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