Asesinato en la Calle Omicron/ Murder in Omicron Street

Murder in Omicron Street

I killed him. I avenged all those months of invisibility. Of being an everyday man. Of going to work a day just like today, of being shaved and having my hair cut and organized, with a flawless face, of wearing with false pride my blue trouser clean and ironed and shiny black shoes similar to a rain puddle created on my feet … o and must never forget my photo check with my 20 years towering over me and the face of a madman who the everyday machine forgot  to gave its minimum wage salary.

I avenged having to open the door and go down the iron stairs at 7:30 am, going down in a spiral, from Monday to Friday, and always being careful to avoid tripping. I have avenged having to board the everyday bus, reading the everyday gazette, watching the everyday news at 6:00 am and waking up to the everyday rooster that is the same as a clock on the roof.

I killed him with the everyday knife, the same one he used to slice the everyday bread and smear it with everyday butter.

¡In my hands he bleeds, the everyday man! The epilepsy, the agony, the blood going down his mouth, the eyes that aren’t eyes, the face that is far from being face.

¡I finally killed him, I am sure of it!

I’m tired of seeing his face, to see the motionless remains, the uncertainty of death and crime. I opted to wrap him in old newspaper, wrapping the cadaver in everyday news, wrapping his torso with the yesterday suicide in a hotel lost in the morning fog of Lima, wrapping his extremities with police abuse and corruption in the ministries and the fucking capitalist system, wrapping his back with the economic statics and political polls, re-wrap it with social injustice, with the retired who die waiting in line, the sick and children who the only thing they have in life is a rare disease called neglect, the judges who become rich and the clergy who prostitute paradise. The good ones are few and fit in my tiny flat, with room to spare.

After what it seems to be a eternity, I finally finish wrapping his body as a statue of newspaper, as a work of art of what you read before going to work or what you see at night before going to bed, everything wrapped up, each of his hairs, nails, the tattoo on his shoulder, the scar on the knee, its foots and even the roads he has walked upon. Then the body disappears into a large black plastic bag. I gave it to the clouds in exchange for one day dedicated only to myself …
I killed him, yes
¡I’ve killed him!
¡I’ve killed him!

The everyday knife has stopped being an  everyday thing. Now he is on the table dancing the tango …

Dances Tango the mother fucker.

One moves away, another one takes place

What?

Never mind… What I wanted to talk about is World of Warcraft really. Yes, and no, it’s not a hate post.I play the game myself, played/play/play. Now since I a year ago I gone broke, no more money to play the lovely horrific game. Not a problem I thought, and so it wasn’t because I moved on to a brilliant private server, which lacked a lot but worked surprisingly well. Months went on, I got through the horrible experience of leveling and soon became the richest player probably, if you call 95k gold rich that is. Now all went fine and dandy, I enjoyed playing my protection paladin, raiding, doing achievments, being a whore and all that. But soon it all was destined to change.

As I set out to level my rogue I quickly understood that I can’t b arsed to level anymore. Leveling my paladin and a mage just took so much energy out of me that I couldn’t be bothered no more. So I came up with a perfect plan, I’ll let my buddy level my rogue for me? Right? Sine he wanted to play the game too, try it out at least and I proposed such a deal, that if he levels my rogue, he can play on whatever account of mine, or character he wants. FERPECT! No… Turns out he got horrified by the leveling experience as well and used hacks to speed up the process, I guess it isn’t worth mentioning that the game masters found out about that quick. The account was banned…

With such a loss, my paladin gone to waste, I felt like: “Eh, whatever…”. And now as I come back at the turn of the tides, I find myself in a position that I can’t level no more. I went through 6 different characters, hardly getting them up to level 10. I’ve been spoiled by the end-game content, but the leveling too, especially Tanaris, yes you, you little piece of shit, worst zone right after Desolace, spoiling my game for me and all that. The leveling feels needlessly prolonged and leveling feels like death in general, waste of my time during which I could have went for a walk or watched TV. Exactly, feels just like a second job which I do not need at all.

And now, after writing this post, I feel much much better. I can actually not play the game no more, since the game just leeched out my life energy with it’s shitty leveling experience. I can now go back and play TF2 SOAM MOAR.

Fuck you.

Como Quieras/ As You Like It

Como Quieras/ As You Like It

I’m drawing a rhinoceros

or perhaps a wooden dinosaur

however you prefer

a horse with shaving cream on his nose

I love you any Ways

but nothing will ever be as before

Not even the horse

and most certainly not the Noses

Show De Magia/ Magic Show

Show De Magia/ Magic Show

A single rotating fireball

on the head of a magician.

A Thousand looks in the gallery gasped.

A shade of ash was discovered in the hat.

THERE WAS NO PICTURE ON IT

IT IS TAIM TO BAIL

DOCUMENTS

“I exclaimed”

YOU ARE BETTER BE READY FOR DELIVERANCE

SHUSHHHHHHHUHHHHHHG AWAY!!!

HHHHHHH…
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAaa