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.

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.

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

             

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

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.

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

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.

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

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

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.