julio 28, 2011

Innocence (no more)


No era un día especial, tampoco era ya un lugar especial. Y ahí estaba yo, sin una preocupación en el mundo. Si algo había aprendido era a ser una sombra y fundirme con el ambiente. Nada pasaba desapercibido para mí, pero eso equivale a decir que todo carecía de alguna significación importante. Y entonces lo reconocí, como un retrato en relieve agregado sobre un cuadro plano.
Entró confiado, con soltura en su andar y vanidad en su mirada. Déjà vu. Un breve instante se disfrazó de aguijón y me pinchó, sin conseguir que retroceda. Me había convertido en una figura anónima para él, de lo contrario se hubiera guardado sus encantos de seducción, que ya no me impresionaban, los conocía bien. Permanecí objeto de su atención unos cuantos minutos. Primero recibí sus gestos con frialdad, y finalmente cedí, ¿por qué no aplicar un poco de lo aprendido cuando se presenta la oportunidad?
Invadí su espacio, revestido de un descaro nuevo en mí. Trató de intimidarme con su dentadura perfecta y con ojos engreídos, pero la presa era él. Yo tenía ventaja, sabía que me deseaba, era su tipo. Me adelanté a su jugada con mis labios, y sólo entonces dejé que él crea hacerse cargo de la situación.
Como una vez hace tiempo, me escoltó a la salida. Igual que antes, me cubrió con su abrigo. Sin embargo, ahora yo estaba dispuesto a dejarlo llegar un poco más lejos, y me guió hasta un hotel que conocía. Supuse que allí conducía al resto de sus víctimas.
Un perfume rancio me recibió detrás de la puerta. Parte del aire enrarecido se debía quizás a la alfombra roja, sucia y gastada. La cama y las cortinas hacían juego, y no había mucho más, al menos nada que destaque con una iluminación tan tenue.
Sentí de repente la pared golpearse contra mi espalda. No esperaba descubrir una faceta agresiva, se me ocurrió que las personas como él tenían un diverso catálogo idiosincrático. Puso las manos en mi cintura y cargó sus pupilas de soberbia. Estuve a segundos de una reacción, pero decidí enseguida que era mejor jugar con sus reglas por un rato.
Noté sus escalofríos mientra le recorría la piel con los dedos, su excitación estalló cuando le mordí el cuello. Avancé y lo empujé violentamente sobre las sábanas. Lo até por las muñecas, un brazo con su cinto, el otro con la cuerda de las cortinas. Le gustaba. Quiso impartir un par de instrucciones y mi mano lo calló, sin tocar la boca, sólo la cabeza. Mi lengua se paseó por sus abdominales y su pecho. Entonces lo miré a los ojos, estaba extasiado. Lo observé durante un minuto, tal vez con la esperanza de que por fin recordara mi rostro, pero ya era tiempo de irse. Disfruté de la incertidumbre que nacía en sus facciones, en medio de sus jadeos lujuriosos.
Me vestí con rapidez. Él empezó a forcejear. Me di vuelta para dedicarle una última mueca antes de irme. Él no conseguía soltarse, y no lo iba a lograr. Estaba desesperado. Ahí permanecería, preso de estímulos y con ganas de más. Había perdido en su propio juego.


It was neither a special day or place, not anymore. There was I, without a care in the world. If there was something I had learned, it was to be a shadow and to merge with my sorroundings. Nothing went unnoticed by me, but that is to say that everything lacked some simportant significance. And then I recognized him, as an added embossed portrait on a flat painting.
He entered the room with confidence, loosely in his step and vanity in his eyes. Déjà vu. A brief moment disguised as a sting prodded me, without making me flinch. I had become an anonymous figure to him, otherwise he would have kept his seductive charms to himself. They did not impress me no more, I knew them well. I remained object of his attention for a while. At first, I just responded with cold gestures, but I finally gave in on purpose. Why wouldn't I apply some of the lessons learned when the opportunity arises?
I invaded his personal space, coated with a brazenness new to me. He tried to intimidate me with his perfect teeth and haughty eyes, but he was the dam. I had an advantage, I knew he wanted me. I was his type. I went ahead to his move with my lips, and only then let him take over creating the situation, not to hurt his pride.
As once in the past, he escorted me to the exit. Just like the last time, he covered me with his coat. However, now I was willing to let it go a little further, and let him lead me to some hotel he was acquainted with. I figured he'd take his other victims there.
A musty smell greeted me at the door. Part of the rarefied air was perhaps due to the red carpet, dirty and worn. The bed and the curtains matched, and there was not much else to be noticed, at least not in such dim lighting.
I suddenly felt the wall hitting against my back. I had not expected to discover he had an aggressive side, it occured to me that people like him had a varied idiosyncratic catalogue. He laid his hands on my waist and charged his pupils with arrogance. I was seconds away from a reaction, but quickly decided it was better to play by his rules for a while.
I noticed chills in his body while my fingers toured his skin, his excitement sparked when I bit his neck. I moved forward and pushed him violently upon the sheets. I tied his wrists, an arm with his belt, the other with the curtains' rope. He liked it. He wanted to impart a few directions and my hand shutted him up, without even touching his mouth, just his head. My tongue strolled through his abs and chest. Then I met his eyes, he was ecstatic. I observed for a minute, perhaps hoping he would finally remember my face, but it was time to leave. I enjoyed the uncertainty that arose in his face, in the midst of lustful panting.
I got dressed as fast as I could. He began to struggle. I turned around to spend one last grin before leaving. He could not let go, and was not going to. He was desperate. There he would stay, a prisoner of his own stimulus, and craving for more. He had lost in his own game.


Andrés Gutiérrez

Just Like Jesse James


You're struttin' into town like you're slingin' a gun
Just a small town dude with a big city attitude
Honey are ya lookin' for some trouble tonight
Well, alright

You think you're so bad, drive the women folk wild
Shoot 'em all down with the flash of your pearly smile
Honey but you met your match tonight
Oh, that's right

You think you'll knock me off my feet 'til I'm flat on the floor
'Til my heart is cryin' Indian and I'm beggin for more
So come on baby
Come on baby show me what that loaded gun is for

If you can give it I can take it
'Cause if this heart is gonna break it's gonna take a lot to break it
I know tonight somebody's gonna win the fight
So if you're so tough
Come on and prove it
You heart is down for the count and you know you're gonna lose it
Tonight you're gonna go down in flames
Just like Jesse James

You're an outlaw lover and I'm after your hide
Well you ain't so strong, won't be long 'til your hands are tied
Tonight I'm gonna take you in dead or alive
That's right

You break the laws of love in the name of desire
Take ten steps back cause I'm ready baby
Aim and fire
Baby there's nowhere you gonna run tonight
Ooh that's right

Well you've had your way with love but it's the end of the day
Now a team of wild horses couldn't drag your heart away
So come on baby
Come on baby
Come on baby you know there ain't nothing left to say

If you can give it I can take it
'Cause if this heart is gonna break it's gonna take a lot to break it
I know tonight somebody's gonna win the fight
So if you're so tough
Come on and prove it
You heart is down for the count and you know you're gonna lose it
Tonight you're gonna go down in flames
Just like Jesse James

You think you'll knock me off my feet 'til I'm flat on the floor
'Til my heart is cryin' Indian and I'm beggin for more
So come on baby
Come on baby, come on

If you can give it I can take it
'Cause if this heart is gonna break it's gonna take a lot to break it
I know tonight somebody's gonna win the fight
So if you're so tough
Come on and prove it
You heart is down for the count and you know you're gonna lose it
Tonight you're gonna go down in flames
Just like Jesse James

Tonight you're gonna go down in flames
Just like Jesse James
Tonight you're gonna go down in flames
Just like Jesse James

I'm gonna shoot you down Jesse James

~
song by Cher
video uploaded to Youtube by MyFavMusic123

julio 27, 2011

Long ago, someone else ago...

Confiaba en que una serie de acontecimientos escondía un sentido particular. La vida era una serie de acontecimientos. Ahora esa confianza se me antoja utópicamente sobrevalorada.
La vida es una serie de acontecimientos, pero no esconden nada en sí mismos. Tienen la fisonomía del azar y un alma camaleónica, mutante, inestable. Una vida es confusa, polisémica; varias vidas en conjunto son una historia inasible. Darles un sentido, entonces, es una pretensión osada, y sobrepasa lo arbitrario.
Y no podemos dejar de hacerlo, porque somos lo suficientemente creativos para encontrar siempre algún nuevo significado, alguna epifanía tentadora que reestructura (o desestructura) nuestra vida, y los mismos acontecimientos se dilatan y contraen en desiguales proporciones a la luz de una nueva perspectiva. Así es como vivimos de ficción en ficción.
La realidad es el más surreal de los conceptos, la idea más abstracta del imaginario colectivo.

Andrés Gutiérrez

junio 28, 2011

Innocence


Me asomé a la ventana y vi las estrellas, brillaban. Era una de esas extravagantes noches en que el optimismo aflora, y la búsqueda de algo nuevo se permea de surrealismo. Porque no existe tal cosa, aunque yo sepa de antemano qué características tiene; y así, desprovisto de sentido pragmático, me lanzo a la aventura de encontrarlo.
Sin abrigos, liviano. Librado al tiempo y a sus caprichos, a su necesidad de un cambio repentino después de una larga complacencia estática. Me acompañó el sonido de mis pasos hasta una casa llena de luces, pero una vez adentro ya no pude oírlos.
Un murmullo continuo e ininteligible me rodeaba, era envolvente, contenedor, pero no significaba nada, porque no me decía nada. Caras conocidas, otras no tanto, y algunas que nunca había visto; daba igual, con ninguna era posible sentirse acompañado, y mi optimismo inicial mutó en cómodo adormecimiento.
Me invitaron unos tragos y fue lo único que necesité para dejarme llevar. La música atravesó mi cuerpo como el agua que es absorbida entre los poros de una esponja y me llenó de sentimientos, algunos inventados y otros legítimamente míos. Me serví del ritmo para sacudírmelos; quería estar vacío, ya que es la única manera y el paso previo para volver a estar lleno, y quizás eso posibilitó lo que ocurrió a continuación.
El encuentro me pareció darse en cámara lenta, como en las películas, con líneas en la imagen, colores alterados y una intensidad artificial. El aire, apenas respirable, se volvió un poco más denso. Su descaro al tocarme anuló mis defensas (inexistentes) y el vacío interno que me había procurado a mí mismo lo llenó de palabras bonitas.
Me propuso alejarnos para poder acercarnos con algún velo de intimidad. Maldije a la luna por revelar mis mejillas de color. Su mano sobre la mía era la causa. Algunos leves y rebeldes estremecimientos alteraban mi percepción de la realidad en ese momento, así que no estoy seguro de poder describirlo, lo que recuerdo es que mis latidos se confundieron con las olas mientras recibía mi primer beso. La marea subió junto con sus palabras. "Sos perfecto. Sos para mí."
Ese fragmento precioso de la costa, ahora mío para siempre, volvería a verme la semana próxima. Esperé. El único beso que me llevé esa vez (y las muchas que le siguieron) fue el del sol al amanecer. No era lo suficientemente cálido. Una buena parte del calendario me tuvo desparramando pétalos en la orilla, eran pedazos que se desprendían delicadamente de mí, y quedaban regados sobre la arena.
Comprendí desde entonces que se puede estar vacío y cargar con valijas pesadas al mismo tiempo. No hay aduanas que controlen el peso del equipaje cuando se trata de sueños rotos.


I looked out the window and saw the stars, they were shining. It was one of those outlandish nights in which optimism emerges, and the search for something new acquires a surreal feeling. And that's because there's no such thing, even though you know what it's like beforehand; and that's how I venture myself to find it with no sense of pragmatism at all.
I go out with light clothing. I moved according to the whimsical nature of time, and it's need for sudden changes after a long time of complacency. The sound of my footsteps escorted me to a light-brimming house, and once inside, I couldn't hear them anymore.
A continuos and unintelligible murmur surrounded me, but it meant nothing to me. There were familiar faces, some others not as much, and some I had never seen before. They seemed all cold to me anyway, and so my initial optimism turned into comfortable apathy.
I've been offered a few drinks, and that's all I needed to let go. The music poured through my body as if I was a sponge and filled me with feelings, some of them invented, and some others originally mine. I shook them off moving by the rhythm. I wanted to be empty, since that was the only way, and the preliminary step to be full again. Maybe that's what made possible what happened next.
It all seemed to happen in slow motion, like in the movies. That's how I met him. There were scratches on the picture, altered colours and some artificial intensity. The air was barely breathable, and it became even thicker. My defenses (practically null) were toppled by his nerve on touching me, and the void I had prepared inside of me soon was full with his sweet words.
He invited me to the beach, so we could grow closer with some veil of intimacy. I cursed at the moon for revealing my blushed cheeks. His hand grabbing mine was the reason. Some mild, rebel tremors were affecting my perception of reality by that moment, so I couldn't give an accurate description, all I remember is that my heartbeats got mixed with the sound of the waves as I was receiving my first kiss. The tide rose along with his words. "You're perfect. This was bound to happen."
That precious spot in the coast, now mine forever, would see me again the following week. I would wait. That time, however, and many more times to come, I could only get kissed by the sun as it rose in the horizon. It wasn't warm enough. A good part of the calendar had me spreading petals on the shore, fragments of myself gracefully detached over the sand.
Since then, I learned that you can be empty inside and carry heavy baggage at the same time. There are no customs offices to control the weight of luggage when it comes to broken dreams.

Andrés Gutiérrez

~
photo 1: taken from http://molymoon.blogspot.com/

junio 10, 2011

Flores en la Orilla


Fue sin querer, sin pensar
Y sin darme cuenta
Nos fuimos del bar
Para poder hablar sin más

Con tu jersey sin atar
Sobre mis hombros
Sólo el mar sabrá
Que tú me enseñaste allí a besar

Junto al mar tú nunca fuiste sincero
Junto al mar me conseguiste engañar

Te esperé mil noches después
Y me llevé mil besos del sol
Te dejé una flor cada vez
Antes de irme a casa

Después de ti pregunté a las estrellas
Cuántas veces más mi ingenuidad
Me hará llorar

Junto al mar tú nunca fuiste sincero
Junto al mar me conseguiste engañar

Te esperé mil noches después
Y me llevé mil besos del sol
Te dejé una flor cada vez
Antes de irme a casa

Sin tu amor mi vida será
Como una casa sin habitar
Sin tu amor mi vida se va
Y sin ti no soy nada

Me besaste para olvidar
Y me olvidaste allí junto al mar
Sumergiste mis ilusiones
Mis latidos son desde entonces
Olas del mar

~
song by La Oreja de Van Gogh
video uploaded by lodvgmusic09 to Youtube

mayo 31, 2011

Desencuentros (Missed Connections)



Fernando llegaba tarde. Seguro que ya todos estarían ahí. Pero a él le interesaba una sola persona, por ella se había decidido a ir esa noche. Y la vio. Verónica estaba bailando entre sus amigas, pero sola. La oportunidad era perfecta, pero sus piernas no se movieron. Después de todo, ¿quién era él? "Un pobre gil", le contestaba su cabeza ya por costumbre. Y ella tenía una vida, un novio despampanante y una reputación que mantener. Estar ahí era un error, una pérdida de tiempo, y no le valía más que para intensificar su sufrimiento, porque la tenía tan cerca, pero tan lejos.
Verónica vio a Fernando, lo saludó tímidamente con un gesto a distancia, y desvió la mirada con rapidez. Damián estaba por ahí, en algún lugar, dando vueltas, y era muy celoso. Se aseguró de que no estuviera a la vista y volvió a mirar al frente. Se moría de ganas de que Fernando le hablara, pero él ya se estaba alejando. Verónica pensó que él ni la registraba, quiso seguirlo, pero ella no podía dar el primer paso, ¿qué pasaba si la veían? Necesitaba encontrarlo un día a solas, pero nunca se veían: no se juntaban con la misma gente. Todas las noches, antes de dormir, soñaba despierta, se imaginaba a Fernando entrando a la habitación, a su cama, y a su cuerpo.
Damián estaba perdido entre risas y bromas con sus amigos. Rubio, ojos color miel, y piel tostada. Todos lo miraban, y a él le encantaba ser el centro de atención. Tenía a la chica más linda del grupo, la mejor ropa y la sonrisa más deslumbrante de todas, pero lo único que le importaba era ver todo eso reflejado en la cara de los demás. Mientras desfilaba y cosechaba guiños se cruzó de repente con Luciano, y se paralizó por unos breves instantes. No lo saludó, si lo veían hablando con él seguro que iban a pensar que él también era un maricón. Sin embargo, no se podía sacar de la cabeza ese día en que lo tuvo agachado, con la cabeza entre sus piernas, y cada vez que se masturbaba se acordaba de Luciano, nunca de su novia.
A Luciano no le importó la indiferencia de Damián, ni las miradas furtivas que creían saber un secreto horrible que él guardaba y lo escrutaba. Había una sola cosa que lo irritaba esa noche, y era lo que estaba observando, apoyado contra una pared y apretando los puños para soportar la frustración. Ahí estaba Fernando otra vez, babeándose por Verónica, no se daba cuenta de que era una cualquiera sin códigos, un envoltorio vacío, y no sospechaba que él pagaría cualquier precio por ser el objeto de su pasión. Eso no iba a ocurrir, Luciano lo sabía, y lo mataba por dentro, por eso se quedaba en donde estaba, impasible, impotente.
Macarena también tenía la atención fija en un punto. Ella era una sombra, callada y sumisa, nadie se percataba de su presencia. Pero ella se complacía y contentaba con mirar a Luciano, porque él nunca hacía nada que contradijera a sus fantasías, él nunca le rompía el corazón, él la estaba esperando. Macarena lo miraba, apoyado contra la pared, tan serio, tan varonil, y se enternecía. Seguramente un día él la iba a tomar de la mano, sí, como todo un caballero, él se iba a dar vuelta, la iba a ver, y le iba a pedir su corazón, que ya era suyo. Por eso no podía distraerse, ella tenía que seguir mirándolo, porque de ello dependía su futuro (su presente, y su pasado).
Sabrina pasó brutalmente, empujando a Macarena con el hombro e interrumpiendo sus pensamientos. Sabrina sabía muy bien cómo leer a la gente, en especial a ella misma. Ella era un animal, nadie se podía cruzar a su paso, porque ella era una femme fatale, y si alguno no lo sabía se iba a enterar esa noche. Porque sus presas nunca se escapaban, ni siquiera oponían resistencia, era inútil. Y Fernando no fue la excepción, porque lo agarró de improvisto tirándole del cinto, chocando sus cuerpos, y a partir de ese momento ella era la dueña de sus labios, su cuello también le pertenecía, y en cuestión de horas, todo su cuerpo sería para ella.
Finalmente, la noche terminó, y ningún corazón quedó satisfecho.



Fernando was late. Everyone else were already there, for sure. He was only thinking of one person though, she was the reason why he decided to go out that night. And he saw her. Verónica was dancing amidst her friends, but by herself. Although it was the perfect opportunity, his legs wouldn't move. After all, who was he? "A silly fool", was his mind immediate answer. And she had a life, a stunning boyfriend and a reputation to live up to. Being there was a mistake, a waste of time, it only helped his suffering to grow stronger, since she was so near, and yet so far.
Verónica saw Fernando, she shyly greeted him from afar, and then quickly turned her eyes away. Damián was near, somewhere, hanging around, and he was a jealous kind of guy. She made sure he wasn't in sight and looked to where Fernando was again. She was dying for him to talk to her, but he was already walking away. Verónica thought he might not be interested in her at all, and meant to follow him, but she couldn't take the first step, what if somebody was watching? She needed a moment with him alone, but they were never together: they did not hang out with the same people. Every night, before falling asleep, she fantasized, she imagined him going into her room, into her bed, and into her body.
Damián was lost between jokes and laughter with his friends. Blond, hazel eyes, and tanned skin. Everyone admired him, and he loved being the center of attention. His girl, his clothes and his smile, they all were the best to be found, but the only thing he really cared about was the reflecion of those assets in the face of others. As he paraded around and collected winks he suddenly ran into Luciano, and he froze for a brief moment. He didn't bother to say hi, if people saw him talking to Luciano, they would think he was a fag too. However, he could never forget that day in which he had Luciano in front of him, crouching, with his head between his legs, and every time he masturbated he thought of Luciano, never of his girlfriend.
Luciano didn't care about Damián's apathy, or about the glances that scrutinized him, thinking they might discover some hideous secret he was hiding. There was only one thing irritating him that night, and he was staring right at it while he leaned against a wall, with his fists clenched just to be able to cope with the frustration he felt. There was Fernando again, drooling over Verónica, unable to realize that she was a slut with no codes, an empty shell, and the one thing that Fernando was most far to even suspect, is that Luciano would have endured any consequence, any cost, to be the object of his passion. That was not going to happen, Luciano knew it, and it killed him inside, that's why he remained there, impassive, powerless.
Macarena also had her attention fiked on a spot. She was a shadow, meek and silent, nobody was really aware of her presence. She was happy and contented just by staring at Luciano, because he would never do anything to controvert her fantasies, he would never break her heart, he was waiting for her. Macarena contemplated him as he was leaning against the wall, so serious, so boyish, and that softened her. He was bound to take her hand someday, yeah, like a real gentleman, he was going to turn, he was going to notice her, and he was going to ask for her heart, which was already his to have. That's why Macarena couldn't be distracted, she had to keep staring at him, because her future (her present, and her past) depended on it.
Sabrina brutally made her way, pushing Macarena with a shoulder and interrupting her thoughts. Sabrina had a natural talent to read people, especially herself. She was an animal, no one could get in her way, because she was a femme fatale, and those who didn't know this would find out tonight. There was no escape for her preys, it was futile to resist, so they didn't. And Fernando was no exception, she grabbed him by his belt in the spur of the moment, their bodies colliding, and from that moment on she would own his lips, his neck would be hers too, and in just a matter of hours, all of his body was going to be for her exclusively.
Eventually, the night came to an end, and no heart was satisfied.

Andrés Gutiérrez

~
photo 1: PartyPic, from http://drama16.info/?tag=party

mayo 29, 2011

How Soon Is Now?


I am the son
and the heir
Of a shyness that is criminally vulgar
I am the son and heir
Of nothing in particular

You shut your mouth
How can you say
I go about things the wrong way
I am Human and I need to be loved
Just like everybody else does

I am the son
And the heir
Of a shyness that is criminally vulgar
I am the son and heir
Of nothing in particular

You shut your mouth
How can you say
I go about things the wrong way
I am Human and I need to be loved
Just like everybody else does

There's a club, if you'd like to go
You could meet somebody who really loves you
So you go, and you stand on your own
And you leave on your own
And you go home
And you cry
And you want to die

When you say it's gonna happen now,
When exactly do you mean?
See I've already waited too long
And all my hope is gone

You shut your mouth
How can you say
I go about things the wrong way
I am Human and I need to be loved
Just like everybody else does

~
song by The Smiths
video uploaded by FilmProjectttttttttt to Youtube