Update
Comenzé un curso previo de matemáticas en la UBA, previo al CBC, que tiene como intención explicar las cosas que deberían estar aprendidas para el inicio de la cursada. Ah ¿no les dije? Tengo pensado ir a la UBA para hacer mi carrera. Que cool, ¿no?
En ese curso hay de todo tipo de personas, el que hace todo sin molestar a nadie solito en el rincón(yo), gente que habla y discute los problemas, o no. Gente que se conoce de antes y anda siempre juntos. Y el clásico “No entiendo un joraca”, pero se excusa porque hace mucho que dejaron la escuela secundaria, pero se metieron de una a cursar el CBC.
Adoro Ciudad Universitaria, pero es el reeeeee viaje, y me harta. Las cosas que se hacen por amor, ¿no?
A ver si este post si aparece en Feisbuc.
Ana NG
Make a hole with a gun perpendicular
To the name of this town in a desk-top globe
Exit wound in a foreign nation
Showing the home of the one this was written for
My apartment looks upside down from there
Water spirals the wrong way out the sink
And her voice is a backwards record
It’s like a whirlpool and it never ends
Ana Ng and I are getting old
And we still haven’t walked in the glow of each other’s majestic presence
Listen Ana hear my words
They’re the ones you would think I would say if there was a me for you
All alone at the ‘64 World’s Fair
Eighty dolls yelling “Small girl after all”
Who was at the Dupont Pavilion?
Why was the bench still warm? Who had been there?
Or the time when the storm tangled up the wire
To the horn on the pole at the bus depot
And in the back of the edge of hearing
These are the words the voice was repeating:
Ana Ng and I are getting old
And we still haven’t walked in the glow of each other’s majestic presence
Listen Ana hear my words
They’re the ones you would think I would say if there was a me for you
When I was driving once I saw this painted on a bridge:
“I don’t want the world, I just want your half”
They don’t need me here, and I know you’re there (don’t need me)
Where the world goes by like the humid air (world goes by)
And it sticks like a broken record
Everything sticks like a broken record
Everything sticks until it goes away (it goes home)
And the truth is, we don’t know anything (don’t know)
Ana Ng and I are getting old
And we still haven’t walked in the glow of each other’s majestic presence
Listen Ana hear my words
They’re the ones you would think I would say if there was a me for you
Ana Ng and I are getting old
And we still haven’t walked in the glow of each other’s majestic presence
Listen Ana hear my words
They’re the ones you would think I would say if there was a me for you
Ana Ng and I are getting old
And we still haven’t walked in the glow of each other’s majestic presence
Listen Ana hear my words
They’re the ones you would think I would say if there was a me for you.
They Might Be Giants
P.D: Esto fue una prueba de post 
