Far-off

30 08 2008

Crispy cookies
Rusty nails
Hot tea
Crumpled letters
Addressed to a stranger





Total Solar Eclipse

30 08 2008

Moons darken the sky
Shadows reign
Filling the space

Drawing all of our attention
Candles like lighthouses

While nobody sees it
Sun, taken for granted, continues to shine
Providing the background
For everything to happen
How decadent and delicious the moon can be
How barren, how boring, without the sun
Staying always there, for eclipses to happen.

Quoting:

The sun, with all those planets revolving around it and dependent on it, can still ripen a bunch of grapes as if it had nothing else in the universe to do.

, Galileo Galilei dixit and Pedro Ximenes benedixit.





Nice

27 08 2008

Just quoting:

She had always been told that nice was an empty, insipid word, but lately she’d come to rely on it quite heavily. If you can’t say something’s “nice,” you can’t say anything at all, she decided.





Jaws of rage

27 08 2008

You, who could write like a Panther Cat
Now lying down like a corpse
Waiting for others to lick your wounds
Now that the shepherd died
Wake up and chew your feet
Claw yourself through your remains
Fist your guts
Be the devil that you know
Use your jaws to grind the air
And come to life again.





A Trivial Offense. Art (Imaginary conversations with my mother)

24 08 2008

Yesterday in a catalog at the MNAC bookstore, I saw this poem which is a part of a Juliao Sarmento painting:

A TRIVIAL OFFENSE

CALL ME EAGER
TREAT ME NICE
KISS ME WARM
HOLD ME TIGHT
FEEL ME GOOD
HIT ME HARD
TOUCH ME SOFT
LICK ME SLOW
LOVE ME BAD
GRAB ME TENDER
WISH ME DEAD

I like it.

Then I bought this wonderful book by Juanjo Sáez:

Art (Imaginary conversations with my mother), a graphic novel and an interesting discussion about art, guts, intellectual constructions and rubbish. You can give a look (in Spanish) quite a lot of his material in his site.





Hi(gh-In)Fidelity: The ants are my friends…

23 08 2008

They’re blowing in the wind. The ants, hey, blowing in the wind… (thanks, Georgianne in Lorrie Moore‘s Anagrams)

Lorrie Moore, who I discovered hadn’t a full night’s sleep in three and a half years because of his son. Regarding that episode she said:

This particular parenting experience has been like a large nuclear bomb on the small village of my life

Ok, let’s get to the song. Sometimes people (especially children) listen to a song and get a distorted version of the lyrics. It is “their song” however, and it evolves as they grow up and process the lyrics in a detached and proper manner.

Infidelity is usually also in the eye/heart/mind of the beholder. Be it the traitor or the offended part.

Socially accepted limits to what an affair means vary between and within cultures and depend also on the type of relationship. According to some sources, infidelity can be defined as any violation of the mutually agreed-upon rules or boundaries of a relationship. However, such boundaries are seldom explicit and much less agreed among the partners. Is an affair any sexual contact and/or inappropriate emotional attraction to a person to somebody different from your partner?

In the very moment it happens, everything remains in the realms of interpretation. An affair is however the offended partner defines it… or whatever the active partner feels s/he has to hide because it would be an affair if committed by the other part… fuzzy, uh?

So, listen to the song more than twice and practice detachment. That’s the way to get (to the point where it is possible) the lyrics and be able to sing and enjoy the actual song… Though maybe the first impression was nicer, or not?

In Anagrams, Benna says to her poetry class:

You have a choice. The whorish emptiness of lies or the straightlaced horror of truth

Does commutative property fully apply here among all the nouns and adjectives?





I used to need crutches. Now I can walk on my own.

20 08 2008

I used to need glasses. Very thick and powerful glasses without whom I was not able to do anything. Like reading, watching a movie, staring to another person, walking in the street, definitely no running at all and the like.

My glasses

My glasses

Except for veeeery short distances, my-world-without-glasses was an impressionist painting. Nice, when you have the choice to focus.

My glasses were my crutches

My glasses were my crutches

 

 

 

My glasses were my crutches.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

But now, I enjoy my brand new eyes with the same joy as a kid:

Half of his genes are mine. And definitely his eyes are my eyes.

Half of his genes are mine. And definitely his eyes are my eyes.

 

Now I can walk on my own.