2011 Resolutions

Posted by Mrs. Kite | Posted in , , | Posted on Friday, December 31, 2010


I somehow can't find [in the blog] my last year's resolutions. I'll take that as a sign, to stop thinking of my stupid resolutions I never achieve, and to stop the rant about not achieving them...
Take that as my first two resolutions. Also, we had the resolution-chat with my cousins, so I better write them before I forget them, anyways...
-Better time admin (oh please!)
-Achieve reading resolution-resolution.
-Don't fall behind on my studying. (hear that post in the past?, *cough* Molecular Biology *cough*)
-Do sports.
-Find lab. (Molecular Physiology, perhaps?)
-Get to play something cool in the piano. (post in the past, remember 'wheels')

Goodbye, see you next year (or hopefully DURING the year, [i'm being optimistic] )

The penguin monologues, again

Posted by I'm the penguin | Posted in | Posted on Thursday, December 30, 2010


This year ends, it was a year of many decisions. And it had some consequences. But I guess that's just how life is. We shouldn't really try to use the new year as an excuse for a fresh start, every day is a fresh start with a million possibilities. But if I continue on that point I'd be heavily biting my tongue (not sure that works in english).

I do like what happened last year. Many new things happened for the first time, other old things ended. But what I guess happened the most was, the things I like were kept. There was some level of certainty on all of these decisions. Even if I established 2010 would be the year of uncertainty, I went to my control freak ways.

But you know what? Saying this year I'll be completely reckless and random seems stupid. I won't. I'll just effing try. Saying things I'm not sure of, riding my bike to forbidden places, admitting to crimes I didn't commit, letting myself by corrupted, lying and name calling. Or maybe just some plain boring year. Who knows?

I'll just live in a no regret policy, not anymore anyway.

Oh uncertainty, you cold hearted bitch, how I love you.

From the music collection: Eu Sei Que Vou Te Amar

Posted by Mrs. Kite | Posted in , , | Posted on Wednesday, December 29, 2010


I have some sort of music collection (if you want to call it that way) and basically, when I like a song very much, I try to gather different versions of it.

Eu Sei Que Vou Te Amar
is a canção by Vinícius de Moraes and Tom Jobim.

Eu sei que vou te amar
Por toda a minha vida
Eu vou te amar
A cada despedida
Eu vou te amar
Eu sei que vou te amar

E cada verso meu será
Prá te dizer
Que eu sei que vou te amar
Por toda a minha vida

Eu sei que vou chorar
A cada ausência tua eu vou chorar
Mas cada volta tua há de apagar
O que essa tua ausência me causou

Eu sei que vou sofrer
A eterna desventura de viver
À espera de viver ao lado teu
Por toda a minha vida

Here are three of my favorite versions:
Adriana Calcanhoto

Caetano Veloso (classic, classic)

Bebo y Cigala, different, yet amazing

B&S and K

Posted by I'm the penguin | Posted in | Posted on Tuesday, December 28, 2010


Dearest Mrs. Kite, you've insisted.
That I get into the Belle and Sebastian Wagon. Well, you finally made it, while not a fan, I know really enjoy.


Come on sister, tell me about all about your men and your hopes and the hours of your life.
You are my girl, and you don't even know it, and you're the funny little frog in my throat.

Don't touch me, if you touch me we can NEVER GO BACK!

So thank you dearest K

Meat is murder

Posted by Mrs. Kite | Posted in | Posted on Monday, December 27, 2010


This week I believe, I celebrate my second year of not eating mammals.
And for once I have the right to do shameless propaganda on it.
I try not to talk about my motives, unless I'm asked to. Mainly because people often get all defensive and weird about it, as if telling them you choose not to eat red meat makes you a better person, and usually gives a bad impression of the pretentious-yoga-poser-bastard you might be...
(I don't do yoga, I hope I'm not a bastard, and I might be pretentious, but that's subject for another post)
I can't say being vegetarian or similar makes you a better person, but I do think it might make you a better eco-friendly-person (if you wish to make that kind of nomenclature [yes yes you can slap me] )
So, if you are interested, it's time for the propaganda, (if you aren't, then that's OK [you selfish bastard, you should at least read it] xD)

¿Un día sin carne?
It's an article published in ¿cómo ves? (Revista de Divulgación de la Ciencia de la UNAM)

Meat consumption trends and health: casting a wider risk assessment net (from The Australian National University)


Posted by I'm the penguin | Posted in | Posted on Sunday, December 26, 2010


Roses are red

Violets are purple

And Pantone C 110 is yellow.

My love for design is bigger than the RGB complex

( Trying the -cute little post- concept...)

So this was christmas

Posted by Mrs. Kite | Posted in | Posted on Saturday, December 25, 2010


So that was Christmas
and what have I done?
another year over? (damn)
and a new one just begun (sigh)

And so this was Christmas
I kinda had fun
the near and the dear ones
the old and the young old... (?)

A very Merry Christmas
and a happy New Year
let's hope it's a good one
filled with fear (the good old fear)

Fear moves a big part of me, the terrible part of fear is the freeze after the fear, but sometimes, only sometimes, fear manages to take out the best of us... the whole thing about the fight or flight response, I think...

Dearest Gifts

Posted by I'm the penguin | Posted in | Posted on Friday, December 24, 2010


Oh dear christmas, I could say so much about you. About your cultural paradoxes, about your weather, about your effect on human relations, and so on. But let's be honest, in the western world, ever since we're little the only thing that has mattered about Christmas was... the gifts. What else is there to family reunions anyway?

Anyway... What else can someone ask for Christmas?

And of course, a new camera to take the pictures...

Master Cohen

Posted by Mrs. Kite | Posted in , | Posted on Thursday, December 23, 2010


I've posted something about Cohen, but it goes like this, the fourth, the fifth...
I'm Your Man, a classic...

No desalojas, imbécil

Posted by I'm the penguin | Posted in | Posted on Wednesday, December 22, 2010


Vives en un hogar sin paredes, solo techo.
Y sin limites golpeas el suelo con marchas metálicas
adornas todo con tu precencia y el recuerdo a tu.
Habitas allí sin pagar renta ni angustia,
sucede que ese espacio es mi mente,
y te rehusas al desalojo.

Te veo y me ves, saludos efímeros que me duran una vida.
Y me siguen, y me retuerce pensar
que no fue más que una mirada de reojo.

Cuando me acerco, tus defectos se turnan evidentes,
y estúpidamente adorables.
Tus gestos, tu figura, tu sonrisa torcida,
forman parte de un repertorio de manías
que memorizo y guardo para los días grises.

Llego a considerar que no es sano imaginar
en tus comos y tus porques tanto como lo hago.
Discutimos por horas del universo y sus misterios,
me cuentas de tus aspiraciones infantiles por el oceáno
y yo te confieso mis aventuras en el anonimato.
Las miradas no se despegan y las respiraciones se hacen cortas.
Termina en un ruido a calle y un yunque al estómago.
Me comienzo a cansar de que nuestras conversaciones
solo ocurran en mi cabeza.

Y esque ante ti, cualquier palabra que indique ligeras sinápsis, me elude.
Todo se dedica a contemplarte.

¿Qué tan ridículo es esto?

The Boss

Posted by Mrs. Kite | Posted in | Posted on Tuesday, December 21, 2010


I will now live according to this wise, wise sauce.

[via: frkncngz]

Lease bajo su propio riesgo

Posted by I'm the penguin | Posted in | Posted on Monday, December 20, 2010


Era esto precisamente, lograr la suspensión de la incredulidad y conseguir que el lector entrase en su juego.

Que las manchas de sangre en el vestido de Penélope pudieran olerse al acariciar la fibra celulosa contra el pulgar y la zozobra.

Hacer que sin titubear, una aceleración atacara al miocardio y la respiración faltara, solo palabras que se hacían reales como el trueno que rompe al aire.

Las páginas se voltean solas y se está seguro que el clac clac clac del maletín de aquella figura macabra no tardará en sonar detras; del jardín, de la cocina, de la conciencia, en cualquier momento.

Se pierde la cordura y discernimeinto. Ya no es cuestión de seguir la trama o deconstruir segun Derridá, ahora las uñas buscan surcos donde apuntalarse y la mente huye a planes de fuga futil.

Y el lector ya no lee si no es leido, una vez dentro, no le queda más que esperar al frío momento donde sus miedos se precipiten del aire, y sienta las manos escamosas aproximarse a su vientre y en un golpe del destino le extraiga viceras, recuerdos, nervios y todo.

Entonces el juego habrá terminado. Y el lector también.

No, really, don't stop the music...

Posted by Mrs. Kite | Posted in , | Posted on Sunday, December 19, 2010


I accept that (being the indie poser I probably am) I am too judgamental towards commercial music, but then, I find things like this:

Books and people

Posted by I'm the penguin | Posted in | Posted on Saturday, December 18, 2010


There are two things everyone says to be the more the better: meeting people, and reading books. (I'm sure you could come up with many more, but this is a PG-rated blog)

And there's some truth in it, to be cultured and learn about the world, its ideas, events and misinterpretations one has to read many, many books. And the same goes for people, to learn and edify yourself completely, you need to grab chunks out of everyone you meet.

But, as always, I have a problem with this. You see, here books are like people, right? The more you come in contact with the better?

Well, excuse me but that's bullshit.

While it's true that you need to read a little bit of everything to know, you aren't going to read the entire self-improvement bookshelf just so you're cultured (yes that's culture too, sadly). You're not going to learn all about astrology, or sparkly vampires or any of that sort (if that's your cup of tea, i don't judge). You're just going to read the good stuff, the things people you consider smart recommend you. So you start developing your own taste and begin to choose yourself what kind of books you want to read, which kind of culture you want to take in. Now, I'm aware of the attention bias I'm implying, but let's forget that for the analogy's sake.

But people are not like that. To begin with, it's not as easy to meet someone as picking up a book, the book will not ever have awkward silences. Also, there's no way you can know who to meet, I mean when the 1000 people you need to meet before you die comes out, believe me, I'll be the first to buy it. But meanwhile what is one supposed to do? Meet tons of people, filter them out and just keep the ones you liked?

Well, Fuck that. I don't have to read all the books in the shelf to know I'll probably just read 10 or 15. Yea, that must be one of the most asocial things I've said, but it holds true, what's the point on meeting all the Mayan Calendar 2012-s, the How to think like a man and still be a lady-s and cheap thrillers, when I can simply go to the Vonneguts and Kunderas and Cortazars?


The trick is telling them apart from the rest.

And make them want to meet you too.

So is the present, for that matter

Posted by Mrs. Kite | Posted in , , | Posted on Friday, December 17, 2010


I think this is my favorite Of Montreal song, so far:

The past is a grotesque animal
And in its eyes you see
How completely wrong you can be
How completely wrong you can be

The sun is out, it melts the snow that fell yesterday
Makes you wonder why it bothered

I fell in love with the first cute girl that I met
Who could appreciate Georges Bataille
Standing at Swedish festival discussing "Story of the Eye"
Discussing "Story of the Eye"

It's so embarrassing to need someone like I do you
How can I explain, I need you here and not here too
How can I explain, I need you here and not here too

I'm flunking out, I'm flunking out, I'm gone, I'm just gone
But at least I author my own disaster
At least I author my own disaster

Performance breakdown and I don't want to hear it
I'm just not available
Things could be different but they're not
Things could be different but they're not

The mousy girl screams, "Violence! Violence!"
The mousy girl screams, "Violence! Violence!"
She gets hysterical because they're both so mean
And it's my favorite scene
But the cruelty's so predictable
It makes you sad on the stage
Though our love project has so much potential
But it's like we weren't made for this world
(Though I wouldn't really want to meet someone who was)

Do I have to scream in your face?
I've been dodging lamps and vegetables
Throw it all in my face, I don't care

Let's just have some fun
Let's tear this shit apart
Let's tear the fucking house apart
Let's tear our fucking bodies apart
But let's just have some fun

Somehow you've red-rovered the gestapo circling my heart
And nothing can defeat you
No death, no ugly world

You've lived so brightly
You've altered everything
I find myself searching for old selves
While speeding forward through the plate glass of maturing cells

I've played the unraveler, the parhelion
But even apocalypse is fleeting
There's no death, no ugly world

Sometimes I wonder if you're mythologizing me like I do you
Mythologizing me like I do you

We want our film to be beautiful, not realistic
Perceive me in the radiance of terror dreams
And you can betray me
You can, you can betray me

But teach me something wonderful
Crown my head, crowd my head
With your lilting effects
Project your fears on to me, I need to view them
See, there's nothing to them
I promise you, there's nothing to them

I'm so touched by your goodness
You make me feel so criminal
How do you keep it together?
I'm all, all unraveled

But you know, no matter where we are
We're always touching by underground wires

I've explored you with the detachment of an analyst
But most nights we've raided the same kingdoms
And none of our secrets are physical
None of our secrets are physical
None of our secrets are physical now

and some 'new alphabet' writing, incomprehensible new alphabet.

Black bird fields

Posted by I'm the penguin | Posted in | Posted on Thursday, December 16, 2010


Singing at the death of night


Posted by Mrs. Kite | Posted in | Posted on Wednesday, December 15, 2010


I am not there,
no wait, I am.

Fotos defectuosas

Posted by I'm the penguin | Posted in | Posted on Tuesday, December 14, 2010


De paseo encontré...

Al angel de la independencia (económica?)

Así que ¿aquí estuvo escondida todo este tiempo?

Toda ciudad debería tener de estos (no, no un metro, una señal de escapatoria)


Posted by Mrs. Kite | Posted in | Posted on Monday, December 13, 2010


This is, I am sure (I AM), the worst picture I've ever taken of something I like. But I wanted that internet lowRes effect, nothing to do with the fact that my webcam sucks.

This is, VOYAGE, Indian Chai tea by Twinings.
It's just delicious, you have to try it someday.
It's not that expensive, and it is totally worth it.

About geography and gods

Posted by I'm the penguin | Posted in | Posted on Sunday, December 12, 2010


There's this imaginary article I once read. It was an essay discussing how religions were at first shaped by the geographic surrounding of the culture where it developed. It is somewhat obvious that the geographic circumstances alter the lives of the human populations, given that the way of living is determined by it, how easy is to get water, food, shelter, which resources can they trade. But it would also be important to notice that these things are the bases of a culture, and thus of its costumes, traditions and of course, their religion. And so, in a way it is a cycle, there the environment shapes the culture of the populations, and later the populations shape the environment in the way their culture in conformed.

In regions with vast biodiversity and rich in natural resources there was a common occurrence of animal-like deities, as well as a wider conscience of nature and respect towards the environment. This can be seen in India, America, east Asia, central Africa and so on. Their ancient cultures (previous to colonization) were based on natural deities, and in general there is a deep concern in those cultures towards the well being of the environment, because having so much abundance, the human populations developed a strong bond. Also, it opened their perspective towards the world, noticing, perhaps, how small is the human kind compared to a rich natural surrounding, thus making these cultures not very anthropocentric.

Not very? Compared to who, you may ask.

Well, now let's talk about arid regions. Focusing our gaze on the middle East. The natural conditions are very arid, there's no considerable biodiversity, civilizations developed even in scarcity. Deities developed to be very human-like, perhaps, because there was not many other things to see. Also, there wasn't such a strong bond towards the environment because it wasn't very favorable, they got no blessings from the earth. Instead they had to survive on their own merit, domesticating the feedstock and farming. It is simple to understand how would they rather favor and worship human like figures, since it was themselves who provided with the wealth. Giving this circumstances we can observe a more clear anthropocentric view of the world.

Just observe religions in the Middle East, they are rather anthropocentric, without many regards to their environment or strong bonds to nature.

So what happens next? Civilizations expand, trade begins, cultural cross breeding begins and eventually, due to special circumstances and political interests the ruling empire spreads throughout the western world the new edition of Judaism (religion first developed in the Middle East)

Fast forward some thousands of years, now the western world is ruled by Christianity and economic development, the ideas surround everything that implies development, development, development. (Of whom?). There's not point in denying western culture is very anthropocentric, and getting a tad honest, individualistic. Now, of course I'm not crediting all of our culture to religion, that'd be a paradox, but there's something to it. But back to our current culture of self centered individuals, we have to admit that in no other way could we sustain a system that allows such environmental exploitation and inequity without being outraged every other day.

But anyway, it's been long since those mythical times where spirits cohabited with humans and legends were born. Yet, this religion thing, being a cultural trait, could not possible remain static, even if some people wished so. We have huge changes, and I would love to tell you about many examples that I know of, but I don't really. I can just tell you that in general we can observe that cultures have adapted their many interpretations of religion according to their previous history, their socio-economic and politic background and so on.

Let's just observe Mexico for a second. Virgen de Guadalupe, dia de muertos, nacimientos navideños. It's all some chaotic kitsch-melange of precolumbine-revolutionary-western Christianity concepts. And let's not even start with the Santa Muerte, a figure made for those who can't ask help from Jesus or V. de Guadalupe, because the endeavors are illegal. Even outlaws need their saints.

These are all changes we need to make to our gods so they fit us right. That's why as they say, people always have the government they deserve, but also the god. Our need for greater significance and feeling there's something bigger and better is there, we can't deny it. But will we let it rule our culture, once being able to see that we affect out gods more than they affect us? Or will it still be easier to just nod and pray?

Doble o nada.

Posted by Mrs. Kite | Posted in | Posted on Saturday, December 11, 2010


y que dice de nuevo Joaquín Sabina

DOBLE O NADA | Joaquín Sabina
Doble o nada a la carta más urgente
sin código, ni tribu, ni proyecto,
mi futuro es pretérito imperfecto,
mi pasado nostalgia del presente.

No tengo más verdad que la que arrasa
corrigiendo las lindes de mis venas.
Por diseñar castillos sin almenas
perdí, otra vez, las llaves de mi casa.

Veranos de buen vino y mala sombra,
de confundir enanos con molinos,
de viajar al abismo con alfombra.

Es hora de volver a la autopista
por donde van, burlando sus destinos,
el zángano, el adúltero, el ciclista

de ciento volando de catorce


Posted by I'm the penguin | Posted in | Posted on Friday, December 10, 2010


I'm not entirely sure of what's this.
A web of thoughts, I'd guess.

But I'd be wrong.

Nostalgia, indeed.

Posted by Mrs. Kite | Posted in | Posted on Thursday, December 09, 2010


I've posted a couple things about tango.
My life-time neighbors are tango lovers, and I remember the guitar playing and dramatic yet funny singing during the afternoon. Take that and add it to my mother's love for flamenco, and you get this:

Quiero emborrachar mi corazón
para apagar un loco amor
que más que amor es un sufrir...
Y aquí vengo para eso,
a borrar antiguos besos
en los besos de otras bocas...
Si su amor fue "flor de un día"
¿porqué causa es siempre mía
esa cruel preocupación?
Quiero por los dos mi copa alzar
para olvidar mi obstinación
y más la vuelvo a recordar.

de escuchar su risa loca
y sentir junto a mi boca
como un fuego su respiración.
de sentirme abandonado
y pensar que otro a su lado
pronto... pronto le hablará de amor...
Yo no quiero rebajarme,
ni pedirle, ni llorarle,
ni decirle que no puedo más vivir...
Desde mi triste soledad veré caer
las rosas muertas de mi juventud.

Gime, bandoneón, tu tango gris,
quizá a ti te hiera igual
algún amor sentimental...
Llora mi alma de fantoche
sola y triste en esta noche,
noche negra y sin estrellas...
Si las copas traen consuelo
aquí estoy con mi desvelo
para ahogarlos de una vez...
Quiero emborrachar mi corazón
para después poder brindar
por los fracasos del amor

Nostalgias, performed by Diego El Cigala

Peeping owl

Posted by I'm the penguin | Posted in | Posted on Wednesday, December 08, 2010


Watch out for the forest owls at night,
myth says they can see into your soul,
will you like what they'll see?

Desktop Diaries: Oliver Sacks

Posted by Mrs. Kite | Posted in , | Posted on Tuesday, December 07, 2010


I want company, even if it's inorganic.

About identity crisis.

Posted by I'm the penguin | Posted in | Posted on Monday, December 06, 2010


I've been donating time to observe the misinterpretations that make me me.
and there, I've also remembered Jorge, I think I introduced you some time ago.
the adventure-less kid who imagined the world surrounding him.

Yes, he's a fictional character.

Anyway. About the question of "Who are we?"

The person everyone else makes up by their experiences, and in all a collective character. Build by what others observe of you, and so, the timeless character that will outlive you, the one that belongs to the social construction and others


The secret that lays in the dark, when nobody else sees. The person you allow yourself to be when there's no one around, and all the little details and masks and thoughts and clouds and flavors that make it what it is. The person only you will ever get to know completely


According to I'm the peguin, we're both. It's rather impossible to separate them, for they are conjoined twin concepts that transform each other, connected by the heart and supported by language, social convention and spit.

But that's not really today's question.

What matters to me today, is that the second one, our own person, we can't really change. We build it daily, but it is what it is. The first one, we build it daily too, but we can actually make it different every time we want, we just borrow some more or less traits we like or not. What I mean is that, this first personality, the one other people form, is silly putty. Seriously, you only need to meet new people to make an entire different person who will live in their memories.

But at the end, when living the most honest of lives, the person you show is just some sort of lobby for the real thing. It is the easiest just to leave it as a previous room, with nothing but some old furniture and an inaccurate trailer of what the real thing is.

Where I'm going at, is that, while we can change so easily the exterior, it is rather tiring, at least for me, to become a whole different person, for long. So how does one do the change if one wants a life turning point?
How do change the exterior so much without messing the interior?

How do you go around changing people's perception of you when the way you see yourself is static and oh, so very fucking different from the public opinion? How can one kill one character, insert a replacement and hope people not to notice the difference?

This is probably just a rant. But think about it.

Elephant Gun

Posted by Mrs. Kite | Posted in | Posted on Sunday, December 05, 2010


If I was young, I'd flee this town
As did I, we drink to die
We drink tonight

I'd bury my dreams underground
Far from home, elephant gun
Let's take them down one by one
We'll lay it down, it's not been found

Let the seasons begin
It's not around
It rolls right on
Let the seasons begin
Take the big king down

And it rips through the silence
Of our camp at night
And it rips through the night

Beirut-Elephant Gun

Eyes rolling at night

Posted by I'm the penguin | Posted in | Posted on Saturday, December 04, 2010


For no special reason I liked these.
Please don't think I'm just trying to fill a post with random photos I took.
Not that it wouldn't be true, just don't think so.


Now... this doesn't really go with the rest, but, you know, when improvising you can't be too group-concious conscious. (yes, that's an analogous statement, giving this post some sort of ideological content. that's how I'm the penguin roll...)

Notebook whore

Posted by Mrs. Kite | Posted in | Posted on Friday, December 03, 2010


I have to accept, with shame, that I am a complete and utter notebook whore. A notebook whore and a player too.
I keep buying notebooks, mainly small ones. I promise to love them and cherish them, but in the end my statements turn out to be a load of crap. It's not even that I lose them, I just forget them, or become scared of them. I have lots of notebooks around my house, and my apartment for that matter.
But, it is also important to say that I'm not a stupid notebook whore. I have a lot of respect for some special notebooks, they all have a near and dear place in my heart, but still, I do not want to waste those precious pages on rants (like this one). [thought: maybe that's why I love the fields that much, because even if it is available to the world [except china maybe] there's way more freedom sometimes] So my notebooks are waiting, for the right moment.
Lets hope 2011 is a year, not of chastity at all, but of lots of notebook commitment and love.
Write on!

Bye bye can

Posted by I'm the penguin | Posted in | Posted on Thursday, December 02, 2010


My Canon just died.
Actually it dies in a near future, but, I'm posting it now.
We had our moments, but all and all it was a very great camera. I loved it.

And in its final hour, she was able to whisper some final words of artsyness.

A Dog

Posted by Mrs. Kite | Posted in | Posted on Wednesday, December 01, 2010


-Why would you? You are only a dog.
-Don't call me that way.
-But, you are... Woof!
-Woof! Grrr!

Desk secret

Posted by I'm the penguin | Posted in | Posted on Tuesday, November 30, 2010


It's all about having a moleskine, and a place where you can place it. I guess.

Brick and Sebastian

Posted by Mrs. Kite | Posted in , | Posted on Monday, November 29, 2010


This is, just too awesome to be true.
This guy, Christoph! has something with Belle and Sebastian and Legos, which is just AWESOME.
Visit the whole gallery, it's worth it. Here are some of my favorites:

Socially awkward penguin

Posted by I'm the penguin | Posted in | Posted on Sunday, November 28, 2010


Being an internet entity as I am, I know my way around memes.
I wasn't very aware of this, but there was no way I could let it go unnoticed.
Being as it is.

As if it was specially made for the occasion...
(All made by message-boarders, but complied by Street couch)

Oh, the light.

Posted by Mrs. Kite | Posted in , | Posted on Saturday, November 27, 2010


Generally I love light. As in, it is very peculiar and interesting. But... BUT, sometimes our use of light makes me a giant squid of anger.

Stumbled IV

Posted by I'm the penguin | Posted in | Posted on Friday, November 26, 2010


Again, hurried by the impatience of time, and the frustration of how all this, too, shall pass. I give you again some pieces of internet I've found. Food for the soul I'd say.

It can.

Posted by Mrs. Kite | Posted in | Posted on Thursday, November 25, 2010


Alphonse Mucha

Posted by I'm the penguin | Posted in | Posted on Wednesday, November 24, 2010


I made a post about Magritte's work some days ago, and explained I like it so much mainly because of the ideological content. Now I want to share another artist. Alphonse Mucha. His main work is doing posters, in an art nouveau current with "utilitarian" art. His posters feature beautiful women surrounded by nature and flowers. Honestly, I don't believe there's much to it, but I just love the bi-dimensional, almost vectorial design he makes, and how much intensity it acquires by being so simple.

Let me show you

I truly enjoy this particular one because of my mystical background. Growing up as a kid I was very much into all the esoteric, mystical, mythical and magical. And this poster would have taken my breath away, the soft and even subtle beauty that comes from her eyes. The ornamentation, yet achieving a weird sense of harmony in the whole piece. As if we were seeing the portrait of the queen of all that is magical, ethereal, and righteous.

The there's pieces like this one too

This one's not purposefully esoteric, but it still holds a certain mystical air. They are rather simple drawings, not using many colors and not paying much attention to reality and image depth, it holds a certain beauty that I find sublime. Maybe it's just plain and out there, but I find a subtle appeal to it.

But anyway, just keep clicking away.
To find more punch the next poster

To laugh a little, see this thread-less satirical abomination.(quite funny)

Estos días.

Posted by Mrs. Kite | Posted in | Posted on Tuesday, November 23, 2010


Siento estos días con mas ganas de todo que todas las ganas,
con arrabales encarnados y sangre-vino-tinto.
No ganas de todos, ni tu las ganas todas.
Ganas de uno que pierdo y no lo-siento.... lo siento.

Stumbled III

Posted by I'm the penguin | Posted in | Posted on Monday, November 22, 2010


How will we ever put up to date this blog?
Should I stumble it upon?

Sure, why not?

(No special theme, just images I liked)

You owe to like at least one, or see yourself reflected at the very least.

Scent of... tango

Posted by Mrs. Kite | Posted in | Posted on Sunday, November 21, 2010


I've written before about wanting to dance tango. And about youtube and stuff.
So, next year...
I thing time has come to do something about it.

Letter from the past

Posted by I'm the penguin | Posted in | Posted on Saturday, November 20, 2010


Dearest Kite, do you remember 3 years ago, we made a letter to our future selves?
Do you remember when we were even younger and MORE foolish?

It is kind of a nice thought to see how much I've matured, how much I've dealt with stuff I feared to do back then. It is also kind of cute to see how naive you really were compared to what you now have seen and done.

The problems are very different now, the anxieties and teenage angst has nothing to do now than from back then. I always assume I'm changing, but once you see an example of what reality was back then, it is really eye opening, I suppose.

I was just curious dearest Kite (and D, and rest of the reading family) have you read your letter? Who was that teenager? Were her hopes of the future futile? Did it turned out to be just as expected or even better?

What can the present tell you about your past future?

Mine tells me I'm a more complete person now. I've faced many of the monsters in the closet, so to say. And I'm definitely much more satisfied with my life now than I used to be, even if that is hard to believe...

Now I'm just thinking about the future, will I look back and see the actual present as a silly dark time? Perhaps, I can just hope the uncertainty will favor me (us).

Water and Slowmo

Posted by Mrs. Kite | Posted in | Posted on Friday, November 19, 2010


Slow motion.
I would spend lots of money on a decent camera.


Posted by I'm the penguin | Posted in | Posted on Thursday, November 18, 2010


I was playing with my mind toys as I do, playing inexistent movies in my head of possible futures, rotating ideas about the atom, the thought and everything in between, thinking about how awesome is to be young and restless. Playing like a child. And then came the blond salesman.

The blond salesman is an old acquaintance, who's actually a friend, but for dramatic purposes he shall remain an acquaintance. He became tall last summer and is blond, the blond salesman. And he sells things. At times.

And so I was playing with my toys, wearing my oberols, and singing about how super fantastic was to be me, so witty and dramatic and full of unexpected ideas.
(I was in the living room, the light was yellow and some dim smoke gave the ethereal sense of meaning to my purposeless playing. Light come from above, then the door of the living room is knocked)

(MOTHER appears from behind the curtains)

MOTHER: Who could possibly be that?

(I shrugs)

(MOTHER opens the door and there he is, THE BLOND SALESMAN. White light covers THE BLOND SALESMAN for all the audience to see him as he poses, his hair shines as he fixes his tie)

MOTHER: Sweetheart! Come say hi!

( I leaves his toys and runs to his oddity vault and gets out a tie with plastic holder, I slips it into the oberols and then walks shyly to the entrance)

I: Hi, how are you?

THE BLOND SALESMAN: Fine kiddo, how about you?

(I & THE BLOND SALESMAN start a conversation about decisions, while I tells his experience as if it was ground-breaking and the most interesting of things THE BLOND SALESMAN listens with attention and nods every few sentences. I keeps talking because he knows the entire audience is amazed by his tales)
(Voice from the back is heard, light illuminates I as to show it's his voice)

I'S VOICE: THE BLOND SALESMAN is so simple, I like him, there's so much I can teach him, but of course just to a certain point, because I'm me, and well he's he

(And so I concludes his story and takes a cookie from the cookie jar. THE BLOND SALESMAN has a notebook where he's taking note of whatever stupid information I just gave. Then MOTHER proceeds to ask about THE BLOND SALESMAN's life, and so he begins narrating)

(Light now illuminate THE BLOND SALESMAN and the light of the rest of the room is slowly fading)

THE BLOND SALESMAN: -gibberish about school- but I haven't rested in a long time -gibberish about having a job, doing great at it and having big responsibilities- sure it seems hard, but i manage -gibberish that states he's clearly a grown-up, having responsibilities, people depending on him and getting by by his own means- but you know, that's life.

(When the room is the darkest, the actor of I is changed from being a 5 year old in oberlos eating a cookie, to a 20 year old man with tight oberols eating a cookie. The lights turn on in the room, revealing the now changed I. I begins to see himself, all chocolate dirty from the cookie and with unfitting clothes. He's shown uncomfortable and panicked. So MOTHER begins to talk to I)

MOTHER: When will you start having responsibilities? How old are you anyway and what have you made of your life?

I: But... I'm a philosopher, I... think things beyond all of your comprehensions. (his voice begins to crack)

MOTHER: That's just because of all the free time you've got in your hands

I: I'm a philosopher-scientist and I will not stand a second more of this treatment (he says, crossing his arms and putting a big frown)

THE BLOND SALESMAN: Don't worry, you're really smart, and it's going to be long for you to need to do something for real. How old can you be? Six?

I: Shut up! You're dumb!

MOTHER: Don't be rude, he's clearly superior to you in every single aspect that matters in the real world. He drives, he sales, he's technology savvy, he's even got a girlfriend. You can't even keep a goldfish alive.

(I frowns and begins to cry in the middle of the stage, then throws himself to the floor and sobs with his hands in his face)

(I'M THE PENGUIN appears from behind the lamp, he can't be seen by THE BLOND SALESMAN and MOTHER simply ignores him as he walks to sit besides the 20 year old crying man)

I'M THE PENGUIN: Hey, this is silly and dumb

I: It is ALL silly and dumb! I hate him! He doesn't know it's all silly and dumb, he's even a neoliberalist, he hasn't ever heard of Kierkegaard! I'm special, I'm smart.

I'M THE PENGUIN: Still, this is silly and dumb

I: He's like that because he's been forced to, I'm caged by MOTHER inside this oberols!

I'M THE PENGUIN: Silly and dumb

I: I'm too much into what matters to me: philosophy, science and art, I don't have time for those standard lives. I won't be part of that rotten system! not me!

I'M THE PENGUIN: You're not mad because he's earning money, you're mad because this is silly and dumb

I: Shut up! You're silly and dumb!

I'M THE PENGUIN: He's more mature and has experienced more of life than you've done. He's became a man. You're still a child.

I: Shut up! I hate you! I hate MOTHER! I hate you all!

I'M THE PENGUIN: That's very mature...

(I dries the tears in his eyes and sits down)

I: MOTHER should have never compared us, it hurts.

I'M THE PENGUIN: That's better, still, it's silly and dumb.

I: Maybe I should do more things. Maybe I should start doing more stuff in the material world than in the Imaginarium.

I'M THE PENGUIN: And please loose the oberols, they're SO last two decades.

I: Shut up. You're right, I'm still a child, but just to make MOTHER shut the hell up I'll become a man. Responsible, active and bearded.

I'M THE PENGUIN: You realize you'd be doing it for all the wrong reasons?

I: Is there another way to start? This is not church, I'm not a reborn person.

I'M THE PENGUIN: Come on, let's have some drinks

I: What about the guests?*

(The whole time MOTHER was chatting quietly with THE BLOND SALESMAN, who after the queue* leaves trough the door. MOTHER goes back to the curtain.)

(I stands up and him and I'M THE PENGUIN walk towards the door, they open it up and disappear. The door shuts down on its own. The entire sceen's light fades.)


I'm always in my pajamas.

Posted by Mrs. Kite | Posted in | Posted on Wednesday, November 17, 2010


Of montreal-skeletal and such

Posted by I'm the penguin | Posted in | Posted on Tuesday, November 16, 2010


So, I've been listening to a lot of Of Montreal lately, specially the album Skeletal Lamping, which let me tell you, is a jewel. A little sick perverted jewel that'll raise a brow or two and make you dance and want to become a beautiful dance whore (10 points if you get the reference).

And instead of telling you some introspective of mine written in such a way that nobody could possibly read it, I'll just quote what I've learned from them. Kids, take notes, this could be useful.

I'm the kind of mannequin that cheats and
Opens its eyes to the ladies of the spread

I feel like an accidental species
Some mutant love child never meant to be

Why is it white girls don't ever have any ideas?
And they don't even know what's on my channel
But that is true for almost everyone, everyone but you
My goat, my crab, my scorpion
You're my icons 'cause you're different, you're different
I love wicked wisdom

We can do it softcore if you want,
but you should know I take it both ways

Why am I so damaged, girl?

I asked your friend if you were available
She answered, not but yes, oh well, oh well, yes and no
Now, I'm noting the limits of our parabola
To predict the points of thou-shalt-not-return
This inbreeding of ideas is intolerable

I wanna show you off
I wanna tell you lies
I wanna write you books

I don't want to be your man
I just wanna play with you

I need you here, and not here too
how can I explain? I need you here, and not here too
It's so embarrassing to need someone like I do you
Things could be different
But they're not.

Not that all (or any >.> ) applies to me of course...

Maravillosas ocupaciones

Posted by Mrs. Kite | Posted in , | Posted on Monday, November 15, 2010


I will get this book for christmas.
Mr. Julio Cortázar

Qué maravillosa ocupación cortarle la pata a una araña, ponerla en un sobre, escribir Señor Ministro de Relaciones Exteriores, agregar la dirección, bajar a saltos la escalera, despachar la carta en el correo de la esquina.
Qué maravillosa ocupación ir andando por el bulevar Arago contando los árboles, y cada cinco castaños detenerse un momento sobre un solo pie y esperar que alguien mire, y entonces soltar un grito seco y breve, girar como una peonza, con los brazos bien abiertos, idéntico al ave cakuy que se duele en los árboles del norte argentino.
Qué maravillosa ocupación entrar en un café y pedir azúcar, otra vez azúcar, tres o cuatro veces azúcar, e ir formando un montón en el centro de la mesa, mientras crece la ira en los mostradores y debajo de los delantales blancos, y exactamente en medio del montón de azúcar escupir suavemente, y seguir el descenso del pequeño glaciar de saliva, oír el ruido de piedras rotas que lo acompaña y que nace en las gargantas contraídas de cinco parroquianos y del patrón, hombre honesto a sus horas.
Qué maravillosa ocupación tomar el ómnibus, bajarse delante del Ministerio, abrirse paso a golpes de sobres con sellos, dejar atrás al último secretario y entrar, firme y serio, en el gran despacho de espejos, exactamente en el momento en que un ujier vestido de azul entrega al Ministro una carta, y verlo abrir el sobre con una plegadera de origen histórico, meter dos dedos delicados y retirar la pata de araña, quedarse mirándola, y entonces imitar el zumbido de una mosca y ver cómo el Ministro palidece, quiere tirar la pata pero no puede, está atrapado por la pata, y darle la espalda y salir, silbando, anunciando en los pasillos la renuncia del Ministro, y saber que al día siguiente entrarán las tropas enemigas y todo se irá al diablo y será un jueves de un mes impar de un año bisiesto.

Maravillosas ocupaciones, Julio Cortázar

It's all silly and dumb

Posted by I'm the penguin | Posted in | Posted on Sunday, November 14, 2010


I don't really know why I post about this, but here's a piece of Vonnegut's Jailbird that I personally found amusing. I'm not very sure if the deep content is what I'm figuring it to be, or if It has anything to do with what I think. Just read it and find meaning, if you're willing to.

"I feel so silly," said Sarah.

"You don't believe you're beautiful?" said her grandmother.

"I know I'm beautiful," said Sarah. "I look in a mirror, and I think, 'I'm beautiful.'"

"What's wrong then?" said her grandmother.

"Beautiful is such a funny thing to be," said Sara. "Somebody else is ugly, but I'm beautiful. Walter says I'm beautiful. You say I'm beautiful. I say I'm beautiful. Everybody says, 'Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful,' and you start wondering what it is, and what's so wonderful about it."
"It's so silly," she said. "It's so dumb," she said.

"Perhaps you shouldn't think about it so much," said grandmother.

"That's like telling a midget to stop thinking about being a midget," said Sarah, and she laughed again.

"You should stop saying everything is silly and dumb," said her grandmother.

"Everything is silly and dumb," said Sarah

"You will learn differently as you grow older," her grandmother promised.

"I think everybody older just pretends to know what's going on, and it's all so serious and wonderful," said Sara. "Older people haven't really found out anything new that I don't know. Maybe if people didn't get so serious when they got older,we wouldn't have a depression now"

Isn't it all silly and dumb? Isn't it all so light, so unbearable and non-transcendental? All this social constructions that hold together out little beloved world as we know it, aren't they the most silly and unimportant of things in the universe?

Also, about older people pretending to have answers, that's something I've come to agree with. Growing up I always had all these questions about existence and explanations for things I couldn't understand. Grown-ups seemed to deal with those things just fine, as if it was very clear to them, as if the answers of the universe revealed themselves just with time. They made me believe so.
And you go on thinking that.
Until, of course, you notice that in case they're wondering the same, they've been just as scared and confused as you've been (or worse), they just learn how to ignore it. Or deal with it. The things, I think, is that in the end, we're all just taller children.


And it's dumb... thinking of you like a __________

Sulfuric demon.

Posted by Mrs. Kite | Posted in | Posted on Saturday, November 13, 2010


-“Es el olor del demonio.”
-“En absoluto, está comprobado que el demonio tiene propiedades sulfúricas.”
-“That’s the scent of the devil.”
-“Not at all, it is proved that the devil has sulfuric properties.”

Let's not forget that Mr. Galileo Galilei described the location, shape, and dimensions of Dante's Inferno. xD

All you need is courtesy

Posted by I'm the penguin | Posted in | Posted on Friday, November 12, 2010


Kurt Vonnegut put in one of his Prologues (Jailbird) something that might or might not be fiction, but to me it's all the same, you know that. It was about a young man writing a letter to him, that could touch the core of all of Vonnegut's work in a single phrase:

"Love may fail, but courtesy will prevail"

The author concurred that the phrase was accurate and complete into describing what he tried to say in his dozens of works. And then makes a punch line about how much time could have been saved having generated that phrase before.

That's a curious piece of information.

But what else is it? It got me thinking about humanity, its problems and love. Relationships are very complicated: partner, friend and family wise. We continuously talk about how love could fix every problem, if it was extended to every person: to love like a brother and sister every person on the planet. Hippies. But isn't this the single most idealistic thing? Even more than communism (I'm obviously stating a similarity). It's hard as it is to keep families from wrecking and being dismembered, it is an extremely rare event for friends to remain close after tests of time, and don't even get me started in the partner department: we've made (as a specie) enough songs, books, paintings, bank accounts and restrain orders to burn all and have enough energy to heat Earth for a million years (completely arbitrary and bad analogy). All that, just to say how fucking hard is it to keep someone around who will listen to how did you do at work and kiss you good night.

Love, as I see it, is a very complicated social system, that despite all of its social, mystic and economic powers conferred by us, tends to utterly fail.

So how else are we ever going to fix these crazy naked apes?
Courtesy and kindness I suppose.

No strings attached, only a few teaspoons (or tons) of empathy and a little verbal ability could do it. No one has ever suffered from a broken heart out of being courteous have they?

If only we could realize everyone's just as lonely and confused about it all, or more, than us; I think we'd be bonobos instead of gorillas.

Ideas de gitano

Posted by Mrs. Kite | Posted in , | Posted on Thursday, November 11, 2010


Si has de volverte loco, vuélvete tú solo, pero no me trates de inculcar tus ideas de gitano.
If you’re turning mad, do it yourself, but don’t come and try to give me your gipsy’s ideas.

Not much to say about this one,
it is filled with exquisite beauty and brutal honesty.

In my case, regarding this, I have this.
I am the gipsy, and the scientist.


Posted by I'm the penguin | Posted in | Posted on Wednesday, November 10, 2010


Y desde mis voces yo corro y finjo
Mis voces, que
desafían, se desafían
y desafinan.

Convergen y se disipan.

Dan un juicio y dos y tres
y rebaten y destruyen.
Crean pinaculos de verdad
sobre grumos de aire.
Pintan el cielo de azules obscuros
y las mentiras de miel acaramelada.

Mis voces que otorgan y gritan
que se desgarran al ser liberadas
y susurran palabras de aliento al confundido.
Palabras de invierno al alegre,
y notas de muerte al vivo.

Mis voces que no mienten pero si farfullan
que no hablan pero nunca callan
se elevan al atardecer y se condensan
en figuras de porcelana que no tienen otro destino
más que caer por su propio peso
y destrozarce

Y cuando se elevan las nubes se desarticulan
mis voces se secan y se deshacen.

Entonces pronuncio un aire de reproche
y como títeres, se alzan al ataque.
Mi bosque madura.

Sun war

Posted by Mrs. Kite | Posted in , , | Posted on Tuesday, November 09, 2010


Los complicados artes de la guerra solar.
The complex art of the solar war.

Geek time!
Lets talk about Archimedes Death Ray.

“Archimedes who created a mirror with an adjustable focal length (or more likely, a series of mirrors focused on a common point) to focus sunlight on ships of the Roman fleet as they invaded Syracuse, setting them on fire.”

Turns out, it is one of the awesomestest [sic] things to try with light and mirrors.
MIT did it, read it, it’s awesome. :D

Ceci n'est pas un post

Posted by I'm the penguin | Posted in | Posted on Monday, November 08, 2010


I love Magritte, his illustrations are rich and beautiful, and have a meaning deeper than may appear, or so I love to believe.

This special work is pretty, but it is actually more valuable because of its meaning. Ceci n'est pas une pipe- This is not a pipe.

Sure, at first you'd think "Of course it's a pipe, he's just stating the contrary to the obvious" which wouldn't be wrong, I guess, but is not the point.

The point is making the partition between representation, concepts and reality. That's truly not a pipe, but a group of shades and tones that form a figure that has enough characteristic features that resemble the image of what the object named "pipe" looks like.

It is not a pipe, but the representation of the concept. And that's a partition worth observing, because in real life we constantly encounter ourselves mistaking the concept with the real with, and vice versa. Now, I might be inflating it more than it was intended to, but how I see it, it is an awesome critique of how ideas work in society.

There the real thing, the atom made structure that exists in reality. And then there's the concepts that inhabits in electric impulses and a social network of collective memories. And being very objective, the atom-based structure existed already (in case of non-human made objects) without us, it was us who made it an idea, packed it inside a name and gave it life within the realm of ideas. Like a tree. The cells that conform it where there and will be there with or without naming, yet I don't have to put a picture of one for you to think about it, because we've wrapped the thing inside a concept and a name so we can carry it on our mind pockets.

And there are so many things that inhabit the world of ideas, not only the concepts, but meanings too. When I write tree maybe not only the image of a tree comes up, but also the peace and quite trees commonly have as a connotation. The atom-based structures don't posses these properties per se, we assign them and conform a context and meanings. And so in the world of collective ideas that we create, begin to exist conjuncted meanings, concepts and feelings. Forming a whole network of thoughts and meanings that become more complex than the actual atom-based world (in some ways only).

It doesn't rest at that, the world of ideas often is used to explain the world of atoms, and as long as the world of ideas makes sense to itself, the world of atoms is condemned to be described any way it is. But I'm setting it too dramatic, for the atom world cannot actually worry about it, or does it? Weren't we atoms realizing their own existence?(topic for other post). Anyway, this world of ideas is also very particular, because it is in constant change, reformation and reinterpretation. And so it is an unstable flux of ever changing ideas.

And so we're left with two worlds: the real world and the world of ideas. And being cultural animals as we are, we need to question every chance we have, in which world are we living? And which are the consequences of our interpretation of the world based on what reality are we choosing to live?

I'll just leave it at that, saying that this is precisely why I love this painting so much. (Sorry Magritte, I know you said no to look too deep into it, but to be me I had to...)


Posted by Mrs. Kite | Posted in , | Posted on Sunday, November 07, 2010


"El mundo era tan reciente que muchas cosas carecían de nombre, y para nombrarlas había que señalarlas con el dedo."
The world was so recent, that many things lacked name, and to name them they had to be pointed out with the finger.

Some very important things still lack name.

Emma at the café

Posted by I'm the penguin | Posted in | Posted on Saturday, November 06, 2010


There was a discussion the other day, and while it kind of lacks transcendence, and ultimately a breaking point, I thought it was worth talking about.

SET:A café in a College Town, middle class
VOICE1: Social sciences student

VOICE 1: You know, it is quite amazing how we can lead our lives so carelessly in the upper middle class and upper classes, it's like we live in another world that drifts from the majority. We neglect the majority of people and instead praise the majority of acquisitive power, which rests in a scarce minority of people. There's so much inequity, and at the end of the day we do nothing about it, there's so many poor people in rural and urban contexts, just in front of the economic elite, and yet nobody does nothing. We can see a group of mansions and 2 miles away some cardboard houses, and nobody does a single thing for these people. It's preposterous how we can live and accept a system which forces the existence of a lower class, paying the social cost of the unsustainable consumerism of the upper class. We can't keep giving temporary responses to this structural issues.

EMMA: Psssht. Isn't this "temporary solutions for structural issues" the snobbiest thing we could possibly talk about? I mean seriously, you talk as if you were truly outraged by this injustices, but hell! Look at us buying overpriced coffee with tea in this sorry excuse for a café, I mean having the disposable income to do this sets us afar from your proposed problematic several economic sectors away. It's ridiculous we even speak about it, we've never suffered about any of that, if at all we're just some ruling class wannabes who after some sort of education, we think we could so easily solve it all the stupid problems our past generations have made. What could we possibly do? It's rather childish to think we can change an entire structure, there are too many things depending on the status quo... I think it's too easy to talk and hope.

VOICE 1: How can you say that? We cannot maintain this system anymore, look at the social, environmental and economic costs we're already suffering. We need to change the way we think, just saying this and that is snobby we're not doing anything. Talking about this makes it real, we can't just keep on ignoring.

EMMA: Talking about it won't make any more real the fact that more than 80 million people don't have what to eat everyday around the world. If any, it will only relieve your feudal lord guilt of being privileged enough to have a home with running water, gas and a TV, which makes you a minority already. I just think that unless you're doing something about it, it's only a casual plantation owner's talk to mention it.

VOICE1:Who says we're not doing something about it? And what do you suggest then? Ignoring it and leaving it for the people who are in the salvation army?

EMMA:I think that if treated academically it should not be taken out of it context and spoken of as it was some terrible war issue you read about in the National Geographic, because then your loosing the problem's true identity.

VOICE1:How much of that is it true and how much is it just an excuse to remain sited waiting for someone else to help?

EMMA:Pass the sugar.Please.

"And I asked myself about the present: how wide it was, how deep it was, how much was mine to keep.

Ice memories.

Posted by Mrs. Kite | Posted in , | Posted on Friday, November 05, 2010


According to Wikipedia, One Hundred Years of Solitude (Cien años de soledad, 1967), by Gabriel García Márquez, is a novel that narrates the multi-generational story of the Buendía Family.

I read this book some years ago, during summer.
The following posts have some of my favorite quotes.

"Muchos años después, frente al pelotón de fusilamiento, el coronel Aureliano Buendía había de recordar aquella tarde remota en que su padre lo llevó a conocer el hielo."
Many years later, as he faced the firing squad, Colonel Aureliano Buendía was to remember that distant afternoon when his father took him to discover ice.

I don’t remember discovering ice, nor the beach, nor the fire. I used to have an intense nostalgia towards the life debuts. And I got sad when I couldn’t remember the first whatever and I also tried doing things for the first time so I could remember them afterwards, and I ended up forgetting them anyways.

The thing about my memories now, is not the fact that they were the first or the last, but the fact that they are even there. First, that they are there, selected from the hundreds of things that have happened, and that in a casual, unexpected moment they come back to life. And that as complex living organisms, we even have that ability.


Posted by I'm the penguin | Posted in | Posted on Thursday, November 04, 2010


Dearest blog,

let me tell you something you perhaps already noticed: Whenever there's something rounding my mind, and it just won't leave, it ends up here. I should credit all my good posts to this, but I don't have any good posts... so...

The point is that today it's not about a story, or a thought, no more philosophy or decadence, or ranting. Just one single phrase

How the hell did I end up with such great friends?

I'm not the cheesy type (pfff), not really, I don't say these things. But it has rounded my mind, whenever I think about loneliness and being a particle of dust in the universe, I can't really let myself go. There's always this reminder that the most awesome people I know happen to be close to me, and honestly, I have no idea how did I do it, I'm completely annoying, lack any sense of sensibility (see what I did there?), have a terrible sense of humor and unapproachable mood swings.

Well... leaving beside the selfcentred emo rant, I do believe these people are not just special because they put out with me, but because they really are the most amazing people I know. (just let me find more impressive people and I'll find a new friend list...)(jk). But seriously... I mean. How can uncertainty be so kind?

There, my 10 minutes a year of sober cheesiness are gone. Glad you were part of it dear blog.


Posted by Mrs. Kite | Posted in | Posted on Wednesday, November 03, 2010


I've been thinking about the phrase 'I will always love you'.
Its meaning is very straight forward. It states that one's self, will ever, perpetually, throughout all time and continually have an emotion of strong affection and personal attachment towards the person spoken to or written to. (thanks Wikitionary for making social conventions understandable)

Perpetually and Continually? Through all time?
Holly Shit.

Se murió

Posted by I'm the penguin | Posted in | Posted on Tuesday, November 02, 2010


Stencil de protesta, El Salto. Gente muere a causa de las condiciones ambientales, las autoridades no hace nada al respecto, qué queda por hacer?

Hopes and moar toasts

Posted by Mrs. Kite | Posted in , | Posted on Monday, November 01, 2010


Que el maquillaje no apague tu risa,
que el equipaje no lastre tus alas,
que el calendario no venga con prisas,
que el diccionario detenga las balas,
Que las persianas corrijan la aurora,
que gane el quiero la guerra del puedo,
que los que esperan no cuenten las horas,
que los que matan se mueran de miedo.
Que el fin del mundo te pille bailando,
que el escenario me tiña las canas,
que nunca sepas ni cómo, ni cuándo,
ni ciento volando, ni ayer ni mañana
Que el corazón no se pase de moda,
que los otoños te doren la piel,
que cada noche sea noche de bodas,
que no se ponga la luna de miel.
Que todas las noches sean noches de boda,
que todas las lunas sean lunas de miel.
Que las verdades no tengan complejos,
que las mentiras parezcan mentira,
que no te den la razón los espejos,
que te aproveche mirar lo que miras.
Que no se ocupe de tí el desamparo,
que cada cena sea tu última cena,
que ser valiente no salga tan caro,
que ser cobarde no valga la pena.
Que no te compren por menos de nada,
que no te vendan amor sin espinas,
que no te duerman con cuentos de hadas,
que no te cierren el bar de la esquina.
Que el corazón no se pase de moda,
que los otoños te doren la piel,
que cada noche sea noche de bodas,
que no se ponga la luna de miel.
Que todas las noches sean noches de boda,
que todas las lunas sean lunas de miel.

J. Sabina

Journal II: God

Posted by I'm the penguin | Posted in | Posted on Sunday, October 31, 2010


Chére Simone,

Timely speaking, I just got back from another journey, cet fois, we went to God. Relax, I'm not a renewed man with a purpose and a cleansed mind. But for technicalities I can say I encountered God in my trip.

Being that said, and just to prolong the hype, I shall give you some context first. The voyage's main intention was having the voyageurs encounter themselves, and if possible, their raison d'être. To their bad chance, they were dealing with a penguin who spends too much time with himself, talking and discussing with all of his other selves. As for the raison d'être... well, that's a subject for a longer trip, I thought at least. (A trip i've been living and postponing at the same time, all the time)

Anyway, I knew I still had to found something, something lower than deep, that perhaps didn't lie at the bottom de moi même. Maybe, like most things that construct me, first I had to think it, then make it exist, so to finally feel it. Plus, I was willing to make an effort, those days I had too much of a gray sky above my head and a disgust for everything.

So, like I always do, I did things ma façon. Silence may be fine for those who can't almost hear the voices in their heads, but mine are bitching loud and clear. So, I spoke to them. I asked for advise and deep analysis of what was really wrong with me. What was I doing about life, and from that which aspects were the one failing? Anyway, the WhitePenguin, the ComfrontationPenguin and the CarePenguin had an agitated discussion of what was going on.

Given the confidentiality of the rendez-vous, I can't really get into detail, but know that their agreements were able to heal I'mthePenguin.

Having that done, now we had to find God, his amour infini, and how it affects us. You know my relationship with God has become better with time, but we weren't in those terms, neither did we planned to be. But again, for the exercise's sake I made an effort.

First I had to define why the concept of "the infinite love of God giving me strength" gave me the jivies. And it had something to do with the fact that I related it directly to the image of a mythological god that is almighty and creator. And let me tell you something, that's precisely the face of God I've had a very hard time dealing with, I dislike it not only because it is without logic, but it also defies rational thinking, as well as it gives people excuse for doing the most stupid things for the longest time. (if offended, close this blog and go read some more ancestral gibberish, fundamentalist).

Anyway, what needed to be done was to make a clear delimitation of the things I accepted about God, and the things I didn't. While I'm fully aware that it all comes in the same package, I think it's rather stupid to dismiss it all just because part of its content (and fallacious).

My definition of God was that it was a collective concept, inserted in the intangible strings of culture, and thus impregnated in any person connected to such network. This concept is so global and powerful that it really doesn't matter is such Universal entity as "GOD" exists, if it has such a power within society and the bases of culture, then it is as real as it gets because, and only because, all we ever do as humans nowadays are social constructions.

So, this huge construction plays a main role in all aspects of human history and relations. And most of the doctrines that study it, include a message of love, and ultimately achieving peace. Peace and love, I can relate to and accept, thus I can coexist with this dens fabric of cumulative anecdotes and ideas, called God.

And so, because of my definition of God, it can't have any power or scope outside the fabric of society, thus it is not a creator, it has no infinite power, and can certainly not end the world with a blink of an eye. So I had to make a partition of the mythic God and the spiritual-loving God. One is confined to myths, stories, and the most reactionary of moral systems. While the other is an ever changing stream of hope and benevolence to humans. (Still doubting the point of my partition?)

Anyway, this was what I already thought. The people guiding this journey to Godville were religious, and I associate them with the spiritual God. So, when imposed with the task of thinking of the "infinite love given to you by God" it was a clash of concepts. Why? Because no fabric of social constructions can possibly become tangent strength, or make you feel loved if it is a collective, yet independent collection of personal believes. Or at least so I thought.

Then they came to me, the various times when people confess giving up, and finding strength in prayer, and in the love of God. And also the huge efforts people do to give love and praise to an invisible entity, to feel a purpose, or something else. And so I thought, that this God network is not only present in the ideas of people, but also in their affections. (naturally their affections are within their ideas, but I didn't though the relation was so close.) People feel safe with this network of love, because it is there.

Now, I don't mean that A's prayers and love to God will transfer trough the air particles to B, because B feels lonely and sad. What I mean is that B has to develop a sort of "self-esteem" system for when B needs it. And this "self-esteem", meaning the love the person feels from God, can only be made with the assurance of this love network; which is normally constructed by the rituals and traditions suggested by various doctrines.

And so it made sense, and at last I was able to make peace with the religious aspect of the journey. It was at that moment when I found God, wandering the forests.