The Boy with the black cloud over his head.

This is the story of a boy who was very smart and had a bright future ahead of him. However, he could not see this.


When he was young, he was ahead of everyone, in time and in class. He knew everything the teachers were trying to teach. Some kids even wondered if he could see the future. Years went by and he saw the real world, the unkindness of strangers, the weird games kids used to play. The boy did not understand these things. He would tell lies to get by, he would try and turn the tables so he would not have to do these things. People understood him, but all they wanted was his knowledge.


As he grew older, he would scare himself even further. He was bullied. Day after day. He suffered from claustrophobia. The kids knew this, so they would use this fear against him. A year later, his best friend died. A day before that, she made a phone call and he did not speak to her, as he was going out to play with friends. This affected him deeply, in such a way that he believed it was her ghost, her haunting that made things worse for him. He could not sleep alone. An eleven-year old kid unable to sleep on his own. He did not cry, he did not say a word when he heard of his friend's death. He held back the tears for ten years.


He went to different countries and he felt like none of them could be called 'home'. He made friends, and things changed. No one bullied him, but he lost interest in school. Friends would become blurry faces, and walking around would make him dizzy. He would fall for every girl but his self esteem was destroyed in such a way he could not muster up courage to even look into the girl's eyes. He would watch every year as someone else took the place he wanted. All he wanted was a little affection. 


Years went by and he became depressed. He had his joys, he would listen to his favourite tunes and smile, but inside, he was not half the kid he wished he was. For years after that episode of depression, he would enter a constant cycle where things were at an all-time high. He would find a beautiful girl he liked, a group of friends that would stick by him in the good and bad, and his life would go back to "normal". In a couple of months that would shift to rock bottom. 

After two cycles, one night, the boy prayed to God, even though he was quite the skeptic and used to fear "Him". He opened his eyes and looked at the ceiling and saw a black cloud, pouring rain over his head. The next morning, he asked his mother if there was a leak of some sort on the house. His mother replied that he brought his black cloud into the house, and that it was his responsibility to take it out. However, as another cycle was starting, he did not notice the black cloud was still there.


He blamed the black cloud on every failure. On every misstep he would make. On every insult he would say to people, on every decision he thought was wrong, on the friends who would betray him or leave him because he did not agree on things they would, on his misfortune when it came to being loved and how the "stupidest" people he knew found someone and he remained alone. People would tell him to lighten up. He just didn't listen. He claimed he could see the future and for him, it was bleak and lonely. People would not speak to him of these problems anymore. He was also a master when it came to hide these problems, but everyone could notice the black cloud. Even in bits and pieces, it was there. It would not stop following him.


One day, the boy met a girl. She was the sunshine to his black cloud. But the boy had closed his mind so bad he lost her within a month. He would regret this the way someone would regret not saving a dying child. All of a sudden, he found himself lost in this world with no direction home. He did not even feel he had a home, anyway.
A year went by, and he seemed to take care of his wounds on its own, but for the first time, he asked for help. And he received it. He thought things had changed. But the black cloud was still there, raining over him, its raindrops black as coal, its smell as horrible as the combination of every contaminated lake and every sewer in the planet. But he would ignore this.


The boy met another girl, and this time, he thought he could be a normal person, but rushed things out and ended up scaring her away. He insulted her, he told her terrible things, he said "no" to her friendship. It was an "all or nothing" problem for him. A week later, he was filled with regret. He asked for forgiveness, as he always did, but this time, his apologies were not accepted, and it was over... and all of a sudden, the boy realized there was no black cloud over him. He was the black cloud. His soul was black as coal. He was a boy trapped in a young man's body. He did this to himself. All the years that went by, he took everything so seriously he never nurtured and loved himself. He just wanted this from anyone else but him. He realized the wrong he had done to himself and others.


The boy cried himself to sleep, black raindrops pouring all over him, covering him in coal. He wanted to burn alive for what he had done. He knew he could change things and start over, but the past would burn his heart all the way to his back. He knew this was all in his head, but he did not know how to find a solution to this problem. He vowed he would make the black cloud disappear no matter what as a thunderstorm roared nearby.

Of magicians, love and knowledge.

I'm digging this post I did on tumblr a year ago (probably). It kinda resonates with the way I feel now, but it's also a reminder of something very personal. Anyway, it's nothing special, but here goes:


When Harry Houdini met (and almost subsequently) married his wife Beatrice, also known as Bess, their relationship also went professional. She would make all the bookings, supplies, schedules and what-have-you, while Houdini concentrated on improving stunts and developing skills, as well as new tricks, of course. To show his appreciation for Bess and her hard work, he would write a love letter to her on an almost daily basis, a practice that continued for the rest of his life.


As far as I know or have read (at the very least), Harry and Bess had one great, long-lasting relationship. They had this undying love and devotion for each other, so strong they devised codes so the skeptical, daring Houdini, who did not believe in the supernatural or paranormal (whatever floats your boat) could communicate with her from the other side if possible.


Time goes by and things get tougher, but one’s heart gets soft, I don’t really know if we get more vulnerable but we also pretend to be stronger, and we’re also getting stronger but we’re losing touch with the real world, making us equally vulnerable in the end. I don’t even know if that makes sense, but what I do know is that I should find a love like that. A girl I can really see, a girl I can really be with, a companion, more than anything. Someone I don’t have to buy or impress or whatever it is real losers do to have someone special in their lives. Someone who’s interesting, who doesn’t spend her day doing nothing, who’s not excessively vulgar and most of all, someone with an open mind and responsible for her acts, someone who’s able to go out without having to lie to her parents (yes, those kinds of people still exist) and I could go on, but whatever…

The Boatman's Call

"We don't really know each other" she said to me. I refused to believe this, I thought I was on the right track, even though deep inside I was scared shitless, knowing something was up. 

I thought I knew her. I thought I knew her as well as I knew myself. But make no mistake, everyone knew there was that kind of ending waiting around the corner. There was no twist, no gimmicks -- it was bound to happen. I effectively crept my way in (you can say I did it in both the literary and the "creepy" way) and fooled myself and rushed and ended up making someone hate my guts, like I always do.

A week later, I'm ranting and hating on the poor girl because of my own actions. Well, that's not a manly thing to do, and it's definitely not human. I can see that now. I spent two days insulting the girl just because I creeped her out and pressured her, and fuck, that's exactly what I never wanted to do in my life. I've been "the creep" many, MANY times and I hate it. But this time I deserved it way more than any other.

She was right. We don't know each other. I didn't give her room to breathe and reveal herself to me as she really is, and I realized I haven't been me. In a twisted way, I probably did good by insulting her and telling her I did not want to speak to her anymore. She probably hates my guts now and thinks I'm a worthless piece of shit, and maybe I look like it. But I'm not that man.

Shit has been fucked up, and I don't mean lately, not in the past weeks, not even the past month. I'm talking about years, almost a decade. Have you watched those Twilight Zone episodes where the chinese guy with resentment is looking for his lost childhood, his innocence, his compassion, and the one where the angry middle aged man goes back to his childhood home and ends up literally revisiting his past but through his middle aged eyes and figures the whole thing out? Well, you can definitely say that has happened to me.

Drinking and taking my medication doesn't improve or deteriorate things. I'm the only one who controls everything within me, and whaddya know, it took me around ten years to figure that out. How do you start from zero when you thought you didn't care about everything around do, but you do? How do you stop hating compulsively on everyone and focus on what makes you happy? How do you learn to live with yourself? Well, I've been figuring that out. I won't lie. I've done plenty of fucked up things. I've become a master when it comes to burning bridges, and even though I've been quite selfish during these years, I have not really paid attention to the real me, who's sitting in a basement, held hostage by a negative creep. And turns out that negative creep is me.

I would like to apologize, even if those apologies are not received, to everyone, for having them put up with my bullshit for so long. But I'm not looking for sympathy and I'm not wallowing in my sorrow, in fact, I don't even feel sad right now. For the first time in some time, I feel hopeful. I feel like starting over, and guess what, I'm on it. Even if it's not far away from this town I don't really like, but I finally get the picture. I really do. I don't wanna be on the fence, but if I have to choose a side, I think I wanna stick to the 'good' side of things. Change things up a bit. 

Strollin' down on Rabbit Market.

¿Es triste que esté más emocionado por un ensayo que por la posibilidad de un "toque" o algo así en este país?

Francamente, no me importa.

Hoy es el ensayo #3 con mi nueva banda. Después de tiempos de tormentas de arena y demás cagadas estelares, ya estoy en territorio estable con músicos nuevos. El único músico que ya me ha acompañado en este viaje antes es Álvaro, quien mucho más que un amigo, es como un hermano para mi. Hemos pasado por altos y bajos que pueden rayar en lo ridículo y absurdo, pero hemos sido más fuertes que eso.

La banda no tiene nombre, y no sé cual es la obsesión de todos aquí en Valencia de saber si la banda tiene nombre y material y si ya tenemos dos discos y si vamos a tocar en festivales y cosas así, nunca he entendido esa presión. Nos conocimos rápidamente, todos estamos en la misma página a la hora de que queremos y que no queremos con esta música, y el primer jam session que tuvimos fue de otro mundo. Estamos tomando baby steps, y creo que por primera vez para mi, que soy la persona mas impaciente del planeta Tierra, me parece lo mejor que hemos hecho. Me siento totalmente a gusto, y no me siento tan frustrado ni tan bloqueado a la hora de traer cosas nuevas. 


Por ahora, el codename para la banda es "Rabbit Market", una traducción caiman de Conejero, sí, ese mercado de la Isla de Margarita. Recuerdenme agradecerle al Conde del Guácharo por eso. Tenemos un historial de nombres ridículos y no creo que ese sea el definitivo, aunque si hay miles de bandas con nombres feos como Fordelucs y bandas con titulos de canciones horribles como "Motafoca", tampoco descartaría el nombre. Podríamos llegar al Billboard 200 si quisieramos, aunque esa no sea nuestra prioridad. Si hay algo que he aprendido en la vida es que mi plan es "no hay plan", y eso aplica más o menos a esto.

La alineación, que espero que sea definitiva, es Marco en la batería, un autodidacta con muchas ganas de tocar y crear piezas psicodélicas, progresivas y todo lo que sea desafiante y no tan convencional, que es algo que logró resonar con mi idea de este proyecto. En el bajo, el super low end, tenemos a David, que originalmente iba a tocar el synth, pero nos reveló a ultima hora que el también tenía un bajo y experiencia con el instrumento, lo cual es una sorpresa muy grata en un pueblo donde sólo existen dos bajistas. Esto ha abierto un montón de puertas que no creíamos que iban a existir en el primer lugar.

La sección rítmica: Marco en la batería, David en el bajo.

Álvaro y yo ya hemos trabajado juntos, como mencioné antes, y nuestros proyectos anteriores eran mucho más crudos y prehistóricos en sonido y estética y todo lo demás. Por supuesto, también está el factor flojera que destruye todo, y la maldición de quedar estancados en un solo estilo, un solo sonido, cosa que no queríamos. Ahora el panorama es mucho más distinto y tricky, todos hemos madurado, pero eso le da emoción a la banda también, porque estamos concentrados en hacer algo sin mucho estrés, algo que evolucione y sea completamente sincero y mucho más importante, que la banda lo pueda disfrutar. Si nosotros lo disfrutamos, ustedes los oyentes también van a disfrutar. Puedo garantizar eso. Cualquiera puede.

No somos virtuosos, no tenemos trayectoria de millones de años, aún estamos en la juventud, pero la mágia del asunto es que con cada día y cada ensayo y cada tema o idea que salga, vamos progresando hasta hacer algo que sea como un terremoto sonico. Si tuviese que describir el sonido ideal de la banda, o a lo que vamos, es Smashing Pumpkins, Sonic Youth, Mastodon, Thin Lizzy, Pink Floyd, Swans, Amplifier, Oceansize, Russian Circles, Tool, The Mars Volta, The Cure, Joy Division y Boris peleandose por una malta en una luncheria, con todas las demás bandas y los artistas que son grandes influencias viendo la pelea y burlandose mientras se toman una frescolita. 

Al fondo, con la Les Paul, Álvaro. David de espaldas "slappin' da bass" y yo a la izquierda.

En apenas una semana ya llevamos un instrumental y una canción a medias. Comparado a todos nuestros proyectos anteriores, esto es relámpago, y aunque eso no garantiza el futuro de la banda en absolutamente nada, si tenemos las ganas de hacer algo, que es lo importante. Me tomé la libertad de hacer un link al Soundcloud de la banda, el cual está hecho exclusivamente para subir "demos de demos" y si podemos, los instrumentales. No me gusta la idea del Soundcloud para tener la música disponible online, prefiero el Bandcamp, pero mientras no haya nada finalizado, no vamos a crear nada. Les dejo fotos mal tomadas de la banda y "hipsterizadas" con Instagram para embellecer el contenido de este post, y me voy de acá, porque el tiempo pasa rápido y dentro de nada debo estar saliendo a ensayar. 

Que la fuerza los acompañe.

Turn of the Screw.

No sé si alguna vez tenga un blog estable. Yo no soy escritor, pero me la paso escribiendo en cualquier parte, y tengo tiempo para escribir, así que ¿Por qué no volver a esta cuestión? Este blog tiene más aspecto de diario público que un blog convencional. Aquí voy a escribir cosas sencillas, cosas absurdas, cosas que harán que cualquiera crea que estoy muy mal de la cabeza, hablaré de música, del progreso con mis proyectos musicales, de mis frustraciones, criticaré a quien quiera, de repente estarán en español o en inglés (o en las dos) las cosas y vamos a ver que más se me ocurre en el camino.

Ah sí, este es el típico post de prueba. Espero que puedan olvidar la fealdad del blog, en lo que sepa algo de HTML (o encuentre alguien que me ayude con eso) podremos ser felices. That would be all.