Far away...

Being young they say, is the best time to have fun. Lately, now that I'm Far Away and I'm having fun, I'm starting to think that being young is the best time to load your head with knowledge, facts, ideas, ideals and other 'solid' things. From building up to that point you can live the rest of your life with foundations, easy. Many of us have been told all these things among other things in our childhood or through experience, previous experience. I just think that I'm wasting my time here, in this place.

I feel as if I should be exercising my brain rather than destroying it, like I am at the moment. Alcohol has become my enemy and so has people. Don't get me wrong, I love people, but I'm a carer and I care, which now a days is a disadvantage. I dont even know what Im saying but Im made of rubber, not steel. I don't want to be tough and heartless, do you?

Today selling Socialist news papers ofr seemingly no reason, I saw it so clearly that it was painful. Everyone is scared. The minority looked happy and everyone looked as if they were in the search of something or other. Then talking to two policemen (who were acting like elements of the public forces but were soft inside their uniform), it occurred to me that, everyone is searching for their lost humanity. Their tenderness, their right to be soft even. Completely ignorant of being in this search, people keep searching. No one allows their true thoughts to come up and show and shine.

I know it. The world is changing.

alize

Back to the Lab

Back to the lab, not as in I am back to my old settings but as, back to the lab of my head. Even though at the same time, I am in new surroundings. I just started British University student life. Basically, I live in a room in some student flats in South London, there are 3 or 4 locks between my room and the outside world. Locks are confusing when you come back from the several nights of intoxicating your brain, which in this new place, are often.

~Back in the lab of my brain, my head, my mind, my soul even. I am alone but not lonely and I feel lucky. The other people who inhabit my flat are all seemingly understanding so far. Sensitve even. Its strange, a new life, new people, new colours. Its a new world for me, and Im feeling. All In South America, where I grew up, everything was undone and hard, in England, everything is delivered to you if you can be bothered to actually do it. I am bothered, I will spread the word, the world is out there for us all to go and grab it. There must be something for everyone out there. We are all equal, what is the difference between you and me?

I feel so dead and so alive every 5 minutes, I want to be surrounded by people, I want to be all alone. Its everything. Its myself which is changing too. In this dangerously explosive lab.

Student life consists in trying hard to sell yourself, but its all about only choosing the people you want to surround yourself with. I feel safe in this environment. I like it. At the same time, I want to drop it all and live on the streets. I need to record it all. I will try to.

see you when Im sober

x

Alize

His name is Product

Broken verses for broken hearts, straight from my unfastened guttural pain.
Waves of selfishness dance around the room, no one thinks of anything but themselves, except for that fraction of a second when they offer you their world in one look. One fraction of a second when the shell opens and smiles, just to quickly bounce back to its closed rock-like state.
I walked past, waiting for my own doors to open, occasionally entering the wrong one. His eyes were so intense, I couldn't even tell which colour they were. Images of the past and present turn black and white. People's thoughts appear up in bubbles floating above their shaking heads. Memories jumped out of my head and re-acted themselves right in front of my face. 'I swear I've seen this before.. I swear I've been here before' I said. All these places look the same. Bricks. The only thing that seemed real was the intangible reality of my drunken emotions.
It was cold but I didn't care. 'You are somewhere' I thought, I had to get there. I started walking. My feet didn't want to touch the floor. 'It's OK feet, its just the pavement' I couldn't calm down. 'There's people around' someone shouted, 'I can tell from the way they smell'. What have you been doing?. I heard people running way. Silence crossed time and space and found us in our little world. I stopped. you stopped, him and her stopped too. We were trapped. Silence. Everyone was too overwhelmed to move. I sank in memories of my childhood... jumping backwards and forwards the stream, the water was brown. Realistic, not romantic. Beautiful. Join us. 'Fresh air, please' I thought. I tried to breath but it hurt. You know, when you try to breath but you can't because there is a lump in your throat and your chest is too filled up with love and feelings and things like that and you just can't breath.
There was a girl standing in the corner, holding to the lamp post. She was tying up her shoelaces, it took a while, her boots went all the way up to her thighs. She looked up at me and we gave each other a broken smile. Secrets. Everyone and their secrets.
An old man shouted 'Get out of here' through his crooked teeth. I went back to the room, you know the room where no one knows anyone.

azile
x

Some days

Another of my moon stories, because like perhaps I've said before, its better to shock than to bore your audience.

Transcription from a piece of paper dated Wednesday 17/18th August 2009.

I'm not completely sure about the date because I can't see. I can't see a calendar or my phone. Everything is blurry but my vision has improved since last night and the hallucinations are almost gone.

Yesterday, out of boredom and feeling lame and in the need of something different, I decided to use a present I received a couple of years ago. Two flowers. They were meant to be used in a tea. My handwriting is massive, I know, but my vision is so cloudy and... that thing was crazy. I got the flowers as a good bye present from friend that recently survived cancer. In Ecuadorian slang they're called Dormideras (sleepy flowers), after some research I found out that they are called 'Floripondio'. I also found out that they're used to develop a drug used to steal and rob people, the drug makes them loose their capabilities, will and memory.

My vision is weird. I want it back. After I made myself the tea and drank it all alone (I thought they weren't going to do anything other than calm me down) The tea started to kick in and it was weird. First my pupils grew and covered my whole iris. I saw the process in front of a mirror and it was fascinatingly scary. I saw many things that weren't there but mainly, I was unable to communicate. Talking to a friend in Skype was the weirdest thing ever. He was blurry and my little image in the corner was, well, red and had no eyes. I was home. My mom was there and we were supposed to eat dinner together. How on Earth? I couldn't hide and let the effect wither off. I wanted to through up but I couldn't walk to the bathroom.

When my step dad arrived I was tripping harder than ever. The random weird acts started. I was talking in Spanish to my British step dad and in English to my Ecuadorian mom. I tried to clean the toilet with my naked hands. I wanted to take pictures of everything. To be honest, I don't have many memories of that period of time. My step dad got so worried, I think they phoned all my friends and my boyfriend, then they phoned the Hospital. They wouldn't believe me that it was only 'a flower tea' that had done 'that' to me.

I was crazy. I still am a bit. Then, I was forced to through up but all I wanted to was to clean my sick or clean my teeth. So they took me to Hospital. I made myself sick another couple of times, loads of times. I didn't want my stomach washed. My mom had to dress me, it was embarrassing. They asked me what had happened, then the date, then the year, the month etc.. I couldn't answer to any of the questions. I was lost. Being in that state at Hospital is one scary experience. I felt better after puking, so I could answer questions like 'what month are we in?' they kept asking me those question, to keep me focused and awake and to know if my brain was fucking working. I'm so scared. My pupils were gigantic, they still are and that's what is making my vision so bad.

A bit of the effect was gone, so they started the tests. They took blood samples, my pressure, measured my heartbeat and whatever. I had like a million things plugged to my chest and fingers. They kept us there till almost 4:30 am. The results finally came and they found out that indeed, I just have had a 'flower tea' I was intoxicated and I'm anemic, they found out. They brought an old lady to the cubicle right in front of mine. She was stubbornly refusing to have a bag of fluid plugged to her arm. She was so obstinate, she said straight to the nurse's face 'I refuse'. They also brought some people from a car crash, all covered in blood. One of them was screaming constantly, rhythmically. I was suffering from dehydration and short term memory loss so I couldn't follow threads of conversation, my doctors were patient, and talked to me slowly and took notes I think. I was so mad at myself. They kept asking the same basic questions over and over. Whats the date today? Month? Year? Who is our Prime Minister? I knew the answers, someone laughed, I said something witty I guess...

My eyes had a life of their own, which looked scary to other people and was annoying for me because I was looking for water. So, they phoned the department of toxicology at the Guy Hospital in London. I was scared and feeling so bad for my parents, I've never seen them so scared. I don't remember where I left my watch, I couldn't see the letters on my Ipod thus I couldn't listen to music since I begun tripping, I couldn't see my phone's screen thus I couldn't phone or text anyone. I asked my step dad to text my boyfriend and tell him I'm OK. I wanted to leave, they wanted to leave... we were waiting for even more results. The doctor finally came in again and said 'we found... nothing more! besides the fact that she's anemic, but you already knew that.' I'm a vegetarian, what did you expect?. My two main doctors were female, the first one was specially pretty and kept saying 'OK, Alright' in a patronizing-I'm getting nothing out of this-but I'm sweet way. A black fat guy started dancing in front of my bed (which in all fairness, was a corridor and his mom was having an operation very near to where we were). They doctor gave me two yellowish pills in one of those tiny plastic glasses, that plus the weird robe (which I affirmed several times that my grandma would have liked) made me feel like a mental patient. Insane.

So we left. I couldn't stop crying, I was like so depressed. I still am. I feel the worst for my step dad and mom. They were so nice. After we got home, they said 'Let's pretend this never happened, just tell us when you get your vision back'. I just didn't think that thing was going to be so potent. I can't remember much but I do know that I wasn't in control at all. I only want to feel good again. Have normal eyes again and feel less insane.

New light makes... new people?

People change, that's a given. I think I change faster than most people though. Its kind of worrying me. Things that I wouldn't do yesterday, I probably would do tomorrow. My morals are riding this really fast and curvy roller coaster. It is that simple sometimes. I like to think of it as my 'evolution process'. As if I was mutating into something greater that this, that I am at the moment. I'm realizing the mistakes I make, by the minute. My ratio is quite high, but my ratio of realizing the crappy stuff I used to do before, under the light of new minute enlightenment period is higher.(its not that I don't like myself, I do, it has a lot of potential it just needs to... evolve) This sometimes happens by the minute. After finding out a new piece of information, my whole outlook is modified, let me explain. Today I read this whole blog about "unattractive celebrities" that this guy found attractive, like the ugly best friend of the main character or ageing actresses or breakfast TV presenters. After reading what seemed like the secret thoughts of a ten year old, I have a new way of seeing people. Of finding people charming and somehow, I now know, that everyone has some sort of tick to them.

http://idontcareifyouwouldntiwould.blogspot.com/?zx=2cd92b331cab8294

Most people who work in the celebrity business though, will discard a whole person if the shape of their ears made them less attractive. Unless you have personality to compensate or you just can't be ugly. This people will also build a temple of solid gold for anyone who crossed the line of average. That fucks up the beauty concepts and conduct of normal people, the majority of the population that has TV and rights, do care about celebrities in a weird almost religious way (i.e. build their lives trying to imitate that of the famous). I personally, don't know much if anything about celebrities... I prefer simple, anonymous people who will care about my feelings too. It is this people, whom I'll be seeing under a new light. Its kind of exciting. I might find some charm in myself too, you never know. Its sad, but one can judge people too quick too easily too harshly and this happens too often. I want to stop that. I want to find the mojo of people you would consider boring. I want Mr. boring to be my best friend. I think I haven't got much more to add except 'never judge a book by its cover' blah blah and sometimes, don't judge a book by its reviews either. Read it yourself.
your constantly evolving (hopefully...) friend,

x
azile

Actually

Pure actuality is to me, the hardest thing to achieve. Artists of all kinds and informants (journalists, etc) yearn it. Try to trap it or capture it, there's no use. Actuality escapes, slides away at its fastest speed, when you're trying your hardest to grab it and hold it. Seconds run past so quick that we loose count and start counting minutes, till minutes flow past so fast that we have to count hours and so on. obvious, yes. but what is actuality then? is it the lame little thing you're doing right this second? is actuality reading this words? is that your actual present (ie whatever is going on currently in your life in long term terms 'work' 'study' 'holiday')? or is actuality the historical context? the 2009 moment-era. this time period with all its characteristics (Obama, global warming, facebook why not, blogs, skinny people)wait! because this zeitgeist will be gone in yes, no time. because presidents of rich countries change (not as fast as presidents of poorer ones, check out Ecuador's presidential record) and the weather changes... it has been happening for thousands of years, what makes you think that it has to stay like this? The surface might change to give place to a better-more efficient- newer actual race of beings. With technology, the changes are even faster... I can see something overpowering facebook coming from the same people who brought you the ipod and iphone and ibook and the i cantbefunnyenough to invent something, soon.
So, I can say that I lived in time when skinny people were regarded as beautiful but the obesity rates were at their highest. That was my actual time. this is actuality then? when is music actual? When does it become obsolete? When is 'its' time to come back again? who creates the guidelines?
Who is this wizard that decides what is 'actually'? I might just be craving answers to questions that are relative to age/occupation/place where you're residing but have not definite answer, whatsoever. The sun not only shines for the cool. Different peoples persive things differently. Things are actual for a longer time for the old. A business man calculates time in paying checks that come and go, a runner in split seconds, a quantum scientists in another even smaller denomination, a bass player in tempos. So actually, only defines what is true in the exact moment when you formulate the words, for others, for yourself, once its said, its gone.
Just like that amazing holiday that is not actual anymore. but hey! after the actual come the memories. and the next actual moment, and then the memories again and then its all retro. etc. x

FIRE!!!!

I walked out to my roof like every night... This time, it was different. There was a fire in the distance. A real high-flamed fire. With smoke and spirits and more flames. I knew, I knew my body was weak that day and I felt dizzy with the first puff. Vomity. I shacked, my leg did, out of control. I went out for a second time, this time with my camera. It only captured red shadows and night. Stupid amateur quality camera. I re-entered my room and light a candle. My Yankee candle reminds me of my step-grandparents step-love and it's smell... it's smell. London's burning in the distance I thought. Like the song. No, it was not London. It must have been an empty field, London is further away. I thought of the other two times when I've seen fires, one of them was in London, Camden was burning mercilessly. People gathered in the nearby park to watch, so did my friends and I, we even got to talk to some of the firemen. Some guy was smoking inside his flat, he fell asleep, they said. Everything is close and near in London, a fire like that could have consumed the whole borough.

The other fire I've seen was longer ago, before Camden, even before England. It happened in my little forest house in a valley back in Ecuador. I had a happy day that day, it was so happy that I fell asleep with excited exhaustion, holding his photograph with one hand and covering my eyes from the 3 o'clock Equatorial sun with the other. When I woke up, my house was flooded with dense smoke. I went outside and saw our four trees burning in a hellish fire. Fiercely. One of them fell over the wall that separated our house from the abandoned property next door. We had no hose. Only tiny useless buckets. I ran down the road and borrowed a hose from the neighbours and called the emergency number, then a fire engine. There was no access, from anywhere, to that bit of the forest, I've always lived in the edge between a town and a forest, I don't know why, it just happens. Forests come with a lot of spirits and stories.

I was incharged of the borrowed hose and of checking on the firemen that had to get to the fire through our garden. The more water they sprayed, the bigger the flames, the bigger the fire. My brother took the car and went to buy a bigger hose. I swear it took him what it felt like forever. I cannot also remember how long it took the firemen to put down the fire... maybe four hours... but I do remember that late that night, my brother, my friend Taya and I sat high up in the leftovers of the wall that once was (the one that the tree fell on), which by then had cooled down a little and was pleasant to sit on (not for extended periods of time though). We ended up that night putting down burnings ashes, little fires as we smoked cigarettes on the wall, trying to be one with the fire and taking turns with the brand-new-long-green hose.

It was a clear night besides the pink smokey cluds that we were creating, we could see the stars. The smell of burnt forrest that we liked so much at first began to make us sick. No on knew what will happen on the next day. One thing we did know, and that was that we did not have our four extremely tall trees anymore. That made my grandma happy, she thinks fire is Always a good thing and that those trees were threatening with falling on top of the actual house (which would have been completely crushed by even just one of them). We used to have five, one of them fell on another wall. It was such a mess. I don't remember having seen my mother at all that day, later on she told me how she she thought someone had started that fire on purpose and that she knew who it was. Someone who didn't like her and had access to that bit of the forrest, it made sense. Then we feared. She feared for Kanito our dog, who hungs out in the garden most of the time. She is always worrying about the dogs.

The candle has stolen all the air in my room. My body feels all weak again. I really need some sleep. I really do. Good night.