January 27, 2013

¿Sangre brava?

Me dan asco las corridas de toros. No me importa que digan que es un deporte honorable o una tradición hermosa. No puedo concebir la idea de que ejecuten a un animal sólo por entrener a las masas, ¿que seguimos en Roma, cuando el coliseo era la única manera de entretener a la masa, ignorante y ambiciosa? ¿No decimos acaso que hemos evolucionado tanto como seres pensantes? ¿No vivimos acaso en la época del alumbramiento tecnológico? ¿Cómo entonces prevalecen tradiciones que involucran actos de tortura y mutilación contra seres vivos? Peor aún, seres en desventaja; porque el torero no entra al ruedo a pelear sólo con las herramientas que le dio la naturaleza, entra armado con espadas y apoyado siempre por un grupo de personas que ejecutarán al toro en cuanto este tome la delantera. Es una crueldad y una cobardía. Como una pelea callejera donde entre varios golpean a otro que esta indefenso. Eso son para mi los toreros, vándalos arrabaleros que buscan pelea con seres en desventaja.

Siento pena por el mundo cada que un espectáculo así es festejado. Siento pena por ti que te has ofendido por este texto.

¿Sangre brava? Sangre brava es aquel que pelea por una causa noble y justa, que utiliza la razón antes que la fuerza y que afronta los conflictos con valentía y coraje, pero siempre con justicia. Justicia sería que pelearan con el toro a puño limpio. Cobardes.

Cobardes todos.

January 20, 2013

Turning tables.

“We were discussing homosexuality because of an allusion to it in the book we were reading, and several boys made comments such as, “That’s disgusting.” We got into the debate and eventually a boy admitted that he was terrified/disgusted when he was once sharing a taxi and the other male passenger made a pass at him. The light bulb went off. “Oh,” I said. “I get it. See, you are afraid, because for the first time in your life you have found yourself a victim of unwanted sexual advances by someone who has the physical ability to use force against you.” The boy nodded and shuddered visibly.“But,” I continued. “As a woman, you learn to live with that from the time you are fourteen, and it never stops. We live with that fear every day of our lives. Every man walking through the parking garage the same time you are is either just a harmless stranger or a potential rapist. Every time.” The girls in the room nodded, agreeing. The boys seemed genuinely shocked. “So think about that the next time you hit on a girl. Maybe, like you in the taxi, she doesn’t actually want you to.”


Source:
"(Homophobia: The fear that another man will treat you like you treat women." Andrew Sullivan.)

January 10, 2013

To whom it may concern...

I want us to have a big, cozy bed. A bed made to hold us dearly while we hold each other. A bed with cold, soft sheets to cover us at night, so no matter how we go to bed, either happy, sad or tired, we'll always end up snuggled, as the warmth of each other's body draws us closer.

Let's never go to bed upset. Please, let us never fall asleep while angry at each other, for we may never wake up to say how stupid we were for doing so. Promise me that you'll always say good morning, and that we'll never be too busy to say "I love you".

Talk to me about your problems, help me understand you better so I may be of any help and always mean support.

Talk to me about animals. Tell me of your first pet and how much you loved it. Let's get a dog. A furry, loving dog that will love us like nobody will ever love us and whom we'll show the world and how to walk properly in society with out being struck as aggressive or dirty. A dog that crawls into our bed at nights and steps on your leg while cuddling onto mine. A dog that barks when we yell so that we know it upsets it and that sings with me while doing the dishes.


Let's have a life a together, starting now. Please, come to bed.

January 8, 2013

Ways to kill time.

We should sleep together. No kissing or fucking or snuggling into each other. We should just lay together in bed, in the middle of the night, with no lights at all… And just talk about us. About the way we were raised and the ways we were hurt. About our idols and our ideals… About the fucking weather if you like.


We should lay in bed together… And try to sleep.

January 4, 2013

Beyond.

“If you stumble about believability, what are you living for? Love is hard to believe, ask any lover. Life is hard to believe, ask any scientist. God is hard to believe, ask any believer. What is your problem with hard to believe?”
Yann Martel, Life of Pi

Hard.

Shut the fuck up and start thinking about me.