foucault + heath ledger

Things that were said in the past couple of days:
"Hey, are you okay? I heard that you punched yourself several times in the face last night."
"Your ass is distracting me from my drinking."
"If we move in together, we just must buy those fake sumo wrestling suits."
"She looks like a neo-nazi with poor fashion sense."
"I am never drinking again."

The last one is the funniest. 

This is a pretty accurate description of what I looked like on Friday.

OK, so, I have been writing a bit more, mostly stuff not suitable for the internet. (Well, yes, suitable, but not necessarily good for anyone’s mental health). For the past FOREVER I have been reading about auteur-structuralism and it’s all sorts of confusing/wrong/fascinating. I want to shoot Foucault in the face… who needs such big words? ME. THINKS. NAMES. ARE. WRONG. See? Easy! 

I mean, really, Foucault? This is your face?

But the business about the writing, I need an editor! Someone who’s like Ezra Pound par rapport to TS Eliot (an anagram of Toilets LOL). Slash my shit in half and tell me I’m worthless. I deserve that, at least!

This week has been a real change for me: I started drinking coffee and stopped drinking alcohol (with the notable exception of Friday night, of which events shall never be spoken of again). I have been, as we say in Uruguay, con un cuete metido en el culo. My therapist says that caffeine is probably not good and might exacerbate my mood swings but OMG WHAT DOES HE KNOW. I even bought a coffee mug. A whole new exciting world. 

Annnyway, like Foucault is obviously right about, I have nothing new or original to say, so I am going to go to bed. And dream. I have been having the best fucking dreams lately. Last night only, I dreamed that:

1. I was Mina Harker from Dracula and I made out with Dracula who happened to be Heath Ledger. 

I literally ask "god" why oh why several times a day.

2. I was filming an acoustic set of Radiohead which included back-up vocals of myself (multitasking), Elly Jackson from La Roux (we obviously made out in this dream too), and Heather Morris from Glee. Thom was like my best friend. 

3. I talked to my sister on the phone and she said that when I turn 28 I must begin an annual check-up for some obscure disease that my father apparently had. The cost of these tests would be of 5000 pesos. She asked me what I was doing with my life (“It’s been sooooo long”, she said distractedly). I, in a small voice, said that I was finishing my BA. She didn’t seem to care that much and the call dropped (BTW, fuck AT&T).
That was the saddest dream because it’s the one that could be closest to the truth.

Also you guys, did you LISTEN to Radiohead’s new album? I need to listen to it a couple of hundred more times to really have an opinion (“they have like, sooo many layers”), but my fave fave song so far is Morning Mr Magpie. And also, Give up the Ghost.

Ok, now, really bed.

They tell me stories,
beaches glimmering with
old bathroom tiles,
a Portuguese ship once forgot.
Your grandmother's death,
The bathroom tiles.
Your grandmother's death,
the bathroom tiles’ forgotten little specks.

Rapid limbs with no owner,
another night in front of the mirror.
The boy, a man, made you take your clothes off
because he took you for a ride on his bike,
his expensive bike
laughing in the faces of the cops
who probably live in the banlieus anyway.
You will wash your face.
You will brush your teeth.
Better now?
Do you know how to get home?
Will you walk into the Atlantic,
to try to find more broken tiles?
Your vomit in spiraling swirls  
in a perfect mix of pristine safe water
and your grandmother’s ashes.



that poem stuck in my head

I have had this song stuck on my head all day. And now it's your turn!

It was 12 degrees Celsius today. I was walking around in a t-shirt and a sweatshirt. I know for my Uruguayan counterparts, this may seem a bit extreme, but believe me, it's like fucking summer up in this bitch. Going from -12 to 12 is a big deal.

via jono winnel

Today I had a poetry class, and, while I find the class kind of boring and my professor a rambling old man, I really enjoy translating poetry. Today, we translated a poem, Maçã, by Manuel Bandeira. It goes like this:

Por um lado te vejo como um seio murcho
por outro como um ventre de cujo umbigo pende ainda o cord
ão placentário

És vermelha como o amor divino

Dentro de ti em peqenas pevides
Palpita a vida prodigiosa

E quedas t
ão simples
Ao lado de um talher
Num quarto pobre de hotel.

via coquelicot, asleep in the poppies
 And my translation is such:

Sometimes I see you like a wilted breast,
Others like a womb whose navel hangs from the umbilical chord

She’s crimson like love divine

Inside of you in small seeds
Palpitates a prodigious life

And you stand so simple
Next to utensils
In a vile and unkind hotel room.

I obviously changed some words, and some grammatical structures are not the same. For me, I immediately thought this poem was about abortion, which my professor was quick to point out that I was damn wrong. WTV, I still think it. It's kind of obvious, no?

"Murcho", I got wrong. I thought it meant 'singed', but it means rotten. For "pobre" I had to choose another word other than "poor" because that sounds idiotic. "Cheap" could be okay, but that word only captures the dingy, not the evil. Right? Right.

I also don't think prodigious is a pompous word.

Grr, homework.


king of limbs

Pre-order the new Radiohead album, King of Limbs, here.

It will be available for download this Friday Saturday.

Expect collapse of servers.

Expect happy hipsters, looking as tortured as ever.

Expect me to not go out of my room. Housemates will be angry. I shall not care.


scariest vampire

I am taking a course on vampires in literature and film. It is pretty much the best course I have ever taken in my college career, cause, duh vampires! We have seen True Blood, Dracula (what the fuck happened to Copppola in the 90s?), and others. We will see The hunger, The lost boys, and Buffy. 

I don't remember Sarah Michelle Buffy having ANY tits

But! This is not about Buffy (yeahok), it's about this question one of my professors made in class yesterday about who we think is the scariest vamp. Obviously, in our day and age, our notions of vampires are varied. We have Dracula, the orig, but we also have Edward

Fuck you, Stephanie Meyer... just fuck you

Different vampires in different books/movies/TV series have different rules. Some vamps can walk in daylight, some can't. Some of them look like little glowing girls, others don't. Each 'new' vampire must denounce or embrace the rules that we already know for vampires, but they are always working from pre-conceived ideas of what vampires mean/are. 

THIS is what a bela looks like

In light of this (and, hey, look, back to Buffy), in my opinion, the scariest vampire I know is ANGELUS. Buffy tells us that the lack of soul situash is what makes him so evil once he gets a happy. But I think it's because he's a dick.

His psychological torment of Buffy is extreme, and that is, what I think, the scariest quality of the vampire: the lack of conscience paired with the desire to fuck shit up. The asshole psycopath, if you will, the desire to not only kill, but make it hurt. 

Just like some people's exes.

What do you think?


the most boring weekend: inspiration for the longest post

Let me tell YOU about my weekend:  

Friday: nap and then drunk. I was mean to people I care about, and did stupid shit. And then I came home and did mean things to myself. No need to get into it, but, I apologize to my friends and to myself. (If you didn't hang out with me during the weekend, you're in luck).

I don't know who took this one. Not me.

Saturday: I read what seemed to be all the pages of all the articles and books ever written, but still didn't finish my reading for this week. It's okay, I will just do what every college student does when she hasn't done all of her readings: bullshit your way through seminar, sleep during lecture. Saturday, as well, I watched two movies by Ken Russell.

The man looks like this.
Now, If you don't know Ken Russell, please go to his imdb page and check out the ratings on his movies: absolute crap. Yet, these were required for my vampire class, so I had to do it. A little sample (which leaves out all the weird nakedness and phalli everywhere. There is a dream sequence where the Virgin Mary gets raped.)

Yeah, I watched two of those: Gothic and The Lair of the White Worm (what.the.fuck). Hugh Grant is officially now a crappy actor.
After, I got a bit sentimental after reading 200 pages of Dracula. I felt inadequate, like I should have been born to a high-society family in Victorian England. Imagine! I would have wrecked their shit up. You know, in style, à la Oscar Wilde. Without the dying alone and penniless in exile.

fucking gangsta

Sunday: I cleaned my room. I actually got down on my knees and vacuumed between the wood floor boards. I grabbed my FABULOSO, and, true to its name, it fabulously cleaned the beer gunk on my floor (after much scrubbing). I felt so proletariat. But then I decided that was probably not PC, so I stopped.

This was literally me. Also, go check out hyperbole and a half
I also watched Buffy with jwife too, and got all scared/excited at the uber-vamp of season 7. We both have blue balls about Spuffy not getting it on (anymore).

Please Joss, pleeeeease!

After, more homework about something something something in communist film theory, about motion, about the "endless" and "sublime" quality of film. Needless to say, after many underlinings of every paragraph, I don't know what the fuck I read about.

While watching the Grammys I wanted to throw something at the TV,  preferably something pointy. Lady Antebellum can suck my dildo. BUT! La Roux (my girlfriend) got Best Dance Record! Which she totally deserves, that album is a conceptual masterpiece, go fuck yourself if you don't like it.


That's... it? Pretty much the most boring weekend ever, but I was hella productive, the most I have been in weeks upon months.

Happy Valentine's Day! If you care about this crap. (I made a card for jwife that says, quite wittily: "You make my... nipples all pointy!!!" With a picture of boobs)

Edit: Jesus, I just re-read this and I had so freaking many spelling mistakes! Oops.


poems about russians

you guys i still have yesterday's make up all over my face. as promised, i drank wine (and other, clearer, forms of alcohol). i am now at work, trying to read a story about vampires (i seriously will be talking about this until graduation) and failing completely.

sad truth: when you google image search "vampire" the suggestion is "twilight"

 but heeeeeey, good news! uruguay is going to the olimpics! for football, which is the only thing we give any shits about. i mean, it's the only time i am actually patriotic. last world cup was ridiculous. les rompemos a todos el culo.

he literally flies
 y sin hacer un big deal de esto, pero el ruso perez es dueño de mi corazón.

en fin, today in potery, we talked about how different poets are relevant at different times. lorca was very important to the beats and the hippies, but now not so much. i believe it's because lorca is a poets who deals with big issues, the desperation of the masses, injustice and whatnot.

via tiquetonne2067

maybe now we are more concerned with the lack of personal connections. we are a big mass of anonymous people. so, poets who are relevant now are poets who deal with the tiny, nitty-gritty stuff of the self, trying to communicate with another self. which rarely happens IRL. what do you think? i mean, all my favorite poems are love poems, because i think that's so rare today.

via lina scheynius

maybe it's just me.


best cover ever

garbage - thirteen

(originally by big star)

hungry at night

dressed all in black, with pearls in my pocket,
 my boots are the freezing peel of a tree.
my door is ajar, why won't you close it?
can i have some water?
i'm hungry at night.
can i drain you 
of your knowledge of photography and science?
bitter cod, my necklace
reminds me of what you taste like:
cheap vodka and jasmin.

is anyone knocking?

hallo again!

you guys a new blog! i know you missed me.
anyway, i would like to talk about what i will do tonight: drink lotsa wine and watch buffy. me and Jwife have been watching all of buffy since classes began in september. we are now at episode 7, season 7.

reason to watch buffy número uno
i swear to (?), i would go straight for spike any day of the week. not the actor, for some reason, who by the way just got married. MOVING ON!
after finding out today that i will probably get kicked out of the states the day after i graduate, i decided to drink wine, oh so much wine!
what i have in mind (via ohfishal)
turns out that all my years living and studying here count for almost-shit. i could get a job in my field of studies and stay for a year, but who are we kidding? ain't gonna happen.

don't kick me out please (via penzerparty)

someone marry me.