GUSTAVO
RIVERA|PE
LUDIENTE |M
ELISSA SO
TO|IVÁN AC
OSTA DOS
cerebro v.001
S A N TO S
Editora de Contenido Lola Pistola PRIMERA EDICIÓN SEPTIEMBRE.2010
SUBMIT CONTRIBUIYE FICCIÓN CORTA Cuentos cortos de ficción no deben ser de menos de 1,000 palabras ni sobrepasar las 3,000. POESÍA Someter solamente de 8 a 12 poemas en un solo documento. IMAGEN + DISEÑO Toda imagen sometida debe ser en formato JPEG (.jpg) y no debe exceder 2 MB.
* Todo documento debe ser enviado en formato: .txt, Rich Text (.rtf), MS Word (.doc), o PDF (.pdf). * Las imágenes varian desde: fotografías, trabajos escaneados, arte digital y poesía visual. * Enviar a: dra.lolapistola@gmail.com
cerebro
v.001
contribuidores 4 peludiente 5 gustavo rivera 7 ivĂĄn acosta dos santos 8 melissa soto
Poesía Facundo
Azuliticus Mandrilousa
El viejo vagabundo Facundo No tecato, viaja por el mundo…
Los Mandriles Azules Poseen movimientos controlados Por invisibles hilos que bajan de las nubes
Por el mundo de la ciudad en la metro… Es un espectro compuesto De etapas vivénciales, Soledad, problemas sociales, Felicidad, padre rechazado, Corazón humano Por la establecido Marginado De re ojo mirado Atómico aficionado Para olvidar se da el palo Siempre despierta En el mismo lugar tirado.
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Los Mandriles Azules No saben el por que de sus actitudes Esperando por el pago del viernes Y locos por que sea lunes En sus entrenamientos Nublaron sus nubes Y como perro apretado por cuello Muerde al que traiga luces Los Mandriles Azules No ven el daño que a otros producen Pues desde que les asaltaron el alma ¡A todas sus victimas ya le han puesto cruces, cruces, cruces y ataúdes!
The Glossy Balloon 1ST PART
Cuentos
Sean’s already viewed the security footage given to him by the manager of the supermarket where one of the check-cashing frauds had occurred a few times. In it, a large man with a blond mullet buys three cartons of Marlboro Reds. The cashier looks at people’s faces. People twitch in line. Somehow, Jimmy does not cash John’s check, nor does John cash his own check, but, according to the store’s records, John’s check was cashed. Sean wanted to see Jimmy, his brother, who he believed was the one who cashed John’s check, on the video footage. Jimmy cashed multiple other of his co-workers from Swamp Land’s checks, not that specific day, but on various other days, following this day. Sean didn’t see Jimmy on the footage. And the footage shouldn’t lie, right? Sitting on his couch, he pressed rewind on the control remote. He had to see the footage again. He had to see Jimmy cashing John’s check. According to the supermarket’s records, on August 22nd, John’s check was cashed at 3:30 PM, but a week later, John complained that he had never received his last week’s paycheck. It wasn’t just his last paycheck. Every employee at Swamp Land was to receive his or her last paycheck, because Swamp Land was closing down, but none of them had received their checks. “And actually,” John had said in Swamp Land’s financial office, “I didn’t get the previous week’s check either.” Jimmy had planned the hoax, Sean knew it, surrounded by his missing-person flyers showing Jimmy, his girlfriend, Rachel, and their son, Sebadoh. He was passing these flyers all over town trying to find a clue as to their whereabouts. Sean needed to find Jimmy in order to save Sebadoh from the inevitable hell of a life he’d have with Jimmy. Sean was positive that Jimmy had been planning a break, even when Jimmy had been working for Swamp Land again, bringing in a consistent income, and not arriving home noticeably drunk or high. Sean had no doubt about it, because Jimmy would not allow himself to be imprisoned: taking care of his child, being a decent partner to Rachel. When Jimmy was sixteen, his parents had called the cops on him, and he was arrested in possession of a few pounds of marijuana, stuff he was selling to the kids around town. His parents had not known what to do with him. Before they had resorted to the authorities, Jimmy’s parents had spent many nights stumbling around their living room with attempts at alternative ideas, but they could never decide on anything concrete. They had looked at each other’s face without gesturing. It had seemed as if they no longer had faces, as if Cut Here was outlined where their faces should’ve been. They thought Jimmy would rot living in the no-control environment that was their home. They held Sean to no restrictions, but Sean functioned well. Sean had no academic problems, never got suspended, never got into fights, was never lying. Jimmy by contrast had to be moved from school to school. His parents worked more than necessary to pay for a private education for Jimmy, where Jimmy began to sell drugs to the rich kids too afraid to enter the shady neighborhoods where substance was rampant. But Jimmy had kept on doing whatever he wanted all the time, and had gotten expelled from the private school as well. He was sent back from reform school. Jimmy’s parents were afraid he’d die young, so they
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turned him over to the state. In the courtroom, Jimmy had felt bitter. He heard roars of anger inside his head listening to the judge’s verdict. He would be detained in juvenile hall until he was of age. He thought things like, My fucking Pa just fucking turned me fucking in! When he turned twenty-one, he was released, and got his first job at Swamp Land, where he first met Rachel. She was eighteen then. They were staffed in the town’s only water-park. What made Swampland special was that it was the only water park which used genuine swamp water in its pools. Some of the attractions had genuine swamp wildlife, which had somehow shown up, not having been brought in by the park’s planners. But the wildlife was left there for ambiance and more explicit genuineness. During breaks, while the rest of the Swamp Land staff gossiped about one another, Rachel would meet Jimmy behind the bathrooms. They’d smoke cigarettes, while Rachel hoped he’d ask her out. Now, after a month of Sean’s searching for them, Jimmy was thirty-one. Sean did not want to complicate things by calling the authorities for help. He was afraid they’d take Sebadoh away, and he would never have another chance to see him. Lately, Sean had been inserting his missing-person flyers into each paper he dropped off on his routes. Jimmy had run off for the first time when Sebadoh was two. Jimmy returned with track marks on his arms when Sebadoh was five. He hung-out for a little while, not working, drinking daily, and then disappeared again. During the time that Jimmy was gone, Sean had acted as a father to Sebadoh. Rachel lived in an extra room Sean had. She eventually became a manager at Swamp Land and had a decent income. Sean delivered newspapers. He woke up early, picked up the package at the drop-off spot, drove around town, distributed the papers, and returned home. He’d been doing it for years. The routine was structure to him. He was comfortable. When Rachel was working, Sean had taken care of Sebadoh. When Sebadoh was older, Sean drove him still asleep through the dawn of the day, while he gave out the papers, until it was time to drop Sebadoh off at school. In the afternoon, Sean picked him up. Jimmy had recently reappeared a few months ago, with a bit of a habit, but adamantly claiming that this time it was for real, he was going to keep his life straight. Rachel got Jimmy a job as a janitor at Swamp Land. He was given a key to enter every night, and sweep the floors, dust the counters, refill the coolers, clean the bathrooms, throw out the trash. Jimmy did a good job. But Jimmy also had access to the employee files, and to their checks. He began to swipe checks, and cashed them at check-cashing joints. The money he made, he used to buy drugs or alcohol, yet tried to keep his substance usage from being noticed. When he found out that Swamp Land was going to close soon, he decided to steal as many of his coworkers’ checks as possible, and leave town again, this time with his family. Now, all three were gone, and Sean was alone. In his bedroom, he watched the footage again. Soon, he’d head out to pick up the package of papers. Tonight, along with a few of the previous nights, he hadn’t slept, but instead chose to maintain himself viewing footage. Why was this so hard? Why couldn’t shit just be cool? At the moment in which John should’ve cashed his check, at 2:30 PM, there is no one was in front of the cashier. Even before the moment of the check-cashing, 2:29, the person in line—who would have cashed John’s check, if anyone had cashed John’s check, and according to record, someone did cash John’s check—is a blur. And when, at 2:30, that blur-person approaches the cashier, the lights dim, the cashier hands money to air, and the bills disappear into the blur. Sean didn’t understand this blur, the dimming of the lights, that he never saw Jimmy on the footage.
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Poesía El secreto sobre la verdad
(la trampa) Jueyes tragados
Los secretos
Cuando se lo trague, sácala del pescuezo y tenías que haberle metido leña al fogón que una olla ahogada usaba de mesa.
secretan La verdad.
erra dos Me fallé. No entendía cómo querer y yo era uno. No estamos aparte mami, soy nosotros. Te perdono.
Tiemposaurio de don Limón Pasa así, desde que el tiempo envejeció me florecen amistades. Ahora se organizan en ejércitos de amigos por siempre.
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