Cereal Review #1 (Nesquik Caramelo)

Shit this cereal is good. 

It’s so good. 

Often, people stop me in the street and ask me “Nikolas, what is your favorite cereal?” And after I’ve stared them down enough to know they’re harmless, I tell them “Captain Crunch”. 

That has nothing to do with this particular review, but is still an amusing anecdote. 

So where to start? Perhaps it would be best to set our time machines to yesterday when I went to the supermarket looking for cereal, but made a life-long friendship. I was just coming out of the grief Zucaritas Power Balls caused me. Pending review, of course, but suffice it to say it was a stormy relationship. 

Anyway there I was, again in the cereal aisle. A parade of the old invaded my senses. There’s old chocokripsis, next to Mr. Froot Loops. They’re having a chat with their old friend Prof. Trix, about how none of them have evolved in forever. Even the usual reject, Dr. Corn Pops, was having a word in edgewise. 

Something was different today, though. There was something strange in the air. So, following my nose and keen sense of direction, I left the cereal aisle. I quickly remembered I was supposed to buy a cereal so I returned after buying a couple of conchas from the bakery. And when I returned, filled with life, I came across this fucking guy. 

 

Let me tell you about this asshole right here. First, it smells just like fucking normal Nesquik. It leads you on a mysterious path of blindness like Daredevil with his prey. So you put it in a bowl and get some milk in there. The usual stuff.  Everything normal so far. 

I must admit that the only reason I opened the box is because I had to munch on something and I was already two feet out the door when I remembered this guy and realized I didn’t have to go anywhere after all. I had cereal. Easy.

However, I was not prepared for the serving of kickass this cereal was ready to unleash inside my mouth. Nothing could have prepared me. The chocolatey taste mixed in with the smooth caramel rolls off your tongue like the flames of a thousand kingdoms heating the pot in which little angels mix and beautify mankind’s dreams. There’s a subtle touch of saltiness at the back of your tongue that ties it all up, and declares itself your toy to do as you wish. It’s almost sexual. 

Oh but the milk. I have heard of mystical fountains that ancient warriors would drink from and obtain eternal life. It is said that this is the sweetest of liquids, and that a single drop is itself more exquisite than the finest wine. However, after tasting the milk leftover from Nesquik Caramelo, I know now how that legendary (legend-dairy?) drink must taste like. It tastes like win. 

Pure.

Unadulterated. 

Win. 

If you would like Nikolas Murdock to review your favorite cereal, please leave a comment below or contact the him at nikolasmurdock@gmail.com. Thank you for reading. 

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Pieces of girls #2 (Hey I wrote another one but right after the first one because I never keep doing stuff for a long time and my friends know this)

She was wearing a flower dress but what else is new besides I seem to only write about girls in flower dresses it’s like dress racism. Tank tops are also nice but I guess that’s old school and what I mean is I think that’s what I used to really like and my priorities have changed and when you have priorities about dresses something must surely be wrong with you as there is with me. Not just something but a bunch of things I assume.

Anyway I had seen her before but done this thing where I try to decide whether she’s cute or not and cute is a coward word because it has no real equivalence in the spectrum of beauty like does it qualify as something between average and beautiful or is it just used when you don’t want to use the word you actually want to use and we should use always the words we want to use. Adverbs in this sense have recently become a way to cancel what you’re saying like saying probably after you said something just to make sure people don’t count on the fact that you know what you’re talking about because you don’t. No one does.

They take selfies and dress nicely and are of the opinion that the project that they’re making is going to change the world when most of us are just acting like it. Then she walked on stage and it’s like her dress is not even touching her body like it’s levitating at the exact same speed she’s walking she’s pushing it with her thoughts or gravitation or magnetic forces that attract and repel at exactly the same time and it cancels out yo. It straight up cancels out.

Some girls do this thing she does and that is that they turn their head and their hair flies with it and in one slight instant every hair seems to be orbiting her and it’s like she’s a universal object living in a world with no rules and then like everything it stops. Some of us just have to deal with the fact that we fall in love with everyone all the time and after a while we just explain it like we never love anything. I remember when I used that word seriously saying I love you with a straight face because we hadn’t told ourselves that that wasn’t it. Not exactly anyway.

And once she told me not the flower dress girl but someone else said that that isn’t it. It’s infatuation and I looked it up and it sure as hell seemed like that’s what it was it so I just say I’m infatuated with everything. There’s this weird feeling I get when I’m looking at the floor or at the hairs on my arm and I wonder if anything really means anything but I can’t perpetually believe nothing means anything because it would just be like I went back to being five when everything was playgrounds and falling and little rocks on your knees and earthquakes and dinosaurs were god. Power rangers were possible because of course I could build a Megazord with enough knowledge of engineering and whole lot of metal and maybe a couple hundred workers under my command but that’s not the way I put it I just said I could totally build a Megazord.

Her face reminds me of pokemon for some strange reason like it’s the face of a two-dimensional anime girl like the kind I liked when I was ten when I discovered Sakura Card Captors. And she was ten like me I think I don’t really remember but back then everyone I knew on the television was either my age or close to it so I felt like I was living in the same world where beasts existed and magic was just some thing you stumbled into when you visited your grandfather. It was in really old books and you didn’t even have to read them you just opened them and pop now you can do magic and command electricity and unless you close your eyes your laser stare will kill everyone around you or cut off that light post and is that what the things that carry electricity are called?

And I try to stay objective when people talk about making money and inventing the next big thing but underneath I think fuck no yes I want to make money but I don’t JUST want to make money and it constantly disconnects me from my teachers and the headmaster and they all just think that boy is mediocre he’ll probably never do anything meaningful with his life and that just depends on your definition of MEANINGFUL. Because in the grand scheme of things everything is meaningful just as nothing we do is meaningful at least not at this stage unless you’re a twenty four year old who has already cured cancer in his room or built a well for African people and my teachers are constantly telling me that building wells for African people is the surest way to get into heaven and mostly I just think Heaven would be boring as hell because eternity does not seem like something desirable.

Someone once told me that the reason I stutter is because my brain works faster than my mouth and they can’t keep up and I believe that sometimes I think what I want to say is going to take too long so I try to make the torture as quick as possible and I fail miserably every time and it just seems like someone is really bad at scratching records and is completely out of tempo like that movie about the drummer and the bald guy who’s really angry all the time.

My first favorite movie was Toy Story and I asked my parents to take my sister and I to see it three times and I was about five but I don’t know for sure and I’m not motivated enough to google in what year Toy Story came out did it come out in ninety five? And I think she had a nice smile in the calming kind of way like when you’re in love with this girl and she doesn’t know and it’s not really love but when she smiles some organ inside you starts doing things it doesn’t usually do and you can’t pinpoint exactly what organ it is because people say it’s the stomach but when it happens I’m not conscious enough to be looking for organs inside my body thank you very much.

Pieces of random girls #1 (Don’t count on me continuing this series)

She sits in a revolving chair if that what it’s called and she spins constantly and she’s wearing a skirt and it’s like fucking witchcraft and that is one of my favorite words. Her hair is long and straight and it ends in blonde but it starts in brown or castaño which is what some people call it but I just call it brown. English is not my first language my first language is Spanish and she’s got a boyfriend for sure. She’s touchy touchy and she really wants these guys to help her study because if she doesn’t she’s screwed. Either way she’s screwed, just in a different sense of the word and her glasses provide a perfect frame for her eyes so we can see exactly where they begin and where they end. She’s not that good at smiling if perfect smiles are what you’re interested in.

And hey I just found out Kendrick Lamar isn’t really my kind of thing I’m more of an Earl Sweatshirt kind of guy to be completely honest. Tyler, The Creator is my Jam. Lamar is still pretty good.

Anyway she smokes and drinks but never beer thank you very much and you can touch her if you’re hot cause if you’re not she’ll notice for sure she’s got an eye for these kinds of things. She walks with her back perpendicular to the ground and her breasts sure do appreciate that. Her earrings are huge like her mother’s and they make her feel like she’s carrying all the weight on her ears and that makes her feel powerful and that’s the way she wants to feel. Lifting things makes people feel strong. It’s an instinct thing I assume.

And it’s one of those things where I’m just coloring inside the lines that her movements and her clothes provide and if you have read what I write you know movement fucking matters and it’s pretty much all I know about her because I haven’t even heard her speak but I don’t need to because it will never happen. Anyway she’s got this kind of dumb look in her eyes like she doesn’t read much else than the bible and the birth control leaflets. And she keeps spinning and spinning and spinning and every once in a while we make eye contact and it’s awkward forever for like half a second and then we’re back to normal.

Nothing going on here.

Everything’s ok.

I hadn’t updated in a while because the internet told me not to.

In a list of things that keep you from being actually productive as a writer.

It was item #3.

Blogging.

Which is weird because plenty of people do blogging. Serious writers do blogging. Blog. That’s the verb I should use. Plenty of writers blog.

My last weeks have been pretty cool creatively, but not so much productively. I have many ideas for things that I usually end up not doing. Anyway, I thought I’d leave some of the things I’m working on so you are up.to.date.

  • Resilience (The second album by Nikolas Murdock)
    • So far Resilience’s got several things going for it, including a cover photo and a semi-finished tracklist which looks like so:
      1. WonderWhy
      2. Friendly Ghosts
      3. VCR
      4. Slow Jams
      5. Kidney Stone Pt. 1 (The honeymoon phase)
      6. Kidney Stone Pt. 2  (The falling out)
      7. Dark Glasses
      8. Be On It
      9. Going Home
      10. Gold Is Only Valuable Because It’s Useless
      11. Resilience
    • Each song is taking a lot of work to set up since each one is like ten layers thick and stuff. Anyway.
  • A Brief History Of The Atomic Bomb
    • I’m writing a novel and this is what it’s called. So far it’s like twenty chapters(I think) and 35 pages long.
    • There’s eight characters so far and like five that I’m setting up but still haven’t gotten around to introducing.
    • Writing a novel is fucking exhausting really.
  • #CowNeighbors
    • They are doing quite alright.
  • WhiteCardPoetry
    • I’m trying to evolve this very tiny project into something else involving six word stories. It’s slightly more difficult, but also a lot more rewarding, somehow.

So there we go. In case you were wondering. There we go.

Have a great week everybody!

Everybody wants to save Mexico

Apparently. 

Yesterday, someone smashed one of the windows of my car. The third one on the driver’s side. It’s a small window, and you can’t roll it down. Nothing was stolen because there was nothing in my car except seats and my swimming trunks. I take swimming trunks everywhere now. 

My friend Gabi noticed at 2:45 AM, when we were leaving the bar we had been in for a while. She was on the passenger seat. We had just dropped off another friend, Rich. He didn’t notice, or he didn’t say anything. Gabi turned around as we were talking and she said “Creo que te dieron un cristalazo”, which is Spanish for “I think someone smashed your window”. I couldn’t see that particular window from the driver’s seat. It’s tiny and hidden behind other windows. 

Gabi said it seemed like it had been an accident. No one would break THAT window intentionally. They hadn’t even tried to get in. What was their plan? My friend Ivan put his arm through the window and tried to open the door and couldn’t. Nothing else had been taken or destroyed. 

We joked about someone leaving a post-it note. 

Hey.
Due to circumstances beyond my control, my attempt at robbing you failed. The window I chose to break was not a particularly useful window. At least it’s cheap (I think), so you won’t have to empty your wallet (Get it?). Have a very nice rest of your life. 

-Pancho

So the next day I clean up the broken glass with Gabi’s help. She kept asking if I was upset. Of course I was, but it had happened before, so I was emotionally armed. I might have been more upset if they had taken my swimming trunks. 

My friends and I went to have breakfast, then walked for a while, then went to take their bus back home. They were visiting. I had driven them around most of the weekend, touristing around Guadalajara. Then they left. It was a nice couple of days. 

When I was driving back home, listening to the radio, I was bombarded with political party ads. If you live in Mexico or anywhere elections will be held soon, you know what I’m talking about. You know what I mean. If you don’t, here it goes. 

There are ten political parties in Mexico. Here they are in the order I found them in Wikipedia:

  • Partido Revolucionario Institucional (PRI)
  • Partido Acción Nacional (PAN)
  • Partido de la Revolución Democrática (PRD)
  • Partido Verde Ecologista de México (PVEM or Verde)
  • Partido del Trabajo (PT)
  • Movimiento Ciudadano (originally Convergencia)
  • Nueva Alianza (PANAL)
  • MORENA (Movimiento de Regeneración Nacional but some people think it’s a reference to the Guadalupe Virgin)
  • Partido Encuentro Social 
  • Partido Humanista

All of these parties get free radio time. Also, all of the ads are directed to active members of the party. They’re transmitted nationwide, but you’re not supposed to pay attention if you’re not in the party. Excuse you. 

From six to twelve AM (so eighteen hours) political parties have thirty minutes (assigned and distributed based on rules I would like to understand, but don’t) to play thirty second spots. According to Uniradio, 3.3 spots are played every hour, but that number seems a bit low for me. Maybe it changes depending on the radio station. 

I don’t know, dear reader, if you have seen Enrique Peña Nieto’s TIME cover. I hope you haven’t, because you’re in for a treat. A google image search for “Saving Mexico” is a journey into the deep ends of Mexican Internet culture. Please go do it. I’ll wait here. Text isn’t going anywhere. 

That the cover exists is amazing in itself, but so is the public response. Very few informed citizens are open about their support. It’s more of a hidden opinion. Supporting Peña Nieto is almost a guilty pleasure. In some social circles, it’s treated like a disease. But there he is, on the cover of one of the planet’s most famous magazines. 

I’m going to stop writing about our president now, because this is not really about him. I’m not that political. I’ve never really liked getting into long discussions on the past, present and future of my country. It’s the phrase “Saving Mexico” that I’m particularly interested in. 

Everyone is using it now. 

Everyone wants to save Mexico now. Almost every political spot I’ve heard in the last two months has included some reference to saving us. Even the PRI wants to save us (and they’re currently in power). The other parties work very hard to convince you that your life is shit. You got no money. Your house is worth nothing. What kind of future do you want for your children? Is this what you want for your grand kids? 

In one of the ads, my son tells me to do the right thing, and give him the government he deserves, or else he’ll do it himself. I think it’s a PT ad. He tells me we have to save Mexico. 

In another one of the ads, a deep, sad voice asks me why I don’t have enough money. Where did all the missing people go? I think it’s a PRD ad. He tells me they’re lying to us. He tells me we would be better off with them. They could save Mexico. 

Yesterday, someone smashed one of the windows of my car.

Last week, three guys robbed a convenience store downtown. They killed a guy. 

Something happened last month. 

Last year. 

I don’t know what it takes to act. Most of the time I feel powerless. Defeated. I focus my attention somewhere else. I deny it. I spend my time writing these things instead of running for senator. I have never gone on strike. I’m not a member of any political party. I don’t own a Mexican flag. I once stole a Gansito from a convenience store. I write in English. 

I am in no way a model citizen. 

Still, it is very hard for me to believe that voting for the right party is going to save Mexico. I would even argue that there is no ‘saving’ to be done. We are not circling an endless typhoon of misery. We are not dying, nor are we dead. We are going through a bad time. A very bad time. 

I would like to invite you to picture someone that has really hurt you in some way in the past. I’m going to think about the guy who stole my stuff, you can think about whoever you want. Feel free to also not do this. 

Picture that person sleeping. 

Do they snore? Do they breathe loudly? Are they moving around in bed? Do your best to rid yourself of preconceptions about them. Whether you’re good or evil, you sleep. We sleep. 

Picture them eating your favorite food. 

Are they enjoying it as much as you do? What is their face doing? Do they chew with their mouth open or closed? Ask them if they liked it. Imagine their response. Whether you’re good or evil, you eat. We eat. 

There is no ‘turn off crime’ switch. There is no ‘turn off war’ switch. There is no ‘Save Mexico’ switch. We are not machines. The only way we’re getting out of this is talking and acting. Not being afraid. Not shutting up. Shouting. 

The last time someone broke into my car they took two years of my life. Two years of things. Two years of me.

Poof. 

Gone. 

There is no way I can prevent anyone from doing that again. Locks can be cracked as doors can be opened or kicked down. And car windows can be rolled down or smashed. Things can be taken. Things can be taken back. 

Tomorrow I will save Mexico by replacing my car window. 

Tomorrow I will save Mexico by reporting the incident to the police. 

Tomorrow I will do my best to save Mexico even if I do happen to do the occasional illegal thing. 

Today I will save Mexico by believing in us. 

Not god. 

Not the president. 

Us.