Categories
Blog

We party too in Minas

Estoy haciendo el quehacer sesuda y esmeradamente porque hoy por la noche Minas Morgul se viste de gala. El paso de la Araña se engalana de antorchas, las dos escaleras se iluminan con cientos de velas, hoy el aliento de la armada orca se une para entonar himnos de martini y rotolatas.

Ayer fuí a Jocotepec y no comí nieve. Ayer terminé otro cuadro: una tina con pies para una mujer sin ni uno.

Una amiga tuvo una semana de santo recogimiento, yo tuve que envolvió una revelación que me dejó sin copas en mi casa y las uñas más mordidas de lo habitual. Ni idea que haré.

Me voy a limpiar el baño.

Encontré en modo “chuffle” de mi Ipod esta canción de Alanis Morrissette, esta mujer no es mi hit, pero la letra de su canción: “Not the doctor” resume algunas de las cosas que le diría a cualquier hombre que desee caminar conmigo:

I don’t want to be the filler if the void is solely yours
I don’t want to be your glass of single malt whiskey
Hidden in the bottom drawer
I don’t want to be a bandage if the wound is not mine
Lend me some fresh air
I don’t want to be adored for what I merely represent to you
I don’t want to be your babysitter
You’re a very big boy now
I don’t want to be your mother
I didn’t carry you in my womb for nine months
Show me the back door

Visiting hours are 9 to 5 and if I show up at 10 past 6
Well I already know that you’d find some way to sneak me in and oh
Mind the empty bottle with the holes along the bottom
You see it’s too much to ask for and I am not the doctor

I don’t want to be the sweeper of the eggshells that you walk upon
I don’t want to be your other half I believe that 1 and 1 make 2
I don’t want to be your food or the light from the fridge
on your face at midnight
Hey what are you hungry for
I don’t want to be the glue that holds your pieces together
I don’t want to be your idol
See this pedestal is high and I’m afraid of heights
I don’t want to be lived through
A vicarious occasion
Please open the window


I don’t want to live on someday when my motto is last week
I don’t want to be responsible for your fractured heart
and its wounded beat
I don’t want to be a substitute for the smoke you’ve been inhaling
Well, What do you thank me,
What do you thank me for?!

D.