Skip to main content

Didn't love, didn't hate

We spend our lives remembering the past, some more than others but in fact it's probably the only thing that we do all the damn time. Without distinction. That is why I will write this entry in first person without weaving with literary artifacts such as methaphors or masking a bit of me in a lot of the rest. Today, everything and me are real. Why? Because always I am a fucking lie.

I was. I loved. I sang. I screamed. I wrote. I disappeared. I came back and I... I went away (again).


The simple past seems a verbal tense created to threaten us with uncomfortable truths. Truths that already hit our conscience and were assimilated by our memory. Truths that are already chapters of life closed and which... Okay. Keep calm I'm not going to talk about grammar to give a boring class and to say it's used to express an action already finished. Curiously, I never stopped too much with the past and I have serious deficits to conjugate the verb, or had to say to conjugate my truths? It must be some kind of disorder, I don't know if of emotional or personality subtype but this is not the subject. Don't. I forgot (her), I forgave (her) and I loved (her). What does the order of words matter in an action already finished? Think about it. Everything: three finished actions are a fucking drama; one, maybe, maybe not. But don't think it too much. Remember the song "No es lo Mismo" (it's not the same), that stupid Alejandro Sanz lyrics which in a pre-social-network" era was a hint to Vale Music producer due to Operación Triunfo show; Vale Music producer which today doesn't exist anymore. What irony, huh? Some will come back but others never won't. But let's not stray... I was talking about pre-digital hints, and you imagine then? God, that was something that only extroverts or artists defied. It was 2003 and that Alejando Sanz song was a horrible, cheap lyrics without a good musical base. Of course, it was another era; with classic guitars, tobacco packets warningless, MTV unplugged hits and voices without autotune. Yeah, and anglicisms (between spanish phrases) were the exception, not the norm.

Return us back to the past like Operación Triunfo, but without Triumph and think about it. Or better, dont' think it too much: actions already finished that return again to be reedited. Again, yes, another fucking time. Surely there is some complex word in German that expresses such trauma, a kind of inertia than mean "loser, you repeat the same error again a again", by the way, Niemand is a german word that means no-one. Stop it. Stop this. This is beginning to be worse than a hybrid reflection between Kant, Kafka and Kierkegaard, the three together, at the same boring time, two Germans and a Dane, as a concentrated pain that you can only can digest with a vulgar drunkenness of a luxurious Château Margaux. 'Vino' (wine) for mortals and yep, 'vino' (went). The traumatic past simple. Oh mai god. Absurd.

Return back (again) to the past like if you were to return with a exgirlfriend but without the 'ex'. Think about it and not, I don't want to repeat myself but the details matter. As always: the details. Because 'no es lo mismo' to be the one who returned that be the one who decided to return. Because that false symmetry (or its absence) changes the narratives and, in essence, changes our excuses. That is why some of us do not understand the past well, we are very spiteful and it's hard for us to understand the "I loved you". Also we never tranform the "I hate you" in a "I hated you". Thus, simple as the simple past: we love or hate, in present, and we live prisoners in the limit of the words and their correct use. Because the directionality in guilt matters and because that comma obsesses to us. It's better lie to ourselves that regret of that comma. And a lie always is a present issue.

Yikes, I already going to leave behind this text because the emotional puddle in which I am getting is never ending. There will never be finished action as in the simple past. Not at least for me. And I'm proud to be like that.

I didn't love you nor did I hate you.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Musical Synesthesia (II)

The Violin and Its Why Because it seizes  the whole helm of the melody and raises the level of the sea. It relies on itself to become storm, chaos, waves, vessel and night. But also shore, land, sky, mountain, and home. It swings freely preserving its endless flow fusing all worlds into one. The piano are words and does need them. The violin is emotion and doesn’t need them; its texture is like the fine sand on the shore and the piano is like the wind that embeds the sand in your skin. The piano are jumps between points in space; and the violin are their threads. The piano has colors and are static; and the violin has a spectrum and is alive. If the piano is synchronicity, the violin is its absence; and, even having it, you cannot capture it, you cannot define its movemen but you can feel it. The violin is the voice of instruments because it is soprano voice. You can feel its colors tracing your whole being, from emotion to emotion. Sometimes, the melody descen...

Mythology (Part I)

This is a mythological exercise about dragging corpses as far (in?)imaginable, and there, letting them fall, beyond the end of time, the limit of the journey, where an abyss resides, in which one legend will sink the other in depthless oceans, without time and without heartbeats. So it is also an epic between two legends. And a battle without destiny. Recites Music, that her soul is muse. Muse sings, that (your) soul shall be music. “War you carry and abysses shall be (your) echo: falls of Nevers Survives, labyrinths of eternal melodies.” Poem .- Legend Music, ℵ Treacherous verses hurled against the walls of Troy. Spears of stars; cyclones of storm of flooded strongholds. Arches/Bows of sand. Lifeless flowers of unembodied souls. Dawns of arrows. Empty armors. Fires without dances. Heart is your shield, impenetrable; and fragile shield of heart; yours. It's death that you leave behind, and your death what you postpone; legend of your deserts: heart of towers, desertions and bestiar...

The Metamorphosis Over Time (On the Passage of Time VII, Part I)

Denying what we are while our metamorphosis is happening is to deny ourselves in time. But forget it and let's start from the beginning: only with language as a burden; which is already very heavy. Essay on Writing The story that traverses this essay is the story of a poetess who wrote verses to no one. This Poetess always knew the outcome: that denied, she would remain; alone, writing verses to no one. If it poured, let it flood; let whatever stood in her way be destroyed. If she was cursed, it would be an attributed curse, not her own. Note.- This is a complex and enormous text; and this is just the first part. It is also a continuation of “On the Passage of Time”. The idea is to get lost during its reading and within its paintings, because the meaning is strangely intertwined to our combined perception of them. And it is necessary to get lost. Note 2.- I think and believe in every paragraph written, this is not a disjointed text...