stories

25
Jul

No more swearing in English?

Begoña Martínez

Somebody makes a pseudo-stupid joke at my son Quique in the street —something I’ll never understand. Pablo looks at me with his best “what the hell just happened, did you get it?” and our telepathy fails for a moment, and I have to make do with expressing my thoughts with words, and in front of

01
Feb

Am I a cat? [poem]

Begoña Martínez

A poem by Begoña Martínez. Am I a cat? / I bask in the sun, / I lay in your lap, / I find my own way, / I don’t like other cats.

17
Sep

The Editing Gaiman Dream

Begoña Martínez

We’re editing together, head to head. It’s a bio, a blurb, maybe something in between. He’s Neil Gaiman, (I know Amanda is behind me, reading something else) and he’s mumbling a bit, as he re-reads the text: words flow until they get stuck. I take it from the place he left off. —I think that what it

03
Sep

You looked good

Begoña Martínez

You were cold I blamed you You were dead I blamed me You looked mute I felt deaf I blamed her Or was I deaf? You were gone No one to blame I was alone With you still there. I went back home And you looked The other way.

11
Mar

Machete

Begoña Martínez

Translation (WIP) of the Amanda Palmer song in memory of my German mom, Benita —the Anthony Martignetti of my life. She died last year.

08
Jul

Body, remember

Begoña Martínez

My friend César sends me a chain of poems: OK. I chose one that his gorgeous wife discovered for me: Body, remember, by Kavafis. Today, with a hat-tip to Kirie Yanis Varoufakis. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fZ0kuabgIag Σώμα, θυμήσου όχι μόνο το πόσο αγαπήθηκες, όχι μονάχα τα κρεββάτια όπου πλάγιασες, αλλά κ’ εκείνες τες επιθυμίες που για σένα γυάλιζαν

03
Sep

I’m Nica: a short note from Niquinohomo, Nicaragua

Begoña Martínez

  Yesterday I visited the birthplace of Sandino in Nicaragua: Niquinohomo. Yo soy del pueblo que un niño en Niquinohomo soñó. Soy del pueblo de Sandino y Benjamín Zeledón —Yo soy de un pueblo sencillo, by Luis Enrique Mejía Godoy (see the complete lyrics and my translation below)   Benjamín Zeledón’s fortress —the political prison We