Month: July 2018

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The cold that anesthetizes your conscience

Divide your head in as many cells as you want and fill them in categories: your fears in one cell, love in another, empathy in another, selfishness in another, your capacity for abstraction in another and so on until you complete what you think you are , your essence, your experience, or whatever you want to call it. It also associates each cell with people or groups of people: You and yours in the cell of friendship, your partner and your family in the love cell, the fans of the rival team or the political parties opposed to your ideology in the Hate cell, etc. Now cover the walls of each cell with insulating material so that cold or noise can not pass from one cell to another. You can also reinforce each wall with blades, as in the border of Melilla. It is convenient to ensure that the bully of your class in the cell of fears does not sneak into the cell of forgiveness, for example. Or if he manages to jump, he bleeds and perishes in the attempt.

Finally, be sure to line and lock each cell, especially the two smallest cells, that of love and empathy, before opening any newspaper, or turning on the TV, or going out on the street.

Then take a taxi, ask the taxi driver to turn up the heating and observe placid the world around you. To avoid feeling involved in other lives, use your cell system: put everyone in the appropriate cell and immediately lock it with a key. Observe the homeless person lying on the floor, asking for crumbs that have died of cold, and drag him to your SPAM cell. And neglect: if you try to escape to the cell of consciousness, there will be blades, and drones, and an army of snipers waiting for you.

The good news is that thanks to this method, among many other advantages, you can continue to vote without remorse to the party that helped to increase poverty and exclusion in Spain while favoring the powerful that you are not but yearn to be. And you will continue to sleep at night like a child as long as no one forces your cell of love or friendship. With the key that guards your head safely.


Tender to nostalgia

Tender to nostalgia

Before redoing your life, ask yourself if your life was ever made, if you came to settle for the job, if you came to say: here I am. You married Ana two years ago, and two years ago you thought yes, that Ana was your world and that the rest of the worlds did not exist. Everyone marries convinced that the future will be an eternal continuous present; a sum of plans and adornments revolving around the same epicenter. Ana was the nucleus of that world, and all your thoughts, your illusions, gravitated around her. But time passed untimely among you and, in those cases, when the routine weighs less than love and goes afloat and taints the sea of ​​good intentions, peace leaps from the vowel and becomes an intoxicated fish.

Your peace became that fish. And you let yourself be carried away by the tide until you die by biting the hook that your lawyer threw at you. The corals and the wrecks and the treasure, for her. For you, the shore where the waves break and goodbye.

After that, to sail all its seas to end up like a castaway in no-man’s land, as soon as you left the office (or spite) of your lawyer, you took my taxi. When closing the door the thread that joined you to your fishing rod was cut and you told me your story as if trying to get the hook out of the sky from your mouth. I tried to encourage you and I told you that those wounds on the palate are cured soon thanks to the healing power of the saliva. Although I also warned you: “Do not forget that the seas evaporate, they condense, and the rain will come and you will think about it. And you’ll also find his face in the shape of the clouds. ” That’s why I advised you to avoid looking at the sky and to carry, for now, always with you an umbrella. And that you avoid the salt foods. And instead of tending to nostalgia, you would have nostalgia on a string, with tweezers, until it dries or comes out from inside you.

I changed my taxi for a new one and also the taximeter. Now it is integrated in the rear view mirror: when it is activated, the rate is overexposed in the mirror, which has meant a radical change in my way of reading and understanding the views of the users.

It is strange to frame a face in the mirror and to observe with its eyes an amount in euros that increases as the taxi advances. Sometimes it gives the impression that the amount receivable jumps five by five cents depending on the frequency of the blinking, or the intensity of the look.

And then they, the users, avoid more than before looking me in the eye through the mirror, maybe because they run into the price of their words; a wall that takes them away from any altruistic conversation between two strangers. I installed this taximeter because it will soon be mandatory by European regulations.

It’s the world they want. In Europe. Make believe that everything has a price.

Sometimes it is convenient to slow down and take distance. Even if you are the first in the World Cup race, a few meters from the finish line: take a step back, brake in the dry and let the rest go ahead. At first the public and the other competitors will think that the engine failed you, that’s how simple the white man is. Then, when I see you leave your car with the sole intention of throwing yourself on the ground and playing with the ants, you will think that you have gone crazy. In any case, the second player will win the grand prize, but you will feel free: you could choose to win. That’s enough for you.

A couple of weeks ago I participated in a poker machine with a user. He simply got into my taxi, told me that some friends were waiting for him to play poker, and when he saw that I understood the matter, he offered to participate. So I parked the taxi at its destination and we went into the back room of a bar together. There were five of us in total (and two bottles of Jack Daniel’s).

The bets started loose, but little by little things got warmer. In the last hand we were two: my rival began to raise his bet and I to raise even more his. My cards were bad (couple of ladies), however I enrolled in hide my bluff betting very strong with the sole intention that he surrendered. And in the end he did not give up. The bet was out of hand and reached a sum that I could not pay, but there was something in me that pushed me to keep betting: maybe my desire to hit bottom and start from scratch, or prove to myself that this world, that my world was finished.

We flipped our cards on the mat and theirs left me in one piece: he also went bluffing and my ladies ended up winning their pair of sevens.

And thanks to that stroke of luck, the biggest and strangest of my life, I bought a new taxi. Although after that, as I’ve already told you, came the theft in my house, my girlfriend pillaging me with another and moving alone to a bad pension.

Up and down, in short. Life.

Put a price on your freedom

Put a price on your freedom

Imagine that your girlfriend, in a boot of horns, changes the lock of your own house and does not let you in, not even to pick up some clothes or your toothbrush. Imagine that, in addition, you left the credit cards on the nightstand and you only carry thirty euros and the keys of a taxi with hardly any fuel. You will have to think about how to do it to eat, sleep and wash for an undetermined time, at least until the matter is clarified. For now, you will throw fifteen euros of diesel oil and plant your taxi at the first stop you find with the intention of maximizing consumption.

You wait at the stop for forty minutes and a woman mounts. Tells you a short trip, just € 5.50 with tip. Then, at the next stop, you have more luck and in less than half an hour you get another race of € 9.70. Thus, in just over six hours from stop to stop, you get a total of € 64. In metalic. Today you do not support VISA.

Navigating with the mobile you find a shabby pension in the center for € 35 a night and there you go. You tell the receptionist (a bald, yellowish guy with a cirrhotic appearance) that you do not know how many days you’re going to stay. Anyway, you add, you’ll pay him a day. The man accompanies you to your new room (an old room with a small bed, a closet, a desk with its wooden chair, and a cheap TV hanging on the wall) and you install with the clothes: no extra clothes and a briefcase with your laptop and 3G connection. Then you go down to the corner Chinese where you buy a beer yonkilata and a couple of sandwiches.

After eating in the same room you open the laptop and start writing this post (the chair is uncomfortable, the desk limps). In a recess you lie down in bed and you think you might end up getting used to this: to live with nothing, only what you will take out of your taxi every day. Maybe tomorrow, with what I got from the collection after eating and paying the pension, you could buy a couple of changes and a toothbrush to get through. In fact, as you go deeper into it, you begin to notice certain airs of freedom blowing on the nape of your neck. It’s been a while since you’ve felt this. You had to stay homeless, without a girlfriend, without money, without clothes, you had to stay with only your taxi and your laptop to realize it.

Now you know that survival, day by day, does not leave the precise space to miss anything. Not even her, your girlfriend. Sorry: your ex.

The footprint of the crime

The footprint of the crime

Yesterday they entered the house to rob me, as I told you. But it did not stop there. After calling 091 (and the locksmith to open the barred door), entering the house and finding everything destroyed, the police arrived to take fingerprints. Then I went to the police station to formalize the complaint and I went back home, with my girlfriend, thinking that everything was over at last!

Big mistake. Barely 24 hours later they called me from the police station. They had found a different footprint than ours, and they wanted us to come with the intention of checking with their files if we knew the person in question. I immediately went in my taxi to find my girlfriend at work, and we went to the police station.

The commissioner was waiting for us. We went to his office, typed some codes on his computer and at the touch of INTRO a picture appeared on the screen that left me pale: It was Laura, a user of my taxi with whom, let’s say, I had an adventure just a week ago.

It was an unforgivable slip, I admit it. That Laura had ridden in my taxi, she began to tell me that she had just broken up with her boyfriend, that she needed revenge and freedom, and one thing led to the other … and my bad head, the one below, was carried away by his insinuations , and taking advantage of the fact that my girlfriend was at work, we ended up in my house.

Never would have thought, finally, that this unfortunate story was uncovered in that way, in a police station, but it was. Although the really strange thing came after: the fact is that before I could react and invent a convincing excuse or collapse and confess the facts, my girlfriend, with serious tone, told the Commissioner: