Tuesday, February 24, 2009

Shoplifted these words from...


Dearest Mr. X,

(I'm having dreams about you...)

I know everything is always the same. I know I always tell you the same things, using the same words. There is nothing I can do about it, it is unavoidable. It has not changed, I guess it never will. When something does not change, how can I express myself differently? The only thing left for me to do is scream(aboutyou) and try to see if I can call you back to me, if I can make you concrete in my house, my purse, my shoes, everywhere. But you are never real. You are, but here you are not. Here you are madness, here you are fever. And my body aches, my heart skips beats. So I go on with my monologues, trying to see if talking to myself I can reach you, can whisper in your ear.

And I have this habit of thinking everything I see in you is about me -- this habit of mirroring everything I feel when I am here, locked behind these doors, me, my secrets and you, this scent that just does not go away. I read and I think and I conclude that it is always me, just like here it is always you, always you, even when it could not be you, it should not. But it is. And I cannot help it. That is what I said, you are insanity, you are fever. And mirrors.

There is always this longing, there is always something inside that screams (screamsaboutyou) your name when everything else is silent. Like a disease, a curse, there is something, there is you and your presence, everything that will not fade.

I know there are times in which we do not talk (dowereallyhaveto?) for a while, but, in a way or another, it does not matter. There is a silent communication, some sort of morbid telepathy that connects me to you and that just will not me be free. But then, at the same time, I allow myself to be possessed by this ghost, by this obsession of what I could have had, of what I can have one day. It is almost like hope, like a dream, like a desire that will never be fulfilled, maybe that is why I cling to it so often and so desperately. And then I think to myself and ponder if everything is worth it, if I am not hallucinating. But then the fever comes back and my body aches, screaming your name, saying that however much this may hurt me, that such pain is what makes me alive, is what makes me breathe. Living and longing for this desire, for the day in which we will talk again, that day in which I will not be able to let you go again, in which I will talk for hours, and I will be drunk with your presence, swimming in your aura.

I'm having dreams about you. Wannascreamaboutyou.


Sunday, February 22, 2009

week endSS

Don't wanna talk about business. I wanna post photos of fun. These are some shoots from the last two weeks: there's a winery visit, a lunch out, and a wedding.

Tuesday, February 10, 2009

Last night's dinner: Scrambled Ostrich Egg* and Caprese Salad

*Thanks Lucas for providing us the egg. Not that he had laid that egg (LOL) but because his family has an ostrich ranch and he gave us that huge master piece.

1/2 pound fresh bufallo mozzarella cheese
3 medium ripe tomatoes
Fresh basil leaves
Chopped fresh garlic (1 clove)
Freshly ground pepper
1/4 cup extra-virgin olive oil
Balsamic Vinegar at taste

How to make it:
Chopp and crush the garlic clove and add balsamic vinegar, a pinch of salt, and olive oil. Peel the tomatoes, slice them and let them marinate. Slice the mozzarela and tear fresh basil leaves. In a semi-circular shape, fix the salad on the side of a serving plate, alternating mozzarella slices, with basil leaves, and sliced tomatoes, overlapping for effect.
Add more salt and freshly ground pepper to taste. Pour some more olive oil and vinegar to create a seasoned look.

Schredded mozzarela cheese
Grated Parmesan Cheese
1 diced large Spanish onion
1 diced green bell pepper
Sliced fresh mushroom
Black pepper
Olive oil
1 cup of milk
1 ostrich egg

How to make it:
Chop the onion, mix it with sliced mushrooms and diced bell pepper, season it and put it aside. In a large bowl, crack the ostrich egg (ask for help if it is needed), and beat it and stir it thoroughly adding salt, parmesan cheese, and milk (heavy cream can be also used). Meanwhile, heat butter and olive oil in a pan. Medium heat works fine. Place that mixture in this hot HUGE frying pan (I used a paella pan which was the largest I got at home). And with a silicone spatula, I gently scrambled the cooking egg. When it is almost cooked, it is needed to drag the egg to the side in order to leave some room in this hot pan. Then pour the veggies and let them cook on the side. When the onion is translucid, mix everything gently. Turn off the heat and sprinkle the schredded cheese. Serve it hot.

Sunday, February 8, 2009

"Mis Conejitos" de Ecuador

Estava con una gripe y pensaba que no podía estar mas jodida. Entonces, buscava algo en la internet para reir… y encontré "LOS CONQUISTADORES". Me compadezco con las personas deste grupo musical de Ecuador. Creo que para hacer esta cancion/ videoclip/ coreografia hay que estar muy enfermo. Por favor, fijaros en lo feo que puede llegar a ser el cantante del grupo. Pero no feo de estos que dices, "che… es que es un poco difícil de mirar", no no, FEO de cojones. Tiene una boca que parece que duerma con un plato metido en la cara todas las noches. Pero no es el único, sus coreógrafos también tienen sus puntos, aquí no se salva ni dios. Y habéis visto sus trajes…por el amor de dios, que llevan unos gorros con orejas de conejo y un rabo a juego todo eso acompañado de un precioso baile al mas puro estilo de pisadores de uva.


i'm so going back there... Where? AFRICA lol

No kidding. I've been already arranging my next vacation. It'll take place in Jeffrey's Bay, darlings. I've had enough of winter.

My office is a "Horder's Shrine"

...and I am so proud of it! Ha.🎉🎉🎉