Mama Bear

You never truly know how good is your stuff until somebody else judges it. Readers make the piece something else. Until then, it’s just your shit. How you went about saying shit nobody cared enough to read. Yet, your stubbornly kept going. As if you should keep your mind clear of all that fuzz out there. The shit. You know. YOU KNOW.

So I’ve run away from that perspective of my thing. My work has been exposed only to a certain number of friends that I’ve shared this with. Friends of mine. Family. But nothing has ever happened from there. There’s no movement. No comments. At least not real ones. I only seem to have the edge for spammers. Somehow they get to me. As they do. And they come in to fish. And they place their bait. And I just read for leisure entertainment. It makes for shitty literture. Poor writting. And good enough marketing. You know how it is. It’s a numbers game. You just need to pull some lame results in terms of answer intention. Who’s biting?


Mr. Nobody

That’s life. Right there. Like a mean joke. A kick on the balls. A used up joke. Gum with no taste and barely any elasticity left. We are on famelic cows. It’s a vicious virtuos cycle scheme. And we iterate until we support bootstrapping. Eternity levels. Completeness theorem. Asynthothic truths. Enough rethoric. Classes every week. A turnover meet. Life is going to change once you join this NEW club.

You see, I always come back to the same old places. If I do my labeling right, it means that I’ve done the work. I’ve run the mile. And the system is ready for my communion. In a brand new religion you get various number of free passes. A sort of cortessy among wise wo and men. No hay malas miradas. Ni del napolitano, ni del malagueño. Los tratos de palabra se cierran con diferentes condiciones según los niveles de confianza que manejemos a niverl personal. Desde chavitos. En cualquier etapa de nuestras vidas. Incluso antes. Cuando buscamos qué chingaos pasa con todo. Y la gente. Y nosotros. Nuestro despertar. Como el de los niños cuando vuelvan a la montaña. El anhelo de un espacio público reconstituido. Como quién se paseó en un pasado para retratar su libertad. Su hegemonía sagrada. Su caracter urbano y rural, como si la complementariedad de elementos presentes nos completen películas que no tengan como tema central la colisión entre giles.

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