Twelve-Inch iBook Is Decapitated

Alas! The unthinkable happened, my trusty iBook is down!

It was working fine like always in the morning, but when I got back from dinner it suddenly decided that I was no longer a friend. The Finder (equivalent to Explorer in Windows) simply won't load, the white bar on top of the screen and stuff on the desktop vanished all together, what is left is the dock with inexecutable applications and the spinning beach ball of death.

They really don't come alone. I'm getting desperate you know, my laptop is broken the very moment I'm in the middle of the final-term. What's next? Should I start to worry about not being able to do the trip at all? I don't know. But, funny, though I'm desperate I don't feel that bad, is that because I'm already out of my mind? Or is it that I'm more detached to material goods now? I don't know.

I'm listening to Alejandro Sanz's Amiga mia and I'm singing and swaying with the rhythm. Marga loved Alejandro, now listening to his song reminds me of her and, god, how boring my life is right now compared to the one I had in Spain. Oh... now is No es lo mismo. I have downloaded all the songs and movies I've listened and seen there, I like that, nostalgia time. Images just keep floating back. Sometimes I really just want to stay there and not waking up.

But, damn, the problem is still there. Reality is that which, when you stop believing in it, doesn't go away.

Trilogy: Security

I went to a lecture called The Varieties of Environmental Literature in North America this Monday. There the lecturer mentioned the Arctic National Wildlife Refuge and that president Bush's talk about drilling for oil there because no one lives there so it's a waste land. It reminds me of that dam thing in Iceland (I've read that Alcoa's planning to build another smelter in Húsavik the other day) and something else even bigger.

The cause behind the case of drilling is, of course, vehicles, or our personal freedom as they normally put it in commercials where you can see a bunch of good looking, fashionable smiling and laughing sunny folks in their SUVs or whatever and always on the open road. Life's good huh? To preserve our personal freedom no obstacles are allowed. Sorry, Mother, but we must punch a few wholes on your body, nothing personal.

Something similar goes on here in Taiwan as well, only with a different appearance. The government has announced that this July everyone must hand out his fingerprints to exchange for the new ID. And of course there's a very beautiful name for this: a safe society. In the name of security we need your fingerprints to bust those trouble makers and protect our peaceful citizens away from harm. "It's all for your own good, I don't see why there're people against this fine policy, it's for the well-being of us all, I don't see what's wrong with that, so those of you who are protesting I urge you to stop doing that", as one of the asshole backbenchers mentioning with anguished face the poor families of the victims of the various crimes and talked painstakingly, righteously to the camera like a father would to his stubborn, rebellious crackhead son, trying to talk him into the right way, be a honorable, respectable person in the society, a pride of the family. Make us proud! For the ultimate protection for you and your loved ones, we need your fingerprints, pupils, whatever biocharacteristics. For your maximum safety, we need to mount cameras everywhere, in your living room, bath room, garage, wardrobe, your body, every and anywhere to prevent you from the intruders. Perfect society! You can count on us. We are family.

Third Episode

I just got back from Revenge of the Sith, actually I shouldn't be going out to the cinema, but I was sick of reading all the time and I could not concentrate anymore. I called a friend of mine to go with me because I was lonely, but she was not in town so I went alone.

The third episode is, in a word, great. Like many, my faith in Star Wars had faded with the first 2 installments, therefore I was a bit skeptical when I bought the ticket. But soon, the story unfolded before my eyes and my doubts faded just like the passage of time, irreversible. Half way through the movie I knew this was another classic and when the credits rolled it was just perfect.

But as usual, there were things that pissed me off, and I mean really pissed me off. Just when the credits started to roll, the staff kindly informed people that it was over and thank you very much and all that crap and people started to leave! Yes, they got their asses of the seats and moved towards the exit! Can you believe that?! Ridiculous! And this happens all the time, I'm always the last man sitting. So what's the big deal man? You might ask.

Oh yes, my friend, it does matter. It shows the attitude of the people. By leaving immediately after the screen turns dark implies that they do not appreciate the work and treat it as a thing of no value, like a tissue paper, after you used it you throw it away. And furthermore, this kind of attitude shows that for them everything is just pure killing time. Art does not exist. Of course, the value of Star Wars is left to be discussed and one can either love it or hate it, but it's not the issue at hand. The issue here is of something that's very important and yet has not received its due attention. Attitudes towards life! You see, that's the problem we have these days, replacements, the latest, the best, nothing else matters, it's just keep going and going without histories, live like a blind man, have fun, drink, dance, kiss, shit, eat, fuck till you drop. It's all there, written on their faces, jokes, actions, it's here, among us, in us. I feel terrible, I feel sorry for my fellow countrymen and for the future. People often ask me why you study literature and what you think your going to do with philosophy, can they feed you? In the end, I got tired of answering so I just squeeze out a smile, I'm just so sick of them. Now thinking about it, it was lucky that I went to the movie alone, the last thing I need now is pretending that I'm happy. Which reminds me of Lo fatal, a poem by Rubén Darío:

Dichoso el árbol que es apenas sensitivo,
y más la piedra dura porque esa ya no siente,
pues no hay dolor más grande que el dolor de ser vivo,
ni mayor pesadumbre que la vida consciente.

Ser, y no saber nada, y ser sin rumbo cierto,
y el temor de haber sido y un futuro terror...
Y el espanto seguro de estar mañana muerto,
y sufrir por la vida y por la sombra y por

lo que no conocemos y apenas sospechamos,
y la carne que tienta con sus frescos racimos,
y la tumba que aguarda con sus fúnebres ramos,
¡y no saber a dónde vamos,
ni de dónde venimos!...

Total Recall

This afternoon I came upon the girl that I once had a crush on and whom I haven't seen nor heard from for the last 8 months. She was downstairs with other friends, she was tall, just like the image my head had constructed before me for archiving purpose. At first I didn't know whether I should reveal myself or not. So I left.

20 minutes later I returned and thought that if she was still there I would approach them, didn't know why, maybe that was because my life was too boring and I wanted something to spice it up. She was still there. Well, I wasn't expected to see her today, that thought had never crossed my mind, but it didn't come as such a big surprise to see her at all. Maybe I was a bit excited. So I came up to them, "I saw you here so I just came down to say hi." and was surprised that she was not so tall as I imagined. My memory tricked me, in just a 8 month time.

Tanami Is Out

I don't like this, but there's a change of plans. Today in school I suddenly made up my mind that Tanami was not for me this time around. Ever since the accident, I fancied less and less the idea of it. So, once more I did my homework through Google and in the library. There I found another equally interesting, but less risking track: the Oodnadatta.

One of the reasons why I'm losing my interest in Tanami is that there're just too much concerns, this would be the first time I meet the outback, I'm not familiar with anything down there and I've been warned against this particular track by the locals and fellow travellers alike. Furthurmore, the accident called my attention once more to ones own arrogance and ignorance. You see, the accident took place because I was way too confident of myself and the belief that nothing is going to happen. Then it happened, oh yeah my friend, shit does happen, they're not something exclusive on the telly. So i guess you can say that it actually woke me up from my own wishful thinking. A timely and mysterious sign (with a price, of course). Well, I'm not religious, but it's an interesting thought anyway. I had several experiences like this and I simply can't categorize them all to coincidence.

Now, about the Oodnadatta. It still connects to the Stuart Highway which means what is required is just a slight change instead of a radical overhaul. Thank goodness! Given the time I have left; the amount of papers I need to turn in in less than a month and other problems, I wouldn't have enough time to do the research thing if it's the other way around. Anyway, it's 645km in length. Besides it lies the Painted Desert, a very scenic 230km one way route, where Mad Max movies were shot. The total distance would be roughly around 4200km. Of course some investigation is needed to have a better and detailed idea/information regarding these new tracks. So I'd better get down to it now.

T300

That's the new cellphone I bought this Monday to replace my trusted and remembered Nokia 5210, who often went on the solo Pocket-Ground-Shit! and the like excursions.

The one big obstacle I encountered while choosing a model was that they all had onboard cameras and all that I don't know what for functions. It took me lots of time on the internet to find a no-frills, durable, long battery life phone: Sony Ericsson T300. And it also took them lots of time to recall which one was it that I was talking about when they looked at me with disbelief and the T300...T300...T300... hum emitting out of their mouth continuously like salivas making their way out of the stupified and paralized face.

It's not the latest model, from what I gathered it was released couple of years ago, but it doesn't matter. A cell is something to receive and make a call, not one to play the latest games, MP3s or take some quality pictures. It is really hard to just get a simple phone these days. Maybe I should stock up on some of these for the future, put one under my bed, one in the bank safe box and mail one to the growing Yahoo account storage in case some buggers bust through the door and the bank goes down. Man, this is endless.

This Stops Here

I can't go on like this, can't afford to see myself wasting my life in this fashion. The deadline for the papers is within a month, pick yourself up together and do something. I know I'm weak and immature in some way, but that's not the excuse to behave like this.

Like I said yesterday, but not exactly the same, it's unpleasant, but it's not the end of the world. It could be a turning point instead. While I was reading (I forced me to because I needed to) earlier tonight, I had it figured out. And now I don't feel that bad anymore, cards can be reissued, only a bit of more trouble; although photos and the coin were gone, it could mean the end of one of my struggles and self-sorrowing, that is to say, advance to the next phase. It's a tendency of mine to let myself fall into the abyss (and I suspect that it also is the tendency for many), don't know exactly why, so it's my own duty to pull myself out of the mess created by myself.

As one learns from his own mistakes, so should I. Now it ends here, no matter whether they show up or not, as long as I'm alive, there's a life to live. And I know this all along, just not remembered it, until now.

They Don't Come Alone

Items lost:
Satchel and all the stuff in it (cash card, driver's license, vehicle's registration and insurance card, student ID, health insurance card, amulets, pictures of her, the coin she gave me, cellphone, bank account booklet, Swiss knife, portable hard disk, class notes, money, all my pens, toothbrush, Blockbuster membership card, and some other things which I don't recall at this moment)

I was taking a left turn, with no traffic whatsoever at all, and hit some bloody obscure traffic island! Fuck! After rolling for a few rounds I picked myself up from the asphalt, checked if me and my scooter was ok and then off I went, without noticing that my satchel was being left in the middle of the road! What a fucktard! How stupid can one get?

I hurried back to the crime scene after like 10 minutes, but it was already gone. It didn't show up in the cops either, so I did what I could: filed a report, cancelled the cell and cash card, got all the money out of the account, called a friend and notified my folks.

Received some bruises on my hands and knee, couple of days without shower and some trouble walking, no big deal, still need to check if the bones are intact though. I got all my money out without any problem or surprise, but what hurts the most is not the money. It's those things that can't be bought. She gave me that coin one day prior to my departure and it's the only thing I have of her. I'm aware that it's very likely that I might not see her again and now I don't even have the only tangible thing she gave me while we were in the garden... The thought of some sick fuck folding her picture just drives me mad. In my wallet there were also the amulets given to me by my dad and a nun I met in Burgos who gave me a hand when I was sort of in trouble, I kept them there all the time; all the messages and notices in my cell are gone, so are the numbers. I have some backups, but just some.

Another thing that hurts the most is my portable HD. I put the backup of my unfinished story (about 6000 words) in it, and now if some crazy fuck knows what it is and goes on to use it or publish it somewhere with whatever bloody name they like...fuck! The class notes and copies which took me so much time and energy... and now it's near the end of the semestre. Or they are probaby lying somewhere that will never be treaded after that sick fuck pulled the NT$2000 (around US$64) out of the wallet. Of course it's not the end of the world, but it's just too fucking unpleasant.

I'm losing my ability to converse right now, there're so many FUCKs in my head and on my mouth. I apologize if this post is hard to read as a result of the choose of words or the structure itself.

The Only Comfort Is the Moving of the River

He sits on the bench by the creek for hours without uttering a word, accompanied by the gentle touch of the wind and the soothing sound of the passage of time. Peace, as it might seem. It's the only place that brings him the solace for the omnipresent tendencies towards the pathetic.

Everynight when he goes to bed, his thoughts invariably find their way back to the place where he had a glimpse of a new world and its inhabitants. The wonder identical to the instant when Dorothy opened the door and stepped into the newfound land, full of colours.

He yearned to go back the moment the 4 wheel monster started up its engine with a cruel roar and trembling thump marching to Barajas at 6 o'clock in the morning, to be walking on Compañía, Toro, Zamora..., touching the stone walls, strolling in the piso and resi and being in the places where drops of emotions were shed. Even after all these years and so many things forgotten he still sees them clearly.

Yet, he is afraid to go back there. Fear. He looks wide-eyed into the darkness which moments ago was his room. But, to be honest, it doesn't really matter whether it's bright or gloom, he is not looking at what's in front of him anyway. Even if he does, they all appeared to be the same. He afraids that when he finally finds himself standing on the acquainted soil he is but by himself. The realization came to him that even before it had begun, it had already ended and will never repeat itself the very same way, it's lost, swept away and gone. This thought tortures him and he has no way of battling against it, no weapons powerful enough to turn back the tide. It is written and unerasable. In another place and time, she told him not to be so pathetic. But there is not really much he can do because that's what he is.

It is heavy, sometimes it makes him hard to breathe, it sucks away his joys like the relentless mid day sun, hanging high on the sky, out of reach of the ants below.

One day a good spot he found. So he sits by the stream listening to the stories told by the flow.