For Listastófan — Stranger than Fiction #1 (January/February 2016)

In memoriam: “I’ve got you under my skin”, grandpa Albert Ventura Milá.

[About a collaborative project on poetry and encyclopedic knowledge that is still lost in the web… But mainly, it’s lost in translation]


The encyclopedic collection that follows, which was a project that, perhaps in a raw way, wanted to organize some of the cosmovision of the members of “El Gineceo de Letras”, back then in 2006 or 2007 (this group was a group of roughly educated young girls that were seeking for nothing more than their own room, their operation base, their own Hall of Poetic Justice….).

Ginepedia was a “noble” project, a kind of lovely “chiruza” [chiruza is lunfardo to refer to an un-educated woman]. Or as Wikipedia says, that other encyclopedia, “[it] gathers and disseminates specialized data that is scattered “all over the place or that other that could not be found easily but that has an important service to the modern culture” [note: my own translation], the goal was to “systematize” ginepedic impressions… illuminating the grammatical gender chaos of experience, writing a testimonial universalist claim in which we wanted to transform our vision into knowledge and, therefore, to make it available to be shared, reported to others… because we thought it would be beneficial for those who want to understand what the fuck is “life itself” [español: “la vida misma”].

Beware!! Ginepedia is not a “soup opera”, it is a “performative” encyclopedia.


Gringo (Etim.: [very] disc. or from the English “green go home!”)
*Icelandic pronunciation: [‘gringo]

1. n. m. (latín for “nombre masculino”)
It’s not clear enough… we might be talking about just any foreigner [bara yanqui] or any type of foreigner. But “the believers” think that if you are not tall and blond and/or [og/en…] speak foreign [útlandi] languages that descend from high germanic [Old Norse, maybe… veit ekki…], “you” don’t “apply” to this category [“categoría” á spænsku].
The question has been asked many times… “what’s the deal with Americans” [bara maður, ekki konur]? And so some conclusions have been drawn (“dibujadas” á spænsku): there are Gringofilas (from the Ancient greek: filos: Love) and Grigofobas (from the Ancient greek: fobos: Hate). And there are also neutral parties, like Switzerland. There’s everything…
Gringofilas are less “so” than they appear, because surely if a Latin guy with a Caribbean accent “gets himself planted in front of them” (ENG precise: “appears”) they are immediately convinced to go and “militar el cachengue” (literally: “be a soldier to the party task”), which is such a typical tradition of those who were born in the coast areas or those who want to take part in that tradition always, no matter what.
The other ones claim they are Grigófobas because “zarpullidos” [Notkún:: skinn disseases] and allergies appear if a gringo gets too close. The official reports, however, say that so far this has not been proven to have ever happened. And Gringófilas and neutral girls insist that those how say they are grigófobas should give the [bara næs] Gringos another chance…


*icelandic pronunciation: [‘takos]

1. n. m. {not so much, though} pl.
The row in primary school can sometimes be a bit trick. The little “taco-carrier” (ENG precise: the one that wears high heels) ginecea quickly learned it. She was halfway thru middle school, when suddenly, and although it was no longer mandatory to start the day of school in a row [NT: in Argentina, before lessons start every morning, the children in primary school have to say “hello” to the national flag], she realized that there had been always “pibitos” [bara strákar] up ahead but now the same boys were at least a head taller than her.
Fifteen birthday parties [also traditional for Argentina and some other latinoamerican countries] left her the imprensión that when one has to “military cachengue” (see “militar el cachengue” entrada), nylon stockings usually break when they get in contact with the floor, and everything that was on the tables is now spread over “la pacha mama” (NT: mother earth). And good nylon stockings are very expensive, ladies…
At first she did not care and continued in “alpargatas” [NT: you know… this summer wear foot we use down south]: ground floor, bara comfortable. But when ginecea left school and entered the labor market, she realized how difficult it is to find shoes that allows us [¿girls?] to be downstairs and fashionable (as in shoes that go well with certain “labour” outfits).
And she learned, more importantly (yes, more and more!!), that her high heels could make people not realize she has such short [just piernas cortitas for the friends] legs, and such short size [bara cortita para la familia]. And she smiled the first time she heard the comment “but you’re not [bajita] short” (because real “taco carriers” are almost always about 8 centimeters above their own height).
Then, the ginecea taco carrier, resigned and started to be friends again with “the upstairs” [LIT: the upper-floors]. She is now friends with high heels so much that it does not matter if her favorite mean of transport is the bicycle because, although she is not Dutch [she hates Ámsterdam and its bikes], she can combine glamor and pedaling without difficulty; it does not matter if the plan for Saturday is a day of “miniturismo” in the muddy Delta of Tigre [cfr. bara go home from the school cellar í RKV], because she keeps for herself an ace under her sleeve: platforms that isolate her feet from the most difficult clay [usually red and thick] or just a pair of rubber boots … even if nobody believes that to be true when they see her running late to a teacher’s meeting, and accuse her of trying to be flirty and too “minita” (see minita entrance), it doesn’t matter to her. And the beach (walking on sand, that would be) is no problem since the ginecea found platform rubber sandals that considerably enhance her size.
The tacos (this is hard to explain) allow us to carry all day that slight feeling of triumph that one feels, for example, when standing up on a chair. As a Gothic Cathedral, she rises to be farther away from the earth, which is humble and mundane, and closer to the sky, the sun, the pterodactyls (see Dinosaur entrance) and, the most important of all: God.

[1046 words — work in progress]

Reykiavik, Iceland - January-April, 2016

Last edition: 18th of April, 2016 [when my grandfather would have been 80 years old].

Published for Medium Coorps on the 19th of April, 2016

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