lunes, 9 de julio de 2012

Domingo, 3 different ones


Spirits turned bitter by the poison of envy
Always angry and dissatisfied
Even the lost ones, the frightened and mean ones
Even the ones with a devil inside
Thank your stars you’re not that way
Turn your back and walk away
Don’t even pause and ask them why
Turn around and say goodbye
All that you can do is wish them well
All that you can do is wish them well


Domingo Uno
Oh, i am so ready to go. Sometimes i expect Madrid will be swallowed up by the maw of hell before i leave. Although i bet Lucifer would spit it out before he got it all down.

The other day Eduardo ate all the sausage i had bought. A half kilo! I saw Maracondes first and he said he didn't eat. Eduardo came in and played dumb and then said he thought he had bought it. I said no because it was in my section of the fridge that i've had for a year. Dickhead. He played dumb again when i said in perfect Spanish "So just leave anything on this shelf alone," Maracondes went apeshit on him and verbally bitch slapped them. He was squealing like a cut sow. I grabbed my bag and ran out laughing. They replaced it later but i still had to go out to eat and then to the store again. He knew what he was doing. Next time he takes something of mine i will break his fucking arm. They know i am going and they have stopped buying everything, so i'll buy it. I had to buy a new sponge yesterday so i could wash dishes. I had to buy laundry detergent, because it was gone.  They live like fucking animals. I fucking hate them so much.

And then, we are only supposed to use the washing machine between 23:00 and 12:00 because electricity is cheaper and they are broke, filthy beggars. I put in a load in at 11:00 and come out at 12:15 (takes 50 min) and find my clothes in a fucking enormous can of dog food that Eduardo (Fred Sanford) had picked out out of the garbage on the street. A) it was dirty B) it had been on the street C) Where you find dogf ood you find dogs!. Filthy muther fuckers. I went apeshit on Maracondes. Plus, i said, "Why can you do laundry during the day when i can't? You have no fucking job? But i have to do laundry at these weird times and i have a job!" He had no answer because he has the intelligence of a barstool. And then i see one of Maracondes friends (A 55 year old Brazilian lady) in her bra and her skirt open exposing her underwear. What the fuck?! Would that i could take my eyeballs out of my head and wash them. But what is done cannot be undone. 

And then i realize, she moved in and the assholes never told me. This is what Spanish people are like. No respect for anyone. They will pay a terrible price when the retribution comes. There's a miners 'strike' up north in coal country, but i've never seen strikers with rocket launchers before. How do i get one? But still, everyone takes their six weeks of paid vacation. Unemployment will soar past 30% by the autumn. It dropped 2.7% in June to about 23% overall, but those are all seasonal workers and that will be over in Sept. Financially, Spain is fucked from now until the day Germany  just assumes control because Spain owes them so much money (figure about 2016.)

Fired up ... Spanish miners launch a home-made rocket at police during a protest against cuts in coal subsidies. Photo: AP
Nouriel Roubini 

But i don't care. New World, here i come!

Time to hang laundry, and the cook onions.

Listening to Rush;
Hemispheres: Them at their most monstrously progressive. My favorite.
Permanent Waves: A move to shorter tunes that are still awesome

Moving Pictures: The height of their commercial success.

Signals: The keyboards take a much larger role and the keyboard driven, 'Subdivisions,' freaks out the general public.

Grace Under Pressure: The keyboards are there but the guitar comes roaring back in one of my favorite Rush albums

Power Windows: A nice mix between keyboards and guitar but still very keyboard heavy

Hold Your File: This was the point where the experimentation with the keyboards was starting to get away from them. 

Man. I am such a fucking nerd. I can smell it coming out of my pores.

Domingo Dos
I chopped up a kilo of onions and fried them with olive oil, paprika (pimiento dulce: sweet pepper.) It was hot. But i was jamming to the Rush and had a cold beer, so i've spent worse July Sundays. Off to get more supplies for tonight. The Greatest American Barbecuer's work is never done. I forgot the charcoal. I am a boob. I hope i can find some on a sunday or i'll have to cut down a fucking tree. And then dry it out.

I have truly had a lot on my mind lately. But, i guess it's not surprising. Lots of bad dreams too. I don't recall them when i wake up, only that i had an urge to poop myself i was so frightened. Ahh..., we fear nothing like the unknown, we humans. 

Vamos! Charcoal. 


Not one of the Chinese shops ( the only ones open on Sunday) knew the word carbón or barbacoa. But it was on display at Open Cor, which is like a 7-Eleven. So i snagged some charcoal and some fire-starter bricks. And paper plates, napkins and plastic plates. 

Shit. I forgot to eat since breakfast. Well, i have lots food!


Alright! I'm off. I don't have to see these two morons tonight and manana after i teach i go to Vicky's to edit. 

Domingo Tres
Hephaestus, the Greek god of fire 

The barbecue was awesome. We were in the basement of their parents house and they had a vent to carry the smoke out. I stoked up the coals. They had a bellows and everything. Everyone loved it. It was hot as hell by the barbecue but it was great. I should not have to live without cooking over an open fire. 

30 days to go.

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