By Katanga Koruna blog dedicated to Lois Pereiro on the Day of Galician Letters
The last time I saw Naranjito mascot that the citric-star in the World Cup Spain 82 - was in the Minho in the last throes of summer 1989. Some friends get to spend the weekend at a family home in this seaside village, halfway between St. Paul and Ferrol. Buy a few bottles of white liquor and various soft drinks and we climbed a hill near where the village of Sada divisábamos. At first I left the hut envite that some felt terrible nausea and sudden that led me to dump stomach immediately, even before he finished half a glass tube. My friends had been so surprised at my reaction then sought a lantern that gives light and stenographers all desmadre food, so they were espabilados. Among arcades and bile only chance provided me the sight of grass vase Fanta orange that had just serve with Vodka. Fuxidía That night, at the Atlantic area which always looks to the west, shone as never before had made a round image rusty orange and orange as was the flavor of soft drink. The tin that had expired six years. The last putada pet. The order also for a whole season for me.
Three years earlier, in 1986, television was full of men enchaquetados, gestures and affected Garabatos impossible. That had to have been the Carrillo González Suárez, Fraga him when he awoke, the leader of the right, he was still there it Cabanillas, Don Pio, but the street, our street was full of joy and insumisión aesthetics. My fellow rockers, my colleagues jevirulos , my colleagues or my colleagues punkarras mods and / or neomods known well in the Old City and Port in which, especially in those days atracaba a Soviet ship loaded with eager lad change your crazy tobacco filter long wallboard in exchange for anything Western took over. The port was a good place for me. There was, in most cases, to share with friends that wine tions as cheap and stimulating, and others, unfortunately, the least to hide from with MJDF among the warehouses that were the height of Palhoça, away from all eyes that was not ours. That's when there was no money for film. I remember having bought tickets to see the worst cinema films in the world and remember to have cherished with a mixture of anxiety and fear of large breasts young MJ, but I do not remember, are the very films that were supposed to see.
arrived that same August, acudín with my sister for the first Northwest edition Pop-Rock from A Coruña, held at the Palace of Sports Riazor. We were together but not unruly, it was not appropriate to give the image of being a couple. Encantounos widow Gomes and flip with some guys who took the flag of Sweden, with the scarf who said they felt completely identified (?). Name: Swedish Method. Sure. Having passed the MSG with this aesthetic as a Nazi, resentment, Siniestro, Burning, Objective Burma (puagh) ... Mogollón one of the host to two minors without money. Madugada already, against three or four in the morning, took the stage a little kind of spindly branquecina complexion. Pereira called the radio and sang in the ocean. " Atlantic are so cold that I have in August, "he said, and began playing. The songs I liked best were "Sex Soviet - Soviet sex, quinquennial octopus - and" Narcissism, "the latter with lyrics by Lois Pereiro:
I follow in the footsteps of my blood in my body
and finger nails but firm
open a furrow red crescent
vein receiving me so blue
narcissism, narcissism, narcissism, narcissism .....
The transition was mine and Lois Pereiro was there. Happy Day of our letters, gentlemen ... Mr. Lois Pereira.
Compártelo 
