Category Archives: My life

Chewie, we’re home!

I never wanted Xmas to arrive so badly, but this time THIS TIME it has to be fast, for fuck’s sake!

I’ve just watched the second official trailer of Star Wars episode VII: The Force Awakens six times in a row and now I have two tears about to roll.

I feel so excited about this movie! Very frightened too, to be honest. I’m scared of what Abrams might do, but at the same time that classic sentence “You’re my only hope” is constantly kicking in my head.

The fact that all the ships, the X-Wings, The Tie-Fighters and the fastest hunk of junk in the galaxy, The Millennium Falcon, or Chewbacca and R2-D2 appear on the trailer really makes my heart bits fast. And Solo, MY MAN! He’s an old rascal, but it doesn’t matter, damn! I’m near 40 but I feel like a kid again, how can this be possible?

How can this fiction be so essential for many? Whenever I start wondering about it I feel overwhelmed. We were kids, innocent and impressible when we watched this saga for the first time. But it’s been almost 40 years since it started, people have grown up, have their families and responsibilities, and still the world stops when a new trailer is released, and the impact on so many people is so unbelievable it makes me think these are the greatest movies ever made. Not in terms of performing nor even the plot, which I reckon it’s a simple and clear way to understand Jung’s theory of the archetypes (child, father, good, evil, the hero, the journey…), but because what George Lucas achieved to recreate on three films with the passing of timehas become something cultural, I’d dare say, historic, and this makes them simply perfect.

chewie and solo

December, 18th is marked in my calendar. Victory and death are on the table. Am I ready to cope with both options? It can be the greatest disaster or something really big. Who knows?

Hope, friends, hope. We can never surrender to fear, cause fear takes you to the dark side.

Toi VS Mess. First Round.

Basically this weekend I’ve spent my free time doing what i like the most: listening to CDs and vinyls and watching movies. I can’t complain, at least I’ve played 15 different albums, old and new, and watched 4 movies. These weeks I’m quite stressed at work, with people on holidays and being in charge for many additional tasks, with lots of incidences and also feel a bit anxious for upcoming changes and new responsibilities, so I really needed a break, and I’ve disconnected from it a lot, which is good, because on Friday I was mentally exhausted.

And I eventually did some cleaning. I hate it. From the ancient times women are supposed to be tidy and clean but to be honest the more I meet single girls the more I realize this is not a true fact. I used to be the tidy and organized one when living in couple, but nowadays I sometimes feel really lazy about it. It’s not my biggest concern. My main problem is not that I’m a pig, I don’t really get the house dirty being on my own, but the fuckin’ dust is my enemy.

I live near a market which has been under restructuring for 4 years, and I open the windows very often, so dust is more welcome than a vampire into a house. Moreover, it’s a mixture of dust and sand particles. On the other hand I have lots of stuff. lots of crap which tend to attract dust: vinyls, CDs, books, toys, figures… any kind of shit you can imagine which is terribly hard to keep completely clean. In fact, I think it’s impossible.

too much stuff

Sometimes I dream of being a minimalist person, with one of those white furniture living rooms with just a couple of things in an attempt to become livid, but that’s an utopia. I love things. I still buy books, even though I don’t read as much as I used to, CDs and vinyls. More or less one year ago I decided not to get more movies, just the essential. I’ve always had lots of stuff with me. when I was at my parents’ I used to have lots of book and magazines. At my granny’s I started having CDs and toys. In London I had to sell and give stuff for free. And I moved to Barcelona with 1 baggage, which means that I still have plenty of things at my parents’ packed in boxes. I even lost all my furniture and lots of CDs and figures when I split with my ex. If I have gathered now all my belongings definitely I would  need a bigger flat.

patrick bateman living room

I need to see things I like around, but sometimes the limit seems a bit blurry for me, so when you visit The Hellhouse the living room is full of all this stuff everywhere.

Been trying to tidy up an area of shelves which was very bad organized. When I started cleaning I realized there was plenty of useless crap I should have got rid of long time ago. And this was just a small part of the living room. No need to say dust was the king too.

This has made me wonder about the Diogenes syndrome. Is it inheritable? Is it only referred to senile people or my mess might mean I’m a potential victim of this disease? At least at the moment I’m not interested in picking up objects from the streets, which makes me feel sort of relieved, but what if?

I don’t know. I’ve been designing a “plan” to have certain things more under control and improve the space for storing, and of course, get rid of useless stuff. I don’t wanna think what a nightmare moving in the future can be, when I have to.

Now that I’m focused on this, it’s time to take the actions. Will I be able to do that? wish me luck, dudes.

Flashback Friday: London 2015

Argh! It’s been two weeks already since I don’t update this site and I feel like shit about it, but honestly I wasn’t in the mood nor didn’t find the right time to do so, and the past days have been so weird my mind was to stressed to write. I hate when I have this shitty writer’s block. One of the reasons I keep this blog alive it’s because it usually works as some sort of funnel.

On this day two weeks ago I was having a veggie burger and a tasty spicy Turkish salad with my friend Veronica near Old Street in London. We came back to this beloved city again to attend a Ryan Adams show at Hammersmith Apollo on Friday 27th and the trip was amazing. Now there’s no point in talking about  the show, which was a blast, nor how great was to meet friends who were also spending the weekend there for the same reason, so instead I’m posting some pix of that wonderful time .

tetis

apollo

foreros

ryan4

setlist ryan adams

ryan5

crobar

vero

pints and postcards

Thanks to all the people who contributed to a weekend of laughs, lots of pints of beer, friendship and happiness. Now it seems to be ages ago, but it was fantastic.I love you! ❤

The first time I listened to Black Sabbath

What a shitty week, ugh! Since my last post I’ve been embraced by a huge attack of flu which has finished off all my energy, forcing me to spend the week sleeping and vegetating basically, not being able to focus nor getting concentrated for long periods of time on reading, listening to music or watching TV. Really I haven’t been so fucked up in years. As if I’ve wasted my life and time this week, being non productive at all. Moreover because this fuckin’ virus was so tough and contagious, you can imagine I haven’t seen anyone these days. All the time on my fuckin’ own. What a horrible penitence. I NEED BEER ASAP!

Seems that I’m feeling better today, Friday 13th (UUUH), and leaving aside the birthday of a legend, Jason Voorhees, there’s something more relevant to celebrate: the 45th anniversary of the debut album of Black Sabbath.

black sabbath vinyl

Just few months ago I recovered this album to talk about the bells in rock, remembering the intro of ‘Black Sabbath’, with the storm and the bells, as one of the most sinister and overwhelming record openings in the history of rock/metal. Those bells make me think of the end of the hippie era, together with Vietnam (Nixon era) and the Manson family crimes. As if all related, all these facts created the portrait of a dark future ahead.

45 years after its release, this album is still mindblowing, with the same intensity as back in the day. I cannot recall of those days, but at least I have fresh in my memory the first time I listened to this album, followed by Paranoid, 20 ½ years ago.

I remember the year and the month, end of June 1994. Any given summer night, sitting in the copilot seat of my boyfriend’s car, actually his parents’, parked anywhere. You could go to a park or wherever, but the car has the stereo and we could listen to tapes. He asked me if I had ever listened to Black Sabbath, and I felt very ashamed when admitting I hadn’t yet, even though I knew it was one of these classic 70’s band I HAD TO listen. You know how things work when you are a teenager. It’s a constant struggle trying to show the world you know things, you’re an adult already, and you’re worthy of respect.  Thus, at this point someone asks you about a band or something you don’t really know, you can cheat assuring you know, putting your status into risk, or you can admit you don’t know, swallowing the shame and trying to recover your status the soonest. I chose the second option, as I knew he could catch me in a lie, especially related to music, very easily.

So more or less, the conversation was as follows:

-Hey Toi! Which band you prefer, Led Zeppelin or Black Sabbath? (this is the equivalent question to “are you studying or working?”, huh?)

-Eeeer! I love Led Zeppelin, but I can’t really say about Black Sabbath. Never got the chance to listen to them, and I don’t know anyone who can tape me any stuff. (shit! I’ve fucked it up!)

-Oh, wow! So you haven’t ever listened to BLACK SABBATH!!! (Dude, don’t stare at me as if I was a fuckin’ freak)

-No, man, I haven’t yet. (Toi sinking in shame. SHEEEEEIT!)

-You want to listen to them RIGHT NOW? I got a tape here!

-I’d love to if you feel like, sure. (feeling better?)

– I really feel VERY JEALOUS OF YOU RIGHT NOW. You’re about to listen to BLACK SABBATH!!! for the first time in your life! That is AWESOME!

-Yeah, man. Seem so. (Uuuf! He’s not gonna dump me…yet! Great!)

 

After searching for a tape, the moment of truth arrived. Not only I was to discover Black Sabbath, but also at the same time I was being tested by a guy I liked a lot, and I couldn’t disappoint him. Not that I had to be a yes girl saying the band was absolutely incredible, and blahblahblah, which in some way I had to pretend in case I didn’t like the tape, but the real trick was managing to sound convincing.

The tape started rolling, but no music sounded. He told me to “wait”, so I was staring at nothing focusing all my senses to something it was about to start. And then rain pouring, thunder, a church bell tolling coming closer, to introduce the scariest and most wicked intro I’ve ever listened  to up to date. Fuuuuuck! What the hell was THAT? First lines of the lyrics could perfectly define what I was thinking at that very moment “What is this that stands before me / figure in black which points at me”. Holy shit! I had listened to Megadeth, Iron Maiden or Slayer, but that, that was a way on top different league. Guitar riffs were terrific and threatening, drums and bass super heavy, Ozzy’s voice was that of an evil wizard…I was overwhelmed.

At some point I realized I wasn’t alone inside that car and tried to pull myself together, noticing I had been observed all those 6minutes and something, so when I lifted my head and turn my face to the left to him, my mouth was open in amazement, half smiling, and the only word I could articulate was, of course “FUCK!”. No need to say I passed the test, and brought the cassette home to copy it, with Paranoid on the other side, and a couple of songs of Masters of Reality.

sabbath 1970

This old story works for explaining what this album means to me at all levels. It’s not my favorite Black Sabbath album even though I’d include it in a top 5 list of the band, however I reckon it’s one of the most influential records in my life. I’m not a musician, so I won’t tell you stories about how much it inspired me to write lyrics, and I don’t consider myself a metalhead either, being this album probably the milestone of heavy metal. But listening to those 7 songs, one after the other, ‘The Wizard’, ‘Behind the Wall of Sleep’ (oh man, the drum break at the end, I could listen to it nostop for hours!), ‘N.I.B’, ‘Evil Woman’, ‘Sleeping Village’ and ‘Warning’ blew my mind completely, and opened the gates to another musical dimension, heavier, darker and more powerful, and the word riff came to my life to stay for good. How awesome is that, huh?

45 years since Black Sabbath shocked world, and 20 ½ years since it overwhelmed me, and I reckon there will be lots of other teenagers who will hear this album for the first time in their lives and will get crazy about it in the same way I did, because the power of this masterpiece remains intact, thanks to the timeless magic it was created with.

Satan bless Black Sabbath!

Album of week 4: …And Out Come the Wolves

This week’s been a rough one. Plus it’s been the first one I’ve worked full, and after a terrific weekend in Bibao, it’s been like a punishment. Emotionally weird too.

rancid

To face such low mood I needed some upper and recovering …And Out Come the Wolves has been the perfect choice. And it’s been thanks to my friend Jon who gave me one of his 3 original copies last Saturday. I had lost it during my “divorce” and I had completely forgotten about this masterpiece.

Never been a huge fan of Rancid but I’ve always liked them, and relate them to very good times thanks to a couple of shows I attended at Festimad festival in 1996 introducing this album, and then in 2012. Both of them equally funny and crazy. Rad shows!

When …And Out Come the Wolves Rancid turned our world upside down. It’s impossible to imagine such impact of a punk rock band on teenagers nowadays, but the 1990s were something different, and their style fitted in the bosses interests. Most of us were digging Seattle bands, darker, deeper and inward, but at the same time there was still some room for consuming explosive bands, without being related to any proper scene or style. Thus we had RATM, Biohazard and Body Count, and then we had Greenday and Rancid, which were totally punk orientated, to name few examples. I always preferred Rancid. Hey were wild and nasty, and I used to love dancing with them.

The Festimad show was insane. It was open air, at the main stage, and all I could see was people dancing around, pouring beer on people (yep, I got myself my first proper beer shower), singing and yelling, and overall having a great time. So was I. And then I felt hungry and thought it was the perfect time to have an omelet sandwich. Not very intelligent, I know. At some point of the show I thought my arm had shrunk because I couldn’t give a bite to the sandwich, and the reason was that there were two guys whose arms were woven to mine. Oh, man! I couldn’t stop laughing! And of course I couldn’t finish it because it ended up smashed. What a laugh!

Rancid 1995

…And Out Come the Wolves is a perfect record, a fuckin’ timeless masterpiece. One hit after another. It’s impossible to choose a favorite: ‘Ruby Soho’, ‘Time Bomb’, ‘Lock, Step & Gone’, ‘Roots Radical’ ‘She’s Automatic’, ‘Junkie Man’…These songs are anthems. It’s one of those albums you cannot listen motionless. You end up dancing or headbanging, but you never stop. Good vibes and energy are absolutely contagious.  And that’s exactly what I was looking for this week.

Recently a new Rancid album, named Honor Is All We Know, has been released, and it’s not as great as their third one, but still keeps the essence and the vibe, which is great news, because that means they’re still in shape for more writing, and most important, more touring. If they can play as they did a couple of years ago, that will mean to get another beer shower, sweat like a pig, and leave my guts on the pit, because as much as possible, I’ll be attending their shows without hesitation.

Six degrees of separation. Today: Elvis and Toi.

Kind of frustrated because I didn’t post anything related to Elvis’ birthday on Thursday. I still paid my tribute watching the great documentary Elvis: That’s the way it is, which I strongly recommend you, including lots of footage of the rehearsals previous to Vegas residency in 1970, and the actual shows, which were awesome.

I know it’s a bit late but I want to talk to you about Elvis, Toi and the Six degrees of separation theory anyway, and that’s what I’m gonna do right now.

Back in 1929 there was this Hungarian writer, Frigyes Karinthy who wrote a book of short stories titled ‘Everything is Different’. In one of these, he was telling about how the world was shrinking so to speak, as the human being was moving, emigrating, and establishing more connections and ties to other people than we used to do in the past. Somehow he was anticipating something which is completely fashionable nowadays, which are the social networks. But it wouldn’t be until 1967, when the researcher Stanley Milgram published the compilation of experiments related to the extension of social networks under a theory named “The Small World problem” through The Psychology Today, when it was demonstrated that the world was becoming increasingly connected. At some point in the 2000s, the concept of “Six Degrees of Separation” was born, to explain you’d be related to anyone in no more than six connections.

Well, this is a vague summary of what the unproven theory is about, but I guess you already knew about it.

I’m not sure if it would apply to deceased people, but in this case I like to think is valid too, especially considering Elvis and me coexisted on earth for less than 11 months.

So here is the thing.

Elvis, the king of rock n’ roll, who only left the States for the military service in Germany and few shows in Canada, and Toi, an average(a bit freak too) girl from Zaragoza, Spain, have only two degrees of separation.

How can it be possible?

Ha! A couple of years ago I discovered this picture by chance: Elvis and Torrebruno.

torrebruno and elvis

Many of you are wondering now how the fuck was Torrebruno. Rocco Walter Torrebruno was a little Italian showman, who settled in Spain, doing comedy, singing, working as hosts in many TV programs, and during a long period of time, he used to work for a circus and oriented his career as a child’s entertainer.

Apparently the picture was taken in Paris in 1959, at the Moulin Rouge, when Elvis went to salute the singer Nina Holloway, to her dressing-room, after a show, and Torrebruno happened to be there with his guitar.

I met Torrebruno in 1981 when he took me to stage to sing his hit “Rocky Carambola”, who was actually a chimpanzee. Si I sang with him and this little man gave me the single as a present.

toi carambola

Thus, I met Torrebruno, who had met the King 22 years earlier. Only 2 degrees, friends. So now I’ve just proved myself that the world is ridiculously small. How cool is that?

B.F.F

Been having a couple of beers on my own tonight after meeting a friend. I’ve noticed this is some sort of ritual, to have some dinks on my own the previous night to new year’s eve. Listening to music, deep in thoughts. Kind of nostalgic state of mind I guess.

Most likely I’ll write about 2014 highlights in the next days, but I have something, or better said, someone in my mind I’d like to say thanks for being by my side, especially during this weird year. I’m talking about my friend Jaume. My best friend.

jaumie and toi

Few days ago I was saying that since a while ago years pass by and they are not extraordinary. Not full of sadness and pain as in 2010 nor feeling as if I was on the top of the world like in 2011. For good or bad, there are events out of my control which can affect my life deeply, and years have become a rough mixture of good and bad things. I reckon being on my own has also made me feel in a way that I’m my own engine and source of energy, and try to make the most of it, and friends and other stuff contribute to improve or get things worse.

I don’t feel sad and lonely in general even though I sometimes have these feelings, but at the end of the day, after 4 years, it’s me who I’m going to sleep with and wake up with every fuckin’ day. And after 4 years I can confirm friends and music are definitely essential for me to stay alive and kicking.

I met Jaume on the net, in a crappy music chat, arguing about some band till we reached a common point which acted as the ignition to our friendship. We met at a bar one night after I called him asking for a pack of cigarettes, and from that moment, everything went on wheels between us.

Like we say, we’ve supported each other at the time of leaving some corpses behind. We fell and then stood up and moved forward, always having each other to overcome whatever shit we had to face.

Our friendship has strengthened, grown and settled, we can count each other for everything without even asking, and we know what’s happening to the other just with a glance or a stupid talk. I tell him absolutely everything and I know he’ll always tell me if I’m wrong. At my weakest peaks he’s given me the support and guidance not to lose the track, and he’s my anchor to good sense whenever I’ve thought I was falling into a sea of insanity.

For the talks, the endless beers and cigarettes, the laughs and the care during all these years I can’t be grateful enough to Jaume but I still wanna say thanks.

My life would be a huge pile of shit if you weren’t here.