Nunca he sido muy buena escritora pero tengo un talento innegable para titular (i wish). He decidido dedicarme a la escritura/co-escritura profesional de títulos e indíces.
Acá mi opera prima.
MIRADA DE DOBLE FILO
por: Ana Lydia Vega
Amalia Andrade Arango
- Blues de Santa Rita de Casia. Amén
- ¿Dónde está Yesenia? Está con Waldo
- El jaleo del perreo
-¡Good-by Sodoma and Gomorra (and Lenin)!
- Felicidades Elton John, Good night Lady Gaga
-MUER-TV por SUCK-SEX-FULL
-Operación “por lo menos quiereme un poquito”
-Consejos para aspirantes a escritores de indices como yo
-Cosas de Tom Hanks
- La cumbre de la indecisión o La historia de mi vida
-Imagínese que usted tiene un hijo con Jesús
-Corruptos y perseguidos por monjas en ácido
P.D: Escribir indíces y títulos es el futuro de la escritura.
Poemas Para Pegar en la Nevera
por The Knife and Me.
Oscar Acceptance Speeches are my time travelling machine and my dreaming portable devices. Oscar acceptance speeches makes me think of La Mamma and makes me want to dream big.
La Mamma always says that dreaming is what keeps us vivos. That without dreams life loses every meaning and its not worth fighting. That without them life is just one unbearable piece of nada. So she taught me to dream, it was almost like and imposition, like a homework I had to get done and in which i couldn´t be a mediocre. Hay que soñar grande Malita, she always says.
I remember once I told her I wanted a car, a Twingo. I liked it because to me it looked like a toy car made by Fisher Price. She absolutely hated the idea, more than that, she was furious. ¿Un TWINGO? No Amalia, ¿acaso no te he enseñado a soñar grande? Piensa en un Volvo, un Mercedes, pero un Twingo jamás.
Sometimes (or most of the time) she is quite exagerada, but I know in her heart she doesn´t wants me to settle for less than the best.
In this tradition of imposed dreaming, I started young. When I was 8, I had three major dreams in no particular order and wanted them all really, really bad. The first of them all: I wanted my name to be in the index of Encarta 98 (or Encyclopedia Britannica, or any other Encylopedia as a matter of fact). I wanted to be important. I wanted to be a part of la historia. Making it to Encarta 98 was my measure for succes. It wasn´t money, nor fame, nor having your autograph asked for in the street. To me, being indexed in an Encylopedia was the biggest thing one could ever aim to.
My second dream was being a versión colombiana of Anne Frank. Anne Frank was like my biggest hero EVER. I felt like we were soul mates from a different era, like she was my sister from a different mother, a Jew-hiding-from-the-Nazis-in-the-World WarII -mother. We liked the very same things, like writing on a journal, eating strawberries jam and collecting photos of Hollywood movie stars like Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers. I thought Anne was the best writer ever and I wanted to be just like her . I even renamed my journal after her journal, Kitty, obviously. I liked to dream that one day, my house was going to turn into a museum just like hers, so I did´t let my mother rearrange ANYTHING in my room or throw away toys or other important stuff that the future visitors of The Amalia Andrade Museum would appreciate.
Also, Anne Frank wanted to be an ultra famous and gorgeous movie star in Hollywood, JUST LIKE ME. Being a movie star was my dream number three. I remember spending all ridiculous amounts of time daydreaming about being an actress. I wanted it soooo bad. Sure I liked the glam and the lifestyle but that wasn´t what attracted me the most, it wasnt the masions on Hollywood Hills or the Chanel gowns (ok, maybe I did longed for the Chanel gowns just a little). It was the idea of being REALLY good at it. I wanted to be la mejor actriz del mundo, ever.
It came easy to me because I´ve always been a Drama Queen, ever since I was born, so I thought this was a sign of natural talento. I remember spending endless amounts of hours in front of the mirror practicing my Oscar acceptance speech.
“I want´t to thank mis amigos, and my mother and my little brother Santiago, Santi: I know I like to make your life miserable but that is just a way for hermanas mayores to say I LOVE YOU. I had always dreamed of this in a tiny town in the middle of Colombia, where no one ever thought I could make it this far………”
This could go on forever. I was never out of this dream. If I was at school I was thinking on how one day they would make an E! True Hollywood Story of my life and the producers would have to come to that very same classroom to shoot my early years. When I was with my mother, doing some groceries shopping, all I could think about was: I need to be nice to this cashier lady because one day when Im famous she´s going to say she was my cashier lady and that I was always very nice. This was the same with the doorman, my teachers, and even people who were mean to me. Being a famous actress was going to be my venganza on them.
In one word I spent most of my childhood dreaming. I did my homework well. I wasn´t a mediocre and I din´t let La Mamma down.
Curiously, I still want to be an actress in some extent, i definitely think being indexed on an Encyclopedia would be sweet, and Im writing this because I obviously want to be writer just like Anne Frank.
However, whenever I feel lost or hopeless, or when I think Im the worst writer ever (which happens a lot), all I have to do is look for a really good Oscar acceptance speech, which are my-own-personal portable dreaming device that works just like a time traveling machine.
Never have I ever been a teenager in love with another woman.
I came out of the closet to a piece of paper when I was 15 and mi parte favorita is: “Well Im actually normal. Im pretty sure of it”. Im lying, I dont have a favorite part. I love it all. O.K, maybe I like the Shakira and Britney and Julia Roberts part the most.
I wrote the first spanglish Ziploc book EVER!!!
HISPANIC PANIC: My California adventure
by: Amalia Andrade (Cali, Colombia, 1987. Author of unpublished books like: Flash Fiction, One Hundred Years of Lesbian Solitude and Pride and Prejudice and Lesbian Zombies)
Chapter1: Venice Beach- Santa Monica Pier
Chapter2: Hispanic Panic
Chapter4: Christo and Jean Claude
Chapter5: Female Masculinity
Chapter6: San Francisco y Silvio, el conductor del tour bus
Chapter7: Inka miamooor
Chapter8: Paddle Paddle Paddle
Chapter9: First born unicorn, hard core, soft porn (Roadtrippin on Highway1)
Chapter10:Big Sur, you and I.
Chapter11: Matthew McConaghey´s private playa
Chapter12: The Burrito lady from Whole Foods who kept sending us mixed messages.
Chapter13: Are you a drug addict? Porque you look like one.
Chapter14: Random Strap-on Sex
Chapter16: Malita de los Nervios meets. Nervous Nelly
Chapter17: 1711 Linden Av.
Chapter18: This is my proof.
Juan Luis Guerra se inventó el amor
(07 Canciones de Juan Luis Guerra para enamorarse del aire)
01 A pedir su mano
“Voy a cortar un ramo de nubes
para mojar su querer”
02 De tu boca
“Y qué importa
si en mis sueños no te encuentro
este amor que llevo dentro
no se tiñe, no se borra”
03 Que me des tu cariño
“Muéstrale que el horizonte se vistió de azul
y se hizo cielo”
04 Si tu te vas
“Eres lo que sueño despierto,si tu te vas ya no me queda nada”
05 Como Abeja al Panal
“Yo no encuentro un corazón
que me sepa acotejar”
06 Burbujas de Amor
“Tengo un corazón
mutilado de esperanza y de razón
Tengo un corazón que madruga a donde quieras”
Lana del Rey
I still dont know what to write about. I still dont know what to write about. I still dont know what to write about. Lana del Rey, Blue Jeans y un video sobre California. Un video de Los Angeles y las ganas de estar allá que nunca se me quitan. Buscar 1612 Linden Avenue en Google Earth. Quedarme con una foto de satélite de esa casa azul rey. Lana del Rey. Una mexicana llamada Camila (Sodi) que me gusta y hace las veces de curita. Una curita emocional. Sexual Healing. Emergency heart Band-Aid. Tomar Rescate. Pienso en Camila todo el día, hace sol, estoy en calzones en mi cama, el ventilador me cae sobre la cara. Hace sol, pienso en la novia marciana de Johnny Depp. Pienso una amiga que hice por twitter. Trato de memorizar todos los arboles del Valle del Cauca: Samanes, Ceibas, Guayacanes rosados y amarillos, Chiminangos, Palos de Mango, Acacias, Gualanday, Níspero, Chirimoyo. Pienso en Camila todo el día. Ella no piensa en mi nunca. Ella no me conoce pero si me conociera pensaría secretamente que soy naca y no diría nada por ser polite. Palabras de HOY: naco, fresa, padre, chingon y otro montón de sentires pero en mexicano. I still dont know what to write about. Trato de leer. Trato de leer. Trato de leer. Me arrepiento de arrepentirme de tener tatuajes. Canto con mi Mamá. Lana del Rey.
CHAPTER 5 - Female Masculinity
We were in the car driving towards Hollywood Boulevard. I asked B. whether she thought I was femme or butch (B. is neither, she is a lipstick lesbian or so says P.)
B said - “Oh, you are definitely femme”
I said I thought I was a hard femme, soft butch. In Colombia I’m not quite a marimacho but I’m definitely not girly. In Colombia people say I walk like a lesbiana.
Off course I walk like a lesbiana, I am one.
P. told us the story about the day she was walking down the street and someone said - look, LESBIANS.
The thing is, in my country when a lesbian chooses what to wear she always asks:
“Me veo muy lesbiana con esto?”
This is because in Colombia it is O.K to be a lesbian as long as you don´t look like one.
Straight people never ask: “Do I look too straight in this outfit?”
NOTE: Actually, in Colombia is not O.K to be a lesbian, at all.
The first half is mine, only mine. There are things I want for myself and only myself. Things like hearts. Hearts never belong to just one persone alone, or maybe they do, i don´t really know. Its not up to us, we can´t really choose the heart we are given. There are hearts that love only once and forever, and hearts that love once and never forget. Hearts that love many times, once and again, hearts that are unable of loving more than twice, big hearts, lovable, caring, damaged, swollen, flamboyant hearts. However this works, the first half of her heart is mine, only mine.