sábado, 22 de janeiro de 2011

Amor ordinem nescit





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

Caveat


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

Gnothe Seauton


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
Enteramente pensado
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,
Confortarse hermanado
Con el olor a perro, en esos días húmedos del sur,
En cualquier regreso
En cualquier hora cambiable del crepúsculo
Tu silencio
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"