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2 ...,

Life happens, what I know it and I am nothing, but nothing original. Every day we have the opportunity to write something in the great book of books. We can do whatever we want on that page, that page today unique. From a humble sad or doodle to the novel ever written. We can put a spot of color that give us rage or paint the most beautiful picture created by man. There is also the staff is up to us to put enough balanced notes, tempo, ligatures, trills, chords and create the sound never heard, the sublime moment of a Bb lost in the immensity of the cosmos or leave " Ad libitum "the sound grows . Feel the shimmering brilliance of our existence and make it eternal. In this we are free, so just us so we decided to put, place, remove.

also have the power to start the page, make a pile of paper and forget "that" day.

some time I wanted to write this post. I have time giving long, not knowing how to put into words what life gives me, the experiences we live. The wonderful thing that has been shared with so many wonderful people. All I learned, everything that is beautiful to look in other eyes and learn from them "Thanks be for all eternity, my beloved and dear Empress China. must be the age that makes me see things from another point of view, must also be cheesy it makes me mellow and present. Today, for example, I told a friend who, at our age, life is for gourmets. We take it all but not be choked, be like gourmets eat anything but ... moderation. Temperance is called by the ancients.

life also hits us when we least expect it, and even so we must be prepared.

I had four cats, Na Tongolele, believe me, ONLY if I have four cats, I mentioned during my trip to Venezuela, I am prepared, at this point in my life, to farewells. It is time to objectively and without passion foolish to accept that there are people who will leave my party when I least expect it. People who have the bad taste to go before me.

knew her back in 1979. She was the sister's husband, a teacher of high school. A lady from before. It was quite a character and scrutinizing everything from its medieval watchtower. She was the queen of his kingdom, his faithful subjects were Brito and Chinese. His opinion was final in the paper world, rules, types, the dreaded guillotine background and the smell of fresh ink. Then afterwards, it was in his world of glass, frames "Maria Luisa" , mirrors, lots of prints, paintings, oil paintings and glass. Entered her home, in private gallery Valencian authors and marine enviable Cañas. I went home and I nestled in it. I found a home that is bright blue and his daughter. The sister I never had. There was Ice Castles, "Toquionesas" who was born June 21, 1979, dancing in Barbarella, much "True Love" of Columbus and his Trombone, many beaches, carnivals, long days, short days, some weeping and smiles. Always smiles.

life gives us, without asking or consulting us, those things that you can accept without protest. We arrived and there they are. A language, a homeland and even a family. We, of sheer daring, we construct another family while we live, we are filled with other mothers, other parents, brothers, uncles, cousins, nephews. Rounding out the family that already have.

She became another mother to me, the putative mother one must get through life and you pull the ears, better, or worse, that's true.

She was awesome, a virgin all four sides. Mrs. Columba and his parents Don Rafael ", ie putative-shaking my grandparents to see her go. Dona was a whole-Guerre Guerre, but with a heart more wobbly than butter on a freshly baked cachapa.

By Ella moved heaven and earth for me to succeed, I climbed on stage and built an ephemeral dream among colored lights.

She was the "intléplido voladol" with a couple of bags of each, with their lenses to Jacqueline Kennedy, and her niece and daughter and I died laughing.

indigestion She and our cheese. She fought with everyone but in the end with everyone laughing. She and the "bienmesabe" world's richest . She and her photos with obelisks sixties hair and go-go dresses bacteria.

She taught me to combine stubs bills and make circles with the index, on pristine reams of paper to them, as if by magic, handy.

She and her lots of stories. She and her imperial eagle eye. She and her many goals. She almost bore me, your child is older than me only for 7 hours ...

Lately, every time I travel to Valencia Venezuela, I fall short in my "press conference" -and call my friends to my travels, I'm not go on vacation if the road as others, and I could not see it. My real family takes me all the time and I have time pod to see my friends.

Last Thursday I was kidnapped by a mutual friend and took me to see it. 5 years ago that his eyes did not see nor hear the voice "in situ" and surti the miracle. It's amazing when true love grows between equals.

"The love they have in life are never forgotten ..." said Ilan that song in the early 80's with good reason. There we were, she and I, in our particular "memory and has" returned to laugh, to hug, to remember now, as Nini, our mutual friend, a daughter of her and a sister to me, and Dolores-su sister is my aunt were almost silent witnesses.

We parted with the promise of seeing us next month.

No chance, no power will be. She left. She'll like Doña Guerre "my party left two days later. I left without saying goodbye. She genius and figure. I cried last Sunday, I could not go to pay my love ... it was not possible. I cried watching the sea, the crowd of gulls listening guarachas and even a mambo. Music started crying and I was speechless.

"... back to understand that love is the right and duty" sometimes we are so slow to understand.

Hilda ... what pod you. Now how can we do? When smiles turn to share?

Only I can think of you again thank you. And to think this talk of how immensely grateful I am of having shared a moment of great moment that is every moment of a smile. Of your smile.

Thanks for the smiles though my eyes are still wet plump glitter for your departure.

by 1.

Today I have mixed feelings. Life, as usual, gives chasms and ridges. Yesterday he was awarded the Prince of Asturias Award for my orchestra. Jose Antonio dreamed that one day beyond 1975 and think, I is inevitable, in Elida, Florentino, Antonio, Cheo, Matilde, Veronica, Juan Pablo, Izcaray-mi director, Michelle and her cello, Martha, Andrew, Joaquin Mary Schwarzenberg-this lady has a pact with the devil, 4th grade teacher was my mother at school beyond Peñalver, and is egalitarian, my theory and music theory classes, the do-sol-re-la of my cello, "why not invent a fretted cello ... Elida remember? - those devilish "false harmonics", Micaela with her fingers bleeding at the point of pizzicato. Mauricio with his drums ... the wonderful Morella Muñoz.

I hope that the cousin, Dudamel, delight us playing the violin. Paul Tan will still live or the twins are great, for something Barquisimeto is the musical capital of Venezuela.

If you want to vibrate, though, for my taste is a little bit fast-seek in youtube Danzon Arturo Márquez Issue 2, played by my band, and smile.

All the best for you.

PS: This was not the post I had prepared, once again choose life. The next is, I intend, about my intolerance.

Seans .pl M Jak Milosc

That distant music ... (Series 3, last delivery)

Suddenly there we are, with feelings and broken mirrors, vain, trying to maintain the rate. We draw, as much as possible, a smile, breathe deep and life goes on. Many times has happened. The worst is when you have a few years and we have enough mileage to know certain truths of all truths.

"We live in a melodrama in the best type of Libertad Lamarque or any escape from the forties heroin Mexican cinema." I said Migdalia, premiering role, divorcing his "love for life" , smoking a cigarette, like Maria Felix, choking and they tears, tears, scribbling on her makeup. "Life makes us a bolero sung out of tune and wrong."

And there we are, completing the records that we lack in our particular jukebox. Filling our experiences the lyrics sung by others, sighing sighs provided.

The first time I became aware of something called bolero, was listening to Chucho Avellanet singing songs of Maria Grever, "So ... well ... always, always love you ... well ... " stabbing, in cold blood, many teenagers, and not so young, you will traverse the path. They ran fast the last sixty-lo the former is not metaphor-and I listened to Nilda, daughter of my grandmother's neighbor, "The Philosopher", destroy all the musical notes. She was the killer lyrics Felipe Pirela, Leo Dan, Roberto Carlos, Piero, Leonardo Favio, Marco Antonio Muñiz, Enrique Guzman, Los Cinco Latinos, Palito Ortega, Cesar Acosta, Rocio Durcal, before Juan Gabriel, Armando Manzanero, Sandro, Elio Rocca, Nicola Di Bari and even my grandfather, patience has a limit, almost took away the cup, when he sang "Faced with a glass of wine Luisito Rey.

Well, something I thank Nilda "the tune", knowing that when you have some gifts, it is preferable not to sing ...

And so on, for my life, appearing singers, songs, ballads to come when you least expect it. Songs that are direct entries to the nostalgia. We take that smile, that look and we were looking away, wordless.

The songs got worse with the gringo, Italian, and the boldest, French-the French May 68 also brought his own, Charles Aznavour singing in English was not free -. Was to see my aunts, and her friends, like fish out of water, for decorating the corners of my early childhood.

Sometimes when we least expect it, a song brings a long history, which, as we thought it was forgotten completely dead and buried forever. But no, there is, taking us out the tongue, making fun of us and life goes on.

Or worse. Suddenly give us a song and tell us without anesthesia: "I heard something and thought of you."

time ago, a past came back and gave me not one but two songs, you want chocolate, then there you go two cups, reheat and superespeso-and future, never met , were present.

And there I was, thinking that if it happened that, there would have been that. Any, are many, but they were not, they are not and never will be. This post he had expected a year ago, his real title was "Lyrics life fuck you" , but after maturing the idea, nothing in the world can fuck your life if you do not give him power. In addition, music has always accompanied me, and I follow, giving me wonderful moments, intense moments, just moments of mine, that gift moments, moments that I enjoy.

For example: A week ago I woke up remembering Nilda and done, God knows why, singing a song by Claudia de Colombia while I brushed my teeth and laughed, for God to You not know how much I laughed at the situation unusual. The toothpaste and "You make me miss" not stick, simply will not or glue. My beloved Empress China, when you discuss it, dying of laughter, he said, "It's not that you have a direct connection to radio Caracol

In short I am musical. Music filthy, but do not worry I'm not overwhelmed with the list of my songs, my singers, my themes ...

gift Only one of them songs that gave me and draw their own conclusions.

All the best for you.

PS: Give me a song and tell me why. By the way, I'll be at CCS on 17 May.

Note: Leda Thanks for that instant, the Caracas night looked perfect in the rain, back in the eighties, while Jordan was singing its source, Montaner presented at the Teresa, we played live and dreamed of as future. You're part of my story, thanks for your two cups.