29 september 2006

A day in which I realize that growth stops when you are burnt to a crisp. Wilda Fuentes-Bills, my beautiful grandmother, did not age another year this year, although her spirit has. I truly believe and want to believe that we live on. The memory of her hasn't faded, because those that love her keep her close.
Fuck! I love Cerveza Clara! Just went to the MACBA (got a "tres mesa" abonement for it) and now sitting outside of a café here.
Eh, it's not Wilda's birthday, but 2morrow it will be. Still I've felt that I wanted to write about her. Now I have.
Choir part in Paranoid Android. It's not exactly Choir, it's Thom's voice sampled, saying "Om." Fuck it's beautiful though.
Right now I feel like writing. Perhaps it's the beer. I want to get drunk with Irina. Uno is absolutely amazing. God I love her. It must be nostalgia, but right now nothing seems more perfect.

15 minutes to great bell toll. This is the end of a more productive day at least, although the Internet is dead now. I suppose I'm not going to get to talk to Irina today. Or tomorrow. Fuck. Well, I'm in love obviously. Irina. God I love you.
Sentimental drivel.
Well I wasn't asking anyone was I? And she appreciates my emo bullshit drivel. And she likes Muse. God I just find her amazing. Plus she's Russian. 34C. Hot. As. Fuck. And she's totally fallen for me.
10 minutes now. I need to use the loo. Badly. Wtf? And I owe her a good excuse for this. God I love her.
I'm obsessing.
But she's totally hot for me.
But she's like your twin!
And that's a bad thing?
Are you in love?
Yes. How can I prove it? Ugh. Is there an explanation? There is nothing to explain, Thom Yorke once sang. And so it is with this. Open Pick is that.
And for whatever reason, I feel like I need her and only her.
She's amazing. She knows she can be honest with me. And I'm so glad she's alive. So fucking glad.
I fucking love her.
Which makes me sad.
And her birthday is the 25th of July which makes her a week older than me. Wierd. Still in a 29 July September mindset.