lagrimas de oro

Crying is not a spectator sport... At times I find that the only way to get on with my day is to have a good private cry... none of this "what's wrong?" crap (as if there were words to express:( , when I need to unload the last thing I want is someone watching impotently... but IPODs are fabulous inventions, expressly designed, I propose for this exact purpose: to surreptisiously and serendipitously offer exactly what we want in the moment of need, no fumbling for physical jewel cases, or searching among the infinite files. So effective, that I could even get my work done, while listening to Hayden pos-lachrimus - of course...
Songs to a Seagull, one of Joni Mitchell's most melancholy albums (more so than Blue even)"I had a King" all the deception and frustration, the why?!!! there is no blame to be placed and I can effectively let go, for a few moments, hidden behind my veil of risos de oro on the far side of the café patio. I get some work done... yes... really. And then when I am ready for the ironic smile to paint itself across my countenance: Manu Chao... Clandestino (the album that has obsessed me of late)

Tú no tienes la culpa, mi amor, que el mundo sea tan feo
Tú no tienes la culpa, mi amor, de tanto tiroteo

Va por la calle llorando - lágrima de oro
Va por la calle brotando - lágrima de oro

Tú no tienes la culpa, mi amor, de tanto cachondeo...

Suenan los tambores de la rebelión...

Makes you think... there are alternatives to death AND there _is_ a shortage of perfect breasts in this world, t'would be a pity to damage one's own...