Wednesday, 12 December 2012
I wrote this poem on the 726 bus from Soto del Real to Madrid while a Chinese man was looking at me because I wore my shirt button unbuttoned, and I thought that he was looking at me because I was pretty or special or sweet.
- Evening at the Pony Club I.
I felt weak because I had arrived from Kenya the day before. I still had a fever. But I remembered that my trainer said: "You can't stop. Never. Because if you stop that means that you are surrendering." Now my trainer is dead.
I fell off my horse. I felt so tired, there on the floor. My horse ran off. I had dust in my mouth, and I saw the sky, dark. - I'm in Spain- I thought- and fuck, it hurts too much. I sat up, and, recognizing my own weakness, I got on the horse again. Ridding horse is about being brave. About falling off and standing up all the time.
That night I couldn't fuck because I was sad. And fucking while I'm sad is never a good idea. Because then the sadness extends itself slowly, and spreads easily, like HIV/AIDS.
- Evening at the Pony Club II.
I had a Championship so I needed to train very hard. My clothes were so clean before I rode. I wore a cute braid. I dripped snot while I was trotting because the cold. The guy who I loved when I was 13 was there, looking at me. But I was not worried about the snot because I remembered that this poor guy had to eat something worse from me. I made it. The practice round, I mean. I had recovered my strength.
We jumped so high. My young trainer shouted: Very good, Eme, finally you came back! But my mind was still wandering. I'm not very sure around which continent. Seneca said something about traveling and riding. When I ride my horse, I feel like an heroin, beautiful, smart. But I'm just a girl sweating and trying not to use the inhaler. Thank God I don't have acne anymore.
Riding a horse its not epic when you are in a close space. It's like masturbation. It's like saying I love you by WhatsApp.