Peter Lemebel, on Monday, February 14, 2011 at 15:44
And who knows if you have a boyfriend or was an illusion. Who knows one of love if all you knew were desperate swipes sobajeos and under bridges. So if you roll up and go back to fucking years yesterday, rather, if I'm still unraveling certain miracles I can not forget. And sometimes when urged to write these scribbles made hand over his heart. And suddenly comes to me that afternoon in the eighties when my friend Cecilia called me to tell me that he had received a tenant, a boy more beautiful than the sun, a twenty Aprils Pendex light that had landed in Santiago to study audiovisual institute. You'll love it, Peter (music). You will fall in love, you have to know (music). And there I was ringing the bell at the Department of Ceci that then lived on the second floor near the corner of Vicuña Mackenna with Irarrazaval. There I was waiting for the selfless making me know the wonder of tenant. Still class does not reach, "said my friend. But it happens and take a while tesito appears. And campanear the key in the lock, I got face of indifference. But when the door opened, came as a miracle that long hair dark brown-faced virgin apache. India has the face of a goddess, cried at him curiously. What's up?, Asked the boy getting scared eyes (music). And then it all started. There we started chattering like crazy rock, cinema, politics, art and all things that we came to a head. Sign in to my room to show you some pictures I took, see if you like, Cecilia said softly while picking up crumbs from the table. And what pictures or anything, if all I wanted was to be with the baby looking at his face splashed wet carnation kisses. Then I went to the window of his room on the second floor that overlooked the street, and looking at the bright winter asphalt asked: When is your birthday? There are only twenty days, said párvula question with emotion. Are you going to give something?, Said curious. Look, go to the window, said fogging the cold glass with my breath. And then with his finger drew a heart on the glass, speaking later with blue velvet voice: On your birthday, exactly at twelve o'clock at night, seen through this picture the street down there. And I left him, stealing I hid a picture of him creeping in my pocket. And twenty days later, just at midnight, completely naked in the middle of the street with his picture pasted on my chest, there was the mad love in the midst of a large heart drawn with neoprene to which asphalt lit molotov inflaming heart. There was the crazy crazy love under his window in the middle of the roar of buses and cars horns arrested for fire that card people at the happy birday of homosexual passion (music). It was such a scandal with neighbors who leaned out the windows without understanding what was happening. There was such crap with micro drivers that threatened to get me shit if I did not move from there. 'm So shit with my friend Cecilia who tried to explain saying that there was a protest, which was an art action. With the boy who turned pale at the window and ran down the stairs carrying a blanket to cover my nakedness, with his face and his eyes watery excited telling me the fucked up, Peter, no one had given me something. "This is a performance ?. A similar, rather a birthday alone, shivering as I tiptoe muttered a drink to warm the body.
That was his night was unforgettable, so grateful, he hugged weeping and giving hope to the dawn of its green years. After that, the neighbors complained While the end my friend Cecilia had to move house and fire the nice tenant. She never told me anything, but I shit my habitat with unbridled passion. Hence came the love with his violent freshness. Could not take off even for a moment. Sent to hell, his beautiful girlfriend who always pick up after, when he smoked a cigarette at the ceiling, she insisted inquisitive: Are you thinking about Peter? Not more support, he said, telling the woman was chopped dating a military school cadet. And this guebón I went to find a school with a gun and took me to me the discussion of AIDS. Cachay "(music) Peter, what I've been for you? (Music) . That's why I love you, the voice whispered season. So years passed and I kept loving you with a mouthful of ocean. So after you rock out the world, so you went off to Manhattan where you will not reach my bad reputation.
The winter is over, (music), now found the flash of the acacia trees at my window, a drop of dew clears the heart in the glass. I dont love you like then, rather because I do not want (music). From New York a mail account that you return me, just now when I are sprouting feathers from migrating to.
From his facebook page.
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