Fragmentos de Cosas.

discrimiNATION

2009-03-02T19:10:00.001-08:00

(Click to enlarge)

MILK, Van Sant, 2008.

2009-03-01T20:51:00.001-08:00

Veanla. Pero ya.

The Curious Case of Benjamin Button, D. Fincher, 2008.

2009-03-01T20:22:00.000-08:00

Benjamin Button: Along the way you bump into people who make a dent on your life. Some people get struck by lightning. Some are born to sit by a river. Some have an ear for music. Some are artists. Some swim the English Channel. Some know buttons. Some know Shakespeare. Some are mothers. And some people can dance.

One Art, Elizabeth Bishop

2008-10-23T02:48:00.000-07:00

The art of losing isn't hard to master;
so many things seem filled with the intent
to be lost that their loss is no disaster.

Lose something every day. Accept the fluster
of lost door keys the hour badly spent.
The art of losing isn't hard to master.

Then practice losing farther losing faster:
places and names and where it was your meant
to travel. None of these will bring disaster.

I lost my mother's watch. And look! my last or
next-to-last of three loved housed went.
The art of losing isn't hard to master.

I lose two cities lovely ones. And vaster
some realms I owned two rivers, a continent.
I miss them but it wasn't a disaster.

Even losing you (the joking voice a gesture
I love) I shan't have lied. It's evident
the art of losing is not too hard to master
though it may look like disaster.

Tom Clancy, Ordenes Ejecutivas.-

2008-10-20T19:46:00.000-07:00

Un sistema corrupto se corrompe constantemente, y la lógica del terror llega a la conclusión lógica: el humilde conejo acorralado por el zorro no tiene nada que perder si intenta defenderse… y los conejos tienen dientes… y a veces, hasta tienen suerte.

Cinema Paradiso, Tornatore, 1989, (II).-

2008-10-13T13:04:00.000-07:00

"No vuelvas, no escribas, no llames. Hazme caso: hagas lo que hagas, ámalo, como amabas la cabina del cine Paradiso"

Cinema Paradiso, Tornatore, 1989, (I).-

2008-10-12T12:43:00.000-07:00

Alfredo: Living here day by day, you think it's the center of the world. You believe nothing will ever change. Then you leave: a year, two years. When you come back, everything's changed. The thread's broken. What you came to find isn't there. What was yours is gone. You have to go away for a long time... many years... before you can come back and find your people. The land where you were born. But now, no. It's not possible. Right now you're blinder than I am.
Salvatore: Who said that? Gary Cooper? James Stewart? Henry Fonda? Eh?
Alfredo: No, Toto. Nobody said it. This time it's all me. Life isn't like in the movies. Life... is much harder.

¿Y a mi?

2008-10-09T23:08:00.000-07:00

Neruda

2008-09-27T21:08:00.000-07:00

"Muere lentamente quien no voltea la mesa cuando está infeliz en el trabajo, quien no arriesga lo cierto por lo incierto para ir detrás de un sueño, quien no se permite, por lo menos una vez en la vida, huir de los consejos sensatos”

Reality Bites (Final)

2008-09-24T01:26:00.000-07:00

"It's all just a...random lottery of meaningless tragedy and a series of near escapes...so I take pleasure in the details, you know? A quarter pounder with cheese, those are good...the sky about 10 minutes before it starts to rain... the moment when your laughter becomes a cackle...and I sit back... and smoke my camel straits...and I ride my own melt"

Reality Bites (III)

2008-09-22T01:22:00.000-07:00

And they wonder why those of us in our twenties refuse to work an eighty hour week. Just so we can afford to buy they're BMW's. Why we aren't interested in the counter-culture that they invented, as if we did not see them disembowell their revolution for a a pair of running shoes. But the question remains, what are we going to do now? How can we repair all the damage we inherited? Fellow graduates, the answer is simple. The answer is.. the answer is.. I don't know.

Reality Bites (ii)

2008-09-20T23:59:00.000-07:00

"What is it that you want from me Lalaina huh? You want me to get a job on the line for the next 20 years till I'm granted leave with my gold plated watch and my balls full of tumors just cause I surrendered the one thing that means shit to me, well honey you can just exhale cause its not gonna happen, not in this lifetime"

PostSecret y Harry Potter.-

2008-09-20T20:57:00.000-07:00

Reality Bites (I)

2008-09-19T19:04:00.000-07:00

Vickie Miner: You don't understand, every day, all day, it's all that I think about, OK? Every time I sneeze, it's like I'm four sneezes away from the hospice. And it's like it's not even happening to me, it's like I'm watching it on some crappy show like Melrose Place or some shit right, and I'm the new character, I'm the HIV AIDS character and I live in the building and I teach everybody that 'It's OK to be near me, it's OK to talk to me.' And then I die. And there's everybody at my funeral wearing halter tops or chokers or some shit like that.
Lelaina: Vickie stop, OK? Just stop. You're freaking out. And you know what? You're gonna have to deal with the results, whatever they are, we're gonna have to deal with them just like we've dealt with everything else.
Vickie Miner: This isn't like everything else.
Lelaina: I know that, alright? But it's gonna be OK, you know? I know it's gonna be OK. Melrose Place is a really good show.

La verdadera desgracia de mi vida es que todos los hombres quieren a Wynona (Lelaina) pero yo siempre quise ser como Janine (Vickie)

Primavera de Praga, 1968.-

2008-08-30T17:24:00.001-07:00

The Ogre does what ogres can,
Deeds quite impossible for Man,
But one prize is beyond his reach:
The Ogre cannot master speech.

About a subjugated plain,
Among it's desperate and slain,
The Ogre stalks with hands on hips,
While drivel gushes from his lips.

W. H. Auden.

Moonlight mile, Brad Silberling, 2002.

2008-08-18T06:22:00.000-07:00

On love and marriage:

When I go to bed at night I do 4 things. I drop my robe, slide under the sheets, turn on my left side and stick out my ass. That's it. That's the signal. I just - I back it right up there because I know when I do, no matter how cold the damn thing is, no matter how difficult it might feel, no matter how desperately we want to kill each other it's gonna be met by this warm body on the other side that's gonna hold it. Two arms that... wrap around, pull me out of my head, quiet the voices, save me from myself... without ever having to ask. Every night, 31 years. Every night there's my ass and every night... he never lets me down. You find your home, and it may not be what you thought - you know; colour's off, style's wrong... but there it is anyway and to hell with you if you can't take a joke.

On the day of my 21st birthday..

2008-08-08T12:05:00.000-07:00

My mother groaned, my father wept,
into the dangerous world I leapt;
helpless, naked, piping loud,
like a fiend hid in a cloud.
~ William Blake

Rayuela, Julio Cortazar, Capitulo 28.

2008-08-03T19:46:00.000-07:00

-Vamos, dejá la poesía para otra vez. De acuerdo en que no hay que fiarse de las palabras, pero en realidad las palabras vienen después de esto otro, de que unos cuantos estemos aquí esta noche, sentados alrededor de una lamparita.

-Hablá más bajo -pidió la Maga.

Sin palabra alguna yo siento, yo sé que estoy aquí -insistió Ronald-. A eso le llamó la realidad. Aunque no sea más que eso.

-Perfecto -dijo Oliveira-. Sólo que esta realidad no es ninguna garantía para vos o para nadie, salvo que la transformes en concepto, y de ahí en convención, en esquema útil. El solo hecho de que vos estés a mi izquierda y yo a tu derecha hace de la realidad por lo menos dos realidades, y conste que no quiero ir a lo profundo y señalarte que vos y yo somos dos entes absolutamente incomunicables entre sí salvo por medio de los sentidos y la palabra, cosas de las que hay que desconfiar si uno es serio.

Death of a saleman, Arthur Miller.

2008-07-18T14:45:00.000-07:00

"I run out of that building and I see... the sky. I see all the things I love in this world. The work, the food, the time to sit and smoke. And I look at this pen and I ask myself, "What the hell am I grabbing this thing for? Why am I trying to become something I don't wanna become when all I want is out there waiting for me the minute I say I know who I am?"

Biff Loman (John Malkovich, excelente en la pelicula)

Stranger than fiction, 2006 (4)

2008-07-05T16:38:00.000-07:00

Dr. Jules Hilbert: Hell Harold, you could just eat nothing but pancakes if you wanted.
Harold Crick: What is wrong with you? Hey, I don't want to eat nothing but pancakes, I want to live! I mean, who in their right mind in a choice between pancakes and living chooses pancakes?
Dr. Jules Hilbert: Harold, if you pause to think, you'd realize that that answer is inextricably contingent upon the type of life being led... and, of course, the quality of the pancakes.

Stranger than fiction, 2006 (3)

2008-07-04T16:38:00.000-07:00

Harold Crick: Miss Pascal, what you're describing is anarchy. Are you an anarchist?
Ana Pascal: You mean, am I a member of...
Harold Crick: An anarchist group, yes.
Ana Pascal: Anarchists have a group?
Harold Crick: I believe so, sure.
Ana Pascal: They assemble?
Harold Crick: I don't know.
Ana Pascal: Wouldn't that completely defeat the purpose?

Stranger than fiction, 2006 (2)

2008-07-03T08:37:00.000-07:00

This is a story about a man named Harold Crick and his wristwatch. Harold Crick was a man of infinite numbers, endless calculations, and remarkably few words. And his wristwatch said even less. Every weekday, for twelve years, Harold would brush each of his thirty-two teeth seventy-six times. Thirty-eight times back and forth, thirty-eight times up and down. Every weekday, for twelve years, Harold would tie his tie in a single Windsor knot instead of the double, thereby saving up to forty-three seconds. His wristwatch thought the single Windsor made his neck look fat, but said nothing.

Stranger than fiction, 2006 (1)

2008-07-01T16:26:00.000-07:00

"As Harold took a bite of Bavarian sugar cookie, he finally felt as if everything was going to be ok. Sometimes, when we lose ourselves in fear and despair, in routine and constancy, in hopelessness and tragedy, we can thank God for Bavarian sugar cookies. And, fortunately, when there aren't any cookies, we can still find reassurance in a familiar hand on our skin, or a kind and loving gesture, or subtle encouragement, or a loving embrace, or an offer of comfort, not to mention hospital gurneys and nose plugs, an uneaten Danish, soft-spoken secrets, and Fender Stratocasters, and maybe the occasional piece of fiction. And we must remember that all these things, the nuances, the anomalies, the subtleties, which we assume only accessorize our days, are effective for a much larger and nobler cause. They are here to save our lives. I know the idea seems strange, but I also know that it just so happens to be true. And, so it was, a wristwatch saved Harold Crick."

Esta es la primera de algunas quotes de Stranger than Fiction que publicaré esta semana. Stay tunned; estan todas muy buenas.

Runaway Bride (1999)

2008-06-26T15:48:00.000-07:00

Ike Graham, Richard Gere (¡precioso!) on the perfect proposal y despues una canción.

"Look, I guarantee there'll be tough times. I guarantee that at some point, one or both of us is gonna want to get out of this thing. But I also guarantee that if I don't ask you to be mine, I'll regret it for the rest of my life, because I know, in my heart, you're the only one for me."

Nuestro pobre individualismo, Borges, 1946.-

2008-06-20T15:32:00.001-07:00

Las ilusiones del patriotismo no tienen término. En el primer siglo de nuestra era, Plutarco se burló de quienes declaran que la luna de Atenas es mejor que la luna de Corinto; Milton, en el XVII notó que Dios tenía la costumbre de revelarse primero a Sus ingleses; Fichte, a principios del XIX, declaró que tener carácter y ser alemán es, evidentemente lo mismo. Aquí, los nacionalistas pululan; los mueve, según ellos, el atendible o inocente propósito de fomentar los mejores rasgos de los argentinos. Ignoran, sin embargo, a los argentinos; en la polémica, prefieren definirlos en función de algún hecho externo; de los conquistadores españoles (digamos) o de una imaginaria tradición católica o del “imperialismo sajón”.

El argentino, a diferencia de los americanos del Norte y de casi todos los europeos, no se identifica con el Estado. Ello puede atribuirse a la circunstancia de que, en este país, los gobiernos sueles ser pésimos o al hecho general de que el Estado es una inconcebible abstracción; (1) lo cierto es que el argentino es un individuo, no un ciudadano. Aforismos como el de Hegel “El Estado es la realidad de la idea moral” le parecen bromas siniestras. Los films elaborados en Hollywood repetidamente proponen a la admiración el caso de un hombre (generalmente, un periodista) que busca la amistad de un criminal para entregarlo después a la policía; el argentino, para quien la amistad es una pasión y la policía una mafia, siente que ese “héroe” es un incomprensible canalla. Siente con don Quijote que “allá se lo haya cada uno con su pecado” y que “no es bien que los hombre honrados sean verdugos de los otros hombres, no yéndoles nada en ello” (Quijote, I, XXII). Más de una vez, ante las vanas simetrías del estilo español, he sospechado que diferimos insalvablemente de España, esas dos líneas del Quijote han bastado para convencerme de error; son como el símbolo tranquilo y secreto de nuestra afinidad. Profundamente lo confirma una noche de la literatura argentina: esa desesperada noche en la que un sargento de la policía rural gritó que no iba a consentir el delito de que se matara a un valiente y se puso a pelear contra sus soldados, junto al desertor Martín Fierro (...)

(1) El Estado es impersonal; el argentino solo concibe una relación personal. Por eso, para él, robar dineros públicos no es un crimen. Compruebo un hecho; no lo justifico o excuso.

Y lo explica Liniers.-

2008-06-14T11:51:00.000-07:00

Más de Juno.

2008-06-11T19:52:00.000-07:00

¿Les dije ya que Juno rockea y que la tienen que ver ASAP? Si, ya, eh, en serio. Anyway, acá tienen el más que recomensable link para bajarse el soundtrack de la pelicula- top 1 en Billboard, de hecho.

Y para tentarlos, "All I Want Is You", de Barry L Polisar.

Nick Horby +00.-

2008-06-06T17:01:00.000-07:00

“Have you got any soul?" a woman asks the next afternoon. That depends, I feel like saying; some days yes, some days no. A few days ago I was right out; now I've got loads, too much, more than I can handle. I wish I could spread it a bit more evenly, I want to tell her, get a better balance, but I can't seem to get it sorted. I can see she wouldn't be interested in my internal stock control problems though, so I simply point to where I keep the soul I have, right by the exit, just next to the blues.”

Seinfeld on sex.-

2008-05-14T20:29:00.000-07:00

I know that women often complain about the number of things you have to do get male attention, the high heels, the pantyhose, the makeup, but let me tell you, it's even worse if you're a man. Because if you're a man you don't know what to do. That's why we're building bridges, climbing mountains, exploring uncharted territories. You think we want to do these things? Nobody wants to build a bridge. It's really, really hard! Designing rockets flying off into space. I guarantee you, every astronaut when he comes back from space, goes up to a girl and goes: "So, did you see me up there?"

JUNO, Jason Reitman, 2007.-

2008-05-10T20:29:00.000-07:00

Juno MacGuff: I'm losing my faith in humanity.
Mac MacGuff: Think you can narrow it down for me?
Juno MacGuff: I guess I wonder sometimes if people ever stay together for good.
Mac MacGuff: You mean like couples?
Juno MacGuff: Yeah, like people in love.
Mac MacGuff: Are you having boy troubles? I gotta be honest; I don't much approve of dating in your condition, 'cause well... that's kind of messed up.
Juno MacGuff: Dad, no!
Mac MacGuff: Well, it's kind of skanky. Isn't that what you girls call it? Skanky? Skeevy?
Juno MacGuff: Please stop now.
Mac MacGuff: [persisting] Tore up from the floor up?
Juno MacGuff: Dad, it's not about that. I just need to know if it's possible for two people to stay happy together forever, or at least for a few years.
Mac MacGuff: It's not easy, that's for sure. Now, I may not have the best track record in the world, but I have been with your stepmother for 10 years now and I'm proud to say that we're very happy.
[Juno nods]
Mac MacGuff: In my opinion, the best thing you can do is find a person who loves you for exactly what you are. Good mood, bad mood, ugly, pretty, handsome, what have you, the right person will still think the sun shines out your ass. That's the kind of person that's worth sticking with.
Juno MacGuff: I sort of already have.
Mac MacGuff: Well, of course! You're old D-A-D! You know I'll always be there to love and support you no matter what kind of pickle you're in... Obviously

Overkill, Colin Hay.-

2008-05-03T21:01:00.000-07:00

A bit depressing for a Saturday, actually. Beautiful, though. Bajensela YA (le hablo, claro, a las dos personas que leen este blog)

Gandhi on war.-

2008-04-30T21:03:00.000-07:00

What difference does it make to the dead, the orphans and the homeless, whether the mad destruction is wrought under the name of totalitarianism or the holy name of liberty or democracy?

Bill Waterson on Winter

2008-04-15T09:30:00.001-07:00

"I like these cold, gray winter days. Days like these let you savor a bad mood.”

God is Dead, F. Nietzche

2008-04-12T12:30:00.000-07:00

God is dead. God remains dead. And we have killed him. How shall we comfort ourselves, the murderers of all murderers? What was holiest and mightiest of all that the world has yet owned has bled to death under our knives: who will wipe this blood off us? What water is there for us to clean ourselves? What festivals of atonement, what sacred games shall we have to invent? Is not the greatness of this deed too great for us? Must we ourselves not become gods simply to appear worthy of it?

Thus Spoke Zarathustra
More, here.

No Country For Old Men.

2008-03-31T16:37:00.000-07:00

That is no country for old men. The young
In one another's arms, birds in the trees,
– Those dying generations – at their song,
The salmon-falls, the mackerel-crowded seas,
Fish, flesh, or fowl, commend all summer long
Whatever is begotten, born and dies.
Caught in that sensual music all neglect
Monuments of unageing intellect.

- W. B. Yeats, Sailing to Byzantium

On Joni Mitchell (Love Actually)

2008-03-22T23:35:00.000-07:00

Harry: What is this we're listening to?
Karen: Joni Mitchell.
Harry: I can't believe you still listen to Joni Mitchell.
Karen: I love her, and true love lasts a lifetime. Joni Mitchell is the woman who taught your cold English wife how to feel.
Harry: Did she? Oh, well that's good. I must write to her sometime and say thanks.

On Being A Woman, D. Parker.-

2008-03-01T15:43:00.000-08:00

Why is it, when I am in Rome,
I'd give an eye to be at home,
But when on native earth I be,
My soul is sick for Italy?

And why with you, my love, my lord,
Am I spectacularly bored,
Yet do you up and leave me- then
I scream to have you back again?

Meredith Grey, Grey's Anatomy

2008-02-27T06:28:00.000-08:00

A couple of hundred years ago, Benjamin Franklin shared with the world the secret of his success. Never leave that till tomorrow, he said, which you can do today. This is the man who discovered electricity. You think more people would listen to what he had to say. I don't know why we put things off, but if I had to guess, I'd have to say it has a lot to do with fear. Fear of failure, fear of rejection, sometimes the fear is just of making a decision, because what if you're wrong? What if you're making a mistake you can't undo? The early bird catches the worm. A stitch in time saves nine. He who hesitates is lost. We can't pretend we hadn't been told. We've all heard the proverbs, heard the philosophers, heard our grandparents warning us about wasted time, heard the damn poets urging us to seize the day. Still sometimes we have to see for ourselves. We have to make our own mistakes. We have to learn our own lessons. We have to sweep today's possibility under tomorrow's rug until we can't anymore. Until we finally understand for ourselves what Benjamin Franklin really meant. That knowing is better than wondering, that waking is better than sleeping, and even the biggest failure, even the worst, beat the hell out of never trying.

The road not taken, R. Frost.-

2008-02-24T08:37:00.000-08:00

TWO roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.

Dead Poets Society II

2008-02-21T02:32:00.000-08:00

I went into the woods because I wanted to live deliberately. I wanted to live deep and suck out all the marrow of life ... to put to rout all that was not life; and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived.

Dead Poets Society, Peter Weir, 1989.

2008-02-19T02:31:00.000-08:00

We don't read and write poetry because it's cute. We read and write poetry because we are members of the human race. And the human race is filled with passion. And medicine, law, business, engineering, these are noble pursuits and necessary to sustain life. But poetry, beauty, romance, love, these are what we stay alive for. To quote from Whitman, "O me! O life!... of the questions of these recurring; of the endless trains of the faithless--of cities filled with the foolish; what good amid these, O me, O life? Answer. That you are here - that life exists, and identity; that the powerful play goes on and you may contribute a verse." That the powerful play goes on and you may contribute a verse. What will your verse be?

Oh me! Oh Life!, W. Whitman.-

2008-02-16T22:29:00.000-08:00

Oh Me! Oh Life!

Oh me! Oh life! Of the
questions of these
recurring.

Of the endless
train of the faithless.
Of the cities filled
with the foolish.

Of myself forever
reproaching myself,
for who more foolish
than I, and who more faithless.

Of eyes that vainly
crave the light of
objects mean. Of
the struggle ever
renewed.

Of the poor results
of all. Of the plodding
and sordid crowds
I see around me.

Of the empty and
useless years of the
rest, with the rest
me intertwined.

Of the question,
oh me, so sad,
recurring.

What good amid
these, oh me,
oh life?

Answer: that you are
here, that life exists,
and identity.

That the powerful
play goes on, and
you may contribute
a verse.

A Very Short Song, Dorothy Parker.

2008-02-14T23:29:00.000-08:00

Once, when I was young and true,
Someone left me sad-
Broke my brittle heart in two;
And that is very bad.

Love is for unlucky folk,
Love is but a curse.
Once there was a heart I broke;
And that, I think, is worse.

Happy Valentine's Day.-

I will remember you, Sarah McLachlan.

2008-02-07T21:27:00.000-08:00

Tiene que ver con esto.

High Fidelity, Nick Hornby.

2008-01-31T15:04:00.000-08:00

"I'd like to do a top five records that make you feel nothing at all; that way, Dick and Barry would be doing me a favor. Me, I'll be playing the Beatles when I get home. Abbey Road, probably, although I'll program the CD to skip over "Something." The Beatles were bubblegum cards and Help! at the Saturday morning cinema and toy plastic guitars and singing "Yellow Submarine" at the top of my voice in the back row of the coach on school trips. They belong to me, not to me and Laura, or me and Charlie, or me and Alison Ashworth, and though they'll make me feel something, they won't make me feel anything bad."

Challenges to the budding poets, Lawrence Ferlinghetti.-

2008-01-10T15:21:00.000-08:00

Invent a new language anyone can understand.
Climb the Statue of Liberty.
Reach for the unattainable.
Kiss the mirror and write what you see and hear.
Dance with wolves and count the stars, including the unseen.
Be naive, innocent, non-cynical, as if you had just landed on earth (as indeed you have, as indeed we all have), astonished by what you have fallen upon.
Write living newspapers. Be a reporter from outer space, filing dispatches to some supreme managing editor who believes in full disclosure and has a low tolerance level for hot air.
Write an endless poem about your life on earth or elsewhere.
Read between the lines of human discourse.
Avoid the provincial, go for the universal.
Think subjectively, write objectively.
Think long thoughts in short sentences.
Don’t attend poetry workshops, but if you do, don’t go to learn "how to" but to learn "what" (What’s important to write about).
Don’t bow down to critics who have not themselves written great masterpieces.
Resist much, obey less.
Secretly liberate any being you see in a cage.
Write short poems in the voice of birds. Make your lyrics truly lyrical. Birdsong is not made by machines. Give your poem wings to fly to the treetops.
The much-quoted dictum from William Carlos Williams,"No ideas but in things," is OK for prose, but it lays a dead hand on lyricism, since "things" are dead.
Don’t contemplate your navel in poetry and think the rest of the world is going to think it’s important.
Remember everything, forget nothing.
Work on a frontier, if you can find one.
Go to sea, or work near water, and paddle your own boat.
Associate with thinking poets. They’re hard to find.
Cultivate dissidence and critical thinking. "First thought, best thought" may not make for the greatest poetry. First thought may be worst thought.
What’s on your mind? What do you have in mind? Open your mouth and stop mumbling.
Don't be so open-minded that your brains fall out.
Question everything and everyone. Be subversive, constantly questioning reality and the status quo.
Be a poet, not a huckster. Don’t cater, don’t pander, especially not to possible audiences, readers, editors, or publishers.
Come out of your closet. It’s dark in there.
Raise the blinds, throw open your shuttered windows, raise the roof, unscrew the locks from the doors, but don’t throw away the screws.
Be committed to something outside yourself. Be militant about it. Or ecstatic.
To be a poet at sixteen is to be sixteen, to be a poet at 40 is to be a poet. Be both.
Wake up, the world’s on fire!
Have a nice day.

Fire and Ice, Robert Frost.

2008-01-06T04:48:00.000-08:00

Some say the world will end in fire,
Some say in ice.
From what I've tasted of desire
I hold with those who favor fire.
But if it had to perish twice,
I think I know enough of hate
To say that for destruction ice
Is also great
And would suffice.

Frases redonditas, "Adios", Cerati, 2006.-

2008-01-02T07:22:00.000-08:00

No me gusta para nada postear una canción de Cerati justo cuando es tan popular pero no hay verdades mas absolutas como "No te confundas, no sirve el rencor. Son espasmos despues del adios" ( "espasmos" es una palabra espectacular para explicar los colores del corazón). Enjoy.

Retratos, Machado.-

2007-12-29T07:19:00.000-08:00

Mi infancia son recuerdos de un patio
de Sevilla,
y un huerto claro donde madura
el limonero;
mi juventud, veinte años en tierras
de Castilla;
mi historia, algunos casos que recordar
no quiero.
Ni un seductor Mañara, ni un
Bradomin he sido
-- ya conocéis mi torpe aliño
indumentario --,
mas recibí la flecha que me asignó
Cupido,
y amé cuanto ellas puedan tener de
hospitalario.

Hay en mis venas gotas de sangre
jacobina,
pero mi verso brota de manantial sereno;
y más que un hombre al uso que sabe
su doctrina
soy, en el buen sentido de la palabra,
bueno.

Desdeño las romanzas de los tenores
huecos
y el coro de los grillos que cantan
a la luna.
A distinguir me paro las voces
de los ecos,
y escucho solamente, entre
las voces, una.

Converso con el hombre que siempre
va conmigo
-- quien habla solo espera hablar
a Dios un día --;
mi soliloquio es plática con este buen amigo
que me enseñó el secreto de la filantropía.

Y al cabo, nada os debo; me debéis
cuanto escribo
a mi trabajo acudo, con mi dinero pago
el traje que me cubre y la mansión que habito,
el pan que me alimenta y el lecho
donde yago.

Y cuando llegue el día del último viaje,
y está al partir la nave que nunca ha de tornar
me encontraréis a bordo ligero de equipaje,
casi desnudo, como los hijos de la mar.-

Nostalgia del presente, JL Borges.-

2007-12-24T00:09:00.001-08:00

En aquel preciso momento
el hombre se dijo:
qué no daría por la dicha
de estar a tu lado en Islandia
bajo el gran día inmóvil
y de compartir el ahora
como se comparte la música
o el sabor de una fruta.
En aquel momento
el hombre estaba junto a ella en Islandia.

A Xmas Carol, Charles Dickens.

2007-12-23T14:51:00.000-08:00

"Marley was dead, to begin with. There is no doubt whatever about that. The register of his burial was signed by the clergyman, the clerk, the undertaker, and the chief mourner. Scrooge signed it. And Scrooge’s name was good upon ’Change for anything he chose to put his hand to. Old Marley was as dead as a doornail.

Mind! I don’t mean to say that I know of my own knowledge, what there is particularly dead about a doornail. I might have been inclined, myself, to regard a coffin-nail as the deadest piece of ironmongery in the trade. But the wisdom of our ancestors is in the simile; and my unhallowed hands shall not disturb it, or the country’s done for. You will, therefore, permit me to repeat, emphatically, that Marley was as dead as a doornail.

Scrooge knew he was dead? Of course he did. How could it be otherwise? Scrooge and he were partners for I don’t know how many years. Scrooge was his sole executor, his sole administrator, his sole assign, his sole residuary legatee, his sole friend, and sole mourner. And even Scrooge was not so dreadfully cut up by the sad event but that he was an excellent man of business on the very day of the funeral, and solemnised it with an undoubted bargain.

The mention of Marley’s funeral brings me back to the point I started from. There is no doubt that Marley was dead. This must be distinctly understood, or nothing wonderful can come of the story I am going to relate..."

More, here.

Island in the Sun

2007-12-22T13:11:00.001-08:00

Genial canción de Weezer para sonreir en este día de sol y pileta.

Intellectual Prostitutes.-

2007-12-20T14:30:00.001-08:00

"There is no such thing, at this date of the world's history, as an independent press. You know it and I know it. [...]

If I allowed my honest opinions to appear in one issue of my paper, before twenty-four hours my occupation would be gone. The business of the journalist is to destroy the truth; to lie outright; to pervert; to vilify; to fawn at the feet of mammon, and to sell the country for his daily bread. You know it and I know it and what folly is this toasting an independent press. We are the tools and vassals of the rich men behind the scenes. We are the jumping jacks, they pull the strings and we dance. Our talents, our possibilities and our lives are all the property of other men. We are intellectual prostitutes".

John Swinton, Chief of Staff at the New York Times (toast at the New York Press Club, 1953)

Ya se (?)

2007-12-18T14:22:00.000-08:00

Ya sé: envejecer, posiblemente, es sólo este ir acumulando libros leídos dentro,

preciosas latas estampadas en colores y oro donde se guardan, más o menos ordenados,
los aromas de todos los veranos y esos pequeños tesoros que se traen de los viajes: un
trocito de mármol de la Acrópolis, caramelos ingleses de regaliz, bordados húngaros,
pastilleros de Murano, sienita rosa de las canteras de Assuan, o aquel lunar de vidrio
romano de Cesarea Marítima, engastado en una mano de plata,

esas cosas inútiles que no consuelan nunca de todo lo perdido (sol de Atenas, lechosa y
verde luz del agua veneciana, té con scones en el claustro de una catedral gótica, a las
tres de la tarde, o dunas estrelladas vistas por un momento desde el aire). En todo caso,

envejecer, posiblemente, es eso: adentrarse en el miedo bien armado de recuerdos de
músicas, pinturas sabores, sombras móviles de árboles, roces de ciertas telas en el
cuerpo, vestidos que tuvimos, caricias, precisas y hermosísimas secuencias de palabras
de Calderón o Shakespeare, de Neruda o Celan,
Aparejar con tan dispares cosas un barco antiguo de madera, un barco para curzar el
norte brumoso de uno mismo, ese mar gélido y final donde no hay islas y los peces
apenas sobreviven,

ese mar de tinieblas de amarguras de rencores olvidos manos piernas artríticas, ese mar
de conciencia que se disuelve, sordera progresiva, vista turbia, parientes cada vez más
lejamos, indiferencia sobre todo, indiferencia, indiferencia hacia la suerte de uno y hacia
el desván de reliquias salvadas de la quema y cubiertas de polvo, donde no volveremos a aventurarnos, nunca, nunca, ni a echar siquiera una mirada, nunca, nunca, jamás.-

Nunca supe bien quien escribió esto pero en 2005 lo recorté de una revista literaria sin prestarle mucha atención al nombre de la autora (si me quedó claro que era una mujer) y ahora me arrepiento. No esta en internet. Queria regalarsela a mi padre- el eterno coleccionista incurable- para Navidad y sin la autora me parece un regalo medio choto. Si alguien la conoce, comenten en That's All I'm Saying y seán recompensados.

Stick Boy and Match Girl in love

2007-12-15T01:37:00.000-08:00

Stick Boy liked Match Girl,
He liked her a lot.
He liked her cute figure,
he thought she was hot.

But could a flame ever burn
for a match and a stick?
It did quite literally;
he burned up quick.

Stick Boy and Match Girl in love
Tim Burton (EEUU, 1958 - )

Nana- o porque derepente me gusta el Anime.

2007-12-12T19:59:00.000-08:00

Okay, Dimitri me presentó un anime muy copado y la verdad que Nana se acaba de convertir en mi nueva obsesión, mi nuevo fetiche, mi nuevo juguete con el que puedo molestar mientras vuelven mis series preferidas. Pero no se confundan: Nana no es un reemplazo; Nana es TODO. Y esta canción de Trapnest (¿no entienden? Vean el anime acá!) es realmente tan copada que se convirtió en mi nuevo ringtone. That's how I roll.

Poem

2007-12-07T16:36:00.000-08:00

And if it snowed and snow covered the drive
he took a spade and tossed it to one side.
And always tucked his daughter up at night.
And slippered her the one time that she lied.

And every week he tipped up half his wage.
And what he didn’t spend each week he saved.
And praised his wife for every meal she made.
And once, for laughing, punched her in the face.

And for his mum he hired a private nurse.
And every Sunday taxied her to church.
And he bubbled when she went from bad to worse.
And twice he lifted ten quid from her purse.

Here’s how they rated him when they looked back:
sometimes he did this, sometimes he did that.

Simon Armitage
Otro personal favourite. Mal.

A spoonful of Sugar!

2007-12-05T18:37:00.000-08:00

"In every job that must be done, there's an element of fun! You find the fun and...snap! The job's a game! And every task you undertake, becomes a piece of cake! A lark! A spree! It's very clear to see that...

Robot Boy, Tim Burton.-

2007-12-04T10:40:00.000-08:00

Mr. an Mrs. Smith had a wonderful life.
They were a normal, happy husband and wife.
One day they got news that made Mr. Smith glad.
Mrs. Smith would would be a mom
which would make him the dad!
But something was wrong with their bundle of joy.
It wasn't human at all,
it was a robot boy!
He wasn't warm and cuddly
and he didn't have skin.
Instead there was a cold, thin layer of tin.
There were wires and tubes sticking out of his head.
He just lay there and stared,
not living or dead.

The only time he seemed alive at all
was with a long extension cord
plugged into the wall.

Mr. Smith yelled at the doctor,
"What have you done to my boy?
He's not flesh and blood,
he's aluminum alloy!"

The doctor said gently,
"What I'm going to say
will sound pretty wild.
But you're not the father
of this strange looking child.
You see, there still is some question
about the child's gender,
but we think that its father
is a microwave blender.

"The Smith's lives were now filled
with misery and strife.
Mrs. Smith hated her husband,
and he hated his wife.
He never forgave her unholy alliance:
a sexual encounter
with a kitchen appliance.

And Robot Boy
grew to be a young man.
Though he was often mistaken
for a garbage can.

May I feel, said he.-

2007-12-02T10:23:00.000-08:00

EE Cummings otra vez, a Florence favourite, en uno de los poemas más copados jamás escritos.-

May I feel said he
(I’ll squeal said she
Just once said he)
It’s fun said she

(May i touch said he
How much said she
A lot said he)
Why not said she

(Let’s go said he
Not too far said she
What’s too far said he
Where you are said she)

May i stay said he
(Which way said she
Like this said he
If you kiss said she

May i move said he
Is it love said she)
If you’re willing said he
(But you’re killing said she

But it’s life said he
But your wife said she
Now said he)
Ow said she

(Tiptop said he
Don’t stop said she
Oh no said he)
Go slow said she

(Cccome?said he
Ummm said she)
You’re divine!said he
(You are Mine said she)

Calvin and Hobbes

2007-11-25T17:11:00.000-08:00

My very favourite comic strip. La pueden leer todos los dias acá.

Robert Frost.-

2007-11-21T16:47:00.001-08:00

And were an epitaph to be my story I'd have a short one ready for my own. I would have written of me on my stone: I had a lover's quarrel with the world.

Prisioner of Azkaban (II)

2007-11-20T15:21:00.000-08:00

"It was stupid, thinking it was him," he murmured, "I mean, I knew he was dead".

"You think the dead we have loved ever truly leave us? You think that we don't recall them more clearly than ever in times of great trouble? Your father is alive in you, Harry, and shows himself more plainly when you have need of him. How else could you produce that particular Patronus? Prongs rode again last night".

Scent Of A Woman

2007-11-18T16:15:00.000-08:00

Lt. Col. Frank Slade: Ooh, but I still smell her.
[inhales deeply through nose]
Lt. Col. Frank Slade: Women! What can you say? Who made 'em? God must have been a fuckin' genius. The hair... They say the hair is everything, you know. Have you ever buried your nose in a mountain of curls... just wanted to go to sleep forever? Or lips... and when they touched, yours were like... that first swallow of wine... after you just crossed the desert. Tits. Hoo-ah! Big ones, little ones, nipples staring right out at ya, like secret searchlights. Mmm. Legs. I don't care if they're Greek columns... or secondhand Steinways. What's between 'em... passport to heaven. I need a drink. Yes, Mr Sims, there's only two syllables in this whole wide world worth hearing: pussy. Hah! Are you listenin' to me, son? I'm givin' ya pearls here.

Al Pacino is such a Hot Bitch en esta pelicula.

Sobre la deuda.-

2007-11-17T15:04:00.000-08:00

"Aquí pues yo, Guaicaipuro Cuautémoc he venido a encontrar a los que celebran el encuentro. Aquí pues yo, descendiente de los que poblaron la América hace cuarenta mil años, he venido a encontrar a los que la encontraron hace sólo quinientos años. Aquí pues, nos encontramos todos. Sabemos lo que somos, y es bastante. Nunca tendremos otra cosa.

El hermano aduanero europeo me pide papel escrito con visa para poder descubrir a los que me descubrieron. El hermano usurero europeo me pide pago de una deuda contraída por Judas, a quien nunca autoricé venderme. El hermano leguleyo europeo me explica que toda deuda se paga con intereses, aunque sea vendiendo seres humanos y países enteros sin pedirles consentimiento.

Yo los voy descubriendo. También yo puedo reclamar pagos y también puedo reclamar intereses.

Consta en el archivo de Indias, papel sobre papel, recibo sobre recibo y firma sobre firma, que solamente entre el año 1503 y 1660 llegaron a San Lucas de Barrameda 185 mil kilos de oro y 16 millones de kilos de plata provenientes de América. ¿Saqueo? ¡No lo creyera yo! Porque sería pensar que los hermanos cristianos faltaron a su Séptimo Mandamiento. ¿Expoliación? ¡Guárdeme Tonantzin de figurarme que los europeos, como Caín, matan y niegan la sangre de su hermano! ¿Genocidio? Eso sería dar crédito a los calumniadores, como Bartolomé de las Casas, que califican al encuentro como de destrucción de las Indias, o a ultrosos como Arturo Uslar Pietri, que afirma que el arranque del capitalismo y la actual civilización europea se debían a la inundación de metales preciosos. ¡No! Esos 185 mil kilos de oro y 16 millones de kilos de plata deben ser considerados como el primero de muchos otros préstamos amigables de América, destinados al desarrollo de Europa. Lo contrario sería presumir la existencia de crímenes de guerra, lo que daría derecho no sólo a exigir devolución inmediata, sino la indemnización por daños y perjuicios. Yo, Guaicaipuro Cuautémoc, prefiero pensar en la menos ofensiva de estas hipótesis.

Tan fabulosa exportación de capitales no fueron más que el inicio de un plan "Marshalltezuma", para garantizar la reconstrucción de la bárbara Europa, arruinada por sus deplorables guerras contra los cultos musulmanes, creadores del álgebra, el baño cotidiano y otros logros superiores de la civilización.

Por eso, al celebrar el Quinto Centenario del Empréstito, podremos preguntarnos: ¿han hecho los hermanos europeos un uso racional, responsable o por lo menos productivo de los fondos tan generosamente adelantados por el Fondo Indoamericano Internacional? Deploramos decir que no.

En lo estratégico, lo dilapidaron en las batallas de Lepanto, en armadas invencibles, en terceros reichs y otras formas de exterminio mutuo, sin otro destino que terminar ocupados por las tropas gringas de la OTAN, como en Panamá, pero sin canal. En lo financiero, han sido incapaces, después de una moratoria de 500 años, tanto de cancelar el capital y sus intereses, cuanto de independizarse de las rentas líquidas, las materias primas y la energía barata que les exporta y provee todo el Tercer Mundo.

Este deplorable cuadro corrobora la afirmación de Milton Friedman según la cual una economía subsidiada jamás puede funcionar y nos obliga a reclamarles, para su propio bien, el pago del capital y los intereses que, tan generosamente hemos demorado todos estos siglos en cobrar. Al decir esto, aclaramos que no nos rebajaremos a cobrarle a nuestros hermanos europeos las viles y sanguinarias tasas del 20 y hasta el 30 por ciento de interés, que los hermanos europeos le cobran a los pueblos del Tercer Mundo.

Nos limitaremos a exigir la devolución de los metales preciosos adelantados, más el módico interés fijo del 10 por ciento, acumulado sólo durante los últimos 300 años, con 200 años de gracia. Sobre esta base, y aplicando la fórmula europea del interés compuesto, informamos a los descubridores que nos deben, como primer pago de su deuda, una masa de 185 mil kilos de oro y 16 millones de plata, ambas cifras elevadas a la potencia de 300. Es decir, un número para cuya expresión total, serían necesarias más de 300 cifras, y que supera ampliamente el peso total del planeta Tierra.

Muy pesadas son esas monedas de oro y plata. ¿Cuánto pesarían, calculadas en sangre? Aducir que Europa, en medio milenio, no ha podido generar riquezas suficientes para cancelar ese módico interés, sería tanto como admitir su absoluto fracaso financiero y/o la demencial irracionalidad de los supuestos del capitalismo. Tales cuestiones metafísicas, desde luego, no nos inquietan a los indoamericanos.

Pero sí exigimos la firma de una Carta Intención que discipline a los pueblos deudores del Viejo Continente; y que los obligue a cumplir su compromiso mediante una pronta privatización o reconversión de Europa, que les permita entregárnosla entera, como primer pago de la deuda histórica..."

Lady Chatterley's Lover

2007-11-15T19:15:00.000-08:00

Ours is essentially a tragic age, so we refuse to take it tragically. The cataclysm has happened, we are among the ruins, we start to build up new little habitats, to have new little hopes. It is rather hard work: there is now no smooth road into the future: but we go round, or scramble over the obstacles. We've got to live, no matter how many skies have fallen.

DH Lawrance. Pueden leer esta novela completita aquí.-

Symptom Recital

2007-11-11T15:44:00.000-08:00

I do not like my state of mind;
I'm bitter, querulous, unkind.
I hate my legs, I hate my hands,
I do not yearn for lovelier lands.
I dread the dawn's recurrent light;
I hate to go to bed at night.
I snoot at simple, earnest folk.
I cannot take the gentlest joke.
I find no peace in paint or type.
My world is but a lot of tripe.
I'm disillusioned, empty-breasted.
For what I think, I'd be arrested.
I am not sick, I am not well.
My quondam dreams are shot to hell.
My soul is crushed, my spirit sore;
I do not like me any more.
I cavil, quarrel, grumble, grouse.
I ponder on the narrow house.
I shudder at the thought of men....
I'm due to fall in love again.

- Dorothy Parker

Sonnet 116.-

2007-11-11T15:38:00.000-08:00

Let me not to the marriage of true minds
Admit impediments. Love is not love
Which alters when it alteration finds,
Or bends with the remover to remove:
O no! it is an ever-fixed mark
That looks on tempests and is never shaken;
It is the star to every wandering bark,
Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken.
Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks
Within his bending sickle's compass come:
Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,
But bears it out even to the edge of doom.
If this be error and upon me proved,
I never writ, nor no man ever loved.

W. Shakespeare.-

Of lies.-

2007-11-05T18:36:00.000-08:00

"We always deceive ourselves twice about the people we love—first to their advantage, then to their disadvantage."

Camus.-

House

2007-11-01T20:50:00.000-07:00

Dr. Gregory House: [to the crowd in the walk-in clinic's waiting area] Hello, sick people and their loved ones! In the interest of saving time and avoiding a lot of boring chitchat later, I'm Doctor Gregory House; you can call me "Greg." I'm one of three doctors staffing this clinic this morning.
Dr. Lisa Cuddy: Short, sweet, grab a file.
Dr. Gregory House: This ray of sunshine is Doctor Lisa Cuddy. Doctor Cuddy runs this whole hospital, so unfortunately she's much too busy to deal with you. I am a bored... certified diagnostician with a double specialty of infectious disease and nephrology. I am also the only doctor currently employed at this hospital who is forced to be here against his will.
[to Lisa]
Dr. Gregory House: That is true, isn't it?
[to crowd]
Dr. Gregory House: But not to worry, because for most of you, this job could be done by a monkey with a bottle of Motrin. Speaking of which, if you're particularly annoying, you may see me reach for this: this is Vicodin. It's mine! You can't have any! And no, I do not have a pain management problem, I have a pain problem... but who knows? Maybe I'm wrong. Maybe I'm too stoned to tell. So, who wants me?
[nobody moves]
Dr. Gregory House: And who would rather wait for one of the other two guys?
[everybody raises their hand]
Dr. Gregory House: Okay, well, I'll be in Exam Room One if you change your mind.
Dr. Lisa Cuddy: Jody Matthews?
[Jody raises her hand]
Dr. Lisa Cuddy: Please accompany Doctor House to Exam Room One

Liniers + OO.

2007-10-25T18:38:00.001-07:00

Cuando yo era chiquitita también me tapaba los ojos cuando se besaban en la tele.

Since feeling is first...

2007-10-22T22:36:00.000-07:00

A Cummings no le gustaban mucho las reglas de puntuación evidentemente pero, bueno, what can I say? It's a genius prerogative.

Since feeling is first
who pays any attention
to the syntax of things
will never wholly kiss you;

wholly to be a fool
while Spring is in the world

my blood approves,
and kisses are a better fate
than wisdom
lady I swear by all flowers. Don't cry
- the best gesture of my brain is less than
your eyelids' flutter which says

we are for each other; then
laugh, leaning back in my arms
for life's not a paragraph
and death is, I think, no paranthesis.

Two of us

2007-10-19T16:51:00.000-07:00

Más pasa el tiempo y más me doy cuenta que The Beatles, como Borges, lo escribieron TODO. "Two of us" no es la canción mas conocida, ni la más difundida pero es, sin duda, una de las más lindas. Esta llena de imagenes muy conmovedoras, mi preferida es "Two of us wearing raincoats, standing solo, in the sun..." pero hay muchas más. Los lyrics acá. Y la canción acá abajo:

"I Dig a Pygmy by Charles Hortrey and the Deaf Aids, Phase One in which Doris gets her oats"

Driving Lessons

2007-10-16T16:25:00.001-07:00

Evie Walton: [to Ben] You see an attractive woman, living on her own, you wonder: Is she a roaring lesbian? Answer, no! For your information I was married three times. Once to an actor, once to an English lord and once to a Californian. All work things... My mistake, You on the other hand, might well be gay
Ben: I'm not gay!
Evie Walton: Not gay apparently.

2007-10-12T16:22:00.000-07:00

Harry Morgan: Okay, so we can't stop this. But maybe... we can do something... to channel it. Use it for good.
Teenage Dexter: How could it ever be good?
Harry Morgan: Son, there are people out there who do really bad things. Terrible people. And the police can't catch them all. Do you understand what I'm saying?
Teenage Dexter: You're saying... they deserve it.

Mi nueva serie preferida.

2007-10-10T17:07:00.000-07:00

The power of accurate observation is commonly called cynicism by those who have not got it.

G. B. Shaw

Breakfast Club

2007-10-08T09:54:00.000-07:00

Brian Johnson: Dear Mr. Vernon, we accept the fact that we had to sacrifice a whole Saturday in detention for whatever it was we did wrong. But we think you're crazy to make us write an essay telling you who we think we are. You see us as you want to see us... In the simplest terms, in the most convenient definitions. But what we found out is that each one of us is a brain...
Andrew Clark: ...and an athlete...
Allison Reynolds: ...and a basket case...
Claire Standish: ...a princess...
John Bender: ...and a criminal...
Brian Johnson: Does that answer your question?... Sincerely yours, the Breakfast Club.

Don Juan.-

2007-10-05T00:59:00.000-07:00

"There are only four questions of value in life. What is sacred? Of what is the spirit made? What is worth living for, and what is worth dying for? The answer to each is the same: only love.”

.-

2007-10-02T17:42:00.001-07:00

Don't stand beside my grave and weep,
For I'm not there, I do not sleep,
I am a thousand winds that blow,
I am the diamond's glint on snow,
I am the sunlight on ripened grain,
I am the gentle autumn's rain.

When you awaken in morning's hush,
I am the swift uplifting rush,
of quiet birds in circle flight,
I am soft stars that shine at night,
Don't stand beside my grave and cry,
I am not there. I did not die.

About settling down.

2007-10-01T18:02:00.000-07:00

There's a moment in life where you can't recover any more from another break-up. And even if this person bugs you sixty percent of the time, well you still cant live without him. And even if he wakes you up every day by sneezing right in your face, well you love his sneezes more than anyone else's kisses.

Two Days In Paris

PHENOMENAL WOMAN

2007-09-28T23:04:00.000-07:00

Pretty women wonder where my secret lies
I'm not cute or built to suit a model's fashion size
But when I start to tell them
They think I'm telling lies.
I say
It's in the reach of my arms
The span of my hips
The stride of my steps
The curl of my lips.
I'm a woman
Phenomenally
Phenomenal woman
That's me.

I walk into a room
Just as cool as you please
And to a man
The fellows stand or
Fall down on their knees
Then they swarm around me
A hive of honey bees.
I say
It's the fire in my eyes
And the flash of my teeth
The swing of my waist
And the joy in my feet.
I'm a woman
Phenomenally
Phenomenal woman
That's me.

Men themselves have wondered
What they see in me
They try so much
But they can't touch
My inner mystery.
When I try to show them
They say they still can't see.
I say
It's in the arch of my back
The sun of my smile
The ride of my breasts
The grace of my style.
I'm a woman
Phenomenally
Phenomenal woman
That's me.

Now you understand
Just why my head's not bowed
I don't shout or jump about
Or have to talk real loud
When you see me passing
It ought to make you proud.
I say
It's in the click of my heels
The bend of my hair
The palm of my hand
The need for my care.
'Cause I'm a woman
Phenomenally
Phenomenal woman
That's me.

Maya Angelou

(Falling head over heels in love with black american literature)

2007-09-25T15:30:00.000-07:00

No man is an island,
Entire of itself.
Each is a piece of the continent,
A part of the main.
If a clod be washed away by the sea,
Europe is the less.
As well as if a promontory were.
As well as if a manner of thine own
Or of thine friend’s were.
Each man’s death diminishes me,
For I am involved in mankind.
Therefore, send not to know
For whom the bell tolls,
It tolls for thee.

John Donne

When Harry Met Sally

2007-09-24T20:22:00.000-07:00

Harry Burns: You realize of course that we could never be friends.
Sally Albright: Why not?
Harry Burns: What I'm saying is - and this is not a come-on in any way, shape or form - is that men and women can't be friends because the sex part always gets in the way.
Sally Albright: That's not true. I have a number of men friends and there is no sex involved.
Harry Burns: No you don't.
Sally Albright: Yes I do.
Harry Burns: No you don't.
Sally Albright: Yes I do.
Harry Burns: You only think you do.
Sally Albright: You say I'm having sex with these men without my knowledge?
Harry Burns: No, what I'm saying is they all WANT to have sex with you.
Sally: They do not!
Harry: Do too.
Sally: They do not.
Harry: Do too.
Sally: How do you know?
Harry: Because no man can be friends with a woman that he finds attractive. He always wants to have sex with her.
Sally: So, you're saying that a man can be friends with a woman he finds unattractive?
Harry: No. You pretty much want to nail 'em too.
Sally: What if THEY don't want to have sex with YOU?
Harry: Doesn't matter because the sex thing is already out there so the friendship is ultimately doomed and that is the end of the story.
Sally: Well, I guess we're not going to be friends then.
Harry: I guess not.
Sally: That's too bad. You were the only person I knew in New York.

50 years

2007-09-18T23:24:00.000-07:00

El otro día en That's All I'm Saying escribí un post sobre la dualidad del hombre. Dije, en resumidas lineas, que la capacidad que tiene el hombre para destruir solo puede ser comparada con la capacidad que tiene el hombre para amar. Y, okay, fue el post menos popular que escribí en mi vida pero me gustó mucho escribirlo... fui muy honesta con lo que sentía y con lo que pensaba en ese momento.

Sin embargo, hoy me encontré con esta idea que tuvo World Press Photos y no pude evitar sentir que me equivoque un poco en mi primera evaluación del alma humana. No sé pero mirando estas fotos no puedo dejar de pensar que cada cosa que destruimos, cada persona que muere, es un crimen incomparable con los actos de amor que existen, pareciese, solo para balancear todo lo horrible que nos rodea, que nos contamina.

En fin, estas fotos are definitely worth seeing.

2007-09-18T21:00:00.000-07:00

“One of the saddest things is that the only thing that a man can do for eight hours a day, day after day, is work. You can’t eat eight hours a day nor drink for eight hours a day nor make love for eight hours—all you can do for eight hours is work. Which is the reason why man makes himself and everybody else so miserable and unhappy.”

Robada de "Puto el que lee"...robado MAL.

William Faulkner en Writers at Work, de Malcolm Cowley, 1958

2007-09-14T14:07:00.000-07:00

"As if that blind rage has washed me clean, rid me of hope; for the first time, in that night alive with signs and stars, I opened myself to the gentle indifference of the world. Finding it so much life myself - so like a brother, really - I felt that I had been happy and that I was happy again. For everything to be consummated, for me to feel less alone, I had only to wish that there be a large crowd of spectators the day of my execution and that they greet me with cries of hate."

Monsieur Meursault in "The Stranger"

American Beauty II

2007-09-13T15:49:00.000-07:00

It's hard to stay mad when there's so much beauty in the world. Sometimes I feel like I'm seeing it all at once and it's too much. My heart fills up like a balloon that's about to burst, and then I remember to relax and stop trying to hold on to it and it flows through me like rain and I can feel nothing but gratitude for every single moment of my stupid, little life. You have no idea what I'm talking about, I'm sure, but don't worry. You will someday."

Lester Burnham from American Beauty

Trainspotting

2007-09-12T19:55:00.000-07:00

"Choose life. Choose a job. Choose a career. Choose a family. Choose a fucking big television. Choose washing machines, cars, compact disc players and electrical tin openers..... Choose DIY and wondering who the fuck you are on a Sunday morning. Choose sitting on that couch watching mind numbing, spirit crushing game shows, stuffing junk food into your mouth. Choose rotting away at the end of it all, pissing your last in a miserable home, nothing more than an embarrassment to the selfish, fucked-up brats you spawned to replace yourself. Choose your future. Choose life..... But why would I want to do a thing like that?"

Trainspotting

Order of the Phoenix

2007-09-11T00:31:00.000-07:00

"Harry, I owe you an explanation," said Dumbledore, "an explanation of an old man's mistake. For I see now that what I have done, and not done, with regard to you, bears all the hallmarks of the failings of age. Youth cannot know how age thinks and feels. But the old men are guilty if they forget what it was to be young... and I seem to have forgotten lately,"

Dumbledore siendo Dumbledore en Order of the Phoenix.
Estoy monotematica. Mal.

Weezer

2007-09-10T18:00:00.000-07:00

Nacho abrio una puerta enorme. Weezer rules.

Y acá el video, just as awesome, ambientado en el set de Happy Days.-

Goblet of Fire

2007-09-07T02:59:00.000-07:00

"The Triwizard Tournament's aim was to further and promote magical understanding. In the light of what has happened- of Lord Voldemort's return- such ties are more important than ever before (...) Every guest in this hall will be welcomed back here at any time should they wish to come. I say to you all, once again- in the light of Lord Voldemort's return, we are only as strong as we are united, as weak as we are divided. Lord Voldemort's gift for spreading discord and enmity is very great. We can fight it only by showing an equally strong bond of friendship and trust. Differents of habits and language are nothing at all if our aims are identical and our hearts are open. It is my belief- and never have I so hoped that I am mistaken- that we are all facing dark and difficult times. Some of you, in his Hall, have already suffered difficulty at the hands of Lord Voldemort. Many of your families have been torn asunder. A week ago, a student was taken from our midst. Remember Cedric. Remember, if the time should come when you have to make a choice between what is right and what is easy, remember what happened to a boy who was good, and kind, and brave, because he strayed across the path of Lord Voldemort. Remember Cedric Diggory".

Albus Dumbledore, Goblet Of Fire, pages 627, 628.
Tipee todo ese parrafo casi en la oscuridad; that's how much I wanted to share this.
Entra en el Top Three de mis mejores quotes de Harry Potter sin duda.
Estoy rozando la obsesión ñoña tras Deathly Hallows. Sepanlo.

I have a dream speech (I)

2007-09-06T12:16:00.000-07:00

"(...) In a sense we have come to our nation's capital to cash a check. When the architects of our republic wrote the magnificent words of the Constitution and the Declaration of Independence, they were signing a promissory note to which every American was to fall heir. This note was a promise that all men, yes, black men as well as white men, would be guaranteed the unalienable rights of life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.

It is obvious today that America has defaulted on this promissory note insofar as her citizens of color are concerned. Instead of honoring this sacred obligation, America has given the Negro people a bad check, a check which has come back marked "insufficient funds." But we refuse to believe that the bank of justice is bankrupt. We refuse to believe that there are insufficient funds in the great vaults of opportunity of this nation. So we have come to cash this check — a check that will give us upon demand the riches of freedom and the security of justice. We have also come to this hallowed spot to remind America of the fierce urgency of now. This is no time to engage in the luxury of cooling off or to take the tranquilizing drug of gradualism. Now is the time to make real the promises of democracy. Now is the time to rise from the dark and desolate valley of segregation to the sunlit path of racial justice. Now is the time to lift our nation from the quick sands of racial injustice to the solid rock of brotherhood. Now is the time to make justice a reality for all of God's children"

Dr. M. L. King Jr.

Heaven is...

2007-09-05T14:55:00.000-07:00

Heaven is where the police are British, the chefs are Italian, the mechanics are German, the Lovers are french and it is all organized by the Swiss.
Hell is where the police are German, the chefs are British, the mechanics are French, the lovers are Swiss, and it is all organized by the Italians

Hace unos años esto aparecía en el menú de Il Gato y siempre me parecio estereotipadamente cierto.

I Am Very Bothered

2007-09-02T18:50:00.000-07:00

I am very bothered when I think
of the bad things I have done in my life.
Not least that time in the chemistry lab
when I held a pair of scissors by the blades
and played the handles
in the naked lilac flame of the Bunsen burner;
then called your name, and handed them over.

O the unrivalled stench of branded skin
as you slipped your thumb and middle finger in,
then couldn't shake off the two burning rings. Marked,
the doctor said, for eternity.

Don't believe me, please, if I say
that was just my butterfingered way, at thirteen,
of asking you if you would marry me.

-- Simon Armitage

Say Anything

2007-08-29T18:39:00.000-07:00

"A career? I've thought about this quite a bit sir and I would have to say considering what's waiting out there for me, I don't want to sell anything, buy anything or process anything as a career. I dont want to sell anything bought or processed or buy anything sold or processed or repair anything sold, bought or processed as a career. I dont want to do that. My father's in the army. He wants me to join, but I can't work for that corporation, so what I've been doing lately is kick-boxing, which is a new sport...as far as career longevity, I dont really know. I cant figure it all out tonight, sir, so I'm just gonna hang with your daughter."

Lloyd Dobler, Say Anything. Gotta LOVE John Cusack.

2007-08-29T14:00:00.000-07:00

The major difference between a thing that might go wrong and a thing that cannot possibly go wrong is that when a thing that cannot possibly go wrong goes wrong it usually turns out to be impossible to get at or repair

The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, Douglas Adams

Douglas Adams

2007-08-28T13:52:00.000-07:00

To summarize: it is a well-known fact that those people who most want to rule people are, ipso facto, those least suited to do it. To summarize the summary: anyone capable of getting themselves made President should by no means be allowed to do the job. To summarize the summary of the summary: people are a problem.

"The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy", Douglas Adams

Que Alan Rickman y Stephen Fry esten en la pelicula, ayuda, pero me enamore del libro primero. Lo juro.
Ahora que lo pienso en algun punto voy a hablar de este libro en That's All I'm Saying. Asi de groso es.

A Few Good Men

2007-08-27T13:28:00.000-07:00

Col. Jessep: Son, we live in a world that has walls, and those walls have to be guarded by men with guns. Whose gonna do it? You? You, Lt. Weinburg? I have a greater responsibility than you could possibly fathom. You weep for Santiago, and you curse the marines. You have that luxury. You have the luxury of not knowing what I know. That Santiago's death, while tragic, probably saved lives. And my existence, while grotesque and incomprehensible to you, saves lives. You don't want the truth because deep down in places you don't talk about at parties, you want me on that wall, you need me on that wall. We use words like honor, code, loyalty. We use these words as the backbone of a life spent defending something. You use them as a punchline. I have neither the time nor the inclination to explain myself to a man who rises and sleeps under the blanket of the very freedom that I provide, and then questions the manner in which I provide it. I would rather you just said thank you, and went on your way, Otherwise, I suggest you pick up a weapon, and stand a post. Either way, I don't give a damn what you think you are entitled to.

Jack Nicholson en "A Few Good Men".
La pelicula más guilty pleasure de la historia.

40 year old virgin

2007-08-26T18:38:00.000-07:00

Cal: [David and Cal Playing a video Game] You're *gay* now?
David: No, I'm not gay I'm just celibate.
Cal: I think? I mean, that sounds ga- I just want you to know this is like the first conversation of like three conversations that leads to you being gay. Like... there's this and then in a year it's like, "Oh you know, I kinda wanna, ya know, get back out there but I think I like guys" and then there's the big, "Oh I'm I'm a g-gay guy now".
David: You're gay for saying that.
Cal: I'm gay for saying that?
David: You know how I know you're gay?
Cal: How? How do you know I'm gay?
David: Because you macramed yourself a pair of jean shorts.
Cal: You know how I know *you're* gay? You just told me you're not sleeping with women any more.
David: You know how I know that you're gay?
Cal: How? Cuz you're gay? and you can tell who other gay people are.
David: You know how I know you're gay?
Cal: How?
David: You like Coldplay. You know how I know you're gay?
Cal: How?
David: Your dick tastes like shit. You know how I know that you're gay?
Cal: How?
David: You like the movie "Maid in Manhattan".
Cal: You know how I know *you're* gay?
David: How?
Cal: I saw you make a spinach dip in a loaf of sour dough bread once.
David: You know how I know that you're gay?
Cal: How?
David: You have a rainbow bumpersticker on your car that says "I love it when *balls* are in my face".
Cal: That's *gay*?
David: [David loses second match] Goddamnit!
Cal: I'm ripping your head off right now. It's off, and *now* I'm throwing it at your body.
[shouts]
Cal: Fuck you!
David: Aww.

High Fidelity

2007-08-25T00:33:00.000-07:00

What came first, the music or the misery? People worry about kids playing with guns, or watching violent videos, that some sort of culture of violence will take them over. Nobody worries about kids listening to thousands, literally thousands of songs about heartbreak, rejection, pain, misery and loss. Did I listen to pop music because I was miserable? Or was I miserable because I listened to pop music?

Rob, en High Fidelity. Amo a las novelas de Nick Hornby. Y aparte Rob es interpretado en la pelicula por el genial John Cusack.

Apuntes de Psicologia: $20.
High Fidelity, hardcover: $60.

Relacionar esta última frase con el capitulo sobre Naturaleza y Cultura de Levi Strauss: Priceless.

Dios. Que ñoña soy.