a transition period. all my foreign friends have left, my two best friends leaving in the last 2 weeks, tami then, felix now, today. My best chilean friend moved to another city last month. Lucky died this week. Last night I dreamed that the pope was brutally assassinated, decapitated.

it's all chilean from here on out. but i now have a group of chilean friends in the U.

taking french classes which are very entertaining. teaching english by copying my french teacher. spontaneous and fun. there was no electricity so we did the lesson by the light of two cell phones.

a question. when was the first time you had a history class that reached the 20th century? they ought to reconsider the chronological priorities of the state curriculum. or is the priority fulfilled already? i find it hard to believe that's an accident.

what if you go back and the past closes itself off like a sphincter after a swallow? and the present swallows you like a minnow whale yesterday becomes never back then and with a goldish tint like a circus night and christmas lights the big ones size C-9 but they don't make them anymore but you might find them in an antique shop but there not more than a curiosity you plug it in and it reminds you reminds you and then you go on like the photo that pricks nostalgia nostalgia but but why look at it because there's nothing you can do. your a minnow in time's river and you don't escape and history pushes you forward and swallows the minnow because the river has no good neighbor policy. should you say that it should be that way? circle fountains and they throw trash in it like disillusioned wishpennies and teredé on the bench with ice. please forgive me, thoughts for myself so i can look back afterwards and feel the past's sepia prick. pastel de jaiva in the central market cocacola tooth aches hot days cold open door nights the bus full of earphones and eyes and you're never chilean unless you're chilean the beep in the metro station beep beep of the plastic cards with money kissing the scanners hello peek hour and you pack in like peas and lastarria the jutting bricked street and tourist venders and the italian man selling real coffee and books the elevator that smells distinctly the little wire sculpture tree and circle stains from water glasses the chair that must be fixed every time sat in or the seat threatens to split the frustrating curtain rod that falls when you open them and light that's not light enough always a water glass from the sink the toilet that goes on strike the gas space heater the shower with intermittent hot water sunday meal with the grandmother the undesired sound of blue metal gate shutting in the middle of the night the keys that are the same so they are tried until they work and the dark when you enter and crash into the bench next to the door the whistling when juan enters the hello when cecilia enters the bike wheel plicking when nicol enters nothing when vivi enters and the disaster when cristian enters and makes toast and forgets them all 6 of them and puts jello in a bowl with yoghurt and sugar on top because he needs to go on crashing and he shows you all the food there is so you don't go hungry and you have to eat before you go out sundays reading the paper but working skype instant coffee and sweetener changed to mate for better the camera never used the jacket stolen the pants too small the fotocopied books ever read but its not illegal and the impossibility of doing everything the effort of making friends and feeling of stupidity in classes why do they know more about the us than i do? the us is disneyland not just a place to go and its for fantasies whats wrong here is right there and thats one day where well get to me and the country is it really like in the movies? new york or miami allende pinera pinochet bachelet spanish freeways and telephones and electricity and copper the south the farm metri and goats the light in the afternoon in the goat field and don eduardo the beard and checho. paul kalkbrenner berlin calling and the sickening clickishness of san joaquin the classrooms too hot too cold.