Good Names For Villas

I. Crazy ass fucked and Evil: A Conversation in the slums. Ripol

begin by thanking those who followed Ripol's Letters. For those bored with them, a thousand apologies. Maybe one day come back.

Now, try to respond to a challenge launched by a blogger friend, Xavier, who follows me carefully and anonymously. As I tried to walk in the Bogotá previous entries below, I urged Xavi (the confidence is because I know him) to make these routes from below: perhaps more crude, less puritanical (it seemed like the above).

Here's my response: Chronicles thugs. I do not know if it's a series (perhaps a series of one entry?). We'll see where it takes me by the mind and heart in these days of sadness and loneliness (things go wrong).

For starters, let's say I have started to sift through the recesses of memory. I stopped at one of its corners and places and relived moments of my childhood.

I've noticed that sometimes there are things that require time to be understood.
One of these was a famous fight between two women I saw in the marketplace for eight years.

was a sunny Saturday stingy. My mother did, as usual, the coffee's too early to my father went to work and, while I washed, prepared their bags for shopping. There was still the era of 'shopping' and the family market was in a very spontaneous, almost folk.

As always, before reaching the plaza, we passed the grandparents' house, which was very close.

As the two old prayed the rosary still morning, we had to wait out the last of the mysteries and my grandmother became aware of bags and taffeta ribbons, a product of the rubble of an old curtain, to tie the bags and start driving twenty minutes.

slowly go out on four. But soon, on arrival, we realized that, at the beach bar the entry of the square, a crowd listened attentively to the dispute aired two vendors. The atmosphere, the hubbub of the fair, I loved it.

arrived at the scene, my grandfather took my hand, hers was squelched, always remember, a thousand and one spots, and, while women were entertained in the middle onions, broccoli and parsley, we stayed to monitor the emotional trouble.

Word was, word coming and jargon without coding, even in my head, I was overwhelmed with expressions that only I could play great and perverted.

- Mal fucked!, Shouting Jacinta, broaching it with derisive laughter, three seconds before this funny rhyme: "Before you told me one-eyed, and was behind the door."

- What's wrong, crazy ass? Concha replied, also known as "The mouth and 'duck'.

There were, therefore, in view of everyone, "Mal fuck" and "crazy ass", Jacinta and María del Carmen Concepción, fighting over trifles in the midst of the most offensive contumely.

never knew the real reason for the war. He knew my grandfather, then by virtue of the exercise of gossip as Latino, but took the secret to the grave, the damned.

significant compensation

What could I, then, to give such statements? Rang in my ears and maybe I tore a mischievous grin. Nothing more.

Once extended the proportions of my body, my mind expanded its size, the evil genius took my psyche and I was never innocent. My grandparents died, he stopped the morning rosary, the rosary was lost, went out of faith, they closed the market square, demolished the snack bar, posing an avenue for the place and went with his racket women.

Now I can quote with confidence Concha Jacinta and laugh with the language so brilliantly created for that stupid war.

I think only after Freud could understand those fishwives. According to psychoanalysis, from the intricacies of memory and the subconscious forever remain vivid memories of things unmet or unresolved unknowns, ie lacerations only memory that was not clear in the past as the old saying about the dead coming back because they left a case without solve them do not rest without light facts that wander in the darkroom of memory. Mal

1. 
   Fucked: not just an adjective and an adverb, the term denotes a provision of behavior. This sentence expresses the effects on behavior from a bad sex. It is the existential feeling of dissatisfaction that arises when a dunk was abusive, fast, or ungracious. 'Bad fucked' is the moral status of someone whose vagina and ass are not well used as a means of pleasure. Mal
   fucked emphasizes the fact that intercourse is not enough to grow in dignity and self-esteem through sex. This expression defines the primacy of technology over the size, but not devalues that as a woman's belly is filled with a feast to the eye and can be completed sexual eye to see a Polish sausage stuck to the groin of a male. Poor fuck is a reminder of the sadness, unhappiness and bitterness that govern the lives of many women whose men are the culean wrong.


2. 
   crazy ass: ass word usually refers to the hole now fleshy that sealed the digestive tract through which fecal matter is expelled, now the entire set of the two buttocks or sometimes by extension, even preaches female reproductive systems. Surrounded by soft body hair at puberty and in adulthood rough. This is for me the meaning of significant noise 'ass. " Moreover, the folly is a mental state of irrationality that affects attitudes and away from the normal fee. In other words, a crazy ass is an ass irrational, extroverted, and hungry looking forward to a phallus that quiets itching dermis that piece of rough and hairy. Also, a crazy ass is an ass who has experienced good culeadas (or otherwise) and which for that reason, has developed a complex of anxiety expressed either as addiction or co-dependent relationship with the cock. Like fucking bad, the crazy ass profess one belief: the dissatisfaction. Seventeen years

insist, seventeen years later I came to discover that what was said Shell Jacinta and to each other at full market place was this: You're unhappy and you should be ashamed of it. Together they proclaimed

and disguised in a robe of taunt and fight. Both Jacinta and Concha are reminded each other that the bitterness and unhappiness they cause friction, were merely the result of dissatisfaction both lived. Insurance I am that this dissatisfaction was not just sexual. I am sure that there was also frustrated dreams of grandiosity, need for recognition, desire to be different and frustration can not be. Seventeen years later, I understand the point of being able to scream, "Eureka! "I think

Jacinta and Concha, to tell each other crazy ass fucked and Mal were saying in solidarity," sister, friend, weeping and lamenting our fate! Let us remember these dirges vulgar, rude, the sad reality of our pathetic lives have condemned us to be servants, market women, the poor, sent, crazy ass, and fucking bad. "

If you liked the text, and leave your comments, visit the blog Xavi:
http://papelesburdos.blogspot.com/

Pictured: a child, it could have been me in the marketplace Paloquemao in Bogotá, Colombia. taken from www.flickr.com