Dentro de una semana estaré volando a tierras australes junto a la mujer que conocí el 27 de octubre, ni más ni menos que la noche de mi cumpleaños.
Pienso en este último par de meses.
Pienso en los meses transcurridos desde comienzos de junio al 27 de octubre, vagar en el desierto, caminar en arenas movedizas.
"
Hubo momentos en que caía, por momentos, en la tentación de caer en tópicos como "2019 ha sido un año terrible" o "empezó tan bien el año y se produjo la crisis de junio". Fatalismo. Tentación facilonga, por cierto. Y en la noche del 27 de octubre esa "tentación" se esfumó. Porque esa noche, en un discreto bar a dos pasos de una conocida esquina, nos encontramos por primera vez LN y yo, y tuvimos suerte los dos. Nos ayudaron el algorritmo, nuestra curiosidad y la iniciativa por parte de ambos.
Wednesday, December 18, 2019
Sunday, December 15, 2019
Emerging - From June to December
I'm always myself. Sometimes more, sometimes less.
Now I can say I feel more myself than a few months ago.
More, much more...
And there's a woman I like so much...
and she likes me so much...
It feels like it can't get any better than that.
Now I can say I feel more myself than a few months ago.
More, much more...
And there's a woman I like so much...
and she likes me so much...
It feels like it can't get any better than that.
Thursday, November 21, 2019
A month already
October 27 in the evening. A bar in Evanston.
I walked down the stairs and there she was, LN having a drink at the bar. She looked just like in the app. We met, we talked and in no time we were eagerly holding hands and kissing, oblivious of the mostly male crowd.
An instant "flechazo".
-- Love at first sight?
-- I don't know, it feels like we tacitly agree to stay away from big words for the time being.
November 28
I've been seeing her for a month already and I don't mind the cold, the rain, the snow.
That magic night I left behind the emotional shock I survived back in late Spring.
That night was the beginning of something beautiful.
And I feel lucky
and I feel happy
simply happy
And for the first time in a long time I feel that I want no other woman.
I walked down the stairs and there she was, LN having a drink at the bar. She looked just like in the app. We met, we talked and in no time we were eagerly holding hands and kissing, oblivious of the mostly male crowd.
An instant "flechazo".
-- Love at first sight?
-- I don't know, it feels like we tacitly agree to stay away from big words for the time being.
November 28
I've been seeing her for a month already and I don't mind the cold, the rain, the snow.
That magic night I left behind the emotional shock I survived back in late Spring.
That night was the beginning of something beautiful.
And I feel lucky
and I feel happy
simply happy
And for the first time in a long time I feel that I want no other woman.
Sunday, November 10, 2019
El mundo me pesa
Bien Argentina, Brasil...
Bien la resistencia en Chile, pese a Piñera
Mal la coalición y el balotaje en Uruguay aunque espero que el FA haga la hazaña y remonte...
Y sin embargo, Bolivia... el contrapeso que le faltaba a la derecha.
Bien la resistencia en Chile, pese a Piñera
Mal la coalición y el balotaje en Uruguay aunque espero que el FA haga la hazaña y remonte...
Y sin embargo, Bolivia... el contrapeso que le faltaba a la derecha.
El mundo me pesa.
Hoy más que nunca, el mundo me pesa.
Si Bolivia solo produjese chuño, papas y vicuña, nadie sabría ni dónde está en el mapa.
Wednesday, November 6, 2019
Retrospectiva al 5 de noviembre de 2019
Desde hace aproximadamente un par de años, mis clases de canto y diligencias relacionadas me llevaban una vez por semana a uno de los sectores de Edgewater cercanos al lago, no muy lejos de Devon St., el límite con East Rogers Park. En aquellos días ni siquiera imaginaba que un día como hoy iba a mirar a mi alrededor como residente de este barrio del norte de Chicago.
Eran meses y años en los que la relación con JB era uno de los pilares de mi vida. Amor, dedicación, afecto, lealtad, de ambos, durante casi 16 años. Cuando se produjo la separación, me encontré de repente en la disyuntiva de buscar en un tiempo record un apartamento en el que alojarme, con preferencia en el mismo Rogers Park; no quería irme muy lejos o quizá por el malsano apego a una mujer que, sin perjuicio de sus motivos, había decidido apartarme de su vida.
Cuando vi el anuncio del apartamento en el edificio vintage en Kenmore y Granville, no lo pensé dos veces. Ahora que lo pienso, decir que fue cuesta arriba conseguir vivienda, empacar, mudarme y hacer los trámites pertinentes, no alcanza a transmitir la idea. No sé cómo pude contener las lágrimas durante esos días, esas semanas, esos meses. Toda esa etapa luchando contra la tendencia a rememorar los últimos días de convivencia con JB, sus últimos gestos de afecto y las últimas noches de placer que compartimos. Entre tales memorias no faltó el replay del show anafiláctico y los repetidos ataques de asfixia y bronquitis, seguramente vinculados a la aspiración del humo y los vapeos de cannabis y cigarrillos. La bronquitis que padece constantemente JB data de la conversión a su diferente terapia En gran medida, JB, es y ha sido víctima de la inoperancia del pseudo sistema de atención médico-sanitaria de EE.UU. La desintoxicación de opioides ha sido reactiva, inmediata y brutal, con los riesgos concomitantes. Por otra parte, la especialidad de clínicas del dolor es de locos, ni siquiera es una especialidad. El especialista con consultorio situado en Sheridan y Berwyn solo tiene una especialidad reconocida y adquirida mediante residencia: anestesiología. Lo otro es empírico y a ojo de buen cubero. Asimismo, remitir a los pacientes a un dispensario de cannabis medicnal es dejar la cantidad, calidad, variedad de formas, dosis y cepas a criterio de los propios pacientes y del personal de los dispensarios, en su mayor parte consumidores habituales cuya formación no es ni por asomo comparable a la de ningún profesional del sector salud.
Si a todo eso le sumamos las repetidas inyecciones de corticoesteroides y el posible abandono de los antidepresivos que tomaba (las "happy pills"), más el shock orgánico de la repentina, rápida y radical pérdida de peso como consecuencia de la desintoxicación de los opioides y trastornos varios, la receta para un serio shock psicológico estaban dadas. He sido testigo de sus alucinaciones, cambios de estado de ánimo repentinos, ilusiones vividas como hechos reales, miradas hacia un punto fijo. Alternancia entre excesiva alegría y momentos de furia. Y el factor dinero. El jodido dinero, que en su caso no hizo otra cosa que exacerbar su omnipotencia.
¿Bipolar en fase maníaca, en la que sus "medicamentos" y la abstinencia de los opiáceos fueron los disparadores? Es posible. Era mi deber comunicárselo a su familia y al ignorante y altanero médico del dolor. Lo hice, sin amenazas, claramente, como consta en carta certificada que le envié al "dotor" a mediados de junio del corriente año.
En la actualidad me consta que parte de su "medicación" son los tragos fuertes que le sirven en un bar de una de las zonas más caras de esta ciudad. Ahora que dispone de dinero para quemar, al parecer impone su presencia ante bartenders que a ciertas alturas suelen perder la paciencia, después de todo no son psiquiatras y no les debe hacer gracia aguantar impertinencias cuando llega la hora de cierre, pero dejemos de lado a JB, es mi ex o es solamente mi ex y pertenece al pasado.
Ahora vivo en Edgewater. Llevo en esta zona cuatro meses y pico. He procurado conocer mujeres a través de aplicaciones de citas, Tinder, POF, Zoosk, match.com, etc., en un par de casos he optado por por las versiones pagas. Empecé demasiado temprano, a mediados de julio, con las heridas abiertas por así decirlo. Recuerdo las primeras citas que más bien fueron entrevistas: la bielorrusa Irina, Sarah (podría haber sido interesante pero no conmigo "all over the place"), Susan quien parecía interesante pero le gusta demasiado beber por beber (en un par de citas light ya estaba media beoda), Laura en la mañana, fracaso total, Francesca la italiana a quien traté por teléfono y me aburrió, dos polacas con quienes no pasamos de enviarnos textos y llamados telefónicos, la señora búlgara cuya amiga me recomendó; Liza, a quien finalmente conocí en persona y casi sale corriendo, jajaja....
Lucy, la brasileña misteriosa, físicamente atractiva pero con preferencias políticas/ideológicas aterradoras, bolsonarista para más datos... Unos cuantos desencuentros e intentos de timo en las tres o cuatro apps de citas que estuve visitando, etc. Y Carline... tanto nadar para venir a ahogarse en la orilla.
Evidentemente no soy del gusto de todo el mundo o, como dice MB, soy una especie de "gusto adquirido". Pero aún así,
También MB, un capítulo aparte, incompatibilidades culturales/religiosas y lecciones de vida dignas de otro capítulo. MB merece mejor suerte, aunque por lo visto yo no soy el hombre que ella necesita ni ella la mujer que deseo como pareja. Ella misma me sugirió que quedásemos como amigos, dado que percibía que yo hacía un esfuerzo para adaptarme a la realidad de ella, o más bien conformarme con ella. Y tenía razón.
En resumen, tras cuatro meses de citas con suerte variada, algunas de ellas más meetings que otra cosa, el 27 de octubre por la noche conocí a una mujer extraordinaria con nombre de personaje de película. Flechazo mutuo y una historia que merece más que un capítulo aparte en esta historia, una de las tantas historias de este inmigrante yorugua, ciudadano de tres países, y unas cuantas reinvenciones.
Me reinvento, luego existo.
Eran meses y años en los que la relación con JB era uno de los pilares de mi vida. Amor, dedicación, afecto, lealtad, de ambos, durante casi 16 años. Cuando se produjo la separación, me encontré de repente en la disyuntiva de buscar en un tiempo record un apartamento en el que alojarme, con preferencia en el mismo Rogers Park; no quería irme muy lejos o quizá por el malsano apego a una mujer que, sin perjuicio de sus motivos, había decidido apartarme de su vida.
Cuando vi el anuncio del apartamento en el edificio vintage en Kenmore y Granville, no lo pensé dos veces. Ahora que lo pienso, decir que fue cuesta arriba conseguir vivienda, empacar, mudarme y hacer los trámites pertinentes, no alcanza a transmitir la idea. No sé cómo pude contener las lágrimas durante esos días, esas semanas, esos meses. Toda esa etapa luchando contra la tendencia a rememorar los últimos días de convivencia con JB, sus últimos gestos de afecto y las últimas noches de placer que compartimos. Entre tales memorias no faltó el replay del show anafiláctico y los repetidos ataques de asfixia y bronquitis, seguramente vinculados a la aspiración del humo y los vapeos de cannabis y cigarrillos. La bronquitis que padece constantemente JB data de la conversión a su diferente terapia En gran medida, JB, es y ha sido víctima de la inoperancia del pseudo sistema de atención médico-sanitaria de EE.UU. La desintoxicación de opioides ha sido reactiva, inmediata y brutal, con los riesgos concomitantes. Por otra parte, la especialidad de clínicas del dolor es de locos, ni siquiera es una especialidad. El especialista con consultorio situado en Sheridan y Berwyn solo tiene una especialidad reconocida y adquirida mediante residencia: anestesiología. Lo otro es empírico y a ojo de buen cubero. Asimismo, remitir a los pacientes a un dispensario de cannabis medicnal es dejar la cantidad, calidad, variedad de formas, dosis y cepas a criterio de los propios pacientes y del personal de los dispensarios, en su mayor parte consumidores habituales cuya formación no es ni por asomo comparable a la de ningún profesional del sector salud.
Si a todo eso le sumamos las repetidas inyecciones de corticoesteroides y el posible abandono de los antidepresivos que tomaba (las "happy pills"), más el shock orgánico de la repentina, rápida y radical pérdida de peso como consecuencia de la desintoxicación de los opioides y trastornos varios, la receta para un serio shock psicológico estaban dadas. He sido testigo de sus alucinaciones, cambios de estado de ánimo repentinos, ilusiones vividas como hechos reales, miradas hacia un punto fijo. Alternancia entre excesiva alegría y momentos de furia. Y el factor dinero. El jodido dinero, que en su caso no hizo otra cosa que exacerbar su omnipotencia.
¿Bipolar en fase maníaca, en la que sus "medicamentos" y la abstinencia de los opiáceos fueron los disparadores? Es posible. Era mi deber comunicárselo a su familia y al ignorante y altanero médico del dolor. Lo hice, sin amenazas, claramente, como consta en carta certificada que le envié al "dotor" a mediados de junio del corriente año.
En la actualidad me consta que parte de su "medicación" son los tragos fuertes que le sirven en un bar de una de las zonas más caras de esta ciudad. Ahora que dispone de dinero para quemar, al parecer impone su presencia ante bartenders que a ciertas alturas suelen perder la paciencia, después de todo no son psiquiatras y no les debe hacer gracia aguantar impertinencias cuando llega la hora de cierre, pero dejemos de lado a JB, es mi ex o es solamente mi ex y pertenece al pasado.
Ahora vivo en Edgewater. Llevo en esta zona cuatro meses y pico. He procurado conocer mujeres a través de aplicaciones de citas, Tinder, POF, Zoosk, match.com, etc., en un par de casos he optado por por las versiones pagas. Empecé demasiado temprano, a mediados de julio, con las heridas abiertas por así decirlo. Recuerdo las primeras citas que más bien fueron entrevistas: la bielorrusa Irina, Sarah (podría haber sido interesante pero no conmigo "all over the place"), Susan quien parecía interesante pero le gusta demasiado beber por beber (en un par de citas light ya estaba media beoda), Laura en la mañana, fracaso total, Francesca la italiana a quien traté por teléfono y me aburrió, dos polacas con quienes no pasamos de enviarnos textos y llamados telefónicos, la señora búlgara cuya amiga me recomendó; Liza, a quien finalmente conocí en persona y casi sale corriendo, jajaja....
Lucy, la brasileña misteriosa, físicamente atractiva pero con preferencias políticas/ideológicas aterradoras, bolsonarista para más datos... Unos cuantos desencuentros e intentos de timo en las tres o cuatro apps de citas que estuve visitando, etc. Y Carline... tanto nadar para venir a ahogarse en la orilla.
Evidentemente no soy del gusto de todo el mundo o, como dice MB, soy una especie de "gusto adquirido". Pero aún así,
También MB, un capítulo aparte, incompatibilidades culturales/religiosas y lecciones de vida dignas de otro capítulo. MB merece mejor suerte, aunque por lo visto yo no soy el hombre que ella necesita ni ella la mujer que deseo como pareja. Ella misma me sugirió que quedásemos como amigos, dado que percibía que yo hacía un esfuerzo para adaptarme a la realidad de ella, o más bien conformarme con ella. Y tenía razón.
En resumen, tras cuatro meses de citas con suerte variada, algunas de ellas más meetings que otra cosa, el 27 de octubre por la noche conocí a una mujer extraordinaria con nombre de personaje de película. Flechazo mutuo y una historia que merece más que un capítulo aparte en esta historia, una de las tantas historias de este inmigrante yorugua, ciudadano de tres países, y unas cuantas reinvenciones.
Me reinvento, luego existo.
Tuesday, November 5, 2019
Otoño en Edgewater
Noviembre otoño
en el Northside,
cine en el Century
a Las seis
a veces sueño
con aquello,
con lo que ya
no volverá,
noviembre otoño
en el Northside,
dejar de lado
los recuerdos,
vivir ahora
y nada más.
© Eytán Lasca-Szalit, noviembre de 2019
en el Northside,
cine en el Century
a Las seis
a veces sueño
con aquello,
con lo que ya
no volverá,
noviembre otoño
en el Northside,
dejar de lado
los recuerdos,
vivir ahora
y nada más.
© Eytán Lasca-Szalit, noviembre de 2019
Wednesday, October 30, 2019
When the past becomes history
When the past
becomes history
No more tears
No more heartbreak
When the past
becomes history
no more acrimony
no more ruminating
no more what ifs
When the past
becomes history
When the past
becomes history
And then there's love
there's love somewhere
in the big city
And then there's
a woman who smiles
when I hold her hand
And then there's love
and then there's life
a man and a woman
finding each other.
© Eytán Lasca-Szalit, October 2019
becomes history
No more tears
No more heartbreak
When the past
becomes history
no more acrimony
no more ruminating
no more what ifs
When the past
becomes history
When the past
becomes history
And then there's love
there's love somewhere
in the big city
And then there's
a woman who smiles
when I hold her hand
And then there's love
and then there's life
a man and a woman
finding each other.
© Eytán Lasca-Szalit, October 2019
Wednesday, October 23, 2019
October time
Back from L.A.
back from Vegas
Feeling more rational
Feeling more grounded
Less wishful thinking
Much less wishful thinking
Learning and relearning,
Learning to see other people
as they really are
Learning to see myself
through someone else's eyes.
back from Vegas
Feeling more rational
Feeling more grounded
Less wishful thinking
Much less wishful thinking
Learning and relearning,
Learning to see other people
as they really are
Learning to see myself
through someone else's eyes.
Sunday, October 6, 2019
Against common sense - or Common sense as opposed to wishful thinking
I wrote this poem not too long ago.
Dreaming an impossible dream?
Clinging to an absurd hope?
Just plain wishful thinking?
Let's face it Walker. Let's face it Walker, it looks as though it was carefully planned by JB and her close associates, right at the end of last Winter, that damned protracted Winter. You got screwed emotionally and otherwise. Let's face it, Walker. You're doing fine now and you can do better. Time to face reality, Walker. You say you believe in her. Believe in who?
You and JB wouldn't probably have much to talk about anyway, considering she's no longer the woman you loved and cherished.
She belongs to history.
Her own history.
My own history.
There were many good times, many good days.
-- There were glitches too, but we worked them out. Didn't we?
But money changes people, okay, drugs too, brutal withdrawal from opioids, a variety of strains and forms of cannabis, steroids and who knows what....
But in this case money played an important part.
I'd say money determines her attitude, her demeanor, even her self-esteem.
Money, just fucking money. Most people do things just because they can, when they can.
-- I'm not that way. I kept my cool when I fought creditors before bankruptcy and did not "freak out."
But JB is "most people." People who collapse when they have little or no money and feel omnipotent when they have a lot.
"Es lo que hay" bo. She's gone, she became someone else. Juanita J. B. is gone.
I believe in you
I have faith in you,
no matter whether you believe I believe in you,
no matter whether you yourself believe in yourself anymore,
regardless of your sudden changes
regardeless of your radical character mutations,
I believe in you
I have faith in you,
maybe because of this unawavering love
absurd unawavering love
absurd unawavering hope
I am just a man in love
I am weak and I am strong
Vulnerable and resilient
seeminglly indestructible sometimes
incredibly fragile in certain occasions
And I still believe in you
And I still have faith in you
Maybe because I know who your are
deep down,
I know who you are,
I know who you were,
And "la esperanza es lo último que se pierde"
"Hope is the last thing to die"
And despite everything else,
I stubbornly cling to this absurd hope
Because I love you
Despite everything and everybody else,
I still love you.
Dreaming an impossible dream?
Clinging to an absurd hope?
Just plain wishful thinking?
Let's face it Walker. Let's face it Walker, it looks as though it was carefully planned by JB and her close associates, right at the end of last Winter, that damned protracted Winter. You got screwed emotionally and otherwise. Let's face it, Walker. You're doing fine now and you can do better. Time to face reality, Walker. You say you believe in her. Believe in who?
You and JB wouldn't probably have much to talk about anyway, considering she's no longer the woman you loved and cherished.
She belongs to history.
Her own history.
My own history.
There were many good times, many good days.
-- There were glitches too, but we worked them out. Didn't we?
But money changes people, okay, drugs too, brutal withdrawal from opioids, a variety of strains and forms of cannabis, steroids and who knows what....
But in this case money played an important part.
I'd say money determines her attitude, her demeanor, even her self-esteem.
Money, just fucking money. Most people do things just because they can, when they can.
-- I'm not that way. I kept my cool when I fought creditors before bankruptcy and did not "freak out."
But JB is "most people." People who collapse when they have little or no money and feel omnipotent when they have a lot.
"Es lo que hay" bo. She's gone, she became someone else. Juanita J. B. is gone.
I believe in you
I have faith in you,
no matter whether you believe I believe in you,
no matter whether you yourself believe in yourself anymore,
regardless of your sudden changes
regardeless of your radical character mutations,
I believe in you
I have faith in you,
maybe because of this unawavering love
absurd unawavering love
absurd unawavering hope
I am just a man in love
I am weak and I am strong
Vulnerable and resilient
seeminglly indestructible sometimes
incredibly fragile in certain occasions
And I still believe in you
And I still have faith in you
Maybe because I know who your are
deep down,
I know who you are,
I know who you were,
And "la esperanza es lo último que se pierde"
"Hope is the last thing to die"
And despite everything else,
I stubbornly cling to this absurd hope
Because I love you
Despite everything and everybody else,
I still love you.
Monday, September 23, 2019
Aquí y ahora - Sin siquiera un adiós
Aquí y ahora
en esta ciudad conocida
y ajena a la vez,
reflexiono
con el corazón gastado
de inútiles
ansiedades
y destructivas preocupaciones,
tantas veces pensé
que tocaba el cielo
con las manos,
tantos años la amé,
día a día me entregué
a su amor y sin duda
creí que me amaba
pero no era más
que
una
cruel
ilusión
borrada
de un plumazo,
a puro cannabis
y activos financieros,
duras lecciones
ardua manera de colapsar
y a la fuerza
aprender a vivir
una vez más
una y otra vez.
© Eytán Lasca-Szalit, septiembre de 2019
en esta ciudad conocida
y ajena a la vez,
reflexiono
con el corazón gastado
de inútiles
ansiedades
y destructivas preocupaciones,
tantas veces pensé
que tocaba el cielo
con las manos,
tantos años la amé,
día a día me entregué
a su amor y sin duda
creí que me amaba
pero no era más
que
una
cruel
ilusión
borrada
de un plumazo,
a puro cannabis
y activos financieros,
duras lecciones
ardua manera de colapsar
y a la fuerza
aprender a vivir
una vez más
una y otra vez.
© Eytán Lasca-Szalit, septiembre de 2019
Thursday, September 19, 2019
El penúltimo aniversario
Penúltimo por no decir último,
cosas de yoruguas
porque nos da no se qué
decir último
desde hace quién sabe cuánto
Me pegaba fuerte la idea
de "conmemorar" otro aniversario
tan cerca de una ruptura sumamente traumática
Pero ahora bien, todo bien, fue una
especie de catarsis atenuada, de perfil bajo
muy a la uruguaya
"Vos te lo perdés"... etc.
Ahora "me vale gorro", valga la expresión mexicana.
Bueno... no tanto, pero estas cosas no me generan
la angustia que me generaban hace dos o tres meses
Sobre todo después
de su último mensaje de texto
bastante áspero y grosero...
y el que suscribe está cansado de soportar impertinencias
y hacerse el sueco, porque de sueco lo único que tengo
son las orejas con lóbulo adherente.
Chau, se acabó ese último/penúltimo aniversario.
Chau, supongo que seguirá la aludida buscando amor y/o emociones fuertes en las apps de citas,
evidentemente no está bien aunque es consciente de que está "medicada", pero a estas alturas, I don't give a damn. Me importa un jocara.
cosas de yoruguas
porque nos da no se qué
decir último
desde hace quién sabe cuánto
Me pegaba fuerte la idea
de "conmemorar" otro aniversario
tan cerca de una ruptura sumamente traumática
Pero ahora bien, todo bien, fue una
especie de catarsis atenuada, de perfil bajo
muy a la uruguaya
"Vos te lo perdés"... etc.
Ahora "me vale gorro", valga la expresión mexicana.
Bueno... no tanto, pero estas cosas no me generan
la angustia que me generaban hace dos o tres meses
Sobre todo después
de su último mensaje de texto
bastante áspero y grosero...
y el que suscribe está cansado de soportar impertinencias
y hacerse el sueco, porque de sueco lo único que tengo
son las orejas con lóbulo adherente.
Chau, se acabó ese último/penúltimo aniversario.
Chau, supongo que seguirá la aludida buscando amor y/o emociones fuertes en las apps de citas,
evidentemente no está bien aunque es consciente de que está "medicada", pero a estas alturas, I don't give a damn. Me importa un jocara.
Monday, September 16, 2019
We found each other
I found you
and you met me,
so different
and in a certain way,
so alike,
we reached out
and beyond any
complex hermeneutics
we reached out for love
we reached out for life
and we found each other
as simple as that.
© Eytán Lasca-Szalit, September 2019
and you met me,
so different
and in a certain way,
so alike,
we reached out
and beyond any
complex hermeneutics
we reached out for love
we reached out for life
and we found each other
as simple as that.
© Eytán Lasca-Szalit, September 2019
Friday, September 13, 2019
Doors are opening
More about navigating heartbreak waters
Misread Ex's mixed signals
Sounds like texting is not my forte
The good thing is I didn't even cry
I "kind of" expected that door
to be slammed in my face again.
But what a difference
three months make
what a difference
two months make
what a difference
just a month makes
Lessons learned:
-She's gone
-She's emotionally ill
-She's "medicated"
What I inferred:
-She might not be having any psychological/psychiatric monitoring, help or whatever the fungus they want to call it. Maybe someone in her family, but that is highly questionable. After a breakup people take sides, like in a ballgame, and I watched enough ballgames to last me for several years.
But enough with my futile hermeneutic attempts. "Es lo que hay, valor" = "It is what it is, dude"
Doors open
and doors will open
desperation gradually
dissolves into curiosity
for human nature
anxiety gives way
to acceptance of what
life presents along the way
Good reminder
to keep focusing on myself
learn to live again
learn to love myself again
Enjoy the good things
relearn listening skills
I insist
relearn listening skills
embrace feelings
embrace intuition
I made mistakes
I accept my responsibility for unforced errors
Maybe I'm not cut out for casual dating
I can deal with it but I find it emotionally exhausting
Although occasionally it becomes exciting,
Misread Ex's mixed signals
Sounds like texting is not my forte
The good thing is I didn't even cry
I "kind of" expected that door
to be slammed in my face again.
But what a difference
three months make
what a difference
two months make
what a difference
just a month makes
Lessons learned:
-She's gone
-She's emotionally ill
-She's "medicated"
What I inferred:
-She might not be having any psychological/psychiatric monitoring, help or whatever the fungus they want to call it. Maybe someone in her family, but that is highly questionable. After a breakup people take sides, like in a ballgame, and I watched enough ballgames to last me for several years.
But enough with my futile hermeneutic attempts. "Es lo que hay, valor" = "It is what it is, dude"
Doors open
and doors will open
desperation gradually
dissolves into curiosity
for human nature
anxiety gives way
to acceptance of what
life presents along the way
Good reminder
to keep focusing on myself
learn to live again
learn to love myself again
Enjoy the good things
relearn listening skills
I insist
relearn listening skills
embrace feelings
embrace intuition
I made mistakes
I accept my responsibility for unforced errors
Maybe I'm not cut out for casual dating
I can deal with it but I find it emotionally exhausting
Although occasionally it becomes exciting,
Sunday, September 8, 2019
I want to live
I want to live
my own stories
I want to write them
as I go along
I want to live
my own stories
write them from
my brain
live them from
my heart
my own stories
I want to write them
as I go along
I want to live
my own stories
write them from
my brain
live them from
my heart
Tuesday, September 3, 2019
September
September
Once again
September
Septiembre, setiembre
I don't want to think
of a certain anniversary
but it's there
it's unavoidable to think of it
Wednesday September 17, quite a few years ago.
I had a soccer game and decided to skip it.
I have to attend "an event," I wrote in my email.
And quite an event it was.
A meeting
A date
An adventure.
The Stbcks on Clark and Belmont
The minivan parked on a side St
Conversation over poems, coffee and homemade cookies
And ainda mais
It was good
Better than good
Unforgettable memoirs
Unforgettable
I keep trying to forget
But there is no way
There is no other healthy way other than acknowledging it was good and that I'm still emotionally vulnerable to those memoirs.
But now all that is gone.
Gone.
Gone.
All that is part of history.
My ex's history.
My own history.
Once again
September
Septiembre, setiembre
I don't want to think
of a certain anniversary
but it's there
it's unavoidable to think of it
Wednesday September 17, quite a few years ago.
I had a soccer game and decided to skip it.
I have to attend "an event," I wrote in my email.
And quite an event it was.
A meeting
A date
An adventure.
The Stbcks on Clark and Belmont
The minivan parked on a side St
Conversation over poems, coffee and homemade cookies
And ainda mais
It was good
Better than good
Unforgettable memoirs
Unforgettable
I keep trying to forget
But there is no way
There is no other healthy way other than acknowledging it was good and that I'm still emotionally vulnerable to those memoirs.
But now all that is gone.
Gone.
Gone.
All that is part of history.
My ex's history.
My own history.
Porque afuera está la vida
Estoy solo. It's a fact.
I'm flying solo.
Nothing I would want more than having a partner, a loving woman I would love and cherish, and devote myself to her happiness and well-being.
But I don't have a partner. And it's not easy; it's not gonna be easy. "La vida es lucha", dijo el escritor uruguayo Juan E.
Walking against the wind
one more time walking uphill
procrastinating
does not
make it any better
I'm flying solo.
Sé lo que valgo y procuro quererme más, valorarme más.
Por ahora he dado unos cuantos pasos adelante en lo que se refiere a mi salud y mi bienestar físico. Perder peso, adelgazar, volver a las medidas preventivas. NO puedo darme el lujo de timbear mi vida en una suerte de ruleta rusa contra el riesgo de tener otro ACV.
Investigar
- sleep apnea (y sus conexiones con mis problemas respiratorios)
- circulación periférica
Seguir al firme
- Limitación de carbohidratos
- Ejercicio
Mejorar radicalmente
- Sleep patterns
- Get some damn sleep every night, or at least almost every night.
Conocer gente. Grupos.
Seguir haciendo citas con mujeres.
Por el momento:
Irn (T) - 1st meeting
Sar (T) - 1st meeting, could've been nice but it was too soon
Sus (Pof) - 2 dates, drinks too much/gets loud when drinking/into baseball
Lucy F (T) - 1st date, NG
Lau (Pof) - 1st meeting, didn't work out.
Cmy (match). I guess it didn't work out.
CaN (pof). Interesting, who knows...
Liza (zoosk) - Looked good but she couldn't run away from me any faster...
MB (Pof) - More than a week together, a little miracle, partly a dream, partly an illusion fed by my own desire. We're way too different, despite strong physical attraction. Opposites attract sometimes.
In addition to phone conversations/texting leading nowhere, sometimes not having time to connect due to other connections (the Dalí woman, BB the Polish lady).. Sometimes getting sick and tired of them before even meeting them in person (the Italian woman).
And I'm not even referring to scams, stupid games, etc.
Dating seems to be a silly game but the alternative is no good either.
There are three good prospects, maybe four, y dos de ellas son latinoamericanas, y alguien más, creo que vive en Evanston.
Hay que echarle valor y centrarme en el presente. Escuchar más y mejor. Hablar menos.
Vamo' arriba' yorugua. Has salido airoso de circunstancias mucho peores.
Vamo' arriba' que hay cuerda para rato!
Aunque más no fuera que por hacer honor a tu nombre, ¡dale bo!
I'm flying solo.
Nothing I would want more than having a partner, a loving woman I would love and cherish, and devote myself to her happiness and well-being.
But I don't have a partner. And it's not easy; it's not gonna be easy. "La vida es lucha", dijo el escritor uruguayo Juan E.
Walking against the wind
one more time walking uphill
procrastinating
does not
make it any better
I'm flying solo.
Sé lo que valgo y procuro quererme más, valorarme más.
Por ahora he dado unos cuantos pasos adelante en lo que se refiere a mi salud y mi bienestar físico. Perder peso, adelgazar, volver a las medidas preventivas. NO puedo darme el lujo de timbear mi vida en una suerte de ruleta rusa contra el riesgo de tener otro ACV.
Investigar
- sleep apnea (y sus conexiones con mis problemas respiratorios)
- circulación periférica
Seguir al firme
- Limitación de carbohidratos
- Ejercicio
Mejorar radicalmente
- Sleep patterns
- Get some damn sleep every night, or at least almost every night.
Conocer gente. Grupos.
Seguir haciendo citas con mujeres.
Por el momento:
Irn (T) - 1st meeting
Sar (T) - 1st meeting, could've been nice but it was too soon
Sus (Pof) - 2 dates, drinks too much/gets loud when drinking/into baseball
Lucy F (T) - 1st date, NG
Lau (Pof) - 1st meeting, didn't work out.
Cmy (match). I guess it didn't work out.
CaN (pof). Interesting, who knows...
Liza (zoosk) - Looked good but she couldn't run away from me any faster...
MB (Pof) - More than a week together, a little miracle, partly a dream, partly an illusion fed by my own desire. We're way too different, despite strong physical attraction. Opposites attract sometimes.
In addition to phone conversations/texting leading nowhere, sometimes not having time to connect due to other connections (the Dalí woman, BB the Polish lady).. Sometimes getting sick and tired of them before even meeting them in person (the Italian woman).
And I'm not even referring to scams, stupid games, etc.
Dating seems to be a silly game but the alternative is no good either.
There are three good prospects, maybe four, y dos de ellas son latinoamericanas, y alguien más, creo que vive en Evanston.
Hay que echarle valor y centrarme en el presente. Escuchar más y mejor. Hablar menos.
Vamo' arriba' yorugua. Has salido airoso de circunstancias mucho peores.
Vamo' arriba' que hay cuerda para rato!
Aunque más no fuera que por hacer honor a tu nombre, ¡dale bo!
Sunday, September 1, 2019
More than a week together
More than a week together
Maybe we made it...
Not really
And she knows
And I know it
more than a week together
and it feels like it was a miracle
a whole month together
would feel like the impossible
becoming possible
and
she
mentioned
the M word
no.. not murder :-)
but it sounded scary at this stage of the game
We ARE extremely different
But it's been good so far
We had good times together
And I think less and less
about that woman I now
tend to call my ex
just my ex
somebody's widow
somebody that I used to know
a shadow from the past
I
can't
afford
to get
depressed
No. Never again. NEVER AGAIN.
Maybe we made it...
Not really
And she knows
And I know it
more than a week together
and it feels like it was a miracle
a whole month together
would feel like the impossible
becoming possible
and
she
mentioned
the M word
no.. not murder :-)
but it sounded scary at this stage of the game
We ARE extremely different
But it's been good so far
We had good times together
And I think less and less
about that woman I now
tend to call my ex
just my ex
somebody's widow
somebody that I used to know
a shadow from the past
I
can't
afford
to get
depressed
No. Never again. NEVER AGAIN.
Thursday, August 29, 2019
Everything's so new
Everything's so new
like a Summer morning,
like a brand new evening
in the middle of nowhere,
like a big city,
seen with brand new eyes.
Out of the corner
of my eye
I see my woman
getting up from bed
and we both smile.
I barely know her
and she barely knows me
I met her less than a week ago
On a Friday evening
And everything is so new
And everything is so strange
in a pleasant, good way.
Things with her might not
have even lasted a single minute
But we're still together
it'd be a miracle
for each other
For my beautiful woman
I'll even know what I don't know.
And, "she don't know she's beautiful"
Eytán Lasca-Szalit © 2019
like a Summer morning,
like a brand new evening
in the middle of nowhere,
like a big city,
seen with brand new eyes.
Out of the corner
of my eye
I see my woman
getting up from bed
and we both smile.
I barely know her
and she barely knows me
I met her less than a week ago
On a Friday evening
And everything is so new
And everything is so strange
in a pleasant, good way.
Things with her might not
have even lasted a single minute
But we're still together
it'd be a miracle
for each other
For my beautiful woman
I'll even know what I don't know.
And, "she don't know she's beautiful"
Eytán Lasca-Szalit © 2019
Tuesday, August 20, 2019
Physical realities
Since the breakup I lost 25 pounds, maybe more. It doesn't sound spectacular but now I'm back to my weight during the Todo o nada days back in 2011, and I will probably keep losing more.
On the one hand I look kind of gaunt, but much lighter, but on the other hand I feel like I'm flying rather than running on the soccer field or taking a walk on the lakefront.
At least one advantage. Funny, isn't it? Or maybe not, but interesting anyway.
On the one hand I look kind of gaunt, but much lighter, but on the other hand I feel like I'm flying rather than running on the soccer field or taking a walk on the lakefront.
At least one advantage. Funny, isn't it? Or maybe not, but interesting anyway.
Monday, August 19, 2019
A quote from Sándor Márai
"It
takes a lot of bravery to allow yourself to be loved without reserve. A bravery
that is almost heroism. Most people can’t either give or receive love because
they are cowardly and proud, because they are afraid of failing. They are
afraid to offer themselves to another person, and even more afraid to
surrender, because they’re scared their secret will be revealed… the sad secret
of all human beings: that they need a lot of tenderness and can’t live
without love."
Sunday, August 18, 2019
An open wound
Allegations of violence against me are delaying my healing process and probably my ex's too.
I wish there would be a way to reach an agreement.
Her truth is her impression. I believe it was a case of altered perception, similar to a certain illusion she lived those days. Cannabis effects? Steroids? Both? Most likely so.
Her truth is her impression. I believe it was a case of altered perception, similar to a certain illusion she lived those days. Cannabis effects? Steroids? Both? Most likely so.
Considering the emotional charge of the alleged incident(s) and for the sake of both my ex and I, we ought to acknowledge and accept it is still an open wound, and postpone any attempts to deal with it until we both heal.
I need time to heal.
My ex needs time to heal.
There is no point of arguing about this issue for the time being.
Nevertheless, this doesn't preclude that I acknowledge and accept the breakup. It is a fact after all, and actions speak louder than words. I came to this point more than a month ago. My rational brain was there long before that, but at a time I was an emotional wreck.
Nevertheless, this doesn't preclude that I acknowledge and accept the breakup. It is a fact after all, and actions speak louder than words. I came to this point more than a month ago. My rational brain was there long before that, but at a time I was an emotional wreck.
Thursday, August 15, 2019
It's ok to acknowledge you're hurt
Rushing through a post breakup recovery is no good.
Take your time. Think. Look around.
I'm not chasing the first woman who would grant me access to her body, although it would be hard to say no to that. But, seriously, I need to heal, as rationally as I can. I need to heal.
But first I have to acknowledge my own feelings. Almost 16 years... and it wasn't just the time together but the intensity, a whole array of experiences we shared together. Sex was always extraordinary, always. And there was always affection, intimacy, complicity, sense of humor, shared reflections, thoughts, intuitions. But all that remains in the past, JB is part of history.
Now, now... I don't know.
Altered perception (illusions, delusions) triggered by cannabis and/or steroids? It is possible. The rest I don't know, I shouldn't even be spending time thinking of my ex. My ex, ex, ex.... she's gone. She's not my problem, she's not my concern, damn it!
There is no anger in me. I wish there was.
I wish I were angry at her. It would make things much easier. But I'm not, I tried but I couldn't.
I decided to end all contact with her, more than a month ago and there were a few unforced errors on my end. But wtf... human beings make mistakes. We're only human, even if it sounds like an overused cliche.
Take your time. Think. Look around.
I'm not chasing the first woman who would grant me access to her body, although it would be hard to say no to that. But, seriously, I need to heal, as rationally as I can. I need to heal.
But first I have to acknowledge my own feelings. Almost 16 years... and it wasn't just the time together but the intensity, a whole array of experiences we shared together. Sex was always extraordinary, always. And there was always affection, intimacy, complicity, sense of humor, shared reflections, thoughts, intuitions. But all that remains in the past, JB is part of history.
Now, now... I don't know.
Altered perception (illusions, delusions) triggered by cannabis and/or steroids? It is possible. The rest I don't know, I shouldn't even be spending time thinking of my ex. My ex, ex, ex.... she's gone. She's not my problem, she's not my concern, damn it!
There is no anger in me. I wish there was.
I wish I were angry at her. It would make things much easier. But I'm not, I tried but I couldn't.
I decided to end all contact with her, more than a month ago and there were a few unforced errors on my end. But wtf... human beings make mistakes. We're only human, even if it sounds like an overused cliche.
Wednesday, August 14, 2019
Maybe I let them get too close to me
Es posible.
Siempre he guardado cosas que son mi mundo, mi propia esencia, mis señas de identidad.
Pero en el amor mi entrega siempre ha sido total. Soy así, yo soy auténtico en la medida que me expreso con total intensidad y siempre es recíproco.
Yes, maybe I let women get too close to me. Sure I do. I can't help it, that's the way I am.
But there has to be a better way, a balance between authenticity and emotional safety.
Siempre he guardado cosas que son mi mundo, mi propia esencia, mis señas de identidad.
Pero en el amor mi entrega siempre ha sido total. Soy así, yo soy auténtico en la medida que me expreso con total intensidad y siempre es recíproco.
Yes, maybe I let women get too close to me. Sure I do. I can't help it, that's the way I am.
But there has to be a better way, a balance between authenticity and emotional safety.
Wednesday, August 7, 2019
Walking on quicksand
When you're walking on quicksand, every step you take will drive you down.
Of course, I am the one who has to be grounded so I can stand on firm ground.
I am standing on firm ground. This is it.
Not walking on quicksand anymore.
Yes and no.
Not walking on quicksand but the feeling is still there.
Denying that feeling is even worse.
I am standing on firm ground. This is it.
Not walking on quicksand anymore.
Yes and no.
Not walking on quicksand but the feeling is still there.
Denying that feeling is even worse.
Tuesday, August 6, 2019
I abhor violence
I abhor violence.
I ABHOR violence.
I have seen domestic violence at home as a child and very often I was subjected to that. My father would react and overreact in a violent way quite often.
Physical punishment was inflicted to children on a daily basis by my mother and sometimes by my father. Those times I cannot forget since he would punch me with an open fist. He would punch a preschooler with an open fist. I hated my father and I made a promise to myself of NEVER being like him. It took me years to see him as a man who had no emotional intelligence, a man who would act a certain way because he couldn't do any better. And, he was my father, an ontological reality.
Allegations of violence or hints of violence by my ex in the social media felt like being slapped in the face in front of a crowd.
There were other issues but I'm over those.
I ABHOR violence.
I have seen domestic violence at home as a child and very often I was subjected to that. My father would react and overreact in a violent way quite often.
Physical punishment was inflicted to children on a daily basis by my mother and sometimes by my father. Those times I cannot forget since he would punch me with an open fist. He would punch a preschooler with an open fist. I hated my father and I made a promise to myself of NEVER being like him. It took me years to see him as a man who had no emotional intelligence, a man who would act a certain way because he couldn't do any better. And, he was my father, an ontological reality.
Allegations of violence or hints of violence by my ex in the social media felt like being slapped in the face in front of a crowd.
There were other issues but I'm over those.
Monday, August 5, 2019
Hypothetical thinking vs wishful thinking
Hypothetical thinking sounds like a vast array of possibilities for thought.
On the other hand, wishful thinking is what it is, just envision things the way they could have happened (the way you'd like they happened). And this can only lead to sorrow, anguish, depression, anxiety...
Face reality.
- Look/move forward
- As you move forward, don't deny your own emotions, mixed feelings
Carrying an ex on your mind
Carrying an ex on your heart
a heavy burden it is
like
a
knife
piercing
through
my chest
like a direct blow
to the liver
you stumble
move sideways
and then a sudden jab
to your face
and you collapse
like a rag doll
and you try to get up
only to make it worse
stay down!
you hear that voice shouting
but you stand up
and a direct cross to the stomach
drives you down
and you stay down
crying
feeling like you've lost everything
feeling like you've been cut off
and then, slowly
lick your wounds,
vulnerable as hell
lick your wounds
as soon as you can
there's a long way to go
before you even begin to grow
before you even begin to learn
you hope you'll find strength
remembering the good things
but sometimes
they hurt you even more
but sometimes
they hurt you as much
as the sudden breakup
they hurt as much
as the feeling of not knowing what hit you
the feeling of not knowing where exactly
the sudden breakup hit you
and every time you recall
in anguish and shame
your sudden pathetic fall
your mantra echoes
your
inner
voice
keeps
ringing in your ears
not again
not again
not again.
On the other hand, wishful thinking is what it is, just envision things the way they could have happened (the way you'd like they happened). And this can only lead to sorrow, anguish, depression, anxiety...
Face reality.
- Look/move forward
- As you move forward, don't deny your own emotions, mixed feelings
Carrying an ex on your mind
Carrying an ex on your heart
a heavy burden it is
like
a
knife
piercing
through
my chest
like a direct blow
to the liver
you stumble
move sideways
and then a sudden jab
to your face
and you collapse
like a rag doll
and you try to get up
only to make it worse
stay down!
you hear that voice shouting
but you stand up
and a direct cross to the stomach
drives you down
and you stay down
crying
feeling like you've lost everything
feeling like you've been cut off
and then, slowly
lick your wounds,
vulnerable as hell
lick your wounds
as soon as you can
there's a long way to go
before you even begin to grow
before you even begin to learn
you hope you'll find strength
remembering the good things
but sometimes
they hurt you even more
but sometimes
they hurt you as much
as the sudden breakup
they hurt as much
as the feeling of not knowing what hit you
the feeling of not knowing where exactly
the sudden breakup hit you
and every time you recall
in anguish and shame
your sudden pathetic fall
your mantra echoes
your
inner
voice
keeps
ringing in your ears
not again
not again
not again.
Fundamentals
Work on health, my own health.
Visiting PCP every 3 months is not enough. "Gotta be your own doctor as well." -- Jorge T.
The Hunza people, McCarrington's research. Longevity, never get cancer.
All human diseases are within us, dormant.
Watch out for stress.
Food, exercise, etc.
Everything is interrelated.
Visiting PCP every 3 months is not enough. "Gotta be your own doctor as well." -- Jorge T.
The Hunza people, McCarrington's research. Longevity, never get cancer.
All human diseases are within us, dormant.
Watch out for stress.
Food, exercise, etc.
Everything is interrelated.
Tuesday, July 30, 2019
I can't complain
Relatively speaking, I can't complain.
I have a life. I like my life.
This doesn't mean I don't aspire to achieve certain things but I shouldn't rush.
I should take a deep breath, embrace the aftermath of this part of life, now that the left part of my brain is beginning to take over, after the emotional rollercoaster.
I have a life. I like my life.
This doesn't mean I don't aspire to achieve certain things but I shouldn't rush.
I should take a deep breath, embrace the aftermath of this part of life, now that the left part of my brain is beginning to take over, after the emotional rollercoaster.
Thus spoke my Uruguayan alter ego
Yesterday afternoon I heard the voice of my Uruguayan alter ego. He spoke, finally.
Maybe I should pay more attention to him.
Maybe I should listen to him once in a while.
Maybe I should have listened to him more often.
And now he spoke. Life sometimes gives a man such a chance.
Maybe I should pay more attention to him.
Maybe I should listen to him once in a while.
Maybe I should have listened to him more often.
And now he spoke. Life sometimes gives a man such a chance.
Sunday, July 28, 2019
I lost by knockout but I must go on
I admit it.
I lost.
I lost by knockout.
A couple of jabs to the face
and a cross straight to the liver
that one hurt, a low blow, okay
but very effective
I didn't see it coming
I was stunned
collapsed to the floor
struggled to stand up before the protection count
and I was driven to the ground
once
twice
and I stayed down
exhausted
in pain
And then the shower,
getting dressed
and sneaking out
in solitude
licking my wounds
crying in anguish and shame
But then
I remembered who I am
And I stood up,
and as I've done a thousand times
I stood up, looked around,
the sun was shining
and I kept walking
and I keep walking
and I will be walking
till the day I die.
Eytán Lasca-Szalit © July 27 2019
I lost.
I lost by knockout.
A couple of jabs to the face
and a cross straight to the liver
that one hurt, a low blow, okay
but very effective
I didn't see it coming
I was stunned
collapsed to the floor
struggled to stand up before the protection count
and I was driven to the ground
once
twice
and I stayed down
exhausted
in pain
And then the shower,
getting dressed
and sneaking out
in solitude
licking my wounds
crying in anguish and shame
But then
I remembered who I am
And I stood up,
and as I've done a thousand times
I stood up, looked around,
the sun was shining
and I kept walking
and I keep walking
and I will be walking
till the day I die.
Eytán Lasca-Szalit © July 27 2019
Friday, July 26, 2019
Somebody that I used to know
Like the title of a song
and now she's gone
hard to tell where's she's going
She says she moved on
and now she's not my lover
and now she's not my woman
now her name is anger
now her name is contempt
We shared love
we shared respect
we shared intimacy
we shared sex in a way
we never experienced before
we shared the deepest love
we both ever experienced
and now she's gone
and now she's gone
Now she's just somebody
now she's just somebody
somebody that I used to know.
© Eytán Lasca-Szalit © 2019
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DqRC5tquyU0
and now she's gone
hard to tell where's she's going
She says she moved on
and now she's not my lover
and now she's not my woman
now her name is anger
now her name is contempt
We shared love
we shared respect
we shared intimacy
we shared sex in a way
we never experienced before
we shared the deepest love
we both ever experienced
and now she's gone
and now she's gone
Now she's just somebody
now she's just somebody
somebody that I used to know.
© Eytán Lasca-Szalit © 2019
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DqRC5tquyU0
Tuesday, July 23, 2019
Maybe she's just switching to different addictions
Maybe she was addicted to me and gave me up for stronger addictions:
Cannabis
maybe steroids
the fandom and its population
of nerds, stoners and dysfunctional types
venting her frustrations on the social media
anger
resentment
the adulation that money can buy
the sound of her own voice
the seemingly never-ending drive
to run around in circles.
It's another world.
She's in another world and had been there for considerable time.
I was a much safer addiction, I guess, but what the fuck...
I was not aware of it
I thought it was a way she would put it.
She used to say "you changed my life", as though she was saying, "you rescued me", "you saved me". Maybe that was a red flag and I failed to see the potential for entropy.
---------------------
But I loved her in every possible way... and she did too.
And then the earthquake.
I don't question JB's decision per se. I can't force her to love me.
But the way it happened was brutal. It caught me live a direct punch to the liver.
If I had to blame someone/something I'd blame the US medical establishment.
- Opioid detox was brutal, it could have been done in a much better way. It was dangerous.
- Medical marijuana is a better alternative as a palliative per se, and at the same time, mixing all kinds and all strains is potentially dangerous as well.
- Steroids are dangerous too with certain patients. Patients are human beings, not statistics.
Cannabis
maybe steroids
the fandom and its population
of nerds, stoners and dysfunctional types
venting her frustrations on the social media
anger
resentment
the adulation that money can buy
the sound of her own voice
the seemingly never-ending drive
to run around in circles.
It's another world.
She's in another world and had been there for considerable time.
I was a much safer addiction, I guess, but what the fuck...
I was not aware of it
I thought it was a way she would put it.
She used to say "you changed my life", as though she was saying, "you rescued me", "you saved me". Maybe that was a red flag and I failed to see the potential for entropy.
---------------------
But I loved her in every possible way... and she did too.
And then the earthquake.
I don't question JB's decision per se. I can't force her to love me.
But the way it happened was brutal. It caught me live a direct punch to the liver.
If I had to blame someone/something I'd blame the US medical establishment.
- Opioid detox was brutal, it could have been done in a much better way. It was dangerous.
- Medical marijuana is a better alternative as a palliative per se, and at the same time, mixing all kinds and all strains is potentially dangerous as well.
- Steroids are dangerous too with certain patients. Patients are human beings, not statistics.
Cheesy woman
One day my woman
became my ex
one day in Spring
one day my ex
in a sudden turn
became the cheese
Vitriol and anger
on the internet
contempt and rancor
in tweets and posts
mopping the floor
with any man
living illusions
omnipotent
Said no more kisses
you're now my ex
and now
the cheese must stand alone
Said I'm the cheese
and I stand alone.
And now my woman
became my ex
a woman who once
was soul and flesh
and now my woman
who is now my ex
has now decided
to turn to cheese.
© Eytan Lasca-Szalit 2019
became my ex
one day in Spring
one day my ex
in a sudden turn
became the cheese
Vitriol and anger
on the internet
contempt and rancor
in tweets and posts
mopping the floor
with any man
living illusions
omnipotent
Said no more kisses
you're now my ex
and now
the cheese must stand alone
Said I'm the cheese
and I stand alone.
And now my woman
became my ex
a woman who once
was soul and flesh
and now my woman
who is now my ex
has now decided
to turn to cheese.
© Eytan Lasca-Szalit 2019
Addiction
Maybe my ex was just an addiction and I became an addict to her words and flesh.
"Eres el mejor amante del mundo", she would often say. And she was sincere.
That was in another era, another time.
That used to happen until not too long, after an earthquake split our world into obscene chunks of shattered reality.
Do I want to be with a woman who disrespects me, a woman in her late 50s who disrespects herself by acting like a teenage brat on the one hand, sometimes playing the merry widow, an unhinged, misguided cougar with a thirst for who knows what, and on the other hand spits out her resentment against men in general and any specific man who becomes the target of her intense, longtime bottled up anger/hatred? Do I? My left side of the brain's vote is an unqualified NO.
I finally got tired
tired of
her
paranoia
her mistrust
blaming it all on others
false allegations of violence
false allegations of anger (projection)
feelings of omnipotence
Someone who needs drugs
and money to pretend to be assertive
someone who has very little self-esteem
and needs all her money paraphernalia
and drugs
to spit on whoever is not part of her clan
deep down I am deeply sorry for her
But I need to protect myself
Someone who says "I moved on" over and over
is masking her own insecurity.
If you moved on, you wouldn't even think of me
Who do you think you're kidding?
I hope you don't believe I was interested in having a piece of that money.
You're gonna have lots of new acquaintances who will want to be acquainted with your money, probably more than being acquainted with you. And they will come back for more money, they always come back for more.
Hold on to your money, ex
you're gonna need it.
"Eres el mejor amante del mundo", she would often say. And she was sincere.
That was in another era, another time.
That used to happen until not too long, after an earthquake split our world into obscene chunks of shattered reality.
Do I want to be with a woman who disrespects me, a woman in her late 50s who disrespects herself by acting like a teenage brat on the one hand, sometimes playing the merry widow, an unhinged, misguided cougar with a thirst for who knows what, and on the other hand spits out her resentment against men in general and any specific man who becomes the target of her intense, longtime bottled up anger/hatred? Do I? My left side of the brain's vote is an unqualified NO.
I finally got tired
tired of
her
paranoia
her mistrust
blaming it all on others
false allegations of violence
false allegations of anger (projection)
feelings of omnipotence
Someone who needs drugs
and money to pretend to be assertive
someone who has very little self-esteem
and needs all her money paraphernalia
and drugs
to spit on whoever is not part of her clan
deep down I am deeply sorry for her
But I need to protect myself
Someone who says "I moved on" over and over
is masking her own insecurity.
If you moved on, you wouldn't even think of me
Who do you think you're kidding?
I hope you don't believe I was interested in having a piece of that money.
You're gonna have lots of new acquaintances who will want to be acquainted with your money, probably more than being acquainted with you. And they will come back for more money, they always come back for more.
Hold on to your money, ex
you're gonna need it.
Friday, July 19, 2019
In my face, in reality's face
In my face
She slammed the door
in my face
one day
one day in Spring
she slammed
the door
in my face
like a sudden
punch in the liver
and then the multiple blows,
the angry texting
private messaging to third parties,
and the the vilifying posts
in the social media
the never-ending
angry comments
the false allegations
the resentful tweets
the words in uppercase
And now she's gone
and now she's gone
like a wind-up toy
wasting her talents away
her anger and suffering
oozing through her choice of words
And now she's gone
and the echo of
the door slamming in my face
keeps piercing through my heart
she slammed the door in my face
and in doing so
she angrily slammed the door in her face too.
© Eytán Lasca-Szalit 2019
She slammed the door
in my face
one day
one day in Spring
she slammed
the door
in my face
like a sudden
punch in the liver
and then the multiple blows,
the angry texting
private messaging to third parties,
and the the vilifying posts
in the social media
the never-ending
angry comments
the false allegations
the resentful tweets
the words in uppercase
And now she's gone
and now she's gone
like a wind-up toy
wasting her talents away
her anger and suffering
oozing through her choice of words
And now she's gone
and the echo of
the door slamming in my face
keeps piercing through my heart
she slammed the door in my face
and in doing so
she angrily slammed the door in her face too.
© Eytán Lasca-Szalit 2019
Epitaph to a woman of an exceptionally beautiful mind
July 19
Epitaph to a woman of an exceptionally beautiful mind
Oh cannabis,
damn cannabis,
oh steroids,
damn steroids,
and now her
beautiful mind
is far gone
Oh cannabis,
damn cannabis,
Oh steroids,
damn steroids
And now a beautiful woman
is going downhill
like debris
falling from a clifff
One shot too many
One puff too many
One biscuit too many
One joint too many
And now her
beautiful mind
is gone.
© Eytán Lasca-Szalit 2019
Epitaph to a woman of an exceptionally beautiful mind
Oh cannabis,
damn cannabis,
oh steroids,
damn steroids,
and now her
beautiful mind
is far gone
Oh cannabis,
damn cannabis,
Oh steroids,
damn steroids
And now a beautiful woman
is going downhill
like debris
falling from a clifff
One shot too many
One puff too many
One biscuit too many
One joint too many
And now her
beautiful mind
is gone.
© Eytán Lasca-Szalit 2019
Monday, July 15, 2019
Notas sobre vivir en arenas movedizas
Errores lamentables. Errores no forzados si se quiere, unforced errors, burradas. Cosas que uno hace cuando las emociones están crudas y laceran el entendimiento hasta extremos insospechados.
Y uno no se da cuenta pero la imagen que proyecta ante quien uno más quiere se proyecta de manera distorsionada.
"Novio celoso sudamericano"... no JB, ni por asomo. No sabes lo que es "bregar" con un hombre celoso. No lo soy y nunca lo fui. Pero los errores se pagan a corto y largo plazo, hasta que el tiempo erosione la memoria de ellos
- Tiempo de calllar.
- Tiempo de apretar los dientes, agachar el lomo y trabajar.
- Tiempo de concentrarse al máximo en todo, hasta el extremo de prestar atención a pequeños detalles cómo dónde dejar las llaves, dónde guardar el dinero en efectivo, donde dejar la billetera.
El potencial de desastre acecha en cada rincón a la pesca de quienes se distraen primero. Perder documentos en estas situaciones sería un palo. Hoy en el gym me distraje y dejé un pequeño bolso en la bicicleta fija. Me distraje y ocupé acto seguido la máquina de remo y una especie de elíptica lateral. Lo bueno es que fue una buena sesión que pude realizar pese al tobillo izquierdo lesionado, y lo malo es que había dejado abandonado el bolso durante 45 minutos, ¡tenía adentro la billetera! Hay que abrir los ganchos, yorugua...
.
Uno oye consejos. Hablé con mi hermana, con mis queridos amigos de toda la vida con otros amigos y conocidos. Posiblemente sumen más de una docena, algunos de ellos no sabían qué decir, otros fueron más enérgicos y no faltaron los "olvídala", al romper contigo te hizo un favor, etc.
Me da pena JB, su dolor físico, los efectos secundarios de los medicamentos y paliativos a los que debe recurrir. .
Y me apena que nunca me planteó por qué quería separarse, la verdadera razón. Siempre hablábamos sobre todo en forma directa, nada de insinuaciones, indirectas ni mindfucks. Quizá aquel paisano tenía razón en que me hace falta una dosis mayor de prepotencia y chulería para hacerme respetar, quizá deba ser más halcón, aunque paloma tampoco soy. Del Liceo Rodó no salían ningunos giles. Soy y siempre sigo siendo un sobreviviente. Seguramente habrá habido carencias en nuestra relación pero casi 16 años no se tiran a la basura así como así, y a un compañero y amante que siempre o casi siempre estuvo al pie del cañòn no se le echa con dos patadas en el orto. Más de un mes de angustia y vergüenza, y el sufrimiento, la frustración de no poder dialogar, aunque más no sea que para saber por qué. A este mundo vine a aprender y trabajar. Somos humanos, cometemos errores pero lo bueno es que podemos aprender de nuestros errores. "Hablando se entiende la gente", JB. Hablando se entiende la gente... Pero ahora estás en tu nube. No se piensa ni se vive igual en una nube que con los pies en la Tierra. No JB, quizá un día comprendas, quizás nunca lo comprendas. Tiempo de sanar, tiempo de dejar que la angustia rebote contra los rincones más recónditos de eso que llamamos "alma", quizá como licencia poética o ripio consuetudinario.
Quizá me dio señales y no las supe o no las pude captar. Posiblemente haya sido así. Muchas mujeres lo hacen. Muchos hombres lo hacen. Pero JB. nunca había actuado así, siempre habíamos aclarado las cosas en forma directa y hecho los ajustes del caso. Quizá el dinero extra le dio alas. Es posible que haya influido algo como que ahora ya no me necesita para pagar el alquiler y los gastos, y que pudo haber pensado algo así como "ahora que se vaya al carajo" o algo así como I don't need my "unexpected Uruguayan" anymore.
Otros momentos. Momentos felices.
Veo aquella foto, abrazados los dos, henchidos de alegría y el mutuo regocijo de estar juntos.
Nostalgia, en parte masoquismo, crueldad mental contra uno mismo. Hay que joderse...
18 de julio, madrugada
- Otro feriado nacional uruguayo que me cae encima de una de las crisis emocionales más pesadas que me han tocado vivir.
Es indudable que tendré que considerarla mi ex hasta nuevo aviso, un nuevo aviso que llegará un día o no llegará nunca.
Y uno no se da cuenta pero la imagen que proyecta ante quien uno más quiere se proyecta de manera distorsionada.
"Novio celoso sudamericano"... no JB, ni por asomo. No sabes lo que es "bregar" con un hombre celoso. No lo soy y nunca lo fui. Pero los errores se pagan a corto y largo plazo, hasta que el tiempo erosione la memoria de ellos
- Tiempo de calllar.
- Tiempo de apretar los dientes, agachar el lomo y trabajar.
- Tiempo de concentrarse al máximo en todo, hasta el extremo de prestar atención a pequeños detalles cómo dónde dejar las llaves, dónde guardar el dinero en efectivo, donde dejar la billetera.
El potencial de desastre acecha en cada rincón a la pesca de quienes se distraen primero. Perder documentos en estas situaciones sería un palo. Hoy en el gym me distraje y dejé un pequeño bolso en la bicicleta fija. Me distraje y ocupé acto seguido la máquina de remo y una especie de elíptica lateral. Lo bueno es que fue una buena sesión que pude realizar pese al tobillo izquierdo lesionado, y lo malo es que había dejado abandonado el bolso durante 45 minutos, ¡tenía adentro la billetera! Hay que abrir los ganchos, yorugua...
.
Uno oye consejos. Hablé con mi hermana, con mis queridos amigos de toda la vida con otros amigos y conocidos. Posiblemente sumen más de una docena, algunos de ellos no sabían qué decir, otros fueron más enérgicos y no faltaron los "olvídala", al romper contigo te hizo un favor, etc.
Me da pena JB, su dolor físico, los efectos secundarios de los medicamentos y paliativos a los que debe recurrir. .
Y me apena que nunca me planteó por qué quería separarse, la verdadera razón. Siempre hablábamos sobre todo en forma directa, nada de insinuaciones, indirectas ni mindfucks. Quizá aquel paisano tenía razón en que me hace falta una dosis mayor de prepotencia y chulería para hacerme respetar, quizá deba ser más halcón, aunque paloma tampoco soy. Del Liceo Rodó no salían ningunos giles. Soy y siempre sigo siendo un sobreviviente. Seguramente habrá habido carencias en nuestra relación pero casi 16 años no se tiran a la basura así como así, y a un compañero y amante que siempre o casi siempre estuvo al pie del cañòn no se le echa con dos patadas en el orto. Más de un mes de angustia y vergüenza, y el sufrimiento, la frustración de no poder dialogar, aunque más no sea que para saber por qué. A este mundo vine a aprender y trabajar. Somos humanos, cometemos errores pero lo bueno es que podemos aprender de nuestros errores. "Hablando se entiende la gente", JB. Hablando se entiende la gente... Pero ahora estás en tu nube. No se piensa ni se vive igual en una nube que con los pies en la Tierra. No JB, quizá un día comprendas, quizás nunca lo comprendas. Tiempo de sanar, tiempo de dejar que la angustia rebote contra los rincones más recónditos de eso que llamamos "alma", quizá como licencia poética o ripio consuetudinario.
Quizá me dio señales y no las supe o no las pude captar. Posiblemente haya sido así. Muchas mujeres lo hacen. Muchos hombres lo hacen. Pero JB. nunca había actuado así, siempre habíamos aclarado las cosas en forma directa y hecho los ajustes del caso. Quizá el dinero extra le dio alas. Es posible que haya influido algo como que ahora ya no me necesita para pagar el alquiler y los gastos, y que pudo haber pensado algo así como "ahora que se vaya al carajo" o algo así como I don't need my "unexpected Uruguayan" anymore.
Otros momentos. Momentos felices.
Veo aquella foto, abrazados los dos, henchidos de alegría y el mutuo regocijo de estar juntos.
Nostalgia, en parte masoquismo, crueldad mental contra uno mismo. Hay que joderse...
18 de julio, madrugada
- Otro feriado nacional uruguayo que me cae encima de una de las crisis emocionales más pesadas que me han tocado vivir.
Es indudable que tendré que considerarla mi ex hasta nuevo aviso, un nuevo aviso que llegará un día o no llegará nunca.
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