April 2.

I know people. I know people that really love the idea of doing everything that can be done automatically automatically. They tell me about their dreams. Wouldn’t it be nice they say, wouldn’t it be nice to have a computer that does all that work for us? I mean, that’s what really keeps them warm. That’s their wet dream. A computer doing things for us. And then? We will discover that after the computer deprived us of doing repetitive dull things, we will lose our idea of dullness and hence our idea of livelyness, so we will lose our motivation in life and eventually kill ourselves. I don’t want to happen. You know, I used to have this dreams too when I was a kid, o how I dreamt about a super computer doing all my work. In psycho-analytical terms it must have been a phase, anal perhaps. But seriously. Can you not dream of anything more – human?

Time passes too fast. I don’t have inspiration to write everyday. Buenos Aires is a great city, but for some reason I have no interest in visiting a lot of museums here, nor go to a dangerous neighbourhood like la Boca. A woman I’ll meet in the bus station tomorrow will tell me stories about la Boca, that it’s really worth a visit but the people there don’t like photos of themselves. She went there a couple of times to capture some bridges and old buildings. She was Polish and her name was Mira. She never heard her name as often as she did here in Argentina. So, if you have a chance to go to la Boca, you should do it.

It’s a national holiday today but it rains so we can’t go to Tigre. That would have been nice to. There are great markets in Tigre. Instead, we would have liked to see a festival movie at the Hoyt. Unfortunately, the movies were all sold out, and we went to have a coffee with an omelet. The day was over before it had really begun.

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April 1. Cookies.

Gee, this guy must have a huge authority conflict. Since I am not reading this kind of feedback, I provide it myself here. It’s a common reaction. This guy is looking for something beyond authority because he is looking for something not yet infected by fear. And that something he hopes, that long thread of fearless experiences will be the priceless totem of his alleged pureness. Because of this, he is too blind to see the world.

To live for the only thing you find it’s worth living for, and be the only one who is denied that thing.

In the café, the Jarrito came with small cookies yesterday. Today, the pretty waitress offered me big cookies because she had forgotten to bring my coffee. They were tasty those big cookies. Tomorrow, I will write in the same place again, and the waitress will bring me a cup of coffee with small cookies and I will think “why not the big ones?”

All because the suffering of the other is more interesting than the pleasure of the other.

After I thought this limerick, I went to the balcony and thought this: We cannot escape.

April 1. Cookies. was originally published on Meandering home

April 1. Cookies.

Gee, this guy must have a huge authority conflict. Since I am not reading this kind of feedback, I provide it myself here. It’s a common reaction. This guy is looking for something beyond authority because he is looking for something not yet infected by fear. And that something he hopes, that long thread of fearless experiences will be the priceless totem of his alleged pureness. Because of this, he is too blind to see the world.

To live for the only thing you find it’s worth living for, and be the only one who is denied that thing.

In the café, the Jarrito came with small cookies yesterday. Today, the pretty waitress offered me big cookies because she had forgotten to bring my coffee. They were tasty those big cookies. Tomorrow, I will write in the same place again, and the waitress will bring me a cup of coffee with small cookies and I will think “why not the big ones?”

All because the suffering of the other is more interesting than the pleasure of the other.

After I thought this limerick, I went to the balcony and thought this: We cannot escape.

April 1. Cookies.

Gee, this guy must have a huge authority conflict. Since I am not reading this kind of feedback, I provide it myself here. It’s a common reaction. This guy is looking for something beyond authority because he is looking for something not yet infected by fear. And that something he hopes, that long thread of fearless experiences will be the priceless totem of his alleged pureness. Because of this, he is too blind to see the world.

To live for the only thing you find it’s worth living for, and be the only one who is denied that thing.

In the café, the Jarrito came with small cookies yesterday. Today, the pretty waitress offered me big cookies because she had forgotten to bring my coffee. They were tasty those big cookies. Tomorrow, I will write in the same place again, and the waitress will bring me a cup of coffee with small cookies and I will think “why not the big ones?”

All because the suffering of the other is more interesting than the pleasure of the other.

After I thought this limerick, I went to the balcony and thought this: We cannot escape.

April 1. Cookies.

Gee, this guy must have a huge authority conflict. Since I am not reading this kind of feedback, I provide it myself here. It’s a common reaction. This guy is looking for something beyond authority because he is looking for something not yet infected by fear. And that something he hopes, that long thread of fearless experiences will be the priceless totem of his alleged pureness. Because of this, he is too blind to see the world.

To live for the only thing you find it’s worth living for, and be the only one who is denied that thing.

In the café, the Jarrito came with small cookies yesterday. Today, the pretty waitress offered me big cookies because she had forgotten to bring my coffee. They were tasty those big cookies. Tomorrow, I will write in the same place again, and the waitress will bring me a cup of coffee with small cookies and I will think “why not the big ones?”

All because the suffering of the other is more interesting than the pleasure of the other.

After I thought this limerick, I went to the balcony and thought this: We cannot escape.

March 31. The Stranger cannot win.

O The biggest poser might also be saying some true words. I play this. This is a first-person novel but as a person I want to put you first. It is an experimental thing I think should be done and it costs me less time doing it myself than looking up in the records of the surrealist writers who have already done it. It’s not about O understanding or even communicating some ideas I cooked up in my private kitchen. Maybe it’s about Otherness. About the struggle between the Stranger and his Conceptualization, a struggle the O stranger cannot win.

See what I am heading at? The world is the best therapy. Take my word for it. She can show you so much, you can feel big, you can feel small, you can see how big we are, you can see how small we are. Laughing. Smiling. Trying to live with an everlasting smile on my face that will not annoy anyone – that’s harder than it seems. A smile nobody wants to smash off your face. I don’t think it’s possible. What do you think? You never say anything back. A person that always smiles, she will inevitably become a pain in the ass won’t she? I am really wondering. And hoping.

The woman who was not Sara left yesterday.

March 31. The Stranger cannot win. was originally published on Meandering home

March 31. The Stranger cannot win.

O The biggest poser might also be saying some true words. I play this. This is a first-person novel but as a person I want to put you first. It is an experimental thing I think should be done and it costs me less time doing it myself than looking up in the records of the surrealist writers who have already done it. It’s not about O understanding or even communicating some ideas I cooked up in my private kitchen. Maybe it’s about Otherness. About the struggle between the Stranger and his Conceptualization, a struggle the O stranger cannot win.

See what I am heading at? The world is the best therapy. Take my word for it. She can show you so much, you can feel big, you can feel small, you can see how big we are, you can see how small we are. Laughing. Smiling. Trying to live with an everlasting smile on my face that will not annoy anyone – that’s harder than it seems. A smile nobody wants to smash off your face. I don’t think it’s possible. What do you think? You never say anything back. A person that always smiles, she will inevitably become a pain in the ass won’t she? I am really wondering. And hoping.

The woman who was not Sara left yesterday.