Carlos & Friend

Because so many things are shown to us through the path we live, it may be valid to wonder about the idleness of our silence. Is there nothing left to say? Is there nothing left to see? There is everything out there where thought believes, and there's everything inside, rotting (as Baudelaire said of course) while we try to polish the being that can't be defined by words; not even by that word some people call soul.

Lately I have been starting to think some things are not so real as we think they are, materially speaking. The spirit guides us through our journey. When our spirits are lost, we must know our ancestors will always be there to tell us who we are... I don't want to sound that corny, it's just we actually are our ancestor's birthmarks, burden or legacy -whatever you wish to call it- It is hard sometimes to find the way out. Specially when you have been inside for a long, long time.

I cannot even understand it... For more info go to this link PS Also thanking Count Duckula

I had Two dreams, on Two different nights. Where sea was just out of control Where I had to swim out of it Did it. Knew I could. When walking by Trapped was Alice In the jungle through the glass. Nothing now, I have. Anyway, I think I will start to post more dreams, probably to get them out of my mind. Is it possible to understand them?

I try to create an image Lurk in the deepest cave of the unconscious Found a tree A leafy tree Growing in the dark Waiting to be found... The Pig Influenza It is strange to find that image in my mind, and at the same time live the paranoia through the supermarket corridors. Mexican Anthrax. Life doesn't cost a breathing mask, but it costs a cheap tampion. Then, we're afraid of dying. Mechanical survival mode. All the things we made and lived we don't want them to disappear. I would fuck it all. It is funny to sneeze next to a man in the Wal-Mart line, and put him nervous about anything [such as getting the flu]. In the end... what does this tree mean? This is a letter my friend Manuel sent today. He felt like writing some visceral stuff. It is written in spanish: Hey Juan! Espero la estés pasando bomba en tierras vancouverianas y que el frío ya haya cedido un poco... Ayer se acabaron oficialmente mis vacaciones y regresé a SLP, que se ha convertido en uno de las ciudades