22 dic. 2018

Man on the pink corner


Remigio Hardoy passed by that corner every day, every*.

Mondays to Fridays, and also Saturday mornings, since he worked four hours in the mornings of that day, which back then was known as "media jornada", or English Saturday, working days and hours that were strictly regulated by the municipal authorities.
 

The usual indumentary of Remigio Hardoy -who worked in a dim, subterranean and gray office in the center of the city- consisted of three suits (gray, crême, and brown), three shirts (bone, pale gray and verde-agua), two pairs of black shoes, two neckties (marron-caca and azul-cielo), and, if the day was rainy, an old, white raincoat, which the time turned into a sort of dirty-yellow piece of crap.

Hardoy called it perramus, or impermeable, and his mother usually washed said attire on Sunday afternoons -especially during the warm months-, though the yellow tone of the raincoat couldn't be white-washed anymore, not even using Limzul.

Yes, Remigio Hardoy -who was 56- lived with his mother who, besides widow, was a venerable old lady, who prepared a copious quantity of ravioles every Sunday morning, because her other son, Serapio Hardoy always came to lunch.

After the lunch, Remigio Hardoy usually went brusquely to sleep (a nap "to help the digestion", as he used to say), so he turned the radio on and -listening to the soccer commentator-, he fell asleep for several hours.
His brother Serapio stayed in the ample kitchen with his mother watching old movies on TV.

Serapio's wife avoided any visit to her mother-in-law after a bitter argument related to a Seat 600 1969 which Serapio bought (following Remigio's suggestion), ignited verbal altercation in which she and both brothers were involved, including scenes of pugilism and physical violence.


But Remigio Hardoy kept on passing by that pink corner, wearing his suits color shit, walking with diffident pace, and handling his démodé and brown briefcase with sweaty hand

the same thing same he did for the last 30 years

30 long years, since he started working in that office, when he was 26.




The morning after (when Hardoy celebrated his 31th year of uninterrupted labor in that office), he woke up vertically, standing, on his feet: he was on the street.

Astonished, Hardoy saw the cars passing by in front of his eyes, and made an inhuman effort to wake up, but he was awake.

His eyes still were stuck together with dried rheum, when he realized that he was on the pink corner which he saw every morning, though everything was seen from a weird angle:
instinctively, he tried to remove the morning rheum from his eyes, but he realized that he hadn't hands.

Still sleepy and slightly numb, Hardoy takes an incredulous and hysterical look at his own body.

Remigio Hardoy envisioned mentally the horrible scream that escaped from his soundless throat: he was not on the corner, he was the corner.


Three seconds later, submersed in-to the most abominable desperation, being something inert and still alive, something monstrous, mysterious and absurd, Remigio Hardoy, the corner, beheld the other Remigio Hardoy, passing by in front of his eye-less stare.





























* The correlation between this little narration and the Greek myths, in which the protagonist is turned into inanimate object is evident, possibly Remigio Hardoy was turned into a corner (this is, into wall and sidewalk), to be rewarded for some terrestrial achievement, like a prize in which he earned an unwanted immortality, an incorrect compensation, an error in the informatic system of the celestial bureaucracy.

For example this nymph Callisto, she took a vow of chastity in the service of the goddess Artemis, and is impregnated by Zeus on a prairie.
As a soft punishment, Artemis turns her into a she-bear: the chastity vote cannot be violated.

When Callisto gives birth, Hera, from Olympus realizes [sic], she gets furious because her husband cheated on her with a miserable nymph, and urges Artemis to kill the nymph (who is a she-bear now) and to kill the son, too.
Diana-Artemis is forced to obey the Queen of Olympus: she kills the nymph-bear and the newborn baby with a shot of her silver bow

Right away, Zeus, replete of (humane?) pity, sets Callisto and the baby in the sky, as the Ursa Major and the Ursa Minor, close to Libra.

Being turned into a constellation was, perhaps, a prize in which the love deleted the adultery and the broken vows, justified them with its immense warmth, and made them disappear.

A reward, product of some secret merit, or product of the pity.

What no-one says is if the reward was wanted, and there is, precisely, the crux of the matter.




11 oct. 2018

A passage to Madusa?



The night was sweet in Madusa, its red sands flew with a wind that didn't come from Heaven... the night was wind and silence, though the silence was not absolute...
Suddenly a glass-y scream cut the night in two, it was a scream of Captainess Lita Ford coming from the spaceship.
Captain Chevy Chevrolet ran to the spaceship, alarmed, some machinal, cyborgian, inhuman noises could be heard mixed with Lita Ford's screams.

When Capt. Chevrolet arrived to the spaceship's hall, the spectacle paralyzed him: a huge and silvery automaton come out of nothing penetrated Lita Ford anally with its big and steely penis.

The strange apparatus emitted a sibilant, metallic buzz, like the noise of an engine
the noise was made by the automatic movement of its penis: Capt. Chevy Chase jumped on the lecherous roboot, but he was pushed away by the monstrous cyborg, falling on the floor like a sack full of potatoes and losing consciousness.


Hours later, maybe days, maybe weeks, Capt. Chevy Chase woke up illumed by the luminous morning light of the conch of Percivale, the closest sun: Lita Ford and the robot were not there.
Percivale was a mid-sized sun, which due to the special conditions of Madusa's atmosphere, looked like green-esque for thë human retina

the sky of Madusa, on the other hand, had an always pellucid and profound color blue, much bluer than any sky seen by the man's eye from the Earth. It'ss difficult to explain how blue were the skies of Madusa

it was a saturated blue, so much that it could not be seen directly without having a headache.
This color was due to the particular atmosphere combined with a radiant energy with wavelengths of approximately 7.420 to 7.490 nanometers.

Under the rays of Percivale, Chevrolet arrived at the gates of the tenebricose platinum pyramid, one of its six doors was curiously open, from the inside, eerie electrostatic radio-noises were emitted.



Six minutes later the astronaut was lost in the unidirectional coldness of a silvery corridor without an end... suddenly, Capt. Chase wished he was in NYC, Long Island, the 5th Avenue perhaps, or Paris, or maybe London, or even Uruguay, or Amazonia, or the worst shithole on Earth... but on Earth!

... While he was crying bitterly, missing the planet Earth and all its miseries, a strange noise that seemed to come from the last abysses of Sheol was heard...


Six minutes later, like in an image from the Lower World, Captainess Ford's torso was hanging from a metallic harness turned upside down

she was alive

her arms and legs were brutally mutilated, as she was anally and vaginally penetrated by two automata
the room was full of shouts, hüman screams and the deafening buzz of these relentless machines which were shattering Lita Ford's sex... the interface of the cyborgs was burning and emitting a strong plasticmetallic smell.

At this point more aütomatä entered the nefarious hall and captured Captain Chevy Chase, proceeding to hang him as well, subsequently, his öwn mutilation was served... from the distance, if some human ear could hear all this, it would sound like one million enraged wasps burned alive in their own nest.

If some hüman ear could hear... If some hüman ear.
If some... If.


But the avernal corridors of Madusa and its nonsensical pyramids are far away from human ears. 

One thousand light years away.





























A PASSAGE TO MADUSA?




4 jun. 2018

1000 km en l'Union Soviétique







1000 km en l'Union Soviétique

1000 km en l'Union Soviétique



Bringing stale wheat from l'Alsace, the train is long and red like a steel penis from Infernos: damn Citroens, damn Citroens and Körting color TV sets.



We are going through the fields of radioactive potatoes, sown with old water and saliva from paranoid cows, to Gorki we are going




where else? Ah?



To 1976, we go, to 1976.




6 ene. 2018

Hoy todo el hielo en la ciudad








The angel of retribution's iron wings displayed a camp of ice on the city today.

This German ángel, broken his ankles, dressed in a black wool's tunic? Himself: you know him.

His curled hairs did sway slowly in the blizzards that himself created, and for a while, his deeds were not matter of ulterior judgement: for a while, the time did stand still (phrase which contains a paradox, as you can see).

Standing at the city gates, he beheld this Babylon with fury: the angel stopped the Sun on its path, and the sleepers who, slowly, started waking up, realized that the Sun was an absent friend that dawn: and it was in the middle of the Summer... the population was running out of barley.

The sunrise was verified at 7 PM.

That day, the roosters crowed in the evening, the roosters.

Along with Saint Joseph of Arimathea, the bread and the belated milk arrived to Anglia
and beyond, to the Channel Islands, to this side

the angel left, taking all the ice toward the Germany, homeland of the ices.

That year was called The Green Year, because of the the green eyes of the angel, and his furious stare

the ice was green too, de verdad.

Saint Joseph of Arimathea returned walking slowly, full of peace, on an eternally sunny and dusty path, toward the celestial Ieru Shalom; where only the circumcized enters: 
and the goy and the dog and the whore, they are rejected, and die fulminated at the gates by the belated and saint milk of the barbate wise men, who dwell on auric thrones, Heaven above.

Fulminated at the gates
auric thrones
with valence 3
and they're only part of the Glory.



The angel of retribution's iron wings displayed a camp of ice on the city today.

This German ángel, broken his ankles, dressed in a black wool's tunic? 
Himself: you know him.









4 ene. 2018

El mistery of Tito Flauplata




The day 6 of Hapril of 1.968, Tito Flauplata sat comfortably on his sofa (he called it canapé), and started watching the spectacular "Johnny Allon Show", on Tevedos, broadcasted live from the Talcahuano Hotel, in London, England.

During the show, Allon intonated Beatles and Vanilla Fudge songs with ignited vocal cords, songs that little-by-little started invading Tito Flauplata's ears, and finally driving him insane


the songs, insane




INSANE, INSANE! AH! AH!
































That night, strange, strange, very very strange reflections were seen that night

because such as light, radiant heat, sound, or an image, that is reflected came out from Tito Flauplata's ignited, incinerated, dazzling, boiling, protruding, piribitiflautic TV screen:

the neigh-bors could see from the window the neigh-bors:

the neighbors-Tito Flauplata/Tito Flauplata-the neighbors



the neighbors-Tito Flauplata/Tito Flauplata-the neighbors



the neighbors-Tito Flauplata/Tito Flauplata-the neighbors



the neighbors-Tito Flauplata/Tito Flauplata-the neighbors



the neighbors-Tito Flauplata/Tito Flauplata-the neighbors



the neighbors-Tito Flauplata/Tito Flauplata-the neighbors









No-one-ever saw Tito Flauplata again.








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