INDIVIDUAL MAGAZINE OF GARBAGE
Nº 18. YEAR 2000- SEPTEMBER, THURSDAY 28
FUSIONED - DIRECTED - WRITTEN AND CORRESPONDED BY: MENASSA 2000
WE DON'T KNOW HOW TO SPEAK BUT WE DO IT
IN SEVERAL LANGUAGES
SPANISH, FRENCH, ENGLISH, GERMAN, ARABIAN, PORTUGUESE, ITALIAN, CATALAN
INDIO GRIS, IS A PRODUCT
OF A FUSION
THE BRIGTHENESS OF THE GREY
THE JARAMA INDIAN
THE FUSION WITH MORE FUTURE OF THE
INDIO GRIS Nº 18
SEPTEMBER 18th, 2000: As many other times, today I', beginning a new life. I'll abandon everything except my previous notebooks where I have been embroidering, with extreme patience, the particulars of a foundation and that, precisely, cannot be abandoned.
I'm alert but that isn't enough. To produce something you have to work somewhat. And when I realize that I've reached a place, I also realize that something I must have done to be there.
After having writing four of my best poems I have the sensation that time for business has arrived, writing and things like that is all right for the young.
Each time I wanted to save myself, shouted the wretch, some of my jealous lovers led me through an eternal damnation path.
May, 1984: I arrived here hoisting failures and shocks. Now I'm not very willing to do anything. I do things when I have to, I'm getting used to what corresponds to me, but willingness, real willingness, I think sometimes I'm not even willing to move because of lack of willingness.
And I want to explain that I'm not feeling bad, I'm contented. I earn enough to eat and for my children to eat, to pay the installments of the car, the house and the furniture, I can publish some writings in some magazines and if I get some more money I could publish those psychoanalysis texts which I copied from others authors who worked harder than I. And this way 30 years could go by and the whole world would know where to find me. Sitting in my house, in front of the fire, in winter, with a piece of paper in my hand or sitting by the sun watching the little domestic flowers grow, in summer, and seeing my children grow up with the hope that they might do it better than I. And later, step by step, my children will have children and I'll grow old and some journalist will say that I would have been a great writer because I had to go to the supermarket.
I have to apologies for something, I'm very sad but any other person in my situation could be even less able.
I must be able to get away from me so I can get close to the chores I must accomplish.
Everything is pain, beloved, and I go through life without a set direction, but anyway I'll write to you, you'll see:
I'll tie your body to my words forever.
Homing dove, your voice will not sound but in my chords.
March 16th, 1985: Today I brought 10 oil paintings from the consulting room to my house. Today the real moving has started. In a month I'll be completely moved. I'm not either interested in being A POOR AND DESPERATE WRITER. the PROBLEM OF MONEY IS DEPLORABLE THOUGH NOT YET CATASTROPHIC. what WORRIES ME IS THE WAY I SHIT. a LITTLE restrained. As if there were something that wants to stay in me. There is something that I don't want to give away, something that I don't want to put into circulation. As if the fact of money should be secret and solitary. In reality, nowadays the only one who can stand and not very well that earn enough money to pay things and have some left over for gambling it's me.
Everything is possible when what moves is the world of wonder.
Earning several millions in one evening and having nothing to eat the next day.
Everything is possible when what sings is a singer.
Another week without hitting the big punt, another weekend in which I decide to return to work on Monday, once more. But there will be a Sunday, thanks God, in which I'll be able to say: Today everything is over, today a new life begins. And I'll call all my clients one by one and tell them that I'm taking a 15-day holiday and if someone asks me why I'm taking a 15-daay holiday when summer is still far ahead, I'll answer tranquilly that money shortens distances and makes what it wants of the climate. Afterwards I'll also go back to work though I may not need it. I owe something to the world.
Today I won 25,000 pesetas and I gave 5,000 to my son Antonio. He gets on very well with me being single. He will do very well in that enterprise. And if he starts his first business with the right foot, he will able to cope with others.
I don't know how to live, shouted the wretch, I have some pain in all circumstances. And this my darling, considering that the Somersault has not yet been preformed.
May 25th, 1985: Today, I've decided to invest in Spain and as I have no money I'll invest my life.
I must have some sort of stubbornness, shouted the wretch, and some time later he suffered from high blood pressure of unknown origin.
I don't come from other lands, I live in this city and I want a five stars old age, shouted the wretch.
Discovering, what you may call discovering, I've already discovered everything. Now it's time to accomplish something, to build some future.
To privatize a part of Culture, to make it ours.
February 26th, 1994: I'm never here, said the wretch, I was always someone else, I was always somewhere else.
To be able to be decide to break all delirium, all solitude.
I'm breaking all the barriers that lack of money imposed over me, now the only barrier is me.
He is the whole day thinking of his mother. His mother is the whole day thinking of her navel. They meet and separate themselves but nobody ever finds any difference.
She doesn't speak because she's ashamed of what she fancies. Getting married and having children with me (her mother), and of course things in her life are going very bad.
June 7th, 1984: I must be able to do the new things without consulting the old advisers.
All revolution has to give up something of itself in order to be accomplished as one. Having as policy not giving up anything, transforms the possible revolutionary event into a marginal or criminal one.
Hell was within me, she said when he arrived and he remained silent.
I come because I want to talk and then I remain silent or have visions. Before I used to see monsters or animals in the clouds, and now I see human faces kissing. I have my head full of filth.
-You can leave something here, I told her and as she remained silent, I invited her to continue next time.
January 17th, 1985: I'm beginning to see a future for me here in Spain.
Living in Arganda confuses me. No model is useful to understand what happens to me. I don't have fantasies about dying but yes about getting ill. Today my condition is less serious, I only want to get ill without dying.
January 18th, 1985: The invitations from the Count Duke for the presentation of READING FREUD N ZERO are ready.
After a long time I've won 60,000 pesetas through gambling. What a genius!
I must pay 160,000 pesetas which I don't have. How funny!
I also was a companion of life
I was a ditch torn to pieces,
I was that piece of bleeding
A kiss on the platform of the lost
I was a companion of the American
Companion, all tied together
Fighting companion, all together
Stories that erase the
I am from here, companion, here is
Companion of the water, I sow
Wizard of me, I tie the belt of
And I also say to have a companion
And I was the great companion of
Companion of the slender acrobat
Companion of the woman that
without a gaze,]
Companion of the working man,
Of the working woman and her
I was a companion of the letter
and the rock]
Companion of myself, I was
I was an idle companion of death,