usually i refuse going to madrid. not so much because of the classic barcelona-madrid feud. i really don't give a shit about which is the true top city in spain. or if cataluña is really spain. not even because i really really love barcelona and i can't get away from it. its just i have to negate madrid because my boyfriend has a fixation with it. he lived there. he idolizes it and idealizes it. he says madrid is as beautiful as paris. and his ex's are all in madrid, all his leftovers from when he was young and tight and much more active sexually (probably all over). so madrid makes me uncomfortable not only because of its overwhelmingly catholic and institutional and dominant middle-class ambience, but more because of its tight-jeaned, tight-ass, thick-eyebrowed, hypermodern haircut, grungy fags. or the police who wear tights for a uniform in the winter.
still, i feel, this year i'll have to make a sacrifice. there's a gordon matta-clark exhibit at the reina sofía. so i guess i'll just have to suck up my jalousie, as a tiny personal ode to the one and only true anarchitect, and go.