¡Menuda suerte hemos tenido! Cuando hemos llegado a Rivas a eso de las diez y media estaba cayendo el diluvio universal y hacía un viento del carajo. A esas horas estaban corriendo los niños y llegaban todos a los vestuarios totalmente empapados. El amigo que me acompañaba decía que no corría en esas condiciones. Digo que hemos tenido suerte porque antes de la hora de salida (doce de la mañana) ha escampado y el viento ha dejado de soplar, por lo que hemos corrido en condiciones inmejorables, aunque con el suelo algo mojado.

Antes de comenzar la carrera, haciendo tiempo cerca de las taquillas me ha sucedido un acontecimiento poco afortunado, ya que un desaprensivo me ha robado el paraguas. Me ha puesto de muy mala leche… Y no porque el paraguas valiese más o menos, sino porque era un regalo, acababa de estrenarlo y ¡¡¡estaba lloviendo!!! Al poco se me ha pasado el cabreo y cuando ha llegado la hora de salida ya estaba olvidado el incidente… que he vuelto a recordar cuando después de ducharme ha vuelto a hacer acto de presencia la lluvia.

La carrera consta de dos vueltas de 5 km en los cuales hay poco llano, al principio ligeramente descendente y luego ligeramente ascendente. Lo malo es que este año se habían sacado una bonita subida sobre el km 3 que rompía bastante el ritmo, por lo que el circuito era más duro que en años anteriores.

Había llegado con la idea de hacer 42 minutos y, al final, lo he conseguido. Salí tranquilo en el primer kilómetro y luego fui aumentando el ritmo, lanzándome en el terreno más favorable, para luego aflojar un poco el ritmo en el terreno ascendente, tratando de no apretar demasiado en esa primera vuelta. Esos primeros 5 km los recorrí en 21:07 y me sentía fuerte.

La segunda vuelta, con la misma tónica, apretando en las bajadas y sufriendo en las subidas, sobre todo en la cuesta sorpresa con la que nos ha obsequiado la organización este año. Iba fuerte porque durante toda la carrera he ido adelantando gente. Eso demuestra que vas bien y además da más moral.

Los últimos 500 metros se hacen dentro de la pista de atletismo. Ahí ya me dejé todas mis fuerzas tratando de adelantar a los que me precedían. Y no lo hice mal del todo, porque fue el único kilómetro donde bajé de los cuatro minutos. Llegué a meta con un tiempo neto de 42:17, diez segundos menos que el tiempo bruto y, curiosamente, no muy cansado.

Este sábado 21 de noviembre estamos de suerte en nuestra ciudad:

Tenemos dos espacios para acudir con nuestros hij@s a divertirnos con historias que nos hacen imaginar, reír, cantar, gritar …

Por la mañana, nuestros amigos Los Légolas, estarán en Santa María la Rica nº 3 a las 12h  en una Sesión Familiar para niños a partir de 6 años. Los actos se enmarcan dentro del programa de actos para erradicar la violencia de género, que se celebra el 25 de noviembre. Tienen otra sesión a las 18.30h, pero para adultos.

En la librería LER, a las 18.30h habrá sesión de Cuentos y presentación del  libro “El diario hablado de Clara” a cargo de su autora,  Esther Sestelo.

Aprovechamos este sábado de cuentos, para adjuntaros las bases del Festival, que se celebra en Rivas Vaciamadrid Lloviendo Cuentos, por si os animáis a participar

bases Lloviendo Cuentos

y colorin, colorado, este post se ha acabado

Back at the Station, I started packing and preparing for the next leg of my journey. After about seven weeks, including a few extra days tagged on at the end, I had grown quite attached to the group and accustomed to the “workday.” But, it was time. So, I called my favorite taxista, Antonio, and scheduled a ride to make my way to Rivas and eventually Ometepe Island where I would finish the last 5 months of my expedition as an intern at Project Bona Fide, a foreign NGO focused on agricultural sustainability and permaculture systems. It was a solemn last few minutes saying goodbye to all the staff and friends at the school, but I assured them I would return to visit during my time in Nicaragua and would keep in contact with them as often as I could (if only we had known at the time how true this would turn out to be…).

After a steady hour-and-a-half of conversation with Antonio, who insisted I stay in San Juan del Sur for the evening instead of the planned Rivas layover (attempting to woo me with promises of white sandy beaches and gringas), I stuck to my original “plan” and found a hotel in Rivas for the evening. Antonio decided to drive around with me and help find the best hotel while simultaneously trying to pick up seemingly underage women by whistling, hissing, and hollering out of the taxi windows. Believe it or not, this tried-and-true tactic was wholly unsuccessful and the ladies were generally unreceptive, although he did manage to elicit some responses, albeit not positive ones. Eventually, I decided that for the evening I would spoil myself and live in relative luxury at a $45 per night hotel complete with a complementary breakfast, cable television, air conditioning, internet, hot water, and the rest of the works. While it was quite a splurge for me (usually my accommodations consist of a small cot and little else in a room just big enough for the bed for a few dollars a night), it was a well-received break and I spent the evening, frankly, doing absolutely nothing besides walking around the town for a  few hours,  bringing back some typica from a comedor down the road to my room, and watching my favorite movies and television shows in Spanish. Not to mention taking a warm shower and catching up on some leisure reading.

The next morning I woke up rather early, did some necessary shopping at the local Pali, and started the walk to San Jorge to catch the lancha to the island. I was, pleasurably, accosted by the attendant charging the tax into the port area for being a cute American and was gifted the admission for the small fee of just a smile (what an easy 30 cords!). I ended up waiting for about 45 minutes for the next boat to arrive and climbed aboard for the hour-long voyage across the lake. The ride gave me ample time to think about my upcoming internship, where I was going to stay once I got on the island, and ponder more simple curiosities like why none of the ferries had lifeboats or why on earth someone would name one of the lanchas the Tilanic.

Eventually, I made my way across the island and into the community of Balgue where I trekked the last kilometer or two to my new home, Finca Magdalena, an eco-hostel and cooperative that exports their certified-organic coffee into the United States through a Sister City program and NGO. My room, a drastic change from my Rivas hotel, was about two by three meters and had a  twin-sized bed, a small table, and just enough room to turn around from one to the other. I couldn’t complain for only $3 dollars a night and the view from my room was spectacular, including views of Volcán Concepción and the west side of the island as well as the Finca’s gardens and orchards. After settling in, I found out there was in fact no internet as promised, and that there was pretty much nowhere to use it besides the Finca, which charged an exorbitant amount due to their internet monopoly of the east side of the island. Adding to the disappointment was the shattering of my expectation that, since it was the slow season, I would be able to surround myself solely in cooperative and hostel staff in an effort to continue the Spanish language immersion I had been fairly consistent in maintaining.

The first evening was relatively quiet, and I enjoyed introducing myself to much of the staff including my favorite farm-worker Francisco who would always join me for a Coca Cola and a cigarette while he told me stories about the cooperative’s creation, the situation during the Somoza era, the Sandinista revolution, and of course his family, community, and the changes that the Finca and the island have undergone in the past decade with the rise of eco-tourism in the area. The Finca’s primary source of income had always been their coffee cultivation, however, in just the past year, that position was overtaken by the revenue generated by the hostel and accompanying restaurant. In order to continue the trend and increase productivity, the Finca had trained certain staff members as receptionists, room and restaurant managers, etc. While this afforded many with new occupational opportunities, particularly for single mothers in the community, the emphasis on subsistence farming and coffee production has declined slightly. Francisco, who has been with the farm since its conception was at the time contemplating leaving his work (where he is paid about $5 per week) to take his chances as a volcano and ecological tour guide in the area, a position that usually fetches anywhere from 10-40 dollars per excursion, and that he is frankly highly qualified for: he could consistently identify and read off countless facts about every trail, bird, insect, plant, or flower in the area, and did so often to our  enjoyment.

The following day I ventured across some farmland to introduce myself to my workplace, Finca Bona Fide, and meet the staff, directors, and workers. When I arrived, I was greeted by a lone short-term volunteer who explained that there were a few others around, and that I could just wait until they showed up and pass the time with an unofficial tour from her. I agreed and wandered around the orchards and cropland in the near vicinity, returning about a half-hour later to the rest of the crew. At the time, only two permanent (read: longer-term) staff members were present and neither knew anything about my upcoming project or position, and only that I was going to be joining then at some point around the end of the year. A little taken aback by the lack of organization I was greeted with I began to worry and questioned about the upcoming arrival of the directors, whom I had spoken to extensively about my internship. One was traveling in the States for the next month or so, but would return eventually, while the other “should be back at some point before the Spring.” Not quite reassuring. Now, don’t misunderstand at all: this organization is great, their projects and staff are interesting and extremely hospitable, respectively, but I was hoping for a little more organizational coherency and communication between the staff members. Really, I was looking for some direction, as I had been given little previously except that I would arrive with a position and a project, which now seemed to be a stretch of the truth. I was assured that the directors would be returning to the country eventually and that I could “hang out” for the next month or more awaiting their arrival and getting used to life on the farm.

During the week, I continued to work with Bona Fide helping with daily volunteering tasks like harvesting, shucking, and dekernaling corn, watering trees, etc. while I enjoyed myself during the weekend by hiking the volcano or viewing the petroglyphs in the area or socializing with the staff and guests. Since most guests, if not all, stayed for only a day or two at the most, it was inherently difficult to cultivate any worthwhile friendships with visitors, and so for the most part I conversed with the staff and the artisans (Raul, Adam, and Kristian) who would come daily to sell their craftsmanship to tourists. Raul and Adam were Ometepe locals from Balgue and Moyogalpa respectively while Kristian had been traveling around Central and South America living off of his trade for the past five years, since leaving Buenos Aires where his family resides.

The first evening I was introduced to Adam and by the end of the night (and a couple beers later) we were discussing the religious differentiation of the island, Catholicism and religion in general and the byproducts (especially the negative ones) generated by such a devout society. We also discussed extensively the upcoming Obama presidency and, of great importance to Adam, global warming and the visible changes he has seen befall the island and the world in the past decade (both personally and on his favorite channels of Discovery and National Geographic). While Adam and Raul were particularly helpful showing me places in the area to get great food, watch local baseball games, and find a mean bowl of mondongo soup (which no one, under any circumstance, should ever try), Kristian and I became rather inseparable over the next two weeks. It as a mutually beneficial relationship, as he preferred to socialize with someone who knew a little more Spanish than most of the travelers there and, of course, who was staying longer than just a day, while I got the sustained opportunity to practice my Spanish and expand my vocabulary. We explored the island sites together, including an aggrandized natural swimming pool called Ojo de Agua, the petroglyph trails, beaches, and local “hotspots” in Balgue (if there really are such things). He would always bring his handiwork along in hopes of making sales and I served as his translator with interested tourists and prospective English-speaking buyers. His work, a majority of which was bracelets, earrings, necklaces, and other jewelry made from macrame, were all handmade and included combinations of precious stones or artifacts he had acquired throughout his travels. Petrified coral from the Caribbean coast, fossilized rocks from Palenque, cultivated pearls from off the coast of Columbia, jade and onyx from Guatemala, turquoise from Mexico….His largest problem, however, was the fact that he often gave things away and made little to no profits, only enough to get by. He would trade a pair of pearl earrings for a plate of tostones con queso or an admission ticket to a natural park, offer a bracelet to anyone who was kind or talkative, and gifted much of the work he produced at the Finca to the employees at the Finca, all personalized with colors and stones of their choosing. A couple nights before he left, he even passed on some lessons to me on how to make simple bracelets and necklaces so I could go share them with friends back home. He also sent me off with the pearl earrings for a girlfriend I don’t have and a bracelet for my sister as well as a handful of turquoise and black jade stones for me to practice with.

Our conversations were like nothing I had previously been exposed to, either in class or, especially, in the streets. Having attended the University of Buenos Aires majoring in Sociology and Anthropology, we talked about religion, politics, history, and more abstract concepts like societal control, Eastern philosophy (el Tao) and the psychologies of war, governance, and relationships. When conversation became difficult or too abstract, he would accommodate me in any way possible including drawing pictures or charts for me to understand and even going as far as spelling things out with broken toothpicks (which is where the title is derived from). Eventually, I learned that his impetus for leaving school and the city was the tragic death of his younger brother who was hit at an intersection by a ordinario bus who attempted to rush through a changing light. Because of this, Kristian decided to leave his home and venture as far from the city (or any city) that he could, running towards better circumstances and away from these undesirable memories, which he only vaguely shared with me for this very reason. Every evening at dinner time, we would exchange the favor of ordering a round of beer or a snack and talk for hours upon hours about just about anything, including my required reading list for the Spring including Foucault, Elias, Debord, Marx, Deleuze and Guattari, among many, many others.

Passing the time at the hostel, a trio of Vascos from Spain came to stay for a few days and climb Volcán Maderas. While Kristian had some work to do, I joined the three both for the company, language practice, and (let’s be honest) the security of not having to summit the volcano myself. Inoki, Iker, and Davil, affectionately referred to as the Vascos, packed lunches and drinks and we began the hike. Immediately, I realized I was in for an adventure. These three are some of the craziest people I have ever met and the stories and travel plans formulated on the hike up were both entertaining and alarming. I will say, however, the three were great guys (buena nota) and extended me the courtesy of only speaking in Spanish as opposed to their drastically different and hard to understand native tongue (although their acthents posthed just as great of an obsthacle). Regardless, the weeks were enjoyable and I was quite enthusiastic to have the opportunity to socialize with so many people while still keeping up with my language immersion.

2009_10_29 Rivas Ecopolis – KSSSE AZS-PWSZ Gorzow

Resumen y declaraciones:

Sete dias antes o Brasil havia conquistado dois títulos e em 29 de outubro de 1992, tinha a possibilidade de fechar o ano com chave de ouro ao enfrentar novamente o Paraguai – derrotado no dia 22 pelo Campeonato Sul Americano. Desta vez, porém, o confronto valia a Taça Rodrigues Alves.

Se o título em si não era lá tão importante, a conquista, com a vitória por 3 a 1, porém, mostrou o quanto tinha qualidade esta geração de craques brasileiros. Sem ser considerada ainda uma potência, o time tupiniquim, que repito, vencera sete dias antes dois títulos na mesma data e com times diferentes, se deu ao luxo, de praticamente montar um terceiro time.

Isso mesmo. Para a disputa da Taça Rodrigues Alves no campo da Floresta, a comissão técnica do Brasil se utilizou apenas de seis jogadores que haviam disputado qualquer um daqueles dois jogos e vencido os dois títulos anteriormente.

Do considerado time ‘A’ que vencera o Campeonato Sul Americano, ficaram o defensor Palamone, do Botafogo e o atacante Neco, do Corinthians. Do time ‘B’, que venceu a Copa Roca ante a Argentina vinham o goleiro Mesquita, da Portuguesa, o médio-esquerdo Nesi do São Cristovão, o ponta-direita Zezé do Fluminense e o atacante Gambarotta, do Corinthians.

O zagueiro Alexy, da Atlética das Palmeiras, o médio-direito Alfredinho, do Botafogo, o centro-médio Xingô, do Pelotas, o atacante Imparatinho e o ponta-esquerda Martinelli, ambos do Palestra Itália, completavam o misto brasileiro, que formava quase que um terceiro time, para uma terceira decisão, em sete dias.

Gambarotta, heroi da conquista Copa Roca, com dois gols, voltou a marcar. Porém, o grande nome do jogo foi o palestrino Imparatinho que marcou duas vezes. Rivas, maior artilheiro paraguaio em confrontos contra o Brasil, com quatro gols, marcou um deles nessa partida.

O time paraguaio derrotado nessa partida, ao contrário do brasileiro, tinha pouquíssimas alterações com relação ao jogo de uma semana atrás, no Rio de Janeiro. Destaque para o jogador e já treinador da sua seleção, Fleitas Solich, que mais tarde, como técnico, fez história no Flamengo, que comandou em diversas oportunidades entre as décadas de 50 e 70. Dirigiu a equipe carioca em 504 partidas e teve um aproveitamento de 66,14% de pontos.

Ficha técnica: Brasil 3 x 1 Paraguai

Brasil
Mesquita [Portuguesa]; Palamone [Botafogo] e Alexy [AA Palmeiras]; Alfredinho [Botafogo], Xingô [Pelotas] e Nesi [São Cristóvão]; Zezé I [Fluminense], Neco [Corinthians], Gambarotta [Corinthians], Imparatinho [Palestra Itália] e Martinelli [Palestra Itália].
Técnico: Comissão

Paraguai
Denis; Mena e Paredes; Mirandas, Fleitas Solich e Benitez; Shaerer, Ramirez, Lopez, Rivas e Fretes.
Técnico: Manuel Fleitas Solich

Data: 29 de outubro de 1922
Competição: Taça Rodrigues Alves
Local: Campo da Floresta, em São Paulo
Árbitro: Francisco Abreu Balcó

Por Raoni David
—————————————————————–
On the last game of 1922, another title for Brazil

Just seven days after winnign two titles, as shown on the 22nd, The Seleção had another crwon on the line as they faced again Paraguay for the Rodrigues Alves Cup.

If the Cup was not that important, Rodrigues Alves was a President of Brazil in the early years of the 1900’s, the win consolidated a generation of Brazil’s best players. Without the hype of these days, Brazil managed to win a third title in a week with a different team from the prevois two. The staff called off for this game only six players that were on the field in São Paulo or Rio one week before.

From the team that played in Rio and won the South American Championship they called off the defender Palamone and the forward Neco. From the Copa Roca team came the goalie Mesquita, left midfielder Nesi, rigth winger Zezé and striker Gambarotta.

The new faces were back Alexy, rigth midfielder Alfredinho, midfielder Xingô, striker Imparatinho and left winger Martinelli. An amazing range of seven clubs represented in that game.

Gamarotta showed again his credentials scoring first, but Imparatinho went on to score twice to seal Brazil’s win. Rivas, who happens to be the biggest Paraguayan scorer against Brazil to the date with four goals, scored one in that game.

The Paraguayan squad in the other hand, was similar to that one Brazilwon one week before. Fleitas Solich was their main player and coach. He later came to Brazil, and on the bench of Flamengo he managed 504 games.

Brazil 3 x 1 Paraguay

Brazil
Mesquita [Portuguesa]; Palamone [Botafogo] and Alexy [AA Palmeiras]; Alfredinho [Botafogo], Xingô [Pelotas] and Nesi [São Cristóvão]; Zezé I [Fluminense], Neco [Corinthians], Gambarotta [Corinthians], Imparatinho [Palestra Itália] and Martinelli [Palestra Itália].
Coach: Staff

Paraguay
Denis; Mena and Paredes; Mirandas, Fleitas Solich and Benitez; Shaerer, Ramirez, Lopez, Rivas and Fretes.
Coach: Manuel Fleitas Solich

Date: 29th October 1922
Competition: Rodrigues Alves Cup
Place: Floresta Field, São Paulo
Referee: Francisco Abreu Balcó

Tradução de Fabricio Presilli

El delantero bético, considerados por muchos el ‘crack’ de la categoría no ha superado las molestias en su rodilla, por lo que no va convocado para el partido de mañana sábado en Castellón. Otro futbolista que se ha quedado fuera por lesión ha sido el lateral Óscar López.

Emaná, que la semana pasada no jugó por estar con su selección, vuelve a la convocatoria, al igual que Nano, por lo que Melli vuelve a quedarse fuera.

La lista completa de convocados es la siguiente: Ricardo, Goitia, Nelson, Nano, Carlos García, Arzu, Rivas, Fernando Vega, Juande, Iriney, Sunny, Capi, Rodri, Odonkor, Caffa, Israel, Pavone y Emaná.

Ver-

I haven’t checked my email in 2-3 days and the newest one today is yours – how cool is that? Love your message – you seem exhausted! Hope you’re sleeping well, and I’m glad you worked things out with your friend and had fun in NYC.

I never made it past Leon, came here after 6 hours in buses from San Juan, met up with 3 Norwegian students in town, and I was aiming to go to the Tortuga and pass out for a night, then head straight up to Tina’s for a week or so. The plan lasted until I got off the bus in Leon, because immediately I got approached by Norreine, an Irish woman traveling alone across the Americas. She asked me if I had a hostel for the night, then told me about Sonati, a new non-profit hostel built to fund some environmental and women’s rights work here in town. She told me there was a great crowd, good vibe, and plenty of fun times, so I followed her back to town – that’s how I found the best hostel I’ve ever been in.

Sonati is a converted house, barely 6 weeks old, with fantastic beds, a central garden, a rooftop laundry area for me to hang out on, and the hands-down best vibe of any place I’ve ever found. The people! It’s all artists and musicians, philosophers, wanderers, dreamers, and people who love to party. I don’t have to tell you how well I fit in here – it’s like I walked into my best friend’s house and all my other friends were here too, and nobody is leaving! Sure, there’s a transfer in and out, but the core group is mostly intact, and those who do come are exactly the right sort – I don’t know it works out this way, but it’s like this place only draws people who fit in, or perhaps it’s just that everyone fits here, gets formed by the energy of the place, and meshes in without issue.

Well, that’s not entirely true – there was a burglary the second night – some guy came in to check in, then proceeded to break into every locker, stole a lot of cameras, a pair of passports, and then fled. What a fuckhead. My stuff was behind the front desk at the time, so I didn’t lose anything, but some of my friends lost all their photos, money, and more. How awful is that? It was cool to see the whole hostel band together behind these people though, and maybe we’ll find the theif if we’re lucky.

I’m ahead of myself though, I skipped part of the story – when I first got into the hostel I threw all my clothes into the laundry except for my drawing pants and the shirt that smelled least like shit and mold, and sat down to the check my email. The first one was from Gina, a friend I traveled to San Juan with, and it said “DUDE I DON’T KNOW HOW BUT I HAVE YOUR PASSPORT AND YOU HAVE MINE! GET BACK HERE!” I thought it was a joke until I realized that the next 6 emails were the same. Went to check my passport and sure enough it wasn’t mine! We must have swapped at the border accidentally, but I don’t know how in the hell it happened. I shoot an email back, tell her to meet me in Rivas, and she replies on Facebook that we’ll meet at the bus station at noon. (Hey look, Facebook!)

I stay up all night, drinking and laughing with my new friends, then write a whole lot until 4:30am, board the 5:15 bus to Managua, and I’m in Rivas after 2 buses, 3 naps, and a taxi ride at 11. I eat breakfast, and while I am this guy keeps coming by trying to sell me a hammock. He started at $10 and every time I said no he went down a dollar. He’d leave, come back, I’d say no, and he’d leave again to come back a buck cheaper. When it got to $3 I caved in and bought one, and so now I have a hammock. I spent 2 hour at the station, got asked to buy watches, condoms, food, water, sodas, bags, and everything else under the sun. Finally, at 1pm Gina showed up, we hugged, swapped documents, and I hopped the next bus north to do the same crazy ride over again in reverse. After some more napping – I didn’t sleep a full night in 5 nights, and by now I think I’m at 9 – I hit Sonati again, where I’d left all my things, and got a round of applause from my new friends. 12 hours of travel, on my “relaxation” day, jesus fuck that sucked!

Everyone was headed to dinner as I came into the hostel, so I put down my bag, walked right back out into the streets. It was the farewell party for Matt, a guy who had been in the hostel 3 weeks with Dengue – he was a riot, singing obscene and inappropriate songs about the world around him, just so overly, jokingly, sexual to everyone about everything. He reminded me of one of my best friends from home too, so it worked out great. We went to Barbaro, because Matt had given them his recipe for Buffalo wings, and we ate great big plates of them, washed down by beers and rum. Matt got a card and a shirt that said “I survived Leon and EL DENGUE” and we laughed, talked, and made merry. It was perfect for me – I fell into a whole group of friends and was instantly accepted.

After dinner and 5 rum and Canada Drys, we went to another hostel where it was Tuesday Salsa night, where Martin, this crazy Irish fiddle player, and I got into a bit of a competition dancing girls all over the place – an amazing time for us, but some of the poor girls were just getting thrown around! After that place split up, I followed the rest of the people who just wanted to dance to another club – Illion I think – and the place was packed with bodies, salsa and bachata playing. I got another drink, went looking for gorgeous girls who wanted to dance, and that’s when I see her off to one side, looking like she was waiting for someone. I decided that someone was me, started a conversation with her, and tried to get her to dance.

I don’t know how – the same answer most every woman in the world gives, and I tell her I’ll teach her. We do the basics of salsa in one of the side rooms, move to bachata, west coast swing, and keep getting closer and more sensual. At some point we’re just kissing against a wall, and I ask her if she wants to get out of there. She lives in Leon it turns out, has a house, which beats the hell out of my hostel dorm. We stumble the streets, holding hands, laughing – I haven’t done this in forever – nervous!

I shouldn’t have been, she was great, fun, and when she snuck me out at 5am to avoid an awkward scene with her Nica host family, I asked her how I’d ever find her again. She smiled, said we’d figure it out, we kissed, and I was out on the street alone. At the street corner I started laughing, and couldn’t stop for blocks – what a ridiculous day! I didn’t even know R’s name until we were in bed, we shared no personal information, and I got lost coming back from her house, so I had no idea how to find her. It wasn’t until last night when I was talking to some local friends about the whole thing that they knew her and I found out where she works. I’m not sure if I’ll go looking for her again – it seemed like she wasn’t really interested in me in the longer-then-a-night sense, and Monday I leave for Antigua. Still, it was much needed, and I’m glad it all happened.

Since then I’ve been spending every day writing and wandering Leon, every night dancing and making a scene of myself. I love that you gave me advice on how to get girls, because if you saw me this past week you’d probably think “wow, that guy is a whore” much more then “he needs help meeting women.” I’m not completely helpless at the opposite sex – I just really like you, and wasn’t interested in other people when we were around each other. Still, your advice is valid, and I’ll keep it in mind just in case.

What else… I too was struck by how we wrote each other the same stuff, and your letter is definitely going to be with me forever – in Antigua I’m going to scan the whole thing, page by page, into a document, so even if I lose the physical journal I’ll have all the memories. I’m so proud of you for the cigs! 2 packs is great, keep it going. I’m smoking one a day, just for fun really – after the first 3 days, I didn’t get the physical urge, and right now I’ve got a pack sitting untouched right in front of me. Anyway, I think it’s dinner time for me, and I’ll of course keep writing you! It’s a great way to organize my thoughts, and so long as you don’t mind I’m going to post these to my blog – not yours, unless you want – but my letters to you, because they’re good summaries of what’s going on with my life.

Best of luck in your travels from here, sleep off New York, and have a rum and Canada Dry for me sometime. I miss you loads, but we’ll meet again someday.

Besos -k

So i thoroughly enjoy shopping at thrift stores. i see a lot of people shopping at like urban outfitters and what not, paying obscene amounts of money for clothes with holes already in them. wtf is that? when i rip a pair of pants at work, i’m not like ’sweet now i can wear these to the clubs!’ i’m like ‘dammit you can almost see my balls’.

since i travel all over doing comedy, i try to take the time out to go and buy some sweet threads at a good will, salvation army or what not. leads to me getting some pretty awesome stuff. one time though…

I was in chicago with Quinn Patterson, we were going a showcase at Zanies on a monday night.

It's lighty

We got in on sunday and went and got some chicken. the place we settled on had bulletproof glass, sold doo rags in addition to chicken and fish and was run by arabs…it was the BEST chicken i’d had in a while. 2 girls with a baby stroller came in and complained about their prices though. they apparently only had $20 and would be unable to acquire enough chicken to feed them and still have money to buy a bag of weed. quite the pickle

anyways, the next day we went and ran some errands with my buddy Brian from chicago. we met back at denison, that’s a whole other post though. so during our running around, I go to unique thrift store because they have half off mondays and i left my show shirt at home, so i needed to get something gently worn yet fancy to wear.

i find some sweet shirts and a nice pair of pants and go take a look at the mens MENS coats. i find a brown one that’s quite attractive to the eye, it’s big enough for me but i don’t try it on and i pay and leave. it was like 6, the rest of my stuff was 4…i had 2 bags of clothes. needless to say, i had made a considerable investment in this brown jacket.

i get it out to the car and go to put it on and i notice it’s sitting odd on my shoulder…it had shoulder pads in it. i bought a jacket designed for a very large woman. it had shoulder pads. i cut them out. now the shoulders look lumpy. the jacket lays discarded on my floor. the lesson: don’t spend 6 on an item on half off mondays.

So I got booked for my first feature length set at Grumpy Daves in Bowling Green. I got to BG and checked into my hotel (yeah, I got a free hotel…kind of a big deal? nope) and tried to take a nap since I didn’t have to be at the bar until 8:30. The nap didn’t happen, but I did get some pretty sweet bed hair head going on, so that was clutch.

I get to grumpy daves and the crowd is looking a lil lite. dom is there (a guy i know from when I was younger) he’s going to be the MC. The headliner is this really short comic named Roy Haber, he wasn’t drinking beer because he was on the atkins diet. which i didn’t even know was still around.

we start at 9:30 ish and dom does a decent job getting the crowd going. he’s a funny dude in conversation but you could tell he doesn’t perform a lot, moved around a lot on stage making it hard for the audience to focus on him. but he got the crowd settled down and brought up a guest set. i forget his name, but he made me laugh a few times. he seemed to know most of the people in the crowd (about 40+). Then Dom Brought me up, i started my camera and went onstage.

i forgot to look at my big giant watch when I went on stage so I didn’t have a way to keep track of my time. The booker said he wanted to see 25 minutes from me. I had the crowd going pretty good, was getting pockets around the room slowly throughout the set. I felt like I was running out of material and was worried I was coming off early but thanked the audience and came off, looked at the camera – 29:43…nice!

It was a loose 29, tightened i’m confident in about 20 minutes of jokes, which is more than a host but not enough to feature. but knowing that i’m able to stretch it out, plus i remembered more jokes when i came off stage, I was feeling pretty good. I got a really really good steak sandwich from the place downstairs with a twice baked potatoe that was CLUTCH the next morning.

I hung out in BG the next morning with Dom (he whooped on me in madden) and then went and hung out with twin and michelle. we all agreed skipping class and going to the park to swing on swings would be better than them going to class, so that’s what we did. then we had a ghetto fabulous feast of pizza, curly fries, tortilla chips, salsa and corn bread.

twin had a puerto rico CD visor thing just sitting in her car so I affixed it and said ‘is this for when you come back into lorain?’ and we all laughed.

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then i drove out to dayton from BG to do a contest at the funny bone. i got lost on my way there b/c the GPS my dad loaned me was trying to take me onto an air force base for some reason. figuring the club wasn’t in there, I stopped at a hotel and asked for directions.

as i walked into the funny bone, i heard the guy running the contest asking anyone if they knew me, then he saw me and we had a meeting. they said ‘well, small crowd. if you drove from far away and didn’t bring anyone here your chances aren’t looking good. blah blah blah’ so i went and got a water and just sat back and waited for the show.

dave waite, a comic i met down in Cinci, was closing out the show. he’s pretty funny so that was something to look forward to. there’s probably again, about 30-40 people in the club and the MC goes up and starts thanking the 12 of them for coming out and kind of demeaning them. it’s not their fault more people didn’t come out, i never understand making them feel bad for stuff like that. but he never really connected with the audience, he was supposed to do 10 min but bailed after 6, so I come up to a pretty cold stage.

i hit em with a hot 5 minute set. i probably should have ended on a different joke but everything hit and i was feeling pretty good. i watched the rest of the show, and the audience was told to vote for 3 comics and the top 2 would advance. the 3 i had in my head were me and the 2 guys that wound up advancing, so that’s good. not sure if i came in third or not.

but i guess the guy that books the MC’s was there and liked my set. the guy who ran the contest said ‘you had the worst spot in the line up and had a really strong set, well done.’

then i drove home and went to sleep.

so all in all, a pretty educational trip. came home and did a show in berea last night. i was hungry when i got there, so i asked the comic that booked the room ’so are we getting paid or food and drink or what?’ and he responded ‘well our pay depends on the turn out.’

i looked around and realized we weren’t going to get paid.

fortunately, dave arena was there and bought everyone pizza and wings. skitzo bill didn’t eat any pizza, which blew my fucking mind. it gives me hope for me quitting my vices one day.

i was supposed to host the show but i was feeling a lil under the weather, so john did me a favor and had jen shenberger host the show instead. she got the show started well, playing her ukelele and telling jokes. then i went up and again, hot 5 min set, in a different order than at FB but same jokes and it goes great. then i left. in and out like an ASSASSIN son.

AC MILAN

STORARI 10: Se il Milan è a 8 punti è solo grazie a questo portierone. Ormai fa miracoli su miracoli in ogni partita per rimediare  a tutti gli errori della nostra difesa squallida. Complimenti Megastore!

ABATE 6.5: Come sto dicendo da inizio campionato Abate dovrebbe giocare titolare. Corre, si sacrifica, difende bene e riparte benissimo. Sfiora il gol con un buon rasoterra.

NESTA 6.5: Chi l’avrebbe detto a inizio campionato che Nesta avrebbe giocato 7 partite su 7? Il bello è che le sta giocando tutte in grande stile. Tempesta Perfetta!

KALADZE 5.5: Purtroppo non fa più per questa squadra. La sua prova è sotto la sufficienza, si fa saltare più volte e non è più incisivo come una volta. Diamo fiducia a Onyewu!

ZAMBROTTA 1: Nella mia storia da tifoso rossonero non ho mai visto un giocatore impegnarsi cosi poco in una squadra. Che Gianluca non tifi Milan si era capito già dall’anno scorso, anno in  cui non ha fatto nulla di buono. Zambrotta non onora la maglia rossonera e continua a giocare da giocatore di serie c. Ma quando ho visto quella scena non ho potuto fare a meno di augurargli un brutto infortunio. Alvarez se ne va sulla sua fascia (dove Zambrotta quando c’era si è fatto sempre superare) mentre Zambrotta è sulla linea d’attacco. Parte il contropiede del Bari. Si vede Zambrotta che cammina nell’area del Bari disinteressandosi completamente del contropiede che si era venuto a creare per colpa sua. Ovviamente l’azione viene finalizzata sulla sinistra ma per fortuna Storari è Dio.

PIRLO 7: Lasciatemi stare Trilly campanellino al Milan. Si impegna tantissimo per tutti i 90 minuti, si sposta su tutto il fronte del centrocampo e gioca con il cuore. Sfiora in 2 occasione la rete. Imperioso!

GATTUSO 5.5: Non è più quello di una volta e lo si capisce dai ritardi delle sue entrate.

AMBROSINI 5: Come Ringhio, anche Ambro è molto impreciso. Esce a inizio secondo tempo.

SEEDORF 5.5: L’olandese volante purtroppo stasera non combina davvero nulla di buono. Speriamo che si rifarà in Champions League.

RONALDINHO 6: Si impegna, si sacrifica, cerca il dribbling e la gloria… ma non è più il Dinho Show di una volta. Buona la conclusione dal limite dell’area di rigore.

HUNTELAAR 5: Credevo e credo ancora molto in questo giocatore ma, purtroppo, è stata ancora una volta molto deludente la sua prestazione.

PATO 5: Deve assolutamente ritrovare al più presto la forma migliore perchè un Pato cosi è davvero INGUARDABILE.

INZAGHI 6: Voto d’ufficio per Superpippo che non trova lo spunto necessario.

ODDO 6: Nulla da segnalare nei suoi 20 minuti di gioco.

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BARI

GILLET 6.5: Poco impegnato per gran parte della partita. Compie una grandissima parata su un tiro di Ronaldinho e una buona parata su tiro di Abate.

A.MASIELLO 6: Ferma molto bene Ronaldinho, ma con Pirlo se la vede un pò nera.

RANOCCHIA 6.5: Impegnato davvero poco da Dinho-Huntelaar nel primo tempo e da Inzaghi-Pato nel secondo. Giornata d’ufficio.

BONUCCI 6.5: Idem.

S. MASIELLO 5.5: Soffre molto le incursioni di Abate che se ne va più volte su quella fascia.

RIVAS 7: Mette a sedere più volte i giocatori del Milan dribblando addirittura tutta la difesa in un’azione che meritava un esito migliore. Sfortunato.

DONATI 5.5: Si mangia un’occasionissima da rete e pochi sbocchi.

GAZZI 6.5: Recupera molti palloni importanti e sa far ripartire bene la squadra.

ALVAREZ 6.5: Mette a sedere più volte Zambrotta (quando c’è) e si rende pericoloso in più occasioni.

KUTUZOV 6: Sfiora il gol con un tiro da fermo e gioca molto bene per la squadra.

BARRETO 6.5: Buona la partita di Barreto che crea numerossisimi problemi alla difesa rossonera.

MEGGIORINI 6.5: Entra al posto di Barreto e rischia di mettere la parola fine alla partita ma Storari gli dice NO!

In conclusione posso con tutta onestà affermare che un Milan cosi è davvero INGUARDABILE!

Milan e Bari entrambi a 5 punti si incontreranno nel posticipo al San Siro.  Entrambi i tecnici non hanno ancora ufficializzato le formazioni, i pugliesi hanno il dubbio Langella mentre i rossoneri dovranno decidere chi mettere in attacco.

En España no salen buenas novelas de “serie negra” porque la realidad es de “serie negra”.

Ventura ha un solo dubbio per la partita casalinga del Bari contro il Cagliari, Rivas riuscirà a recuperare? I sardi invece non hanno dubbi saranno in campo sia Matri che Jeda.

¡Guatemala, Tu Nombre INMORTAL!

Una Producción de la Federación Guatemalteca de Escuelas Radiofónicas -FGER-

Guatemala, Septiembre de 2009

Dirección: Víctor Hugo Herrera – Redacción de Guiones: Carol Rivas , Ericka García y Estela Zetino – Edición y Mezcla: J.P. Montenegro