HUMOR
Incompleteness
Absurd
Risk
Irony
Dirty
Mal
Raro
Perdón
Death
Hatred
Danger
Failure
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"El Mal es un mal necesario" Zury Asse 2004
"El Mal es un Bien visto desde otro lado" Zury Asse 2007

Don't fix it, fix yourself.

("Si tienes pies delicados, no trates de alfombrar el mundo, comprate unas zapatillas" - dicho de quien sabe donde)
 

Incompleteness Theorem

I am the devil

i want to corrupt you

i don't work

i don't sacrifice

i don't naturally healthy

i may like more than one woman

i recommend pleasure and easy

my first commandment is "Be Free"

I'm beginning to be exactly whatever i am (whateverist)

ni siquiera sé si no sé nada

centro de estudios cannabicos

amo a MaFluox

(la fluoxetina te da el: 'todo esta bien' y la maría te da el...

<input box>

exitement-meaning

me engaño a mi mismo de q soy feliz, y lo consigo.

A little Trick 

(2000, new york)

Why would a boy develop such a bond with her grandmother? I don’t know. To me it just seemed so natural at the time, I even remember wondering how come the rest of my brothers and cousins wouldn’t want to be with her as much as possible, as I certainly did.
Every Wednesday, I would stay with her for some four, five hours; just talking, laughing, cleaning, cooking. According to her I was the ‘fastest vacuum cleaner in the county’ (“In the country?” I would try, “Oh no, not yet my little fellow”) and the meatballs I kneaded were ‘the proof that spheres can be triangular.’
But the highlight of the day I’d say, was our lunch ritual. We would be seating on the breakfast nook, adjacent to the kitchen, and I would announce that I’m feeling very tired, yawn once or twice perhaps, and then pretend to fall asleep on my chair for about forty minutes, during which she would cook our lunch and serve it nicely on the table. Then she would wake me up, and I would say “Oh, I most have fallen asleep, how long did I slept for?” and she’d answer, “Oh only for five minutes” and then I’d say “Five minutes! And you cooked all this in just 5 minutes?” and she, raising her arms forward like a flying Superman “Well, what did you expect? I’m SuperGrandma you know” and we would both burst laughing and then stay cheery for the whole meal, which was not scant of affable phrases like “This is delicious SuperGrandma!” and “Eat some more of this SuperGrandson”.

One Wednesday, I decided to play a little trick on her. We were at the table ready to begin our ‘lunch ritual’ and I simply didn’t fall asleep as I was supposed to, I just kept quietly looking at her. Sure enough she started to get nervous, she stood still, half smiling, looking at me with pleading eyes that asked “Well, come-on, you know what comes now, why aren’t you doing it?” But I was unwavering, I just looked back at her with impassive eyes, and when she asked, “Aren’t you tired today sweetheart?” I said, “No Granee, I feel quite lively actually” and then lethally “Besides, I been dying to see SuperGrandma in action, fixing a great lunch in just five minutes.” She looked at me in disbelief, probing far and wide for a hint of irony or complicity in my expression, but I kept very serious and then walked towards the kitchen.
She started to cook our lunch. At the beginning she even dithered with moving very fast, perhaps deeming that with some luck she could actually be SuperGrandma and cook the lunch in five minutes. Or maybe she thought that was what I wanted her to do, to merely act like SuperGrandma.
I don’t think she ever stumbled so much while cooking, she soaked the rice instead of the salad, and then she hit her head with a shelf. After ten minutes I said “Well, I’m not seeing much of SuperGrandma today” She didn’t say a word, she continued cooking, more slowly now, and looked at me with grief in her eyes, as saying “How could betray me like this, and why” At that point I started to really regret having done the whole trick, but it was too late to just laugh it off and get back to normal, the cord that united us had been broken and we didn’t know how to communicate, how to act, without it. I went back to the table and waited for her to serve the meal. We ate in a tense, distressing silence. I would normally stay there long after lunch, but that time I excused myself saying I had a lot of work that day and had to leave right away. I think she actually felt relived hearing that, and walked me to the door. “Hey I’ll see you next Wednesday Granee” I said in a last effort to recover our usual confident tone “Yeah, yeah, sure sweetheart” she said, then she smiled and slowly shut the door close.
That was the last time I saw her, I didn’t have the courage to visit her again. What would I tell her? What would we talk about at lunchtime? I was the only grandson who did not attend her funeral eight months later.

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