desde la cara de dios

how come no one ever told me in such explicit terms?
that
the world is filled with those that possess/ed the Verb, the Word, logos, as they call it (¨to do", i suppose), and those that just borrowed it.

quite interesting, the idea that western expansion that led to a global culture obliges/d those who didn´t share such ideas, who were content in existence sans progress, expansion, perfection, and only as part of something, to justify themselves as Men in light of this new global era.

but i can´t undo my western-ness. and that´s fine. because i probably wouldn´t have, then, pink floyd in my headphones.

or then maybe i would.

(we call it riding the gravy traaaaaaain)

*

going to another country always makes unfold my ignorance before me, effortlessly. just lays it all out. and i feel, in verisimilar-ness to all the clocks on the wall in all the places here that have nearly exactly the wrong time (for the on-and-offing of electricity?i´m not sure), that i lose some conventional meaning i had at some point.

but maybe i never had even that...as for the clocks, and for me as well, i´m not sure with what it´s replaced.

nos vamos creando, puede ser. O nos vamos estar creado.

i know at least i am the stranger here.

*

last night i was looking at a map, looking at where i´ve been. it´s still all so close, in so many ways.

i feel, and i direct this particularly to you, Mr. Gregory, who, in your regretful absence, make known your presence, that i must, at some point, penetrate the un-west.

but not the un-westerner, necessarily.

*

right now i write you from the valley.

from the illusion of order, the fashion show that is the Universidad de San Francisco de Quito. where most everyone´s a lighter shade of brown. i like my professors, but i really haven´t made many friends.

last week alexandra and i went to a school-affiliated party to which many of my compañeros de clase were alleged to attend and at which i aspired to make friends. but the lighting too absent, the music too loud, i nair (sp?) met a soul.

even several months ago this sort of party would be right up my alley, i think i would have been able to fulfill that maldita cycle that so often calls me by my more secret name, complete with awkward and half-conscient nocturnal emission, morning unfamiliarity, the end in regret.

you know, the hurried emptying of that cup of thoughtless, clumsy passion.

but i just didn´t have that in me anymore.

*

a couple of nights later, she told me that she would go anywhere in the world with me, and then
i had a feeling i´ve never had before.

oh but that fucking cowboy, that freedom spirit, no matter how artificial or deceptive be he, o! and now i love him now i damn him!, is still a very integral part of my soul.

i leave you wishing you could come and have a Pilsener here with me, feel this weather on your soul, this being...

so drop a piss for me.