<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13680183</id><updated>2011-12-01T16:25:48.073-03:00</updated><title type='text'>just a burden in my head</title><subtitle type='html'>I don't blog, I just write. I download the burdens in my head to paper... and now also to the internet. You don't have to read what's to come; you don't want to read what's to come, but you will.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://burden-in-my-head.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13680183/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://burden-in-my-head.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>StyXman</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13786567917182476667</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>28</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13680183.post-7625984396212988259</id><published>2010-12-11T11:04:00.002-03:00</published><updated>2010-12-11T11:10:29.452-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Vete, desaparece, o déjame respirar al menos</title><summary type='text'>Arremetió contra el recuerdo de todas las formas que se le ocurrió. Intentó ahogarlo en alcohol o aturdirla con música. El alcohol le dio un poco más de resultado, pero no quería, no debía mantenerse ebrio por siempre (poder siempre se puede). La música ayudaba también, sobre todo cuando cantaba las letras como un loco mientras caminaba por las calles, o cuando podía encerrarse en la pieza que </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://burden-in-my-head.blogspot.com/feeds/7625984396212988259/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13680183&amp;postID=7625984396212988259' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13680183/posts/default/7625984396212988259'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13680183/posts/default/7625984396212988259'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://burden-in-my-head.blogspot.com/2010/12/vete-desaparece-o-dejame-respirar-al.html' title='Vete, desaparece, o déjame respirar al menos'/><author><name>StyXman</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13786567917182476667</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13680183.post-2782360780077142662</id><published>2009-12-24T21:54:00.003-03:00</published><updated>2009-12-24T22:00:01.963-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Casi fue una más en la larga lista de mujeres que dejé escapar</title><summary type='text'>Nunca sabré cómo terminé en sus brazos esa noche -ambos estábamos muy ebrios y no recordábamos nada al otro día- pero desde entonces no me dió más que alegrías: la primera vez que cogimos, cuando nos casamos, el primero de mis hijos y cuando se murió la semana pasada.</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://burden-in-my-head.blogspot.com/feeds/2782360780077142662/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13680183&amp;postID=2782360780077142662' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13680183/posts/default/2782360780077142662'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13680183/posts/default/2782360780077142662'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://burden-in-my-head.blogspot.com/2009/12/casi-fue-una-mas-en-la-larga-lista-de.html' title='Casi fue una más en la larga lista de mujeres que dejé escapar'/><author><name>StyXman</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13786567917182476667</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13680183.post-7089733651234875084</id><published>2008-11-08T12:44:00.000-02:00</published><updated>2008-11-08T12:46:21.633-02:00</updated><title type='text'>Time travel</title><summary type='text'>After going to sleep around 2000, I woke up around 0200 and couldn’t get back to sleep for a couple hours. All this time travel thing gives me the creeps, so I prefer to stay awake only for short periods of time until I get used to the new epoch. This can take a couple of weeks, specially when the jump is big, like in this case, so this period is almost useless for working. Because I'm like a </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://burden-in-my-head.blogspot.com/feeds/7089733651234875084/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13680183&amp;postID=7089733651234875084' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13680183/posts/default/7089733651234875084'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13680183/posts/default/7089733651234875084'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://burden-in-my-head.blogspot.com/2008/11/time-travel.html' title='Time travel'/><author><name>StyXman</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13786567917182476667</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13680183.post-6643997153373407118</id><published>2007-11-17T19:01:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2007-11-22T01:20:52.460-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Partido</title><summary type='text'>Salió del edificio en el que había estado trabajando por horas a la Córdoba de un sábado a las 5 de la tarde, cerca del verano. Los termómetros registraban 34°, pero se intuía mas. Debía llegar en unos minutos a otro sitio, tal vez su propia casa, a ver un partido del que sabía el resultado, pero nunca se había perdido uno y no iba a empezar justo ese día.El centro estaba recuperándose de su </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://burden-in-my-head.blogspot.com/feeds/6643997153373407118/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13680183&amp;postID=6643997153373407118' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13680183/posts/default/6643997153373407118'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13680183/posts/default/6643997153373407118'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://burden-in-my-head.blogspot.com/2007/11/sali-del-edificio-en-el-que-haba-estado.html' title='Partido'/><author><name>StyXman</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13786567917182476667</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13680183.post-2887491578608413855</id><published>2007-10-06T10:41:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2007-10-06T10:42:38.906-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Ladrones</title><summary type='text'>Noche oscura si las habrá habido, un frío de cagarse. Las pocas luces de las calles de ese barrio chato no alcanzaban a hacer un resplandor en las nubes bajas. Una tenue bruma de olor fétido típica de algunas zonas del conurbano llenaba los huecos que dejaba el frío.El pibe esperaba, pistola en mano, en una esquina, a la vuelta de la parada, 20 metros más allá. Tiritaba, y el hambre lo había </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://burden-in-my-head.blogspot.com/feeds/2887491578608413855/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13680183&amp;postID=2887491578608413855' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13680183/posts/default/2887491578608413855'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13680183/posts/default/2887491578608413855'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://burden-in-my-head.blogspot.com/2007/10/ladrones.html' title='Ladrones'/><author><name>StyXman</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13786567917182476667</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13680183.post-6594150263042673746</id><published>2007-04-22T02:25:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2007-04-22T02:31:03.645-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Grandma</title><summary type='text'>It was New Year's Eve and the house was brightly decorated with holiday trappings. The only sound that broke the quiet was the click of Grandma's knitting needles. The children, Jane, eight and Mary, five, were seated in front of a cheerily burning fire, leafing through a picture book. Tired of this, they went over to Grandma's rocker. Jane climbed up on the arm of the chair and Mary snuggled </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://burden-in-my-head.blogspot.com/feeds/6594150263042673746/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13680183&amp;postID=6594150263042673746' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13680183/posts/default/6594150263042673746'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13680183/posts/default/6594150263042673746'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://burden-in-my-head.blogspot.com/2007/04/grandma.html' title='Grandma'/><author><name>StyXman</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13786567917182476667</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13680183.post-5821776216844298376</id><published>2007-03-19T01:20:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2007-04-21T17:38:09.682-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Larga distancia</title><summary type='text'>Dios, vestido de túnica blanca y sandalias, está sentado en la punta de una mesa larga. La mesa es de caoba, de unos 8 metros de largo por 2 de ancho en las puntas y 2 y medio al medio, muy lujosa, con un pié central tallado. Alrededor de la mesa hay 9 sillones de cuero, amplios y muy cómodos. Uno de ellos tiene apoya brazos, y está puesto en uno de los extremos de la mesa. En el otro extremo no </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://burden-in-my-head.blogspot.com/feeds/5821776216844298376/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13680183&amp;postID=5821776216844298376' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13680183/posts/default/5821776216844298376'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13680183/posts/default/5821776216844298376'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://burden-in-my-head.blogspot.com/2007/03/larga-distancia.html' title='Larga distancia'/><author><name>StyXman</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13786567917182476667</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13680183.post-4877599098949648703</id><published>2007-03-12T13:44:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2007-03-12T15:29:07.078-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Refritos</title><summary type='text'>Esta sección está dedicada a republicar viejos cuentos que tengo de antes y he publicado en mi viejo sitio personal, pero que pensé en revisar un poco y republicar acá. Así que están advertidos: si creen que ya lo leyeron en otra parte, es muy probable. Y tampoco es que tenga ideas tan novedosas.</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://burden-in-my-head.blogspot.com/feeds/4877599098949648703/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13680183&amp;postID=4877599098949648703' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13680183/posts/default/4877599098949648703'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13680183/posts/default/4877599098949648703'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://burden-in-my-head.blogspot.com/2007/03/refritos.html' title='Refritos'/><author><name>StyXman</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13786567917182476667</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13680183.post-5214079841008334461</id><published>2007-03-09T23:05:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2007-04-22T02:35:09.141-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Fiebre</title><summary type='text'>Siento que la lluvia me llama, pero cuando me levanto descubro que es el arroz cocinándose a fuego lento. Ya está listo.Le bajo la fiebre al huevo duro en el chorro de agua fría de la bacha. Lo desnudo con cuidado y lo aplasto y lo parto y lo desmenuzo.No es la mejor cena que he comido, pero es un poco de comida en tantos días de sudores, delirios y toses. Mi boca no siente el gusto; será porque </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://burden-in-my-head.blogspot.com/feeds/5214079841008334461/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13680183&amp;postID=5214079841008334461' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13680183/posts/default/5214079841008334461'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13680183/posts/default/5214079841008334461'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://burden-in-my-head.blogspot.com/2007/03/fiebre.html' title='Fiebre'/><author><name>StyXman</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13786567917182476667</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13680183.post-1184402882288447993</id><published>2007-03-01T17:32:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2007-03-01T17:34:53.532-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Herrero muerto por cuchillo de palo</title><summary type='text'>Un herrero de una localidad del sur bonaerense amaneció en la zanja frente a su casa con 30 puñaladas en la espalda. A su lado, una fogata consumida. Se desconoce el paradero de la esposa, principal sospechosa.Los vecinos afirman que la relación en la pareja venía decayendo en violencia. Según testimonios de la vecina más cercana, «doña Eduviges», todo comenzó cuando él comenzó a practicar su </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://burden-in-my-head.blogspot.com/feeds/1184402882288447993/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13680183&amp;postID=1184402882288447993' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13680183/posts/default/1184402882288447993'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13680183/posts/default/1184402882288447993'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://burden-in-my-head.blogspot.com/2007/03/herrero-muerto-por-cuchillo-de-palo.html' title='Herrero muerto por cuchillo de palo'/><author><name>StyXman</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13786567917182476667</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13680183.post-116742821205952879</id><published>2006-12-29T02:35:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2007-02-10T20:23:24.540-03:00</updated><title type='text'>David y Goliath</title><summary type='text'>David se debatía en la oscuridad, presintiendo a su enemigo Goliath. Daba vueltas sobre sí mismo como adivinándolo a sus espaldas, esperando encontrarlo cara a cara y adivinar en sus ojos si viviría o no. Y Goliath se anunciaba gruñendole al oído, haciendo una finta, haciendo sentir su aliento en alguna parte del cuerpo de David, erizándole los pelos de la nuca y obligándolo a olvidar su </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://burden-in-my-head.blogspot.com/feeds/116742821205952879/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13680183&amp;postID=116742821205952879' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13680183/posts/default/116742821205952879'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13680183/posts/default/116742821205952879'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://burden-in-my-head.blogspot.com/2006/12/david-y-goliath.html' title='David y Goliath'/><author><name>StyXman</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13786567917182476667</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13680183.post-115982305035778028</id><published>2006-10-02T17:37:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2006-12-05T23:53:24.186-03:00</updated><title type='text'>A sweaty porcine old man</title><summary type='text'>A sweaty porcine old man tries to clean his face with his already damped handkerchief. The heat hit him hard, with no remorse, and he was about to pass out, when a fireman truck exploded. He was not harmed by the debris passing by at high speeds nearby him, but hundreds of litres of water from the guts of the truck fell on him, pushing him very hard against the nearby wall.He almost drowned, but </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://burden-in-my-head.blogspot.com/feeds/115982305035778028/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13680183&amp;postID=115982305035778028' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13680183/posts/default/115982305035778028'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13680183/posts/default/115982305035778028'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://burden-in-my-head.blogspot.com/2006/10/sweaty-porcine-old-man.html' title='A sweaty porcine old man'/><author><name>StyXman</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13786567917182476667</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13680183.post-115849906030585170</id><published>2006-09-17T08:45:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2006-09-19T22:04:12.446-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Quiero un hijo</title><summary type='text'>La idea de tener un hijo le surgió intempestivamente, como la mayoría de sus ideas. No fue fruto de un proceso subconsciente, ni tampoco podemos afirmar que haya estado escrito en sus genes, esperando el momento justo para aparecer. Simplemente, de todas las ideas que se le podían cruzar por el cerebro en ese momento, ésa fue la que se le cruzó, e inmediatamente supo que era lo que quería.Fue </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://burden-in-my-head.blogspot.com/feeds/115849906030585170/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13680183&amp;postID=115849906030585170' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13680183/posts/default/115849906030585170'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13680183/posts/default/115849906030585170'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://burden-in-my-head.blogspot.com/2006/09/quiero-un-hijo.html' title='Quiero un hijo'/><author><name>StyXman</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13786567917182476667</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13680183.post-115824479768920545</id><published>2006-09-14T10:36:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2006-09-16T01:53:14.456-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Juicio</title><summary type='text'>- ¿Cómo se declara el culp... el acusado?El abogado ignoró la insinuación y se levantó de su silla. A su izquierda, el acusado, con el correspondiente bozal electrónico, estaba callado e inmóvil. Del otro lado del pasillo, el fiscal esbozó una sonrisa. Mas allá, el jurado permaneció impertérrito.- Para el cargo de inactividad continua en la vía pública con agravantes -recitó el abogado-, el </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://burden-in-my-head.blogspot.com/feeds/115824479768920545/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13680183&amp;postID=115824479768920545' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13680183/posts/default/115824479768920545'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13680183/posts/default/115824479768920545'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://burden-in-my-head.blogspot.com/2006/09/juicio.html' title='Juicio'/><author><name>StyXman</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13786567917182476667</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13680183.post-115500786261607410</id><published>2006-08-08T00:24:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2006-08-08T00:31:10.643-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Avoidance</title><summary type='text'>I wish I could write everything I think of.I whish that, if I would do it, the thought would inmediately go away.If I can't have that, I wish I could stop thinking.I know I'm not the first man that has ever had this wish, and I know I'm not the fisrt man that ever suffered, but I think I have the right to wish these things.It's been a long time since I wrote for the last time, and it feels like </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://burden-in-my-head.blogspot.com/feeds/115500786261607410/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13680183&amp;postID=115500786261607410' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13680183/posts/default/115500786261607410'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13680183/posts/default/115500786261607410'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://burden-in-my-head.blogspot.com/2006/08/avoidance.html' title='Avoidance'/><author><name>StyXman</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13786567917182476667</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13680183.post-115276266530283692</id><published>2006-07-12T17:16:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2006-07-13T00:51:21.540-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Cómo matar a su jefe sin ir a la cárcel</title><summary type='text'>Las dos opciones más simples son: no trabajar para un guardiacárcel, o matarlo fuera del trabajo...Chistes malos y sutilezas del lenguaje aparte, las opciones no son sencillas.9Una es lograr que el asesinato en realidad parezca un accidente, método investigado y desarrollado por las mafias de todo el mundo. Sin embargo, y a pesar de lo que las películas muestran, un balazo en la nuca no es un </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://burden-in-my-head.blogspot.com/feeds/115276266530283692/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13680183&amp;postID=115276266530283692' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13680183/posts/default/115276266530283692'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13680183/posts/default/115276266530283692'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://burden-in-my-head.blogspot.com/2006/07/cmo-matar-su-jefe-sin-ir-la-crcel.html' title='Cómo matar a su jefe sin ir a la cárcel'/><author><name>StyXman</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13786567917182476667</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13680183.post-115284355781792757</id><published>2006-06-29T15:19:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2006-07-13T23:20:02.160-03:00</updated><title type='text'>El misterio de Inmigrandia</title><summary type='text'>Nadie ha podido aún explicar de forma convincente qué fue lo que sucedió en Inmigrandia ese fresco mediodía de un invierno sin personalidad. Los mismos habitantes del pueblo no saben explicarlo, pues para ellos nada sucedió. Pero los pueblos vecinos si pueden decir lo que vieron, y de ese testimonio surge este relato.Ese viernes, el bullicio diario del pueblo, que se podía escuchar desde lejos, </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://burden-in-my-head.blogspot.com/feeds/115284355781792757/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13680183&amp;postID=115284355781792757' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13680183/posts/default/115284355781792757'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13680183/posts/default/115284355781792757'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://burden-in-my-head.blogspot.com/2006/06/el-misterio-de-inmigrandia.html' title='El misterio de Inmigrandia'/><author><name>StyXman</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13786567917182476667</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13680183.post-113814590628184376</id><published>2006-01-24T19:13:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2006-07-13T23:22:52.966-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Ruinas</title><summary type='text'>El siguiente relato está basado en hechos reales. Cualquier semajanza con la ficción  es una clara demostración de que hay escritores sádicos.Estaba tranquilo en mi casa, tomando mate en una siesta de Diciembre, una siesta templada de otro mes. El día pintaba hermoso, un cielo prístino, casi nada de tránsito que berree encaprichado por la falta de fluidez, la tele pasando películas decentes, </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://burden-in-my-head.blogspot.com/feeds/113814590628184376/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13680183&amp;postID=113814590628184376' title='21 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13680183/posts/default/113814590628184376'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13680183/posts/default/113814590628184376'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://burden-in-my-head.blogspot.com/2006/01/ruinas.html' title='Ruinas'/><author><name>StyXman</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13786567917182476667</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>21</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13680183.post-113470802856495033</id><published>2005-12-15T22:24:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2006-01-25T01:53:15.500-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Punto de quiebre</title><summary type='text'>Estoy sentado frente a mi computadora, sudando por el calor reinante. De afuera no entra más que aire caliente, por más que son pasadas las 10 de la noche. El ventilador a 30 cm de mi cabeza sólo logra empujar un poco el aire caliente, dando una sensación de alivio. La silla en la que estoy sentado está recubierta de cuerina en el asiento y el respaldar, y donde mi cuerpo hace contacto con ella, </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://burden-in-my-head.blogspot.com/feeds/113470802856495033/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13680183&amp;postID=113470802856495033' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13680183/posts/default/113470802856495033'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13680183/posts/default/113470802856495033'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://burden-in-my-head.blogspot.com/2005/12/punto-de-quiebre.html' title='Punto de quiebre'/><author><name>StyXman</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13786567917182476667</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13680183.post-113321407459261393</id><published>2005-11-28T18:03:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2006-01-29T20:01:35.726-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Domingo</title><summary type='text'>Miro en dirección al sur, en busca de la forma familiar de un colectivo, del colectivo que estoy esperando, pero lo único que veo es una calle vacía. Es domingo, a la hora de la siesta, en pleno verano, y ni los perros callejeros se animan a caminar bajo el sol que se ensaña con esta pobre cuidad. Ocupando la mitad del cielo visible se vé el frente de tormenta. Uno ya se imagina corriendo bajo la</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://burden-in-my-head.blogspot.com/feeds/113321407459261393/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13680183&amp;postID=113321407459261393' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13680183/posts/default/113321407459261393'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13680183/posts/default/113321407459261393'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://burden-in-my-head.blogspot.com/2005/11/domingo.html' title='Domingo'/><author><name>StyXman</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13786567917182476667</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13680183.post-112866754754292804</id><published>2005-10-07T03:29:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2006-09-15T05:58:47.240-03:00</updated><title type='text'>3 favores</title><summary type='text'>Estábamos volviendo de lo de mis suegros uno de los tantos domingos que fuimos a comer un asado a su casa. La reunión estaba llegando a su fin, cuando entramos en una discusión política con el viejo, los hermanos y la hemana. Los respectivos esposos comenzaron a arriarnos en esas prolongadas retiradas estratégicas que seguían a este tipo de discusiones.En el trayecto llegamos a una de esas </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://burden-in-my-head.blogspot.com/feeds/112866754754292804/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13680183&amp;postID=112866754754292804' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13680183/posts/default/112866754754292804'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13680183/posts/default/112866754754292804'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://burden-in-my-head.blogspot.com/2005/10/3-favores.html' title='3 favores'/><author><name>StyXman</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13786567917182476667</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13680183.post-112756618050456927</id><published>2005-09-24T08:42:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2006-01-29T20:33:39.890-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Rebelión en la panza</title><summary type='text'>&lt;&lt;Trabaja&gt;&gt;Viernes, de mañana. Suena el teléfono: es mi jefe que me adelanta un deadline dos semanas, para tan pronto como sea posible; o sea, para el lunes sin falta. Los planes del fin de semana desaparecen al tiempo que cuelgo. Suspiro en vista del cambio de planes.&lt;&lt;Ocio&gt;&gt;Pongo un trabajo pesado a hacer en la computadora. Esto me da un tiempo libre, así que me siento a leer en un sillón. </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://burden-in-my-head.blogspot.com/feeds/112756618050456927/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13680183&amp;postID=112756618050456927' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13680183/posts/default/112756618050456927'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13680183/posts/default/112756618050456927'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://burden-in-my-head.blogspot.com/2005/09/rebelin-en-la-panza.html' title='Rebelión en la panza'/><author><name>StyXman</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13786567917182476667</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13680183.post-112485544818028290</id><published>2005-08-23T23:16:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2005-08-24T00:50:48.186-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Imagen de una historia corta</title><summary type='text'></summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://burden-in-my-head.blogspot.com/feeds/112485544818028290/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13680183&amp;postID=112485544818028290' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13680183/posts/default/112485544818028290'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13680183/posts/default/112485544818028290'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://burden-in-my-head.blogspot.com/2005/08/imagen-de-una-historia-corta.html' title='Imagen de una historia corta'/><author><name>StyXman</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13786567917182476667</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13680183.post-112476390754719130</id><published>2005-08-22T23:17:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2006-01-29T20:35:48.046-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Musings from a park bench</title><summary type='text'>Los gigantes, inmóviles, vigilan. Tienen múltiples ojos, pero no todos están abiertos; mientras unos están alertas, otros descansan. Están allí para asegurarse que no veas el horizonte. Estás en un espacio abierto, pero no es muy grande; ellos son el borde. Vigilan desde la distancia, siempre allí. Tus compañeros de desgracia gritan, roncan, se pelean, se aman, despreocupados de los gigantes; el </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://burden-in-my-head.blogspot.com/feeds/112476390754719130/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13680183&amp;postID=112476390754719130' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13680183/posts/default/112476390754719130'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13680183/posts/default/112476390754719130'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://burden-in-my-head.blogspot.com/2005/08/musings-from-park-bench.html' title='Musings from a park bench'/><author><name>StyXman</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13786567917182476667</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13680183.post-112420434079109179</id><published>2005-08-16T11:30:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2006-01-29T20:38:03.220-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Yo te lo tengo</title><summary type='text'>- Dale, dale, yo te lo tengo.El patovica levantó el brazo, cerró el puño y lo bajó con fuerza contra la cara del pibe que colgaba, desmayado, de los brazos del policía. Chac!- Pendejo de mierda...Rodillazo al cuerpo. Tud! Más golpes, más golpes. El pibe ni siquiera podía intentar cubrirse con los brazos. La cara le comenzó a sangrar por varios lados, y al policía le entró algo, remordimiento creo</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://burden-in-my-head.blogspot.com/feeds/112420434079109179/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13680183&amp;postID=112420434079109179' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13680183/posts/default/112420434079109179'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13680183/posts/default/112420434079109179'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://burden-in-my-head.blogspot.com/2005/08/yo-te-lo-tengo.html' title='Yo te lo tengo'/><author><name>StyXman</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13786567917182476667</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13680183.post-112389554584376147</id><published>2005-08-12T21:57:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2005-12-26T08:46:53.383-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Running</title><summary type='text'>I was barely awake this morning when I already was outside my house running behind a cab. When I finally got one, I jumped in and yelled the driver to follow some random red car I pointed with my hand, leanead back in the seat, and closed my eyes. The cab jolted into motion, slalomming, thanks to the driver's hability, very close behind the car I choose. Not that I saw the manouvers, I just felt </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://burden-in-my-head.blogspot.com/feeds/112389554584376147/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13680183&amp;postID=112389554584376147' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13680183/posts/default/112389554584376147'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13680183/posts/default/112389554584376147'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://burden-in-my-head.blogspot.com/2005/08/running.html' title='Running'/><author><name>StyXman</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13786567917182476667</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13680183.post-112389588873613498</id><published>2005-06-29T13:13:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2005-08-12T22:27:55.000-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Dumber</title><summary type='text'>I can tell. I feel dumber than before. I know something's not right. I can't understand what I read. I can't produce that clever things I always did. My brain cells are dissapearing one by one, by the millions a day. My brain shrinks back to the size of a lizzard's brain. I lack of neurotransmitters. Everything is shutting down. I can't stop it. I feel ashamed for not realizing this before. But </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://burden-in-my-head.blogspot.com/feeds/112389588873613498/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13680183&amp;postID=112389588873613498' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13680183/posts/default/112389588873613498'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13680183/posts/default/112389588873613498'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://burden-in-my-head.blogspot.com/2005/06/dumber.html' title='Dumber'/><author><name>StyXman</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13786567917182476667</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13680183.post-111879818459759841</id><published>2005-06-14T22:11:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2005-06-15T00:05:38.663-03:00</updated><title type='text'>I don't blog</title><summary type='text'>I just write. I download the burdens in my head to paper... and now also to the internet. You don't have to read what's to come, you don't want to read what's come, but you will. And that's only for simple curiosity.Curiosity killed the cat. You're not a cat (I hope) so I can say that you're safe--Only for a little while.</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://burden-in-my-head.blogspot.com/feeds/111879818459759841/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13680183&amp;postID=111879818459759841' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13680183/posts/default/111879818459759841'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13680183/posts/default/111879818459759841'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://burden-in-my-head.blogspot.com/2005/06/i-dont-blog.html' title='I don&apos;t blog'/><author><name>StyXman</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13786567917182476667</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry></feed>
