NO FREAKIN' WAY

I'm in denial. I'm in denial because I can't still believe The Who actually cancelled their concert here at Foro Sol. So, I repeat, I'm in denial (do you have an idea of how many times I have said: "It just can't be!!!!"? People who know me well might know) and I'm also acting incredibly stubborn and unwilling to believe anything that doesn't come from their official site, thewhotour.com, which, by the way, doesn't say anything about cancelling, but still marks our date as "postponed".
What troubles me is the fact that I will have to go up knockin' on heaven's door (or down the highway to hell) and confess I never got to see The Who live. But I guess the worst part goes to Roger Daltrey: he will go to hell (he's indeed going because of this) and he will have to confess he never heard one of my trademark Deafening Concert Shouts. Take that, Mr. Daltrey!!!

The Hopeful Me: Of course, it can always be a trick from Ticketmaster... Maybe they're saying it was cancelled so they can sell the tickets to a higher price for the next date The Who announces...

Bury me under the word of Dreamer...

My work. Enjoy, and judge.



Bury me under the word of Dreamer,
Eyes closed to see the birds in the sky,
Hands hanging loosely to catch the stars--
Freezing in oblivion to keep myself warm.

Bury me under the stone of Visions,
Hair flying wildly to the winds of the earth,
Feet running free on the road of the roots--
But so well behaved by the light of the moon.

Bury me inside the box of Reverie,
Knees bending over to reach out for space,
Mouth opened slightly to taste sweet rain wine--
Closer to fire than to something divine.

Bury me under the word of Dreamer.

Doctor My Eyes

Esta semana empecé a sentir una leve molestia en los ojos. La verdad, odio cuando eso sucede porque soy dada al catastrofismo, así que inmediatamente pienso que los ojos se me van a caer, seguido por una lista de todas las cosas que ya no podré ver y que extrañaré: los colores, las caras de mi familia y de mis amigos (es neta), pirotecnia en todas sus presentaciones, las películas de Woody Allen y las de Ewan McGregor, los videos de David Bowie, las estrellas... y, por qué no, un buen par de ojos azules...
Finalmente, fui a la óptica, y me dijeron que tenía los ojos secos. ("Angie... come on baby, dry your eyes..." NOT THAT HARD, ANGIE!) Y mi receta fueron nada más y nada menos que unas gotitas llamadas lágrimas artificiales. Vaya, yo pensé que esas solamente eran las de las telenovelas o que había ciertas mujeres que las usaban porque definitivamente están privadas de las lágrimas reales.
Sea lo que sea, mis ojos parecen estar mejor, y qué bueno. The Who se aproxima... ¡los necesito!


Doctor My Eyes
Jackson Browne

Doctor, my eyes have seen the years
And the slow parade of fears without crying
Now I want to understand
I have done all that I could
To see the evil and the good without hiding
You must help me if you can
Doctor, my eyes
Tell me what is wrong
Was I unwise to leave them open for so long
'Cause I have wandered through this world
And as each moment has unfurled
I've been waiting to awaken from these dreams
People go just where they will
I never noticed them until I got this feeling
That it's later than it seems
Doctor, my eyes
Tell me what you see
I hear their cries
Just say if it's too late for me

Doctor, my eyes
I Cannot see the sky
Is this the prize for having learned how not to cry......