What would I do if I really did what I wanted

I am.

This is it.



Making up stories.

For no special reader.

For myself.

For tomorrow.

For eternity.

As we are lonely here.

As we watch fascist loose their minds.

Trying to take us down.

Violence drives them.

And we long for justice, freedom and a good life.

Whatever that is.

Until one day we make it through the injustices.

And we stick our head out of the shithole.

And breath as if we deserve the break.

Yet others don’t get it.

And what am I to do?


And white supremacy.

Spanish white.

Color blind.

Personal bias.

Power structure.

In which level was I born into?

How much of the current shit is on me?

How do I get out a cry…


No more…

Let’s take this other route:

I have a plan.

A better plan.

One that makes sense.


A NEW model.

A NEW América.

A Mexican dream.

Mexican dreamers are higher up in food the chain nowadays.

Wait until you see what they have come up with.

You’ll fall in love too.

Stop worrying.

One day you will die.

And so will I.

Not just today.

Not just the way you have been told.

Explicitedly or implicitedly.

Book your agendas.

A NEW narrative is on its way.

At least this is my truth.

My biased truth.

My soul’s redemption.





The script is but a tool.

A way to move forward.

A multiversity stunt.

In NEWLA, one day, one mexican filmmarker will go up to receive an award for having changed our perspective: through futbolart.

A film is enough.

The writing of it.

Scriptwriting is enough.

Much more than copywriting.

But you are somehow forced to do both.

Depending on which deamons you pray to.

Depending on who’s attention are you targetting.

I am just another route to where you are going.

I could hold your attention continuosly.

And never take anywhere.

Not anywhere YOU want to go.

Here we go where I long.

Not special place.

But my own.

It’s heartbeat.

A song.

A poets crack.

A snack.

A bust.

A pose.

A pic.

A dick.

A tellers fall.

A lie.

A foe.

A hunt.

A sea.

A hug.

A mug.

A dream.

I am a Mexican dreamer.

How can’t I stop dreaming?

Fascist don’t like what I say.


The phrase is punch’em.

Germans saw them rise.

It’s appealing to not participate.

It’s appealing to just stand there.

But if we do, and say nothing: shit will fall on our head.

It fascists take over, it’s only a few of them violent fools with guns and the spirit of violence what will allow them to come in a shit on the deliverance of the people’s democratic choice. It’s how democracy works. It’s been the USA number one product to the world. Beside violence itself. And pushing on other owner’s of the land LAW and GUN. Think a minute about the history of the western world. Europe is war. And NEW europe, the USA is conquest. Northernlanders. There where the Spanish couldn’t bear the winters. And those initial land transaction in terms of property. Owning the land. That seemed to be the scheme. And from then on civilization stood up and cried: we are all one.


That’s what you say.

Where did you get your facts?

Who’s feeding you this bullshit?

Where did you go to school?

What kind of patrons do you serve?

Who’s your daddy?

I rather not.

I prefer to find another corner stone.


Away from all this shit.

Allow me to participate in your current debate.

It might just be my own misleading view of history.

Shit, it took me 44 years to get here.

And this ship is sinking.

We are looking our bully neighbor taking his shit up to the public space.

Someone ought to tell it as it is.

But democracies, estates, have their own tools.

They may used against it.

Lationamericans know.

They’ve used the military to sneak into the backyard of THEIR mainland.

América is delusional.

We must aknowledge that as a continent to move forward.

And we have many voices.

Not just one.

But simplicity has taken us down a path in which we much heil the great big white in power to allow ourselves a little bit of your kind of glory.

A bullshit shot.

And we are drunk on that.

We have fallen into your adiction.

And we are tying to market ourselves.

In your dreamland.

We have stated that the Internet was a place for ALLS to be.

And we’ve understood our togetherness.

As we rise up the ladder.

As we come to age.

It’s solo coming to age story about a boy who is still dreaming that first dream he had: to be a futbolartist. And on its way, conquer the NEW world.

Welcome to my NEW world.

I’ve been expecting you.

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