This is writing that doesn't fit into any particular category. It's not prose and it's not quite poetry. It's not quite sane but it's something healthy. Not all of us have it figured out. I sure as hell don't. It's a series of locutions on madness and locura.

Friday, November 11, 2011

To Asturias


To Asturias:
I have failed in my aspirations to be above average. No, actually, that’s not really true. I’m doing well but it seems always sometimes like people around me are doing better than me, achieving more. However, I know that many of these people aren’t happy and also feel like they’re underachievers.
            Maybe we’re all selfish and have failed in our attempts to be like God – perfect and immaculate. This, of course, is impossible. But we all want to feel important. That’s the most fundamental feeling of human existence.
            In the same sense, to be stuck with limitations that are unexpected, undesirable, and inconvenient is also part of being human. If it’s like they say, that no one ever said it was going to be easy, I’m pretty goddamn sure that no one ever said it had to make sense either. I’m pretty sure of that, if nothing else.

Calle Goyescas, Fuente Berrocal
Valladolid, Valladolid, EspaƱa
5:29, 11/11/11