Quote

"My mind was filled with that great song 'Lover Man' as Billie Holiday sings it; I had my own concert in the bushes. 'Someday we'll meet, and you'll dry all my tears, and whisper sweet, little things in my ear, hugging and a-kissing, oh what we've been missing. Lover Man, oh where can you be...' It's not the words so much as the great harmonic tune and the way Billie sings it, like a woman stroking her man's hair in soft lamplight. The winds howled. I got cold. "
- Jack Kerouac, On the Road

Quoting the Ramones...

When I'm goin' home
Whiskey bottles
Movie on T.V.
Memories make me cry
And I'm alone
Just me

Just me.

Talking on a chilly autumn night.

SN: Yeah, that's what I was saying before... I'm not sure I've done everything I needed to do in this visit. I've seen some people enough, like -----; okay, she's my friend pero I don't plan on being so close to her. And ----, I slept over at her house and we were able to talk so I had enough time to be with her.

(It was 9:30, dark already, chilly, and everyone had left. We had stopped by Pans for a second to get a drink, and were sitting down on a bench, finally having the one-on-one time we had planned for.)

SN: But then, Felii!, you and ------, I don't feel I had enough time with you guys! Well, with ------ I think it was just right. We were able to talk and enjoy and-

FA: Yeah, and maybe too much time would have been bad for you both.

SN: No, I don't think so... Yeah, but the time was perfect, I think. Yes, it was perfect. But with you we never had that Feli and Shai time we were looking forward to! I just feel that we could have done so much more.

FA: But it's been like this since the beginning, we've never had enough time to enjoy our friendship. I dunno, since we met it's been the same.

SN: Yeah... I'll visit again, though, Feli. And you have to promise me that you'll come to Israel!

FA: Of course I shall, Shai.

(We momentarily debated plane ticket prices.)

FA: Yeah, we've got all our lives to be friends.





Dedicated to a great friend who just visited and who gave me a wonderful conversation, as short as it may have been.

Here Comes the Sun.

Estoy muerto; igualmente saldre a cenar hoy, a un restaurante indonesio en Plaça Catalunya. A ver a una amiga que visita, y que se ira el domingo.

Good food, good friends, I'll have a good time.

Even so, I have a lot on my mind, as always... But I'm much better, really.

No se, physical evidence may deny it but I think I'm better.

As always, I feel like an idiot; but now I'm more hopeful?

Or maybe not. I'm still really sad...

Necesito una larga caminata a solas.

Quoting the Beatles...

And when the broken-hearted people living in the world agree,
There will be an answer;
Let it be.

Back.

I cant see the point in another day
When nobody listens to a word I say.
You can call it lack of confidence
But to carry on living doesnt make no sense...
-Sting and the Police, Can't Stand Losing You


Back from the IMUN trip to Lisbon, Portugal. Had loads of fun, and learned quite a lot. Can't wait for another one.

I'm feeling slightly heartbroken and slightly optimistic... Some readers might know why.

Un Relato

"Me da un euro?"
No, I don't have, really. I check my pockets, maybe I do. I'm a sucker for people who ask for coins. Then I think Gee maybe it wasn't such an innocent proposal as it seemed. Like this one guy, a black man with a face that screamed weed, who asked for spare change for food and I said he could have the product I had just ordered from the food machine. "No worry, no worry, have a nice week, nice week, yes."
The Man Who Asked Me for a Euro goes to the next person on the streetcar, a woman on the foldable bench horizontally opposite to me. I too am on a foldable bench.
"Me da un euro?"
"No."
"Bueno, gracias."
He walks another half a meter, disappearing from my peripheral vision into another wagon. I hear his voice, asking for the time, and another voice stating the fact that it's 7:30.
He walks across my wagon again.
And again.
The Man Who Asked Me for a Euro again asks someone else For the Time.
I think this is a good moment to describe The Man: he was of standard height, weight-wise on the chubby side. Black hair, pale skin and a sad face - an innocent face, for that matter. One that didn't realise people stared.
The streetcar stops, some step out, new people step in, and The Man Who Asked Me for a Euro proceeds to ask other people the same two questions he had been repeating all afternoon. He once again disappears from my sight. (Also, I'm reading a recollection of some of Truman Capote's descriptions of- celebrities?- no, intellectuals, so my full attention isn't focused on The Man.)
(I finish the description of Tennessee Williams. Love that guy.)
I look up, and then recall the existence of The Man. He is two meters away, asking a woman facing my way for the time.
"Perdon, que hora es?"
"Ia se lo dije hase sinco minutos."
A rude Columbian accent. True though, was that The Man had asked for the time near 15 times already in a span of 15 minutes, and obtained quite a few responses. The Man Who Asked Me for a Euro comes my way.
"Perdon, que hora es?"
I don't know. Really, I honestly don't know. I'm so useless. I flash a semi-friendly semi-I'm-sorry-I'm-of-no-use-whatsoever smile. I glance at my book for a millisecond, and smile again.
"Perdone, Señor, me da un beso?"
No, haha, but thank you. I give another smile, this time shy but still honest. The tram stops once more, Zona Universitaria. The Man Who Asked Me for a Euro, the Time and a Kiss steps out. He says goodbye, one foot in and one foot out of the streetcar, by asking the crisp air outside for the time.