Puri is a waitress.
Rich yachts in the ria, Bit yachts near the cafeteria of the club.
Gin & tonic, Puri is working every day, and in summer every night.
Puri had a boy, Luis.
Luis died two years ago, because a very strange illness killed him.
Killed him but not to Nick's daughter, from Birmingham, UK.
Nick's come to la villa since three years old.
Mel -Melanie- her daughter, now six years old.
Puri give Perrier to Nick, Juice to Mel.
Puri remember her boy, small boy, cute boy, he will have the same age of Mel, both blue eyes, beautiful couple it will be.
Puri returns to the kitchen of the cafeteria, Puri is crying.
Outside, behind Mel and Nick, is Manolo, another man of the local mafia. As a member, in other times, of the council, he receive many presents, many mariscadas, a full of shit. Now manolo is the owner of many buildings and business. Local mafia.
Puri dry her tears with the tea towel, and go to the terrace, and give Manolo his dry Martini, and thinks about the no help from autonomic government, no help from the council.
No chances to Luis.
No way to survive being a galician woman.
Saturday, August 18, 2007
Xan carallan, British Xan
Three forty, Saturday night.
We're on Sunday, technically, at now.
Two girls from London at a narrow Galician street, Xan said, ' goodness' with a very bad speech, girls don't stop, girl's don't look Xan, girls give no any present of a word to him.
Xan , then , thinks about all, about his family, about dirty times , time ago, at suburbs at London, Father died, because cancer, because only Galicians want to work behind those material, dirty and dangerous and who knows the name of that material. Now his body lies buried in a lost corner, in a forgotten suburb near nowhere, yes, in the kingdom, UK -for sure-.
Xan.
Xan tried to recover the bit of his life at Galicia, he returned with his mother to that village, and had no opportunity, no chances to growing , to made himself a man, only the chance to survive. He was near to lose his leg, working at a building for a local cacique ( landlord ) -good jobs was only not for good workers like Xan, but for wannabe-mafia boys.
Xan carallán, he says, and many dirty words to the church, to the local mafia, to teachers, to politicians, to all the one.
Xan didn't turn his head to see the girls, Xan go on, Xan return home, tomorrow is Sunday , tomorrow another -more dirty words. Fucking, what the hell- Sunday.
Another working-Sunday, you can't work, oh God save me, oh Jesus please pardons my sins, oh priest and sacred heart, save me , but what a hell no money , then Xan, -who's the real carallán?, WHAT THE HELL ARE THE PRIEST AND THE SONS OF THE MAYOR, THE TEACHER WHO HURTED HIM, WHAT THE HELL???, Xan is shouting, a cat jump over the wet stone wall, with a 'tourist: Galicia is not Spain' graffiti- Xan return home, thinks about the girls, no time for a girl, no time for nothing, his old friends,-what a hell- no notice about him, everybody at the university, all the ones cry-cry boys, fathergivememoney to study, fathergivememoney for drugs, fathergivememoney for the yacht.
Xan's shoes, dirty shoes, broken shoes, shoes like a joke of real shoes, and no money to wear decent clothing, and what the hell, Xan, great Xan don't speak English -he was four when he returned Galicia- , only a bad wannabe Castillian-castrapo, and Galician language all the time. He wish speak other languages, see new faces, have other chances.
But other Galician boy. Nothing more.
And nothing less.
We're on Sunday, technically, at now.
Two girls from London at a narrow Galician street, Xan said, ' goodness' with a very bad speech, girls don't stop, girl's don't look Xan, girls give no any present of a word to him.
Xan , then , thinks about all, about his family, about dirty times , time ago, at suburbs at London, Father died, because cancer, because only Galicians want to work behind those material, dirty and dangerous and who knows the name of that material. Now his body lies buried in a lost corner, in a forgotten suburb near nowhere, yes, in the kingdom, UK -for sure-.
Xan.
Xan tried to recover the bit of his life at Galicia, he returned with his mother to that village, and had no opportunity, no chances to growing , to made himself a man, only the chance to survive. He was near to lose his leg, working at a building for a local cacique ( landlord ) -good jobs was only not for good workers like Xan, but for wannabe-mafia boys.
Xan carallán, he says, and many dirty words to the church, to the local mafia, to teachers, to politicians, to all the one.
Xan didn't turn his head to see the girls, Xan go on, Xan return home, tomorrow is Sunday , tomorrow another -more dirty words. Fucking, what the hell- Sunday.
Another working-Sunday, you can't work, oh God save me, oh Jesus please pardons my sins, oh priest and sacred heart, save me , but what a hell no money , then Xan, -who's the real carallán?, WHAT THE HELL ARE THE PRIEST AND THE SONS OF THE MAYOR, THE TEACHER WHO HURTED HIM, WHAT THE HELL???, Xan is shouting, a cat jump over the wet stone wall, with a 'tourist: Galicia is not Spain' graffiti- Xan return home, thinks about the girls, no time for a girl, no time for nothing, his old friends,-what a hell- no notice about him, everybody at the university, all the ones cry-cry boys, fathergivememoney to study, fathergivememoney for drugs, fathergivememoney for the yacht.
Xan's shoes, dirty shoes, broken shoes, shoes like a joke of real shoes, and no money to wear decent clothing, and what the hell, Xan, great Xan don't speak English -he was four when he returned Galicia- , only a bad wannabe Castillian-castrapo, and Galician language all the time. He wish speak other languages, see new faces, have other chances.
But other Galician boy. Nothing more.
And nothing less.
La Villa
La villa, cute village, in other times, now party for drugs, party on yachts.
Danny boy, my Danny boy, wanted to go to the university, no money, no chances.
No jobs in the pub, that pub only to wash- not even that-.
Today arrive a new bag to the beach.
Cocaine.
Black & white beaches for black & white photos.
Black for the fuel, white for the cocaine.
But nobody says anything, police don't talk about that only about their salary, politicians only talk about their money, church only shout about sins.
You know, it's life, but keep away of my daughter that Danny boy, keep away of my business that Danny Boy, but is no problem if Danny boy tomorrow have an accident in the work
Danny boy, my Danny boy, wanted to go to the university, no money, no chances.
No jobs in the pub, that pub only to wash- not even that-.
Today arrive a new bag to the beach.
Cocaine.
Black & white beaches for black & white photos.
Black for the fuel, white for the cocaine.
But nobody says anything, police don't talk about that only about their salary, politicians only talk about their money, church only shout about sins.
You know, it's life, but keep away of my daughter that Danny boy, keep away of my business that Danny Boy, but is no problem if Danny boy tomorrow have an accident in the work
savage Galician: Wildliza is on war
Today is Monday, Wildliza is on war.
There are many empty houses, many empty flats at La Villa, but you can't go inside, forbidden action, it will be.
They, young people, and many young people are looking for be working, but who finds a job, and you can't begin from zero, alone, many taxes.
They can't aim for any European help, when helps are only for the ones who have anything.
They can't occupy a house, because then they will be a savage Galician.
You can't work for yourself without papers -even poor people-, because then your a savage -sons of rich-men don't need to do this, daddy pays taxes-.
But young Galicians can go to a construction, and work inside without papers for the local mafia. This is legal and society will say 'what a normal thing'.
You can't teach without a degree, but is legal than a teacher works and maybe this teacher have no idea about how to teach. Difference is that the family of this teacher have the chances that others don't have and sure that will never had, because savage Galician had no rights, and it says that you need to work, but you can't.
You're only a savage.
Empty summer houses to the major, empty summer houses to the university teacher, empty houses to the guys selling drugs at night and beds at the morning.
Today is Friday, Wildliza is on war.
Next day everybody to the new supermarket -where was the old shops- , and vodka, and whiskey, and wine, San Damian wine, or whatever is good to win the war, boyos, let's shout at night, and get drunk and have ***, and nihilism, and what a hell, and hit the garbage, and shout, and drink, and shout more, and drink, and drink and spend the money that you don't have in the vodka, yap, boyos owners of the pub at the night, at the day selling white fariña, al LAALALLALAL HAYLALEEEEELOOO FARIÑAAAAA SHOUT SHOUT LET'S SHOOOOUTTTTT
Today is Saturday.
Wildliza, is on war.
There are many empty houses, many empty flats at La Villa, but you can't go inside, forbidden action, it will be.
They, young people, and many young people are looking for be working, but who finds a job, and you can't begin from zero, alone, many taxes.
They can't aim for any European help, when helps are only for the ones who have anything.
They can't occupy a house, because then they will be a savage Galician.
You can't work for yourself without papers -even poor people-, because then your a savage -sons of rich-men don't need to do this, daddy pays taxes-.
But young Galicians can go to a construction, and work inside without papers for the local mafia. This is legal and society will say 'what a normal thing'.
You can't teach without a degree, but is legal than a teacher works and maybe this teacher have no idea about how to teach. Difference is that the family of this teacher have the chances that others don't have and sure that will never had, because savage Galician had no rights, and it says that you need to work, but you can't.
You're only a savage.
Empty summer houses to the major, empty summer houses to the university teacher, empty houses to the guys selling drugs at night and beds at the morning.
Today is Friday, Wildliza is on war.
Next day everybody to the new supermarket -where was the old shops- , and vodka, and whiskey, and wine, San Damian wine, or whatever is good to win the war, boyos, let's shout at night, and get drunk and have ***, and nihilism, and what a hell, and hit the garbage, and shout, and drink, and shout more, and drink, and drink and spend the money that you don't have in the vodka, yap, boyos owners of the pub at the night, at the day selling white fariña, al LAALALLALAL HAYLALEEEEELOOO FARIÑAAAAA SHOUT SHOUT LET'S SHOOOOUTTTTT
Today is Saturday.
Wildliza, is on war.
living in an eucaliptian era
Right.
We are not living in an aquarian era, we're living at a eucaliptian era.
Cocacola co. , with many pub about their sports drinking, talking about marketing, this and that.
Not in Galicia, nor at our forest.
Galician forest , are full of eucalyptus.
At the basque country you don't find it, at Ireland not, but...Galicia is living in an eucaliptian era.
what about the reasons?
A typical answer, 'money'.
But Galicia is poor , more poor that when you're thinking about big roads cutting old mountains.
No education, no internet for many galicians, but galician forest are full of eucaliptian.
No factories to process do paper. All is for outside, and at the same time, when from Galicia people need paper, they need to look for it outside, at Italy, at other places where probably are using Galician eucalyptus.
We are not living in an aquarian era, we're living at a eucaliptian era.
Cocacola co. , with many pub about their sports drinking, talking about marketing, this and that.
Not in Galicia, nor at our forest.
Galician forest , are full of eucalyptus.
At the basque country you don't find it, at Ireland not, but...Galicia is living in an eucaliptian era.
what about the reasons?
A typical answer, 'money'.
But Galicia is poor , more poor that when you're thinking about big roads cutting old mountains.
No education, no internet for many galicians, but galician forest are full of eucaliptian.
No factories to process do paper. All is for outside, and at the same time, when from Galicia people need paper, they need to look for it outside, at Italy, at other places where probably are using Galician eucalyptus.
Paco
Paco
Paco is the big chiken
Paco have an Audi, and he have no problems of money.
He have the half of the village.
Paco is the son of his father.
His father the son of Paco's grandpa.
Paco is the big chiken
Paco have an Audi, and he have no problems of money.
He have the half of the village.
Paco is the son of his father.
His father the son of Paco's grandpa.
who remember us? nobody
who remember us? nobody
Who remember us now? Who remember us now?
i understand daddy, but now,
who understand us?
nobody
more than that
fuking nobody
Fontvella with a little touch of lemon juice, like in UK
I remember daddy, who remember us?
Nobody
Fucking nobody
I remember, he was polite , i was polite, everybody was polite
who remember daddy
No one
Who remember us now? Who remember us now?
i understand daddy, but now,
who understand us?
nobody
more than that
fuking nobody
Fontvella with a little touch of lemon juice, like in UK
I remember daddy, who remember us?
Nobody
Fucking nobody
I remember, he was polite , i was polite, everybody was polite
who remember daddy
No one
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