Generational Dilemma...

Baby, We Need to Talk...

Picture by Chiqui - Moscow, 17.04.2011

A girl walks into a bar...

Picture by Chiqui @ Chinatown - Singapore. 19.12.2010 (ft. Meterina and Skido)

"A" and my newly friend "D" are having a 'little' drink when all of a sudden a random conversation led us into philosobeer:

A: So...do you know why the chicken crossed the road?
D: If it's not to get to the other side...why did the chicken cross the road?
A: Well, because it wanted to be on the other side first before the egg!
D: Stupid but funny.

ha-ha-ha

A: hey...and did you know there are more chicken in the world than human?
D: wow I never thought of that. You're always full of facts. That, I would have never guessed from you.
A: Thanks mate, but in fact....I'm just full of chit.
D: ...or beer. Cheers mate!
A: hahaha. Salud!

///
Chiqui

YET...

A lot of people complain about 2010 and they want it to end fast...me, in these last minutes, I just want to share with you that 2010 couldn't have been better. It was simply great!

Each day a new experience:

• I met great, no, amazing people. Some stayed, sometimes I left but I sure cherish the good memories.
• I traveled to unknown and indescribable places, including my heart.
• I made great dreams come true: Acting, Musical, Westerdok, Singapore, Buenos Aires...
• I created unforgettable memories.
• I shared some kisses. I hugged some more.

They say that laughter brings good luck...

Picture by Chiqui @ Buenos Aires - 24.12.2010

So here I leave you my best one. And wish you that 2011 becomes your best year yet!!!

Chiqui @ Buenos Aires - 24.12.2010

Love,

Chiqui

For Your Information

Picture by Carolina @ Hoofddorp - NL

Hey Boy, I don't want you to love me till the end of life.

I WANT YOU TO LIVE ME TILL THE END OF LOVE!!!

///
Chiqui

from My Olympus

Picture by Chiqui @ Home - 01.11.2010

Narcissus, there is no Echo in here...

...I do love you too

Chiqui

Dear Monkey...

Picture by Daniela - Amsterdam 9.10.2010

...don't see what I do

Can you tell me...

Picture by Woodleywonderworks from http://www.flickr.com/photos/wwworks/494416446/

"Chiqui is there a way to make caterpillars remain this way?"

"Why would you want to do that, dear?"

"Because I just swallowed a few and..."

"And...?"

"Now, just now that he's coming here...I wouldn't want them to turn into butterflies!"

Big brother is watching...

Picture by Chiqui @ Trouville - France 17.04.2010

...so be careful what you wish

Sight-Sigh-Side

Picture and design by Chiqui - Amsterdam 10.10.2010

Literal Sunday… the ambiance speaks for itself; the joys of the living, the sounds of the simplest thoughts bouncing in the wake of my eyes while watching the nothing go by, second by second, ray by ray in a day like today… where tomorrow will be looked and longed at as yesterday; streaming in the glimpse of the shadows of nature.

Between the existence of the absurd, the ducts of hopes, the invention of some (un)explanations for a written cosmos of my own; the encounter of silly readers of anecdotes from around the globe; the curious philosophies of the details, the delightful profoundness of the strange, the stillness of the feelings, the silence of the mind, the company of endless juvenile infatuation…the everlasting scent of affection: the best dish ever served to a passionate craving soul.

I Amsterdam - (sigh) - you stole my heart...sight by sight

Chiqui -.

XX/XY - A Compilation de Pensamientos

 Picture by Chiqui @ Mont Saint Michel - 18.04.2010

 "¿Sabes qué?" - dijo él. "No; no sé...cuéntame" - fue su pícara respuesta... "Eres sencillamente una especie digna de investigación"

Y entonces ella le susurró: "Amo la arena...¿no lo ves en mis alas?"

I can feel the magic simplicity, that one from those who live in two worlds of their own in the world of the others. That kind of magic that can only be identified by oblivion.

La magia de escribir.

Yo me inventaré mi propio final...cuando lo crea conveniente.

Veo a un señor que juraría era una mujer cuando se sentó frente a mí. Las personas mutan.

Kisses have no expiring date...but they do have a bar code. They are unique and each one of them contains information of the place where it was received, the deliverer and even the color of the sky in the exact moment it was felt.

Things do not mutate.

I just want to be next to you...at a heartbeat distance...for hours, and hours, and hours...and hours.....

Aunque no soy quién tú quieres que sea...soy yo quien te gusta a ti. y punto.

In the stomach of Paris there is some salmon...among others.

"Life is not short....life is very very long, the thing is that we'll spend it a long time as dead"

Chiqui

Mis(s) Ivies

Chiqui & Fripouille @ Eressos, Lesvos - Greece. 26.08.2010

I've seen pancakes smile at me, between 6am and a quarter to ten;

I've danced to the sound of the orange squeezer, hopping on one foot and showing my teeth;

I've felt lighter than air and softer as cotton between your arms, 
and I've glided out of them like I was made of breeze

I've seen the sand escape between my fingers and counted each grain on a glimpse;

I've felt the warm wind inside my favorite pj's sleeves;

I've smelled the salt in the air and I've dreamt of that magical place...once and again.

I've smiled in my dreams...and I've awaken next to them.

I've whispered millions of secrets to the pillows and made wishes to the stars.

I've become older and yet younger at heart.

I've lost a tear...and I've won a kiss.

I know right now...there's nothing I wouldn't miss.

Chiqui

The Science of Passion

Picture taken @ Paradiso, Amsterdam - backstage of Lleno de Flamenco - 13.06.2010


"We work in the dark - we do what we can - we give what we have. Our doubt is our passion and our passion is our task. The rest is the madness of art."

Henry James

doubt = passion; if our doubt equals our passion

passion = task;  and our passion equals our task

and the rest is the madness of art

then:

art = task + madness; the art is the sum of our tasks with madness

art - passion = madness;  which confirms that if art has no passion we're left to madness

art = doubt + passion; and that any doubt supported by passion leads to art

art = 2*doubt; no matter how much we doubt about things, it's still art

art = 2*passion; and of course with a double amount of passion

passion = 1/2 art; but even when half of the passion is art

passion = 1/2 task + 1/2 madness; there's still 50% task and 50% madness in it

doubt = 1/2 passion + 1/2 madness; and our doubts are founded in half of the passion and madness

so, by simple mathematics:

doubt = 1/2 passion + 1/2art - 1/2passion

which leads me to this conclusion:

"150% passion is half task and half art...the rest...is just a doubt. And madness...that's just a passion without the rest"

Chiqui

(and whatever you do, never give passion a rest)

///

Chiqui

Exposed...

Picture taken @ MACBA in Barcelona, 16-05-2010


I don't drink coffee although I love the smell of it. I like its taste and I might steal a sip from your coffee every now and then...but it gives me too much energy...you should be aware.

I don't like people drinking from my glasses unless I offer it...it could be the reason for me throwing a drink down the drain. I don't like by any chance people using my toothbrush --> this has no exception.
When I look at my watch...wait a minute...I never use a watch...it's not that I don't like them...I just don't seem to keep them working for long time...they either stop or break. So...when I look at someone else's watch or just when I look at the time and it's something funny like 12:34 or 21:12 or 01:34 I yell "make a wish". I'm always wishing...and believe me...they do come true.

I have rules and regulations. I am moody and I become a monster if I don't eat. I probably don't announce when I'm reaching the level of 20% (80% monster, 20% human) but you'll know because I start talking only about food. When I reach a level of 5% and we're not heading to or at a restaurant/kitchen/you-name-the-place-with-food: RUN.

I’m addicted to chocolate. Dark chocolate is my favorite one… actually the darker the better.I eat cold food when I'm supposed to warm it up if I'm hungry. There is no exception; in fact, I love to eat cold pizza. Even better if it is from the day before, but this has a particularity, it has to be cold from the fridge. I actually save a little piece of my pizza when I make it or order delivery, just to put it in the fridge and eat it the following day.

I sleep on a king size bed and I only use one little space of it…right at the right end of it. The rest of the bed is always occupied by many men…in fact…many men at the same time, I barely sleep without them; the last ones sleeping on it are: Stieg Larson, Jim Morrison, Carlos Ruiz Zafón and Yann Martel…but the actual man that always lies close to my pillow is the Little Prince. I read a lot. I collect books. If I enter a library I feel like I'm in Disneyland. I can stay there for hours without complain or until my human level reaches 2%. No joke.

I'm always wondering; I lose concentration in conversations very easily and start daydreaming. I have a terrible memory and people tell me a lot of secrets. Things I don't even want to know. They still tell me so...but I forget anyways.

I don't like planning. So if I ever do...I stick to it. I don't like to set appointments with many days in advance and even less fixing a whole schedule. I like being free in the choices and always keep a secret Plan B or Z (coming from the girl with no plans).

I'm scared of knives, razors and everything that cuts. I can’t live without my iPod. It’s a him. It’s called…just iPod…and I take it to work every day and since it’s getting old I always have to carry with the cable wherever I go to charge its battery.

I sleep with the doors open....just in case the monsters under my bed come out then I have where to run...(because of course I run faster than them). Sometimes I imagine that If I'm alone at home, the worst thing would be that I get locked inside the bathroom and that I die of starvation because my music is too loud and nobody would hear me since 5000 songs in my iPod would play for a couple of days in a row...so I don't close any door.

By the way…where’s my iPod?

To be continued...

Something to declare...

Picture taken @ Las Ramblas, Barcelona - 15/05/2010

I like to eat. I like to drink. I like to laugh; in fact I love to laugh until my belly hurts, until I run out of air, realize how stupidly I’ve been laughing and start laughing again. I don't like to lie. I'm terrible at it. I like to act but I don't like to lie....though sometimes I do make up a lot of truths. 

When I like something...I show it. When I like someone...I don’t. When I feel like I'm having a lot of fun with a guy, that everything's going right, I run away and hide. Always have...I confess I'm just scared to get hurt again. I flirt a lot. I normally never mean to do it; it just happens.

I like my own space. I like my own time and my own rules. I don't like walking with shoes inside of my bathroom and I hate stepping into a wet spot wearing socks. I'm germophobic, wear gloves to do the dishes and I really hate doing the dishes, it works like kryptonite on my powers,  so I normally pile them up until I find some time/strength to do it.

I like to sing. I like to sing a lot even when I don't do it right...I enjoy singing out loud with the music at intolerable volume on a lazy morning or an early afternoon; especially if I have to do the dishes. Some days I believe I’m Janis Joplin and some others Shakira, especially when I sing in the shower (and spill the gel). I make bad jokes...and I laugh at them. I'm definitely not a morning person. I am a sex in the morning person. That'll do.

I'm a language freak and I can't stand misspellings. I believe I somehow was part of the Babel tower event...only that I hid very well; watched everything from my own corner, got hit by lighting and disappeared in a sigh. In the meanwhile, I was wandering in outer space where I met the Little Prince. I came back to Earth in 1983 and I'm still 25 although my soul is 1301 years old.

When it's raining and I'm at home and it's a Sunday and I have nothing to do...it is ok. When it's raining and I have someone to hug…it's better; it doesn't matter what day of the year it is and if I have something else to do. Hugging is always (and there is no discussion about always) priority 1. Kisses are priority 1 1/3. I like kisses. I love kissing and I adore being kissed...but hugs can definitely melt me down.

I have many (did I say many?) friends. Friends that I consider as siblings, we travel and get drunk together. We even sleep in the same bed if necessary and we're still friends....there is not such a thing as bad friends for me so I don't go with grays on this. If I like you, I like you; but I don't want to be your friend, I have too many and it would make things more complicated than what it already is. I already exceeded my friend's quota today.

I love the stars...and I wish I could see them from the Netherlands. Somehow I get marveled when I travel and I get to see them again...I probably won't tell you but when I look at them I make a wish.

...to be continued.

3 minutes with...

Picture taken @ Amsterdam, my window...someday last fall 2009

It’s raining cats and dogs
I’m stuck at work
My computer doesn’t want to work
And these are the 5 questions I asked to myself at this exact time

What if…:

…you were a song?
“I’m only happy when it rains”

…you were a fruit?
“I would definitely look like a watermelon, I would smell like pineapple, I’d have the texture of a fig and I’d definitely taste like mango………(hmm or lemon)”

…you were an animal?
“I’d look like a zebra, I’d bite like a tiger, I’d eat like an elephant, I’d walk like a duck and I’d fight like a bull”

…you were a drink?
“Need I say Margarita?”

…you were a star?
“Next question please”

…you were a board game?
“I’d be...I am a Twister”

End of session…off to a meeting.
Ciao!
Chiqui.

Rainbow-Aide

Picture taken @ Theater Perdu backstage for the show 'Stories from Home'. Amsterdam 08/05/2010

Dear Amigos!

Like every Wednesday here I am to offer you the recipe of the week.

Oh! I looooove spring! Don’t chu all?

The kids are playing, the flowers are awaking and the sun is smiling.

I remember back in the days where I used to live in the ETERNAL spring of 25 degrees EACH day…ALL.YEAR.LONG!

I may not have seen many flowers back then, but I used to play a lot.

And with playing came of cooooourse, the sweating, and with the sweating came the thirst…and: THANK GOD it also came Grandma along cos she used to make the best lemonades ever!

She used to sing and shake her salsa booty in such a waaaay…that could even get 'honey' out of each lemon she pressed.

She would stop her choreography and singing every now and then to look at me while drawing and ask me “What’s the coloooor of mi voice?”

Mmm, yes. My Abuelita would make me special colored lemonade each time I felt I wanted to color the day.

“If life gives you lemons…YOU’VE GOT TO MAKE: lemonade” that’s right. That’s what people say. But granny used to add while grabbing my cheeks “don’t forget to give a color back to life each day:  strawberries for red, mint for green, mangoes for yellow…” and my ALL TIME favorite… “grenadine for pink”.

Then pouring ONE, ONE litter of fresh water per half a dozen of lemons; and after adding a lot of ice she’d continue by saying “there’s always an easy way of making ice…but the real secret lies in knowing how to break it!”

And finally while crushing and crushing the ice into little pieces she’d always, and there is no discussion with always, right?, finish with this line:

“If Heaven gives you rain, make a rainbow colored lemonade and you’ll fade the drops away!”

Salud!

The Airport

Picture taken by Chiqui from the book "Sex, Drugs and Cocoa Puffs" by Chuck Klosterman

I - Genesis

The first time she saw him, was when she felt a shadow looking over her shoulder, like someone who just bends over to get the scent of a flower’s perfume or someone who wants to listen to the details of an accidentally funny conversation.

She was chatting vigorously and suddenly pausing while entertaining the people surrounding her. He couldn’t understand what she was talking about. It was certainly not his language. He went back to the bar, bought another beer without taking his eyes from that little crowd, looked around, took two big sips and sat in the stool behind hers.

She noticed him, not only because she felt his grey eyes burning a hole on her neck on his first attempt, but also because her friends giggled when they realized he was pushing his head back to try to listen to their conversation (or at least that’s what she claims)

She turned around and asked him “do you speak Spanish?”

He said “No; are you Spanish?”

Her friends all smiled and headed to the bar.

“No” – she replied.
“Latina?” -  He insisted with a grin that covered his whole face.
She muted, took a sip of her wine and with a little smile shook her head.
“Were you speaking Spanish?”
“No” – one more sip.
“Do you speak Spanish at all?”
“Actually...” - short sip joined by a wink - “...not”

“Then why you asked me if I did?”

“I was hoping you could teach me some”

And so it all started. Both laughed when she said she was Rumanian. He said he was Swedish but had been living in Chicago for already 12 years: “another American visitor”, as he used to call himself.

“Usually visitors don’t last longer than 12 months; I guess you really like it here”

“Let me get you a drink and maybe if I’m lucky I’ll get to tell you more about it; merlot?”

“Rioja”

“As in very strong?”

“As in very Spanish”

to be continued
…

Next Stop

Of all the things I’m always amused of when I travel by train is the coincidence of always choosing the seat that makes me go riding backwards. Sometimes I wonder if the unconscious me tries to tell me something or if I really enjoy the feeling of watching everything I’m leaving behind. It’s like a slow motion movie of my life winding back. Every day; the same places looking different from a different seat, from a different window, from a different height.

It’s not the first time I consider myself to be running away from something; or someone. It’s hard nowadays to get me attached to anything. I guess it’s the price I pay for being a gypsy in the whole sense of the word. It’s not just an oddity that I always have a suitcase ready with the essentials to any kind of trip, yes,  that is a tooth brush, passport, a good book, a swimming suit, a sweater, some Band-Aids, chocolate and yes, of course, an eyebrow’s tweezers, after all, I’m still a girl. ‘Always ready’, as a girl scout, that’s my motto (or at least that’s what my wise mom says). Not caring what I’m leaving behind, just where I’m heading to – that’s what I think. ‘Determination!’ Um-hum, that’s what I heard that old man say to me once while queuing in a bank  just to get my last statements ready for the next destination.

I can still taste the voices of my friends; I can still smell my excitement of embarking in a new adventure. I can still feel the tears of my beloved ones rolling down against my cheeks, so cold and yet so warm inside. My family, my siblings from another parents, my streets, my shopping malls, my trees, the mountain that said hi to me every morning and every evening before going to sleep, right before checking my last emails and going thru the last text messages on my mobile; the sound of the late night drivers, the wandering lonely souls, the big time partygoers or even the early workers. All: familiar lullabies to my dreams.

I wonder when I’ll realize it’s all left behind. At least I know it’s a decision made, on the right time, and I’d dare to say even the right place. Perhaps I like to watch it all passing thru my window, right in front of me, and meticulously take a mental picture of it. Like the daily pursue of something I haven’t got yet, I know it’s hard to understand, but I’m getting there; like the carrot in front of my eyes, it’s automagically happening, I’m moving forward and watching the past beside me, smiling at me, teaching me the little things I overrated before, vanish into the grin of an unfamiliar face. At the end I know where I’m going. Or at least I know where I want to be. Everyday I’m getting closer to it, I can feel it. I see, I remember, I move on. Maybe riding backwards in a train is not such a bad thing anyways; it gives me the feeling of doing it again, and again, and again. Next time it’ll be different. Next time I’ll look the other way. Next stop is near I fear; next stop is getting clear; next stop is where I get out… next stop is home.

To the friend I never had...

Picture taken @ the NYPL - March.07.2007

May your hands never lose the ability of crying;

May your eyelids never meet frustration again.

Spread the fever; silence the hunch;

You're not alone...

there's

still

hope

- A.

A six words worth facebook status

I wrote 50k words in 30d.
Then I wrote a six-word memoir:
"There is never a happy ending"
I got a comment on it.
It's from someone I don't know.
In more than 6 it said:
"So sad and jaded for one so young and somewhat pretty".
The stranger's net name is Spaceghost.
Curiosity on his comment I felt.
I went to check his memoirs.
Spaceghost had written just one memoir: 
"Dad, I miss you! Love Lucifer"
I'd make it a facebook status. 
But the story was too long.
Finally I decided to solve it.
I'd make another six word memoir:

"Jaded? Young? Always.
But...Somewhat pretty?!"