The New Year

When I was 17, I wrote a short story. I showed it to my friend from school, she showed it to the teacher, he showed it to the principal, and the principal showed it to his siter, who worked in a magazine. A few days later, the principal called me to his office and told me that his sister wanted to publish my story. My friends threw a party for me that friday night.

Then I moved out of my parent's house. Bought my own apartment, really, really far away from them. I started a band with my two best friends. Everyone who had heard our music said we were like a female version of The Strokes. They said that we were like, God, Jesus and the Holy Spirit of rock n' roll. We threw a party every friday night, celebrating the past week, and the week that was coming.

I got married. He proposed at the top of the Eiffel Tower. We did a little ceremony at the beach, with our close friends. We wrote our own vows. And we celebrated all night long.

Then the twins were born. We bought a big house at the beach, with a music room, and a studio for me, where I could write and paint whenever I wanted to. And every friday, our friends came with their kids, and we all had dinner together, celebrating our long friendship.

And then you got sick, and you started writing me letters. I saved them all in a box, and I put it next to your guitar. And when you died, I did just what you asked me to: celebrate our love. So every day, before sunset, I sat down under our tree, and I sang all the songs we wrote together.

And when I knew I was gonna die, I asked our sons and daughters to bury me next to you, and to protect our tree. I asked them to not sell our beach house. And most importantly, I asked them to think that we were in a better place together, because I knew if they did, we would be.

And I realize now, that I celebrated a lot. Maybe some things weren't meant to be celebrated, but still, I did. But beyond that, I realize how happy I was, having you all celebrating with me. What if none of that would've ever happened? What if I would've never written that story? My life would be so different. Maybe even the opposite to what it was. But I know now, that whatever happened, if it was worth to celebrate, you were there with me celebrating.

And that's what matters.




wrote this last night, after I watched The Curious Case Of Benjamin Button. it's really amazing. or at least that's my point of view. weird how a movie/song/person can either change your mind or make you realize a lot of things.

Subway To Starbucks

There aren't so many people in the subway today. Guess everyone is out for vacations. Maybe they went to the beach. Maybe they are in another country. Or working. I like the subway. I like it better than the bus. And I'd like it more if there were no TV screens in it. They're useless, show too many ads and make too much noise. But still, I rather taking the subway than taking the bus. I don't sit down. I stand up in front of the window. Looking at the landscape. Listening to The Kooks. I thank God for them. I take some pictures. I find my way out of the station. Start walking to Starbucks. The security guy holds the door opened as he welcomes me. I bow, like the ladies used to bow, in the old times. He bows too, and smiles. I order a Vanilla Latte. Venti. Pay for it and sit down. I hear my name and start drinking it. As if I was drowning and this beverage was my air. As if I was a junkie and this was my heroine. As if I was a psycho or a vampire, and the caffeine was blood. Maybe I am all of that. Maybe I am a psycho vampire who is drowning. A tear runs down my cheek and I wipe it off with my sleeve. My eyeliner probably ran, but what the fuck do I care. I just drink. Coffee. Caffeine. Air. Heroine. Blood. Music. Love. Everything I need is that hot beverage in a recycled-plastic cup. And I thank God for The Kooks again. My cellphone rings. My dad wants to know if I went to the gym. My mom told me to take care of me. I want a cat. Back home. Subway agan. I sit down this time. I walked around for an hour or two and I feel tired. Or that is my excuse. The guy standing in front of me looks like if he had a coffee earlier and then took a walk around the park. I take a book out of my bag, but put it back in again. Fucking televisions. And for the third time in the day, I thank God for The Kooks. I get home. Say hello and walk upstairs. Take a cold shower. Wash my teeth. Knit. And I fall asleep really late. Thinking that I want somebody to sleep with. Another body keeping me warm in those cold nights. Somebody else breathing the air around my neck. Making me sweat and moan. Touching my skin softly as a wake-up call. Even hating him sometimes. But still, knowing that at night he'll come to my bed to sleep next to me. Cuddle up to me. Make spoons and hold hands. Just loving me. Me loving him. Just that.

But I keep thanking God for The Kooks...

Joan

One of the first things she told me about herself was that she liked Jimmy Eat World. More like loved Jimmy Eat World. She said they saved her life. But apparently that was another lie, because a week after she told me that she killed herself.

I don't really know so much about her. Never got to talk with her about something else that wasn't music. She played an old red Telecaster, given to her by her uncle. I think his name is Mike. His wife tought her to play piano. And she was a songwriter, so she had her own songs. When she died I listened to a few of them. God. She was a genius.

She was 27 when she died.

His uncle said that she wanted me to have her guitar.

Out Of Key

"I think I'm drunk enough to drive you home now..."

You had to start singing that song, and I'm not even in the humor to laugh at your out-of-key attempt to impress me with some Ben Gibbard lyrics, as I usually am. Tonight is just a weird night. November 1st is one of those days of the year when I'm not in the humor for anything. I tried to stay in bed but Bella wanted me to watch a movie with her. How can you say no to your 3 year old daughter when she stares at you with her pretty green eyes? It's impossible. So I got up. You weren't dressed, but you were making tea. You put some cinnamon in it. That was a sweet gesture. I love tea with some cinnamon in it. Bella said she wanted to watch Big Fish. It reminds me of my father, I said. You smiled at me, that's all you did. We ate lunch with that friend of yours from high school. The one you used to have a band with. I don't even remember why you broke up, but you're still good friends. While we were there my cellphone rang a few times. I didn't pick up. I didn't want to. I just turned it off. Back home, everything was a mess. But none of us really did anything about it. We just watched another movie. It's almost midnight now. Bella is asleep in your arms. I'm half asleep. You're half awake. Kiss me, you demand. Kiss me like if this was our first kiss, you say, while you stare at me with those big green eyes, just like Bella's eyes. Kiss me like if you want me to make love to you.

Kiss me. Like if the world is ending tomorrow and this is the last chance you'll ever have to kiss me.

“I could do this for the rest of my life” you said, next to me.

What could you do for the rest of your life?
“This” you said, kissing me deeply.