had Ceviche and Huancaína potatoes, we talked a whole lot.
- Mmm, yummy.
- What did you talk about? I need an illusion, give me that illusion.
- And he paid because he said he was inviting the other day (so cute)
- I don’t know, we talked about art, performances, his next project.
- Then we walked to his studio, it was super hot, but I told him to go walking, he told me to go see his studio. And, I don’t know, it was really cute, he showed me his studio, he said I could go and work there or whatever anytime, there was another guy working there at the moment and then he had to go see some artists’ studios because he is curating an exhibition, which he invited me to participate
- Aw, cute.
- Super. He’s really cute.
- Nice, and you are going to see each other again?
- I guess so. He said it was nice seeing me yesterday or something like that but I don’t know, he didn’t make a move, I mean, it’s OK, it was a daytime date.
- Right. That’s nice.
- We had mate at his studio, talked about his work.
- It’s kind of unsettling when they don’t make a move, but at the same time it’s so nice, like no pressure at all.
- It’s super nice, yeah. At one moment he passed behind me and the only thing he did was to caress my back so tenderly, you know like when someone passes by?
- Oh, yes, I love that. This hot model did that at a party, it was super hot.
- Yeah, it’s super cute. And I like it because it’s like he somehow paves the way.
- Yeaaah, he slowly approaches the gazelle.
- Yeah. I’m kinda scared I might not like him, though. He’s really cute but I don’t know. He’s really nice.
- Well, don’t over-think it. Don’t pressure yourself just because he’s the sweetest guy in the galaxy and don’t start either with that “he’s too sweet” thing so you don’t like him anymore.
- Yeah, you’re right.
- The other day I told a French girl who lived here for a while, friend of a French friend who now lives in Berlin, that I’ve always had a crush on her. She now lives in Congo.
- Hahaha who is she?
- And she didn’t answer so it was like “OK, got it, at least I told her”. J
- Aww <3
- Yeah, super cute. Afterwards I thought she was maybe just saying it because she lives really far away now and to be polite, but there was a chemistry, I felt it. We like her.
- Yeah. I don’t know, I think that we really know theses things, like super intuitive, it’s just that we live in this kind of culture…
- Yeah, totally.
- Where we repress that knowledge that comes with us. Like “BUT HE DIDN’T SAY ANYTHING”.
- Totally, we create all these obstacles till it’s nothing.
- Or you need this Cartesian certainty like “I NEED HIM TO TELL ME HE WANTS TO BE ALL OVER ME AND MARRY ME”. Yeah, totally, haha till it dilutes…
- Haha, exactly. So sad.
- I was sad the other day cause I met this friend, L, she told me G was talking about X dating that girl and I don’t know, I got sad.
- I don’t know, but trying to move on.
- Oh, but why did she tell you that? Nonsense.
- I don’t know. I kinda asked her or something or maybe I wanted to know maybe.
- I know, but, you edit.
- Because she said that she saw him alone at this party I almost attended.
- I don’t know, I didn’t tell you about that picture because I thought it was nonsense and that you would be over-thinking about it afterwards.
- Yeah, of course, thanks about that.
- Which party? Haha no worries, but, I mean, friends do that, they don’t need to tell everything… That some guy was talking about that… WTF…
- Yeah. She was telling me that another guy in the group was with her so now they split because the guy got mad and I got sad because it was like “Oh, she is super desired by al the guys?”
- Should I answer J? Now I got that tingling like floating on a cloud after reading that, that tingling that makes you want to roll on the floor like a kitten.
- I don’t know, can you answer her? Maybe it’s fun to go on with the exchange.
- HAHAHA you’re so funny… she was with guys… guys fuck everything, she is not super desired by guys, they desire anything. Yeah, I can answer, but I’m really bad at following this kind of things and I don’t want to be annoying and what can I tell her? “Je t’aime”?
- Hahaha AW
- Haha I of course don’t love her because I don’t know her that much, but in that primitive sense, I don’t know, I wouldn’t know what to say. Maybe if I keep on writing her it ends up being bad and this way it’s magical.
- Yeah, to keep this really nice moment. And that’s it.
- Yeah, it’s the best, maybe something short like “I hope we see each other again someday”, or something of the sort, silly. Anyway, I’m over-thinking, but awwwwww it’s like a feelings’ puppy party.
- It’s so nice it makes you feel that way.
- And, I don’t know, this German girl, she’s just a German, I haven’t heard about her till you mentioned her, not like I know about everyone because I usually don’t care, but she was with a guy, then she dated another one, it’s something that happens to everybody, it’s not like she is a Greek goddess and you are a cockroach. Yeah, it is super nice that it makes me feel that way, and she has this name that sounds so lovely with a French accent. I wanna say it all day long.
- Right. You’re right.
- Like shivers down my spine, the good ones.
- AAAAAAWWWWWW. My friend said the German is not ugly, is she prettier than me? I’ve felt shivers down my spine when he touched my back today, I think that’s a good sign.
- Hahaha you are such an idiot, like retarded, she’s not prettier, she is pretty, yeah. Aw, yes, that feeling when someone caresses your back, BUT, if you don’t like the person, the feeling is more upsetting than a good one.
- Right. You think?
- Yeah, you like him at least a bit. I’m not saying you’re in love.
- Yes, but wait, you say I’m prettier than that girl? She is pretty but she ain’t no goddess.
- No, you’re not prettier. Different kinds of beauty.
- :S Realy? I thought I was prettier. Period.
- I told you, they can fall in love with the ugliest girl in the world, that’s even worse than if he goes out with Kate Moss, because there’s substance. I haven’t seen her in person but I don’t think she’s ugly.
- Love has nothing to do with external beauty and fucking ain’t over even dating ain’t love.
- But they are a couple. I feel like he really wanted to be in a relationship, he wanted a woman to save his life.
- Yeah, he really wanted that. i think he’s kinda boring though.
- If I were the German girl I’d return and look for a German intellectual like the one I saw at ArteBA, who was oldie but really handsome.
- Yeah, like, boring meaning he is really darky and insecure… So boring.
- Him? Oh yeah. He’s super insecure, I don’t know what she’s doing with him.
- She’s the one with the pants in the relationship. But let’s talk about the new guy.
- Yes. He’s super cute, like a more real person.
- We like him. Our names form an anagram.
- Aw <3
- I mean the last one seemed like a bogus person which is the antithesis of what I am, in fact, I think he liked me because I was somewhat of an upgrader of his own status.
- Right… I don’t think he liked you just because of that.
- I don’t know. You are really cute when it comes to women, when you say things like we are different kinds of beauty.
- Hahaha but I really think that, and even if you are the prettiest of them all, it doesn’t mean a thing, nobody falls in love because of that, maybe you fuck more and more easily, but not even that.
- Right. We are beautiful and unlucky.
- No, we are not unlucky, we are just stupid.
- We’ll learn with time and we’ll relax.
- Maybe love the one who is available
- I want one of those silly movie loves in which there are tons of cute moments and there’s this lover’s parallel universe. I think I’ve never had inside jokes with a guy.
- Well, it will happen.
- Yeah, I’m not worried, not anymore. And if it’s with a girl I hope she’s got long hair so we can braid each other’s hair.
- Awww that’s so cute. That’s good. Dude, I did something really stupid.
- What did you do?
- I set up a date with some guy from uni that I used to fuck ages ago who teased me all the time cause he wanted to fuck, like a male prostitute.
- Oh no, not that uni. Those guys are awful. Throwing up all their knowledge on you in a super cocky way.
- I don’t know. I freaked out and thought that if I have good sex…
- You won’t enjoy it. You think this way you’ll be over it and not like it used to be, but you’ll do it and you’ll get depressed.
- How? You say I was always on the upper hand?
- It’s better to cancel and leave him horny.
- Someone told me I always had the upper-hand cause I left.
- No, I’m saying that you want to show like you do. But that was with your ex, I mean with this one.
- No, I don’t give a shit about this guy, I want to fuck, he’s a good fuck.
- Hm, he is from that uni.
- So I don’t think about how it was to fuck my ex. This one’s darker.
- My point exactly. You’ll fuck this one and you’ll think of your ex and the situation will depress you even if he’s a good fuck.
- Yeah? Right. You think? From experience?
- It’s just that, look, if I fuck the new one, you know what that’ll be like? It’s going to be like MARRIAGE.
- I know but you aren’t going to fuck him right away.
- But maybe I like it, I don’t know. NO, that will take a while.
- Exactly. I don’t know, do what you think it’s better, but I don’t think it’s a good idea, it’s better not to fuck, look what I’m saying… I was thinking the other day, during my 24th year of life I’ve only fucked 3 times. I’ve practically wasted a whole year, but it’s OK, I needed that. I surfed, that sometimes feels better than fucking.
- Really? I don’t know/ But I fuck really little usually. I’m starting to feel that not being in a relationship sucks. ,Like most fucks are miserable. My friend G is seeing this guy T, DON’T SAY ANYTHING, she wants to kill herself, he doesn’t turn her on and, even worse, he has this super sensitive thing in his dick so it goes down all the time. Like, is fucking that hard? Like a good fuck, you know.
- Noooo, poor thing! Both of them. That sucks. I don’t know, it’s not difficult, it’s a phase.
- I read this every once in a while http://www.vice.com/en_uk/read/being-a-single-girl. It works, it reminds you it’s fun to be single and to fucking carpe diem, read it. Who is G?
- Let’s see… She doesn’t have a FB account, she is some friends’ friend.
- No idea. It’s nice not to have a FB account, I’ll get to that point some day and I won’t meet any crushes through fb anymore, they’ll have to write me an email or something of the sort.
- Haha right
- Or send me a carrier pigeon or write me on LinkedIn and since I never really check that I won’t over-think.
- I don’t know, I’ve started reading it, I love being single, I don’t want a relationship or I don’t know what I want but I don’t want to think about anybody.
- Right, read it all, it’s worth it, it’s funny. Have you realized that you ruined the only two good looking guys in the scene for me this week, right?
- There’s only one left but he’s got this weird vibe.
- That guy’s an asshole
- Yeah, he’s cute but he’s a douche. Although this T guy looks like he’s got some issues.
- And I can’t cause this friend of mine hooked up with him, I’m starting to feel it’s more practical not to be friends with her, hahah, like she hooked up with all of the guys, at least once.
- Right, but that happens all the time, if she’s not an ex or was in love with the guy, it doesn’t count.
- I mean it, dude, she’s super weird though, I once told him Z flirted with me and she asked me who he was so she could go and hook up with him, I don’t know if she’s a hippie or what… We’ve talked about this anyway. Yeah, there’s no other way but to think that way.
- It’s the way it is, it’s not like if someone close to you fucked someone you can’t, it’s only that way if there was mutual love or on her side.
- Right, it’s weird though, like really hippie. Anyway…
- HAHAHA “really hippie”. I’d have to go to Salta with my cousin during the summer, there’s not internet there, it’d be a nice rehab.
- Oh yes!
- To rehab? Hahaha or Salta?
- They are both the same haha.
- When are you going?
- This summer
- Oh I’d love to but I’d be in NY so I can use the studio
- Right, it’s fine
- Like, I should be using it right now but oh well…
- Right, but, you came here to visit. You are always living in winter, you’re doing it wrong.
- Hahaha yeah, it’s a disaster. This is not much of a winter, though.
- No, I know, it’s very springtime for Hitler.
- I clearly love that phrase
- I’ve got a final exam tomorrow but I don’t feel like studying.
- Oh, have a coffee and start studying.
- You say I’ll be able to do it over a day? I’ve still got the course’s concepts, I don’t know.
- Yeah, try.
- Yeah, I hate studying. I don’t want to anymore, or at least for a while.
- I know, but it’s the last effort.
- Yeah. I need a new brain. Well, I failed an annual course, which I shouldn’t have because it means I can’t take Audiovisual Design 2 next year, which means I should get the fuck off of here next year.
- Wait, how do you know? You just got the news?
- Yeah, I checked online, I don’t know, I’m not being able to study. I just want to smoke weed all day, you know?
Indian Summer on my Mechanic Black Unicorn
I wish everybody would move to Berlin so I’d have all Buenos Aires for myself, like in January, best month of the year in the Southern Hemisphere, when everybody leaves town and it’s warm and lovely, like today, Tuesday night in late July, riding my bike around the horse racetrack at 10PM, perfect time because most of the people go running between 6 and 9PM. There was a hot girl and a hot guy and some other people, but I barely saw them because I didn’t fancy them. I wonder if people realize how shitty their running technique really is… They didn’t learn that at school? They put their arms in a way that makes them look like a T-Rex instead of using them to run better and faster or they drag their feet making that annoying sound. The temperature was wonderful today. 27 degrees, nice warm breeze, wearing nothing but a tank top and shorts and pigtails, feeling all the warm air on my skin and through my hair, smelling the trees, looking at the moon. I like to close my eyes while walking or riding my bike on an empty street. Just for a few seconds, right before I’m about to hit something, I open my eyes. I wish I could do it for a longer time, I can if I practice. “Berlin is like Barcelona in 2003” my friend said via chat from there. “But is it nice to see all the Argies?” I asked. “I swear it is, you don’t see them in your daily life, but it’s fun to meet them at the club, even D is here djing!”. “Yeah, I guess it’s nice if you are 15.000 Kms away from home to see some familiar faces and hear some familiar words”. On the last part of my way back home on my bike, a girl started cycling faster so she could beat me to the bike path. I felt kind of annoyed because I wanted to enjoy those last 15 blocks as I’ve been doing the rest of the 5Kms, so I started cycing faster as well, standing on my bike, she did the same, she got there first. I did not enjoy going behind her at all, but didn’t want her behind me either, I wanted to take my time or go as fast as I could if I wanted to. So I turned around, went back a few blocks and then started getting back home again. She was nowhere to be seen and I enjoyed the view of the trees, the path before me, the moon and the sweet warm breeze on my skin and through my pigtails once more on my mechanic black unicorn.
6.27PM This is my favourite light of the day. Inside it’s almost dark, but outside it’s still daytime. Everything is dyed with this grayish blue tone. I resist the first temptation and/or reflex to turn on the light, I look around the room instead, trying to adjust my eyes to this new kind of light, trying to see the whole scene as detailed as I can. Trying to absorb with my eyes as much information as I can, as much of this incredible penumbra and colours before the street light subtly invades my room caressing its darkness as natural light dims down.