jueves, 14 de mayo de 2009
El equilibrista
martes, 12 de agosto de 2008
People are strange animals (to another blog)
2) Approximation
3) Conquest
4) Familiarity
5) Friendship
6) Motivational exercise using a mirror - The Wild Moth Inside of You
Dogs obey me; cats like me and even moths trust me. You can go through these six steps with some insects, for example. Most people won't go beyond 4. Step four already bores them too much. They want 1, 2, 3, 4, fuck it all up, buy a new one.
Before you kill an insect, you should remember it might be nobler than you. And attacking something nobler than you makes you even meaner.
If you watch insects for a while you’ll discover wisdom in them (if you have any wisdom in yourself, that is, that could relate to theirs). Most insects, for example, are ignoring people most of the time. If you get close, they’ll just move away. Fly around, and so on... If you don’t like that insect and can’t simply ignore him, you also should think twice before attacking something wiser than you.
Dogs obey me; cats like me and even moths trust me. And I like beautiful lights glowing in the dark. I keep myself pure and innocent, and I like blue lights glowing in the dark. That’s very dangerous, naturally. You can check your wikipedia to verify that angler fishes occur worldwide. Though I learn some wise things with my insect friends – ignoring is sometimes very difficult, though I manage to do it – I do not like angler fishes at all.
They probably look just like a beautiful glowing light to you. And some say they were only a beautiful glowing light, at the beginning. But they let things grow and here’s how they end up looking like, when you can see them:
I also like bees a lot. I’ve had more than one of them friendly walking over me. Bees could attack you anytime, but they won’t. And if they do, they’ll die.
I’ve felt like attacking things nobler than me, when I was younger, but I understood by then I was in the same position of a bee. If you attack something nobler than you, something in you will die. It might be that notgoodenough piece of nobility you still had, you know. If it wasn't good enough, maybe you could have used that nobler thing you attacked to help you grow it. Otherwise, even more and more things will suddenly grow nobler than you too. So before you attack something, you should seriously consider the question: "Am I nobler than what I attack, or is it nobler than me?"
When bees sting me, it’s sad. I don’t even mind the sting itself - dogs obey me; cats like me and even moths trust me, so stings won’t hurt me more than they could hurt the attacker. But I do feel kinda sad because something good will die. And though I’m always prompt to help, when things get to this point I must remember my insect wisdom and just stop writing.
:|
sábado, 12 de julio de 2008
My very own madness
martes, 8 de julio de 2008
La plasha
jueves, 3 de julio de 2008
Vintage visitors
Sarah Clee (Wales) wrote at 8:20pm yesterday Feliz Cumpleanos :) Hope you had a wicked party!! Are you still working at paraiso??? I'll be there in one week!!!!! Yaaaaaaaaaay Hasta pronto!! | |
Celine Nicholl (Durham) wrote at 11:32am on July 1st, 2008 Feliz Cumple Nico!! Voy a Barcelona fines de Julio. Quiero verte! Un gran abrazo xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx | |
Pues si, los regresos más esperados. Sarah Clee y Celine Nicholl de vuelta en Barna.
Shinishán
miércoles, 2 de julio de 2008
Possessed
Although they try and cry;
the beast is still in me.
Even when I rest I feel my blood pumping.
Something in my room is always filled with sperm.
Television, drugs
work
shopping
sexy games
will not exorcise me.
My name is wild, motherfucker.
There’s no feast
book
pussy
joint
beer
party
word
big enough to satisfy my hunger.
}:)
martes, 1 de julio de 2008
Adeu bye bye
Yiniyán
(desterrado del Paraíso, me quedo con sus manzanas)
martes, 24 de junio de 2008
Las Fieras
El animal soy yo, con el instinto alerta, lista para saltar al vacío por escapar a mis delirios de persecución.
Ya ha pasado tanto tiempo en esa cacería que ya no sé si son ellas las que me persiguen o si soy yo la que va tras ellas.
No tiene importancia...
Lo que sí importa es que tengo el coraje aniquilado. Y cometo crímenes de cobardía...
Y la cobardía deja como un rastro sangriento, que esos demonios olfatean hambrientos.
Y sin coraje no se puede construir nada...se puede soñar mucho.
Así que en esa estamos. En que no sé moverme con la doble contingencia. El misterio de la alteridad me altera.
Me aterra no comprender nada. Entonces pregunto de alguna forma y de cualquier manera me responden con mas acertijos.
¿Estará pensando lo que creo que está pensando?
Me huele que algo anda mal, y es un hedor nauseabundo: "hay algo podrido en el reino de Dinamarca"
Y así es como se cometen suicidios diarios, que seguramente no llevan al Paraiso.
Cuando pienso que alguien me quiere matar, me tiro primero por la ventana...me duele menos porque comprendo mas.
Comprendo que soy una estúpida insegura, pero sé que muero por voluntad propia.
La cobardía y el amor son feroces enemigos, y en mi caso siempre gana la primera. Mas bien, siempre pierdo yo.
No estoy diseñada para estas cosas. Tejer esa relación íntima con otra persona es un enredo. Se me nubla la vista y me lleno de fantasmas. Todo porque de repente importa mas que el otro pueda matarme.
Basta ya.
Mátame de una vez o déjame escapar. Pero no seas esa perfección encubierta, que me recuerda lo tarada que soy y la incapacidad patógena que tengo de amar a otro ser como Dios manda...es decir siguiendo viva.
Yo no sirvo para esto
Soy una mierda perfumada y quiero que me caguen de vuelta...
Por lo menos ser una mierda fresca, tiene mas elegancia.
A dar por culo con estas pelotudeces pendejas, me enferman mis paranoias y tengo que seguir funcionando. Por lo tanto amigo, ábreme la ventana y déjame romperme los huesos contra el suelo. Ese por lo menos sé que existe.
Fieras mías, o me devoran ahora o vayan a ver si estoy en la otra punta de la existencia.
Y tu compadre, si quieres enredarte en mi loca telaraña, dime tus verdades porque sino desentierro con mi olfato descalibrado hasta las mas inverosímiles mentiras. Y me las creo.
Jajaj, Soledad!!! Amiga mía! Dónde te habías metido que te había escondido en mi entrañas y no lograba dar contigo?
Tómame la mano que sin tí me siento rodeada de incertidumbre, y susurrame otra vez tu cómoda melodía.
Marineros de mi alma, media vuelta! Nos vamos a casa antes de naufragar en los bajofondos!
Ya puedo oler ese aroma de mi Tierra
Djinn
miércoles, 18 de junio de 2008
Yo protesto
domingo, 8 de junio de 2008
El Piso del Diablo
Please, forgive me my working idiosyncrasies – probably inconvenient, but certainly harmless – and allow in this room a foreign tongue. I’m a misfit not only in this house of Sudacos, but mostly everywhere I go. I belong to all the groups, and to none at all. In every room, I’m used to being the stranger. And if I advertise nothing, I’m also reluctant to hide; sometimes it shows.
In my professional talking activities, I’m already exploring irresponsibly the English market. And even though a huge center of affection somewhere along my soul intensively craves for absorbing Spanish just to join deeper into the world of my dear god companions, I can’t spend my scarce resources diving into a third language marketing. I’m small and my existence has a short fuse – I feel that only a breeze parts me from nothing.
My blog community just grew, and now I must unify this virtual universe in a single tongue inside my mouth.
A man I trust once wrote we are all islands – and that no matter how many bridges we build, the abyss is always there.
Weren’t we, from the beginning, loud gods screaming from the distances of their islands? Aren’t we all united solely by our voices?
I call for you all, and when you scream back, or even when you just listen, you touch me. I’m lonely. I want to speak, when I can turn the words into a leaping pole and get to you; or when I can’t accomplish farther than only trying it, and fall face to the ground.
You are all dear to me, because we touched – and you were all, in your each and only particular way, very friendly towards me. And though I speak an inferior language to your ears, you should know that it fits, for I bow.
I want to touch more. I feel isolated in my room, my earphones, mostly anywhere at all. I want to make more dears friends and companions. And all you, screaming gods, are invited:
www.elpisodeldiablo.blogspot.com
viernes, 6 de junio de 2008
Otra boca abierta, pero esta no es petera
Bueno, bueno, la vulgaridad y el mal gusto han llegado a límites insospechados. Un poco de recato señores, una mica de seriedad, una gota de decoro, es lo que pido.De vuelta al lenguaje y su insuficiencia, "El grito" representa para mí un instante inscripto en lo que Jacques Lacan llama el registro de lo real, de lo inefable, esos lugares que el lenguaje no puede alcanzar. El grito de angustia se sitúa en los límites del lenguaje verbal, y lo que no es claro es en qué lado de la línea ubicarlo. El grito de Munch en particular, de un rostro-máscara que pareciera a punto de ser succionado por la zigzagueante lengua de agua, está incluso aún más lejos de la palabra; siempre he pensado que esa pintura representa una escena muda, sin sonidos, un grito que quiere ser grito y, sin embargo, no consigue trascender el mero gesto.
Yiniyán
(Promoviendo el arte en pos del buen gusto)
miércoles, 4 de junio de 2008
domingo, 1 de junio de 2008
Los ojos de Boya
El lenguaje, y por lenguaje no me refiero sólo a combinaciones de letras reguladas según un conjunto de reglas (gramática), nos plantea una paradoja insalvable. Constituye para nosotros, seres humanos, el modo más certero de acercamiento, comprensión y transmisión de nuestra experiencia en el mundo pero, al mismo tiempo, desde que no puede ser más que representación de la misma, nos aleja de ella. Nada de lo que vemos es lo que vemos, sino la representación mental que de ello nos hemos creado y su traducción en algún tipo de lenguaje: verbal, sonoro, de imagen. Los mapas, paradigmáticos en este sentido, organizan nuestra concepción del planeta Tierra. Y aquí la cuestión es de detalle y perspectiva; los continentes están tan lejos unos de otros que, lógicamente imposibilitados de elevarnos y mirar el conjunto en perspectiva, alejamos los bloques de tierra y así, miniaturizados, los plasmamos en un papel.Yiniyán
martes, 27 de mayo de 2008
Das coisas grandes - gigantescas criações - me afasto. Procuro um canto pra tocar minha flauta. Em displicência vou lamber minhas ninfas.
Quero distância de quem diz “Um sátiro”. Entre paredes vivo quase isolado. Busco esquecer se posso que o meu bafo é frio. Meu nariz grosseiro. O meu peito, amargo. Meu sorriso, fácil.
De solidão já basta o breu do meu ergástulo – minha sina é clara e sempre fede a calabouço. Se eu venho aqui é que me cansa minha masmorra.
Um deus que cria. Tantas Vênus que embelezam. Por onde andam?
:?
domingo, 4 de mayo de 2008
Despues de mucho ententar, yo he conseguido la maldita contraseña.
Mi nuevo trabajo. Despues de camarero y cozinero en bar gay, recepcionista en hostel, striper, aupair, aca estoy. Despues de muchos paises como England, Spain, The Netherlands, Denmark y muchos otros, aca estoy. Nueva Zelandia.
Estoy trabajando en el Adjutamento (?!?!) de la ciudad que estoy vivindo ahora. Hamilton City Council. Hago de todo un poco. Pero mi funcion es webdeveloper. Hay una penca de argentinos y chilenos aca. Muchos. Solo se escucha castellano en la calle! jajaja
Bueno que practico mi castellano.
Estoy vivindo en un pequenito piso con 2 habitaciones, una salita, cozina y baño. Yo y mi novia (como se dice fianceé en castellano?). Trabajo 8 horas/dia, 5 dias en la semana. Tengo mi coche, no tengo amigos todavia pero si compañeros de trabajo y amigos de mi chica. La qualidad de vida aca es buenissima y un poco cara. Pero bue, se cobra muy bien en el final de cada semana.
La gente es muy destinta. Hay mucha gente guay y mucha gente loca. Como en toda parte!
No hay autobuses porque todos tienen coches y hay una linea de buses en el centro pero es gratis.
Hay tambien algunos bares y restaurantes pero no me da ganas de ir. Hay un monton de jovensitos rebeldes y les gustan las peleas. Son muy rebeldes estos jovens! Me rompen las pelotas.
El invierno esta llegando pero no hace mucho frio. El verano fue de puta madre!
Todavia estoy en una fase de adaptacion aca. Voy a escribir mas veces y espero que vosotros leiam (leer, to read, ler... no lo se...) y que todos understand mi castellano!
Muchos besos, muchos abrazos y saludos desde aca!
Extraño a todos vosotros!
RastaBRA
miércoles, 30 de abril de 2008
A letter to the World Vegetarians
It is absolutely normal for an intelligent person to be distressed by the idea of killing and devouring an animal--we experience the same discomfort about it. One can have very fruitful relations with most animals we eat and it does feel deranged to feast upon them.
Furthermore, and notwithstanding this personal relation, a sensitive Man can still sympathize with the animal’s primal urge--that we also feel--to simply be alive. We can understand that.
Nevertheless, if we confront these feelings with daily life, we will learn that eating meat, in moderation, is a perfectly healthy, natural behavior shared by many species; It is not a perversion of any sort.
If the idea of killing and eating an animal is really so hostile and deranged to you--if you find yourself utterly disgusted by the presence of a dead cow inside a supermarket--our immediate wonder is: “Why do you not feel the same way about vegetables?”
Plants are alive too, you know... Even if you have never spent time enough among them to feel it in your conscience, you most certainly have learned this in school. There is no discussion: Vegetables are alive, just like we are; They are living beings, like the animals you refuse to swallow.
However, in complete discordance with this simple piece of common knowledge, we still consider (in the back of our minds) that these beautiful entities are outcasts--pagans!--probably only because they have no eyes, no voice... No immediate connection to awaken our senses out of the stupid denying of life to the vegetal world.
To say that a plan cannot feel, because it has no nervous central system, is like saying that bats cannot see, because they perceive no light. We are not the center of the world, as the book of Genesis (and the entire bible, really, with its human-like God) suggests. If a living being cannot feel the world through the same tools we humans do, it does not mean they cannot feel at all.
If a plant is damaged, it releases hormones to make it more difficult to eat and actually slightly poisonous. How can you deny their suffering? This is no casual observation, but a scientific fact. When plants are hurt, they try to protect themselves. Only because they cannot bleed, or cry, or scream, will you pretend it is alright?
Though we cannot relate ourselves to a banana the same way we could do it with a dog (unless you are a pervert, of course, which would not surprise me) the fact remains that vegetables are living beings and that we rip them out of the ground and eat them.
And we--horrible hungry Men--are not the only ones doing it. Cute bunnies do it too.
#
Absolutely everything--everything--that can be fit into biology is nothing but the history of vegetables and their parasites. There is no way around it. We are bloody fucking parasites and we eat the living so that we will survive; kill yourself, or get over it.
We must put ourselves in the position of a little kid who is averse to needles and needs to take an injection. We are not perfect, and some times it is wise to admit our feelings are wrong. So, despite our personal disposition towards this subject, we encourage ourselves, in moderation, to kill and eat fellow sentient beings--animals or plants, indistinctly--not only as a necessity to survive, but also as a path to enlightenment; For the pure act of eating, if properly understood and imbued with the right meaning, will help deteriorating ignorant illusions blocking our way to reality, freedom and true peace.
#
It is also common knowledge that many among your group became vegetarians not for the mere repulsion to eat meat, but as a passive attack against companies that cruelly mistreat the animals destined to become food.
“We cannot support this industry”, we have heard for a long time, from many different mouths. This is also a desire we can admire. We are against animal abuse too but, unfortunately, a passive resistance as simple as not buying meat does not appear, in reality, to have any influence over the Machine.
If the majority of the population suddenly did the same, then maybe your plan would have a chance--maybe! But, as discussed previously, eating meat is a natural behavior and it will continue. You cannot trust a plan to save the whole planet if this plan only works after 80% of the population starts an anomalous food program. The Beast says “Fit!”, and most are not eager to be an anomaly. There are few of us out there who are willing to fight. Our individual economical power is not significant enough to make the Machine bleed. So let us think of another individual power that can work like a knife and help us in our fight: Knowledge.
#
Real knowledge begins with Socrates. Not to have read Socrates dialogues is like being an analphabet. In those books, one can find the very Guiding Manual of Being a
Concerning the topic of this letter, a basic analysis of Plato’s Republic will clearly demonstrate that when Men group themselves together in a city--and divide the different jobs among different people--the removal of garbage from the streets will depend much more on the character of the garbage-man than on the character of anyone else.
Any given city can be entirely populated by recycling-freaks environmentalists who never miss a trash can and still be completely filthy if the garbage-man, for example, is a drunk pedophile fucker who never works and can only think about collecting public fees and sniffing powder with underaged prostitutes.
Through the same process, a city filled with the lamest teenagers in the world would still shine clean if taken care by a real version of the super heroes we see in toothpaste commercials.
If you are worried about garbage on the streets, creating sophisticated means to deal with your own trash and stimulating it between your neighbors will change nothing. You must aim at the garbage-man. You must attack him and take his place, or force him to work properly.
Boycotting meat, or any product sold in a large scale, is pretty similar to praying--It makes you feel better, and it changes nothing.
We need to attack--that is what we do. And as we already have a solid plan, now all we need is power to sink the knife in.
We need more soldiers by our side and for that reason we want your group to dissolve. Demons are those who deprive a society of its fighting energy. Fiends! Your whole ideology is no better than a bible with crucified broccolis in the place of Jesus. Your World Vegetarians disseminate words of a false salvation and leads people into the belief that meaningless selfishness and vanity acts resume their social obligations.
If you teach a warrior he is doing enough by simply buying selected products while the enemy burn our houses and rape our women you are evil and you must perish--this is why we have kidnapped your leader.
#
A minor boycott will never cause the food industry to collapse. Even at the impossible perfect scenario of your deceiving plan, if you had magically convinced the whole world population to stop eating the animals, you could not simply stop to eat at all.
The big companies are not a bunch of balls inertly falling. They are not commanded by gravity or any other unmollifiable law; It adapts! And even now, as the percentage of non-meat-eaters is ludicrously small, these companies already make a gravy train over your silly utopia of breaking them.
All they need to do is change a logo and dive at the pool of any other market; Suddenly you are feeding them again, giving your money away for those nice soy products--and if you are infuriated about the animals, do not dare thinking they treat those grains any better.
#
In forests all over the world, where many of us were raised, there are indians who feel they must excuse themselves to a three before cutting it down. They ask the trees for their permission and then they apologize.
We have spent most of our lives among plants and we know they are alive.
When you look at all the vegetables we eat, you should also realize they did not come from a beautiful hilltop, where they had the best cozy sun every morning and the fairly undisputed floor from which to suck different dishes from time to time. They are not given the joy of the refreshing surprise of the rain. Most of the vegetables you eat never felt the rain, or even natural sunlight. These plants did not have a normal wild life where they could get some kind of affective relation with other elements of Nature.
Plants can also sense things and communicate, in some levels, with whatever surrounds them, be it a Man, a passing fox, a bird nesting upon them, or even just another plant living nearby.
The vegetables we eat lived confined and planted in series, artificially lighten and fed and abnormally grown with chemicals to please our tastes and commercial conveniences--just like the pigs, ducks and cows you say you are willing to fight for.
#
Do not fool yourself. Our food industry is perverse, but that is only a small part of this huge industrial evil that took hold of our society.
The garbage-man is a hooker and the actual hookers became role models! The mayor is greedy, the police is blood thirsty and the workers are drugged; The doctor is sick, the teacher is crazy, the layer is guilty and the list goes on and on forever...
You can not change all of that with a fucking diet! There are few of us willing to fight, and you collect these golden seeds for what? Fiends! You guide them into your infantile playground, where they are taught that all we need to do in order to save the planet is wasting our blessed time in futile forgoings, such as longing for a roast beef.
#
Leading people into the belief that boycotting meat will solve things is preposterous. It is criminal! Reducing people’s capacity to fight by giving them a social religion that turns recycling into prayer and donation into tithing is wrong. You cannot make people feel ok about themselves as the world around us burn. Just look around! The rivers are poisoned, the smoke rises and the buildings fall. People must fight!
People must get mad, first, so they will be eager to do the things that really matters--and that is what we do. We take action.
You, members of the World Vegetarians organization, take away from the individuals their desire for revolution and their ability to engage combat. You canalize these feelings into a bunch of useless, fairytale crap--the same way religion exploits the good intentions of a population, turning them into a bunch of humble, humiliated slaves.
You teach this people that by staging insignificant personal behaviors they are actually doing what is necessary and that, after becoming vegetarians, they do not need to think about revolting any longer. Your organization has been considered harmful, and the kidnapping of your leader is actually a good deed by your own standards.
We are not open to negotiation and we do not ask for a ransom. We simply want your group to dismember. It will not be a great loss.
You are nothing more than silly dreamers and amateurs--there is no point in keeping a conglomerate of these.
We are true revolutionaries. Actually, not revolutionaries; this word has already lost its monster-like significance. They ripped it out of its true meaning, so that old fighters could have their stamp sold as another market-related, harmless products to satisfy people’s rebellion desire.
The proper word to describe our potential is not revolution, but terrorism. This is what the Machine reports to be fighting against, so that is exactly who we are.
We will not seat upon your asses and read nutritional information out of colored packs--suspecting soups and risotto, insanely looking of any traces of Rennet or gelatin, as if they were the true enemies--while the whole world collapses at our feet.
We act and we fight, and we have a wise knife.
#
We want those among you who share our honest rage against the Machine o join our cause. And we know they will eventually come to us, as soon as we release them from the clutches of these deceiving fantasies you create. We need these soldiers, and we do understand that simply dismembering your group will not help. They could simply join any other (or none) and keep this vegetarian nonsense till their dying day; and that is why we needed your leader. We are prepared to create a counterpoint which will release our brothers.
#
Our organization has planned in silence for many years. We do not want to call attention to ourselves. We do not want special products or any other type of insecurity driven social self-imposed status.
We waited patiently. During these long, productive years we have done much and said nothing.
Concerning particularly this vegetarian problem, it is time for you all to know that we have infiltrated strategic targets of your food industry.
In the specific cell under my supervision, the youngest generation of our silent warriors spent almost their whole lifes among plants. I, myself, and my two immediate managers come from so deep in Brazilian forests that the simple fact of living in a modern city--in order to finally set our candles on fire--feels immoral and oppressive. We are not afraid to sacrifice our very lives; none of us!
And by now we have huge farms; we have gigantic crops and we know everything about them.
Needless to say that this ability to sacrifice and this knowledge about what we do granted us a top position among the vegan/vegetarian market. In a way that (through your own reasoning) as long as you keep this foolish lifestyle, maybe you are no longer supporting the farmers who abuse animals--but you are supporting us!
You have funded the very kidnapping of your leader and many other revolutionary acts that will be developed in order to force the potentially active population out of their alienating contention cells.
We are rising and you will help us, one way or the other.
Please, do not be too sensitive about it. We live in a harsh world--you must understand that. If you see a snake ready to bite you, will you not kill it? To live in a harsh world, but as free, enlightened Men!
Your leader, it feels appropriate to say, is being treated with great hospitality and he even gained some weight.
He does not know it yet, but he is destined to provide us with further enlightenment, as he is about to find the same end of all our vegan/vegetarian strategic targets:
We will eat him.
RAGTFTP|JPNRDC
(Red Alert Group--Through Freedom we will have True Peace!
Jonathan Pearce, Neal Richman and Douglas Cassady)
martes, 29 de abril de 2008
ehh....
yo no tengo reflexiones improtantes, ni novedades confirmadas, ni nada de eso. tampoco quiero decir nada relevante (como siempre) pero queria dejar constancia de mi existencia y de las ganas que tengo de volver a ver cosas copadas en este blogg del orrrrrto.
....sino, tendre que proceder a mearlos.
Helartista
(artista extremo)
(artista enfermo)
sábado, 5 de abril de 2008
MASS MEDIA
De los medios de comunicación
en este mundo tan codificado
con internet y otras navegaciones
yo sigo prefiriendo
el viejo beso artesanal
que desde siempre comunica tanto
Lo escribió Benedetti y lo posteo yo para compartirlo con vosotros..
Hay que besarse más!
Ya lo dijo Galán!
Sinchán
viernes, 21 de marzo de 2008
Me fui
Aunque quisiera festejar con todos ustedes (sin guiris de por medio), esa misma noche me voy a Madrid porque me mola hacer trámites, pero el sábado ya estaré de vuelta y pretendo hacer una movida recepcionalmente única, donde no se borre ningun garca, ni ningún turno ni nungún hostal sea excluido (que trabajen los jefes,coño!), ni que sea muy caro porque todavía no encontre trabajo, en donde en armonia, opdamos celebrar el simple hecho de CAMBIAR.
Vayamos viendo que hongo y ya veremos que surje.
Helartista
(En pleno subidón 100%)




