"La indifferencia es la vengaza que el mundo se toma sobre los mediocres."
"Indifference is the revenge the world takes on mediocrities."
Mediocrity is the best metaphor. Like shoes meaning to be something else. Callie gave me a pair of shoes from her past, a little more worn, in Santa Cruz when she moved in and I loved her, and it wrecked me. My shoes weren't built to last long in that, especially biking to work everyday. I wear boots now, things built to last. They're leather (and they were free, thanks Steve!), if they break I'll just fix them. Guide has a lot of shoes though. I gave her a book when I came.
She hasn't read it yet, but she keeps telling me she will. I don't know why I took that copy of A Mid-Summer's Daydream off my computer. I should've had it with me down here. To give to people. That would've been so easy. But, alas! I'll just have to wait until next time. Never leave that behind!
[to be continued]
I never fucked Callie though. Wow, I can't believe that. Well now, come to think of it, I never fucked Laura either. I had just fallen in love with them. Guada doesn't quite have the same shoes that I had back in those Santa Cruz days. She's older and wiser than that (I hope). At least she's getting some pleasure out of it.
It was a crushing yolk for me. Cold sweats at night, tight jaw, grinding teeth. It drove me crazy. Low, depressed, suicidal dazed crazy some days. I tried to write those days, but usually ended up editing pictures, smoking weed, drinking Port, and watching Netflix. Goddamn Californication.
[stop]
Look what you've done to me David Duchovny. I'm in of all places Argentina without a lick of Spanish to my name. Well, at least now I know somethings. It's better than my French perhaps, and I studied French for three years. I guess maybe that helped with the Spanish lessons from Guada.
Monsieur Ebiner, that wiley Swissman, this is all his fault. He was too good a language teacher, and now here I am in Buenos Aires thinking it's just that easy. Just pick it up and go. Then the reality of Madame Kane came along. She was my language teacher after Mr. Ebiner, for my sophomore and junior year (and I didn't take language as a senior).
Still, Buenos Aires is a mute city for me without language. And without music either! Or headphones at least. The language of the people and all the sounds of the city fill my ears with the same legibility. It's all music to me now.
You become aware of a lot of little details when you can't understand anything. The mundane, the everyday stuff. Like the man riding the train all day, same seat, same train, four hours apart.
I went sign shopping near Retiro.
[to be continued]
