Irina Pino’s Diary

There are plenty of men who fail to meet women’s expectations when the latter ask for oral sex. They make excuses, saying they fear contracting venereal diseases, even though there are many treatments that eliminate vaginal parasites.

The industry resembles a sausage factory, where action and eye-candy are the one thing that matters. Messages of understanding, non-violence, personal growth and ethical values recede to the background.

I’ve seen a number of films dealing with gay issues recently (a friend who buys the weekly “package” makes copies of these for me). These kinds of films (particularly those with sex scenes) are barely shown on Cuban television.

I hope Wi-Fi services last in Cuba. It’s been a phenomenal idea to set up these networks, and it’s both curious and humorous to see people congregate to download information and videos and to chat with relatives and friends.

More than forty years after its release, I was finally able to enjoy Norman Jewinson’s rock opera Jesus Christ Superstar, featuring music by Andrew Lloyd Webber, now being screened at Havana’s La Rampa theater as part of a “rock golden age” retrospective.

Over time, it becomes clear that very few friends who leave the country remain in touch with those who stay. This is particularly true of those who leave for the United States. My friend “L” left three years ago.

The idea of using Havana Times to find my friend a boyfriend isn’t an experiment but an attempt at finding an alternative for her. My friend needs a partner. Her loneliness and depression could harm her psychologically in the long run.

Venecia (“Venice”), the latest film by Cuban director Enrique Alvarez, tells the stories of three young women in the span of 24 hours. The street settings – a restaurant, a bar, a disco – are a pretext to comment on different attitudes and ways of regarding life.

The phone wouldn’t stop ringing. News of a sudden death always draw attention. People want to find out the minutest detail (I don’t know why). There’s always a certain degree of morbid curiosity in the air, I suppose that’s normal.

My friend Inga was seduced by a Cuban hustler. They met at a party, danced salsa, had drinks, talked for hours and ended up having sex up on the roof terrace. A passionate string of events that left my foreign friend dazzled.