Wednesday, March 14, 2012
Sunday, February 12, 2012
try a little tenderness
También un segundo rasgo característico del "Manierismo" encontraremos en la personalidad y la obra de Guevara: el vivir dialécticamente, el vivir en continua tensión entre dos polos extremos de la existencia, el vivir con la conciencia siempre despierta del antagonismo perenne entre dos “realidades” opuestas, el mundo de la “Corte”, símbolo de la vida profana, artificial y falsa, y el mundo de la “Aldea”, imagen de la vida a la vez natural y espiritual; el vivir—y escribir—anhelando constantemente la “Aldea”, sin poder—ni querer—desprenderse de la “Corte” y hasta gozando intelectualmente, y desplegando una continua sutilísima dilucidación, esta situación de hallarse en suspenso entre dos mundos mutuamente incompatibles (Frankl 48-49).
Monday, January 30, 2012
Tuesday, January 17, 2012
Sunday, January 1, 2012
homenaje to the overlapping hilos of time
Tonight Aaron gave me my 2012 horoscope on University Avenue in San Diego. Aaron, you have not offended me. You have delighted me with your gorgeous eyelashes and tipsy sincerity, you are so handsome. These are for you:
Nonadaptation
I was not made to live anywhere except in Paradise.
Such, simply, was my genetic inadaptation.
Here on earth every prick of a rose-thorn changed into a wound.
whenever the sun hid behind a cloud, I grieved.
I pretended to work like others from morning to evening,
but I was absent, dedicated to invisible countries.
For solace I escaped to city parks, there to observe
and faithfully describe flowers and trees, but they changed,
under my hand, into the gardens of Paradise.
I have not loved a woman with my five senses.
I only wanted from her my sister, from before the banishment.
And I respected religion, for on this earth of pain
it was a funereal and a propitiatory song.
--Czeslaw Milosz
wild horses by mazzy star
Nonadaptation
I was not made to live anywhere except in Paradise.
Such, simply, was my genetic inadaptation.
Here on earth every prick of a rose-thorn changed into a wound.
whenever the sun hid behind a cloud, I grieved.
I pretended to work like others from morning to evening,
but I was absent, dedicated to invisible countries.
For solace I escaped to city parks, there to observe
and faithfully describe flowers and trees, but they changed,
under my hand, into the gardens of Paradise.
I have not loved a woman with my five senses.
I only wanted from her my sister, from before the banishment.
And I respected religion, for on this earth of pain
it was a funereal and a propitiatory song.
--Czeslaw Milosz
wild horses by mazzy star
Saturday, December 17, 2011
love letter to an anonymous future lover written on october 23, 2001 in iowa city
Darling,
Do you think--no. You must not think you are the only person who feels lonely. Like an overlooked genius far from her temperate climate. No. We are not the only people who find it difficult moving around in our skin, trying to make our own skin adapt to this stupid new world. Can't do that though. Here, our skin is the only thing we have--the only thing we share a story with. We can't recreate it. That would be suicide. No, we don't have the only aching arms or the only cold pillows or the only inside jokes between ourselves and ourselves. We aren't the only ones who daydream.
Love,
J.F.
Do you think--no. You must not think you are the only person who feels lonely. Like an overlooked genius far from her temperate climate. No. We are not the only people who find it difficult moving around in our skin, trying to make our own skin adapt to this stupid new world. Can't do that though. Here, our skin is the only thing we have--the only thing we share a story with. We can't recreate it. That would be suicide. No, we don't have the only aching arms or the only cold pillows or the only inside jokes between ourselves and ourselves. We aren't the only ones who daydream.
Love,
J.F.
Tuesday, December 6, 2011
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