in time, space and distance:
diary of a time travelling serial killer.
Pablo Manrique
in time, space and distance: The best was yet to come
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Did you forget? the painful question the color of normality and expectation
the dream
diary of a time travelling serial killer.
the clock reeking of death meanwhile me obsessed with surveillance and deprivation. pissed and jealous of those who go after it:
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in time, space and distance:
diary of a time travelling serial killer.
Mind eater
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“Open for me� and you do. I get so close that my smell stirs up your blood. Close, yet almost without touching our bodies already talk and vibrate with the brutality of this desire, black polka dots on crimson red flood the murderous looks, and as they dissolve reality I believe, for a moment, almost in magic.
in time, space and distance:
Then, I leave, still with your smell on me, and I get back into the fog.
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diary of a time travelling serial killer.
Slice of Distance
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in time, space and distance: Status of the facts
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The other is the death of the possible escape, the romance with the wine — which, in its phantasmagoria — doesn’t stop punching us in the eyes with those vile flashes of light, like that heavenly light that comes in through the two-part-door of the bar they kicked us out of. There, where they speak a different language and gravity is not the same. Let me say something about that: There’s hope as well as despair in gravity, just like there is pain and love in the game. Sometimes, I walk a chaotic labyrinth of wormholes. We kinda all do.
diary of a time travelling serial killer.
One of the axises of my discomfort is the juice extracted from a rusty soul. The lack of strength and the difficulty in squeezing the digital mop dry. The sad spectacle of the trading of dignity.
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in time, space and distance: Sutter Station
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diary of a time travelling serial killer.
What’s love?
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Nothing remains.
in time, space and distance:
Nothing of all there used to be. Only the certainty that everything will be better.
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Death always leaves that behind. The certainty that everything’s changed and the past will never come back. I’m terrified to go into it any deeper than that. I better shut my mouth and transit around like another light bulb on the map. Another scale on the snake. The tenderness. The feet. My horrendous flat foot, and the beautiful little feet. The crying and screaming can still be heard. Only distance is left, victorious at last, and the sand.
diary of a time travelling serial killer.
The power of indefference
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in time, space and distance: Resignation
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It may be beneficial for the whole species to provide some help to the ‘freaks who suspect they can never love anyone:’ go to the movies with them, give them a few sips of contraband white wine through an extended double straw, teach them how to kiss, talk a little about the history of the city and, why not? draw a minimalistic picture of them.
diary of a time travelling serial killer.
There are ways to deal with stupidity.
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in time, space and distance: A flower in time
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diary of a time travelling serial killer.
Delorean
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in time, space and distance: Fantasy Necklace
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There’s no room for the storm. And so goes destiny. You trip on a wire and set off the shotgun loaded with photo ammo. Images. They blast small holes through your brain and soul. It’s the acid flavor of time rubbing on your tongue. Iggy and the division provide the context, the atmosphere, to be able to grasp some of this again without going all the way out of your mind.
It’s just a matter of *time* sisters, and brothers, between you and me - our incestuous hot fucking sessions. I’m sick. But you like that. We bury intensity. We really should not. Its overwhelming power can get us so epiphanically drunk. I love it. And you must love it too. After all, What the fuck do you have to lose?
diary of a time travelling serial killer.
I could have not hurt her, or anyone for that matter.
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in time, space and distance: Pleasure is all you need
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diary of a time travelling serial killer.
Sauna
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Reasons for prohibition “Everything is a ‘gateway’ everything. Water is a gateway liquid, that eventually can be made responsible for your alcoholism.” he said, as he sucked on that yellow straw.
in time, space and distance:
There was nothing left to say. He could have kissed her right there and then, after she said “you only get one shot, so you better do all the things you want to do in life.”
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Jesus, but he didn’t. He stopped for some mysterious reason. He looked at her purple shirt and purple pants and felt something. “How did you end up like this?” - she asked him and he just couldn’t get himself to explain why there were mountains of dirty laundry all over the fucking room and a vibrator, and a toothpaste tube on the desk.
diary of a time travelling serial killer.
Hachette
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in time, space and distance:
diary of a time travelling serial killer.
Castaway
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in time, space and distance: What would Jesus do?
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This guy played at a bar.
He lives in the same world that I do, ‘where schools try to fool me and fools try to school me,’ but he’s managed to find a place to create a possibility ... the thing that happens with the perfect combination of substance, will and innocence. I’m sure it will all die as things do, but the glimpse of pulsating lights and noisy psychedelic music was inspiring.
diary of a time travelling serial killer.
It looked like it could be 1968. I didn’t know whether it was the booze or the overdose of human contact, but something emphasized the impact of suddenly realizing that another drone who lives in the factory as a human cog was, in reality, a great showman.
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in time, space and distance: Magic hero at stork club
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You sing like janis. She had this incredible voice, almost like janis joplin, and she would just sing in this way that I wouldn’t be able to think straight, as she was in the kitchen washing dishes. I walked over and stood behind her like an idiot while she finished one cup and turned around to glance at me, probably years after she noticed I’d walked in.
I should just take a picture of the bathtub and get it over with, right? Let’s drink another one and get the bass and play some lines. Maybe someone will begin singing from another apartment. Fuck that. I just wish she wouldn’t have left after that night. We really just drank a couple glasses and she called a cab. I was boring to her. I just wanted to hear her sing. I think she would have liked the janis joplin comparison. What do you think?
diary of a time travelling serial killer.
Shit. All I could do was say ‘hello’ and say what I’m telling you - ‘you sing beautifuly. Please don’t ever leave’ - but she stopped singing and then laughed, and I was just about to ask her but she walked over to me, dropping the towel on her way to the bar, and she kissed me.
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in time, space and distance: Bye
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diary of a time travelling serial killer.
Self portrait
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in time, space and distance: 32
Heart maintenance in a hypertech world.
There is little to do in this field. Still, we have to set up camp and work destiny to make sure our engine keeps running, our skin stays somewhat moisturized, our soul, well, I’m hopeful that will show up soon.
diary of a time travelling serial killer.
Eart maintenance
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I’m a robot. I have no mood. However, I believe in free radicals that can eventually constitute a soul.
in time, space and distance:
I believe in fire, and chemistry. In mindblowing infusions to the core.
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Anyways, I usually go around and meet people -humans- by making patterns - repetitions, which humans need in endless loops before they are able to see things they were not ready to in the first place. It’s a funny process, much like the process of giving birth, and this same exercise, which causes some type of conflict, or variable disruption in me, is what makes me squeak. I guess it’s all about the unattainable element. Pain. I’m constantly after it, oh, My ghost.
diary of a time travelling serial killer.
Introspection
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There you were, with a pair of somewhat tight jeans and a black shirt, also a bit tight, with ruffles.
in time, space and distance:
Your Betty Page style haircut and your “greek sandals” —as I would call them—contrasted with my stupidity.
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I missed a few calls after that. I found one; returned it and we talked — I got a bit jealous, but that’s ok. It’s good to remember the taste of true real life; the one with sharp edges at every turn. The one that ends in death and that makes it so that a hug and a peck kiss are a reason to feel relieved.
diary of a time travelling serial killer.
Lost robots
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in time, space and distance:
Vengeance and blood, sand and sunshine.
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diary of a time travelling serial killer.
A sunny dream
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in time, space and distance: 40
I found a calendar with marked dates on practically every day.
It’s all empty after March all the way until June where there’s all this lunar shit. Can’t explain right now. This could be a lot of trouble. Like, looking at old pictures on one of those web profiles where we would share all these lies about who we were. The real facade. Because nothing is fake, when it comes from the heart, even a mask. A synthetic skin. It’s just a new dimension to the soul.
diary of a time travelling serial killer.
Welcome to the alley
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in time, space and distance:
The notebook was found two months after the project went public.
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Nobody cared. It sounded like a teenage prank. A decent, victimless game. People called the character all sorts of names. Nobody will know the truth. Not even a glimpse will be allowed through the murk, not even to confuse anyone. This is total control. Otherwise, people would realize it’s all fiction. That we’re trapped and wrapped in this bubble. That it will burst. They all do. And better things will come.
diary of a time travelling serial killer.
Unfinished biz
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A day in the in the life
in time, space and distance: diary of a time travelling serial killer. Pablo Manrique