Hay veces

Hay veces en que las palabras no cuajan. Hay veces en que el sentido parece haber huído volando de lado como pájaro con un ala rota. Hay veces en que afuera hace frío y no hay nada bueno esperando en el correo. Hay veces en que el regreso parece imposible, mañana es una apuesta valiente y dejar de desear parece ser la ruta más fácil. Hay veces en que hay hambre, sed, sueño y aún queda demasiado por hacer. Hay veces en que hay un roto en la pared del baño porque el control es algo efímero. Hay veces en que algunas amistades tienen pinta de fósil y todas las certezas parecen de cristal. Hay veces en que las nubes amenazan, la inmensidad parece concentrada y dar la batalla nos hace pensar en estadios vacíos. Yo qué sé, hay veces...

Buscapié: Se van

Aquí les dejo la columna de hoy. Parece que tocó una fibra en la comunidad de exiliados. Me parece que es la columna más leída y compartida desde que escribo en Buscapié.  Gracias a todos los que la compartieron.

 

10 de noviembre de 2013

Se van

Gabino Iglesias

Resulta que el hecho de que la crisis social que vive Puerto Rico hace que los puertorriqueños abandonen el país sigue siendo noticia. Supongo que es mejor hablen de eso que de la extinción de los dinosaurios. En cualquier caso, la noticia debería ser presentada de otra manera: hay boricuas que se fueron sin muchas ganas y llevan al país como tatuaje en el corazón.

El exilio autoimpuesto es algo que sólo conoce el que lo vive. Desde la distancia, Puerto Rico se transforma en playa, comida, sol, risa de amigos, familia, recuerdos y una añoranza agridulce que alimenta a diario las ganas de volver. Por eso se vuelve. Por desgracia, la vuelta siempre viene preñada de verdades.

Todos los espacios conocidos se comprimen y ocupan lugares especiales en el recuerdo del exiliado, pero cuando se arrancan del recuerdo y entran en la realidad, la cosa cambia. Las garitas del morro apestan. San Juan no es lo que se recuerda y los negocios están cerrados. Todo es ridículamente caro. La playa está llena de basura. Siempre hay tapón de camino al paraíso. Los supermercados son un chiste de mal gusto. Las universidades son espejo de los supermercados. El jíbaro de las canciones está extinto o escondido. Todo es crimen. La política es un lodazal repleto de cerdos contentos con su déficit neuronal, falta de ideas y estancamiento convulsivo. Al país le hace falta una mano de pintura y una buena revolución.

Ante la cruda realidad, el exiliado que regresa, se calla y acepta lo que ve con resignación. El plan era volver, ayudar, contribuir, cambiar la realidad. Como dijo Pedro, los sueños sueños son. No hay trabajos a los que retornar. No hay paz. Las oportunidades compartieron el destino de los dinosaurios.

Ah, se ama la patria, pero se regresa al pájaro de hierro con el corazón un poco más roto y, de camino a esa nueva casa que nunca será realmente casa, se redobla la fuerza con la que se guardan los imaginarios de una patria que sólo es dentro del exiliado.

El autor es estudiante doctoral.

Pueden leer la original aquí.

Bizarro Con 2012: A Chronicle of Weirdness

Humans are nothing without memories. In the case of writers, those little remnants of people, places, things, songs, and books come and gone are infinitely valuable. On a cold January morning, I pulled out a notebook full of scribbled annotations from a trip to Portland, OR, I took in November. It was the chronicle of a great time spent in the company of ridiculously talented individuals. Here are some of the highlights.

Friday, November 16, 2012 – 9:53 a.m.

Right outside the airplane’s window, the majestic Columbia river twists its way to the Pacific Ocean. The silver snake reflects the morning sun and keeps Washington and Oregon separated. In a few minutes the metallic bird will land in Portland International Airport. Then I’ll be on my way to Edgefield Hotel, a historic and very peculiar 74-acre parcel of farmland at the mouth of the Columbia River Gorge. There’s a lot to see in Portland, but I’m here for BizarroCon, the largest gathering of bizarro writers, artists, and fans in the world. It’s also the place to be for anyone interested in the goings-on of the top independent presses in the nation and the weirdest, craziest, most awe-inspiring party/get-together/family reunion you’ve never been to. Color me ecstatic.

Friday, November 16, 2012 – 11:14 a.m.

I leave my bags in the room I’m sharing with horror author and Sinister Grin Press editor Shane McKenzie. As a welcoming gift, Shane left a severed arm on the carpet. I’m not joking. I’m running down a hallway on my way to a workshop offered by the biggest name in bizarro fiction, Carlton Mellick III. Before I can make it there, someone calls out my name. I know a lot of people here, but haven’t met face-to-face with most of them. I turn around. The man calling me is Kevin Shamel, author of The Island of the Super People and editor for Eraserhead Press. He’s also the man responsible for most of the authors in the 2012 New Bizarro Author Series. Since I’m lucky enough to be in this years’ group, Kevin and I have known each other “digitally” for a while. We hug like good friends who haven’t seen each other in a long time. That might be strange anywhere else, but this is BizarroCon.

Friday, November 16, 2012 – 1:16 p.m.

I listened to Carlton Mellick talk about the ins and outs of writing for a cult audience. The experience is akin to learning a few blues licks from BB King. Now I’m sitting in the same room while horror author Brian Keene talks about the benefits and possible pitfalls of developing a persona. Keene is a knowledgeable man who’s gone through the best and worst the publishing industry has to offer. I’m taking notes.

Friday, November 16, 2012 – 2:49 p.m.

There’s a man kneeling on the floor with a flaming piece of paper in his hands. He’s reading a funny, dirty story. He burns his fingers a few times. As each paper burns, he throws it in a bucket and grabs another one. A masked woman keeps lighting them on fire. This is how authors Michael Allen Rose and Spike Marlowe entertain a crowd.

Saturday, November 17, 2012 – 3:37 a.m.

I’ve consumed unhealthy amounts of Bizarro Beer. The interesting concoctions, which ranged in taste from fruity to kick-in-the-teeth jalapeño, were brewed by Rose O’Keefe, publisher and CEO of Eraserhead Press. It’s cold outside as I stand there talking books with Andersen Prunty, a man whose work I admire. Although I’m tired, my mind is reeling. In the preceding hours, I watched great performances by Kirsten Alene Pierce, Andrew Goldfarb, Carlton Mellick III, Cameron Pierce, and Kevin L. Donihe. I also played a part in Shane Mckenzie’s performance, a crazy, redneck cannibal-infused, noodle-throwing bit of mayhem. I’m sure the stains will stay on the carpet of The Ad House for a while.

Saturday, November 17, 2012 – 9:33 a.m.

Despite last night’s shenanigans, we’re all up and enjoying a special breakfast. Sitting at the same table are the members of last year’s New Bizarro Author Series and us, the new guys. The veterans imparting hard-earned knowledge on the book business are Spike Marlowe, Constance Ann Fitzgerald, Justin Grimbol, Michael Allen Rose, Vince Kramer, and Troy Chambers. The new guys are Tamara Romero, Gary Arthur Brown, Shane Cartledge, Joseph Wargo, Andrew Wayne Adams, and me. We’re excited to be here and we’re soaking up what these folks are telling us. The NBAS is a competition, but it’s also something so special, everyone becomes one big, bizarre family.

Saturday, November 17, 2012 – 12:47 p.m.

Brian Keene, Robert Devereaux, Jeremy Robert Johnson, Mykle Hansen, and Kevin Shamel are talking about the writing life. Their words come with the sharp edges of honesty, but they’re neatly wrapped in humor. The fact that everyone in that room still wants to be a writer after the first twenty minutes is a testament to the power of what we do.

Saturday, November 17, 2012 – 1:39 p.m.

Robert Devereaux and Brian Keene stuck around and were joined by Shane McKenzie, John Skipp, and Jeff Burk. They’re talking about the current state of horror fiction. The title of their panel? What To Do With A Poo-Flavored Dick. Only at BizarroCon.

Saturday, November 17, 2012 – 4:33 p.m.

I took a red balloon filled with two cups of ketchup and bit into it. The explosion sent ketchup flying in every direction, including my nostrils. Despite the smell of the condiment fiercely sticking to my nose and face, it was a great experience. I read from Gutmouth, my book, and joined my fellow NABSers in what can only be described as a circus. From talking potatoes to the confessions of a twisted janitor, we made sure to leave a mark in the face of BizarroCon.

Saturday, November 17, 2012 – 9:41 p.m.

The Wonderland Book Awards were announced. Laura Lee Bahr took home Best Novel for Haunt and Jeremy Robert Johnson did the same for Best Collection with We Live Inside You. I’d read both titles, and they deserved to win. There were tears of happiness. Some of them came from Laura. Now The Ultimate Bizarro Showdown is underway. There’s music, props, singing, comedy, shaving, madness, and some reading. Mykle Hansen, who’s keeping things somewhat in order, is dangerously smart and really funny. This might just be the best entertainment on Earth.

Sunday, November 18, 2012 – 4:01 a.m.

I’ve been working really hard on assuring a hangover of epic proportions at some point on Sunday. For now, I push away the memory of that plane I have to catch in the afternoon. I’m happy. I swallow more booze and think about the things I’ve learned:

1. John Skipp is as cool as you think he is.
2. Justin Grimbol and Heather Hewitt are two of the coolest people you can ever hope to meet.
3. Rose O’Keefe’s smile packs enough wattage to light a small town for a week.
4. Jeremy Robert Johnson wants to marry himself. His intelligence and wit are enough to make you hate his guts.
5. Carlton Mellick is an affable man who randomly transforms into a reading/performing monster. He keeps the heads of alien babies in the pockets of his trench coat.
6. Kevin Shamel is my brother. He knows Bigfoot. His mohawk is full of magic.
7. There’s not enough time in the world to talk books with Michael Kazepis and Edmund Colell.
8. Robert Devereaux hides a pair of wings under his shirt.
9. Laura Lee Bahr’s soul is so sweet and kind, you’ll want to hug her for hours … and then murder a baby panda for the sake of balance.
10. Cameron Pierce is capable of force feeding tater tots to a man twice his size.

BizarroCon is about the best in independent publishing, bringing together folks from Eraserhead Press, Lazy Fascist Press, Deadite Press, Swallowdown Press, Grindhouse Press, Atlatl Press, and others. It’s also a gathering of people who love, admire, inspire, and respect one another. I went to present my book and spend time with a few friends. By the time I left, I was part of a tribe. That, even to a jagged cynic like me, is a very beautiful thing. If I were you, I’d try not to miss it this year.

Buscapié: Litertortura

Litertortura

Gabino Iglesias

            Hace casi un año se publicó mi primer libro, Gutmouth. Parte de una competencia, el libro pertenece al género bizarro, un animal literario que critica y se ríe desde el espacio que se abrió a golpes la literatura posmoderna. Como buen puertorriqueño, el día que el libro salió al mercado una voz en mi cabeza dijo "Tranquilo, el apoyo boricua es incondicional". Boxeadores, reinas de belleza, cantantes, y una larga línea de etcéteras lo demuestran. Por desgracia, nadie me dijo que eso no le aplicaba a los escritores.

            Para regar la voz escribí correos a los medios. La voz me aseguraba que me harían caso. A los críticos culturales nadie los ignora porque temen caer en su mirilla, me decía la voz...y mentía. La mitad de los correos no recibieron respuesta. Algunos recibieron respuestas tristes: cada vez se publican menos artículos sobre libros. Yo insistía. La carrera de Jovani Vázquez ocupa a los periodistas culturales. Yo intentaba controlar mi cinismo. La voz callaba.

           

            Me llegaron mensajes de escritores boricuas. Me explicaban que sus libros se habían ahogado en silencio, que los había arrastrado el olvido al rincón más recóndito de la nada. Compartíamos la pérdida de lectores. La voz me ignoraba si le preguntaba por qué la crítica estadounidense abrazaba mi libro y la de mi patria no. En febrero salió la versión digital del libro y la voz revivió. Me enseñaba artículos sobre la popularidad de los "ebooks". No pasó nada. "Oye", decía la voz, "por lo menos a Eduardo Lalo lo quieren en Venezuela, piensa en eso".   

            Gutmouth fue nominado al Wonderland Book Award, un premio anual que se otorga a la literatura anómala, sucia, inusual, peligrosa. La voz y yo nos negábamos a aceptar el silencio. Escribimos otra vez. El resultado fue el mismo. Mi amor por los escritores boricuas creció. A un mes del final del concurso, la voz desapareció una noche. Dejó una nota en la nevera: "Hacer litertortura es cosa de locos. Suerte." Yo aproveché el silencio y empecé otra novela.  

Puede comprar el ebook aquí. 
Pueden comprar el libro en carpeta blanda aquí. 

Buscapié: Ay, Chuchin

Perdonen la tardanza. Aquí les dejo la columna de ayer. 

 

8 de septiembre de 2013

Ay, Chuchin

Gabino Iglesias

Ay, Chuchin. Durante mucho tiempo fuiste un macharrán quintaesencial de traje y corbata, un típico político de corta moral, nulo intelecto e inexplicable éxito. Te reías en programas de radio y tu sonrisa pícara aparecía en los periódicos. En aquel entonces insistías en que del Capitolio te sacaban sólo si era en ataúd y hacías alarde del misterioso vehículo que conducías, aunque tu sueldo no daba para pagarlo.

Te llamaban jocoso, simpático, pintoresco. Tristemente, tu discurso se pudrió. Poco después de hacerte famosillo dejabas caer la cresta y salías corriendo de la oficina como quien escapa de la lluvia fría porque te pisaba los talones la Comisión de Ética.

Lo del carro te lo dejaron pasar con ficha y nadie se sorprendió cuando salió a la luz pública que, como muchos otros amantes de la palma, no hablabas inglés. Sin embargo, eso de salir corriendo con el rabo entre las patas te quedó feo. En un país donde la virilidad es tan importante, hay que ser más De Castro Font y menos Usain Bolt. Ahora, en lugar de revivir la actitud de chulo que tan popular te hizo con el pueblo, terminas de emborronar tu risible legado tratando de escabullirte del juicio que te espera con una carta de un siquiatra. Qué triste.

Por favor, Chuchin, échale una buena dosis de fortaleza testicular al asunto y aparécete sonriendo en corte, siéntate cómodo en donde te dé la gana y ráscate la entrepierna como lo hacías en el Capitolio. No se puede ser machote y cobarde, figura pública y tímido, tramposo, pero no apto para enfrentar un proceso criminal.

Chuchin, sabemos que no entiendes de falsificaciones ideológicas y que te importa más un Bentley que la desfiguración de la verdad, pero por lo menos dinos que el que se rascaba, festejaba y reía eras tú.

Que nos haga trampa un verdadero y vigoroso político sonriente es casi aceptable, pero que nos la haga un mentiroso cobarde y alicaído, es imperdonable.

El autor es estudiante doctoral.

Pueden ver el original aquí. 

Author interview: Adam Cesare

Adam Cesare has impressed me with every book he's published, and that's no easy task. Cesare is writing horror that's fun to read and unlike anything else out there. There's gore, great characters, plenty of nostalgia, and humor in his work. For a while he was a rising star. Now he says he's still the new kid on the block, but he's the new kid that came from another school, has a tattoo on his neck, is a few years older than everyone else, and walks around with a bloodied bat. In any case, I asked Adam some questions about his writing, books, film, horror, and everything in between. Check out what he had to say.

GI: At one point we briefly discussed what "making it" means. You have four books out, one on the way, reviews in superb venues...have you made it? Are you on your way there? Is there such a thing as making it nowadays?

AC: Hmmm… why do you have to start with your hardball questions right out of the gate?

I don’t know if, for me, because I plan to be doing this a long time, there is a definitive tipping point into “made” status. Besides the obvious (and not super likely) #1 NYTimes Bestseller-sitting-on-the-Today-Show-couch-next-to-a-wired-Kathy-Lee-Gifford status, I feel like I’m always just going to be looking to make whatever project I’m working on the best it can be.

I’m happy for every piece of praise/press/criticism my books get and if you would have told me two years ago how well things would be going right now, I wouldn’t have believed you. But it’s not the past and right now I just need to focus on the next thing (or the next five things, as it seems to be going right now).

GI: Speaking of having a few books under your belt, how do you manage to balance work and writing?

AC: Ha! Poorly. If I’m in the thick of work, I try to at least get a little done every day. I try to mix up my writing goals based on context. The amount of words/scenes I’m shooting for will vary based on the amount of time I feel that I’m going to be able to set aside for that session. Figuring that out before I sit down seems to be the trick.

Recently I’ve had nothing but time, I’m close to full-time writing and it feels AMAZING. Like, I couldn’t believe how slow I was moving before, but now I’m super-charged. It’s one of those times you don’t want to end.

GI: While we're talking about writing, where do you think horror is right now and where do you see it in a few years?

AC: We’re living in a cool time in that much of what big publishing is putting out should appeal to fans of the horror genre. There are crime writers right now (Gillian Flynn, Megan Abbott, Duane Swierczynski, J. David Osborne) who are toeing the line of their own genre, writing very dark stuff. Horror needs to look at that style, let it influence them. Then I would not be surprised if next year’s biggest hit was fully in the genre. After that we all just sit back and soak in the rays, history repeats itself and we’re back in the golden mass market of the eighties.

But besides that? Horror is strong. Even on the sliding scale of “literary-ness” within the genre I think you’ve got power-players at both ends of the spectrum and spread pretty evenly in between. 

GI: Your work is definitely horror, but it's also fun. You make campy a cool adjective again. Video Night, for example, is full of fun and nostalgia even while arachnid alien forms are bursting out of people's faces. Is the fun part premeditated or a result of the fun you're having as you write it?

AC: I think it’s a little bit more premeditated, but there’s also stuff that happens when you’re writing that leads to a kind of self-one-upmanship. I think that story would have to be written that way anyway. I’m trying to imagine the tone being more somber, but it just doesn’t work if it’s not fun.

My next one (The Summer Job) is a conscious decision to get away from that, though. Just because I didn’t want to wind up writing the same book for my second full-length novel, so I tried to steer myself as hard in the other direction as I could. It’s still fun, though. I don’t want to scare anyone away.

GI: Speaking of campy fun, what role does cinema play in your writing? You love cinema and studied cinema: which of your books would make the best film? (For more on his thoughts on film, check out My Dream for Today's Monster Kid). 

AC: All of them should be movies. Please make all option checks payable to “Cash” and send them to…

Oh, you wanted a serious answer.

I love movies, but with what I’ve been writing recently I think the influence is less in your face. I read as much as possible and as widely as possible, but movies (features or shorts) will always be faster to consume, so I feel like films quickly allow me to explore the genre from multiple perspectives. Then I expand on (or pilfer) those perspectives and try and bring them back to horror fiction readers.

As I’m sure you’ve noticed, and we might have even talked about at some point: the horror community seems to be full of schisms. There are horror movie fans and horror fiction readers, with a (small) overlap in between. Even within the group of readers/writers, some writers either limit themselves to reading horror (or much worse), read only one era, style or exclusively books written by their friends.

I’m all for bringing everyone who considers themselves a horror fan (of any stripe, whatever that means to them) together at a big party and having a sing-along of War’s “Why Can’t We Be Friends?”

GI: I think most modern horror movies suck, but horror novels keep getting better and better. Those are my two cents, now give me yours.

AC: I agree with you on a lot of things, but I think we strongly disagree here. For the last few decades, it seems, great horror cinema has been hiding from the general public at film festivals. You’d hear about great movies and a few would get wide distribution, slipping through, but then there was a lot of stuff that either languished on the shelf or was released quietly on DVD with a crap Photoshop cover.

With VOD, distributors are getting better at selling these movies directly to an audience that wants and respects them and I think it’s having a direct impact on quality movies getting made with appropriate budgets.

Yeah, there’s still crap out there. But every genre/format/art form has a lot of not-so-good stuff produced alongside the good. It’s easier to find the good stuff now.

If you want specific answers, I loved You’re Next (even though, as most people have been saying, it was sold as a completely different movie and I think that blew up in Lionsgate’s face) and I think one of the most exciting genre filmmakers in forever, Ben Wheatley, is partly a product of this recent boom.

My friend Matt Garrett is a filmmaker and short film programmer and he’s been turning me on to all these people that are even under my radar (and I always thought I had a pretty deep radar), so there’s always more to see.

GI: The Summer Job isn't coming out until January and it's already generating a buzz, getting reviewed, being loved on LitReactor by Cameron Pierce, etc. What can you tell us about it? Is it your favorite book so far?

AC: When Cameron put it on that list, with the company he did, I was pretty much flabbergasted. Also he was only one of two or three people that I’d sent an early version to, so I really wasn’t expecting it to show up in a column about “summer reads.”

It’s my attempt at “folk horror” which, to me, is an inherently British genre. So, with my Boston connection, this one is New England folk horror.

By the time I actually wrote it, it had deviated a bit from the original concept, but I think it’s stronger for it. I’m really proud of it. I think if you put it next to another upcoming release I’ve got coming out (Zero Lives Remaining, a ghost story that takes place in a video arcade, out in April from Shock Totem) you’d have a pretty good cross-section of what I like to do and what interests me. ZLR is more in the Tribesmen/Video Night style of things, but newer and tighter, and The Summer Job is the new hotness. I’m proud of everything that’s coming out in the rest of this year and 2014.

GI: What novels would you recommend? Movies?

AC: Right now I’m reading Megan Abbott’s cheerleader noir, Dare Me. It came out over a year ago and I wanted to read it then, but I’m just getting to it in The List.

You sent me Tao Lin’s Taipei. And that was pretty great. Thanks for that.

In genre, I just read Wrath James White’s new novella Voracious and it reminded me of how good a vehicle extreme horror is for satire/commentary. It’s about “thin culture” I guess.

For movies, I’ve been a homebody more recently because of the uptick in quality catalog genre releases on DVD/Blu. I’m getting many of the Scream Factory, Vinegar Syndrome and Kino/Redemption special editions and they’re all great and make me think physical media is becoming a more boutique format for people that care about the quality of their movies (not only the transfer but the complete package).

GI: What are you working on now?

Lots of things. But, speaking of movies…a screenplay.

I’ve also got not one, but three, collaborative fiction projects in the pipeline. Those are all amazing and I’m getting to work with people who are way better than me. So I get to ride their coattails.

GI: John Skipp said this about you: "Of all the new writers busting out on the scene, Cesare’s the young guy with the greatest encyclopedic gorehound know-how, blistering cinematic pace, unquenchable love of both fiction and film, and hell-bent will to entertain." Is there some new kid on the block whose fiction excites you the same way yours excited Skipp?

AC: Haha. I’m still the new kid on the block! I’m only now getting the invites to the cool pool parties!

There’s a bizarro writer that I think’s got what it takes, though. Scott Cole. He has a few short stories out that are good, but he told me about the novella he’s writing and the concept is so good. It’s one of those ideas that you can’t believe it’s never been done before, then you ask him how many people he’s told about it, then you kill him with a shovel and write it yourself.

Thanks, Adam! Now you should go and check out his books on Amazon here. More importantly, you should pre-order The Summer Job here. Last but not least, follow Adam on Twitter at @Adam_Cesare. The guy is pretty funny in there, so don't miss out.  

Buscapié: Tecnofobia

Aquí les dejo la columna del domingo. 

 

14 de julio de 2013

Tecnofobia

Gabino Iglesias

Estoy sentado en el aeropuerto. Delante de mí, una señora cuya cara haría a un “bulldog” parecer el animal más feliz del mundo, mueve los dedos sobre la pantalla de una tableta. En los aeropuertos me fascina mirar a la gente, pero esta señora no ofrece nada de interés. Cuatro asientos a la derecha de la dama hay un gordito de unos ocho años. Tiene un celular en las manos. Su cuerpo inmóvil es el opuesto perfecto de sus pulgares: parecen gruesas lombrices en pleno ataque de epilepsia. Al lado del impúber está su “telefoadicta” madre. Ella tiene los ojos muertos, como de tiburón, pero sólo usa un pulgar en intermitentes movimientos horizontales.

Abandono al dúo y sigo buscando. Dos sillas después hay un hombre hundido en su asiento. También tiene una tableta. Su ceño está hecho un nudo. Con un dedo desplaza piezas en un juego del que parece depender su vida y la de sus seres queridos. A su lado, un padre supervisa sus dos hijas entre miradas a su celular. Ambas criaturas sujetan iPads a pocas pulgadas de sus respectivas narices. Su mudez y quietud me parecen dolorosamente anacrónicas. Aquí algo anda mal.

Al final de la fila de asientos, una madre dormita mientras su polluelo aporrea un aparato electrónico con los dedos. Tiene la boca abierta y una cínica voz interna empieza a jugar: “Te apuesto el 10 por ciento del ápice de respeto que te queda por la humanidad a que el pequeño se babea”.

Con desespero empiezo a buscar un libro o, a falta de semejante artilugio arcaico, un par de pupilas cuyo fluido movimiento horizontal delate que su dueño está leyendo. Cinco minutos y cientos de aparatos después, una sinuosa depresión se me va enroscando en los tobillos y saco mi libro para abandonar el mundo un rato. Huelo el papel. Acaricio la portada.

Estaremos conectados y tendremos un universo de información en el bolsillo, pero a mí esta sana tecnofobia no me la quita nadie.

n El autor es estudiante doctoral.

Pueden leer el original aquí.

Author interview: Josh Stallings

Josh Stallings is a hell of a writer and he's lead a hell of a life. The result is not surprising: a fantastic noir memoir. I read All the Wild Children, published by Snubnose Press, and reviewed it for Out of the Gutter. However, I wasn't done. I wanted more. There were a few questions I had to ask and then man himself agreed to answer them. Here they are.

GI: Writing fiction isn't easy (you know, the good kind), but putting stuff out there that you invented is a piece of cake compared to sharing your life. What made you decide to share your memories with readers?

JS: I started writing it in that mental hospital day room. At the time I was looking at my son and trying to find the road that led to that impossible moment. The more I wrote the more it started to take shape as a book. I wasn't sure yet if I would publish it. I sent it to fellow crime writer Charlie Huston, he said it was the most compelling thing he'd read in years. Said I should rewrite it, yes, but get it out there. I still wasn't sure, asked my wife, she is my first reader and editor of all early drafts. She said it was too personal about our family, she also said she felt it was important and should be put in the world. Decision made.  

Then the hard part, finding a publisher for this odd beast of a book. As literature I think it functions more like a map of a man's mind than a memoir. It is a series of interlinking essays, David Sedaris' work is closest to it's style, but darker. A big time agent told me it was brilliant and he had no idea what to do with it. Another called it literary gymnastics, but what publisher would buy it in today's market?
 

Enter Keith Rawson, he suggested I give Snubnose Press a try. Their first response was "we don't do memoirs." I told Brian Lindenmuth it had guns, sex and drugs, so he agreed to read it. And then publish it. To make it fit better into the Snubnose ethos I called it a Noir Memoir, that stuck.

Pub date set, it hit me. Fuck! Scary?  Hell yes. But the emails I get from readers confirm that my wife was right, it needed to be in the world.

GI: You use emails and phone conversations in the text as ways of helping you stay true to the facts. Was there any time when telling things a certain way clashed with your compromise to accuracy? How did you go about clarifying things when your memory was fuzzy about something?

JS: In the opening of the book I wrote - "What you are about to read is at best the recollections of a man with a weak memory but a strong sense of what it felt like. Truth is personal. We are all the heroes of our own narrative, this is mine." In the introduction, novelist Tad Williams wrote - "Every word that Josh writes in this book is true. I tell you that not just because I witnessed and participated in many of the events, but because that's who Josh is -- he's compulsively honest." My mother said - "I don't need to read any more of this crap, I guess it makes a good story, but if you want to know what happened, ask me."

Readers will have to decide what is true, but I suspect truth is a moving target.

I included emails from my brother that contradict my version to continually remind the reader, this is one man's view. Truth is elusive. 

I made two rules 1) never ever lie and 2) use my mind as the source material.
 

I think the purpose of memoir as a form is about personal truth, whereas autobiographies are about verifiable facts. It is not possible to verify how the summer of love felt to a ten year old. Or what you think of yourself the first time you wear platforms to your mostly Black school and someone calls you "Fly." 

GI: How did your family react to the finished book?

JS: ROUGH. Some at least. Others thanked me for getting it right. A few members believed they held the sacred family truth and I had pissed in their chapel. My son told me he was proud, this was my art and he could see it wasn't about him. My old man said he didn't argue with his poet son. All and all, I got attacked from the hills I expected cannon fire to come from.

GI: Were you writing fiction while working on All the Wild Children? Did you have a hard time transitioning back to fiction once you were done with it?

JS: For my process writing fiction takes a lot of real life walking around in character's shoes, and reading a lot of primary source interviews. So it's not too far apart. The bitch with fiction is I don't outline so I never know how it will end. Same can't be said for the memoir. Spoiler Alert -- I live.

I tattooed the word TRUTH on my arm when All The Wild Children was published, to remind myself that even fiction needs to be true. Not the details, but the heart, the feelings have to be told as true as I know it.

GI: The parts that deal with your kids contain some of the most hearth-wrenching and brutally honest writing I've come across in a while. Was the writing process painful? Cleansing? Both?

JS: Yes, both, but here is the fact; living through seeing your son in jail is undoable. Seeing your son in a locked mental ward is undoable. But you do it nonetheless. You love in the face of all that. Writing is a way of making beauty out of pain. 

GI: All the Wild Children is not a finished narrative. What's going on with you now? What will we read from you next?

 

JS: In the back of the book I put in a roll call to let readers know where all the players are.  My narrative is learning what and who I am beyond all that has happened.

Early this upcoming winter ONE MORE BODY (Moses #3) will be out. It is a beast of a book, I'm damn proud of it. After that I have a standalone cooking. Maybe I will find an agent and see about some movie ideas.

GI: Got any books you'd care to recommend?

JS: "Abide With Me" by Ian Ayris is fucking brilliant. He is a writer to watch. "The Storm Giants" by Pierce Hansen is also stunning. Hansen is amazing. There are so many great books out there now, time is the bitch.

GI: Anything else you'd like to add about the All the Wild Children experience?

JS: Yes, it is also blazingly funny in parts, as hardcore glitter boys in the 70's we had us a time. My time in the movie business is a wicked and comic romp. I hope it reads like a good novel, fast and full of the spectrum of emotions.

Thanks, Josh!

All the Wild Children does read like a novel. A fantastic novel full of action, truth, heartbreak, blood, and love. To read my full review for Out of the Gutter, click here. Now go grab a copy.

Buscapié: Todopoderoso

El mes pasado no salió la columna en la versión digital de El Nuevo Día. Por alguna razón, este mes pasó lo mismo. Espero que sea la última vez porque compartir el enlace es más fácil y cómodo que tener que buscar el original y ponerlo aquí. En cualquier caso, aquí les dejo la columna de hoy. 

Todopoderoso

por: Gabino Iglesias

           

            El pederasta de turno camina cabizbajo y escucha alaridos defensores aplastar las preguntas que le lanzan los periodistas. "Esto es una injusticia y Dios lo sabe", dice una señora mayor preñada de ira, carente de neuronas, y entregada a la inacción que suele desembocar en fervor religioso. "Ese hombre es un santo", continúa la dama. "Nuestro Dios va a levantar banderas. Nuestro Dios es un ser real y poderoso y en quien hemos creído y Dios sabe que le hemos creído a él."

            De repente se escucha el ruido de mil truenos y el cielo se abre. Una nube con bocinas Bose integradas desciende lentamente. Cuando la nube llega el suelo, Dios se baja y saludo con una mano a la anonadada muchedumbre. Sin mediar palabra, el Creador, que es mucho más bajito y moreno de lo que todos esperaban, se acerca a la señora, la agarra por la camisa y la abofetea.

            "Mira, imbécil", dice el Santísimo Padre mientras reparte bofetadas, "estoy harto de que los religiosos anden tocando niños y que gente como tu los defienda. A estas alturas deberían saber que los niños no se tocan, que son un regalo mío y que de ellos es el reino ese al que ustedes tanto aspiran, panda de catetos."

            Cuando la cara de la señora parece carne molida, el Todopoderoso la suelta, levita un poco, entona una estrofa de El Todopoderoso con la voz de Héctor Lavoe y se dirige al atónito grupo que le observa.

            "Si dos tipos agradables quieren criar un niño, ustedes le saltan a la yugular. Sin embargo, siguen metiéndose en iglesias y callando las vergüenzas de tíos y abuelos depravados. Me parece que merecen otro diluvio. En fin, me voy. Tengo que ir a trabajar de manera misteriosa. En el ínterin, les doy permiso a colgar por los testículos en la plaza publica a cualquiera que toque un niño. Se me cuidan." 

            Al día siguiente, los religiosos "interpretan" las palabras del señor de la nube como les da la gana y no cuelgan a nadie.  

Gutmouth shouldn't be read all by itself...so here are some free books!

Those who think getting published is a challenge should try selling some books. Times are tough, and getting folks to part with their money is like trying to kick water uphill. That being said, I still have to sell books, so I figured out a way to sweeten the deal for those who spend their coffee money on a copy of Gutmouth: giving them free books. Since Gutmouth is bizarro with healthy doses of horror and noir, I put together some book packages that will hopefully appeal to devout readers of each of those genres. I also threw in some super hero books and something for brave readers who are willing to step out of their comfort zone and give my book a chance. So, here's the deal: if you buy a copy of Gutmouth (paperback or digital, whatever works for you) and send me proof of purchase, you can pick one of the combos below and I'll mail it to you, along with a little surprise as a token of my undying love and appreciation. Here's what's up for grabs:

Package #1: Crime

1. Port Vila Blues by Garry Disher (Soho Crime, August 2012, 237 pages, hardcover. $22.50)
2. Death's Door by James R. Benn (Soho Crime, September 2012, 338 pages, hardcover. $16.99)

Package #2: Super hero

 

1. Prepare to Die! by Paul Tobin (Night Shade Books, May 2012, 350 pages, hardcover. $24.29)

2. Batman by Andrew Vachss (Warner Books, First edition, November 1995, hardcover.)

Package #3: Zombies

1. Survivors by Z.A. Recht (Permuted Press, June 2012, 320 pages, paperback. $12.28)
2. Shattered Hourglass by J.L. Bourne (Permuted Press, December 2012, 336 pages, paperback. $11.92)

Package #4: YA/Romance

1. Escape Theory by Margaux Froley (Soho Teen, March 2013, 272 pages, hardcover. $13.03)
2. The Spy Lover by Kiana Davenport (Thomas & Mercer, August 2012, 303 pages, paperback. $8.97)

Package #5: For brave souls only

This is a secret package. I can tell you this: it will include my ARC of Tao Lin's new novel, Taipei, which I absolutely loved. As for the rest, you'll only find out of you're brave enough.

There you have it. It's easy: buy my book, send me an email at gabinoiglesias@gmail.com letting me know, get more books. They're all brand spanking new, so you're won't be getting crappy, coffee-stained tomes. Ready to read? You can get the paperback version of Gutmouth here and the kindle version here.

UPDATE: Package #5 is gone. 

Buscapié: Guagua

21 de abril de 2013

Guagua

Gabino Iglesias

El joven se sube en la guagua y toma asiento. El graffiti de la ventana ni le añade ni le quita encanto al dilapidado mundo que hay del otro lado. Los movimientos del autobús y el calor de la tarde lo adormecen, pero las conversaciones que hay a su alrededor le golpean con fragmentos que espantan a Morfeo.

“Sí, nena, la chiquita de Juanma. Ya tiene cinco meses de embarazo y lo que tiene son catorce trapo de años”, dice una señora con “dubi” y una colección de arrugas en la frente.

“Papi, si se pone payaso, tú sabes que me puedes llamar y yo te resuelvo. Cuando el mamao ése vea la nueve se le va a quitar lo de macho”, le escupe a su celular un macharrán con una gorra que aún tiene pegado todo lo que tenía pegado el día que la compraron.

“Y cuando seamos estado, esa guachafita se va acabar. Con el plebiscito que viene ahora la estadidad está en el bolsillo. Lo que yo quiero ver es con qué excusa van a volver pa’ la isla todos los que se fueron cuando la cosa estaba mala”, argumenta un caballero entrado en años y con cara de pocos amigos.

“Kim ya se metió en las doscientas libras. Lo acabo de ver en una revista haciendo fila en el supermercado”, declara una joven con uñas kilométricas.

El joven trata de ignorar lo que escucha. La gente está llena de opiniones insólitas y argumentos blandos. Para él, poco importa la letanía de ridiculeces con las que se ocupan. Sus problemas son más serios: no tiene trabajo, no hay dinero para pagar los préstamos estudiantiles, su novia está embarazada y esperar los resultados de la biopsia de su madre es algo que le quita el sueño.

Afuera el Sol empieza a meterse en el mar. En el horizonte hay nubes, y no un hongo nuclear. Eso es bueno. Mañana es otro día. La lucha sigue.

El autor es estudiante doctoral.

Pueden ver el original aquí. 

Buscapié: Dicotomía

9 de marzo de 2013

Dicotomía
Gabino Iglesias

Puerto Rico lo hace mejor. La frase cuelga sobre nosotros como la cuchilla de una guillotina ideológica que el día menos pensado nos degüella el último sueño. Por desgracia, son pocos los que pueden hacer algo para evitarlo y menos aún los que se dan cuenta. Sin embargo, y como siempre, no es nuestra culpa. Desde niños nos inculcaron un orgullo fanático por la patria, pero se olvidaron de inyectarle al discurso una dosis de realismo.

“Tenemos las playas más bonitas, los mejores deportistas, los artistas más talentosos, las mujeres más hermosas y la gente con el mejor corazón”, nos dijeron. Nosotros, inocentes al fin, nos lo creímos. Nadie habló de la falta de educación, de los políticos incompetentes, de la violencia, la corrupción, el crimen y la larga lista de etcéteras que nos van empujando hacia el abismo. Hermosa criatura oriunda del paraíso terrenal, creció dentro de nosotros como un cáncer la idea de que merecíamos todo. Es difícil ponerse a buscar fallos cuando se está ante la perfección hecha país.

Ah, pero con los años vino la verdad, preñada de historia y circunstancias. Con manos ásperas se nos quitó la sonrisa a bofetones. No nos prepararon para nada. Las playas están sucias y no hay dinero. En la calle ronda la huesuda. La educación es “educasion”. Votarle al menos malo es sistema de imbéciles.

Las realidades fueron juntándose encima de un orgullo patrio que se aferra a cualquier cosa para no desplomarse. Cualquier minucia, cualquier concurso, cualquier evento de poca monta es suficiente para mantenerse a flote si nos permite decir que se puso “el nombre de Puerto Rico en alto”.

En el mundo real, cruel matadero de quimeras, se desangra la falsa utopía, se largan los que pueden, se añaden masacres a la lista, se ríen los políticos, se van acabando las opciones, se desmoronan las posibilidades. Entre el Puerto Rico que nos rodea y el que nos vendieron hay una dicotomía más grande que el Yunque. ¿Y ahora?

•El autor es estudiante doctoral.

Pueden ver el original aquí.

An interview with author Michael J. Seidlinger

I recently decided to start doing author interviews for this blog. The last two years or so have been a blast and I've had a chance to meet and read some truly talented writers. As a book reviewer, sometimes reading the book and publishing a review is not enough: you want to know something about the author behind the words. To kick this thing off, I decided to send some questions to Michael J. Seidlinger. He made an impression on me with The Sky Conducting and then followed that up with My Pet Serial Killer (you can read the review of MPSK I wrote for The Chiaroscuro here). Michael is a very talented writer and his economy of language and mixed-genre narratives are a must for anyone who enjoys a good, intelligent story. The interview was a lot of fun and Michael shared some dark secrets, so make sure you read the whole thing. Off we go.

GI- You could easily find a job in the exciting world of fast food, so why did you choose to be a writer instead?

MJS- I can flip the pages better than I could ever flip burgers. I mean, think about it - fast food is the bare minimum of being able to cook. What happens to those people that couldn't cook even a hot dog? I'm one of those inept people that can't do anything better than toast. And guess what - I burn my toast every single time. I wish I were lying but I'm not. This is depressing, actually. Now people know something about me that I would have preferred to keep hidden. I'll burn your kitchen down if you let me and it will have been an accident.

GI- With every new novel, you seem to reinvent a genre. With My Pet Serial Killer, you turned the serial killer novel and the psychological thriller on their heads and created something entirely new and very twisted. Do you start out trying to make genres feel new or are you just incredibly lucky?

MJS- I definitely don't intend on reinvention and I am most definitely not lucky. My life decisions and my checking account can both attest to this. However, what I usually do when it comes to creating a potential concept for a novel is I tend to write down the first details, always received in the form of images, down in a notepad. These images feed off each other and, if there's anything worthwhile, they tend to fit together like a puzzle. Images become ideas become actual plot points, characters, and scenes. I am not usually confident enough to get started until the concept has resonance. I define "resonance" as the underlying marrow, the spine of the narrative, but without having to do with the narrative itself. It surrounds, smothers, and accompanies the narrative. It's not only a web of themes to be explored but also philosophical/sociological/theoretical commentaries. In the case of The Sky Conducting, the resonance of the piece came from the use of artifacts, the spoilage of material objects, and the consumer effect (the mall under the mall). With My Pet Serial Killer, the resonance of the piece came from the italicized scenes, the choice to keep the entire story confined to apartment, school campus, and party-locations, and frequent fourth-wall breaking. All of these ingredients form that so-called "resonance," the texture and depth of the novel. They are born from a list of topics, themes, and thought points that I keep in a separate reference document when writing a novel. Sometimes, one point might just be, "Repeat [character name] every 4 lines to induce sense of preoccupation/obsession." The fact that The Sky Conducting fits into Dystopian Fiction and My Pet Serial Killer fits into Thriller/Serial Killer novel is a wonderful coincidence.

GI- Your economy of language is one of the elements that make your prose so enjoyable. When did you start writing like that? Why?

MJS- It took a very very long time to find a balance between the stated and unstated. If you dare look back at my first novel, The Day We Delay, you will find a catacomb of linguistic carnage. It's a novel among my early work, when I was fresh to the rhythm and depth language can bring to the full-length narrative. I killed off more novels than I kept words on the page. However, I believe I started to find that so-called balance when I actively abandoned the act of formal experimentation - that is, the use of experimentation on the surface via arrangement of words, limitations enforced, etc - and committed to bringing the experimentation into the underside of the work itself. I buried it into the narrative. It's still there - the experimentation with words. I can't write if I'm not experimenting with something. The biggest change was when I decided to use the story, the narrative as the battleground where words are born and beaten to a pulp.

GI- You mentioned wanting to get My Pet Serial Killer to be the McDonalds happy meal toy for a whole month. How's that going?

MJS- I've met with a man claiming to be Ronald McDonald. I found him on Craigslist. We met at - where else? - a McDonalds and he was disappointed when he found out I was 27 years old rather than the 7 or 8 year old he "assumed" I'd be. I was disappointed that he wasn't in the clown makeup.

GI- A bird told me there's something called Makeout out there, a promotional novella. Can you talk a bit about that or is it one of those things that you'd have to kill us all if you gave more info?

MJS- I'll give you the basics - it's limited to a couple dozen copies and it's going to disappear once those copies find homes. That's all I'll tell you.
If you know where to look, the details about the novella may have already been revealed.

GI- I know where to look. If you want to get your hands on Makeout, click here.

GI- You've been on a roll in the last 3 years; what's next?

MJS- Thanks man. The current plan is to keep doing what I'm doing. I'll keep writing for as long as I enjoy writing. I have some stuff written and complete that I'll be showing around, pitching the broadstrokes of the narrative, and we'll see.

GI- Good books and films you've been digging lately, go!

MJS- Recent notable reads include - Crapalachia (Scott McClanahan), "I Don't Know," I Said (Matthew Savoca), Rontel (Sam Pink), Criminal (Ed Brubaker), Satantango (Laszlo Krasznahorkai), and Me and the Devil (Nick Tosches).

Recent films include - Killer Joe (William Friedkin), The ABCs of Death (various), Amour (Michael Haneke), The Master (Paul Thomas Anderson), Seven Psychopaths (Martin McDonagh), Beyond the Black Rainbow (Panos Cosmatos), and John Dies at the End (Don Coscarelli).

Now it's your turn. Give me some recommendations. I'm always looking for more books, films, and music. Videogames too. Those are great for getting away from projects.

GI- Nice list. I'll be checking some of those out. Rontel was amazing. Here are some great reads I've been digging: Blake Butler's Sky Saw, George Saunders' Tenth of December, Benoît Duteurtre's The Little Girl and the Cigarrette, Mark SaFranko's Hating Olivia, Frank Bill's Donnybrook (coming in March), David J. Osborne Low Down Death Right Easy (coming very soon), The Heroin Chronicles, edited by Jerry Stahl, Justin Grimbol's Drinking Until Morning (absolutely hilarious), and David W. Barbee's Thunderpussy. There's more, but I'm blanking right now. As for movies, I'm going through the hate part of my love/hate cycle with cinema. I'll get back to you on that.

GI- MPSK is great for many reasons, but I'm sure no reviewer has been able to read your mind yet. What do you like the most about it? Please, don't be humble.

MJS- I like that it's probably about as "base" as I'll ever get with a novel. I'm not going to say that I won't write anything this transgressive ever again but what I am saying is that I like that I've been able to delve into a very deliberate and strange sort of darkness. I like that I survived writing it. It wasn't easy. I was very antisocial during the writing of the piece. There was a time when I went over a few days without communicating with the outside world. In fact, I actively fled social situations. After writing for the day, I used to drink whiskey and watch old cheesy 80s horror films to unwind. I like that a lot of the atmosphere of the novel mirrors that particular time in my life. What else... I like that the origin image, that of someone watching from outside a curtained window a murder of some sort, quickly evolved into the "pet" device that anchors the novel. I like the fact that I can actually go back and read this one. I normally can't stand reading my own writing after it's finished but with My Pet, I am able to flip through and read a few sentences without feeling extremely self-conscious.

GI- What's the best thing about writing/designing books?

MJS- I enjoy that part of writing a novel when you're maybe halfway there and doubting the effort. There are plenty of these moments where doubt surfaces and the piece is questioned in terms of quality. The best part is when you're chugging along and you stumble upon an unexpected occurrence that revives the confidence and banishes all doubt. It adds fuel to the fire of writing. You look back and sometimes wonder where the hell that idea came from. I rarely know why, but the excitement it draws is enough to keep me up late into the night typing away.

I enjoy the moment when a cover starts taking shape. I'd say that 80% of the time the original idea for the cover fails and I come up with something else. Much like with the writing, it's a mixture of chance and falling into state of concentration. I tend to drink while I design covers so the mixture of alcoholic buzz and zooming in, zooming out, shaving away at a texture, toying around in Curves - it is at that point that something happens. I bet it's the buzz that gets me to risk it and just chase after some wild idea.

GI- What would the Gentleman Killer think/say about MPSK?

MJS- He's out there somewhere. Lucky for me, he's not getting out of that prison. Then again, he might figure me for yet another one of Claire's pets. We're both victims. We might be good, great friends.

There you have it, folks. Now head on over to Amazon and grab a copy of My Pet Serial Killer. You won't be disappointed. If you still have doubts, click on the links to read the excerpts published at Keep This Bag Away From Children and ManArchy. Also, make sure you follow Michael on Twitter at @mjseidlinger, look him up on Facebook,and visit his space on the web here.

Buscapié: Chiste

Aquí les dejo la columna de hoy. 

10 de febrero de 2013

Chiste

Gabino Iglesias

El periodista sale de su auto, libreta en mano, y se engancha la máscara invisible que le permite no reírse, no llorar y guardar silencio. Sólo necesita tres citas de vecinos para darle color a su nota. El asesinato de “Verdugo” no es suficiente: hay que preguntarle a los vecinos del conocido narcotraficante sus impresiones sobre el occiso.

El periodista prepara sus músculos para nadar contra un mar de negación. “Ese muchacho era lo más bueno”, recita una señora que parece que ha memorizado un guión pésimo. “El no se metía con nadie. Lo que le gustaba era lavar su carro y eso”.

El periodista traga saliva que sabe a ácido de batería, le agradece a la señora y toca en otra puerta. “Verdugo” tenía 27 asesinatos a cuestas, un caso en Familia y una ristra de arrestos, pero era el vecino perfecto.

El periodista quiere preguntarle al caballero que acaba de abrir la puerta si piensa festejar la eliminación de otra peligrosa bestia armada. En cuanto el periodista trata de explicar a qué vino, el hombre empieza a escupir su perorata. “Mira, lo que pasa es que este país está al garete”, dice el caballero, aparentemente ignorante de la sangre que manchaba las manos de “Verdugo”. “Ese chamaco yo lo veía jugando a cada rato afuera con los nenes y hablando con la esposa en la marquesina”. “Verdugo” nunca estuvo casado, le pegaba a sus hijos casi a diario y su compañera le había puesto una orden de protección en el 2009.

La tercera vecina, indignada, con “dubi” y al borde de las lágrimas, bota la pelota. “Al hijo de Tuta yo lo vi par de veces cerca de la iglesia”, dice entre manoteo y manoteo. “Lo que pasa es que en este país matan gente buena y nadie dice nada. La gente tiene miedo y se han olvidado de Dios. Aquí nosotros por lo menos somos una comunidad. Ya estamos haciendo los ‘estíquel’ para los carros para que la gente no se olvide de él”.

El autor es estudiante doctoral.

Pueden ver la original aquí. 

Buscapié: Escape

Aquí les dejo el Buscapié del domingo pasado. No salió en la versión digital de END, así que no hay enlace al original. 

Escape

Gabino Iglesias

La jeringuilla se desliza por un cráter oscuro. La sangre que entra a mezclarse con la heroína es la misma que corre por las venas de unos padres, tíos, hermanos e hijos que hace años lo arrojaron al olvido. El calorcito que trae la cura viene preñado de espejismos, mata el hambre, deshace el calor, elimina los nervios, ahoga la tristeza.

El primer parpadeo dura una eternidad. Todo lo que lo habita pierde las puntas, los ángulos incómodos. El mundo se cubre de algodón y el tiempo deja de tener prisa. Una oleada de recuerdos llega cargada de risas de niños, piel ajena, amigos. Aún sumergido en ese otro mundo, una diminuta voz clama por el regreso al pasado, por el cierre de las llagas, por el fin de la vida en la calle.

Lo peor de despertar no es el picor en el pecho o la preocupación acerca del dinero para la próxima cura: lo peor es la gente en la calle. Tecato. Pillo. Indecente. La sinfonía de epítetos cargados de odio le cae encime como lluvia ácida. Vienen de individuos dispuestos a emitir juicio en menos de un segundo mientras hacen caso omiso de sus propios pecados. Para los que no han conocido la adicción, los usuarios están donde están por su culpa. Si bien eso es cierto, las ganas de salir no se las quita nadie. Las malas decisiones fueron suyas, pero su vida ya no le pertenece. Como dijo el escritor y ex-usuario Jerry Stahl, ser adicto no es un estilo de vida que se escoge, es un imperativo de la química molecular.

Bah. Tanto pensar no sirve de nada. El país tiene tantos problemas como el y sus actos, aunque se arrepiente de ellos, lo han convertido en enemigo público. A lo mejor si llama a su hija... No, ya empieza el picor. El cuerpo demanda su sustento. La conciencia reclama la vuelta al paraíso, a la suavidad, al fin de la realidad y la gravedad, a los brazos del olvido.