R .'s Dandelife : Things I haven't forgotten yet

Desapareció

R . — Thu Sep 25 06:09:32 UTC 2008

Where did it go? Three paragraphs or four. Maybe it's not lost.

I called you this morning. There's a paper on this desk in which I wrote your vitals. Don't worry. I will give you what you want. Bradycardia. Tell me you want bradycardia.

You can repeat it for me. You can say it louder for me. You can.

Charlie is with me now. He died a long time ago, but he's with me.

Don't worry. I'll call the cops for you and I'll tell them it was me.

These streets tasted my blood too

R . — Sun May 11 03:09:05 UTC 2008

I fell. The impact had been hard enough for me to feel as if I was part of the sidewalk now. Were my hands becoming gray? Not yet. I watched as cars passed by and wondered if the people inside them could distinguish me from the sidewalk. No. No witnesses.

My knee had stained the sidewalk. I was glad I had acted fast enough. I don't like it when my head stains things.

Tears were already slowly rolling down my cheeks. I tried standing up, but it felt as if I was stabbing myself repeteadly on the legs while burning the rest of my body. I mumbled and cried in pain. How would I go back? I tried standing up again, trying to use the bike as an oversized cane, but I only managed to make everything hurt more. I started thinking of other ways of moving. I tried crawling, but that hurt just as much. So, I sadly continued to sit where I was, in front of a house of people who had nicely decorated the edges of their yard with orange bricks. I decided I would sit there for a while, imaginarily mapping which streets would be more appropriate for my upcoming crawling adventures and hoping no one at "home" would notice my new found "crippleness." It didn't seem like a good idea to go back anymore. Dying seemed like a more attractive option, but then I remembered there weren't any vultures in this town. Not the ones with feathers at least.

A bearded man approached me. He told me he had seen me from afar, and noticing the pain I was in, asked me if he could call anyone for me. I gave him my number, and soon enough, my parents were there to pick me up. I couldn't hide my pain, but to my relief, my parents were as kind as the person who had called them for me. At home, I sat on the couch and asked my mother to get Icy Hot for me. I couldn't afford a fracture, so I didn't go to the doctor. Any possible fracture would have to remain secret.

A week later, the man called and asked me if I was well. His call surprised me. I didn't know strangers could care about me. I thanked him and told him what I usually tell everyone when they ask me how I am, "Yes, I'm fine."

I wasn't able to walk properly for months.

Get Satisfaction: The Rolling Stones are Not Sponsoring This Message

R . — Wed Apr 09 19:01:45 UTC 2008

Dandelife is on getsatisfaction.com and I didn't know about it. I feel ignorant, but since I was the very first dandelifer to discover it, I'm going to brag about it.

No. This won't work. How do I brag about it without making faces? If you want to see and hear the bragging, you have to body-snatch my neighbors. - That's the best way to go about it without me noticing.

Either way, this discovery has made me feel as if there are many other things I don't know about, and I don't like it. The solution for this is for you to tell me everything. Are there any websites there that I might not know about? Does anyone else here use it? What's the meaning of life?

You want a kiss. I want chocolate.

R . — Fri Aug 24 05:18:46 UTC 2007

I started understanding the concept of money when I discovered the wonders of chocolate. It became very clear that I needed coins to get someone to put this delicious treat on my hands, and after careful observation, I realized that my parents and other giants had those coins.

Like any other child would, I asked for the coins or pointed at the neatly wrapped chocolate, but my request wasn't understood well. In fact, the giants would ignore me completely at times. This puzzled me... until they asked me for something. They wanted me to kiss their giant cheeks. And, that's how at the young age of 2, I started my kiss selling business.

How much was one kiss worth? A sun.

I would own a few galaxies by now, but the suns I asked for fit in my tiny pockets. You see, the Peruvian currency is called "sol" which literally translates to "sun."

And, I gave each of them up for a little bit of sweetness.

First Lips

R . — Sat Aug 18 22:47:28 UTC 2007

I don't remember my first kiss at all.

He must've been a bad kisser.

Summer and Insect Surplus

R . — Tue Jul 03 02:08:10 UTC 2007

It's all about trade-offs. The trade-off between sun exposure and skin cancer.

I didn't see any ants

R . — Tue May 08 11:03:35 UTC 2007

There have been worse nights, but this is happening now, and that tends to change memories into intangible illusions. Perhaps nothing ever happened.

This is the end of the semester. Many students are grilling their brains, and we are all invited to this party. Smell all the knowledge and the misery! Some people dance towards their classes while others stumble into them, hoping they won't vomit the incorrect answer.

I'm supposed to be part of this party, but I'm not there. My thoughts are in some other world, a world in which sleeping and standing up is difficult...and no one knows. How could I tell them? Why would I tell them? Catharsis is fiction. It's never helped.

I just want a damn solution, and I hope it doesn't involve becoming part of a cannibal tribe to take pictures with tourists (or possible meal).

Sending love letters to uncle Sam

R . — Sat Apr 14 10:01:53 UTC 2007

They call them "taxes."

I think I've had to fill out about a million forms. That is the beauty of self employment. I'm ready for a nap. If uncle Sam liked me a little, I wouldn't have to go through all this trouble. Maybe things will get better later. Maybe.

Rebeca discovers America!

R . — Fri Apr 06 10:34:06 UTC 2007

I first discovered Houston. The natives spoke a language that seemed quite strange to me, so I decided to leave immediately and go into the nearest airplane which took me to the O'Hare airport in Chicago. The people here also spoke a strange language, but I dismissed it because it's not fun to be in airplanes for several hours unless you are the pilot (in which case, you can always wake yourself up by turning the plane upside down).

When I arrived, it was getting dark, but the lights of the city defeated the darkness. I couldn't really see the city, but I could outline it with my mind. - I'm sure a psychologist would be impressed by my cognitive capacity. - My first impression of Chicago was a collection of numerous, colorful dots of lights, which was nice, because it was something I could easily recall after an acid trip.

At the airport, a stranger was waiting for us. This stranger was going to take us to a place in which my mother and my little sister were waiting for us. I wondered how they had managed to land in such a strange place, and I hoped they hadn't mutated into science fiction creatures.

(No. Those things weren't in my mind.)

We were moving west from Chicago, leaving the lights behind and entering deeper into the darkness of the night. Somehow I hadn't arrived yet. My mind had divided itself: it had stayed in that last morning in South America, in the voices at the airport, and in the airplane that served cold, tasteless sandwiches. I didn't understand the sudden change. I heard something in the distance. It was my own voice. It was whispering, "What happened?"

It was screaming.

"Where am I?"

Kicked out of High School (along with all the other seniors)

R . — Tue Apr 03 09:11:59 UTC 2007

The people from Sterling High School finally decided to get rid of me, and in order to do so, they planned a graduation, which was basically a clever scheme to kick me out. They thought I wouldn't notice because everybody else from my class was also part of this, but I noticed a few things that were a bit strange:

1. The people from other classes didn't seem to share the enthusiasm of seniors, except when the word "prom" was mentioned. (This is the reason why I didn't go to this "prom.")
2. We had to wear something apart from our clothes, including a silly looking hat.
3. A lot of people came to this event...despite the fact there wasn't any free food.

When the "ceremony" was over, I went home to measure the weight of the paper they had given me, but I didn't have a balance. So, I did nothing. (That means I took pictures, read a book, and hid my shoes.)

Shortly afterwards, I learned that there were other institutions that were ready to accept me and teach me new words, such as "debt" and "frat parties." -- More on that on our next episode.

Aliens abandon me in South America

R . — Tue Apr 03 08:47:50 UTC 2007

This is the day in which the people who call themselves my parents say I was born, and they claim all of this happened in Lima, Peru. However, I have no recollection of this event and I won't testify to anything. According to unreliable human witnesses, they first saw me on Earth at around 3pm in a hospital for cop families, although I wasn't really part of a cop family. (Shh. This is supposed to be top secret.)

If you know how I really appeared on Earth and you have evidence to back up your statements, feel free to contact me.

Joined dandelife

R . — Tue Apr 03 08:39:35 UTC 2007

I was deleting my account on a different website when I stumbled upon a link to dandelife. And, since I was terribly curious, I decided to join and see if I could use it to help me remember events (which will obviously lead me to becoming ruler of the world).