The first storm
It's raining in Madrid this afternoon. I've taken shelter at a net café in order to check my mail in peace and talk to Fred about my missing archives, among other fascinating topics. This is the first mild storm of the season and i'm happy i went through the trouble of dressing up for the occassion this morning. I'm wearing my kick-ass green plastic water boots and a raincoat.

As i walked towards the café i passed a girl holding a little boy's hand. He was wearing a coat with a hood. He was about four years-old. And, even though the storm was at its heaviest point at that moment, the little boy was walking with his head looking up towards the sky and a broad smile. I guess he agrees both with Shirley Manson and myself.

Saint Petersburg



September 28th. Late evening. Saint Petersburg, Russia. The Gulf of Finland extends to the right of the dark window, while the sound of a foreign rain blends with the noise of the heater in my hotel room. I must rise in a few hours to catch the first Lufthansa back home and I haven't even thought of getting into bed yet.

This city has escaped from me, just as I expected. Too much History squattered along too many avenues, too much to absorb for my exhausted eyes. Travelling isn't a pleasure when the only thing that changes is your place of work. I don't know how many kilometres I have crossed to shake two hundred and fourteen hands, greet in three languages, get stressed in Spanish.

Four days in front of a Baltic Sea that didn't roar, going up fifteen floors in an elevator, compulsively buttoning up my coat, bursting my bank account with the mobile phone. I've slept always very little and I haven't done my homework, but now my suitcase is heavier and in my memory there is a brand new box that I’ve filled with red granite columns, bridges crossed by the zar's horses, winter palaces and squares where the Bolsheviks and the Nazis took turns to spill blood. Right next to it I've placed the Russian alphabet, several apartment blocks with fragile electricity, a line of blue streetcars and the image of a woman in a yellow coat, running on the left bank of the Neva river.

I don't know if i'll ever go back to this strange country of defeated waitresses and illegal taxis, so i've snatched away a couple of old memories to make place for the most opulent and sad skyline i've ever seen.

Off center
I'm about to take a break for a few days: i'm going on a business trip to Russia. I know i've been sounding a little off center lately, so let's hope next time i post in this blog everything will look more balanced.

I have a suspicion that the best is yet to come, no matter what. And i feel my suspicions will be right.

Deal with it
You know the feeling, i'm sure. When you get into bed and you manage to empty your mind of thoughts, plans and pending projects, so you can finally rest. Then you wake up and your body has recovered, but somehow your brain is acting strange on you.

Something tells you there's trouble ahead. Maybe it's an important thing that you forgot, a call you didn't make, a conversation you didn't have. Or perhaps it's something you can't forget, a call you did make and a conversation you certainly had.

I have unfinished business, the worst type you can have. I know i'm going to have to face it in a matter of days, maybe weeks, and i'm already feeling anxious about it. The problem is that the unclosed business is with me, and i hate negotiating with myself. I'm a very bad dealer.

I don't follow the sun
It feels like 14º C in Saint Petersburg (that'll be in Russia, not Florida folks) today. Next Thursday night, when i land there, the minimum temperature will be 6º and a few showers are expected.

What a nice and fast way of saying my farewells to the royal, turbulent and disturbing summer we've been through.

Rafting thoughts
Sleepless nights followed by subway trips in the morning, reading poetry on an empty stomach and two cups of coffee. Someone could think I’m even profound, but I’m afraid to say my life is rather prosaic: I stayed up late finishing the latest Potter novel and worrying about a couple of uncomfortable situations. Ordinary, as you can see.

I’m fighting back, though. I’m getting my problems solved by facing them. That’s what you do when you’re an adult, or an incredibly mature wonder child. The latter is certainly not my case, considering I’m hitting 30 at the turn of the year. Collapsing into 30, bumping soul and body into the three decades. Auch.

I raft through the agony of debts, health issues and an array of broken hearts around me, and I have the feeling that everything is going to be ok. It’s just a feeling, but that’s what gets me through the day, until I lay my head on the lilac pillow and toss around the obstacles of my waking hours.

Blank
As Eminem's mother once said: If you ain't got nuthin' nice to say then don't say nuthin'...

... Other than i'm up to my eyes with work, i think i may be coming down with the flu, and J-Lo and Ben have finally called it quits.

Once again



We all see it happen. Over and over again.

Airport
I am going to the airport to meet a perfect stranger. I've been doing this for the past three days. Then i'll head to a luxury hotel to book a few dozens of rooms. And i still don't know when i'll have time to make the call i want to make, see the smiles i want to see or grab a bite in between meetings. There's something funny about this job, and the unfolding season. I gotta go, i'm meeting a perfect stranger at the airport.

Its ugly head
Yesterday i was on the phone with a friend who was complaining because everyone is talking about the autumn. "It's still August in my mind", he said. "Well it shouldn't be", i replied, and added that there was nothing wrong with September, that the new season was going to be fascinating. I told him i could already smell the freshly-sharpened pencils in the air.

But that was yesterday. Today i landed at the office with a small grin that has consistently grown nasty as the day goes by. I've got tons to do, which is fairly normal, but i feel my head is racing in different directions at the same time and i hate this utter lack of control. Tomorrow is a bank holiday but i'll be working. Rats.

Cash issues (or lackthereof) come to complete my misery. I'm telling you, September doesn't look as cool and romantic as i thought only 12 hours ago. The month is rearing its ugly face and i'm already dreading the next five minutes.

Swinging mood, anyone?

* Feel free to pass any comment on the magnificent photo that illustrates this post. I don't think i could find anything more 1987.

Out of control
My archives are still gone. Both my server and Blogger have made promises on the matter over the weekend, but, alas, you can never trust anything when it comes to ambivalence. I need help, folks.

Busy
I'm a busy bee at the office today. Good thing is i'm having dinner with the girls tonight and i honestly can't wait. I feel the fun already... Bad thing is almost everyone i know will be away from Madrid this weekend. Maybe it's time to catch up with the house cleaning. In case you want to talk about it instead of picking the mop, the Fivers are here for you.

Big news
Yesterday was a huge day. I close my eyes and play it over and over in my mind. Big news, boys and girls, the kind of news i've been chasing for a long long long time. I'll be newsbreaking to you soon enough.

Introducing
... Uma B., the faint, inconspicuous star.

Sorting
I believe ‘stitches’ is the word I’m looking for. My whole body aches after an exhausting afternoon of physical effort and boxes full of books. Riding out to the Mountain Family home and returning to the palace apartment with some of my stuff was a little hard, especially with the sorting of the various items: this is mine, that is Tom’s.

Going up the four flights of stairs –boy, are elevators the sign of prosperity- is the equivalent of a two hour long aerobic salsa class or five hours of mad raving at a club. The consequences are the same: neck, legs and stomach can’t stop reminding my brain of the exercise I forced upon them.

The house looks cosier now, because my multicoloured collection of books brings warmth to the shelf. I hadn’t seen my stuff for over a year and yesterday I realized how much I actually missed it.

Once I put everything in place, I let my mind wander free for the first time in months. Jesus Christ. It’s difficult to watch a home get dissolved into parcels like that. I believe the expression I’m looking for is ‘move on’.

Odds and ends
A boy tripped down the stairs towards the subway yesterday afternoon because he was looking up at me. How’s that for an ego boost? I was on the phone with Kurt, who was telling me about screening calls and what it means to have a Creedence Clearwater Revival poster on the ceiling when you’re over 13 or under 67.

Nick swam a river of beer with me last night. We discussed love and human remains, as usual. He had the same dish twice at the Italian restaurant and he asked a dj to play his own stuff at our local bar. He’s a slightly famous guitarist and he lives up to the legend. That means he was drunk out of his mind and could barely understand a word Nick said. He almost fell out of the cabin trying to answer.

I slept under seven hours. Again. I feel tired and broke (though that’s more a reality than a feeling) and I want to disappear for a while from this ever waking city. I need a break from it all, maybe take a stroll down a beach or walk around uptown Manhattan. My ego is healthy enough to endure those mean streets, though my wallet isn’t. At least I’m not tripping down the stairs or falling out of a dj cabin.

Kick-starting
Monday, Monday… can’t trust that day. The coffee tasted particularly good this morning, considering how lame and tired I felt upon waking up. The week unfolding now is full of scheduled events and a couple of mysteries, which might turn the string of days into something vaguely interesting. I can’t tell you yet because I’m still kind of dreamy.

The city is back to its well-learned activity and I’m still lingering in between projects and routines. This weekend has closed some kind of circle, where I’ve decided to finish my moving into the palace once and for all –that means carrying the dreaded boxes into the apartment and getting someone to help me with an Ikea shelf-, as well as continue with the writing, both a soothing and exciting therapy.

Other items on my to-do list include having a possibly interesting conversation with someone at the newspaper, saying my farewell to the summer by returning the electric fan to my mother’s home and making the final arrangements for the trip to Russia at the end of the month.

I don’t know about you, but I find all these decisions and new season resolutions exhausting. The past two months haven’t been exactly relaxed with the lack of holidays, the work at Barcelona and the rather intense social activity.

Most of the people around me have gone through similar phases this summer. One got married, one fell out of love and back into family values, one saw her life plans softly changed in a matter of days, one got promoted.

As for me, I believe my summer brought me many gifts. I managed to say goodbye to a friend who is no longer available due to a chaotic life and a jealous girlfriend. I worked hard on spring cleaning my mind. I saw a handful of concerts that made me very happy. I moved into a new home. Not bad for 60 days of intense heat and closed shops.

Monday, Monday. Kick-start the week with a smile and you’ll welcome an entire new season with the wink of an eye. Would anyone care for a second cup of coffee?