He is a chatterbox who won´t shut up nor be shy. A show-off from the countryside which came to become Great Madrid outskirts. The day of the race he couldn´t stop conspiring and fixing deals with his in-law family thar was at the site. That´s the way this dear weird is.
Half Asturias, halg a fashion model, half a policeman, half an actor and a basketball power-forward. He won´t store 3 points shot nor MACHACAR EL ARO. A Weird One therefore, because when he does so it´s giving his back to the basket and it looks as if he is already coming back. He is smart as few can be, but I know him as if it was me who had given birth to him, and I do know when he is trying to pretend, when he has got good cards or he is just bluffing –and in this particular case, believe he won´t have more than forty heartbeats per minute – he´s really smart, I just told you,
A Weird One also as generous, for not taking into account neither reales nor euros, to the point he even let me be the one to control his payments on his party´s birthday, and he always complained there were too little; if someone goes, he insists in paying the taxi ride if there´s a bill available, and if something is expensive he even bluffs “…and all of this (the place, the business, etc)…who much is it going to sum up?” Tell me not if this is ain´t a Weird One or not, the guy.
With Wittgenstein he shares that there is an enormous distance between reality and the world as we perceive it, so that everything can be brought back to his personal point of view. To say it in a more colloquial way, it´s not that he can sell you a car, he can sell you the lot. Once I was witness of how he organized a Café- Thêatre, in the middle of disco-pub, well into the morning, with already half the theatre company drunk, myself at least, and with the audience in not a healthier or more sober condition. With the aim of displaying a Shakespeare play – “The Tempest” – It couldn´t have been a different one. At the end the microphones didn´t work, and the voices could get louder to those all ready celebrating friendship; the pub´s owner, who wouldn´t stop drinking was stopped by the punch of his partner and (even though) brother – we will say the were from Napoli, if that helps reduce their guilt- and everything ended up like it was the end of the world. How could we arrive to that point? The aim of this silver one and his efforts (two hours of sleep average for a month) were pretty involved in this task. Myself, dressed up as a gay angel, I keep the best memories of it. He, on the contrary, claims he has been damaged by this weird illusion moments on more than one occasions, and promises to change. Really really weird and brave, I finish, for never giving up against odds. Though a winner, he can loose rounds, matches, sets…and never admit he´s being defeated…”Do not fuck me up, Kikoso, shit…”. And I go on playing or giving cards again, without a drop of faith in the next victory.
That´s the way he has it, the guy.
Half Asturias, halg a fashion model, half a policeman, half an actor and a basketball power-forward. He won´t store 3 points shot nor MACHACAR EL ARO. A Weird One therefore, because when he does so it´s giving his back to the basket and it looks as if he is already coming back. He is smart as few can be, but I know him as if it was me who had given birth to him, and I do know when he is trying to pretend, when he has got good cards or he is just bluffing –and in this particular case, believe he won´t have more than forty heartbeats per minute – he´s really smart, I just told you,
A Weird One also as generous, for not taking into account neither reales nor euros, to the point he even let me be the one to control his payments on his party´s birthday, and he always complained there were too little; if someone goes, he insists in paying the taxi ride if there´s a bill available, and if something is expensive he even bluffs “…and all of this (the place, the business, etc)…who much is it going to sum up?” Tell me not if this is ain´t a Weird One or not, the guy.
With Wittgenstein he shares that there is an enormous distance between reality and the world as we perceive it, so that everything can be brought back to his personal point of view. To say it in a more colloquial way, it´s not that he can sell you a car, he can sell you the lot. Once I was witness of how he organized a Café- Thêatre, in the middle of disco-pub, well into the morning, with already half the theatre company drunk, myself at least, and with the audience in not a healthier or more sober condition. With the aim of displaying a Shakespeare play – “The Tempest” – It couldn´t have been a different one. At the end the microphones didn´t work, and the voices could get louder to those all ready celebrating friendship; the pub´s owner, who wouldn´t stop drinking was stopped by the punch of his partner and (even though) brother – we will say the were from Napoli, if that helps reduce their guilt- and everything ended up like it was the end of the world. How could we arrive to that point? The aim of this silver one and his efforts (two hours of sleep average for a month) were pretty involved in this task. Myself, dressed up as a gay angel, I keep the best memories of it. He, on the contrary, claims he has been damaged by this weird illusion moments on more than one occasions, and promises to change. Really really weird and brave, I finish, for never giving up against odds. Though a winner, he can loose rounds, matches, sets…and never admit he´s being defeated…”Do not fuck me up, Kikoso, shit…”. And I go on playing or giving cards again, without a drop of faith in the next victory.
That´s the way he has it, the guy.
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