fragmentos
maru delgado
Maria Esperanza, Yanahuara, Arequipa Perú, 2007
I went back to the pizza street, where we were drinking to celebrate Robert’s first poetry book. Celebrations with the poets were always something else. Alcohol, comings and goings and egos going up and down. The ceremony finished around ten pm with a lot of food and pisco sours that we made ahead of time. We were singing trova, in the middle of a quiet street, an old street. It was two am and the pisco was never ending. It was the second time I had been drinking with Barrios, the first time was at his place, I mean, his mother’s place. Barrios had been dating Maria for over four years now. I always thought he was getting to a point where women were not important but the poetry, the books and the music were. When I reached the corner where we were all sitting, I noticed he was gone and Maria was drinking alone on a corner, talking to herself. I went to try to talk to her, she blew me off.
After a while I went to check on her again, she was gone. I told Robert and I was told to leave her, probably she just went after Barrios. I found it all a bit pathetic but I was too drunk and the idea of Maria alone on the streets, made me feel a bit worried so I left after her. I went to Yanahuara and found her sleeping, sitting on the footpath across the street from Barrios’ house.
- Maria, wake up dude. Let’s take you home.
- Why doesn’t he love me? Why?
- Maria, shh, come on! Let’s go. It’s late, He’s probably sleeping now.
- No, he’s not. He saw me here a while ago and told me to fuck off. He is probably fucking someone else in there.
- What if he is? Shit Maria! Come on! I’ll fuck you if that’s what you want.
- I’m not a lesbian.
- I know that.
- Just go, leave me here. I’ll stay. I won’t go until he comes down here and talks to me.
- He won’t…
- He will, just leave me here please… please…
Jim Barrios, Graduation Carnage, August 2006
I had just finished taking the most important exam for first year Literature school. I did badly; I forgot everything I read about theory and literature movements. I knew there was no chance for me to pass this class. I felt I had betrayed myself. At the exit door I saw Robert, he was waiting for me with a huge smile. That kind of smile that gives you the impression that something was being cooked and no matter what, you would love the idea that was about to be dropped.
- What’s up? – I said
- Barrios’ defense of his thesis went brilliantly. He is now a literature major. We are heading to his mother’s place to celebrate! Let’s go!
- Nah. Don’t feel like going.
- You have to come, he already gave instructions on who must and who must not come. He wants you there. Let’s go!
We arrived at this private residence, a huge white house. He lived in a little room on the roof. It was quite a room, covered with surreal paintings and famous writers. He had a great collection of Spanish rock and tangos. Gardel’s CDs stood out immediately. The bottles of wine were in position, showing the path to follow when drinking: Peruvian wines, Chilean wines, Argentinean wines, expensive, cheap…
We drank nonstop. The music was perfect, the company was perfect and the conversation was perfect. They started smoking weed; Maria started to cry, asking Barrios to stop that behavior. He hit her. She locked herself in the bathroom for an hour. No one paid attention; not even me. The whole thing was like pulled out from an ancient story. The bohemia, the alcohol, the smoke, Gardel… We finally run out of wine, we decided to go to “la uruguaya”, a dirty bar in the center of the city where old drunks used to go for a beer. It was my first time there; the bar was small, humid, with the strong smell of cigarettes and cleaning products. I don’t remember much how we got there. We grabbed a cab and I remember people smoking pot in it. I remember going in the bar and sitting and puking. At some point I saw myself with Maria in a tiny bathroom. She had two fingers deep my throat, provoking me to vomit. When we were out of it, Barrios hit her again saying.
- I can forgive a lot of things but I won’t let my woman be a lesbian.
Jorge Prado, Anfiteatro de Ingenierías, Arequipa Perú, 2008
That was the night of Malena’s birthday. Juan, who studied the same literature courses as me was there. Drunk, passive, willing… They started to talk, Juan wasn’t really happy with the company; Jorge would take advantage of everything just to have an excuse to touch him. We were drinking rum; the poets are always drinking rum with water. From one moment to another, Juan started to yell:
- Get away from me you fucking faggot! You disgust me! I could never kiss you, NEVER!
Jorge just sat and watched him scream with a smile on his face, he knew he had succeeded. Juan left, cursing. After a while Jorge decided to go to his room. He used to live behind the U. We wanted to go with him and lie on his bed but he wouldn’t let us. He disappeared while we were discussing where to spend the night.
Heading out of the faculty, we saw Jorge and Juan. Jorge had Juan’s cock in his hands while his tongue flicked in and out of my short classmate’s mouth.
It wasn’t a surprise for any of us, maybe a little for me; I always thought Juan was what you would call a true macho.
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