How was dad?
Overwhelmed, absent, homophobic and authoritarian man.
and mom?
I admired her... and she frustrated me: she always took dad's side.
Patriarchy, established order.
I was a scared child. I only understood myself with my grandfather.
what did they do?
Play chess. In a sarcastic mood, he was the first straight man to accept me. And he gave me books to read.
Remind me of one of those books.
From the great Truman Capote, Other voices, other areas.
How did that mark you?
Reading was my refuge from the world.
Was it his only refuge?
I tried a gay sauna one night.
What's up?
Terrified, I did nothing. It was not my place.
Why not?
Mute and naked, he was unwanted. My body did not belong in that place. I went to confirm if I was homosexual.
And if?
I understood that I am more homoemotional than homosexual. I have linked little and I have written a lot. "I'll be a writer, then," he told me.
To tell what?
Anything that happened to me, just look at it a certain way.
In what way?
Curious and compassionate, never judging.
But you ended up on TV.
He wrote What work the Lord sends us! , a television critics blog... and that led me to television. And there I got depressed.
And so?
Buenafuente signed me up for one of his programs (En el aire), and every night I returned home feeling bad, convinced that I was not contributing anything interesting. Crisis!
How did you get out of your crisis?
I asked myself: "What am I good at?" And I answered myself: “I am good at reading”. And I read. And so Días ajenos was born.
count.
I read writers' diaries: Warhol, Kafka, Sontag, Tolstoy, Woolf, Pavese... I collected what they wrote on each specific day... and I wrote down something of my life on that day.
He dialogued with the past of others.
A full year. It was ten years ago. Today I recover that diary and I add new annotations: Symmetrical days, I title it.
For what purpose?
I need to write again because I don't know when I will do it again.
What will prevent it?
My illness will bring me bad days: my right hand no longer obeys me to write. I can still dictate... for now.
His illness is...
Multiple sclerosis, advancing disease. Every day can be the last in something for me. On last December 31, referring to the upcoming New Year's Eve, I wrote down: “My health will be worse. I hope not."
In what way could you be worse?
Being someone angry, rabid.
Is there a cure for your sclerosis?
No, but happily the current medication slows down some physical deterioration: that's why I'm alive! And here talking to you.
What would you do if you got 500 million euros today?
Better adapt the kitchen at home. And I would give to friends.
I read curious entries in his diary.
What is he referring to?
"I have better ideas than me."
It is healthy to distance yourself from yourself, and also from the ideas you have.
That modest.
We are part of a choir.
Do your ideas keep you away from TV?
On TV I tell them: "Give me your limits, and I'll see if I accept them or if I leave."
Another note: "At the top with Arrabal."
A great playwright, he starred in one of the most beautiful moments in the history of television. I proclaim myself a fan.
Entry from June 7, 2022: “19 years sleeping with hubby”.
It's just that I sleep very well with my husband! What peace, what tranquility I feel: that is essential for me. I never thought that sleeping next to someone would be so pleasant. We would never get out of bed. What would you like!
Another: "Writing is a lie, reading is true."
Writing is always imposture. We are impostors. Read, never: I get further by reading others than by writing myself.
Another note of his: "Never get drunk."
Drinking stopped being fun one day. And there it ended. I leave everything drunk behind.
Another: "You live when you don't write."
Sitting down to write is pausing living. And I am very to vary life.
