The GuideWhen we walk in the citywe keep our eyes on the streetour feet jazz it downdodging, diving, dividing to avoiddont ask me what I dont wanna knowThe smellsForce us to breathe like dogsWith tongues lolling outProbing the airTasting for some freshnessNow breathe INThis thieves market has a saints namewe call itSaint Johnnysbecause its snazzier, more elegantso snazzy we could be fucking Englishwith monocles, and shitKeep your hands to yourselfEyes darting side to sideIgnore the calls of "at your service"turn a corner, "whatever you need"quickly now T W I S T toavoidthatfatladySlow downPut on your snobbishmildly-interested-but-not-interested-enoughmaskpick up, turn over, put downignore ignore the stall ownerdo not move your handsone inchtwo inchesthree inchesto your pocketDo NOTFreeze
Never ChangeIf in the futureThere aren't wires in the skyWhere will we hang shoes?
All Quiet EssayThe Screaming RiftThe last page of Remarques All Quiet on the Western Front read that [the] day that was so quiet and still on the whole front, that the army report confined itself to the single sentence: All quiet on the Western Front (Remarque 296). The incessant screaming in the millions of minds of the ruined soldiers from World War I was not heard, and did not echo through the trenches like the pitiful whine of a dying horse. But it was there. In each mind the Scream was different; it was the hiss of gas bombs, the shriek of falling shells, or the gurgling moan of their dying comrades. This Scream, unlike the short shriek of a human, did not run out of breath. Instead it was continuous, and carried itself into the lives of the soldiers even after the war ended. Soldiers know when it began for them, though if you ask them when it will end your only answer would be the silence that is absent inside of them. On the first page of the book Remarque states that he wri
Cuando los angeles lloran...My grandfather died today. We found out because my dad called us while me and my sisters and my mother were at the park after going to starbucks.Right now I'm at the computer. My father told my sisters to turn the television off, snapped at them. Asked them how they could look at crappy television when his father had just died. Sat down, and started talking about him."He was so proud of me.""My father said he was very proud of me...""I'm proud of you, Lina. You know that? I'm proud of you."He holds me close and I breath in his smell."Call your cousins, Lina."I don't want to talk to them now. I hate crying.I pick the card up. Well... nothing to it.Just dial."Hello this is the operator, whom shall I call?""Heaven, please."