quarta-feira, 16 de março de 2011
Today I had a horrible vivid nightmare,
And stood suddenly in time to pay attention…
I woke up scared by the falling starry night,
And start to sought through the darkness
Someone with your affection to protect me…
A glimpse of light made me remembered a time,
A time where the past brings me a memory…
A scene from the instant I was just a small child,
And fear, fear was a strong reason to cry…
Today I woke up embraced by fear,
But I did not cry or asked for shelter…
From the darkness I could see the infinite
No past, present or future could haunt me…
In that moment I felt a strong presence...
Fear could not trouble me anymore…
It was something yours that stuck with me,
And that something has no ending, no stopping…
Suddenly, suddenly we see that something is lost
Or that something is beginning to fade away…
A warm and innocent feeling gets in the way,
Illuminated by the beauty of everything that happened minutes ago…
“Una pasión… Un tipo puede cambiar de todo… De casa, de cara, de familia, de dios,
pero hay una cosa que no podemos cambiar… De pasión…” – Pablo Sandoval – El Secreto de tus ojos
Listening to Take Five – The David Brubeck Quartet
sexta-feira, 4 de março de 2011
"Necesito del mar porque me enseña:
no sé si aprendo música o conciencia:
no sé si es ola sola o ser profundo
o sólo ronca voz o deslumbrante
suposición de peces y navios.
El hecho es que hasta cuando estoy dormido
de algún modo magnético circulo
en la universidad del oleaje.
No son sólo las conchas trituradas
como si algún planeta tembloroso
participara paulatina muerte,
no, del fragmento reconstruyo el día,
de una racha de sal la estalactita
y de una cucharada el dios inmenso.
Lo que antes me enseñó lo guardo! Es aire,
incesante viento, agua y arena.
Parece poco para el hombre joven
que aquí llegó a vivir con sus incendios,
y sin embargo el pulso que subía
y bajaba a su abismo,
el frío del azul que crepitaba,
el desmoronamiento de la estrella,
el tierno desplegarse de la ola
despilfarrando nieve con la espuma,
el poder quieto, allí, determinado
como un trono de piedra en lo profundo,
substituyó el recinto en que crecían
tristeza terca, amontonando olvido,
y cambió bruscamente mi existencia:
di mi adhesión al puro movimiento."
Pablo Neruda - El Mar
"After your death you will be what you were before your birth." - Arthur Schopenhauer
Listening to L. Bacalov - "Il Postino" (Main Theme)
sábado, 22 de janeiro de 2011
Don't worry about things that you already know, or what you don't. Do not lose time thinking about the past or future, just let the divine hands write, every day, the surprise of the present...
And transform every fall into a dance step, fear into a ladder, dreams into bridges and the eternal search into a forever long meeting...
"Out, out, brief candle! Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player that struts and frets his hour upon the stage and then is heard no more: it is a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing." - William Shakespeare - Macbeth
Listening to Ennio Morricone - Cinema Paradiso
quarta-feira, 5 de janeiro de 2011
What should be mankind greatest dream? What should have been the greatest human reverie?
It’s always a hard thing to think or talk about human dreams, and a herculean job to even dream about an answer to humanity biggest dreams. But one thing I can say, with certainty, about the dream world: we stop dreaming, and that was more than 20 years ago. Since when we got stuck in the speed of this new globalized world, where you can solve problems and communicate in fraction of seconds, we lose the pleasure of dreaming. We lost the pleasure of stopping. The world does not allow us to stop anymore. Much less in order to dream. We lost in the day-to-day confusion the sense of admiring, observing the little things in life, the world no longer presents that choice to its residents. We cannot stop, we were denied of that birthright. Velocity and readiness are the main qualities in these past years, the era of disposable, everything related to these two last decades was marked by giddy beginnings and disappearances equally fast.
Going one step back in time, in the 60s was when man conquered space, The Beatles appeared, the Pill, Martin Luther King, mini-skirts, pop-art, Che and apparently a prosperous and feasible socialism. In the Brazilian scene we had Chico, Caetano, Brazil two times world champion, Glauber Rocha, Bossa-Nova exporting the Brazilian way of life, we were, with all modesty, the future. The policy of 50 years in 5 predicted in the previous decade was still in place and those who were young back in those days come to believe that every year something amazing would emerge and change once and for all the previous world order. Then came the 70s: Military dictators, Vietnam War, Beatles setting apart, Transamazonica abandoned and definitely the world become less promising. In the following decade socialism fell and with it the last great dream. Not that I’m a Marxist, I just like to think, like most of the world’s inhabitants, that two poles were viable, two antagonistic currents of thought, ideologies and the most important thing that there was a different option. With the end of socialism we cannot even differ of political opinion. Unless you truly believe that China is a socialist country or that the Labor’s Party is a leftist government. And again the argument is not trying to prove that socialism is a better option, but just exacerbating that it is a different option. Our heroes, favorite bands, events, great inventions and ideologies were buried in the last two decades.
In a world that promises speed and greater interaction in order to take advantage of diversity and thus choosing a better option our options are becoming increasingly scarce. And our ability to dream more understated. The great plague of the 90s and 2000s is the lack of ideologies, the birth of a man who does not fight, does not have opinion, does not care, just live and let life passes by, and life mercilessly goes by without giving extra chances. And these ordinary people fruit of the last two decades are not worst human beings, but rather a consequence of a time without significant.
Will still be possible to dream? Would the lack of a moral compass with which we were accustomed to be guided for so long divert us so faraway from our path?
In sum of everything seems that all significant revolutions stopped in the XX: Its difficult to imagine that a new Picasso will emerge, or a new Beatles, theories, ideologies even in new ways-out of ordinary problems, everything appear to be entangled in these conciliatory neo-liberalism, in these great emptiness that the world has become. All that for a single reason: We stopped dreaming.
"Two roads diverged in a wood and I - I took the one less traveled by, and that has made all the difference." Robert Frost
Listening to Thelonious Monk - "Pannonica"
segunda-feira, 3 de janeiro de 2011
Balada del Ausente
"Entonces no me des un motivo por favor
No le des conciencia a la nostalgia,
La desesperación y el juego.
Pensarte y no verte
Sufrir en ti y no alzar mi grito
Rumiar a solas, gracias a ti, por mi culpa,
En lo único que puede ser
Llamar sin voz porque Dios dispuso
Que si Él tiene compromisos
Si Dios mismo le impide contestar
Con dos dedos el saludo
Cotidiano, nocturno, inevitable
Es necesario aceptar la soledad,
Con el olor a perro, en esos días húmedos del sur,
En cualquier regreso
En cualquier hora cambiable del crepúsculo
Y el paso indiferente de Dios que no ve ni saluda
Que no responde al sombrero enlutado
Golpeando las rodillas
Que teme a Dios y se preocupa
Por lo que opine, condene, rezongue, imponga.
No me des conciencia, grito, necesidad ni orden.
Estoy desnudo y lejos, lo que me dejaron
Giro hacia el mundo y su secreto de musgo,
Hacia la claridad dolorosa del mundo,
Desnudo, sólo, desarmado
bamboleo mi cuerpo enmagrecido
Tropiezo y avanzo
Me acerco tal vez a una frontera
A un odio inútil, a su creciente miseria
Y tampoco es consuelo
Esa dulce ilusión de paz y de combate
Porque la lejanía
No es ya, se disuelve en la espera
Graciosa, incomprensible, de ayudarme
A vivir y esperar.
Ningún otro país y para siempre.
Mi pie izquierdo en la barra de bronce
Fundido con ella.
El mozo que comprende, ayuda a esperar, cree lo que ignora.
Se aceptan todas las apuestas:
Eternidad, infierno, aventura, estupidez
Pero soy mayor
Ya ni siquiera creo,
En romper espejos
En la noche
Y lamerme la sangre de los dedos
Como si la hubiera traído desde allí
Como si la salobre mentira se espesara
Como si la sangre, pequeño dolor filoso,
Me aproximara a lo que resta vivo, blando y ágil.
Muerto por la distancia y el tiempo
Y yo la, lo pierdo, doy mi vida,
A cambio de vejeces y ambiciones ajenas
Cada día más antiguas, suciamente deseosas y extrañas.
Volver y no lo haré, dejar y no puedo.
Apoyar el zapato en el barrote de bronce
Y esperar sin prisa su vejez, su ajenidad, su diminuto no ser.
La paz y después, dichosamente, en seguida, nada.
Ahí estaré. El tiempo no tocará mi pelo, no inventará arrugas, no me inflará las mejillas
Ahí estaré esperando una cita imposible, un encuentro que no se cumplirá."
JUAN CARLOS ONETTI
"All things truly wicked start from innocence." - Ernest Hemingway
Listening to Madeleine Peyroux - "Bare Bones"
domingo, 19 de dezembro de 2010
As I followed the less traveled road I reached a great old mansion. I knocked at the gate of lost time, nobody answered. I knocked a second time and kept knocking again and again. No response. No sounds. The house of lost time has ivy covering half of it, and ashes of a vanished past laying over the rest. Is a house where no body lives, and I kept rattling and calling, calling just to feel the pain of not being heard. Simply a lonely beat. The echo returns my urges to half-open these ice palaces of mine own. And in the end, night and day are mingled and confused by my hope, hope of waiting for the knocking to produce an echo or a reply…
The lost time certainly does not exist. Is just an empty condemned house…
"Illusion is the first of all pleasures." - Oscar Wilde
Listening to "Skeletons" - Yeah Yeah Yeahs
terça-feira, 14 de dezembro de 2010
It started to thrill me every time I begun speaking about friends. Must be age, people say that as years pass by we get more sentimental, or a constant feeling of movement, as if life was in a eternal shape shifting mode for me. But the fact is: when I think about my personal achievements and valuable belongs, friends are on equal footing with my family. And when I hear people saying that friend, real friends, we have no more than two or three, I can proudly hit my chest and say that I have way more than two or three. They are a bunch. It is not my privilege, anyone could have as many friends, but who is willing to commit? Who is willing to be engaged? People often say that John Doe is my friend, or Marie is my friend. Lie. You know them. They are people that we greeted on the street, talked quickly at a party, and we may even hear something about them, but friends? Not even close. Some actually were, but not anymore due to lack of care from both parties. Friendship is way more than just mere empathy, is a constant harvest, dedication and an eternal process of commitment. It takes time and willingness. And its most important feature is that the love involve do not need, or should not need, any reason. People often talk or commingle in Birthdays, Christmas or to ask for favors. There are always hidden motives behind it. And is that exactly paradox that can show us the factual difference between a casual and a true friend, just take the reason of the scene. I don’t need a reason. Just to miss that particular person. And, by being together, fell treated well. Hard to exemplify that feeling of being treated well. If you are in the presence of true friendship you don’t even need to put anything into words, the companion and the walk, side by side, in silence are sufficient. No need to constant praise each other, you may even pick on the other from time to time, gently. Also no need for endless demonstration of affection, and harsh truths can be said, sometimes they are needed. But the bottom line is that there is something sublime in the air between two friends. Perhaps respect is the corner stone. Affection, indeed required. Complicity? No, something greater. Tuning? No, I think is love. Only by loving you will be able to trust another person with your own personal hell. And also not to envy the battles won by the other side. For love you can share, lend, commingle and enjoy your time, you are honest in your answers, take care not to offend, embrace causes that are not yours, go into adventures, divide experiences and accept some disappearances, but reach out when that disappearance is exaggerated. All of this is dealing with friendship. If a friend like this comes into your life, do not let him go away. However, generally, people do not just let it slip from their fingers, as they contribute so they can evaporate. They ignore the mechanisms of maintenance. People think that friendship is something done, that its nature is to be constant, and we do not have to give it a helping hand. That sentiment continues up until the day that they open their little hands and are not able to count even two friends. And they start arguing that loneliness is a symptom of the modern days, so full of emergency, so individualistic. No. Loneliness is just a symptom of our negligence.
"Friendship is a single soul dwelling in two bodies." - Aristotle
Listening to Hoodoo Gurus - "Come Anytime"