half hour wait to get my mate to pick
has been lost in the hell that is the M-30 when you have bad sense of direction and does not co-pilot ...
ambassadors and I see people go ... Gait
expensive, abject bodies, looks lost and bags full of nothing ... the rest of the world, "normal" does not stroll by ambassadors at this time ...
dogs sniff here and there, always faithful unsteadily those who claim to be their masters ...
my partner finally arrives.
finally arrived at the garden and my sight is lost at infinity at the same time focuses on a ridge and scratches. weed killers. eludes spider bites ...
slurry sprayed with nettle
the mini-greenhouse irrigation
my arms feel heavy, rough after layer of clay that protects ...
lavapiés back asked me if I give a certificate of her husband in the INEM she was going to collect on their behalf with their identity card and authorization. no wonder why she goes. is he who is unemployed and does nothing all day ... but do not ask and I offer the tortilla spike at the end I have not eaten in the garden, knowing that when I get home I expect with the food cooked ... It now goes to work and did not have time to eat ... No cooking for her ... I meet
also a daughter of another Mary. has become pregnant again. in that house do nothing but keep dogs and children ... not want to ask about the father. not again. but I wonder. "This time is happy," she says, "is going to be a child." yet she still lives at home with his mother. with her sister, their previous daughter and sons and daughters of his sister. and dogs. and the sons and daughters of the first dogs ...
just before I pass my site, too, with one of the regulars at the bar, "my" bar. The other day I was with my sister there before going to a room where it will be, close to me, far from it ... I can not help almost stick a boost when it happens ... because by seeing my sister and me (kissing, hugging, caressing) it seems that they heard him say, "this is also a dyke or what?"
finally get home.
but I have to send a mail on feminist film festival, LGBT, queer and trans I do in the CABA, before eating.
like.
not take a shower because I do not have time, but I wash my arms and remove, as far as I can, traces of mud on my biceps and forearms, my nails, cracks in my hands ...
go to the bookstore. I read the new comic-story of Marjane Satrapi. "A sigh" is called. I can not believe that after everything he has written to dial a story like this, where the protagonist chooses to do penance for love (that sell enclave again and again until he can redeem his fault), and where all women displayed in history least she (who is also chaste and faithful to her "true love" after multiple proposals by other men) (O_o) are bad ... A story as I read on the internet (in a vain attempt to understand the incomprehensible) "is an unforgettable lesson about sacrifice, hope, and love lost and found"
bg!
empty ...
worse than empty ... Work on the web
Bookseller
wrap packages and watch my nails dirty on purple paper ...
I attend and recommend. I find books about women in Iraq, women in Iran ...
sigh goes back to where you came, right into the box returns ... Today I have
gender group and there that I go to the library I leave
're doing the sessions in a squat where he lives one of the companions.
the last session saw the "gender violence"
today we illustrate with a text, some videos, images ...
one after another after another
analysis we revolt.
need to drink, laugh
.
but conflicts with people nearby.
and (inevitably) the talk ...
came home with the vermouth (just) gone to his head
feel alien.
my body is not mine.
not hurt.
only dream I have and fatigue so
(encima!) want to write.
today was the intensity that makes me live,
and today, does not hurt ...
want to write something more "transcendent" (Japan, Libya, violence, probate, radioactive emissions ...)
but I can surprise my bed
longing but without waivers
tears because
today ...
not hurt ...
until tomorrow, world ...
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