Chile From Within

El Tiburón/Roberto Bolaño

Posted in Fuck you by tomasdinges on April 26, 2007

Today I rode a micro pirata from Tobalaba to Cumming. Three people manned the helm, lit by blue neon, sweeping up disaffected workers from sidewalks and streetcorners before the infrequent, cumbersome and packed white and green buses could pass them by.

It was called El Tiburón and went to the Plaza Maipu.

It was painted all black and lacked a taillight and a bumper. The black curtains were pulled closed and flapped in the wind penetrating through windows broken by projectiles. All black. Cumbia sounded tinny from the back seats. It was exciting and felt normal. They turned it down when we stopped to pick up passengers. The air smelled different, talcum powder, cigarrettes and marijuana. I imagined the smell of the freshly showered women who just got on and sat in the front, not passing me by.

I wish there was a video game I could play based on the micros. Hurry, time is running out.

Fluorescent Modernity awaits.

Roberto Bolaño is dead and books have kinetic spirit.

2 Responses

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  1. Chileno said, on April 27, 2007 at 4:47 am

    “Por fin hizo una entrada corta weón.” I didn’t say that. Nicely done. Very evocative writing. Unfortunately, I can’t read. So I’m not very familiar with much of Bolaño’s work. What’s the connection here?

  2. tomasdinges said, on April 27, 2007 at 6:13 am

    Bolaño is cool, and I am going to New York. He writes short stories. I was reading Bolaño. Books are just books, unless you open them.

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