¿Cómo puta madre carajo puedo estar tan malditaseamente pendejo?

The Prisoner's Paradox Revisitedby Richard Bedient

Awaiting the dawn sat three prisoners wary
A trio of brigands named Tom, Dick, and Mary
Sunrise would signal the death knoll of two
Just one would survive, the question was who

Young Mary sat thinking and finally spoke
To the jailer she said, "You may think this a joke.
But it seems that my odds of surviving 'til tea,
Are clearly enough just out of three.

But one of my cohorts must certainly go,
Without question, that's something I already know.
Telling the name of one who is lost,
Can't possible help me. What could it cost?"

That shriveled old jailer himself was no dummy,
He thought, "But why not?" and pointed to Tommy.
"Now it's just Dick and I," Mary chortled with glee.
"One in two are my chances, and not one in three!"

Imagine the jailer's chagrin, that old elf.
She'd tricked him, or had she? Decide for yourself.

• Bedient, R. (1994). The Prisoner's Paradox Revisited. American Mathematical Monthly, 101 (3): 249.

Life

I'm alive, but life is quite different now from what it used to be. I have almost nothing: no plans, no goals, no future. All I have is this moment, here and now. That's ok.
Without noticing, life mutated from that structured-and-rigid fantasy to something narrower but by far more real: the present, and everything it involves. This second, this minute. Perhaps this day (weekends only). And that's enough.

I can't remember the last time I got this sad; I can't remember the last time I felt alive.
It doesn't matter: I'm alive now.

I. Coffee
¿Cuántas veces has visto la jacaranda? ¿La recuerdas? Apuesto a que sí: árbol tan tremendo no puede olvidarse fácilmente, y menos cuando tan pocas cosas compiten por ese lugar tan preciado en la memoria.
Nunca pensé que vería una jacaranda con una taza de café en la mano. ¿Quién piensa en eso? ¿Quién se imagina en la escena? ¿Quién planea meticulosamente hasta-el-último-acontecimiento-que-tiene-que-ocurrir para que una buena tarde la mano sostenga el café mientras los ojos ven la jacaranda?

II. Sadness
Estoy vivo y completamente convencido de que la vida es algo sumamente complejo, incomprensible y fantástico. Estoy solo y estoy triste por eso: porque este momento es simplemente demasiado bueno como para no compartirlo, para no platicarlo, para no ser leído, escuchado, entendido y disfrutado.

III. Horizon
There's no such thing as horizon, and such fact has nothing to do with the jacaranda clouding my view. 'The horizon', as well as the future, is a necessary fantasy that I need to reject if I'm to understand my life as that sequence of moments that cannot be ever completely seen; and I need to understand my life that way because it's the more accurate picture that can be observed.  It's the best approximation I will ever achieve to that thing called reality, so elusive, so pervasive.

IV. Dust
Nothing but dust, and cold. The spiral won't stop and therefore we will spin as long as we exist. And that's ok, that's the way life is. That's the way I am; that's what makes me feel sad, that's what makes me feel alive. Nothing to do, nowhere to go, nothing to worry about but the moment that goes by over and over again.

Please don't do that... please don't become one of them. Let me believe it can be different with you, that we can talk directly , that we can forget about all that between-lines shit.

...until he ran afoul of that which vexes all men.