27 de marzo de 2013
23 de febrero de 2013
I walk in.
I see you.
I watch you.
I scan you.
I wait for you.
I tickle you.
I tease you.
I search you.
I breathe you.
I talk.
I smile.
I touch your hair.
You are the one.
You are the one
Who did this to me.
You are my own.
I show you.
I feel you.
I ask you.
I don't ask.
I don't wait.
I won't ask you.
I can't tell you.
I lie.
I am crying hard.
There was blood.
No one told me.
No one knew.
My mother knows.
I forget your name.
I don't think.
I bury my head.
I bury your head.
I bury you.
My fever.
My skin.
I cannot breathe.
I cannot eat.
I cannot walk.
I am losing time.
I am losing ground.
I cannot stand it.
I cry.
I cry out.
I bite.
I bite your lip.
I breathe you breath.
I pulse.
I pray aloud.
I smell you on my skin.
I say the word.
I say your name.
I cover you.
I shelter you.
I run from you.
I sleep beside you.
I smell you.
On my clothes.
I keep your clothes.
Jenny Holzer
Cinismo emocional.
I see you.
I watch you.
I scan you.
I wait for you.
I tickle you.
I tease you.
I search you.
I breathe you.
I talk.
I smile.
I touch your hair.
You are the one.
You are the one
Who did this to me.
You are my own.
I show you.
I feel you.
I ask you.
I don't ask.
I don't wait.
I won't ask you.
I can't tell you.
I lie.
I am crying hard.
There was blood.
No one told me.
No one knew.
My mother knows.
I forget your name.
I don't think.
I bury my head.
I bury your head.
I bury you.
My fever.
My skin.
I cannot breathe.
I cannot eat.
I cannot walk.
I am losing time.
I am losing ground.
I cannot stand it.
I cry.
I cry out.
I bite.
I bite your lip.
I breathe you breath.
I pulse.
I pray aloud.
I smell you on my skin.
I say the word.
I say your name.
I cover you.
I shelter you.
I run from you.
I sleep beside you.
I smell you.
On my clothes.
I keep your clothes.
Jenny Holzer
21 de enero de 2013
Sherlock: It has its costs.
Watson: What does?
Sherlock: Learning to see the puzzle in everything. They're everywhere. Once you start looking, it's impossible to stop. It just so happens that people, and all the deceits and delusions that inform everything they do, tend to be the most fascinating puzzles of all. Of course, they don't always appreciate being seen as such.
Watson: Seems like a lonely way to live.
Sherlock: As I said, it has its costs.
Watson: What does?
Sherlock: Learning to see the puzzle in everything. They're everywhere. Once you start looking, it's impossible to stop. It just so happens that people, and all the deceits and delusions that inform everything they do, tend to be the most fascinating puzzles of all. Of course, they don't always appreciate being seen as such.
Watson: Seems like a lonely way to live.
Sherlock: As I said, it has its costs.
13 de enero de 2013
Cathy's come home
It began oddly. You know I was wild after she died; and eternally, from dawn to dawn, praying her to return to me her spirit! I have a strong faith in ghosts: I have a conviction that they can, and do, exist among us!
The day she was buried, there came a fall of snow. In the evening I went to the churchyard. It blew bleak as winter—all round was solitary. I didn’t fear that her fool of a husband would wander up the glen so late; and no one else had business to bring them there.
Being alone, and conscious two yards of loose earth was the sole barrier between us, I said to myself ‘I’ll have her in my arms again! If she be cold, I’ll think it is this north wind that chills me ; and if she be motionless, it is sleep.”
I got a spade from the tool-house, and began to delve with all my might—it scraped the coffin; I fell to work with my hands; the wood commenced cracking about the screws; I was on the point of attaining my object, when it seemed that I heard a sigh from some one above, close at the edge of the grave, and bending down. “If I can only get this off,” I muttered, “I wish they may shovel in the earth over us both!” and I wrenched at it more desperately still. There was another sigh, close at my ear. I appeared to feel the warm breath of it displacing the sleet-laden wind. I knew no living thing in flesh and blood was by; but, as certainly as you perceive the approach to some substantial body in the dark, though it cannot be discerned, so certainly I felt that Cathy was there: not under me, but on the earth.
A sudden sense of relief flowed from my heart through every limb. I relinquished my labour of agony, and turned consoled at once: unspeakably consoled. Her presence was with me: it remained while I re-filled the grave, and led me home. You may laugh, if you will; but I was sure I should see her there. I was sure she was with me, and I could not help talking to her.
Having reached the Heights, I rushed eagerly to the door. It was fastened; and, I remember, that accursed Earnshaw and my wife opposed my entrance. I remember stopping to kick the breath out of him, and then hurrying upstairs, to my room and hers. I looked round impatiently—I felt her by me—I could almost see her, and yet I could not ! I ought to have sweat blood then, from the anguish of my yearning—from the fervour of my supplications to have but one glimpse! I had not one. She showed herself, as she often was in life, a devil to me! And, since then, sometimes more and sometimes less, I’ve been the sport of that intolerable torture! Infernal! keeping my nerves at such a stretch that, if they had not resembled catgut, they would long ago have relaxed to the feebleness of Linton’s.
When I sat in the house with Hareton, it seemed that on going out I should meet her; when I walked on the moors I should meet her coming in. When I went from home I hastened to return; she must be somewhere at the Heights, I was certain! And when I slept in her chamber—I was beaten out of that. I couldn’t lie there; for the moment I closed my eyes, she was either outside the window, or sliding back the panels, or entering the room, or even resting her darling head on the same pillow as she did when a child; and I must open my lids to see. And so I opened and closed them a hundred times a night—to be always disappointed! It racked me! I’ve often groaned aloud, till that old rascal Joseph no doubt believed that my conscience was playing the fiend inside of me.
Now, since I’ve seen her, I’m pacified—a little. It was a strange way of killing: not by inches, but by fractions of hairbreadths, to beguile me with the spectre of a hope through eighteen years!’
(Heathcliff, Wuthering Heights)
Y acá es donde la aversión es reemplazada por infinita compasión.
The day she was buried, there came a fall of snow. In the evening I went to the churchyard. It blew bleak as winter—all round was solitary. I didn’t fear that her fool of a husband would wander up the glen so late; and no one else had business to bring them there.
Being alone, and conscious two yards of loose earth was the sole barrier between us, I said to myself ‘I’ll have her in my arms again! If she be cold, I’ll think it is this north wind that chills me ; and if she be motionless, it is sleep.”
I got a spade from the tool-house, and began to delve with all my might—it scraped the coffin; I fell to work with my hands; the wood commenced cracking about the screws; I was on the point of attaining my object, when it seemed that I heard a sigh from some one above, close at the edge of the grave, and bending down. “If I can only get this off,” I muttered, “I wish they may shovel in the earth over us both!” and I wrenched at it more desperately still. There was another sigh, close at my ear. I appeared to feel the warm breath of it displacing the sleet-laden wind. I knew no living thing in flesh and blood was by; but, as certainly as you perceive the approach to some substantial body in the dark, though it cannot be discerned, so certainly I felt that Cathy was there: not under me, but on the earth.
A sudden sense of relief flowed from my heart through every limb. I relinquished my labour of agony, and turned consoled at once: unspeakably consoled. Her presence was with me: it remained while I re-filled the grave, and led me home. You may laugh, if you will; but I was sure I should see her there. I was sure she was with me, and I could not help talking to her.
Having reached the Heights, I rushed eagerly to the door. It was fastened; and, I remember, that accursed Earnshaw and my wife opposed my entrance. I remember stopping to kick the breath out of him, and then hurrying upstairs, to my room and hers. I looked round impatiently—I felt her by me—I could almost see her, and yet I could not ! I ought to have sweat blood then, from the anguish of my yearning—from the fervour of my supplications to have but one glimpse! I had not one. She showed herself, as she often was in life, a devil to me! And, since then, sometimes more and sometimes less, I’ve been the sport of that intolerable torture! Infernal! keeping my nerves at such a stretch that, if they had not resembled catgut, they would long ago have relaxed to the feebleness of Linton’s.
When I sat in the house with Hareton, it seemed that on going out I should meet her; when I walked on the moors I should meet her coming in. When I went from home I hastened to return; she must be somewhere at the Heights, I was certain! And when I slept in her chamber—I was beaten out of that. I couldn’t lie there; for the moment I closed my eyes, she was either outside the window, or sliding back the panels, or entering the room, or even resting her darling head on the same pillow as she did when a child; and I must open my lids to see. And so I opened and closed them a hundred times a night—to be always disappointed! It racked me! I’ve often groaned aloud, till that old rascal Joseph no doubt believed that my conscience was playing the fiend inside of me.
Now, since I’ve seen her, I’m pacified—a little. It was a strange way of killing: not by inches, but by fractions of hairbreadths, to beguile me with the spectre of a hope through eighteen years!’
(Heathcliff, Wuthering Heights)
Y acá es donde la aversión es reemplazada por infinita compasión.
4 de enero de 2013
21 de octubre de 2012
Pulp vision
(en la sala de espera del psiquiatra)
Esperamos y esperamos. Todos. ¿No sabía el psiquiatra que esperar es una de las cosas que vuelve loca a la gente?
La gente espera toda su vida.
Esperan vivir, esperan morir.
Esperan en la cola para comprar papel higiénico.
Esperan en la cola para recibir dinero.
Y si no tienes dinero esperas en colas más largas.
Esperas para dormirte y esperas para despertarte.
Esperas para casarte y esperas para divorciarte.
Esperas que llueva, esperas que deje de llover.
Esperas para comer y esperas para volver a comer.
Esperas en la consulta del loquero con un montón de anormales y te preguntas si serás uno de ellos.
(extracto de "Pulp", de Charles Bukowski)
Esperamos y esperamos. Todos. ¿No sabía el psiquiatra que esperar es una de las cosas que vuelve loca a la gente?
La gente espera toda su vida.
Esperan vivir, esperan morir.
Esperan en la cola para comprar papel higiénico.
Esperan en la cola para recibir dinero.
Y si no tienes dinero esperas en colas más largas.
Esperas para dormirte y esperas para despertarte.
Esperas para casarte y esperas para divorciarte.
Esperas que llueva, esperas que deje de llover.
Esperas para comer y esperas para volver a comer.
Esperas en la consulta del loquero con un montón de anormales y te preguntas si serás uno de ellos.
(extracto de "Pulp", de Charles Bukowski)
28 de junio de 2012
Why not you?
Today, many will awaken with a fresh sense of inspiration. Why not you?
Today, many will open their eyes to the beauty that surrounds them. Why not you?
Today, many will choose to leave the ghost of yesterday behind and seize the immeasurable power of today. Why not you?
Today, many will break through the barriers of the past by looking at the blessings of the present. Why not you?
Today, for many the burden of self doubt and insecurity will be lifted by the security and confidence of empowerment. Why not you?
Today, many will rise above their believed limitations and make contact with their powerful innate strength. Why not you?
Today, many will choose to live in such a manner that they will be a positive role model for their children. Why not you?
Today, many will choose to free themselves from the personal imprisonment of their bad habits. Why not you?
Today, many will choose to live free of conditions and rules governing their own happiness. Why not you?
Today, many will find abundance in simplicity. Why not you?
Today, many will be confronted by difficult moral choices and they will choose to do what is right instead of what is beneficial. Why not you?
Today, many will decide to no longer sit back with a victim mentality, but to take charge of their lives and make positive changes. Why not you?
Today, many will take the action necessary to make a difference. Why not you?
Today, many will make the commitment to be a better mother, father, son, daughter, student, teacher, worker, boss, brother, sister, & so much more. Why not you?
Today is a new day!
Many will seize this day.
Many will live it to the fullest.
Why not you?
(Steve Maraboli)
Today, many will open their eyes to the beauty that surrounds them. Why not you?
Today, many will choose to leave the ghost of yesterday behind and seize the immeasurable power of today. Why not you?
Today, many will break through the barriers of the past by looking at the blessings of the present. Why not you?
Today, for many the burden of self doubt and insecurity will be lifted by the security and confidence of empowerment. Why not you?
Today, many will rise above their believed limitations and make contact with their powerful innate strength. Why not you?
Today, many will choose to live in such a manner that they will be a positive role model for their children. Why not you?
Today, many will choose to free themselves from the personal imprisonment of their bad habits. Why not you?
Today, many will choose to live free of conditions and rules governing their own happiness. Why not you?
Today, many will find abundance in simplicity. Why not you?
Today, many will be confronted by difficult moral choices and they will choose to do what is right instead of what is beneficial. Why not you?
Today, many will decide to no longer sit back with a victim mentality, but to take charge of their lives and make positive changes. Why not you?
Today, many will take the action necessary to make a difference. Why not you?
Today, many will make the commitment to be a better mother, father, son, daughter, student, teacher, worker, boss, brother, sister, & so much more. Why not you?
Today is a new day!
Many will seize this day.
Many will live it to the fullest.
Why not you?
(Steve Maraboli)
5 de mayo de 2012
Una corrección del futuro.
No
No es no, y hay una sola manera de decirlo.
No.
Sin admiración, ni interrogantes, ni puntos suspensivos.
No, se dice de una sola manera.
Es corto, rápido, monocorde, sobrio y escueto.
No.
Se dice una sola vez,
No.
Con la misma entonación,
No.
Como un disco rayado,
No.
Un No que necesita de una larga caminata o una reflexión en el jardín no es No.
Un No que necesita de explicaciones y justificaciones,
no es No.
No, tiene la brevedad de un segundo.
Es un No, para el otro porque ya lo fue para uno mismo.
No es No, aquí y muy lejos de aquí.
No, no me deja puertas abiertas ni entrampa con esperanzas,
ni puede dejar de ser No, aunque el otro y el mundo
se pongan patas arriba.
No, es el último acto de dignidad.
No, es el fin de un libro, sin más capítulos ni segundas partes.
No, no se dice por carta, ni se dice con silencios,
ni en voz baja, ni gritando, ni con la cabeza gacha,
ni mirando hacia otro lado, ni con símbolos devueltos;
ni con pena y menos aún con satisfacción.
No es No, porque no.
Cuando el No es No, se mirará a los ojos y el No se descolgará
naturalmente de los labios.
La voz del No, no es tremula, ni vacilante, ni agresiva y no deja duda alguna.
Ese No, no es una negación del pasado, es una corrección del futuro.
Y sólo quien sabe decir No puede decir Sí.
(Hugo Finkelstein)
Gran nota mental.
No es no, y hay una sola manera de decirlo.
No.
Sin admiración, ni interrogantes, ni puntos suspensivos.
No, se dice de una sola manera.
Es corto, rápido, monocorde, sobrio y escueto.
No.
Se dice una sola vez,
No.
Con la misma entonación,
No.
Como un disco rayado,
No.
Un No que necesita de una larga caminata o una reflexión en el jardín no es No.
Un No que necesita de explicaciones y justificaciones,
no es No.
No, tiene la brevedad de un segundo.
Es un No, para el otro porque ya lo fue para uno mismo.
No es No, aquí y muy lejos de aquí.
No, no me deja puertas abiertas ni entrampa con esperanzas,
ni puede dejar de ser No, aunque el otro y el mundo
se pongan patas arriba.
No, es el último acto de dignidad.
No, es el fin de un libro, sin más capítulos ni segundas partes.
No, no se dice por carta, ni se dice con silencios,
ni en voz baja, ni gritando, ni con la cabeza gacha,
ni mirando hacia otro lado, ni con símbolos devueltos;
ni con pena y menos aún con satisfacción.
No es No, porque no.
Cuando el No es No, se mirará a los ojos y el No se descolgará
naturalmente de los labios.
La voz del No, no es tremula, ni vacilante, ni agresiva y no deja duda alguna.
Ese No, no es una negación del pasado, es una corrección del futuro.
Y sólo quien sabe decir No puede decir Sí.
(Hugo Finkelstein)
Gran nota mental.
3 de mayo de 2012
Todos los días un poco
Si una estrella más cayó
este cielo llora
si nadie reclama luna y luz
este mar ya se secó.
Si un beso es uno más
esta boca espera
si una campana no suena
el silencio se durmió.
Llaman y llaman
las flores al sol
juegan y juegan
todos los días al amor
si no me llamás
como hace la flor
te iré olvidando
todos los días un poco.
Si otro árbol desnudó
el verano muere
si nadie le exige al viento
esta nube aquí paró.
Si un año más pasó
la vida es más corta
si no sacudes al tiempo
ni un intento queda en vos.
Llaman y llaman
las flores al sol
juegan y juegan
todos los días al amor
si no me llamas
como hace la flor
me iré muriendo
todos los días un poco.
este cielo llora
si nadie reclama luna y luz
este mar ya se secó.
Si un beso es uno más
esta boca espera
si una campana no suena
el silencio se durmió.
Llaman y llaman
las flores al sol
juegan y juegan
todos los días al amor
si no me llamás
como hace la flor
te iré olvidando
todos los días un poco.
Si otro árbol desnudó
el verano muere
si nadie le exige al viento
esta nube aquí paró.
Si un año más pasó
la vida es más corta
si no sacudes al tiempo
ni un intento queda en vos.
Llaman y llaman
las flores al sol
juegan y juegan
todos los días al amor
si no me llamas
como hace la flor
me iré muriendo
todos los días un poco.
29 de abril de 2012
Reflexiones de domingo nublado
And if the night runs over
And if the day won't last
And if your way should falter
Along the stony pass
It's just a moment
This time will pass.
Tan trillado como cierto.
28 de marzo de 2012
Hail hail
Ah, is there room for both of us?
Both of us apart?
Are we bound out of obligation?
Is that all we've got?
I get the words, and then I get to thinkin'
I don't wanna think, I wanna feel
And how do I feel?
And how do I...
If you're the only one, will I never be enough?
Hail, hail the lucky ones, I refer to those in love
Swore I'd love you till the day I die, and beyond..
Are we going to the same place? if so, can I come?
It's egg rolling thick and heavy
All the past you carry
Oh, I could be new... you underestimate me
If you're the only one, will I never be enough?
Hail, hail the lucky ones, I refer to those in love
I sometimes realize I could only be as good as you'll let me
Are you woman enough to be my man?
Bandaged hand in hand
I find it on the run in a race that can't be won
All hail the lucky ones, I refer to those in love
If you're my only one, so could you only one?
I want to be your one, enough...
You won, your one, your hun
Marzo, terminate por favor.
Both of us apart?
Are we bound out of obligation?
Is that all we've got?
I get the words, and then I get to thinkin'
I don't wanna think, I wanna feel
And how do I feel?
And how do I...
If you're the only one, will I never be enough?
Hail, hail the lucky ones, I refer to those in love
Swore I'd love you till the day I die, and beyond..
Are we going to the same place? if so, can I come?
It's egg rolling thick and heavy
All the past you carry
Oh, I could be new... you underestimate me
If you're the only one, will I never be enough?
Hail, hail the lucky ones, I refer to those in love
I sometimes realize I could only be as good as you'll let me
Are you woman enough to be my man?
Bandaged hand in hand
I find it on the run in a race that can't be won
All hail the lucky ones, I refer to those in love
If you're my only one, so could you only one?
I want to be your one, enough...
You won, your one, your hun
Marzo, terminate por favor.
4 de marzo de 2012
Causa y efecto
This thorn in my side is from the tree I've planted
It tears me and I bleed, yeah... and I bleed, yeah yeah
It tears me and I bleed, yeah... and I bleed, yeah yeah
9 de enero de 2012
Realign
Decisions made from desperation
No way to go
Internal instincts craving isolation
For me to grow
My fears come alive
In this place where I once died
Demons dreaming
Knowing I... I just needed to realign
Fell in a river of illusion
And apathy
Drowning in a self-induced confusion
I'd rather be
My fears come alive
In this place where I once died
Demons dreaming
Knowing I... I just needed to realign
No way to go
Internal instincts craving isolation
For me to grow
My fears come alive
In this place where I once died
Demons dreaming
Knowing I... I just needed to realign
Fell in a river of illusion
And apathy
Drowning in a self-induced confusion
I'd rather be
My fears come alive
In this place where I once died
Demons dreaming
Knowing I... I just needed to realign
28 de julio de 2011
Vorágine
Siento que es un día que merece un post, aunque no sé bien qué poner.
Me sale la alegría.
Me sale el alivio.
Me sale el miedo.
Me sale la alegría.
Me sale la neurosis.
Me sale la ansiedad.
Me sale la alegría.
Me sale la tranquilidad.
Me sale el pánico.
Me sale la alegría.
Me sale decir "podría haber sido distinto".
Me sale retrucar "ya ES distinto".
Me sale la alegría.
Me sale la alegría.
Me sale la alegría.
Cruzaré los dedos.
8 de julio de 2011
3 de julio de 2011
25 de junio de 2011
14 de junio de 2011
A head for numbers
Si me preguntan cuál es mi número favorito, automáticamente respondo que el 1.
Sin embargo, poseo una histórica tendencia a disociar, que últimamente se ha hecho presente con bastante recurrencia, y que me deja pensando que me siento cómoda con un 2.
...pero mi eterna burbuja me deja con un lindo 3. Seguro, distante, casi aséptico 3.
Aunque me sigue gustando el 1, ¿llegaré algún día?
Sin embargo, poseo una histórica tendencia a disociar, que últimamente se ha hecho presente con bastante recurrencia, y que me deja pensando que me siento cómoda con un 2.
...pero mi eterna burbuja me deja con un lindo 3. Seguro, distante, casi aséptico 3.
Aunque me sigue gustando el 1, ¿llegaré algún día?
13 de junio de 2011
Autobombo
Qué buena onda que es que te digan que sos el amor imposible de alguien.
Es una gomada para postear, lo sé, pero esa declaración me infló el eguito un poco :)
Es una gomada para postear, lo sé, pero esa declaración me infló el eguito un poco :)
10 de junio de 2011
It's evolution, baby
Lo vi venir, haciendo alarde de su producto. Demostrándolo ante el -bastante-hostil público del subte. Pasó por delante mío, sin ofrecerme nada y a la espera de ser llamado, tal como hizo con los otros pasajeros. Dudé en pedirle que frenara. Sentí que mi indecisión demoraba todo, y que él se iría, dejándome sin mi compra...
Pero volvió a pasar, para ir a buscar una caja con el resto de sus productos. Pude ver que tenía de más colores, y tomé la decisión. Llamé al vendedor, y me compré (sisí, ME compré) una pizarra mágica.
Madurez, la llaman.
Pero volvió a pasar, para ir a buscar una caja con el resto de sus productos. Pude ver que tenía de más colores, y tomé la decisión. Llamé al vendedor, y me compré (sisí, ME compré) una pizarra mágica.
Madurez, la llaman.
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