Apuntes multilingües y narraciones librescas de días volátiles,
cuyo soundtrack incluye un playlist para la certeza viajes con destino incierto
It's Oh So British!
...well, if you're into downloading indy albums this blog might be of your concern -by the way, I watched this shite there.
They include a meme in every download, which estates:
"Envía éste disco* a más de 5 personas en las próximas 3 semanas. Si no lo haces serás eternamente acosado por el gordito semidesnudo bailando el baile del Hamster"
I have mixed feelings about internet music downloads myself -and it has to do with more than audio quality-, but if you don't have enough money or/and this album is really hard to find in your country/city/location it shouldn't be as mean as arseholes such as Lars Ulrich have been claiming since the arrival of Napster eleven years ago. However, those who can afford it should support bands attending their gigs at least.
*Sticking Fingers into Sockets EP by Los Campesinos!, the greatest indie band since Belle & Sebastian, & the most impressive Welsh band since The Super Furry Animals... at least according to me. Hope you like it.
They include a meme in every download, which estates:
"Envía éste disco* a más de 5 personas en las próximas 3 semanas. Si no lo haces serás eternamente acosado por el gordito semidesnudo bailando el baile del Hamster"
I have mixed feelings about internet music downloads myself -and it has to do with more than audio quality-, but if you don't have enough money or/and this album is really hard to find in your country/city/location it shouldn't be as mean as arseholes such as Lars Ulrich have been claiming since the arrival of Napster eleven years ago. However, those who can afford it should support bands attending their gigs at least.
*Sticking Fingers into Sockets EP by Los Campesinos!, the greatest indie band since Belle & Sebastian, & the most impressive Welsh band since The Super Furry Animals... at least according to me. Hope you like it.
Autobiography: 11 Years on a Blankpage
Eleven years ago I was a blankpage like untrodden snow.
***
Eleven years ago I was excited about the release of three new rock albums
Eleven years ago I played an old acoustic guitar all morning long
Eleven years ago I was already bore with the USA & immigration issues
Eleven years ago I fancied living in a kingdom with a rock’n’roller Prime Minister
Eleven years ago I got fooled by Britpop & Cool Britannia —d’you know what I mean?
Eleven years ago I was slightly appalled by rumors of worldwide unemployment
Eleven years ago I wrote a song a day —sometimes about my fear of the dirty jobs
Eleven years ago I read Göethe in Spanish mistranslations
Eleven years ago I kissed a girl & felt a burning fire going down my spine
Eleven years ago I smoke a cigarette for the first time
Eleven years ago I skipped school once & became a flâneur without realizing it
***
Ten years ago I watched sunrise every morning from an orange train window
Ten years ago I believed in God
Ten years ago I was sure my soul was a mystical machinegun
Ten years ago I thought democracy was for real & God-deviced
Ten years ago I felt alienated as I realized that Catholicism is not something alien here
Ten years ago I was disappointed as grunge went out of touch & MTV went too teen-pop
Ten years ago I became geeky-but-cool for the first time
Ten years ago I got high & met Major Tom in his tin can floating above the world
Ten years ago my political awareness was a joke
Ten years ago I read Borges & wrote a poem instead of a song
***
Nine years ago I was too indie when everybody was too ska
Nine years ago I hanged around with the freaks & ghouls
Nine years ago I used to buy the NME with a weekly overseas delay
Nine years ago I heard tunes that chilled my bones & put a flame between my ears
Nine years ago I spent a season like hell at artificial paradises
Nine years ago I kissed a girl holding a Bible against her breast
Nine years ago I pushed the Bible away & went to an illegal rave
Nine years ago I told my mother I left an important part of my brain somewhere in a field
Nine years ago radio waves & internet wires gave me choice so I was a God in my world
***
Eight years ago I was sixteen clumsy & shy
Eight years ago the end of a century was nothing special so I sang along
Eight years ago I went to a gig & got mad for it
Eight years ago I told a girl it looked like we might had made it too the end
Eight years ago presidential elections & fingered V’s made me afraid of the papist right-wind
Eight years ago I got drunk one day & next morning the PRI was dead
Eight years ago I started a foolish brawl out of a foolish argument on Nietzsche & Schopenhauer
Eight years ago I left school & my mother found my weed-baggie & I was doomed
***
Seven years ago I was driftwood breaking into pieces
Seven years ago I lost all my friends & couldn’t get out of bed
Seven years ago I became an idle reader as my easy life was crumbling down
Seven years ago the morning bell was a handful of plane-crashes in the American summer sky
Seven years ago I needed an Orwellian experience serving standardized burgers
Seven years ago I told myself I don’t need to be forgiven
Seven years ago I found the right key to play the songs that saved my life
***
Six years ago I tasted the salty bread of foreignness without crossing any borderline at all
Six years ago I dragged my spleen uphill once again in a Sisyphean fashion
Six years ago I read atheist books in front of a priest
Six years ago I played guitar at the schoolgates to shake my angst
Six years ago I was already waving words born of frustration
Six years ago I was the albatross with giant wings but unable to fly
***
Five years ago I faced the mirror & refused to drawn
Five years ago I was just 19 with six months off to save my life or six months off to die
Five years ago I took an unforgettable walk through certain half-deserted streets
Five years ago I gave a lecture on rock & kissed a Japgirl on the same evening
Five years ago I found advice in solitude & silence
***
Eleven years ago I was excited about the release of three new rock albums
Eleven years ago I played an old acoustic guitar all morning long
Eleven years ago I was already bore with the USA & immigration issues
Eleven years ago I fancied living in a kingdom with a rock’n’roller Prime Minister
Eleven years ago I got fooled by Britpop & Cool Britannia —d’you know what I mean?
Eleven years ago I was slightly appalled by rumors of worldwide unemployment
Eleven years ago I wrote a song a day —sometimes about my fear of the dirty jobs
Eleven years ago I read Göethe in Spanish mistranslations
Eleven years ago I kissed a girl & felt a burning fire going down my spine
Eleven years ago I smoke a cigarette for the first time
Eleven years ago I skipped school once & became a flâneur without realizing it
***
Ten years ago I watched sunrise every morning from an orange train window
Ten years ago I believed in God
Ten years ago I was sure my soul was a mystical machinegun
Ten years ago I thought democracy was for real & God-deviced
Ten years ago I felt alienated as I realized that Catholicism is not something alien here
Ten years ago I was disappointed as grunge went out of touch & MTV went too teen-pop
Ten years ago I became geeky-but-cool for the first time
Ten years ago I got high & met Major Tom in his tin can floating above the world
Ten years ago my political awareness was a joke
Ten years ago I read Borges & wrote a poem instead of a song
***
Nine years ago I was too indie when everybody was too ska
Nine years ago I hanged around with the freaks & ghouls
Nine years ago I used to buy the NME with a weekly overseas delay
Nine years ago I heard tunes that chilled my bones & put a flame between my ears
Nine years ago I spent a season like hell at artificial paradises
Nine years ago I kissed a girl holding a Bible against her breast
Nine years ago I pushed the Bible away & went to an illegal rave
Nine years ago I told my mother I left an important part of my brain somewhere in a field
Nine years ago radio waves & internet wires gave me choice so I was a God in my world
***
Eight years ago I was sixteen clumsy & shy
Eight years ago the end of a century was nothing special so I sang along
Eight years ago I went to a gig & got mad for it
Eight years ago I told a girl it looked like we might had made it too the end
Eight years ago presidential elections & fingered V’s made me afraid of the papist right-wind
Eight years ago I got drunk one day & next morning the PRI was dead
Eight years ago I started a foolish brawl out of a foolish argument on Nietzsche & Schopenhauer
Eight years ago I left school & my mother found my weed-baggie & I was doomed
***
Seven years ago I was driftwood breaking into pieces
Seven years ago I lost all my friends & couldn’t get out of bed
Seven years ago I became an idle reader as my easy life was crumbling down
Seven years ago the morning bell was a handful of plane-crashes in the American summer sky
Seven years ago I needed an Orwellian experience serving standardized burgers
Seven years ago I told myself I don’t need to be forgiven
Seven years ago I found the right key to play the songs that saved my life
***
Six years ago I tasted the salty bread of foreignness without crossing any borderline at all
Six years ago I dragged my spleen uphill once again in a Sisyphean fashion
Six years ago I read atheist books in front of a priest
Six years ago I played guitar at the schoolgates to shake my angst
Six years ago I was already waving words born of frustration
Six years ago I was the albatross with giant wings but unable to fly
***
Five years ago I faced the mirror & refused to drawn
Five years ago I was just 19 with six months off to save my life or six months off to die
Five years ago I took an unforgettable walk through certain half-deserted streets
Five years ago I gave a lecture on rock & kissed a Japgirl on the same evening
Five years ago I found advice in solitude & silence
***
Four years ago I crossed thresholds & tests of passage
Four years ago I had power over each breath & heartbeat & each clock-ticking in my life
Four years ago I rejected a living made of lies & language destruction
Four years ago I could look back out of anger
***
Three years ago I deceived myself in sex-lust & mind-lust
Three years ago I had friends that now are strangers
Three years ago I was guilt for dreaming
***
Two years ago I sold the ink-soul of my pen & dried up my heart
Two years ago I heard two calls —one to stop believing in votes & another to keep believing in words
***
One year ago I was trying to figure out the puzzle that’s my life now & tried to burn away the immediate past
***
I’m not a blankpage anymore
I’m a skin splattered with scabs & stories carved all along each blot of drying blood
There’s nothing to erase but just too much of my tale to tell
________________________________________________
This poem was written within 6 hours time —without stopping to write unless extremely necessary.
Four years ago I had power over each breath & heartbeat & each clock-ticking in my life
Four years ago I rejected a living made of lies & language destruction
Four years ago I could look back out of anger
***
Three years ago I deceived myself in sex-lust & mind-lust
Three years ago I had friends that now are strangers
Three years ago I was guilt for dreaming
***
Two years ago I sold the ink-soul of my pen & dried up my heart
Two years ago I heard two calls —one to stop believing in votes & another to keep believing in words
***
One year ago I was trying to figure out the puzzle that’s my life now & tried to burn away the immediate past
***
I’m not a blankpage anymore
I’m a skin splattered with scabs & stories carved all along each blot of drying blood
There’s nothing to erase but just too much of my tale to tell
________________________________________________
This poem was written within 6 hours time —without stopping to write unless extremely necessary.
I don't know if it is related at all, but I think watching this video could fit the mood once you have read the above poem.
The Verve- History
[the song borrows a lot of Blake's "London"
but as I may have borrow a lot from both
[the song borrows a lot of Blake's "London"
but as I may have borrow a lot from both
The Verve & Blake at some point
—not necessarily here—
I guess it shouldn't cause any fuss at all]
I've got to tell you my tale
Of how I loved and how I failed
I hope you understand
These feelings should not be in the man...
Of how I loved and how I failed
I hope you understand
These feelings should not be in the man...
.jpg)
