Head Lice And Hair Extensions In

When I was in Buenos Aires I met Billy (or William Alen, a name it will be very important in a few years). I can say without reservation that he was my best friend at the time I spent there. Always remember our walks through the streets beautiful, warm and sprawling Buenos Aires. We did not see much or, in any case, I guess less than you think. But every time we talk for hours without interruption, any number of possible topics. We went to the theater on Corrientes Street as expected, a rainy night after dinner at the "trough for poor students." He tried to take me to many sites, he said, were excellent eating. Whenever we got were closed. After spending a weekend in Iguazu, told me that I had rank tan. I was, yes, to the best empanadas in Argentina. I qualms about seven and drank in great gulps a Quilmes Stout while listening to him talk about literature, especially, and thought, what so interesting, I could spend hours listening.

Another afternoon I said, "You should see a guy who comments on my blog! Very clear! He calls himself The Professor." Billy laughed and said, "Hey, but if I'm sho '.

Anyway. We had a good time. I confided many things to heat a few drinks energy drink and fags with melon liqueur, and I do not put little bit drunk, despite then I added him several beers, those beers that Argentines drink giant bottles of "a quart? Two? We ran back to Corrientes with Junín, where I was, to my backpack and take a taxi to Aeroparque, then depart to Calafate. It was four o'clock and the city was asleep, but at the same time, never so awake as ever.

I know have gone through Buenos Aires alone would not have found it so beautiful and yet so tight. Especially since Billy, like a good Argentine loves and hates with equal intensity. Live their own city, in every pore and every bus stops and on every piece of grass.

Buenos Aires, ah, Buenos Aires ... What I can say. Buenos Aires is like a bad lover treats me like a worm in the summer, and autumn hugs me and tells me I will love forever. Winter is an extension of that, with more scarves. Spring is when the cracks start to appear, argue over dumb things like what to bring in the Blockbuster video or order Chinese or not, I begin to suspect that comes with other, things are cool. Summer, and back again.

is bad, yes ... but it's mine. And I am yours. And she knows it.

Now I'm here, keep in touch with occasional emails. Le said that when he is a writer Laura and I stayed in the attempt, some lazy editor sift through our mail to fill the new spring-summer 2034. He replied that it's funny how all the trainees of writers dream of the "volume compilations of the things I wrote while in the bathroom and completely idle conversations we had and should not interest anyone."

But asked if I could play some paragraphs and gave me full permission, because "what I write to you is yours." We talked

last time, for example, of Montevideo. Everyone knows the relationship Buenos Aires-Montevideo, but Billy was the first thing I did notice how passive-melancholy of the city. Also, thanks to him, I could see the sickly and dependent relationship with the material Uruguayans.

Montevideo's that you say, a city sad, beautiful and remote from the world. A sister species of Buenos Aires, the rare family, the crazy attic. Just as ancient and venerable but forgotten, abandoned, parallel. All wind-swept, silent, half-deserted. More bookshops per square meter incredible that no city I have ever seen, including Buenos Aires. Every time I go back again in love with Montevideo; if it were not so expensive hoof it seriously meditate and go live a year there and see if I hold my life in slow motion and the miasma of melancholy, or succumb to laziness, I brokered a pretty prime Uruguayan me mate and I will not anymore.

Then I told an incredible story about Borges and Casares. It turns out that Billy is working on a beautiful bookshop in Junín to the height of the Recoleta, where he bought first editions of gems (that's where I was the first edition of The Flamethrowers of Arlt) and other rare and fine of Don Quixote, for which collectors pay millions.

... I can show you the brochure that we have in the library written by Borges and Bioy Casares on the benefits of dairy food that made on behalf of a dairy company ... The commission was so ridiculous (and the need so great) that Bioyrges decided to not only defend its merits, but to proclaim his lungs, with many historical references and classical dudosísima authenticity and lots of crazy scientists and experiments that only existed in his imagination . Absolutely hilarious.

Then it gets apocalyptic and brilliant and encyclopedic and erudite:

The other day I thought, right ... All future madmen who imagined we'd be dressed in aluminum foil with flying cars, and in the end we are the same jerks as ever, but with a black gadget in your hand, push buttons that opens all the accumulated information and mingled for centuries. Could not be the Platonic republic, the heavenly city of St. Augustine, Thomas More's Utopia, or even the Götterdämmerung or steam paradise Marx's classless ... No. Of all the possible utopias, we just had to play Diderot ...

But above all, in my darkest moments, which abounded Buenos Aires (where I stayed for several days without "twine" and subject to the whims of the bank bureaucracy, to tell my sorrows more understandable), Billy was always refreshing air, bright voice that drew me from the flood. So, doing my self a better place, I will stay with the perception (of course, wrong) that is Me:

is a nice little Mexican fun fashionista who knows the codes, but not take them seriously, he knows to be nice without being a missile, and has no further complications family, sentimental or anything ...

* Pause for thought "Aha, yes," then continue *

And finally, just to know him, I passed out a video chatting with the recently deceased Rodolfo Fogwill. The video begins and ends in a strange way, but just the end sums up what I feel for him.

On it, he explained: "The video was collated and" remixed "a bipolar friend who lives under a great deal of stabilizers and youtube and that the arrangement is quite, um, peculiar. "

guess this post breaks the" regular programming "The Island at Noon. Or to the order of chapters, I do not know. He was still a post about New York, but I was overcome by emotion for sharing this.

Anyway, you know that I found more on Tumblr . As here where I wrote ( yet again) on the freelance and others.

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A beautiful wish would be happy to talk daily with Billy. Maybe in the future, living one season in Buenos Aires. Or is he one in the City. Or both in Paris, or London, or in Helsinki. Imagination makes it all possible.