Bienvenido a la Cabeza de R.E.

SITE UNDER CONSTRUCTION

2008-06-20T20:38:00.003-04:00

YOU CAN CHECK OUT THE OLDER POSTS ON THE RIGHT

story of a painting

2007-09-01T08:43:00.000-04:00

CHAPTER 1

It was the beginning of the summer of 2003 when I said to myself: whatta fuck do I do with this now??

6 months before, I found myself on an urgent search for a roommate; the previous one decided to jump out the window without a two week notice, very irresponsible thing to do... Some kid from Mexico contacted me. He was about to enter my school, didn't ask too many questions and convinced me with a deep, emotional "help a Mexican brother", which brought tears to my eyes and made me realize how much help a legal immigrant from Mexico able to afford private school needs... "You had me at hola" -I said- "but you'll still have to be in charge of the kitchen".

I was busy with some businesses, so my 'key pal' and friend kid Ad let him and his dad in. Soon after, she called me: "He looks nice, a little stupid but nice.. and his dad is definitely gay. He wears dirty wash ripped bootcut jeans and wet look gel on his eyebrows. He basically looks like a 53 yr old dude desperately trying to look 12... he is kinda hot though.."

I never met the dad, but I can tell you the kid didn't look very Mexican. He was 6 feet tall and whiter than a German baby's ass. Right away I knew our kitchen deal was off, we all know blonds can't cook, much less clean dishes, so I told him to stay the fuck out of the kitchen. He did however fill the fridge with huge jars of inorganic marmalade. Every flavor from strawberry to kiwi to fruits I didn't even know existed. The kid would pour the fake fruity fruit directly into his mouth while at the same time watching cartoons and not cutting his nails. Not only that, but he never used a trash bag either. His technique was the following
1. Throw the trash in a nude trashcan and wait till its overfull and practically screaming for help
2. open a trash bag, cover the top of the trashcan and turn it upside down. The trash is supposed to fall directly into the trash bag.
3. Half of your marmalade jars will fall through the sides and cause a fucking mess in your living room.
4. The trash can will be empty and looking like if it just came from Iraq.
5. Your roommate will kick your ass (he was trained in the Israeli army).

I told him "dude... do that shit in your room, not in my kitchen.. and while you're at it, take that collection of endangered species you have in the living room closet and put it somewhere else... this is Massachusetts man, not Texas.. I don't want my fake leather coat painted red.."

A couple of weeks had passed. I was talking to a friend in school. He told me:
-so how is Tropezon?
-who the fuck is that?
-your roommate
-Ernestino??
-yeah, we call him Tropezon
-I don't get it
-you know, his dad is Raymundo Jodido, the singer.
-What????? Raymundo Jodido the man with the boots??..
-you didn't know?
-hahaha I didn't know that! that is fucking hilarious dude
-(both sing together) El Tropezooon, El Tropezooon!
-how can you not know?
-I don't know, I didn't ask.. uh! but that explains the jeans, gelled up eyebrows and overall super gayness kid Ad was talking about
-(inhale) wantthelasthit? (exhale)
-sure.. (inhale).... fuckmanletsgobackits220.... (exhale... still exhaling.. still exhaling.. that's it..)

CHAPTER 2

Raymundo Jodido is an extremely outdated Mexican singer who was once incredibly popular among maids and street cleaners. His most successful songs include "La Caderona", "El Tropezon" and "El Chapuzon del Pajarraco". Raymundo Jodido's lyrics are caracterized by an extremely ridiculous amount of mega redundant repetition that goes over and over and over and over saying the same thing over and over and over and over again with a slight change of nouns.
For example, "La Caderona":

I don't care what my parents think
I don't care what my neighbors think
I don't care what my friends think
I don't care what the pope thinks
I don't care what anybody thinks
I am going to marry La Caderona
La Caderona
La Caderona
La Caderona (repeat 15 times)
uh, uh , uh

Or the famous "El Tropezon":

You dance it up
You dance it down
You dance it right
You dance it left
You dance it all day
You dance it all night
You dance it like this
You dance it like that
El Tropezon, El tropezon, El tropezon (repeat 203 times)
uh, uh , uh

"Now what about El Chapuzon del Pajarraco?" -you may be asking yourself. Well you literally take El Tropezon word by word except that instead of saying "el tropezon" you say "el pajarraco". Does it at least have a different melody, harmony, rhythm or something?? ...umm... no.. it doesn't...

For the next 4 months I had to listen to this song Tropezon was working on. It was about a girl he was in love with, her name was Ernestina. "I am Ernestino, she is Ernestina, it just makes perfect sense" -he would tell me every day with half the jar on his face. He even came to me and asked for help:

-I have the chorus, it goes: Ernestina, Ernestina, Ernestina, Ernestina, uh, uh uh
But I am a little stuck on the verse. I am just missing one word I can't seem to find.
-Show me
-I could live without the sun
I could live without the moon
I could live without the ?????
but not without you Ernestina..
-um... OK..
-any ideas?
-..ummm... sky?
-sky... sky.. I could live without the sky.. man! that is fucking brilliant. Sky! thank you so much you... you have talent you..
-..um...OK

One day Tropezon got back at 5:00 am carrying this huge ass painting.

-Whatta fuck?
-I stole this painting man!!!! I am crazy!!!
-what?!!
-I was at a party, and this painting was hanging in the living room.. I wanted to impress Ernestina.. I think it worked!
-Are you stupid or something?
- I am fucking drunk man! I am fucking crazy! Ernestina loves it!!
-You see that dude in the couch? he is homeless and on crack.. he still didn't steal no fucking painting, he didn't go to college and even he thinks you are stupid. Now, that painting was probably painted by an amateur painter who worked some 5 years on it. At some level he might feel proud that someone liked his stupid painting so much that he had to steal it. This might be his biggest accomplishment as an artist ever.. I'll give you that. But, at the end of the day, he is still getting home to a paintingless apt.. he has nothing to impress the chicks with anymore. You basically ruined his life.
-I don't care man!!! I rule! Ernestino rules!!!

A couple of days afterwards Tropezon went back home. He had failed all the classes and Raymundo Jodido saw in him an opportunity to get back in business. He was incorporated on his dad tour: Like father like son, which was an undeniable failure.

As for the painting, he left it in his room. It is shit, but actually kinda cool.. I brought it with me to NY. After all, I still don't know who the fuck is the painter.. I just hope that one day he somehow becomes famous.. then I'll be in possession of 'the lost painting'.. Can amateurs become famous?? Well, there you have Raymundo Jodido, the man with the boots. Who is that? no other than the father of Ernestino Tropezon, famous Mexican singer, author of hits like "Ernestina No Me Quiere", "Mermelada" and "Me voy al Infierno", translated in English as "I Stole a Fucking Painting"....

Advice for a Young Student

2007-08-28T08:20:00.000-04:00

Dear Student: I am afraid to inform you that there is no such thing as "just in case there is something out there" cause there is nothing out there for sure. And I mean NOTHING and I mean 100% sure..

You reminded me of a friend from high school called.... Pepito.
Pepito didn't care too much for school. He would rarely look at the teacher, listen to her or even come to class. He more often than not answered Spanish tests with errant math equations or physics with unreadable senseless political views. Twice I witnessed Pepito write his name on the test and give it back before even going through the questions or flipping a page. 100% clean unpretentious blank. He just plain didn't give a fuck.

But, (and this is a big But) whenever Miss Teacher went through the class list giving our grades out loud (strange custom) Pepito held a Virgin Mary on his hands and kissed her devotedly, asked for forgiveness and above all a passing grade. Needless to say.. Pepito.. well.. Pepito failed... And each time he did he would stop talking to the Virgin Mary for as long as three days! Not even before bedtime!! can you imagine going to sleep without talking to the Virgin Mary?? Jesus! this actually showed how much Pepito actually cared about his grades.

By no means am I comparing you or anyone with Pepito, not only an ugly boy (even with his fair chunk of men boobs attributed mostly to his daily continental taco breakfast devoured at class time across the street where a hand made sign reads 'Tacos Panchita' and Panchita has her own fresh made tortillas custom ready before he even gets there) but also darn dumb.

Unlike Pepito, you will pass. So.. study as much as you want an A, as little as you want to cut it, or as none as you care.. worse comes worse you can always blame it on the ones who didn't lit up a candle.. or the Virgin Mary..

Chronic Drunken Billy's Conspiracy Theory #b

2007-08-26T01:07:00.000-04:00

All these things people are saying, and I'm saying what? It doesn't make any sense! you know what I'm saying? he is saying this and saying that, and I'm saying: don't tell me to say that.. I say what I need to say, but whatever I'm saying, I say, It's got to be what it is, you know?.. And part of me is saying, say this or say that.. But if I say this or I say that, I can only say it once, whatever it is I'm saying, you know what I'm saying?.. cause I'm like gee man! I don't even know what I'm saying and you are telling me to say this and say that and it doesn't make any sense.. No matter how many times you say it or I say it or he or she says it, It doesn't make any sense ya know what I'm saying>? that's what I say.. I say gee. say that or say this and all this people and all.. saying what you are saying makes me say something I'm not saying..Just say what'cha gotta say, say it like this or say it like that, it just need to be said if it needs to be said, what'cha gonna say, what can I say? I only say man! don't come and say all you're saying and ask me to not say anything.. what are you saying to me? That's all I'm saying.. It just doesn't make any sense.. And that's all I have to say about that...

Three worlds down south and back

2007-03-25T14:30:00.000-04:00

First stop from the airport was Mariscos El Muelle. Salsa, Limes, Shrimps, Salsa, Squid, Oysters, Salsa everything everything. I ate so much, Jewish mother told skinny son "that's enough". Such amount of chile poisoning my stomach does it like no other drug.
Two days later I was suffering the consequences and decorating the toilet with the colors of the Mexican flag. Goddamn Moctezuma took his revenge ON ME?? Again?

If you ever pass through the immigration 'little rooms' at international US airports you'll see a bunch of sombreros waiting to be called to answer questions to a Caucasian's broken Spanish.
And, if you ever pass through the restrooms of any Hotel in Mexico City you will hear and smell but hopefully not see the pain of Moctezuma's revenge inflicted on those who crossed the border southbound. Each country has its own laws of immigration. But as a Mexican living in the states I am starting to suffer from both. I have a Mexican passport in US and a now American stomach in Mexico. I am a sombrero in the 'little room' and a sweating pig on a Mexican toilet. I guess that is the price of border jumping.

Back in NY the weather is warm enough to drink my coffee outside. On plain midtown someone hopeful asks me where did I get my coffee. I tell him: "There is a starbucks across the street " He interrupts me disappointed "Oh Starbucks I can't afford, I'm looking for any other" -"I don't know then. You might have to go back 7 years." How fucked up.

Then a lady was looking at the street saying: "C'mon sweetie, come to the tree, come to the tree". To my surprise there was no 4 year old, no pet, no dog, no cat looking for a tree to pee on. But only a couple of uncaged birds. "That's right!" She said "I am bringing the birds back to the trees.." Her toothless mouth opened up in what I guess was a smile, then looked up to the tree and said: "Say hello to my friend, say hello". I waived my hand to a couple of birds said Jesus! and went downstairs to head uptown.

Walk a couple of New York streets take a two stop subway ride and you come out a writer. But no matter how long a metro ride you can't find a place to eat like the neighbours three worlds down south. That shit is worth every shout of repentance to Moctezuma... Not to mention the avocados... they're no rocks, they're no rocks..

Scenes From The Underground V: "Unintentional Bonding"

2006-12-29T19:01:00.000-05:00

The man sitting in the middle (we'll call him Senor Jorge) is about 59 years 3 months and 6 days old. His red shirt under his green tie under his brown coat over his blue phosphorescent pants suggest he might be colorblind. He has a Columbia Professor kind of beard and glasses. He opens his little tiny pocket book of the day: "DIA 25 DE OCTUBRE"...

A bold, short and thin semi-bearded toothless dude wearing sandals under ex-white ripped socks and guns n roses fake leather jacket disrupts the fairly calmed atmosphere of the afternoon subway ride.
"Ladies and Gentlemen, a lot of people accuse me of not really being blind ladies and gentlemen. But if I wasn't really blind, wouldn't I wear sunglasses to pretend ladies and gentlemen?? God knows I'm really blind ladies and gentleman". He moves around holding his stick with his clumsy left hand and a pig money box with his much more skilled right one.
"Please do not make fun of the blind ladies and gentlemen, cause those who make fun of the blind should pay with nothing less ladies and gentlemen".

The sound of the fury of 1374 rats simultaneously being crushed hits the high end notes of our pitch perception limits. The subway slows down till it finally completely stops. The lights go out not long afterwards.
"Aaaahhhh!!! I can't seeee!!!... ladies and gentlemen.. I can't fucking see! I'm caught in my own game . I have been punished! I am punished thee! convicted with eternal blindness by the looord!!! I've payed with nothing less ladies and gentlemen!!"- Cries the blind man.
"Oh relax you idiot.. the lights are off" -says calmed Truman, an original New Yorker who has never left the island or learned how to drive in his 32 years of life.
"Oh my god! I am trapped underground!!!...that's disgusting!" -Complains Snobby Sarah from the Upper West Side.
"OK, don't panic.. just whatever you do DON'T PANIC!!! I know CPR!! I know CPR!!" -Shouts Tom, who has never been accepted to the NY City Fire Department after 16 tries. He is hoping this might be the year, fingers crossed.
"Stop grabbing me stop touching me!!" -Continues Snobby Sarah and her humongous breasts.
"I'll tell you who did this.. It was those goddamn terrorists!!.." -Suggests a nasal 72 year old female voice.
"Well, you can't discard the Jews.. nor the Mexicans!!" -Answers a BBQ chicken filled mouth with a southern accent.
"Fuck you I'm Mexican and Jewish.. and black and gay.. and republican.." -Someone follows
"There are no Jews in Mexico.. much less republicans in NY" -the conversation continued
"That's true. And I've seen Mexicans, and they don't look nothing like you.. you are not Mexican.. much less black.." -Says the blind man
"OK, But I am a gay republican.."
"That's ab-so-lu-tely ri-diculous!!" -Argues a fake super forced English accent whose spitting smashes the window behind the opposite row and showers the faces of everyone present.
"What stop are we at now?" -Wakes up chronic drunken Billy.
"Stop touching me.. stop grabbing me.. Rape! rape!" -Insists now Pathetic Sarah
"Would someone like a french fried?"-says Mr. McDonald
"I'd like ALL those fucking French fried" -answers the BBQ chicken-filled mouth from the south.
"No I mean a freedom potato" -He takes a piece of chunk covered in ketchup, dripping like blood in a clogged artery trying to escape (he would be killed by a lightning discharge 7 years later) He drops the fry under the seat and picks up a mass of cheddar with a nacho.
Jackie and Allen's heavy breathing makes the following uncomfortable silence disturbing. Their rubbing of each other's genitals is non-stop. A 19 year old goddess gets up and sits down on Senor Jorge. She humps his decadent penis.

As he is about to get a heart attack, Senor Jorge closes his book, the 19 year old vanishes and the lights come back. The subway gets on its way. Snobby girl realizes there was no one even remotely close to her and her self-esteem is shattered. Soon we find out that Mr. Mexican Jewish black gay republican was an Irish homeless with the beard of a dwarf, which swept the subway floor that hadn't been taking care of since 1983. Mr. Ladies and Gentleman stands up and picks up his stick, which had rolled down all the way to the other side of the wagon. "Would you spare for the blind ladies and gentleman. I may be blind Mexican Jewish black and gay and lesbian, but I'm not a republican ladies and gentleman". "Hehehehe" -Everyone shares some laughs like at the end of Scooby Doo. Mr. Mexican Jewish black gay who is really an Irish homeless with the beard of a dwarf gives him a penny and takes a quarter, taking advantage of the blind's fixed staring on Snobby Sarah's boobs.
They all hold hands, make a circle and sing Kum Ba Ya...

Chanukah Blog Tour 5767

2006-12-21T14:55:00.000-05:00

Due to the increasing popularity of Cabeza De Re, cool and hot writer Amy Guth asked me to join this Chanukah Blog Tour. On the first night one blogger answers this meme. On the second one two, on the third three and so on. We are in the seventh right now.. I think..

To find out more about Amy and her new book Three Fallen Women go to www.amyguth.com

Before we start I just want to say that Amy Guth referred to me as a 'she'. And I'm clearly not a she. I mean, I do carry a "man" purse. But it is European OK! If you don't believe me I'm a boy, check out R.E. with moustache (hope it doesn't backfire on me)..

Anyways.. these are the questions Mr. Amy asked me to answer:

1. Quick! You must turn a plate of latkes into an upscale gourmet delight (as if they aren't) dress them up the flavor and/or garnish them?

Turn off the lights, light some candles, cut each latke in half, serve one per plate, call it Le Latkeau.

2. What is the dumbest thing you've ever heard anyone say about Chanukah?

I don't know. But I think Santa Clause is an Anti-Semite. He skips the door if he sees a mezuzah? What about the Jewish children? What about the Jewish Children? We like ponys and trains too!! Oh and I like beer.. and football.. (see that Amy?)

3. What's the best possible use for olive oil?

I use it to clean out my bicycle engine. But my roommate covers himself up with it and spends the night in the freezer. He needs help.

4. Settle it once and for all. Latkes or hammentaschen? Which do you prefer? What about pitting the winner of that contest against sufganiyot?

Hammentaschen! but only if pronounced with a German accent. Hammentaschen!

5. What's the best way to mix up a game of dreidel?

OK.. this game is unbelievable. First of all you throw out the dreidel. Then you go to 367th st. You will see a blue door that's next to a black one that's in front of a place that has a dolphin on it. Go down the stairs. Knock three times, whistle twice and ask for one-eyed billy.. they'll know what you mean. From there you just play it by ear.

This last question was brought to you by: IMAX, Pink Floyd, The Big Lebowski, Seven Eleven, Taco Town, Pizza Town and Nintendo.

6. My novel, Three Fallen Women, shockingly enough, is about the lives of three women. Which three women would you like to have over for latkes this year and why?

a) My future wife Natalie Portman: Not only is she hot and beautiful and rich and famous and talented and smart and went to Harvard. But she is also a Jew!! isn't she?

b) Bjork: She is my hero.

c) Amy Poehler: To entertain us.

runner up: Jessica Rabbit.. How fucked up you have to be to have sex with a rabbit?

7. Other than Three Fallen Women (har har), what book do you think would make a great Chanukah gift this year? What book would you like to receive as a gift this year?

To my dear ones I would give:

a) An Inconvenient Truth by Al Gore
b) The God Delusion by Richard Dawkins
c) How to get a job for dummies

I don't want any books, I have way too many.. But I wouldn't mind getting the complete full encyclopedia of... something.. But instead of the Encyclopedia, can I get the equivalent in cash??

8. What blogger didn't participate in Chanukah Blog Tour 5767, but you think should have?

I'd like to ask Freud which three women he would have for latkes. I'd like to ask Jesus about sufganiyot versus latkes versus hammentaschen! And I'd like to ask Paris Hilton how to spice up a game of dreidel.

Besides them: Coffee and Concrete and the Marcos Kirsch Experience

Jag Sameaj le kulam yeladim!!
Thank you to Amy Guth and all the bloggers out there.
Feel free to navigate through Cabeza de R.E; It is not only an experience but a way of life..

New REian Idol Of the Month: BJORK

2006-12-13T08:05:00.000-05:00

For unknown reasons (most likely divine intervention) I've recently become obsessed with the beautiful Icelandic artist. I bought all of her CD'S and watched her movie Dancer In The Dark, (5 years later) where not only is her music absolutely fascinating (and the movie) but her acting is superb too.

She is an incredible singer, with one of the richest and most beautiful tones I've ever heard. More than that, I believe she is the most expressive female singer in popular music since Billie Holiday. Superb compositional and arrangement skills, a pioneer whose always been way ahead of her time. She'll make you want to cry with every note she sings.. and her beautiful accent..

That's right motherfuckers. Bjork is now an REian Idol!!!!

Grinchin'..

2006-12-09T11:36:00.000-05:00

Ok ok ok ok ok ok ok ok ok ok ........... This ridiculous over pre- pre-mature Christmas madness has to stop!!
I've been holding off for like two months. I was still wearing shorts and was still picking apples when the Holiday season had already begun. A couple of Santa movies appeared in the previews, I got my coffee served in a reddy snowy smiley jingly recipient and I threw it out. Too sweet.
Suddenly I found myself surrounded by santas and elfs and over-decorated trees
and manipulative melodies.. It was still November. November!
My coat wasn't even out yet. (It is still not, but now because of denial). Last time I heard, Christmas day was on December 25th.
Now, some of you may have been wondering why hasn't R.E. been writing any R.Eian mumbling crazy absurd cucu jaggibbagy bugga bugga.... Even approximately one of you actually demanded more absurd random meaningless and meaningful thoughts (thanks mom). Well, what happened was that every time I sat down at the computer I started complaining about this holiday madness. But, I didn't want to write about it. Cause If I did write about Santa in November, I would be actually contributing to his premature arrival. It is a trap! And I refused to be a part of it. (Do you know he doesn't even exist??) But now I had it. I can't take it no more.. SO I wrote a speech:

Dear Pope, Baby Jesus, Santa, Elf, Starbucks, Bloomingdale's and Paramount Pictures:
Didn't Jesus himself tore down the salesmen doing business in the house of god in the name of god? If He the Lord was alive today.. Wouldn't he set Macy's On fire at this point??
Was Baby Jesus Himself born on December 25th or between November 1st and January 2nd???
Wouldn't Christmas time be more exciting if it didn't last a quarter of the year? After all, what makes the FIFA World Cup so exciting is the fact that it takes place only once every 4 years. What if we had Christmas once every 4 years??
AT least don't eat up the fall. Soon winter will be summer, and summer will be hell, and fall will be winter, and it will snow in the dessert and we'll swim the warm waters of Antarctica..
Let us please enjoy the little fall we have left.. Don't start December in September people..
Please.. I've been good... well... except for all those drugs.. and that girl I never called.. and, well I did steal from a blind, and that time when I took the sit from an 87 year old grandma.. But besides that.. I am a good boy.. YOU can ask my mom. She always tells people "how could anyone not like him?" Thanks..

Please note that I have nothing against Christmas, but only against the use of it.
Call me a Grinch, but I'm not one of Pavlov's Dogs whose going to take being pre-conditioned to satiate and shit my pants while hypnotized into a trance every time I see red and snow and listen to jingle bells. Are we in a Brave New World ? are we in 1984? I'm actually starting to believe that subway musicians are actually government agents imposing happiness on people through Merry Christmas melodies strategically written to stabilize and forget the health care system, and the war in Iraq and the unemployment. We should at least have had Rodin design the Christmas advertising or Mahler composed the music, then it might not have been as painful. Why Mr. Sinatra? Why did you have to record countless versions of manipulative songs that torture the brain and trap it for days and days?. Yesterday I found myself singing about Rudolph in the shower for chrissake!!
Waiting in line at the pharmacy or post office, or on the telephone line while attempting to reclaim those extra 125 dls mysteriously added to your account by the cellphone company is never as painful as it is on Christmas. "Could you hurry up with my fuckin coffee!! I already heard Santa Claus is coming to town twice! I don't care if my groceries are in plastic or paper, I've already been wished merry Christmas 27 times through your lousy speakers! Don't take a time out!! Please don't go to commercials!!" Oh sweet lordy lord..

Yes. Santa probably won't show up in my apt after all of this... Well, good! I don't want to smell my roommate's stinky socks hanging in the living room anyways. (But If you do happen to come by my dear Santa, I would love an ipod, the new Nintendo, a Starbucks gift card and the new Pirates of the Caribbean DVD... that would be cooool!!!)

Trick Or Trick?

2006-10-31T06:12:00.000-05:00

The wind blew in opposite direction that night, for it is rarely the occasion that one sees a firefighter talking Nietzsche, Nietzsche talking football, and Mother Teresa fucking on a pool table. Prince Harry dressed as Nazi left with a broken nose, apparently Mr. Pack Of Cigarettes ('I kill' written on his chest) didn't know who the Prince was, ironic indeed. It didn't help that the skinny boy dressed as Harry dressed as Nazi was licking the Caveman's feet (Mr. Pack of Cigarettes real-life brother).

-"You can't get in without a custom"
-"But you don't have a custom either'
-"I am 'the bouncer'"
-"Shit, have you seen my keys? I am the man who lost his keys"
-"Fuck off you fucking nihilist!"
-"The man who forgot his custom?"
-"Out!! and you with the hat, In!"
-"But I don't have a custom either"
-"Yes you do.."
-"OK"

And so I got in without a custom and no one realizing it. Everyone thought I wasn't like this on a day to day basis. I wasn't the only case through. Mr. Crazy with a Straight Jacket Shouting "Stop Licking My Ear You Fucking Purple Pig feet Red Nose Lizard!!" won the best custom while his Institution closed after the elopement (third in the month). But his price wasn't as good as Smokey The Homeless's.
-"U got a couple of dollars to spare mam?"
-"Hehehehe, a couple of dollars? don't they usually ask for like.. 30 cents or something?"
-"Anything would do.. I ain't got nothing but a sick daughter Angel"
-"Hehehe, I'm Juliet. You know Romeo And Juliet? Claire Danes, DiCaprio. I love your custom though. It's.. kinda... sssexxxyyy."
-"Seriously mam, a couple of dollars to spare for the homeless?"
-"Stooop iiit! hehe.. you are so funny.. Your breathe even smells. Is that to get more into character?"

Her suspicion grew when he took off his shoes and she finally realized what she did when she woke up to an empty apartment. She was taken to the Hospital for post-traumatic stress disorder, where she recognized Mr. Crazy with a Straight Jacket Shouting "Stop Licking My Ear You Fucking Purple Pig feet Red Nose Lizard!! from the party. Did you fuck a homeless too? She asked. I fucked a purple pig feet red nose lizard. Stooop it..

Back in the party there was Cory Lidle with a Yankee's jersey and an airplane helmet dancing tango with a building.
"Hilarious ah? the girl dressed as a building is my roommate."
-Well I hope you have insuraaaaaaoohhhhh shit!! whatta fuck are you?
-I'm leprous monster girl
-How did you do... that...
-I covered myself in olive oil and spent the night in the freezer.

"Jesus man" I told Jesus- People do some crazy things this time of the year
"Tell me about it man" Said Jesus- "Tell me about it".

On the corner Mr. Reverend was putting ecstasy on people's mouths, In the other Mick Jagger and jOHN mCENROE were sniffing coke. Mick Jagger's mask came pre-designed with a special hole in the nose. John McEnroe was actually supposed to be Serena Williams, but you wouldn't notice with her coat on.

Here comes Marylin Monroe, She is Madonna, she is Marylin Monroe. What are you? GO to hell, I told you she is Madonna, she told you to go to hell, and you are Jesus. Exactly, she is Marylin Monroe.

There are the ones who choose a random profession and make it 'sexy' (sexy nurse, sexy teacher, sexy pirate, sexy maid, sexy waitress) those are the mainstream girls taking advantage of the one day they can act like whores and not feel guilty about it. There are those who choose a well known figure (borat, batman, spiderman, bush,) these are the ones with poor sense of creativity. There are the politically incorrect (saddam, nazi, osama, arab with bomb belt,) these are the ignorant rebels. The creative ones choose random things (pack of cigarettes, suit on hook, autumn tree) or current affairs (global warming, bird flu, contaminated spinach) Some stick with tradition (witch, frankenstein, pumpkin) and others take tradition to an extreme (beaten up raped boy, herpes girl, bloody vampire, half eaten face) these are the ones who were abused when little... some are nihilists without a custom (either shy or skeptics) and some are customs by nature, such is the case of smokey the homeless, mr crazy and the pig feet lizard and me (the boy with the hat).. For us, it was just another night at the village..

Phrase of Wisdom #2

2006-10-28T14:37:00.000-04:00

The good thing about art -said the bum- is that no matter how much you stink, there is always the chance of one day being considered a genius...

Scenes From The Underground IV: The missing 'I'

2006-10-12T20:11:00.000-04:00

I'm on my way to Brooklyn. My friend takes out his book. It is like an Italian version of Life Aquatic taken place in Afghanistan. I open my book too, a non-fiction about European systems and politics called "Why Europe will run the 21st century". As I'm reading I wonder "mmm.. There must be a typo". Shouldn't it be "Why Europe will ruin the 21st Century"?. Anyhow. A couple of guys dressed in camouflage get on the train with a couple of congas. "Alright everyone.. We are here to play some music. That's right motherfuckers! Some M-U-S-I-C.. Hope you like it". My friend and I look at each other and say "Oh shit".

Some teenage guy is dared to dance, takes off his sweatshirt and throws it to the crowd. He does have a couple of moves, but is more bark than bite.
Half of the train joins the party one way or the other. Among them 13 African American teenagers coming from school, 2 Japanese tourists taking pictures and 2 Canadian females in their forties with offbeat clapping and wrinkled smiles. The other seem disgruntled, particularly a 53 year old beautiful woman from the Upper West who covers her precious ears with passion and her Jewish nose with love.

'Now you' -says Mr. Camouflage conga player #1 to a large young lady standing nearby. She is wearing velvet boots over her jeans and the biggest most ridiculous earrings I've ever seen in my entire life (same goes for her boobs) they are lozenge-shaped and made out of fake silver (same goes for her earrings). 'Yeah right' -She rejects the invitation.

Then all of a sudden, this grown up man sitting next to me abruptly stands up and joins the party. He takes the stage with some confused but dedicated moves. Unfortunately, he comes back without an applause, heads down. He is wearing cocodrile hunter-like beige shorts, beige sandals, beige rain jacket over beige polo shirt, beige baseball cap and beige pair of glasses. He is a 60+ year old light black skinned medium class fellow.

After 10 minutes of playing or so the guys get up and fashionably and hippily and hypocritically and strategically ask for money. "Anything will do. 'Hey I enjoyed it', 'Thanks for the music', two thumbs up', 'I appreciate it' 'you changed my life', a penny, a quarter, a dollar, a twenty, a fifty, your heritage, your wife, your dog, anything." The guy approaches the old man sitting next to me, gives him a firm handshake and says.. "Thank you very much SIR. Do you have a card?". The old man takes out his beige wallet and reaches for his beige card. "No, no, no, no... I mean do you have one of OUR cards?" -says the hippie- long pause... "Oh.. I see.. You want to give me your card but don't want mine.. I understand.. " "Oh no sir, it is just that.." "No, no, no.. It's fine I understand.." "OH no Sir, listen to me,.." "NO, no, no, I understand. I'm old enough to be your grandpa" "SIR, listen to me, LISTEN TO ME.. I would gladly take your card. I would looooove to have your card. I just saw you talking to my partner, so I thought he may have given you one of our own cards.. That's all.. That's all I'm asking.. If he gave you one of our cards or not"
"No, no, no.. It is fine.. You don't want my card, I don't want yours" "Here Sir, please take one.. TAKE ONE! C'mon!" "Listen young fellow.. Listen.. The exchange we just had through music was beautiful, I enjoyed it and I thank you... There is no need for anything else.. Really" "Alright sir". Firm handshake. Firm look.

My friend and I look at each other and say "Oh shit". We go back to our respective books.. Europe and its 'passive aggression' strategies. The typo. Is there a missing 'i'?. The European missing 'I'. Isn't that what the Sartres, Camuses, Dostoevskys and Heideggers where talking about? Trying to fit in all the missing I's? 'Who am I? Where am I? What am I? When am I? What does 'I' mean? What do I mean? Who are all these I's? Where are all these 'I's?

-"ISN'T IT ABSURD ALBERT?"
-"YES IT IS JON.. YES IT IS"

Scenes From The Ground I: Faith Medley

2006-10-02T09:32:00.000-04:00

I'm sitting on a cab. I have one of my specialty salads with me. Hearts of Palm a la R.E. I won't say what it has on or in it, it is a secret, but it's good... good as hell.. or heaven.. I also have a bottle of wine. Chianti is my favorite, merely because it reminds me of my trip to Chianti, where I tried all sorts of wine and heard bitching about the French. I call my grandparents in Mexico right away. "Hi, Jatima Tova!" "Jatima Tova R.E, have a good year, with love and happiness and health and most of all for you to find and bring an extra person to the family, and second for you to get a 'real job'...Etc." "Thank you bube, thank you zeide, hope you are healthy and happy and may all your dreams.. well, not all of them -I don't want to be married with kids next month-, but most of them come true". IN the middle of this Yom Kippur chit chat I realized the taxi driver is singing to his tape. Interesting music. A lonely voice singing with passion through a megaphone in some strange language.... Then my grandpa tells me "now I'm going to give you a very important yom kippur blessing that my father used to give me" -Like if it was the first time-. Every single year he has given me this blessing. I guess it has worked out every time (haven't crashed no airplane).. Yup, I'm still alive.. For the most part anyways.. (Sometimes I don't feel my right toe)
In the middle of the prayer I realize the driver's tape is singing Muslim prayers. Intense ones too. So on my left ear I'm hearing a Yom Kippur prayer (Evarecha, Adoshem ELokecha, velabecha echalecha checha..) and on my right ear I have a Muslim one (hamalahama.. ahhhrahahemaha.. eeeeeeyyyeeeyyye le uhu mahumahumahumohamama) I start shifting my attention from one to the other. One becomes the lead and the other does some crazy harmony in the background. It is fun. I get off the phone and off the cab. As I take out my wallet I ask the driver "is that a prayer you are listening to?" "yes, Muslim prayer". "what is the prayer for?" "what you mean what is it for? for god!". "It is very nice" -I say and start mocking some of it. He laughs. "Take care," "you too". (You f**ing jew) -(You f'**ing muslim)..

Had I been blessed twice? Or do Muslim and Jewish prayers cancel each other out if prayed or heard at the same time? Would I be damned by both? Or maybe I'm halfway covered?. Maybe all I need is to get Christ on the phone and Buddha on a tape and I would be for sure taken care of? If you are not sure, bet for everyone right?.

I walk up the stairs and before I know it I'm sitting ON them, covered on hearts of palm and cherry tomatoes. I'm also holding my knee like a wussy Italian soccer player, I yell at Lupe: "Lupe! Come clean this shit up!" But even Lupe is out for Yom Kippur in this new jewrk city. My dog's cousin, I mean my cousin's dog, opens the door for me. "Here is the wine, the salad is on the stairs". "Oh.. thank you.. that's sweet... BUt who is going to drink wine on yom kippur? want to get drunk and then fast?" -said cousin Y.

My other cousin, Cousin I, tells me about the voice mail he just got.

answering machine: I'm currently away from my..
grandpa: Chulo? Sweetie?
answering machine: please leave a message..
grandpa: Sweetheart?
answering machine: beep..
grandpa: hello?? helloooo? chulo are you there?
answering machine: (silence)
grandma: viejo! viejo! it is probably the answering machine
grandpa: what? chulo?
grandma: c'mon viejo, say the prayer! say the prayer!!
grandpa: oh.. this is a prayer my grandfather blablabla... evarecha adoshem elokecha.. bishareja
answering machine: end of message

"Really? That's funny..And actually.. Give me that motherfucking phone.. I think I may need to hear that prayer again". I listen to the prayer and Buddha appears on TV. Oh for Christ sake!
ON my left ear I have the Jewish prayer (Evarecha Adoshem ELokecha echa checha) and on my right I have some weird Buddhist semi-silence (OMMMMM... OOOOMMMMM) I start shifting from one to the other.. Oh Jesus Christ! You are confusing me man!! then with a bald movement I throw the bottle of wine on the floor. "Oh, I'm so sorry.. so sorry.. please please.. let me.. let me.. here.. ok.. " I notice a rounded stain of wine on my white shirt looking like if I just got stabbed.
God Damned! Fuck me!! Shit fuck!... mmm.. I think I'd better fast and get rid of karma police.... I may be in trouble.....
Or...well... ... Nah!.... Fuck It!.... I trust Nietzsche, I trust Nietzsche....
(I trip again and fall on dogshit)

The art of personalized coffee: Enjoy it while it lasts

2006-09-28T11:56:00.000-04:00

Neighborhood feeling. Enjoy it while it lasts. There is nothing like getting to the coffee cart and having your coffee already waiting for you.. The way you like it..
For the past year. Every single day I buy coffee at the same coffee cart in my neighborhood, right next to the subway stop, where this guy with relatively ambiguous background (could be Turkish, Israeli, Palestinian, Algerian, Greek) spends his day.
Approximately 8 steps before getting to the cart, Mr. Relatively ambiguous background, a truly expert at multitasking, nods at me, while at the same time takes the order of 3 other rushing new yorkers, serves 4 anxious coffee maniacs, and charges and gives back change.. All at the same time (truly incredible). Now, this nod is nodded by a serious face, with staring eyes, one more open than the other (the right one) similar to a secret agent who gives the 'go' sign to his puppet, a pitcher to his catcher, or Mr. Miaggi to karate kid. It is subtle, but determined. It means different things. IN its essence it means "once again?". And I nod back. "once again". Deep down there is probably more meaning "Are you fucking kidding me? small coffee with milk and one sugar again? how can you live like this? every single fucking day at the same time!" And my nod means "YES, Now shut up and give me my coffee!".
Now, to tell you the truth. There have been times when I kind of feel like tea. But I'm scared. I'm scared to ruin the whole thing. If I have tea once, then this guy might get confused and there would always be the chance of me getting tea, so the guy is going to have to wait till I get there to see what I want. Forever and ever. The whole nodding would disappear. NO turning back. And let's face it, as Carrie Bradshaw incredibly annoyingly over mega redundantly repeats on her stupid show that I don't understand how some girls like: "After all.. hehe..This is New York!! hehe.." And no one has time here ('hehe..'). So, I want my coffee waiting for me. I don't want to order it. And more than the issue of time it is the fact that it just gives me a neighborhood feeling.

On weekends, there is a slight change of routine. The cart is not there. When I first realized I went into panic and started aimlessly wondering the streets. Before I knew it I was asking for money 70 streets downtown.
Then I discovered a dunking donuts. But their coffee doesn't wait for you like in the cart. And I am impressed by the people working there. It takes them 3 minutes to finish saying: "What... would... you... like....... sir?" I say, "small coffee with milk and no sugar" (in dunkin land two sugars means 6, one sugar means 4 and no sugar means 2)
So the person attending me takes one step off the register and he/she comes back pointing her/his index finger at me and looking at the sky goes "large coffee.. hmm.. with no milk and 2 sugars??.. "NO, small coffee with milk and no sugar". 3 seconds later: "So it is a medium coffee with.. what?" "Small coffee with milk.. and... NO.. 'NADA'.. SUGAR.." 5 minutes later, I get my tea with cream and 4 sugars. Damn!

Then I discovered a great great place two blocks away.
Now this place is the real neighborhood place. It is a little store where members of the community gossip. The best, is the ordering part. This guy in his upper 60's comes and asks you with his tongue between his teeth "thir what would you like thir?". Before I give my response, his wife, a truly 'big momma' wearing a hat, dress and shoes all with the same design (dark green with big rounded white dots) has already stopped doing whatever she is doing and is looking at me like if I'm some strange alien. And she doesn't let her husband do anything. So I say to both of them: "Can I get an egg n' cheese sandwich and a small coffee with milk and one sugar please?"
Then big momma comes in with her enormous humongous ass, balancing her whole body from side to side like a duck.. or a huge cruise ship on open water in the middle of a storm. She asks me with a nasal voice "Now would you like them peppers on your sandwich sweetheart?" "Sure mam, thanks" "cause some like em peppers and some don't, that's why I'm asking, (grasp) that's all.. I DON'T WANT to put peppers and shdajsds#@%$#$%^^&........ (inaudible). BIg momma walks away from the cashier and into the kitchen, but she doesn't stop telling her story. Then she comes back still speaking: (inaudible) .....$#%@adbjdks surely do speCIALLY ON WEDNESDAYS BUT HOW COULD I TELL.. HEHEHEH"- "hehehehe". It is like a fade out fade in on your stereo.
"Alright, so an egg and cheese sandwich, and a coffee.. that'll be 1.75 my dear"(1.75!!!!!) - "Here" "Thank you, good morning, and maaay the loooord bless you my son.. "- "You too mam"

Shit, what is going to happen to all these places?

They are all becoming fucking starbucks. 5 hours on line, 2 to figure out how to say what you want, and 5 dollars for a fucking coffee.. 5 dollars. And in some of them they tried to implement this neighborhood feeling. They would write your name on the cup. SO when your coffee is ready some angry teenager dork wearing glasses and that horrible green apron yells: "JENNIFER! JENNIFER!" Then 4 blonds lift their hand.. "me! me! me!.. oh what did you order? my name is Jennifer too. Oh latte with low fat milk, no I had the tall machiatto with soy milk, what is this? no sugar.. yes I ordered with fake sugar.. blablabla

And they already started selling CD's.. I'm telling you. Before you know it there will be Starbucks Cologne, Starbucks Music Store, Starbucks Bar and Grill and Starbucks Cinema..
Sweet fucking Lord!!

Though I have to admit. I do like their Tall Chai Tea Latte.. And all those Jennifers..

Scenes From The Underground III: Subway Eye-Flirting #2763

2006-09-14T13:50:00.001-04:00

I'm sitting in the subway. It is a Londonesque day outside in New York City. Raining not enough to wear an umbrella, enough to make you wet. I am reading about global warming on my semi-wet sweater, semi-dampened jeans and naturally caused wet look hair. Next to me is this good looking blond female. She moves closer to me as she makes room for someone who sits to her left. I occasionally look off my magazine and to her arm. She has a beautiful arm. Golden skin and some freckles. I often look back through the window behind me to 'see what stop we are on', but never able to get a good glance at her face. Farther to my right there is another girl. She seems pretty. The blond gets off one stop before I do. I keep reading about global warming then get off and change lines, hardly making it to the subway before the doors close. I notice the girl who seemed pretty and was farther to my right got in the same car. She has a hair plait and an ipod with an icase that reads 'muffin' in green crayon. Gorgeous upper lips elegantly falling on top of the lower like a theater's red curtain. She delicately bangs her head in the air to the indie-rock music she is listening to. We are both standing, holding the same post, occasionally looking at each other, playing the old 'I see you see me see you'.
She takes off her plait and lets her brown hair free in head and shoulders slow motion TV commercial fashion. On one of the seats behind her, a crazy man moves incessantly like an orthodox Jew praying kol nidrei, his torso balancing back and forward with obsessive passion. He must be in his mid 30's and looks like a guy whose name is definitely Chester, Chester Crackhead the Red-eye Bully. A few seats suddenly open up after 72nd St. stop, I wait and see if she opts to take one. She doesn't. We are still standing in front of each other. Our eyes suddenly meet for 20+ seconds that feel like 3 days. I get goose bumps and my face turns as red as hers. We definitely have something going on here! It is overproven now. Just say something to her you fucking idiot, Anything! "what are you listening to?, what's up with that muffin thing? Is this going express or local? You look like someone I know, nice shoes, hi-hey-ha, I love you marry me Anything!! Just open your fucking mouth this one is a win-win you fucking jerk!" She hesitantly gets off the subway, should I get off too? Pretend this is my stop? The doors close before I know it. It is over. I've had many many eye-flirting subway loves, never one became so close to see the light. I sit, look at her through the window and she looks back at me as the train starts leaving. "She is beautiful" -says to me Chester Crackhead the Red-eye Bully- I notice he stops rocking on the seat to tell me this. "Yeah, she is" -I answer with a half smile. Chester goes back to his trip. What a wonderful world! -I think, as I resume on global warming.

Scenes From The Underground II: Intrusive music on a Sunday night

2006-09-11T01:15:00.001-04:00

I'm waiting for the subway. Reading a novel. One of those classics from last century with such particular crazy characters whose name starts with H and talk shit about everything in 1st person. Like Holden Caulfield, Harry Haller, Henry Chinaski, etc..
Music can be so intrusive. Certain songs should be illegal to sing in public spaces. It can completely mess you up, draw you into the song even if you don't want to. It may depress you and put you in a particular mood, one unrelated to the novel you are reading. Take a depressing song like 'Famous Blue Raincoat'. If I'm getting ready to go out to a bar or something and I hear that song, I would for sure take off my shoes, light a cigarette, lay in bed and cry. NO way I'm going anywhere. Don't get me wrong, I love depressing music, but that's why you don't hear certain music in bars. Imagine they put Beethoven's 5th in a club, people would start banging bottles on other people's heads. Or Mahler's 4th, people would stop drinking and start listening, owners don't want that. But give people some hip-hop and they start humping each other like monkeys, drinking their brains out. I hate those bars, except for the humping. Other songs just stay in your mind like traumatic childhood events. I used to play this horrible game with a friend. We would be walking and someone would start singing the most annoying song he could think of, one that would stay in the other's mind for the next 17 hrs, maybe years. Like a Creed song, or Bon Jovi or Green Day. You know, I heard this is actually a very practical and effective method of torture. You lock someone in a room with 'ABCD-EFG...' playing over and over at the highest possible volume and they will tell you everything, even which cave their boss is hiding in. Christmas songs are the worst though. SO manipulative. People are conditioned to feel happy and buy presents when they hear them. Like the ice cream car stupid little tune. Kids hear it and automatically start pulling their moma's shirt "momy! momy! Get me some fucking ice cream", even if they don't really want any. Though kids always want ice cream I guess, even if it is -30 degrees outside. I've always wondered who the fuck is the one driving that stupid little car. He/She must be the craziest person in the world. Listening to that shit the whole day. Sometimes I think they really sell drugs inside. Specially when I hear it go by at 11:39 PM. But Christmas songs'. Man! They taste like a jumbo size chocolate ice cream with fudge and whipped cream and cherry and chocolate bars and balls of sugar on top and without any water to even clean your fucking mouth. It makes me nauseous just to think about it. I have to say that it is not always that bad, music in the subways I mean. For Instance, the other day I got off the subway at 59th St., and had to change lines. There were a couple of guys playing bongos. They were grooving like motherfuckers. Shit, that was perfect. It felt it was just for me. Perfect film scoring for my random day. Then you hear a song like 'Tears In Heaven', so fucking annoying. I couldn't concentrate on my book. It just makes you want to cry. Like 'Patch Adams' or 'Pride and Justice'. I didn't even see them, but am sure they like those really terrible Hollywood movies that blackmail you to cry, an injection of psychodramatic bullshit. Almodovar and Inarritu are experts. The guy is dying of cancer then his brother dies, mother is a prostitute, dad kills himself, he gets his left leg amputated, both of his arms, gets AIDS from a nun and at the end his face is eaten alive by a monstrous bear for half hour as two minor chords play over and over in the background. Fucking Eric Clapton song, It got me into its mood. No escape. Like being stuck in an elevator with a huge Texan fat ass farting Indian food.

The subway came and Mr. Intrusive the guitar boy abruptly stopped playing his 37 dollar out of tune guitar, leaving the song unresolved. Just like that. It wasn't my subway though. Thank god. He probably sang 'Rudolph The Red Nose' as soon as he got in, even though it is only September. Jesus! for all we know it is Apple who pays these fuckers to sing out of tune and bother everyone. You know, to encourage buying ipods.
The other time I was coming out of a Sigur Ros concert. It was beautiful. I was still in their world, feeling very sigur ros. Then just when I got outside there was this guy singing 'You are My Sunshine'. Jesus son of Mary! It ruined the whole fucking concert for me! I wanted to smack him. But he would have probably kicked my ass. I am a pretty skinny guy. I can hardly kill a mosquito.
I went back to my novel. But the soundtrack was still playing in my mind. Eric Clapton just doesn't fit with the existentialists much less the enraged adolescents. I put the book away. My subway came up. Man, there is nothing like watching the subway arrive, specially when some stupid guy playing 'tears in heaven' just ruined your novel.
I sit and look for material. Something interesting to entertain myself with. Or maybe write about. The whole subway is sitting alone staring aimlessly. NO ipods, no books, no conversations. All depressed and lonely. Thinking about the upcoming week. Tomorrow's work, or search for one. A couple of people struggle to fall asleep, no one really could.
That's a Sunday night. People get depressed. It's like someone or something takes the soul out off us. It probably has to do with watching so much football. But mostly, it was because of that fucking Eric Clapton song, I'm 100% sure.
I get home, sit on my computer and open my blog. Now I have to write all these stupid ambiguously meaningful things I thought about on the way. Goddamn! Fuck that! No one even reads it anyway. Except for you. I'd better smoke a cigarette and go to sleep. Keep it to myself.

tHE aRT OF wANDERING: A Day IN the Life Of a Fly and The Post-Graduate Existential Crisis

2006-09-05T12:20:00.000-04:00

I woke up at 7:00 AM without an alarm clock. I stood up right away and went to buy milk to one of the 3 billion delis of NY city. I usually get my coffee elsewhere but today I decided to try theirs. Fucking hell! It tasted like rotten rat poison.. I drank enough to have my throat warm and ate just enough to have a cigarette on an unemptied stomach. Caffeine doesn't seem to work on me anymore. It actually seems to do the opposite from the desired effect. It made me go to sleep right before I finished the cup. I woke up from my first nap at 10:am. I'd been alive today for 3 hours an had already taking a one hour nap. I sat in front of the computer and looked at the 5 post-it filled with meaningless tasks that I 'had to' do. I wrote them last Thursday. One for each of the next 5 days. Today is Tuesday in the outside world, but still Thursday according to my calendar. Thursday for the 6th straight day. I was determined to finally start scratching off some activities, maybe tomorrow Wednesday I can finally move at least half-way through Thursday. Today's list included: laundry, kitchen, send resume, send resume, send resume, pay bills, call Mr. O, email Miss B, send resume, buy some mosquito-exterminator chemical weapon.. Etc..
I logged into some of my daily login websites. I saw 7 articles that I wanted to read, and wrote the titles in yet another post-it. None of the articles seemed that urgent to look at. I fell asleep on my desk chair. My second nap in less than 5 hrs of day. I'm not sure how long I slept for. A fly sat down on my forehead and woke me up. You don't see that many obese people in this city, but I doubt Houston has such huge flies. There is a luxurious huge banquet outside every building, where tenants paying millions throw what for them is garbage and for rats, insects and others is gourmet.

At first I thought my roommate had finally woken up transformed into a monstrous insect. He had been subleting my usual roommate's room for the summer, since the first had gone back home for the season. I was convinced the new guy will one day wake up metamorphosed. But this insect was not him, cause his contract was already done and he had been gone for 3 days. Summer was over. It was however, a transformed insect. Transformed into an unconventional size, probably with the help of the huge amounts of chemical waste this city expels. Maybe it drank some of the poisonous coffee I left on the table. I thought it could be my roommate for the day. After all it wasn't so different from my last one.

The good thing about this huge fly is that it was easy to follow. I always knew where it was, which not only served me as a defensive strategy (in case of a surprise attack), but also as entertainment. It had been standing on the western wall in my room for minutes, maybe hours. I thought it may be Jewish. It flew around me and stood on a Miles Davis record (kind of blue). It stayed there for 7 minutes, flew around me and came back to miles. It seemed to really like Miles. It was slowly caressing Miles' face with its gross thin legs. I put on the record and the fly flew out of excitement. I hadn't listen to this CD in so long. I knew it by heart and so did the fly, as I realized by the way it flew. When the melody went higher it flew higher, when it went lower it flew lower.

From this moment on I stopped calling it it, and referred to her as she; She the fly.
Oh She the fly, you and I are not so different after all. Wandering in the stupid room for hours, bouncing our heads to the walls. Moving aimlessly and confused. Drinking our poisonous coffee listening to Miles Davis. With our gross thin legs that have stood on so much shit. All so vulnerable. To crushing magazines, stinky shoes and chemical weapons. What will it be for us oh She The Fly.......

SWAAPP!!! Half of She The Fly got buried in the desk, the other half stuck to my shoe. She had been dead for god knows how long. I believe it must have been during the 7th round of Kind Of Blue when her life ended, just like that. She was old. Maybe 2 days or even 3. It just laid there on the desk. And I just smashed her death body, as a tribute, a memorial.. or an impulse.. maybe..

Then it hit me.. It was only a fucking fly anyways.. Who gives a rat's ass? and what am I doing spending the day with it!!!!!!???

Oh She The Fly, we are not so different after all...

Scenes From The Underground VI: Late Night Paranoia

2006-09-03T21:30:00.000-04:00

It is 4:45 AM.. on a Tuesday... "Fuck it"- I decide to take the subway..

Soon I realize there is not one normal person around.. not anyone coming back from hanging out or watching a movie at his or her girlfriend's.. Everyone here seems sick, illegal, drunk out of their minds, cracked, lost or homeless ..

When the subway comes, you usually have three cars to choose from, depending on where you're standing.
The one to my right has this dude who simply decided to just live there. He took off his shoes and took up the entire row with his barely living body and all the oxygen with his odor. I could smell him from the outside.
The one in the middle is being occupied by this fat man wearing blue pants and a t-shirt that covers no lower than his nipples. His hairy belly is falling off and his mustache hangs only from the right side. The windows are about to blow off at any upcoming snore.
I decide to get in the car to my left, which has two people, a girl and a boy. The first is staring aimlessly at the ceiling. I can't tell if it is borderline personality, post-traumatic disorder, chronic unemployment, post-break up intoxication or chemically induced retardation. The dude has a dropped jaw that seems to have taken a life of its own. It drops to the floor like a Warner bros cartoon on crack. He is likely to fall off the seat at any given second.
What I didn't realize from the outside is the row taken over by Popeye's Fried Chicken leftovers. Jesus my lord! First of all, Popeye didn't even eat fried chicken, he ate spinach. I don't know what he did during E. Coli outbreak but he is a healthy motherfucker and probably would buy at Whole Foods if he lived here. Second of all, what I can't understand is: there is the empty box spilling grease from within and there is the mustard and ketchup splattered on the floor like a Pollock. So far so good. Next to them however, a nicely stacked tower of untouched napkins, enough to cover a Greek wedding, is left untouched . What I wonder is, someone this disgusting, a pig who even devours the chicken bones, what does he need all these napkins for???

I search for spiders or bats to get bit by so I can acquire super powers in case of needed self defense, but all I see is pathetic rodents and insects looking for human feces. The thought of 'cockroach man' seems Kafkaesque, grotesque, unmodelesque and not very intimidating. So I just sit and pretend to myself I was trained in the Israeli army.We finally arrive at the station where we need to change lines... me and my thoughts I mean..
The subway is not coming. Still not one normal person in sight. First I see a guy pick up this huge ass screwdriver and put it back in his pocket. Is he coming back from brutal murder night or is he that cautious that he comes prepared in case the subway needs some fixing? A crazy dude with dreadlocks all the way to the floor suddenly jumps out from the tracks. Whatta hell was he doing down there? He walks 3 steps and runs 1, walks 3 runs 1, like a standard 1943 Volkswagen driven by a 13 year old kid. He looks for coins in between tracks. He gets closer stares at me like a Picasso and then talks to me: "Excuse me?....... ....Good... night... ". He walks a few steps and looks back "And merry Christmas". Not even 7 seconds have passed when out of nowhere an enraged adolescent with a swastika on his chest captures my attention. This is like watching tennis from the first row, my neck starting to hurt. The kid was most likely beaten up many times in kindergarten. He has pink hair and a winter coat down to his Dr. martins (it is plain august). He shakes his head non-stop and walks around in circles without losing a step. Then another guy, 6 feet tall with green hair and thin as a carrot is basically a carrot. 98% of his face is tattooed with dragons. He moves constantly from one platform to the other to check if the train is coming. He is obviously on coke and was abused when little. If you have tattoos all over your face to go along with over 15 piercings and black 9 inch nails you were definitely abused when little. Oh momma! this is a Vegas circus freak show. Not that I ever was in Vegas or ever will be. I am not too fond of fake Egyptian pyramids or Venetian rides on a dessert. I refuse to leave money on casinos, there is a Cirque du Soleil here in the subway and real. Yes, NY is like Vegas but real.

I finally get on the train. After a couple of stops a Haitian black man of about 34 years old steps in with a smile wider than the puppets' at It's a small world after all. He is completely bald and has a semi grown beard over a well rounded face. He comes up to me with his guitar:

-Hey there young fella!!
-no
-no what?
-I don't have man, sorry
-Yoooo! What is up my man? cheer up! What song you wanna hear?
-None. I don't have change.
-That is no matter my brother my man!! it is the love of music the joy of life I sing. Where are you from?
-Mexico
-Mexico?? You is not from Mexico! you don't look like no Mexico..
-Fine, Argentina.. They always kick our asses anyways..
-Alright, I have a song for you then.. but I need your help, cause I is no Mexico and I know not the lyrics.
-No mames va a tocar La Bamba este cabron.
-The bass line goes: turururu-tururu, tu-ru... and para lala la bamba... c'mon join me.. para la la la bamba..
-I throw a half smile and fill in every other word with apparent apathy.
-That's right my man! sing it louder! This is Mexico!!!.. sing it louder..

Before I know it I am standing on the seat singing my throat out like a drunk mariachi
-Para bailar la bamba se necesita una poca de gracia.. uuuuuuna poooooca de gracia...
-Alright!!! sing it louder now!!! that is right! ha ha!!

We high five and I get off at my stop. The sun is coming out and I am walking the streets laughing out loud thinking: "Wow! that was buzzard.. whatta fuck!!??"... Am I part of the freak show? Will Mr. Carrot write on his blog about this random dude with a stupid hat singing La Bamba on the subway at 530 in the morning? Gee.. I hope not.. I buy my jeans at Banana..

I am glad I somehow managed to survive the weirdest subway ride I've ever taken. "Now only 3 blocks and I'll be dreaming of muffins". I open the door and get mugged by my roommate. "Don't even call the police" -he threatens me with a kitchen spoon- "I know where you live". He takes my 60GB ipod, shuts his door and puts on Coldplay. Oh shit!! I fucking swear I don't know how that got in there... Well, I guess that confirms I am not a freak... (music changes to The Cure) Fuck!!

profile pic 1

2006-08-30T19:49:00.000-04:00

profile pic

2006-08-30T19:25:00.000-04:00

R.E. Wonders: "normal and abnormal"..

2006-08-28T12:57:00.000-04:00

-Hi, you seem normal -she says to me.
-Thanks..
-Look at all these weirdos, I can't take it any more. What is happening to the world?
-I don't know.. But..
-What?
-Well.. If you think about it.. If you and I are the only normals, and all of them are abnormal, then what is normal is to be abnormal, and what is abnormal is to be normal. So that makes normal people like you and I abnormal and them abnormal normal, you see? So you and I are actually the weirdos.
-Man! You are fucking weird!
-Thanks.. -I say to her back as she is halfway lost in the mass.

I realize she is normally weird after all.. Does that make me the only weirdly normal here? Or am I just thinking too much of myself? Or too little?

Fucking normal abnormals, where are the abnormal normals??

Scenes From The Underground

2006-08-27T05:05:00.000-04:00

-It is 400 AM. I am standing inside the earth. Underground. Waiting for the subway. I hear some keys fall. Then some voices. I notice they are coming from above the surface, the busy NY streets. I look up and listen.
boy #1: what did you drop?
woman: the keys!
man: how many did you have?
woman: five!
boy#1: She dropped her keys
boy#2: oh. Jim mbmbmbmbbbb (inaudible) over there..
woman: god dammed! my fucking keys.
boy#2 how many did you have?
woman: whatta fuck?.. jessica is going to kill me. I had to meet her home. This wouldn't have happened shu shu shu shu (someone's whistle passes by and takes over the conversation, the tune is 'bye bye blackbird')
boy#1: You are blaming me?? your purse was wide open!!
woman: yeah but it's not just that.. you are always... oh god!
boy #1: I'm always what? whatta fuck did I do?
boy #2: are you coming man?
woman: try to stick your hand in there..
boy#1: are you crazy? jashgdsjh (inaudible)

-I think I could write about this in my blog. The train finally arrives. I am happy. There is nothing like watching the train finally arriving. Specially at 4 AM.
-A young couple is sitting in front of me. The girl takes off her jacket, struggles to tie it around her waist. She has a lighten bulb drawn on her shirt that reads "I'm a fucking genius". They look at the subway map behind them and point at Long Beach. I think I should give my girlfriend a shirt that says "I'm fucking a genius". But I don't have one. Not the shirt not the girlfriend. I would probably think she is cheating on me every time she wears it anyways.
-I narrate the sequence of the events in my head as they are happening. A guy falls asleep and drops an empty bottle of Hawaiian punch on the ground. He has his ipod on. He is aprox 28 years old. Next to him there is another guy sleeping with his ipod as well. This one is wearing whites and in his thirties. I don't think they are together. Both of their heads are jumping around. At times it looks like they are going to hit each other.
-I realize the young couple is speaking Spanish but I can't really understand what they are saying. I take out my notebook and start writing what I see and hear. The word 'confianza' sticks out from their conversation and the girl puts both of her legs over the guy's left one. The guy scratches his left elbow. I try to look at them without influencing the scene. Like a mosquito on the wall. The guy becomes suspicious of my notebook. I can see it in his eyes.
-The bottle of Hawaiian punch rolls over to the other side of the wagon.
-I hear the word 'dracula' in their conversation. The girl puts her head on the guy's shoulder.
-Ah! Almost! The ipod guys almost hit each other with their heads.
-'Yo tambien' says the girl's guy.
-The driver announces a delay of the train. I look at the ceiling and say 'Puta Madre!' out loud. The girl's guy realizes I speak Spanish and grows more suspicious. The guy scratches his left eyebrow. The girl has a half smile. They get off at the next stop.

-A tall girl with an afro sits in their place. She has headphones and crosses her legs. she has gray shoes' I write. She stamps her foot. I'm not sure if it is to the music or to anxiety. I think the latter.
-Oh! The ipod guys almost hit their heads against each other again.
-An old lady gets in. She is wearing some short shorts and a dirty gray or ex-white t-shirt tied just below her huge breasts. Her football shaped like belly is visibly sticking out. She is teethless and dancing. She walks by and steps over the afro lady's expensive gray shoe. Afro lady looks at her grunting.
-Teethless lady sings "Share your love" as if she is offering herself. People say there is always someone horny enough. I'm not sure it would be the case for this one. She has a pair of jeans hanging on her back. She smiles and goes around the wagon repeatedly saying "Share your love" in a musical way. Two teenagers stand up laughing out loud "hahahaha, oh my god", she likes the attention and keeps doing it. The kids mimic her.
-Afro lady doesn't share a gesture. The laughs wake up both ipod guys. They realize they are dangerously close to each other and get weird out, look around and move one sit in opposite direction. The guy on the right cleans up the saliva from his face.
-I realize the train changed its route to a less convenient one for me. This often happens on weekends and late at night. I write this and miss the chance to get off and avoid getting even further.
-Share your love lady changes wagons. The plastic Hawaiian punch bottle rolls back to its original side.
- I get off at the next stop. Two rats greet me at the station. They are coming my way and I take a step to the right and they do the same from their perspective, increasing the distance between us. I wonder if they think humans are gross looking mammals. I drop my pen on the floor and as I am about to pick it up I think of the rats that just passed by and decide to leave it. I hear 'share your love' got off at this station too. I realize I actually got off at the right station somehow, and am close to getting home. I see this with indifference.
-It apparently rained while I was underground. A tall guy with a baseball cap asks me what train I just got off from A or D. "A" -I say- "Shit" -He says, and runs the opposite way.
-I go back to narrating these events as If I am writing them. I have no pen and can't write while walking anyways.
-A young boy is walking in my direction. He has a sweatshirt with the hood on. He takes his hand out from under his sweatshirt. He has a gun and shoots at me.
-As I'm walking I hear a couple of cars go by. They carry the watery streets on their wheels.
-I see a lady, aprox 40 years old, sleeping inside an old car with her mouth open. I Look away, and when I look back I see there is blood coming out off her mouth and her eyes are open.
-I smoke a cigarette in the kitchen.

-It is 400 AM. I am standing inside the earth. Underground. Waiting for the subway to go back home. I hear some keys fall. Then some voices. I notice they are coming from above the surface, on the busy NY streets.
-I stop typing.. Look at the hour. It is 5:05 AM.
-I wonder. When did I stop narrating things in my head as they were happening? When did I stop writing and began typing? I'm not sure. Which things were true and which I imagined for dramatic purposes?
-An overwhelming feeling of tiredness shakes my body. I picture myself getting inside the sheets and falling asleep. Should I keep typing these ambiguously meaningful sequence of events or just go to sleep. If I go for the latter I'll never record them. They'd be lost forever. In my unreliable memory. Yes, I wasn't the only one who saw Miss 'share your love', but no one else saw it from my perspective, in my context, in the same sequence of events. I wouldn't be able to encode my disorganized thoughts on my notebook anyways, or my mind.
-Fuck It! I go to sleep and will never write the piece, or whatever you want to call it. Let it just be what it was.

R.E. on vacations..

2006-08-16T06:42:00.000-04:00

Coming back august 27th with a new season!!!

R.E News: "Crisis erupts as models refuse to give up hair products at airport checkpoint"

2006-08-12T02:12:00.000-04:00

A group of models from the model agency 'New Sensations' refused to follow the new airport rules, in place since a terror plot to bring down commercial flights was thwarted by the British and American governments. A significant crisis erupted at NY's JFK Airport yesterday evening. According to the new rules, "All liquids and gels are banned from carry-on luggage, including all beverages, shampoo, suntan lotion, creams, tooth paste, hair gel and other items of similar consistency" (chron.com). Such policies apparently could turn devastating for traveling models.

Some members of the agency opted not to fly to London, where they were expected to arrive for an international modeling event, and decided to stay with their products even if it meant missing one of the biggest performances of their careers. "There is no way I'm getting in a
7 hr flight without my hair spray" -declared 18 yr old 'Anorexic' Jenny- "How am I gonna look when I get off?". "I need to put on this French face lotion every 19 minutes in order to maintain my 'I just came back from standing 34 hrs under a fake sun' look. They are asking me to throw it away?? This is a crime!!". -complained Shania. The group of 22 caused major delays in the already ridiculous waiting line to get to the gates. Their unwillingness to cooperate, their need for a 'child-like' explanation of what to do and their effusive diva-like response, resulted in a major crisis that almost brought down the whole system. "These are incredibly complex people. They live under a lot of pressure. Having their goods taken away is like taking lolipops from children"-Said unambiguously gay Alfred, the manager. Upcoming male model star Sebastian compared the 'waste' of hair products thrown to the garbage to the Battle Of The Alamo, it is absolutely unclear why. "I spent $250 on that 'pocket' styling hair gel you see on the trash. It is not like a L'oreal or whatever gross thing these people from Kansas or whatever use. This is an Italian hand-made gel made by hand by some Chinese people or whatever. And it is so cool you can carry it in your pocket. I rather crash than even think of some fat man from Kansas pick it up and use it the wrong way. Ew!" He said.

A few significant incidents took place at the checkpoint and caused major delays. A couple of members of the group were prohibited to take on board the Armani shirts they were wearing due to the excessive use of cologne, which according to officials was equivalent to three full bottles. They didn't look too happy in their 'I Love NY' T-Shirts. Constantine and 'SUgarFly' got their heads shaved on the spot; "Each of those guys had enough gel on their heads to blow up the whole city" according to reports. 8'0 feet tall Russian model Marina strangled an officer when he attempted to take away her vaginal cream, but she was soon taken under control by 5 policeman. 17 year old promise Gina died of hunger while waiting on line. 3 models instantly fainted after hearing the new security requirements, the imminent 2 week old lack of food ingestion they were on didn't seem to help. Two more models are being treated for shock. One of them who goes by the artistic name of 'choogabooga' (a made up name that just 'sounds cool') is suffering from delirium and has not stopped saying 'choogabooga shampoo, choogabooga shampoo' for nine hours.

The crisis reached new grounds when a model, whose name hasn't been released, was shot to dead by an officer after attempting to run pass security with a bag of make up in her hands. "From what we know she could have been carrying a full set of make-up-made explosives in her pink diamond bag" -Mentioned an officer. The body of the 7'5 Norwegian blue eyed blonde was not affected aesthetically and will be used as a dissected mannequin at a 5TH Ave shop in NY city (She was shot in the head). Yet another model was shot seconds afterwards even though she didn't show any resistance towards the new policies. "She was just dumb. She also had the highest pitched voice I've ever heard. I just thought 'whatta heck'" -Declared the officer, not the same one who shot the Norwegian monster.

Filthy smells and monstrous looks from unboarding passengers denounced by waiting relatives and taxi drivers.

People waiting for arrivals at the airport have complained of the unhygienical conditions their friends and relatives are showing up in after unboarding transatlantic flights. Some taxi drivers have refused to pick up clients arriving from London. Cabeza de Re was there to find out what people were saying. The stories within the stories.

"I send my son to London and he comes back from the Sahara. After not seeing him the whole summer the first thing he tells me is "water! water!".

"We came to pick up grandma. My 4 year old son saw her and burst into tears yelling 'Frankenstein!! Don't kill me Frankenstein!!'. She is not very good looking without make up".

"I am not taking any clients arriving from transatlantic flights. They smell worse than the two homeless I took for an undestined ride" -Taxidriver Abu.

"This French guy I met online came to visit me. I instantly sent him back due to his poisonous smell. I still don't think it is related to the new security policies though. We all know French don't use deodorant, but man I didn't think it was this bad. I'm staying with my American white trash". -Teenage slot Kelly

"My husband came back from a business trip overseas. I puked on him after kissing him. The 17 year old marriage is over and all because of prohibiting toothpaste on board".

"After I saw how my daughter came back from her eurotrip transformed into a hippie, I took her straight to rehab. Then I learned about the no-spray policies and realized her trash looking hair was not by choice. That same night I found her inhaling cocaine in her room and took her back to the facility." -American Dad

R.E. News: R.E's War ON Mosquitoes..

2006-08-08T13:59:00.000-04:00

The ongoing battle between R.E. and the summer mosquitoes keeps on going.
It's been a few days of fierce battling and astonishing destruction since R.E. embarked on a full-time mission to dismantle and expel the army of mosquitoes in his NY apt.

The mosquitoes started provoking R.E. a couple of weeks ago, increasing their hostilities till it became 'absolutely intolerable' according to Cabeza de Re representatives. There has been no declaration by the mosquitoes on the issue whatsoever.

"They started their activities without any provocation. It is unjustifiable that they keep attacking me like this, I am acting on self defense.." -Said R.E. "I'm a a natural nature lover. There is a little spot where some ants like to hang out during the day and I don't have a problem with that. There is a restriction on the number of flies per day aloud to visit the living room. But mosquitoes started appearing in my room illegally and they launched a full-scale offense on my body. I can't sit and let them drink my blood and hijack my sleep." Dogs and cats are among living creatures who have a somehow restricted access to Cabeza de Re facilities, aloud only if supervised by humans. Pigs are welcomed only if disguised as turkey bacon. The few fortunate to have free access include penguins, sharks and Mexicans. Mice are absolutely prohibited and face extermination if crossing the border. But there is relative calm with them, since they haven't dared to sneak into R.E.'s territory for more than a year.

The mosquito crisis is expected to get worse before it gets better.
"There is no one to talk to and I have no choice but defending myself myself". -Mentioned the dude with the hat. There are rumors that say there has been an effort to bring the flies to the table so they can act as mediators and try to bring both parts together for a cease of hostilities. But reports have reported that the flies have not been capable of staying on the table for more than 10 seconds straight "They keep leaving the table and coming back.. It is very disrespectful and they don't seem to be listening to what we are saying". Experts say that the flies behavior is only natural, "after all" they said, "they are insects and don't understand human language".

The mosquitoes have greatly intensified their attacks in the last several days. Cabeza de Re representatives have mentioned that R.E. has suffered big blows that are leading him to a mental collapse. "They know what they are doing. They know where to press my nerves. They have pinched me in several strategic places and they are slowly driving me insane. But this is the only body I have and I won't leave it for them to eat it alive."
Strategic places where mosquitoes have attacked include between fingers, between toes, on forehead and on ass. The latter affecting public opinion. R.E. has been seen in public scratching inappropriate places. He also has a visible mosquito bite on his forehead that has caused him a couple of dates.

Yesterday R.E's face suffered a major blow when so much scratching almost completely erased it and left him disfigured for the day.

R.E.'s strategy to fight the war has been so far somewhat ineffective. It involves banging insects with a Time Out NY magazine from last week. But mosquitoes have proven to be efficiently evasive and there has been more infrastructure destruction than actual mosquito casualties. R.E's enemies move fast and are hard to detect. Their strategy consists of annoying R.E. and then fly away to hide among tactical points where they wait for R.E. to strike with a magazine or a shoe. Such tactical points include the desk, between cologne bottles, CD's, books, on the bed, walls and floor. R.E.'s strikes have produced major destruction in his room, which is what the mosquitoes are hoping to achieve. Next door neighbors have criticized R.E. for the noise and instability his attacks have brought to the region and are working hard to bring his offensive to stop.

This is the site of the floor after a magazine strike targeting a mosquito hit a CD rack, which was absolutely turned into pieces. It is unclear how many mosquitoes where killed or if there are any trapped under the destruction. There have also been reports on mosquitoes picking on R.E. and instantly flying towards the computer area, attempting to provoke an attack with similar consequences on R.E.'s one of two babies (Mac and drums). Experts have shown deep concerns for such possibility, knowing that a blow to R.E.'s computer would mean the end of not just the war but of civilization as we know it.

The options of using chemical weapons is not at all out of consideration. The closure of mosquito fences is not either. But both of this strategies are feared to cause a lot of collateral damage. Particularly the use of chemical weapons, which could have a major number of innocent casualties. There is particular worry in how the roommate would respond to such radical actions. According to resources, R.E.'s roommate tends to come in through the window, and most notably he is expected to wake up any day "transformed into a monstrous insect", most likely a cockroach. Such metamorphosis could cost him his life if chemical weapons are used.

A site of destruction after a shoe missile was thrown at a mosquito spotted around the area. R.E has been deeply criticized for such attacks, since they are outside the battle ground. This particular shoe fell outside the kitchen's window. R.E. said that it is a window that a lot of mosquitoes use to get into the apt and find their way to the bedroom.

More pictures from the conflict are posted below. Due to the explicit violence some of this pictures show, it is not recommended for kids under 18 to see them without adult supervision.

R.E. on a mission

A Victim

Going Insane

A guitar hit by a magazine strike ended up with an irreparable crack in the middle.

More destruction

Half of R.E's belongings have moved north of the room to avoid being demolished. They still look pretty demolished anyways.

IMPORTANT NOTE: This is a conflict of its own. Any resemblance to other similar conflicts or wars is mere coincidence.. Or a product of your imagination