I celebrate myself...

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... porque poco más hay que celebrar en este mundo cruel.

Me citaré como si de un ligue o un poeta muerto me tratase:

"One's born alone, dies alone and in some cases, lives alone. And you ask me how I manage? Guts, fella, that's how."

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Si fuera poeta te escribiría un verso...

^^





I’ve got a friend who…

No, wait, I’ve come here to talk about my book.

Of the many, many things life has given (and sometimes taken from) me, friends have always been my family in terms of how I vent my bad moods with them and also how grateful I feel it’s them, not strangers, who have to deal with it. I love my blood relations, mindya, but I love my friends as well and as much, not because I chose them, but because they chose me (bother the consequences).

One of my best-loved friends once told me I wasn’t special because of the friends I’d chosen, but because they had chosen me in the first place. I don’t really know or care about which came first (though I’m sure it wasn´t the chick, who looked all pissed off while the egg was smoking a cigarette) but it’s nice when friends throw some light upon the self-concern tunnel we usually drive through. With ‘we’ I mean, well, turn the ‘w’ upside down. And I can’t even drive :D

But I can tell green from red.

I have friends of many kinds and species and they only have one me, which makes it very hard for me to show them how much I love them, with a two-to-ten job and the usual selfishness, *y el clavel*. I am but a skinny *casi* redhead who won’t ever (EVER) be able to return all the love and joy you’ve provided. Well, if I ever win the lotto, I’ll buy plenty of time… and still it wouldn’t be enough, with my gift of the gab and so many of you. I’d be dead by the time I got to letter D, assuming I started off alphabetically, which is fair but unoriginal.

My friends love me because I’m good at English and have green fingers. They can count on me as *comodín de la llamada* anytime, because I remember almost everything, and if I don’t remember, it never happened (or it isn't a capital city), not even in Wikipedia. I am fun in leap years and on Friday nights and awful under full moons or PMS, so I guess they like change :D

I love my friends because it’s them and sunshine that make me happy and like life, and it’s them alone that do me favours in all seasons and accept next to nothing in return - no risk of getting skin cancer is a win-win any road up.

My friends help me do the gardening, or even do my gardening while I sit around and do not.
I just give them the fruits of the earth, and grab cold beer cans from the fridge. And order pizza. That I am good at.

My friends drive me home all the time.
Home’s there for them all the time.

My friends pretend I play the guitar, and tell strangers I do so well.
I bang Evangeline for them to repent. And I sing along. And they stay, and love me anyway!

My friends always know the right thing to say or do for my good. Always. It’s awesome.

I love to make them laugh, and I try hard, and have the memorablest moments (wait, did I type that out loud?) because of it, and them, mwahahaaaa!

I've got a dearest who(m) I wrote a poem to and made her cry. HER, no less. So much for talent... Someone wrote ME a sonnet once and I was so impressed I still shudder and laugh.

I must be cool , I've *gotten meeself* a fine set of lovers, in the purest sense of the word. You guys are the very best people I’ve ever met. And I’ve met a bunch.

And you know what? See when you think you’ve hurt someone, maybe you haven’t, but you could have, or maybe you really have, anyway you believe you have, and you feel so bad about it, it dawns on you the void they would leave if… Well, whatever. I’ve got a friend who loves me back.

I wasn’t an ass. For once. And that has made all the difference.

Of all the feelings in and out of this world, I take relief. As a matter of fact, I can't get enough of it.

When I look at this photo I picture myself XD

^^