¿Qué le pasa a la gente?

En los últimos días he recibido una serie de mails, comentarios, confidencias, confesiones, etc. en que la gente, entre otras cosas, me ha dicho cosas tremendas en mi cara y con la misma cara como quién te da los buenos días. Una cosa es hacerte relativamente accequible y otra es prestarte para ser el punching ball de cualquiera ¿Dónde está el límite? Dan ganas de pararla a esta gente en seco y decirle que por más que seas civilizado hay cosas que no se dicen o que por lo menos le echen una leidita al Manual de Carreño o algo así antes de siquiera mirarte. Supongo que esta gente tendrá una vida muy dura en que la gente la juzga (y canta a la cara, claro está) todos los días por cada una de sus acciones ya que se sienten con la autoridada de devolver la misma mano. O tal vez son ángeles perfectos caídos del cielo que llegan al valle de lágrimas para avisar a los mortales que el juicio está cerca. Como sea, gente como esa durante el fin de año, cuando uno anda con las defensas afectivas de lo más bajo, es lejos de lo peor que te puede pasar y vayan estas palabras como una funa a esos "dijes" de fin de año y a los desubicados de siempre.

Gary Snyder

Otro librito a comprar:
The Gary Snyder Reader: Prose, Poetry, and Translations (Paperback) by Gary Snyder (Author)
De muestra, un botón:

For All
Ah to be alive
on a mid-September morn
fording a stream
barefoot, pants rolled up,
holding boots, pack on,
sunshine, ice in the shallows,
northern rockies.

Rustle and shimmer of icy creek waters
stones turn underfoot, small and hard as toes
cold nose dripping
singing inside
creek music, heart music,
smell of sun on gravel.

I pledge allegiance

I pledge allegiance to the soil
of Turtle Island,
and to the beings who thereon dwell
one ecosystem
in diversity
under the sun
With joyful interpenetration for all.

1a edición de To the Lighthouse. Otro buen regalo de navidad.

"It was a splendid mind. For if thought is like the keyboard of a piano, divided into so many notes, or like the alphabet is ranged in twenty-six letters all in order, then his splendid mind had no sort ofdifficulty in running over those letters one by one, firmly and accurately, until it had reached, say, the letter Q. He reached Q. Very few peoplein the whole of England ever reach Q." (33).

"…and that all this desire of hers to give, to help, was vanity. For her own self-satisfaction was it that she wished so instinctively to help, to give, that people might say of her, ‘O Mrs. Ramsay! dear Mrs. Ramsay . . .Mrs. Ramsay, of course!’ And need her and send for her and admire her? Was it not secretly this that she wanted…" (41).

". . . how life, from being made up of little separate incidents which one lived one by one, became curled and whole like a wave which bore one up with it and threw one down with it, there, with a dash on the beach" (47).

". . . how life, from being made up of little separate incidents which one lived one by one, became curled and whole like a wave which bore one up with it and threw one down with it, there, with a dash on the beach" (47).

"She could have wept. It was bad, it was bad, it was infinitely bad! She could have done it differently of course; the colour could have been thinned and faded; the shapes etherealised; that was how Paunceforte would have seen it. But then she did not see it like that. She saw the colour burning on a framework of steel; the light of a butterfly’s wing lying upon the arches of a cathedral. Of all that only a few random marks scrawled upon the canvas remained. And it would never be seen; never be hung even, and there was Mr. Tansley whispering in her ear, "Women can’t paint, women can’t write…" (48).

Neruda

Por si tienen plata parea regalar (pun intended)

Christmas suggestions:


On Ugliness by Umberto Eco (Author), Alastair McEwen (translator) (Author)


un Woolf original... Uhhhhhhhh

El Irlandés a falta de tina

La Cava del Mar nos falló quitando la tina de los pétalos y cambiando el color rojo furibundo por un verde fome y una celebración post-matrimonio cumbianchera y ruidosa. El Plan B, un poco impuesto por el entusiasmo de mi amigo Andrés, fue el ubicuo Irlandés. Con amigos nuevos (Andrés actuó el rol Dallowayano... Imagínense una novela llamada Mr. Ferrada...hahaha). Bien, la cosa es que llegamos de a gotas. Primero Margaret y Leyla, luego Andrés (que una vez más nos sorprende estableciendo una nueva noción de tiempo elástico en que 15 minutos se alargaron a más de media hora). Luego "los nuevos": Miguel, Brian y Carolina. Finalmente, Lucy y su pololo completaron el grupo. Beber, conversar, reir y sentir. Bonito participar de la cofradía humana de vez en cuando. ;mucho gusto en conocerlos, cabros.