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INDIO GRIS
FUSIONED - DIRECTED - WRITTEN AND CORRESPONDED BY: MENASSA 2001 WE
DON'T KNOW HOW TO SPEAK BUT WE DO IT IN SEVERAL LANGUAGES
INDIO
GRIS, IS A PRODUCT INDIO GRIS Nº 64 YEAR II EDITORIAL I
fight all parties holding power; including those who hold power in Cero Group. THE
SNOW TOUCHED MY BACK The
snow touched my back, The
snow touched my heart. The
sun is setting and from the day, We
carefully spell, each one our name: I
am the Snow White of your dreams. I
wanted to tell her: Darling, I
am going towards our second encounter. I hope that my anxiety to get
together doesn't spoil everything. I
desire the catastrophes, the great hurricanes, the deep silences of the
earth, the sea pouring over in infinite falls. Your
body reminds me of these supernatural events. That is to say, natural but
evil. A
tremor, a sound, are the earth but not you. I
don't have a body to give you. Initials of a living body, signals of a
body that melted among disagreements. That-No, I have to give you, and I
know that it is not convenient for you. A
frenzy encourages the sound of your voice. Fevers of being invade you
constantly. The
negation of death makes it possible for any foolishness to transform the
hole of Not being into the plenitude of being nothing. I
admit not having sent Season's greetings to anyone yet.
1 The
Ego considers the cure as a new danger, because it is not him who cures but the
Other. That's
why an analyst must not expect the patient to have a great conviction on the
curative power of analysis. 2 To
say terminable analysis for a psychoanalyst is a bad translation, because it is
about analysis when it finishes to place itself in a sort of infinite reach,
revealing what, in the end, is irreducible for man and
women in the castration complex. Desire
then, that is not a desire of any object, but the desire for that lack which in
the Other designates another desire. 3 -
Look doctor, I gave him a punch (he spoke with controlled fury) and I
caught him off-balance and he hit the sterilisation glass cabinet and broke
everything. His face showed surprise because a crystal had stabbed him in his
back as if it were a dagger and another piece of glass had cut him on his
forehead. I
got excited with the smell of blood and seeing that the guy stood up swaying I
gave him a punch with such bad luck for the guy that he was sent flying and his
head bumped against the electric scalpel, which started functioning and the poor
guy received an electric shock that produced him a fissure of the trochanter and
total fracture of both parietals. I
let some minutes of silence go by and trying to pull myself up I asked him: -
And after doing all this to me, whom are you going to psychoanalyse
yourself with?
I
let two more minutes pass and told him: -
We continue the next time. He,
when he shook hands with me to say good-bye, smiled openly.
-
She is a wind that devastates my memory. A
small grimace, at mid-afternoon, had me without writing till midnight,
worried that my love might be worthless. Never
before have I fucked a woman so much and so frequently, and she, still
tells me that I'm a liar when I tell her that I love her. Perhaps,
tomorrow, to satisfy her I'll fuck her with a hot piece of iron and leave
her nailed to the wall, but tomorrow she will come happily as if someone
had told her that he loved her, and when she arrives she smiles at me and
when I kiss her slightly she presses her legs together and puts on a mad
face, and I start to kiss her all over, and she moves restlessly and wants
to tell me something, and I kiss her insistently and she waves her hands
between my legs, and I let her do whatever she likes, because she's
beautiful and her hands fly around my body and her mouth flies around my
body. I
stay quiet as if defeated and she howls, and she literally throws herself
on top of me and jumps over me the same way I jumped over her when we met
and when I introduce my dick, when with my dick I caress her womb from the
inside, she, enamoured little whore, screams and calls me with the names
of all her beloved men. Afterwards,
a little more tranquil, she goes about my body in a placid manner. She
goes over all of my muscles one by one. She looks for the insertions. She
asks herself what each of my muscles are for. -
This one must be for breathing - and she touches my Major Serratus. Later
when she asks about my Sartorious, she laughs her head off because she has
to pass her finger very close to my dick to indicate the upper insertions. She
looks at me with tenderness and signals with her head to let me know
without speaking that she wants me to turn round. I pretend not to
understand, because although I enjoy with everything that comes from her,
I truly enjoy
when apart from doing , she says "things" to me. I
remain quiet knowing this time she will try to turn me round by any means,
without asking me again. First
she tries to do it by force, and of course I feel as if I were a young
Canadian karate woman defending her virginity. She,
without feeling defeated, holds back and starts playing with my penis
(that means my dick, but still soft) and she slowly starts opening my legs
and licks my balls with controlled voluptuousness, making me feel a
tremendous pleasure and the fantasy, almost corporeal, that she is sucking
another woman's pussy. My
dick takes an enormous proportion. She,
taking advantage of my position, sits on top of me, looking at my feet,
she holds my dick with one of her hands and with the other opens her
vagina lips and while she says with a stammering and horny voice: -
Now, now - and she passes my dick around her vagina time and time
again without putting it in. I
can't have it bigger and harder and she tells me: -
Now, now, put it inside it. And
I hold her buttocks with strength and I put in my two thumbs together in
her ass and she jumps happily and says: -
Look, how it enjoys. And
she rolls about and laughs and dreams that we are in Rio's Carnival,
everybody naked, and she lets herself fall over me and my dick enters her
up to the neck and, she shouts and gets hotter and shouts more and gets
even hotter and puts her hands on her neck and in her orgasm, one as she
had never had before, tears her head apart and starts, so to say,
a new life. (to
be continued in the next issue)
1 Tonight
I have, like a poet, in my gaze: 2 I
want the power of having transformed you and not the dominion over the
effects of your transformation. -
Then you don't love me - she said, when she was leaving not to
return. 3 War
has no human victims though they may be counted by millions; what falls in
a war are books, written pages, thoughts. 4 No
mortal challenges destiny, but you, so adorable… 5 I
have to be able to silence all the voices, also the voices of my enamoured
women, shouting around that I can't do anything but make love. The
market and the war also form part of my intelligence. 6 Instead
of abandoning everything, I have to learn to let myself go in everything. He
who is not able, isn't able and that's all. Alphabets
which dance around me without being so. 7 The
modern hallucinated people, are people without a father and without a
mother, or with a father and mother who are a little stupid, religious,
imbecile, or absent. No
more family, which means, fundamentally, to educate children adequately. 8 Impetuous,
mad, lost, anything you want, but we must not allow any of us to starve,
though he might be
a lazy-bones, an imbecile, an alien. Fugitives
of any encounter Hours
go by while the world sleeps. Oh
life abandoned by vices! The
defeats that you have never had are treasured. There
must be the time of the one who accepts Solitude,
you came to visit me Some
days, I would prefer not to know the hide-out. Lucía
Serrano Madrid,
August 16th, 2001 He
who no longer can, THIS IS ADVERTISING
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