Must write

Now I feel I must write. Don't know waht. Mabey I cnat takl bouat this cmeromcial I saw at the dpaerutre deck of Gwickta epxrsse: the lrsttee wree all miedx up, but sltil you culdo udsternda, in the same way you can understand the previous sentence... It is this night without intensity, asking so badly for something to happen. I think Einstein was the one who stated that things should not be done more complicated than what they really are... Nor simpler either. Vectors are mistreated! Misunderstood! Vectors are taken for granted, made simpler than they should... . Undervalued, underrated. That I used to say... The right to speculate. We all shall have the right to speculate and learn how to do it. Again, alas! I found something in the tube: "It is never too early to jump on conclusions"... True!... The tube, that jealous part of our lives... . Never too early to draw conclusions... True!... Still, don't feel right when I do. I guess I do it wrong. When done it right, it must feel good.... In Spain there are as many prisons as universities... 78... As many crowded prisons as universities... 78... It's been ages since the last time I followed the news in UK, London, here... From outside the country I heard Elisabeth celebrated her 60 anniversary as a Queen. Is that so? A furtive peak to tube newspapers shows St. James street all decked out, dressed up for the occasion with banners and bunting... Ok... . It is this night wanting for more, its young heart caged and consumed in lack of intensity, sweetened in the chloroform of dark, bitter ale... The voice of E. E. Cummings go... "When god lets my body be / From each brave eye shall sprout a tree / fruit that dangles thereform". I feel curious... I just feel, I am not curious. It is a blessing to be curious... . What the music shall be for my funeral? I wondered before. Gracias a la Vida. I watched Le Fate Ignoranti with Don M., a priest now over 70... How long ago? 10 years? There is this scene, the camera moving along the faces of friends gathered at the table, and the music goes on. Gracias a la Vida. Who sang it? Violeta Parra? Mercedes Sosa?  Don M. leaned to me and whispered: when I die, that is the song I want at my funeral... . "Into strenuous birds shall go / my love walking in the grass / their wings will touch with her face / and all the while shall my heart be / with the bulge and nuzzle of the sea"... .

Now, go to sleep.