lluvia

siren

"She sighs because she feels that she will never find.

White men are like the natives: only men. They have the thinnest and clearer skin, but they are just that: only men. And she cannot love a man. She can love neither to a man who is only a man, nor to a fish that is only a fish."*

Manuel Mujica Lainez, La sirena

*sometimes i read some sentences and i think that they are so amazing that i read them over and over again, just to catch the magic and the rythm that they have inside

idea

*a bulblight is on... the light comes from the inside: inner room (?)

goodnigh'

a different way for saying things that i want to say but i dont dare:

"someday i'll have a cat that will have your name"*

*i'm the heir of a shyness that is criminally vulgar -or maybe i'm the air- (?)

enter

...till you came with the key...*

*open the nature (?)

where?

*where is my mind?

mafalda*

*:O)

light

a lighthouse in the middle of a crowded city (in a country of the end of the world) wannabe*

*to be a lighthouse in the middle of the sea is just a game for kids (?)

illuminations

When the world is reduced to a single dark wood
for our four eyes' astonishment,-- a beach for two
faithful children,-- a musical house
for one pure sympathy,-- I shall find you.

Should there be here below
but a single old man, handsome
and calm in the midst
of incredible luxury, I shall be at your feet.

Should I have realized all your memories,--
should I be the one who can bind you
hand and foot,-- I shall strangle you. *

*Quand le monde sera réduit en un seul bois noir

pour nos quatre yeux étonnés, — en une plage pour deux enfants fidèles, —

en une maison musicale pour notre claire sympathie, —

je vous trouverai.

Qu’il n’y ait ici-bas qu’un vieillard seul, calme et beau,

entouré d’un « luxe inouï », — et je suis à vos genoux.

Que j’aie réalisé tous vos souvenirs, — que je sois celle qui

sais vous garrotter, — je vous étoufferai.

blues

*ready to go

foofighter

and i said to the judge: "between steven seagal and chuck norris i prefer chuck norris"
-why?
-because he can fight wearing jeans
-yes, that is a very good reason

toys

you'll never know how much i really love you
you'll never know how much i really care

lalala la la lala la laaaaaa*

*i like ringo's nose

nihilism

life without music would be a mistake*

*no doubts about it

justice

hungry chair

*the one who was sitting there has been eaten (bye-bye)

!

i wanted to post a picture, but this doesnt allow me to do it

this sucks!!

BTW: what the hell does cocutu mean?

simple

*your wish is my command

iluminación*

In the Zen Buddhist tradition, satori refers to a flash of sudden awareness, or individual enlightenment, and is considered a "first step" towards nirvana.
Satori is the raison d'être of Zen, without which Zen is no Zen. Therefore every contrivance, disciplinary and doctrinal, is directed towards satori.

*a light that never...(so zen)

sunday

*another catholic boy...oh my goat! (?)

missed

a

*ei
** or maybe hey

secret

t e m o

pixieland

and she is still collecting and collecting stuffs (or stamps)*

*poor poor her! she's so stupid sometimes... always in fact (?)

2,3

Toward that sweet nest where I remained though parting,
And where the better part of me still lingers,
Whether the weary sun returns or leaves,
I always spread the wings of my desire.
And still from time to time I blame myself
For never having used device or force
To stay with you, knowing, away from you,
A thousand times a day I die while living.
My doubtful feet were moved by constant hope
That you would follow soon to visit me,
Extend my fleeting life a little longer.
Observe, my lord, the promise you have given:
To come and make these dreary shores alive,
Joyous and loved, and me grateful and happy.

Gaspara Stampa

*nothing much to say, i guess

*

you can never get enough

enough of this stuff

*poet

in my soul's dark mirror

are pictures of never-seen seas,

of abandoned, tragic imaginary lands,

dissolving into the blue the thereabouts.

thankyou for so much and sorry for so little*

offer

rilke's mother dressed him up as a girl till the age of five.
it was because rilke's sister had died before and the mother couldnt afford the death of her little daughter.
there is a picture of rilke at the age of 6, and his mother wrote somethig like this: "my boy with his first small trousers"*

*when you get the book and be ready, let me know and give me a shout (if you want, sure) because i'll be waiting

(0:

9.10.67

i had a brother

we never saw each other but it didnt matter

i had a brother

who walked around the jungle

while i was sleeping

i loved him in my way

i took his voice

as free as the water

i walked for a while

close to his shadow.

we never saw each other

but it didnt matter,

my brother was awoke

while i was sleeping

my brother was showing to me

behind the night

his chosen star.

julio cortázar, 1967

panic

one day i will be the one "in crisis"
and the crack of 1929 will seem a little joke at mi side
believe me (?)*

*panic on the streets of london... lalala lala lalalala

poet*

"i think, i dreamed of falling leaves,

of wide forests and dark lakes,

of sad words' echo-

however, i could not understand their meaning."

*thankyou for so much and sorry for so little

SURfin'

tango

yo quiero morir contigo,

sin confesión y sin dios,

crucificado en mi pena,

como abrazado a un rencor.

yeh

*?been you have where ------------>

Train

*agnes is a great name for a second name

** i like trains so much

:0)

i

*

could say: miss thou

sure. could

but wont

walk

Again and again, however we know the landscape of love
and the little churchyard there, with its sorrowing names,
and the frighteningly silent abyss into which the others
fall: again and again the two of us walk out together
under the ancient trees, lie down again and again
among the flowers, face to face with the sky.

rilke

*let's go in the water
take me for a walk.

o.o

ok, i confess it: i always liked fat guys*

*this is the proof

hunger

and spiderman is always hungry*

*"you make make me hungry for you"

poet

"The poetry in greek has exactly this meaning: poetry (poiesis) means "to make that something extraordinary happens". The scots use the word maker (the one that makes) to refer to a poet, but often they write it makar that in greek is makarios and means "blessed" or "happy".

Robert Graves, Difficult questions, easy answers

*and jorge luis borges has a poem named "el hacedor" that means: the maker

tripping

"Kublai Khan had noticed that Marco Polo's cities were looking alike, as if the step of one to other was not implying a trip but a change of elements. Now, of every city that Marco described, the mind of the Great Khan was based on his own, and dismantled the city piece by piece, he reconstructed it differently, replacing ingredients, displacing them, investing them.
Marco meanwhile continued describing his trip, but the emperor already was no longer listening and interrupted him:
- From now on i will be who describes the cities and you will verify if they exist and if they are like i have thought them."

Italo Calvino, The invisible cities

* and cortazar's carachter which name is Traveller never travelled at all

muZiK

*i'm in love with my guitar

mindly

because it is hard to believe but everytime that she takes a walk around that circular church and the park that is in front of it, she cant avoid thinking about somebody who has never been there*

*sometimes the mind plays the most dangerous tricks...

springtime

what i like the most about the spring is that you feel that you are still in time for everything*

*well in fact probably for "almost" everything
**to be honest maybe you are "almost" still
***ok, ok, let's recognize it: with all the luck you "almost" feel

wantU

*and if it's the last thing i ever do: i'm gonna get you

enchanted

J.C
even a little frog could beat him

*enchanted froggie

fugitives

and he sings:

dont be so cruel
dont look for more excuses
we'll always be fugitives
both of us

*"now i know that i run away because i love"

fallin'*

*sometimes your make me feel like i'm living at the edge of the world. it's just the way i smile, you say

poetry

SONNET OF THE SWEET COMPLAINT

Never let me lose the marvel
of your statue-like eyes, or the accent
the solitary rose of your breath
places on my cheek at night.

I am afraid of being, on this shore,
a branchless trunk, and what I most regret
is having no flower, pulp, or clay
for the worm of my despair.

If you are my hidden treasure,
if you are my cross, my dampened pain,
if I am a dog, and you alone my master,

never let me lose what I have gained,
and adorn the branches of your river
with leaves of my estranged Autumn.

Federico García Lorca

*because what i truly believe is that poetry is much more than a way for writing about love. it's the way for singing (even in the saddest mood) about every little thing, that is why i like so much all those poems that speak about creepy stuffs, about worms, rats, bats, ghosts, decaying bodies and all kind of animals.

**like that sabato's poem that we like so much, and starts saying: "Oh dioses de la noche, oh dioses de las tinieblas..." (you know the rest of it)

inside

harold bloom says that if you search yourself outside yourself, then you'll only find the disaster, erotic or ideological*

*"man know thyself, then thou shalt know the universe and god" phytagoras

trakl

UYKU
Lanet olsun size karanlık zehirler,
Beyaz uyku!
Alacakaranlık ağaçların
Bu çok tuhaf bahçesi
Yılan, gece kelebeği,
Örümcek ve yarasalarla dolu.
Yabancı! Akşam kızıllığında
Senin yitik gölgen,
Karanlık bir korsan
Acının tuzlu denizinde.
Beyaz kuşlar uçuşur kıyısında gecenin
Yıkılan çelik
Kentler üzerinde.

*a poem that includes: serpents, nightmoths, spiders and bats is closer to the perfection

ant(ic)

and suddenly,while she was writing on that sheet of paper she noticed that all the numbers 8 that she had drawn were in fact little and black ants

and in a minute her desk was full of ants dancing with supreme happiness *

*if i received just one dollar for each ridiculous thought that i have during the day, i should be richer than "Pol Macarni" (how funny, and how beatle)

impossible

there should be a way:

for embracing a heart (from the inside)

for caressing the blood (with silked fingers)

for healing the brain sweetly ( just with band-aids)

there should be a way (but i know that it doesnt exist)*

*malisimo

4ever

Don't forget to call, whenever
I'll be here just waiting for you
I'll be under your stars forever
Neither here nor there just right beside you
I'll be under the stairs forever
Neither here nor there just right beside you

*i like so much cats under the stairs

heabed

"but take me to the heaven of your bed*
was something that you never said"

*ok, ok, but what about if that heavenly bed is in fact the procrustes' bed, ha! (?)

madness

and this is the moment when i start throwing the cds out of the window to the street

and i shout : "why, why?" (but probably in another language, for instance in french, because the french is the best language "pour la tragedie", so i'd shout: Pourquoi, porquoi?)

and i'd hit the walls with all my pillows

and all that kind of stuffs that would be perfect if i were juliette binoche and this were just a cheap b-movie (?)*

*how funny

sound

*ifallintothesea

------->

Lovely joy left blank, perhaps you are
the center of all my labors and my loves.
If I've wept for you so much, it's because
I preferred you among so many outlined joys.

repeat

same movie again*

*deja-vu

poetry

he says: sadness sells

and he is right

but sadness only sells if the sad one is beautiful*

* being sad and ugly is not easy

STOP!*

*tongue games. that is what i call dangerous

**and the same sensation again: i know that i have seen that attitude somewhere else (?)

mirrors

she says to him that he is beautiful (but -at least in this moment- he cant see it)
he says to her that she is beautiful (but she -always- thinks she is not)
they are able to see the beauty of the other, but they cant see their own

he says that they are not guilty, that is just a "code stuff"
she woke up today singing: i'll be your mirror*

*i find it hard to believe you dont know the beauty that you are, but if you dont let me be your eyes

you

*you have my loyalty = "you are just like me"

quarter

how much time would it be necessary?

how much time would it be enough?

to see if things are the way i think they are

could i say at the end: ok, it was exactly as i wished?

should i be released?

how much time? i cant help wondering this*

*fifteen minutes with you... oh, i wouldn't say no

exit

days when i am so -but so- me*

*why cant i be you?

b-day

*someone could say: it's not your birthday anymore
** but i dont give a damn

circle

paris, february 24, 1952

Dear Eduardo:

..." every day i like more George Trakl. I have a friend who reads to me in german and after she translates every line. We have many Trakl's poems, and it seems to us that he is a deepest poet"...

julio*

*julio is cortázar, obviously

thoughtful

infatuated only with ourselves
and neither of us can think straight anymore *

*i'm trying to remember if there was a time when i could think straight
** and definetely my answer is no

?

"Why do I love" You, Sir?


"Why do I love" You, Sir?
Because—
The Wind does not require the Grass
To answer—Wherefore when He pass
She cannot keep Her place.

Because He knows—and
Do not You—
And We know not—
Enough for Us
The Wisdom it be so—

The Lightning—never asked an Eye
Wherefore it shut—when He was by—
Because He knows it cannot speak—
And reasons not contained—
—Of Talk—
There be—preferred by Daintier Folk—

The Sunrise—Sire—compelleth Me—
Because He's Sunrise—and I see—
Therefore—Then—
I love Thee—

emily dickinson

miles

following M.D' s idea -if she is right and i'm sure that she is right- i have probably travel many times around the world visiting different writers (=reading so many different countries)*

* and the other night -or after midnight- he said: "reading S. it is like travelling to a lost land"

bench

*miss you

faraway*

"a writer is a foreign country"
— Marguerite Duras

*faraday

musique

Albarn released Mali Music in 2002, recorded in Mali. He has also visited Nigeria to record music with African drummer Tony Allen. Albarn says he would like to produce a Blur album in Baghdad as he "likes the Iraqi style of music".*

*this explains so many things

globalization

there is a bench in the middle (or maybe at the left) of a class that it is inside of an university -of one of the many universities of a huge city- where a girl wrote an "exotic name" (not a local one, not even a national one).

that name remains there in that bench probably for ever at least that she decides to delete it someday or that one of her trostkist mates sticks any stuff about the eternal revolution over it.

an exotic name in the middle of an academic situation*

*coolisimo

**the entire world is inside a pocket

comPOSER

and if you've got the time
and you dont mind
let me kiss you *

*by morrissey at "live at earls court"

danger

the problem with someone who doesnt believe in possessions is that is absolutely able to be in love with someone without even touch or kiss or reach that someone*

*nothing can be weirdest than the strange case to be chained in spite of not believing in chains

swords

then i could say:

i'm going to like for ever your fat espirit

or

i'm gonna always like your bald soul

but probably this is not what you are waiting from me to say

maybe you wanna hear another words*

*morrissey said: you are the one for me, fatty

poser

*if we add the drum's stuffs, he reminds me so much someone i know

**another tragic tongue (?)

pray

and tonight i remembered that when i was a little girl, Mother taught me this prayer to say before going to sleep:

Holy guardian angel, my sweet companion,
Do not forsake me during the night or during the day
Until I rest in the arms of Jesus, Joseph and Mary. *

Amen.

*you are my angel, come and save me tonight... (but finally the devil brought me the rock and roll and i turned into a bad girl. how how tragic and probably a little satanic)

enough

so simple as posting this photo just because i like it so much*

*that's all
**that is more than enough for me

kundera

"I write for the pleasure of contradicting and the happiness of being alone against everybody."

orgía

this is not the best way to spend a friday's night *

* not crápula at all
** just an orgy of knowledge (?)
*** where is the nudity?
**** intellectual people suck
***** friday: life has killed me
****** the lesson was so but so entertaining
******* if you are so entertaining, then why are you on your own tonight?

delon

*the queen may be dead but he is definitely alive

heavenly

take me anywhere

idontcaredontcaredontcare*

*

influenza

you walk around someone without making any sound -like if you were the air-

you are trying to get closer without touching

you are trying to listen the influences to understand the reasons of a play or a song

it is like saying: "if you were a drunk, i should be a drunk too just to understand what there is inside your head"*

*and one day you see that we have all made the same road

**try walking in my shoes, you'll stumble in my footsteps

ask

ok ok ok ok

but ¿what do you prefer: a tunnel or a bridge?*

*i DO have a reverse question mark, so lucky me (?)

mustBeOne

wilderish

* a well read boy, so lost between his stuffs (how tragic, so so tragic)

clavo

= and it is like a nail that has been sticking in your heart...
slowly, but in a persistent and obstinate way, as the fine rain that seems to be imperceptible but wets you completely.
and as the seasons pass, this nail embeds itself more and more
and the pain that it causes sometimes is sweet but you know that it is pain anyway.

inevitale, inconceivably... it would be better to finish with it
but then you understand that in case of extracting this nail of your heart nothing serious would happen, simply your life would go away with it.
it is something like this, but maybe a little different

just a little*

*fuckinailing

weirderish

but fly, butter fly*

*silly games with words, this is getting even worst day by day... oh my goat!

wording

i need to know inmediately:
how much time does it take to the butter for turning into a butterfly? *

*if i throw butter to the ceiling, will its wings appear inmeadiately and will it start to fly in that moment?

hitchhike

someone must come to take out this book from my hands.

i just cant stop reading it

i could cross the country just eating apple pie and ice-cream*

*in fact i could spend my entire life just eating ice-cream (and chocolate cake)

sketch

PARIS PARK

sitting in a little park in Place Paul Painlavé

-a curving row of beautiful rosy tulips rigid

and swaying, fat shaggy sparrows, beautiful

shorthaired mademoiselles (one slid. never be

alone at night in Paris, boy or girl, but I'm

an evil old man & world hater who will

become the greatest writer who ever lived)
*

*the pleasure- the privilege (funny-tragic, ha?)

mirror

at a certain age everyone has the face that deserves

it is something so simple as this:

"Your face is as mean
As your life has been"*

*but nobody could say it in a more poetic mood

peace

Octavio Paz started his poem: The bridge with these words:


Between now and now,
between I am and you are,
the word bridge.

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