Blackbird Fields

Well, I'd let them in

2012-02-14T12:23:00.000-06:00

Metronomy- Trouble

Decreto

2012-02-03T12:45:00.002-06:00

Tú, el que se ha muerto

más de mil veces en el futuro

el que sin existir en el presente

lo infecta todo con espacio negativo

y tus pocas ganas de ser. solo estas.

Quizá aún no naces en el pasado,

sólo un mal lunes lo sabré.

No existas más, deja tus botas metálicas,

tus dos bofetadas y materializate.

O no.

Life goes on

2012-02-02T12:43:00.002-06:00

Noah and the whale, listen to them. There's a very warm in the chest feeling to all their songs.

Say no to gay marriage

2011-12-02T19:27:00.005-06:00

To be honest, when I first read that Karl Lagerfeld oposed the gay marriage movement I didn't really understood why. Maybe he was just fucking hypocrite, or he was too bitter, or maybe he was too cool to be politically correct (Even if such correctness indirectly affected him).

The fact is that I couldn't understand how a gay man with such avantgarde visions, with such a contact with the pop-culture would ever opose to same-sex marriage.

The thing is that I was a bit naive maybe. I lacked context, I lacked history.

Karl Lagerfeld comes from a different time, one where the real gay movement wasn't about marriage rights, or adoption. Gay pride was not about merchandise and being a sellout to the patriarchal standards.

Gays were fighting to be respected, recognized and dignified, just how they were, feminine, drag queens, androgenous or massive bears, it didn't matter, they were fighting for true diversity. The right to be different, having at least minimum civil protection in a world of struggle where they were fighting aginst ancient paradigms of gender, sexuality and spirituality.

That is I think, a true fight for freedom.

How's that any different from wanting marriage?

Well marriage, like many conservatives protest, has a religious background (the real roots are economic, but I'm not making distinction between both right now). Anyway, marriage is an institution based on patriarchal precepts, based on the ownership of the feminine side so a man and a woman can coexist, him providing, her supporting.

The grounds in which marriage is built upon are those of sexism and inequity. And more than anything, the establishment of inflexible gender roles, stone written expectations of masculinity and feminity.

So, for homosexual people to want this, you have to understand that in the eyes of history, is a great betrayl. Conservatives don't realize that from this perspective, it is their victory. A diverse crowd that once fought for being recognized as different and respected, now craves to belong to the club of patriarchy. The movement seeks validation of the social system to be good enough to have a right to enter such rituals.

And the conservative just won't share this club of theirs.

So, yes, I understand why would Lagerfeld would opose gay marriage. It is not only a betrayl of sorts to the right of being different, it is the death of a counter-culture movement, the death of the romantic freedom that was once fought for in the streets. It's surrendering to the social standards and expectations, the same ones that cause the entire struggle.

(This is of course an ideological issue and an ideological stand point, which a truly believe. But being practical I also believe that the modern world reconstructs meanings, and so marriage is more that validation to some, and so it should be a granted right.)

Cuando tengas frío.

2011-11-24T14:49:00.000-06:00

CUANDO TENGAS FRÍO | Joaquín Sabina

Usa mi llave cuando tengas frío,
cuando te deje el cierzo en la estacada,
hazle un corte de mangas al hastío,
ven a verme si estás desencontrada.

No tengo para darte más que huesos
por un tubo y un salmo estilo Apeles
y páginas anémicas de besos
y un cubo de basura con papeles.

Ni me siento culpable de tu lejos,
ni dejo de fruncir los entrecejos
que usurpan de tus ojos la alegría,
si quieres enemigos ya los tienes,
pero si socios buscas ¿cuándo vienes
a repartir conmigo la poesía?

No words can

2011-11-11T17:27:00.002-06:00

Today I woke up with an urge, like many others, of reminding you just how perfect you are.

And as I proceeded to make a note, I found it difficult to describe you. Beautiful? You're not beautiful, a spring's flower is beautiful, it makes me smile and feel warm in the chest. But you, love, you shorten my breath, make a cosmic explosion of happy thoughts in my head and spin my soul with your sole gaze.

But which words if not?

Gorgeous? Breath taking? Wonderful? Fantastic?

They were all words that described the ocean, a parisian night, colorful art, love poems, the deep woods. These words have meaning, but they are used for nice things that make me happy, but they cannot compare to you. It would seem words to describe beauty have become rather common . And love, you're everything but common.

I see you, I feel you, I touch you and I want to climb to the moon and reflect it upon you so everyone could look at you in all your courage, your freedom and grace. Then all the nonesense in the world would finally stop, I'm sure now.

But maybe I'm too selfish my love, because I wouldn't share you. And maybe that''s the end of me, of us, me wanting you so much, loving you too much. But darling, how could anyone not?

In my heart

2011-10-30T19:33:00.001-06:00

Venga un post de HOY,
I really, really love this song:

Back

2011-10-30T19:29:00.002-06:00

No tener ni como, ni cuando, ni bandera.
Un surco en el ojo que sólo derrama,
un beso en el alma que todavía sangra,
mi frente que miente cuando te me escapas
y mil mentiritas que pronto me llaman.

Escribí esto hace algunos meses. Es curioso, que es algo que jamás escribiría hoy. Aprecio mucho la temporalidad del blog, el escribir sobre el hoy le da un valor muy diferente a acumular escritos para después publicarlos. Lo penoso es quizás que ni siquiera los he acumulado.

Dejando la fecha y el abandono en segundo plano, tenía que regresar.
Hola.

Nostalgia, again. tumblr related

2011-10-15T18:56:00.002-05:00

Dear Blogger,

I must be terribly honest, for the guilt is stabbing me in the diaphragm every time I betray your dearest trust... in other words, I'm cheating on you, sorry.

It's not you, it's me.

But today, the other one showed me something that reminded me of you. Because at the end of the day, you're my true and only one. I may play around in other social networks, but Blogger, you're my home, my quiet-little-place.

One day when I’m like 30, I’m gonna log onto my ~~tumblr~~ blogger, for the first time in who knows how long it’ll be by then, and read all of my posts. Every single one. And I’m probably gonna either laugh at how ridiculous I was, or cry because I’ll never be this young and naive again.

Come on sister Kite

2011-10-12T22:33:00.003-05:00

I've already posted about this song Mrs. K

But at this exact moment, it brought me back to an specific time.

You are in love, I'm in lust. We're dancing, and we might just loose a little faith.

Virginia Woolf (along with Kundera and such and such) say you're not aware of your emotions untill after the event, it is only with the time perspective that you can tell what you were really feeling.

I was feeling so free. So independent, so fucking young. And in such a comunion with you, my sister. I love you, I love that moment, that feeling. So come on sister, tell me all about you men, your hopes and the hours of your life.

Don de pubertad

2011-10-02T22:18:00.004-05:00

La pubertad, como lo dice la convención universal, es lo más nefasto de la vida de la gente (y de la no gente también).

Dentro de esa horrible gestión de cámaras magmáticas, usureros ideológicos, consumo de personalidad y traumas rompe confianzas quedan ciertas remembranzas de algo que fue, de algo que dejó huella y al recordarlo no provoca vergüenza (tanta).

Este es un recuerdo de las primeras veces que dejé mi lado cursi asomarse por la pupila, cuando una canción me llegó.

Quiero saber qué me pasa te pregunto ¿qué me pasa? y no sabes qué contestarme.
Te cansé con mi cámara lenta, y aunque trato nunca puedo apurar mi decisión.

En el preciso momento en que todo va cambiando para mí, en ese instante te aseguro que alguna señal te dí, peor no me escuchaste, tal vez sin intención de tu parte... puede ser un poco débil el sonido de mi voz.

Una mañana te veré llegar y descubriré que yo solo ya no estoy mejor.

Podría ser que al final rompiste el cristal en mi, podría pasar que me hagas hablar, yo creo que tienes el don de curar este mal.

Siento que debo encontrarte, y sin embargo paso el tiempo yendo hacia mi mismo, a mi centro que jamás encontraré. Yo quisiera tenerte y tratarte de un modo decente, pero ves que ya no puedo despegarme de mi papel.

El destino me ha dado corazones desequilibrados, tu palabra me nivela y detiene mi caer.

Podría ser que al final rompiste el cristal en mi, abriste mi piel que estaba tan mal, quebraste el silencio que me hizo alejar, quizá seas tu quien me haga regresar, intuyo que sabes la forma mejor y tienes el don que requiere curar este mal.

Años después, puedo decir que sigue llegando a una parte de mi, y que quizá seas tu quien me haga regresar.

Evolucionar

2011-09-29T00:00:00.003-05:00

"Evolucionar constituye una infidelidad. A los demás, al pasado… a las antiguas opiniones de uno mismo. Cada día debería tener, al menos, una infidelidad esencial. Una traición necesaria. Se trataría de un acto optimista, esperanzador, que garantizaría la fe en el futuro. Una afirmación de que las cosas pueden ser no solo diferentes, sino mejores.”

Todas Las Canciones Hablan de Mi

Ante todo, amo el audio. La gran suceción es acerca de traisionar al pasado, al presente, dejar atrás y aventurarse.

-La incertidumbre no es sobre el no saber qué pasará, si no es la certeza de que todo lo que puede pasar, pasará, eso sí, sin saber ni como ni cuando.

Dreamers

2011-09-24T13:48:00.003-05:00

Movie of the week.
This is in spirit, the real and most powerful essence of western great perhaps. The embodiment of all the youth's dreams, flaws and perfection.

Terminal

2011-09-23T00:42:00.004-05:00

Please... don't leave...

Don't say it

... I wanted to be the father of your children.

----

I won't even meet the now....

---

Don't...

Your sister's wedding.

Our trip to Prague...

---

I'll never go there.

Don't do say it, we'll make it trough

No WE WON'T

---

I won't.

They always say it so easily, but I actually wanted to see you old, wrinkled, holding your soft wrinkly hand...

---

---

People have lived trough worse

Let's skip that part, we know it's not happening.

I love you

---

---
Remember that little blue-brick house we saw last week? It would've looked lovely with your magnolias in the front.

I think it is more of a lily front garden.

I know, but yours would have made it look more like home.

---

I love you so much, I just can't see myself without...

---

Just don't forget to water the acacias, pay the bills before the 13th, in the winter cover Mutant with his blanket up to his belly or he gets too hot. Keep sending Christmas cards to my mother, she will need you. Learn to drive stick. Bright colors look better on you, they match your smile. Love every day like it's the last.

---

Three Apostles

2011-09-21T00:41:00.003-05:00

I'm bored out of my mind... I'm in senior year, it gives you (too) little free time, I just use it all at once.

Took the bus, then the train- If anyone would ask I'm going to a Lynn Margulis seminar, I'm a genius, a prodigy...

If you've got to grow up (really really got to) you gotta do it on your own... I don't think I could stand to be stuck.

If you want to find out, find out, you got to look them in the eye.

'Oh if I could make sense of it all!' What would I NOT do to believe...

Act Of The Apostle II by ylemorrison

A bit of lovely feelings from the past. Maybe it could be nostalgia. The kind of warm feeling you can only get after a while.

Inheritance: the preview

2011-09-19T01:42:00.004-05:00

You know you're in college when your bed looks like this the entire weekend and you still sleep on it.

BTW, yes, I am shamelessly showing off my inlife-inheritance, my lovely:

God and people

2011-09-12T20:49:00.003-05:00

Aujourd'hui, at french conversation club the coordinator didn't make it, so we improvised with little cards with debating questions on them. First it was all very superficial, about hopes, dreams, opinions and in general secular content. What would you do if you were president for a day? If you had only 6 months to live what would you do? Would you tell a friend if you fell in love with him/her?

Then God came into the equation.

If you could ask God anything, what would you ask?

First I heard questions like "What's the purpose of my life?", "what's the point of living?"

While others questioned their existence trough their creator, I questioned the creator's existence. First of all, it was very hard for me to imagine a God as an entity I could ask something to. I guess I'm very damaged that way, I can't imagine God anymore. First I guessed that God would be a creation power, a designer, it just felt wrong, even just thinking about it. I felt out of context, their context, out of that deep feeling everyone had that there was an entity with something called absolute truth. Even writing about it makes me shiver.

Anyway, I was not about to share this with the rest, instead I thought what would I ask a to a caricature of an oracle. (that's how close I could get to divinity). I would never ask about the future, I think doing so would only ruin it. I wouldn't ask about the past, because that I build daily, and there's not much I can make of it anyway.

Questions about the universe? To an entity that knows everything, comprehends all uncertainties and complexities? There's no chance I could be capable of understanding even the question itself. The magic of science for humans is knowing we can't look at the universe objectively, or truly in its entirety. It is a beautiful paradox, the more we look into it, the more we realize we will never grasp it entirely.

And so, If I can't ask about me, the universe, and have no intend of knowing about other people any further than they allow me to, then what?

Are you happy God? Are you satisfied?

I said this last questions out loud. The first reaction was a sympathizing look, I thought maybe she had a clue of what was I thinking.

"Right, if he's happy with what we've done, right?"

"Not really, just... happy with its/his existence. Are you pleased with your existence God?"

As if the only reason to talk to it was asking about us, about HIM judging us. I don't care about the information he holds about me, I'd rather think I'm my own builder. I don't want his answers, mine are so beautiful and poetic by themselves. And more important, I think, I don't accept his judgement, my actions are about love despite convention, not convention despite love.

Sorry God, I guess today today I realized our relationship is strictly professional.

Love is a place.

2011-09-10T19:19:00.004-05:00

As some sort of a response to the rant: blogs post,

I think this blog has always been the prefect space to rant, in a good way.
Here lies (and lies) the story of over 1100 posts, through our last four years, a time capsule by itself.
This has an amount of significance for me beyond the obsessive-collectors-syndrome that I tend to carry. It is where my near and dear angst resides, my dreams and hopes, my thoughts, mrs. kite, n_t_ph_n_c, T_ch_ and N_____ Q.

It's where I come back to write the most painful love letter I've ever written and that I'll never send, the novels and the memory diary I'll never publish, my noble (perhaps Nobel) ideas, where the raises and falls are registered, and where the "I'm you man"¹ , the "Maybe this time", the "That's life." and the "Friday I'm in love" stupid heart comes to write.
This is where I come back to find myself (I get lost easily some days). That moment, when broken N crawls, jumps or dances towards the keyboard and finds the black brick background and Mrs.Kite patiently waiting for the next video, song, science rant, poem or (almost certainly) broken heart, is, oh well, priceless.

This place is IT.

With unmeasurable love,
Mrs. Kite

___________
1. Leonard Cohen's "I'm your man."
"If you want a lover, I'll do anything you ask me to. And if you want another kind of love, I'll wear a mask for you. [...] And I'd fall at your feet, I'd say please: "I'm your [wo]man."

Letter to green eyes.

2011-09-10T19:09:00.003-05:00

My letter version of Coldplay's song "Green Eyes".

Green eyes,

I came here to talk, I think you should know that you’re the one that I wanted to find.
Yeah, the spotlight shines upon you, but how could andybody love you? Anyone who tried to do so, must be out of their mind.
Honey you are a rock, 'cause I came here with a load and it feels so much heavier, since I met you.
And honey you should know, that I could never go on with you.

But I'll love you always and forever,
I hope you undersand.
Goodbye.

You could've been

2011-09-07T17:40:00.001-05:00

Your being stupid hurts me more than your being promiscuous.

#postsecret

rant: blogs

2011-09-07T17:06:00.002-05:00

Having a blog for this long has meant different things for me. First it was a way to let things out, a way out, escaping. It was also a validation inn the internet community, even if we are isolated, having a piece of the internet to call my own gave me a wider sense of belonging, I guess.

Then it was a way to keep in touch when our worlds drifted apart. It didn't really work in that way, it was not so much of a bridge, but a portrait of our new worlds. I began the ecogeek blogging, the political drama, the journey of the disenchantment, with a hint of red spirits. I used to be in a dormant state of contemplation, now I'm in a dormant state of pre-action.

It's so funny how I can taint with nostalgia even those unadventurous times of nothingness.

You went through a lot too, science, philosophy, art, music, music. relationships. You showed me that new world of ideas. While there was no bridge per se, there was us. And I guess that's all we do here, construct -us-.

With time I've found that the only real reason to keep on with this project is having things to admire about the past. And I think I've spoken enough about the past by now. But my point is, being a time machine like it is, I'm afraid it ends somewhere it shouldn't, maybe its existence is a conjectural space for release.

I don't know. Maybe I'm just ranting as usual, and I should be blogging properly.

Speaking about the paradigms of this generation. Speaking about relativism and the paths it is taking, making us indiferent to the outside, whatever goes. How's that a problem? There's got to be something we stand up for right?

Or maybe I should just leave posting for when I'm feeling rather creative.

However so, I needed to come back, I needed to feel back home, even if I don't really have anything to say.

Surpise surprise

2011-08-31T23:52:00.000-05:00

When gone

2011-08-31T22:29:00.001-05:00

When we, as humans, are gone from this planet, electrons won't cry, rocks won't be able to remember and the air will have long forgotten we were ever there.

#poetwit/#poescientist moment of the day

Stardom

2011-08-19T21:01:00.003-05:00

Nobody ever really thought this day would come...

Yes... the day when google got its numbers wrong.

I guess this ends our niche of obscure blogging, our beloved invisible hipster readers, we will miss you. Hello to the new media big deals coming! We're going to be so famous, writing about post-modern depression, soundtracks and bad sight. Teenage (at least one) millionaires here we come!

This is it, we're going to be stars.

Maybe this time

2011-08-11T13:36:00.003-05:00

Unless you read between lines, this post may seem unexpected:

Cuz everybody loves a winner, so nobody loved me.

I loved this song for reasons I can't really understand, I'm just irrationally cheesy like that. It has some #foreveralone to it, but it feels empowered, it feels hopeful.

Somethings bound to give in...

Soñando géneros

2011-08-06T17:29:00.001-05:00

Era un curso/diplomado/congreso/junta de estudios de género, en un entorno académico-comercialón con el tema de si es necesario o no que en una sociedad que exista el género y lo paradigmas de identidad dicotómica como los hay tanto en la actualidad. Hombre/mujer hetero/homo puta/santa cabrón/pendejo. El caso es que hablábamos de eso y cerca del final me pedían hablar acerca de la visión de los estudiantes en este ámbito, no tengo idea de porque yo, pero pasé y me vi hablar. No sé qué dije pero estoy convencido de que fue muy bueno. Los medios locales me hicieron una entrevista que seguramente citarían fuera de contexto, pasé a mi lugar y todo terminó.

En algún lugar de la ciudad tú y yo tomábamos una malteada de moras, en algún lado leí que te agradaban, eso creo. Mientras discutíamos aún de la conferencia nombrabas a lxs autorxs que te habían hecho quien eras en este campo, y lo fangirl que te habías puesto de verlos frente a ti tomando notas y susurrándose comentarios incisivos y flatulentos entre ellos. Yo sólo te veía y asentía, lo que suelo hacer cuando pasan estas cosas. No estaba seguro si decirte que yo ya sabía quién eras tú, mientras tú te comportabas como si fuéramos dos extraños en igualdad de anonimato.

Yo nunca vi esto, pero sé que pasó así: en cuanto terminó la plática, después de ir a babearles a las vacas sagradas del no-género, te me acercaste como si nuestro plan silencioso desde el principio hubiera sido fingir que éramos extraños para encontrarnos, como las jóvenes mentes que aspiraban a algún futuro en la academia. Supusiste que teníamos mucho en común y seguiste la conversación, pero tú no sabes que en ese momento yo también babeaba cual fan girl viendo a una vaca sagrada hablándome. Tu fama te precedía, y tu ni en cuenta.

Ya en el café/bar/resto/galería/casa-de-citas empezábamos a hablar de cosas personales, y de nuestras condiciones similares de perros falderos de academia, y nuestra afiliación al ABC*, y bueno toda la charla de cajón que acompaña el saberse del mismo club. Fue entonces que ya con más confianza me preguntaste por qué usaba una camisa rosa si era de la opinión que un contra arquetipo de género era aún nadar a las anchas del paternalismo.

Al ser yo, primero te conteste una tontería relacionada con la temporada y el primer nombre de diseñador que me venía a la mente. Tu risa fue forzada. Después me tomé un trago de silencio para armar bien una respuesta, la cual no sé si en verdad se formó o sólo escupí lo que siempre digo, mas-menos un gargajo paradigmico.

De la forma en la que lo veo, la herencia cultural del ABC tiene un peso que por lo general despreciamos, al grado de decir que no hay tal cosa como una cultura, solo gente con intereses afines. Pero creo que esa visión es un tanto descontextualizada, porque yo creo que la cuestión de esta identidad tiene bastante de herencia, así como la raza. Dije, vi como tus ojos preparaban cuarenta contra argumentos y tu boca se contorsionaba en exaltación por rebatir. Pero antes de que pudieras hablar seguí.

Sí, me vas a decir que la raza de mero principio es un término que hoy es un poco políticamente incorrecto, y me dirás también que la raza es un término acuñado por la cultura que se forma por sociedades con identidades geográficas, educativas y de tribu que se forman en el tiempo. Pues bueno, yo a eso te digo que el fenómeno queer trasciende geografías, pero su forma de herencia cultural existe. Si bien tus padres no te enseñan las truculentas artes del joteo, estas existen en la nube cultural que nos rodea, ya que quieran o no, las cuestiones de género vienen en un paquete cultural inseparable. Al heredarnos las expectativas de cómo debe ser un hombrecito y cómo se comporta una mujercita, viene también el paquete entero de lo que pasa si a las mujercitas no les da por casarse, o si a los hombrecitos les gusta ser chingados (entiéndase en el sentido más sexual posible).

De esta forma, creo que aquellos individuos que empiezan a formar una proto-cultura de la identidad sexual, quieran o no la están heredando a través de los observadores. Ahora, esto por si solo asegura que no se transmitirá quizá de la forma ideal. Y esto es echarle mucha crema a los tacos a decir que la gente lo va a ver mal y lo va a satanizar. Pero el punto, es que esa cultura se va heredando. Comienza a salir en tus películas hollywoodescas, se oye en la tele, se habla en las revistas de chismes. Cuál chupa cabras empieza a materializarse del aire. Entonces, en este aspecto, soy de la idea que la cultura queer se hereda a las generaciones, se transmite, quizás a base de burlas y golpes, pero la transferencia está. Y si tenemos herencia, tenemos antepasados, y tenemos un grado de responsabilidad de mantener record de que existió (si no es que preservarla).

Tu expresión me dice que cada punto le estas poniendo pero, aún así quieres que continúe. También hay un dejo de excitación en tu pecho y tus lentes de pasta resaltan en la luz bohemi-esque.

Ya dejé claro mi posición a cerca de la transferencia, creo. Ahora habría que convencerte que en definitiva, existe tal cosa como la cultura queer. Quien me oye decir esto me refuta que esto es imposible, que los estereotipos de la tele de reinas que aman a britney/gaga, usan entallados y son promiscuos son una horda de sinsentidos que no son cultura. Y que esta visión ni siquiera engloba al resto del espectro.

Sí, es cierto, en sí el estereotipo no le hace favores a nadie. Y si te pones a comparar eso contra lo que me refería de las razas me vería muy ridículo comparando el producto de antros y marchas contra centurias de arte, costumbres, tradiciones, lenguajes, etc. Sí, en ese sentido es un tanto ridículo. Sin embargo mi punto no deja de ser que en un sentido un tanto superficial, estos estereotipos repudiados si sirven como proto-cultura que gira en torno a un cierto avance, porque también hay los productos culturales. El arte de temática queer no puede ser relegado a una sola identidad porque por si solas las obras son independientes y de todas partes del globo, pero no dejan de tener en común todo el bagaje de género cultural que implica pertenecer al mundo LGBTQXYZ…

A lo que voy, creo, es que por sí sola existe una cultura, que aunque queramos o no, se ha formado con base en las expresiones de género y sexualidad. Y todo es parte de: el arte, los estereotipos, los contra-arquetipos, las críticas, las marchas. Todo. Para formar una intangible red que si bien, a no todos gusta compartir, enlaza a la “comunidad” dándoles en común algo más que sus gustos perseguidos, que sus tendencias incomprendidas; una identidad.

Bien, me preguntas por qué uso rosa, después de que te dije que eso del afeminamiento me parece solo un contra-arquetipo patriarcal que no libera a nadie a menos que sea parte intrínseca de la persona. Entonces te contesto que el rosa me parecía apropiado para este evento, ya que es una especie de conmemoración a los ancestros, de asimilar el bagaje heredado y hasta cierto punto de hacer una sátira medio respetuosa. Por eso vengo de camisa rosa.

Terminé, agarré mi taza de malteada y si tomar la acerqué a mí en un intento muy burdo de darte a entender que mi letanía absurda había terminado. Estabas a punto de soltar todo lo que habías preparado, pero algo en mi mirada te obligó a concretar y repensar. Hubo un ligero silencio que me supo a moras, y después dejaste caer toda una explicación de la ontología del género y la cultura. En nuestro ritmo de discusión había un cierto tango, un ligero acento lascivo en nuestras objeciones y después todo se empezó a difuminar, con una discreta sensación de triunfo y hormonas en el estómago.

Gender rant

2011-08-04T13:46:00.003-05:00

I was 12 when I came to the realization that despite all the differences/deviation/diversity we can see with sexuality/roles you can only be a man/woman. And I'm not sure why, but I felt like I was missing something, as if I was leaving a lot out. But what could it be? We are taught that if you have a penis, you are a man; a vagina, you are a woman. It doesn't matter who you like, boys, girls or both. There's just those two options right?

And don't even get me started with the gender roles that we are expected to follow, what masculinity means in a patriarchal system. The condemnation of femininity, and all the social issues that unravel from such systems. And these, of course have everything to do with our perception of genders, but to keep it simple I'll just stick to genders.

So, normalizing genders is, I think, one of the basis of society as we know it. Just see how EVERYTHING from commodities, to consumerism, to education has everything broken down for a)men b) women. That's it, restrooms, products, entertainment, everything has a target appealing to this ideas of gender roles that must be kept at all costs.

But really what makes a man a man and a woman a woman? It seems rather obvious, you'd say that beside form the secondary sexual traits in every person, there are the primary one which are rather obvious. So you may have a short, skinny, androgenic person, but if there's a penis, it's a man, and so HE must behave like one. Same goes for large, wide, bearded women.

But what happens when a person has boobs, a girl's face, yet a penis? We call such person hermaphrodite and make them choose which gender role would they rather play. Because society is very inclusive like that right? They have a choice. (as long as it is male or female).

Well, what about if said person (Sam) doesn't want to be a girl, or a boy. What if Sam is appealed by traits of both gender roles and decides to stay in between? How do we call Sam? he?she? xe?

Now, you may think that this only applies to people born with some gender-related variation. But be honest and ask yourself if it is true we can make such a dichotomy, girl/boy. If a girl likes to wrestle she's a tomboy, and is frowned upon; if a boy likes ballet he's girly, and he's bashed. And we're used to this kind of perceptions, and nowadays we're very "tolerant" of this types of behaviors, we're like "yeah, whatever works"

But I think that's not enough. Because we are only letting it slip by, as if in a magnanimous act of kindness we're allowing this types of gender-confusing behaviors, this people who wander in a grey area when it comes to gender.

I think we need to realize that this idea of genders does no favors to anyone. Sure, it's how we've been raised, sure that's all we know. But I think that as long as there is a norm to get compared with in terms of how a person is supposed to live their sexuality, their friendships, their relationships; there is not going to be a truly free society in which we can actually explore the human expression beyond norms.

Normalize diversity, don't just "tolerate" it.

De lo que son

2011-07-28T21:58:00.003-05:00

Soy más de lo sutil que de lo burdo, más de significados que de cosas.

Lo mío es más lo sencillo que lo simple, amo más lo complejo que lo complicado.

Mis lugares son azules, son el underdog, los míos son los que no se escuchan cuando resquebrajan. Son ocasos amarillos y naranjas tenues. Conmigo viajan los sueños bizarros, los claros y los claridosos. Visiones lucidas de día que en la noche se vuelven grillos.

De mis arboles sale fruto de lo que soslaya y se pierde en el infinito. De mis plantas parte el suelo que no se detiene, la calma que marea. De mis yemas, llamas que te reclaman.

Es mi lápiz quien desangra madrugadas de silencios, que luego se callan.

Daylight I'm so absent minded

2011-07-16T19:51:00.003-05:00

Physics makes us solid, bitches.

Making me think again, Coetzee added in one of his books that evolution is rather questionable when looking at the human. It is rather ridiculous that our advantage as homo sapiens is being rational, and with this we are self-aware of being, the outside and the otherness, yet despite this we cannot comprehend the world in its entirety. We are aware there is something to discover, yet we're unable to.

If you ask me, he's got wrong what evolution is all about. But my point here, is again, science and discovering the world.

We've reached a point where we can no longer assume we have dominance over nature, social phenomena, fuck not even ourselves. I think the time where science tries to operate in order to understand, thus dominate its surroundings is over, actually my personal belief is that science never did this, but some of the people working on it did.

The new perspective should be that of contemplation. We can only observe the cosmos with our little eyes made of cells and draw the shapes of shadows. Just because they're freaking awesome.

(There's nothing new to it you'd think, but the weight of history forces me to see my reality as a brand new pile of recycled shit)

I guess it would be nice to help in your escape from parents your parents designed.

Nihilists with good imagination.

Vanish.

2011-07-11T20:20:00.002-05:00

Ever feel like, vanishing?

Lo pasado, pasado(?)

2011-07-10T20:05:00.001-05:00

Estaba esperando a que esta idea se desarrollara más, o a leer algo al respecto para dar una opinión más estructurada/educada. Pero ese tipo de pensamiento es lo que tiene a este blog tan vacío (2011wise).

Últimamente me he paseado en la historia, y me he percatado de que en el pasado la gente, también era gente.

Y lo que pasa es que por más ridículo que suene, tenemos una tendencia muy grande a simplificar todo, y el resultado es que consideramos al pasado como una anécdota con la que explicamos cosas previas a nuestra experiencia. Me atrevería a decir que es cuestión de la educación formal, su mayor esfuerzo es lograr que aprendas fechas y personajes, asignarles un rol y dar generalidades de su quehacer. Sin embargo resulta reduccionista dejarle toda la culpa a la educación, cuando creo que es una cuestión cultural.

Comprendemos a la historia, me parece, como un bagaje de curiosidades a cerca de un tiempo remoto, un periodo inexistente del que solo queda la poca información que creemos saber al respecto, y la visión acartonada de la sociedad de ese tiempo, descrita desde la forma más oficial posible. Y el problema con esto es que hacemos que esos tiempos se conviertan en cuentos heredados, no nos percatamos de un contexto mayor, del peso que esa historia tiene sobre nosotros además de la independencia en 1800, los asentamientos coloniales, la hegemonias políticas, las guerras, las leyes. El peso que la historia hace sobre nosotros es mucho más que eso.

El sistema ético, los roles de género, las tradiciones, las religiones, los saberes, etc. Son cosas que heredamos inconscientemente, y que suponemos, al saberlas diferentes al pasado (en detalles), que somos ahora -modernos-. Sin embargo el peso que la historia, y sus contextos culturales y sociales, tienen sobre estos aspectos es imposible de ignorar. El occidente no es sinónimo de capitalismo judeo-cristiano por nada, el paradigma patriarcal no es ser machistas solo porque ellos son bien chingones y ellas son bien chingadas. Nosotros no somos nosotros solo porque así somos.

Al asumir una historia como creo que los hacemos, las personas que habitaban esos tiempos se deshumanizan y son en vez símbolos de antaño con una bidimensionalidad de los tres o cuatro aspectos que recordamos. La consecuencia de esto es que olvidamos que es la misma especie que existe ahora, son el mismo tipo de personas, con exactamente las mismas facultades, necesidades y vicios que tenemos. Externalizadas de diferentes maneras, obviamente, pero a mi parecer es lo mismo.

Me alegaras que los avances tecnológicos e ideológicos son abismales, y a eso te digo: hoy en día vivimos con una serie de paradigmas en todos los aspectos de nuestra vida, hay quienes los aceptan y los obedecen, hay quienes los cuestionan y marcan nuevos límites. Y toda una gama entre esos dos aspectos enormes. Lo mismo aplica para otros tiempos, si bien las creencias y saberes pueden ser distintos, las conformaciones más instintivas continúan.

Con esto voy a que en tiempos victorianos también había puestas de cuerno, los mayas seguro algún día cuestionaron a sus dioses y hacían chistes, entre los colonizadores habrá habido uno que otro sarcástico, seguro Newton tenía un genio de la chingada y un ego que no obedecía la ley de gravedad, habrá habido egipcias clásicas feministas. En todos los tiempos la gente ha sido gente.

Y siento que pasa que en el presente asumimos que todo es nuevo, que ahora todo lo sabemos, estamos en el epítome de todo avance humano. Y sí, por mera definición el presente es lo más actualizado en todo. Pero esto no significa que antes la gente fuera ingenua, solo esperando el día en que alguien descubriera algo para que al fin la civilización comenzara.

El mundo no estaba esperándonos para que al fin, nosotros que conocemos los errores de la historia salváramos el día. Somos igual de tontos que antes, solo ahora tenemos más pantallas y menos mundo enfrente de nosotros.

DeVotchKa

2011-07-09T20:27:00.000-05:00

We talked about DeVotchKa the other day. It is (very) worth listening. :)

Something changed.

2011-07-07T20:18:00.000-05:00

Today, I would like to start by quoting some lines of (500) days of summer:

Most days of the year are unremarkable. They begin, and they end, with no lasting memories made in between. Most days have no impact on the course of a life. May 23rd was a Wednesday.

It took a long time but Tom had finally learned. There are no miracles. There's no such thing as fate. Nothing is meant to be. He knew. He was sure of it now.

And end by posting this video:

Mood humming.

2011-07-05T19:55:00.000-05:00

Poom dun tu rum,
poom dun tu rum,
poom dun tu rum,
POOM DUN TU RUM,
DUUUUUN.

What kind of music did you hear when you read this?
I'm very curious about this one.

L’odeur et la saveur restent encore longtemps.

2011-07-03T19:38:00.001-05:00

While reading your post Zooranting, I wikiquoted Proust and felt the need to post this:

Mais, quand d’un passé ancien rien ne subsiste, après la mort des êtres, après la destruction des choses, seules, plus frêles mais plus vivaces, plus immatérielles, plus persistantes, plus fidèles, l’odeur et la saveur restent encore longtemps, comme des âmes, à se rappeler, à attendre, à espérer, sur la ruine de tout le reste, à porter sans fléchir, sur leur gouttelette presque impalpable, l’édifice immense du souvenir.
Et dès que j’eus reconnu le goût du morceau de madeleine trempé dans le tilleul que me donnait ma tante (quoique je ne susse pas encore et dusse remettre à bien plus tard de découvrir pourquoi ce souvenir me rendait si heureux), aussitôt la vieille maison grise sur la rue, où était sa chambre, vint comme un décor de théâtre.
---------
When from a long-distant past nothing subsists, after the people are dead, after the things are broken and scattered, still, alone, more fragile, but with more vitality, more unsubstantial, more persistent, more faithful, the smell and taste of things remain poised a long time, like souls, ready to remind us, waiting and hoping for their moment, amid the ruins of all the rest; and bear unfaltering, in the tiny and almost impalpable drop of their essence, the vast structure of recollection.
And once again I had recognized the taste of the crumb of madeleine soaked in her decoction of lime-flowers which my aunt used to give me (although I did not yet know and must long postpone the discovery of why this memory made me so happy), immediately the old gray house upon the street, where her room was, rose up like the scenery of a theater.

In Search of Lost Time: Vol I: Swann's Way, Marcel Proust

Mansion's tale

2011-07-02T19:46:00.001-05:00

Remember the Golden Boy? The one who inherited the throne as king of brains. Well, I (we) went to his eighteen year old birthday party. I don't remember the invitation, but being there we reckoned that he was throwing a massive celebration not because it was in his character such extravagant fest, but because being as Victorian as he is, he saw fitting to follow the tradition of big-fat-crazy parties for boys reaching manhood (yearight). But of course he made it so that both family and friends would have a good time.

Where else could that have been, other than the Mysterious Mansion/Mall. You know, it's actually a little weird that the building is half a mall and half a mansion, but nobody cares, it's just a fusion of bourgeois elements in one decadent symbol of squander. (it's quite cool). It's also funny how nobody knows who owns the place, its sort of a secret society, but we all know that they go by the pseudonym of Mae West. So much for a rotten feminist symbol huh?

Anyway, I don't remember seeing you at any point of the party, so I'll tell you my version of the night, because even if you don't believe me, I was not half as drunk as you think I was. The things I do remember are rather blurry, but the ones you think I don't are not blank, they are memories of something else that happened that night, something I can't really put together, but I'll try. I still don't know why I can't seem to glimpse my arm.

At first a group of people (extras) and I were walking around the mall/mansion, talking about how hard must it had been for TheGoldenBoy to get such a place, not just for the money, but the contacts and such affairs. I had never been in the mansion, decoration was rather eclectic from room to room, deco to gothic to radical activist to rainbow road to plain kitsch. There was this boy I don't remember from anywhere, but we were hanging around the Mall. We commented on the grotesque structures, made for numbing shopping at the day, they seemed so stupid and pointless at night, like a fat lizard on the tundra.

Back at the party I remember drinking a bit, but not enough to hallucinate, I think. We danced like morons and sang the most ridiculous of tunes as if they meant something in this teenage wasteland fest. But through the furious head pumping and heap vectorizing, I still felt I had to be somewhere/sometime else. I'm always feeling it in these types of events, it's a strong pull that tells me I'm not where I'm supposed to be, that probably I forgot a rendez-vous, a wedding, a first day of school, a first love, a burning house. There is a place in the universe where I'm being pulled at, and it's not the mansion's dance floor.

So I start moving, I have to get there. Where? I don't care, does it matter? But I have to get there, so I walk past rooms of the Mae West halls. Is it a room there? Am I looking for you? Am I looking for me? Who's looking after me? After a while I'm just lost, wandering the many rooms until I find one where I hear voices. There's people and lights, but as soon as I enter they vanish, poof. It's dark, a bathroom I think. Yes, it is a bathroom, now I can see everything, but it is huge, there are bath tubs everywhere I look at, all installed, all prepared for anyone to wash away the night's anxieties and go back to the spree. I need to shower, I have nothing on me, but I need to shower.

Choosing the right tub she appears, Mae West, or so she says. I recognize her right away, she's the Kite's Rich-fake-aunt. (the one we like). She doesn't really remember me at first, but as soon as I make the Kite sign, she knows I'm for real. This is too ridiculous, I tell her. She doesn't care and begins to tell me all about the secret society who own the Mansion and how she's part of it, and being a woman doesn't mean she can't be masonic and all. I think that's an old discourse, and I tell her about feminism, it is not about making the woman superior but equal, it is about freeing women and men. Men? Yes, from their stigmas and social duties that make them insensitive and stereotypical. Fuck men, they had it coming, she says. She proceeds to take a shower.

I look away and shower too, I never take off my clothes, but I shower. At some point I was again with the same boy I criticized the mall with, he knew where I was supposed to be, so I followed him. Now, this is where people say I went to the party, soaked in water/alcohol/blood (varying in gossip versions), to shake my cochleas like a maniac, and then ran off with strangers(yes, plural.). But, this couldn't have happened, because I was with the guy, who we will now call Red. He and I had gone to another dimension, or something like that it seemed.

I know how that sounds, but you gotta trust that is all I can make out of the memory. It was as if we were inside a ship, near the machine room. It was -as if- because I knew it was a make believe, we were inside the idea of a ship, so I can't really say we were still in the same dimension, let alone mansion. In this ship we had to save someone, but it was all alone. We had to procure its safety, but it was drowned in the bottom of the Baltic sea. I started to tell Red I was uncomfortable there, the place was a ghost. This is where we are supposed to be, you know it called for you, he said. I didn't care, this was not what I wanted the place to be, this was not the calling I was dreaming for.

Then there was black, and red. And were on the surface and something went on for several years inside a canteen, but I can't remember any of that, I just know it happened.

The mourning after, I went back to the mall, hoping nobody had noticed my departure for years. As if nothing, I gathered around everyone, they were all hang over, sharing the missing/invented pieces of the night, writing the official version of what had happened yesterday. The same old stories, mistake make-outs, lost V-cards, embarrassing singing and twisted confessions. The Golden Boy/Man was having fun, as Victorian as ever, but amused by us mortals.

Then I saw you, at first you were one more of the crowd, but you looked at my arm, then at me and you turned around. In my hand I was holding a beer bottle, which was not crazy weird, but I just didn't remember when had I grabbed it. Then I looked at my arm, it was blurry. I couldn't make out the lines, the color, the texture, nothing. My arm is a blurry memory which I couldn't glimpse. Then you stared at me again.

You ask if I remembered, if I wasn't playing dumb before. I don't know what you are talking about and so you approach me, really close. You ask me if I remember, and I can't make out your expression, if you're talking about something great or something horrible. Your face comes really close to mine, and I can make it out. It's the first thing I can really define. You ask once more, do you, or don't you remember that last night...

It's over. I have my arm back, but I guess you and that night are lost forever.

Fantastic Mr.Fox

2011-07-01T19:20:00.000-05:00

Forget super... ignore incredible... it's all about fantastic.

Mr. Fox: Allright, let's start planning. Who knows shorthand?
Mr. Fox: Great! Linda! Lutra lutra - you got some dry paper?
Mr. Fox: Here we go. Mole! Talpa europaea! What d'you got?
Mole: I can see in the dark.
Mr. Fox: That's incredible! We can use that! Linda?
Linda: Got it.
Mr. Fox: Rabbit! Oryctolagus cuniculus!
Rabbit: I'm fast.
Mr. Fox: You bet you are. Linda?
Linda: Got it.
Mr. Fox: Beaver! Castor fiber!
Beaver: I can chew through wood.
Mr. Fox: Amazing! Linda!
Linda: Got it.
Mr. Fox: Badger! Meles meles!
Badger: Demolitions expert.
Mr. Fox: What? Since when?
Badger: Explosions! Flames! Burning things!

This is one of the most epic movies in the world. I love it.

Mexico, bien pinche pretencioso

2011-06-30T21:32:00.006-05:00

me gustaría hablar de lo que me hizo pensar hoy. pero esto de hacer posts, publicar algo escrito hace a las cosas muy legitimas. y no creo que nada de mi opinión a cerca del tema sea digno de legitimar, ya que es mucho más complejo que un simple post perdido en el mundo.

El tema es de los indígenas en México.

pero en verdad es una critica antropológica a la cultura occidental y a la construcción de la realidad.

Veran, hay dos corrientes muy notables cuando se trata de los indigenas:

1) La más común, jurarse colonial y discriminar a "los pinches inditos" que seguro nada saben, nada entienden, no tienen tele ni carro. Son pobres porque no son blancos y no van a colegios ni universidades, pero bueno, pobrecitos hay que ver si les podemos mandar unas limosnas.

2) Menos común: Las bases de la cultura mexicana, la verdadera cultura madre de donde todos partimos y de la cual deberíamos estar todos bastante orgullosos. En sus valores se mantiene la rectitud, la honra y todo aquello honorable en la condición humana, y su conexión con la naturaleza denota un entendimiento superior del funcionamiento de las relaciones humano-ambiente-espíritu.

Como en todo estereotipo, la mayoría se encuentra en algún punto entre los dos extremos. Si estas leyendo esto, lo más seguro es que sea tender hacia la 2, y seguro esperas que este post te de medio la razón. pues no.

Creo que ambas posturas tienen sus vicios y desfaces de la realidad.

La primera me parece obvia. Culturas diferentes, respeto, derechos humanos, no eres pinche junacamanei (sp), bájale de huevos, date cuenta que eres un retrograda de quinta si te cruza poquito por la cabeza. ( en el -todosevale- diría que cada quien, pero ahora si que con esto no)

Mis problemas con la visión 2 son varios, y el más grande de todos es con la gente que se jura super-socialmente-consciente sintiendo mucho orgullo por sus raíces indigenas, las cuales aprecia desde lo más honda, porque como Mexicano se reconoce parte de una herencia indigena.

Por favor, dense cuenta que idioma hablan, dense cuenta que religión profesa la mayoría de la población, abran los ojos hacia los ideales que imponemos sobre nuestra sociedad.

No-pinchen-mamen más herencia española-europea no podríamos tener, y no veo a nadie comprando camisas típicas ibéricas o investigando profecías de folclore español. Y eso es porque en todos lados en México se esfuerzan mucho por enaltecer nuestra herencia indígena, vea nada más por favor el fervor por el arte prehispánico. Cuando en realidad los grupos indígenas en México son los más vulnerables, marginados y subyugados por el sistema.

Comprate todas las pulceritas chiapanecas que quieras, ponte blusitas de manta en verano, y si quieres presume tus huaraches (super in) que compraste en San Cristobal. Eso no cambia que los pueblos indígenas esten olvidados en su mayoría, tratando de sobrevivir el hostil sistema que tratamos de imponer en todo lo que se mueve.

Bajo ninguna circunstancia estoy negando las raíces indigenas del país, están ahí, pero me parece ridículo que se busque enaltecer sus valores, siendo que en verdad muy poco se hace por buscar equidad. Se habla de mantener tradiciones vivas, se habla de ayudar a las comunidades, de hacer programas para ponerles pisos y carreteras. ¿Pero nos detenemos a pensar en la búsqueda de equidad, de ver como somos culturas diferentes, pero iguales?

El segundo punto por el que creo que esta pretensión está "equivocada" es por el hecho que elevar a un concepto tan romántico estos valores y cultura, al grado de hacerlos ver como el modo utópico de vida soslayado por el cruel hombre blanco, en mi opinión lo aleja. Alejas a la cultura haciéndolo un icono de pureza y rectitud, y lo alejas de tal manera que se vuelve ajeno completamente a una realidad, se vuelve más bien una letanía de una sociedad perdida.

Este tipo de idealización provoca la desvinculación, a la ya de por si perdida cultura. Además, vale la pena considerar que esta visión es completamente sesgada y subjetiva. No que haya otro tipo de visión. Pero hay que darnos cuenta quien lo está viendo, y esos somos nosotros, una cultura occidentalizada, siervos del neo liberalismo, atormentados/amortiguados por el post-modernismo. (al que le quede, pongaselo). Hay que darnos cuenta que estas son visiones de NOSOTROS a cerca de ELLOS, en su mayoría tienen un trasfondo de querer ser políticamente correctos al contar a cerca de la vida indígena desde nuestros paradigmas y concepciones propias.

Obviamente ya me di en la torre, asumiendo que esto es también una visión des contextualizada.

Sería imposible hacer una visión objetiva, pero esto no es lo que se busca. Lo que trato de decir, más que nada, es que debemos percatarnos que cualquier intento nuestro por percibir la cultura ajena y enaltecerla o degradarla la aleja de la equidad.

Abramos los ojos, veamos otras realidades, pero no perdamos de vista nuestros ojos mismos. Y aguas, porque el daltonismo puede no diagnosticarse nunca.

Adiós.

2011-06-29T19:16:00.001-05:00

Y por las malas aprendimos a no querernos, a enterrarnos cuando el corazón apretaba, a quedarnos callados, a no escribir sobre los desamores a la luz de la vela.
¿Cómo te dejo si eres el muso de mi desencanto? ¿Si hace tanto que no escribo?
Lo malo del dolor es que a veces se disfruta, lo bueno es que mata.
Eso pasa por querer abrazarnos con los puños cerrados, con los ojos abiertos y los labios ardiendo.
Adiós.

Pop

2011-06-28T19:22:00.002-05:00

Blogs were supposed to be this sort of proto-tumblr where one would tell his adventures in the web right? I mean, nowadays it's rather a collection of pseudo-diary records/opinions with poetic/political aspirations. I'm 100% sure I've talked about this before, but who cares (remembers)?

Today I'll show you I'm the penguin at his most pop. Showing you one of my favorite photographers, which in the eyes of alternative/hipsters would be sacrilege for being so commercial, but ask me if I care. He's a father fucking genius.

Without further ado, I present you very talented: David LaChapelle

must see: this, and this

I don't want your ugly, I don't want your disease, because in the long run it's not gonna be free

Atento en estos días de calor.

2011-06-27T23:36:00.000-05:00

Tómate tu tiempo. Respira profundamente para mantener el pulso.
Se que la emoción y la ansiedad pueden estar muy presentes, pero es clave mantener la calma.
Observa como se mueve y no hagas nada, al menos las primeras tres veces que decida detenerse convenientemente frente a ti. Parecerá que la estás dejando ir por siempre, pero repito, no desesperes. Las herramientas son importantes, pero no demasiado. No seas muy pretencioso, tus manos hábiles pueden ser suficiente si has sido entrenado en estas complicadas artes.
Ya que tengas bien estudiados sus movimientos, no lo medites demasiado y lánzate, rápido pero preciso (tener un fondo contrastante puede ser muy útil). Si no estás usando herramientas, tendrás que cerrar la mano en el momento preciso y atraparla. A mucha gente le da asco hacer esto a mano limpia por lo que recomendamos usar algún tipo de protección o artefacto, al menos las primeras veces.
Atento, que en estos días de calor abundan sobre todo moscas con relleno. A nadie le gustaría abrir la mano para encontrarse con una pasta de huérfanas larvas amarillas retorciéndose.

Zooranting

2011-06-26T20:08:00.000-05:00

When we are 50, what will I remember about now?

That's a question that has got me thinking a lot lately, because of course we will all have idealized versions of what our youth was, but how much will I have to back up that idealism? At some point I feel a little overwhelmed with the responsibility I have to my own future, and that's just ridiculously neurotic.

I'm that character am I not? The worrying owl.

I can cling on to the ideas and the friends, which are the best there is. i suppose. And the shinning wit and the passion for irony. The bonobos and bitch fight clubs. There's some unicorn dancing on the way, somewhere.

Thinking about the characters we are I remembered our talk, and my posts. And like you said, there are characters we can only play with some people, and if they're gone, there goes our role. And while I love the dramatic penguin and the freaky owl, I wish I could get the part of the quirky wolf more often. There's something about wishing and entropy that is fun just to leave out there.

Because there's little or no difference between nostalgia and yearning for the future. And there is such a romantic feel to nostalgia.

Que añito.

2011-06-25T23:04:00.000-05:00

Me dices, "No eres tú." y te digo "No eres tú."
Ese es precisamente el problema: nunca fuimos nosotros.
Y te puedo decir que me gustas cuando callas, y buscar esta noche tu boca en otra boca.
Decidir irme de exploradora y agradecerte por ser un embustero.
Quizás lo haga, quizás llore ahora y ría luego.
Pero no. Ni voy a escribir los versos más tristes ésta noche, ni me mato si te muertes.

Lo único que pienso es:
"Vaya, que añito."

Presente vendado

2011-06-24T12:46:00.000-05:00

Hoy leí esto

"El hombre atraviesa el presente con los ojos vendados, sólo puede intuir y adivinar lo que de verdad está viviendo; y después, cuando le quitan la venda de los ojos, puede mirar al pasado y comprobar qué es lo que ha vivido y cuál era su sentido."

Kundera

En cierto modo es la excusa perfecta que he buscado por años para ser tan ausente, para armar presente una vez terminado, atesorarlo como nunca fue y esperar un futuro que jamás será como lo esperaba. Pero quizá solo era yo.no, a fin de cuentas todos pecamos de soñadores que no?

Cuando se sufre de una insoportable levedad, no queda más que asumir que la única manera de amar al presente es verlo hacia atrás, que el tiempo juega con nosotros porque nos atrapa siempre unos cuantos segundos en el futuro, esperando luces que no se verán, dejando pasar instantes fugaces que tardaran siglos en volver.

Y te preguntas entonces, qué diablos es el presente si no un sin fin de pequeños pedazos que llegan antes de que te des cuenta, y de la misma forma se van. Solo queda estar lo más atento posible al segundo que pasó y esperar que nos demos cuenta que nos quemamos antes de que llegue al hueso.

-If you spend all your life with one foot on the past and the other in the future, you'll end up pissing on the present.- QaF

Salty

2011-06-23T22:43:00.003-05:00

And if you’re good when your body dies, will they use your bones to salt the skies?

Driftless Pony Club

If I die now all I want from you is to remember who I am and who I've always been.
If I die now what is the point of all my memories? It won't be long until they're gone you'll see.

Friska Viljor
remember this post?

Regrets, I've had a few, but then again, too many to mention.

Morrissey
when singing 'My Way'

Sabes que

2011-06-22T21:28:00.000-05:00

Sabes que eres bien pinche raro cuando...

te das cuenta que ya hiciste un habito el encontrar un grupo de gente nueva y sospechar que uno tiene capacidad leementes; comenzar a confundirlo y tratar de jugar con su mente por si acaso interrumpe la privacidad de tu fortalezadesoledad.

Sabes que ya valió madres el crush cuando...

en una sola conversación te dice "ay amigo" más de tres veces. #foreveralone

Sabes que ya eres un #universitariopretencioso cuando...

tus ultimas tres conversaciones necesitaron que usaras la frase -cambio de paradigmas-

Sabes que ya valió madres tu inspiración para hacer posts cuando...

...

La canción.

2011-06-21T14:59:00.000-05:00

Suena una guitarrita sin corazón.

Y pensamos que nos habla, que nos está dirigiendo la palabra. Mientras hacemos muecas al recordar ese último momento sin querer se ríe y toca algo más alegre. Para no perdernos, para tenernos al borde de la silla. Y luego regresa a su son desalmado.

Ya nos tiene ahí y lo sabe. Te dice cosas que solo tu podrías saber, como si te hubiera estado siguiendo todo este tiempo, esperando el momento adecuado para introducir una percusión que cale.

A veces cala porque dice la verdad, a veces por decir las mentiras que querías escuchar.
Y al final, querrás cambiar de melodía, pero la verdad es que estás solo, y sólo ella te entiende, sólo ella puede compartir tu dolor y hacerte disfrutarlo.

La maldita logra entrar a una playlist, y de repente estar sola, y tocar, y tocar, y tocar...

Espacio

2011-06-20T22:56:00.003-05:00

Últimamente me da por evocar al espacio como la sucesión universal.

Se busca instructor jocoso que muestre los segundos que una pendiente tarda en hacer las rodillas temblar, los muros más allá del concreto y los colores que componen algo más allá de un edificio. Las caras de una ciudad que en el bullicio de lo cotidiano murmuran sus historias e intenciones, las lineas necesarias para crear terrible vértigo a nivel del asfalto.

Se busca maestro de espacio que no se detenga por juegos de tiempo.

Reunión, sólamente.

2011-06-19T00:37:00.002-05:00

Nos recibieron con champán, ofrecido por uniformados.
Rodeadas de grandes aires de glamour de sábado por la noche.
Busco caras familiares, y al fracasar durante el primer sondeo y medio me decido a bajar la mirada y esperar a que ella encuentre a alguien a quien saludar, para yo seguir como la sombra-señorita introducida a socieda'. (guácala)
Lo esperado sucede, y comienzo a saludar por detrás y enseguida, mientras me presentan con nombre y parentesco. No está tan mal. He visto a muchas de estas personas, es sólo cuestión de que se encuentren de humor esa noche para amablemente buscar iniciar una charla con la niña perdida. La niña de 20 años que debería estar en otro lado. Quizás, sólo quizás, les interese un poco preguntarme que es de mi vida, pero no, la mayoría manda pequeñas piedrecillas (no lo hace realmente, pero así lo siento yo) con frases estilo '¿te acuerdas de mi hija? es de tu edad.' Siento que me lo dicen de manera personal, como un: 'no deberías estar aquí, no te vamos a ayudar a sentir comoda, bye.'
Ciertamente hay hostilidad en el ambiente, pero dudo que se trate de lo que acabo de mencionar. Creo que va mucho más lejos. A pocos les podría importar que yo esté ahí. Y no es que sea yo, no es el momento emo del blog ni mucho menos, simplemente no creo que a muchos les importe en principio quien está ahí. Tan pronto ven un apellido (en verdad parece que lo ven, no estoy segura de que lo hagan, quizás es solo un feeling que les da) se lanzan como perros hambrientos a discutir el siguiente negocio, soltar la risita de 'claro, claro'
Este comportamiento es válido. Todas las reuniones de esta gente son iguales, crecí viéndolas y teniendo una relación algo similar con sus hijos, pero en petite. Pero nunca lo había visto en una fiesta de cumpleaños. It's sad, actually.
Ella se va a hacer lo suyo, y me deja por ahí a la merced de las miradas que no me conocen. Tuiteo en mi soledad. Luego veo un nicho disponible. Corro, corro, corro.
Platico finalmente. Me invitan a platicar a un grupo más grande y me juro.
Se marcha de la fiesta mi 'padrino' de socieda'.
Me quiero ir.
A los dos días me entero que me aman. Que todas las fantasías Ivyleagueanas que tuve tienen sus fundamentos que no están en mi cabeza ni eran parte de una ingenuidad adolescente. Pero ahora que soy LA del tema que les interesa. Sacan el billete.
A ver que tal.

Moleskine wannabe nunca más

2011-06-18T14:40:00.000-05:00

El mundo celuloso en el que me dejé exorcisar de mi mismo hoy parece decir que mis pasados sobrepasan la capacidad para resarcir futuros presentes.

¿Qué tanto es simbolo de un cierto fin?

Not hapi [sic]

2011-06-17T15:36:00.000-05:00

Hapi, you got my name wrong, and something tells me you got yours wrong too. Probably you're trying to reference your mood with your pseudonym and it's alright, but maybe you would be happier if you could spell right.
By the way, I'm Mrs. K, we're not in the fusion-mode anymore.
No hapi, I don't want Glitter Effect Mouse Pointer in our Blog. I'm sorry hapi, but I couldn't think of something tackier, (well I could, maybe. No, glitter mouse pointer is too much for me)
I know you think we could be friends, but it just won't work, you're a bot and I'm a person, or maybe it's the other way around.
It's probably not you, it's me and my rejection towards spam bots. It's not my intention, and it's is not your fault, it's just the way I was raised.
Nevertheless, I hope you find someone. Someone like you that loves spam, and enjoys navigating trough the internet as they find obscure blogs like this one.
I really do.
I wish you only the best.
Au revoir.

Cielo

2011-06-16T12:26:00.000-05:00

Si pudieramos solo pausar, extraviarnos y contemplar.

El Cielo de Canarias / Canary sky - Tenerife from Daniel López on Vimeo.

If freckles don't mean anything does anything mean anything?
we're just twinlking stars resurrected.

Home home home.

2011-06-15T15:28:00.000-05:00

This is my first day back home. Yesterday night was not very significant in a being-home-acknowledgment way. Still.
I wake up to see the white tall ceiling. 'This is not my ceiling' I say to myself.
It feels a lot hotter, the room is bigger, and there's a large window which I finally recognize as my old house. My 'real' house, the house I left but never abandoned.
I tell myself it's going to be a reading summer, I see the book by my side, but instead I grab my iPod and listen to some music.
Finally, when I feel too hot, I get out of bed. I go to the TV and watch some quality comedies with my brother as I grab some cereal.
And for a while, just for a little while, it is as if I never left... then, I can't find the sugar in the kitchen, or the cables for the stereo.
I realize I don't live here anymore.

Del cuerpo y el ser

2011-06-14T00:01:00.002-05:00

Mi mano es suave

Mi cabeza es impredecible

Mi pie es rosa

Mis dientes son cúmulos de calcio y nervios

(no, no es pésima poesía)

¿Has notado como para hablar del cuerpo usamos posesivos? Cual si fueran entidades externas a aquello que somos, ajenos a nuestra esencia.

Yo no soy mi cuerpo.

Entonces que soy, si no soy mis posesiones. Ciertamente al morir, dejamos de ser, pero el cuerpo permanece, ¿sera entonces que conservamos un sentido heredado de lo ajeno de la corporeidad?

A poco inconscientemente nos damos un trip tal que fracturamos la materia del ser, y asumimos que el cuerpo nos pertenece, pero nosotros lo trascendemos, cual espíritus silfides ante la inmensidad.

Cualquiera podría decir que le hecho crema a los tacos y que solo es cosa del lenguaje. Claro. Pero eso sería todavía más interesante, porque esto significa que nuestra forma de estructurar lenguajes (solo puedo decirlo de los que usan partes del cuerpo con posesivos) está estructurada de tal forma que solo podemos entender un fenómeno una ves que lo analizamos, lo desmembramos, y entonces los asimilamos.

Partimos al cuerpo en partes, las desvinculamos de un todo para que tengan esencia propia. Y esto no es nada del otro mundo, ya perdí la cuenta del numero de posts que le he dedicado a decir que la lógica occidental lo que hace es partir ideas en cachos digeribles, masticarlos y abstraerlos (y tratar de no estreñirse).

Pero aquí no hablo de la construcción social intersubjetiva ni choros del tipo. Hablo de como formamos nuestra visión de nosotros mismos, como es que a pesar de ser, los sesgos con los que vemos al mundo son los mismos con los que nos percibimos a nosotros mismos.

Y esto me lleva a una duda jalapelos, ¿donde acabamos nosotros y donde empieza el mundo externo del que tanto nos (me) gusta hablar? ¿La frontera es el cuerpo?¿ Entonces donde está la mente?

ideas del post robadísimas de un capitulo de Diary of a Bad Year de Coetzee

That's life.

2011-06-13T01:40:00.002-05:00

They say that's life.
I was back on top on June.
Then I wasn't, and just now I'm going back up.
This last days have been too much for me. Now I just really really go to my forest and stay there for a long time. I don't want to see this city in a while. I have tons of beautiful things to read, beautiful friends to see. In this moment, I regret everything I said about the Friday I'm in love business. Lets just forget about that and go to read something, watch some movies, live the hipster life I miss so much. I need that right now. Very mucho.

I've been a puppet, a pauper, a pirate,
A poet, a pawn and a king.
I've been up and down and over and out
And I know one thing:
Each time I find myself, flat on my face,
I pick myself up and get back in the race.

The tripod

2011-06-12T00:12:00.000-05:00

I'm sure you remember this movie. It won Sundance 2004 I think. Because of the unpredictable plot, the deep characters and their powerful gender equity message. You loved the film, remember?

Please don't think I'm stealing a conversation of ours to do a post. (I don't usually do it this shamelessly).

About this blockbuster you only have to remember the ending. "I will always remember... the tripod"

Sure, the characters are never really joined in brotherhood-like adventures until the very end, but who cares. They're the fucking tripod.

And yes, this is lame, and such, but this is tots our movie. The same feeling of pathetic noobishness and unadventures that makes this movie plot-bearable are the kind of crap we went trough. And I wouldn't change it for the world, my dearest tripod.

@DHL @Mrs.K

(se juraba en twitter el)

Overwhelmed

2011-06-11T00:21:00.001-05:00

I don't know how to start this particular post.
I know what I want to get out, but I just can't.
I would like to disappear for a little while, or go back in time.
But it just gets me thinking about some philosopher-convo I recently had.
And it also, somehow a reply to your last post.
Everything in life, (even life itself) might be incredibly special, or incredibly random and unimportant.
If you seat and think about all the things that had to happen to get you into a specific situation or moment, you see all the small turning points of the story, how every single detail influenced somehow what you're doing.
Does that make life incredible amazing and special? Just imagine the wonderfulness of being here and that all those elements collided.
Or does that make life so incredible random, so unspecial because in a fraction of a second everything could've just changed?

I don't know what to think right now.
I just know I hadn't felt so overwhelmed in a long while.
I want the world to stop.

Same old ramble

2011-06-10T18:53:00.000-05:00

Today (yesterday) I didn't have many of those moments where I realize something about life, or take a picture, or do anything blog worthy. I think.

I saw dearest DHL, had some unexpected waffles and at the end I went back to kiddie times.

Things could have probably gone different. A day earlier I was about to take out 6 great movies, maybe today I would have 6 epiphanies, or maybe I would have written a poem, a short story, something inspired by great works of art. Must surly just another crappy art-wannabe-essay. But that would've been something.

It could have gone differently by us going to the bookstore and finding something/someone interesting. Maybe a book would have changed my life completely, or maybe just a magazine article, who knows?

And instead of going to the kiddie times I could have ran to the teenage vampire slaying decadence with my Faiths. That could've ended in rainbow joy. But it didn't.

I could be different person today, maybe. But I'm not.(amI?)

That's something we sort of miss out of sight, everyday there are things that shape us, and we never know when we could have easily missed the chance to a great perhaps, or the last fall, or the first love. Sure, I've been talking about this same shit for centuries now, but it never ends to amaze just how much we leave to uncertainty about our lives.

And the amount of responsibility we give to uncertainty, fearing its just our choices that are making our lives what they are.

Get them to love you,
while the may depending
on your words and wealth,
the only one who's really
judging you is yourself.
Nobody else.

Silence.

2011-06-09T00:05:00.000-05:00

I want to post about Silence.

J'écouterai ton silence, et me perdrai dans tes yeux fermés, dans tes mots compliqués et tes idées... surtout dans tes idées.

-Mrs. K

What if we made up the words for silence? (La-di-la-da.)
Would it be sights?
Would it be sighs?
Would you take my hand?

I would like some silence in the dark,
to feel your breath without a sound,
to be your guide no matter what,
to sleep so tight, between your thighs.

We might not be able to bring back those days
I might not find you anywhere
but we'll always have that land of silence.

(*the words above, particularly the ones on italics are inspired mainly by the following song, and some other songs by the same artist, I'm a huge fan.)

Seems as though the years have come
when you and I like brick and stone
Made up the words for silence.

And conversations kept roaming around
Out quest for trasures remained unfound
in the land of silence.

On and on the break of dawn is our new song.
Here, take my hand
before it hits the ground.
Oh, darling, you're my sound!

Long ago they said to me:
"You know there's a cost for living free",
but I don't have a wallet
'cause life depends on water.

On and on the break of dawn is our new song.
Here, take my hand
before it hits the ground.
Oh, darling, you're my sound!

We cannot bring back the days of laughter,
the goal we're after,
'cause I know that I
will live a life that's free of strife from pain and sorrow,
today and tomorrow
'cause love is my device.

Doesn't matter if I leave this Earth
and no one remembers my date of birth
I'll always be beside her,
in the land of silence.

We cannot bring back the days of laughter,
the goal we're after,
'cause I know that I
will live a life that's free of strife from pain and sorrow,
today and tomorrow
'cause love is my device.

Seems as though the years have come
when you and I like brick and stone
Made up the words for silence.

Silence by Urrusti

Ah.

Hollywood and art

2011-06-08T22:16:00.003-05:00

Words are flying out like endless rain into a paper cup

There's this... dream, it's more like a day dream. We are inside this garden, and I only know it's a garden because we feel so calm, so eased. We're not bored, we're not anxious, we're not waiting for anything. This garden smells like the English-speaking-bookstore, and it's fresh, and we're looking through books. They're all what we wanted, and when we touch them we get the feeling you have when the book has finally cut trough the skin and become part of you. We are devastated by the most overwhelming pains, and giggle with ridiculous banalities. It's only the three of us, and we chat about everything and nothing. And words just spill, making static bonds with the particles of air that hold us together.

Images of broken light which dance before me like a million eyes

Growing up movies meant for me, the easiest way to get a story told, through actors and solid imagery an entertaining story was shown. Growing up in the 90s it was mostly Hollywood formulas that inserted cliques and archetypes into my head, making it easier to understand stories as a whole and, sometimes, people too.

But then I became narrative conscious and started seeing how scripts were made as a formula and the whole business was ran by entertaining purposes based on star systems and making whatever people wanted to see. This led to me finding out there were movies that were well scripted, and thus were art. Sometimes they looked sort of pretty too. Because to my literary based creativity, a movie was just a medium to express a story.

And eventually I was told that the cinematography actually started being an art when the story scripted on words was superseded by the story told by the cameras. In every change of angle, in every closeup to the tear, every wide shot of a forest were not just props, it was the camera telling its own story. A language which consists on many complex linguistic and semantic constructions, and it is there, and it is what makes movies to be actually movies.

It was only then when I was not watching the adaptation of written scripts (for those too lazy to read), but realizing there was something else. And so I began watching cinema, not just block busters. It would be easy to blame Hollywood for making me believe movies were just cheap entertainment, and the lazy alternative of books. I could blame it all on it for blinding me away from the art and shoving entertaining formulas down my throat.

But it would be not just Hollywood, but the entire system I suppose. It got me thinking how every expression of art needs some context, some knowledge to appreciate fully. And if such thing is true, shouldn't education focus also on the ability to appreciate art? Isn't art an expression of society, and if so, shouldn't we all be mildly instructed on how to get it?

Personally, I think it's the same reason why the showbiz tries so hard to keep us away from reality. Art is reality, entertainment is mind numbing. We need to start understanding art its not just there so pretentious bourgeois can feel cultured in museums, galleries and independent film theaters. Art is the expression of a context, a culture, a series of transparent constructions which elude simplicity, and as such we can't just take it lightly. Beauty and truth are not to be taken lightly. (whatever they are)

Limitless undying love which shines around me like a million suns It calls me on and on across the universe

The dream team

2011-06-07T00:17:00.001-05:00

I think we were/are.
Remember those labs?

Librotecas

2011-06-06T23:41:00.003-05:00

No aún al menos...

Queridísima Mrs.K. hoy encontré esto y obviamente pensé de inmediato en ti. Divagaba y deambulaba en mi bosque favorito: la biblioteca.

Ahí me encontré a Galeano por accidente, de nuevo. Comienza a parecer más tradición que eventualidad eso de perderme entre los místicos pasillos polvorosos solo para acabar justo donde se esconden dichos libros. Cual faro, murmuran bellas, críticas y absurdas palabras que hacen que termine en el mismo lugar. Hay un libro en particular: Palabras andantes.

Ya de por si el solo título hace que uno se sonría con la imagen, pero las historias que ahí viven, mueren y se deshacen son juegos de palabras que las ideas no se atreverían a pronunciar. Una compilación de pequeños cuentos y pensamientos que por si mismos son bellos, violentos, absurdos y mágicos. A final de cuentas se roban un pedazo de ti que por siempre vivirá con Calamity Jane, buscando su lugar en el mundo.

Rambling about music and convos.

2011-06-05T00:44:00.002-05:00

Lately, I've been thinking a lot about our shining wit and our passion for irony.
about people say I'm crazy doing what I'm doing,
and flying like paper and getting higher than planes.

There's something just wonderful about communication. The ability to let someone else know something you're thinking about. It makes me think about mirror neurons, language, consciousness, and that sort of things, but it also makes me think about art, about music.
The music referenced above obviously reminds me of you, Mr. Penguin (We made a film-Tom Milsom, Watching The Wheels-John Lennon and Paper Planes-M.I.A.)
Sometimes, I find myself über engaged to a lyric, and feeling there's no best way of describing what I'm feeling than that song, to the extent of which it actually becomes annoying for being such a cliché. But I stop caring as I fall asleep with my iPod.

That's one thing I wanted to put out there, the other thing, is about a conversation with our other very dear amiga y siempre compañera del desencanto. Referring to the graspability of reality, for us scientists it's all alright if the universe can actually be understood, but if it isn't, then what? She said something like: 'What if it isn't? maybe it's just like a huge canvas that we can just observe, admire, enjoy.' I answered something like, 'Maybe, but as scientists we also get to paint.' Ah, bring me some philosopher's cookies please! ( :D )
So, lets hope we can have some nice chat on that kitchen table of yours I miss so deeply.

Love.

Apes and people

2011-06-04T20:38:00.004-05:00

It's weird, yesterday I was at a fancy place, socializing and whatnot, today I did physical work at the forest. In one I felt like a pretending ape, in the other like a person (whatever.that.is)

Let me context you.

Yesterday I was in front of a group of people who could hardly care less about the misinterpretations that make me me. Don't think I'm going soft, I'm used to this, the difference is that with this particular group I'm forced to act like there are bonds beyond affection, when there's really only boredom and avoidance. But anyway, it was time to pretend.

So we drank expensive wine, held our glasses up high and celebrated the presumptuous clique. Bossa nova and a mix of this-month-hits was heard in the background while the most snob (pretteh!) decoration surrounded us. And everyone there had this self-assurance that this was it, being at the peak of upper-middle class social ladder, having disposable income, dining at the best place in town, chatting about the most trivial of subjects and managing to include some -culture- so to feel educated.

Get jobs in offices, and wake up for the morning commute.

It was as if we were all apes, eating each other's fleas while we pretended to be something else. But the sole act of pretending made the hoax so very obvious, me, there, having the time of my life, I saw and laughed upon the fact that we were just naked apes trying too hard to wear suits and monocles. It was really rather pathetic, and amusing.

But there's really nothing, nothing we can do
Love must be forgotten, life can always start up anew.

But then I went back home, to the forest.

There I worked from early in the mourning, knocking down burned trees to leave place for new ones. Every act of creation is first an act of destruction. Then there was some new tree pruning so they would grow up right, and some soil daming to contain erosion. There was not much thinking about it, let alone complex socializing or abstraction of social structures as in the previous episode.

There, no structures were set upon, it was just us working. And I agree, trained monkeys could have been able to do it (maybe better). But there was something about knowing we didn't have to pretend, something about being at work inside nature that made sense, something about our essence that actually made me feel more human. Whatever that means.

Thoughts on trees and classification.

2011-06-03T20:58:00.002-05:00

You might remember this post: how?
It's was written last semester as I was in awe about my broken paradigms and new thought-trains.
Curiously enough, I left those thoughts resting for a while, and now they return with new teeth, to mess my head again. I don't need to tell you, my dear Penguin about all the details again, and I don't want to bore whoever is reading this with my career rants today. Perhaps next week I will. In summary you just have to add how? + Math: not for dummies . (we're always touching by underground wires, you said xD)

My point is: I have learned a lot about Systematics this year.
I encourage you to search in google images 'phylogenetic tree'. (I am not familiarized with how the order of the search results appear in google, but nevertheless...) the first result I get is this (lets call it 1), then a rather childish drawing I will decide to ignore. Then this (we'll call it 2), then 3 very similar others, and then this (3).
Sighs.
I would need some more information about how each one is constructed, but apparently, none of this is actually a phylogenetic tree. Sigh. I'm serious.
1 caught my mind today, and it's the one I do have information on, so we'll leave it to the end.
2 is (by drawing) a phenogram. (It's missing some important things but the drawing style is totally phenetic) A phenogram is built based on similarities or differences of organisms. From the phenetic school, developed in the 60's-70's mainly by Sneath and Sokal. It does not intend to reproduce evolutive history, it is an artificial criteria.
3. (same as 2, I would need more information but by drawing) it is a cladogram. From (guess..) the cladistics school, developed around the same time that phenetics, mainly by Hennig and De Rosa. It tries to be natural (although they have big internal debates on that) and it is based on homologous charaters.
1. It's a really really famous diagram proposed by Woese. He refers to it as a phylogenetic tree, but if you read Phylogenetic structure of the prokaryotic domain: The primary kingdoms. (Woese and Fox, 1977) you'll be disappointed to find as Table 1. A matrix of association coefficients, used to build... a phenogram. (which I repeat, he referred as a phylogenetic tree, and actually drew somehow as a cladogram, great.)

So, the closest thing we got to a phylogenetic tree is perhaps the childish drawing.

Phylogenetic trees are from the evolutionist school, developed in the 40's mainly by Mayr, Simpson and Huxley. They are interpreted and build in a whole different way from cladograms or phenograms. This would be more like a phylogenetic tree (though AGAIN we would have to see how was it built and all those details that go beyond the drawing)

By taking this class (Systematics I) I really expected to end up understaning how classifications are made (which I think is a complete mess), and to know the infallible method to reconstruct the evolutionary history, turns out: There isn't. Not even our beloved molecular methods (I had hopes on you molecular methods!) So we are left with evolutionism, phenetics and cladistics.

Now I'm looking forward to Biogeography, who would've thought?

Summer's bright side

2011-06-02T21:54:00.003-05:00

Today he died, the first boy that I met who could appreciate ... ow ow ow. He was more of a chemical than a physical, or so it goes. You never met him my dearest kite, but he was a good imaginary friend.

it's embarrassing to need someone the way i do you

Yesterday I went to the fabulous -Crown market- let me tell you, not filled with the kinds of queens you'd expect. There my perspective of socio-economic macro universe kept on shifting, I realized that the true face of middle class in this country is not the one the mirror shows, and it's rather ridiculous to think I'm near to understanding all its complexities. I just realize every day how much of a bullshit life is the micro cosmos in which i'm inserted. #whiteboyproblems

We're always touching by underground wires

There's this pilot:

Ever since I was six-teen, the reason I got up for school, the thing I thought about while walking home, the words I repeated to myself to go trough silly angst was this short-film contest. Since I found an old camera in the house when I was five, and I discovered I could steal the light, mess with time and make up stories that would last forever (i.e. making shitty movies) I was hooked. Then, when my dream was to be fucking Spilberg or something (yes, I knew nothing about movies), and because I had a gazillion friends entering high school, I devoted my lonely life to winning the Sunnylane High schools Initiative for Nacreous Expertises: SHINE. Because that's what you do when you're young and merry right? Focus on your passion and wait for things to be bliss.

Well, if you expect this to be the story of hard work, glory and the value of friendship better turn on the Disney Channel and leave this. This is not about your dreams coming true, or the great perhaps within the film industry, it's rather a chronicle of the fall down of naive minds into decadence, failure, and why not? selling your body in front of thousands(?) of people. But don't get me wrong... it's not like I'm not having the time of my life.

[high school story cliques killed. obviously story would need to be tropicalized]

It seems as if we weren't made for this world!

Lately I've been going back to the beginning of many things. Video games, extra-nerdy stuff, the vampire slayer, old series, old ideas, old friends. As if subconsciously I was searching a time, the matter is, I think this is not the kind of nostalgia that aches within because things happened in the past, but a nostalgia for events that never happened, and places that never existed. an people i've never met.

Meanwhile in Narnia, he found himself in an empty desert.

As time goes by.

2011-06-01T23:46:00.000-05:00

You must remember this
A kiss is just a kiss, a sigh is just a sigh.
The fundamental things apply
As time goes by.

It is funny, how about two days ago I was reasonably angry, about your cowardliness and cruelty. Today I don't care that much. Today I don't even feel used by you. I feel as if you're just a friend I can talk to, never my lover, a kiss is just a kiss, I would say. Nevertheless, I feel the urge to listen to this music, this stupid love songs. It doesn't make sense. Maybe I want to be in love again. (I say again with confidence, I know I'm not in love at the moment) but it's the same damn feeling I had about a year ago. Which I regretted about 4 months after.
It's just like that that The Cure song:

It's Monday you can fall apart
Tuesday, Wednesday break my heart
Oh, Thursday doesn't even start
It's Friday I'm in love

It's just that, this time, I don't want to be in love with you.

June:the comeback

2011-05-30T21:04:00.004-05:00

Dearest Mrs.K

I hereby propose this to you with my dearest intentions for the fields to come back from oblivion.

I know our standards of posting are rather high (compared to what we could do, no kidding) but this the most obscure blog ever, so who cares about quality? right now i want quantity.

So I propose this:

All June we most go back to posting EVERY day (in the june timeline) Even if we have no stories to share, no epiphanies, no cool sites. Just tell me about your day, what you're feeling, what's making you feel like that. Or a something funny you laughed at and it's totally out of context. Or the drawing you made in class while super bored.

I don't care.

Let's make BLOG EVERY DAY JUNE, i propose.

What do you think?

Beliefs

2011-05-24T15:56:00.000-05:00

This is some one of the most intresting music proposals I've heard in a while.
Beliefs by Urrusti

Gave up everything I had
For a dream I couldn't keep,
I've been living with a lie
So hard that tears can't cry
Like a grudge you keep inside,
Till you think that you don't care at all.

So pathetic I can't weep!
So blind and dumb to see
Today I'm broken, I'm broken, I'm broken!
Left to die on my beliefs.

70 Million

2011-05-22T00:38:00.001-05:00

70 Million by Hold Your Horses !
And it hardly looked like a novel at all, I hardly look like a hero at all.

1. La Última Cena 2. El Nacimiento de Venus 3.Lección de Anantomía del Doctor Nicolaes Tulp 4. Retrato de Enrique VIII, Rey de Inglaterra, 5. La Chica con el Pendiente de Perla 6. La Balsa de la Medusa 7. La Muerte de Marat 8. La Creación de Adán (Capilla Sixtina) 9. El Hijo del Hombre10. Composición con gran superficie de rojo, amarillo, negro, gris y azul 11. Autorretrato Frida Kahlo 12. Dora Maar Sentada 13. El Grito14. Autorretrato con Oreja Vendada 15. Marilyn Monroe 16. Gabrielle d' Estrées con una de sus hermanas 17. Maestà 18. La Decapitación de San Juan Bautista 19. Olympia 20. La Libertad Guiando al Pueblo 21. Sylvia Van Harden 22. El Beso 23. La Mariée 24. Las Meninas 25. Los Girasoles

Individuals

2011-05-08T14:20:00.001-05:00

♥

Math: not for dummies

2011-03-12T18:21:00.002-06:00

Most simpletons hate math. And it would be rather easy to say it’s because they’re stupid, and only the people who are smart can figure out where in the realm of logic is x hiding. But such a pretentious answer is not wrong based on its political correctness, but rather because of the complexity of math, society and education.

The way I think it works is this: there are some problems in our daily lives, that for practical purposes, we’ve developed a universal system of logic to crack and systematize them. That’s math, a way to use universal algorithms to solve problems that happen in reality. This last part might be the source of many of the problems we have with math in education.

Lately I’ve been following the critical views upon the present education systems, which are mostly post-industrial time instructions on how to become a reservoir of information and systematized techniques to deal with professional problems. While this is alright for an only-industrialized society, we need to leave limitless production aside and think again about innovation. We need to stop making out of education a process of information transference, and figure out how to make this information into knowledge and creativity.

What does any of this has to do with people being bad at math? Well, the way I see things, most people who hate math and see it as a complicated set of abstract complications, do so because they forget that like other sciences, math is just a way in which we describe the universe. And this disarticulation of subject-science-reality is the source of many of the educational troubles with math and science in general: kids don’t see how reality really relates with knowledge.

Now, I’m not saying simpletons are the only ones unaware of this, many other nerds just love the abstractions without realizing this either. Like everything human made, math is an intersubjective construction made by people, who learn from people and ultimately produce for people. It’s not like math came from a magic meteor who gave some people the ability to add and count. Science is made by us to describe the exterior, and as it is made by subjects it is easily flawed and biased, but our most accurately way to describe the world.

What I think education should be doing is not making kids memorize the multiples of the digits, but rather helping them realize that math is a tool we use to solve every day problems which will come up one way or the other. Not just make students repeat hundreds of multiplications, but encourage them to design logical systems that can make life easier. Techniques are important, I’m not saying they aren’t, but we should rather focus more on the concept abstraction.

By this point, a part of you must be saying: this is engineering bullshit that’s just worried about the purpose of things and how to apply them into a practical and real use. And sure, apparently under these arguments, there would be no reason for Amy, a future psychology major to learn trigonometry and function series. But my point is not really to solve the when-will-I-ever-use-this thing, rather to remind people about the science-reality relation.

So Amy is not likely to use trigonometry (unless doing vectorial personality analysis), but science is about describing the world, and if in doing so we find practical uses, great! But the main purpose is more for leisure than practical use. Science is about the beauty of being able to describe the complexities of the universe, the uncertain forces involved in holding together a quark and making us able to perceive colors. It is the excitement of knowing we possess tools to communicate with the universe, however noisy the transmissions are.

Math is not a compendium of computerized process we insert in education in order to prepare proficient workers. It is a human construction of logic algorithms which describes reality in a very organized manner, and we need it for everyday tasks, but it is also another field to develop curiosity and encourage creativity. And formal education should make this distinction so everyone is aware that missing out on mathematics is not just failing a course, it is failing to perceive the beauty of the universe.

The new tyrants

2011-03-10T14:11:00.000-06:00

I've been searching for this quote some time

This is precisely what I've been meaning to say all along. Adults, shut the fuck up.

You keep complaining about the new generations, but please, please notice youth will always pose a thread or trouble or criticism to the existing systems. They will always be seen as ungreatful bitches, because that's what we all are. Unless there's a strong, violent authority the youth will always be fucked up, crazed with decadence and vaine.

But please don't think I'm siding with the view that being young and beautiful is an overrated idol. It is the fucking greatest thing to be. What I mean is this:

Yes, it's fucked up. Yes, it's not very promising. But think for a second, who the hell raised this new generation. Aham. Stop bitching.

within me

2011-03-08T13:56:00.000-06:00

Cuando y sin

2011-03-06T13:03:00.001-06:00

Cuando la luz es de neon

y tus ojos se enervan;

haces arte por rutina

y piensas en palabras

en vez de sentires.

Cuando besas por besar

sin una caldera en el vientre

ni sueño cursi en el dorso.

Gimes sin cesar

cual murmullo de una puta triste.

Cuando tus ecos son roncos

planos y sin respuesta,

te prestas y encuentras

cual sauce sin raíces.

Sales de aquello, te alejas de esto

notas vacías.

Cuando me miras sin verme

y me necesitas, me alejas

, no te acuerdas de la ultima

y dejaste de soñar con la primera.

¿Que no nos gustaba hasta que doliera?

Miguel y cursilerias

2011-03-04T17:26:00.001-06:00

Apreciadísima Doña Papalote, ongelded y otros lectores, no sabría bien como explicar esto, pero esta canción no deja mi mente.

Tralalalalalala

Hay corazones que intentan poesía,

el mio ni harto de amor te diría,

que no concibe belleza de Luna sin ti

Forgive them sister, they don't know what they were doing, using papyrus

Of masks and people, again

2011-03-02T18:07:00.004-06:00

Dearest Mrs. K.

For some time now I had been thinking about it. You just put concrete words to it, and for that, I think it is true that we will be together for centuries to come.

Life's a little too complex to play just one role, and very ridiculous to pretend we're not on a stage. What greater joy is there than to play characters you like in a premade stage where your own script goes on?

Isn't the great perhaps the adaptation of old characters to a completely new scene?

Aren't the greatest revelations when you inadvertedly start mixing characters and you begin to see the strings that hold them all together?

For all I care right now, true friendship, true love, and true anything is when you get to realize, along with another performer, how ridiculous it all is. When you get to show each other's masks and play with them in the moonlight.

Educated

2011-03-01T11:41:00.002-06:00

Though my basic education was (i believe) very good, and I don't feel like a particular ignorant person (in the traditional sense the word ignorant is used). Nevertheless, there are tons of gaps, specially in humanities, which I would very much like to fill. I've never dedicated enough time to it, and although I would like someday to take classes on art history, music history, politics, etc. The real thing is that I'm in a Science school, and it's not as if these classes are available in classroom next door. So, without abandoning that ambition, I might well start with my beloved Internet.
I'll start by doing a series of posts about Music History, and we'll see how it goes. Perhaps afterwards I'll do one about Art.
So, yes... this is somehow the intro to the series. And with any good intro, comes a good disclaimer:

Disclaimer:
-I am not an expert on any subject.
-I am not a reliable source.
-The sources I use might or not be reliable, I'll try to use reliable sources, but you better check them yourself. At the moment I don't have any great book on the subject, (I might go to my beloved Central Library for one someday) so, basically, check my sources. DEAR INTERNET PEOPLE, AS MUCH AS I LOVE THE INTERNET, PLEASE, PLEASE, BE AWARE OF THIS ALWAYS.
-Please let me know if you don't agree with something, I'm just learning about the subject.

Cheers!

Him

2011-02-28T21:16:00.001-06:00

Táctica y estrategia

2011-02-26T22:51:00.001-06:00

Táctica y estrategia

Por Mario Benedetti

Mi táctica es
mirarte
aprender como sos
quererte como sos

mi táctica es
hablarte
y escucharte
construir con palabras
un puente indestructible

mi táctica es
quedarme en tu recuerdo
no sé cómo ni sé
con qué pretexto
pero quedarme en vos

mi táctica es
ser franco
y saber que sos franca
y que no nos vendamos
simulacros
para que entre los dos

no haya telón
ni abismos

mi estrategia es
en cambio
más profunda y más
simple
mi estrategia es
que un día cualquiera
no sé cómo ni sé
con qué pretexto
por fin me necesites

[lectura decente, pa' variar]

I'M THE PENGUIN

2011-02-24T18:49:00.000-06:00

I'M THE PENGUIN is a ficticious author and character inside the Black Bird Fields Universe. The main content of the blog cover his dellusional opinions, his inadequately written fiction, and pathetic non-fiction, along with some of the pieces he claims to be art. He's featured as being co-author along with Mrs. Kite and Sgt.Pepper, althought no tangible link has ever made between the three characters, theories [1] indicate that they might be the same author going by different names.

Because there times when you just need someone to remind you who the hell are you.
In some of his work I'M THE PENGUIN has reffered himself as a teacher, but given his poor writting it is a well known fact that he's a public worker. Among his not so numerous blogs some specialists [2] have been able to deduce he suffers from several personality disorders, just to name a few: borderline, schizoid, paranoid, histrionic, asocial.

letter to the penguin

2011-02-22T19:02:00.002-06:00

Dear I'm the penguin:

As you may be aware, when you read this in the future, you've been dedicating yourself to collect parts of the present so you suffer from a terrible nostalgia in the near future. That and you're loosing touch with reality.

Given the secretive intentions behind this post we shall speak of laws and hopes. And we will just hope you understand this by the time you're 20.

Laws have brought you hope, but that is still pathetic, because you're assuming they will be excecuted, you have this idea in the bottom of your head that they will make your world new, different and exciting. Most likely, as with all the laws in your country, they'll just vanish with time and you'll just remember they once existed. But well, at least they've got you in a good mood right?

Lieaving the bitching for your character in the real world... I'll now speak to you as the real I'm the penguin.

Everything's stupid and ridiculous.

Laws

You

Hopes.

Yet it is really exciting to see you giggle and fantazise about the future. That's what you're supposed to be doing (since that's what you care most about, what you are supposed to be doing). You know I still think it's all stupid and ridiculous. But it might as well be stupid, ridiculous and oh so very lovely. It doesn't matter if these fucking laws don't pass, it doesn't matter if they are what finally changes this country and majestically brings everyone to a new world order. Hell, I don't even care if these laws are just rumors.

Enjoy the second. I am. Because everything is just so fucking ridiculous. and i love it.

Algae

2011-02-21T01:00:00.000-06:00

This is what I've been up to:

This I believe, is Chlorophyta, Caulerpa sp.
I like to call it 'the dragon' but it is a Phaeophyta, Sargassum sp.
This my friends, is an organism with a helicoidal-like chloroplast :O oh my oh my

A great list

2011-02-20T23:44:00.000-06:00

Lately people catch me laughing to myself in the corridors, many think it's really weird. Fuck'em, there's no one as funny as my own mind. There's a list of things that I keep remembering at all times and it gets me in a very good mood. Why bother with regrets when you can just save that which is food for the soul?

*Being brave enough to approach ____

*Picturing myself dancing in the middle of class, starting a coreographed musical

*Dancing in real life to the S.Gs

*How dorky I am sometimes

*Being proposed to work as a (PG 13 CENSORSHIP)

*My uncomfortable sielnces

*The ridiculous amounts of extras you half-encounter each day

And so on. Do yours, it makes life more liveable x)

The proud penguin

2011-02-18T19:55:00.000-06:00

Dearest R.

I always knew you had it in you, but let me tell you, I'm very proud of you.

See how listening to me makes it all better?

These kids and their dramatic wannabe lives.

Just (kind of) kidding.

Sincerely, I'm the penguin

Santiago

2011-02-16T00:39:00.002-06:00

Setting: I went back to the place where it all started getting real. Where I got to see how things really are, what an improvement we're really doing.

Better conditions for transport alternatives. We're totally helping the little guy.

They even have public pools

And well, as you may see, technology is really reaching everywhere

This sort of makes me an environmental blogger, sure the pictures are the best you've ever seen, but it's still just for the propaganda. I'm aware that in the internet context this may seem irrelevant, but it's not, everywhere, human rights are being violated, this pictures you see aren't just some photo opportunities, they are REALITIES. And it's your choice if you now want to be intentionally ignorant and look away, or actually do something about it.

Looking eye

2011-02-14T22:08:00.000-06:00

again, had some pho(toshop)n

Science and love

2011-02-13T00:35:00.002-06:00

For those of you out there, some sciencey valentine,

[Stephanie Burrows Fox, via: erm, the penguin, :O ]

And finally, also for those Belle and Sebastian fans out there, more Dopamine in the "Gents Green 'Chemistry' t-shirt"

Why do we believe in electrons, but not in fairies?

2011-02-10T18:47:00.000-06:00

Article here

Why do we believe in electrons, but not in fairies?

by Benjamin Kuipers

No one has directly observed either electrons or fairies. Both of them are theoretical constructs, useful to explain observations that might be difficult to explain otherwise. The "theory of fairies" can actually explain more things than the "theory of electrons". So why do we believe in electrons, but not in fairies?

Is the issue a political one, where the "electron" fans got the upper hand in the nineteenth century, so by the twentieth century the "fairy" fans were a scorned and persecuted minority? Or, have we proved for sure that fairies don't exist?

No, to both. The real difference is that for electrons, we have accumulated a set of quite narrow and specific rules about how electrons will behave under various circumstances. Those rules let us make very specific predictions about electron behavior, and about the observations that will result. If those predictions don't come true, we know that either we didn't set up the circumstances correctly, or there is something wrong with the rules. But over many decades, we have repeatedly fixed problems with the rules, so we can now make really good predictions about electrons, especially in certain highly contrived circumstances (i.e., circuits).

Fairies are much more free. A fairy does what it decides to do. We haven't been able to find any useful rules for predicting how a fairy will behave under particular circumstances, or even for telling when a fairy has been involved in a particular observation. (At least I don't know of any such rules. I stand ready for correction on this.) Over many, many decades, it has not been possible for people to try out pretty-good sets of fairy-prediction rules, find out where they make mistakes, and replace them with better sets of rules.

It's always possible that there really are fairies. But the theory of electrons has been far more successful because it makes testable predictions. Because it doesn't make testable predictions, the theory of fairies hasn't enjoyed the same process of incremental improvement. So we have lightbulbs and microprocessors and the Internet, all based on electrons, and no fairy processors.

The scientific method is an amazing procedure for incrementally improving certain kinds of theories: those that make testable predictions. A theory that doesn't make testable predictions could still be true, but it doesn't participate in the scientific method. (There are people who believe that the only truths are scientific truths, but this is essentially a religious faith on their part.)

The theory of evolution is a scientific theory, because it implies a large number of specific testable claims. The specific rules leading to testable predictions have been tested, modified, and refined over many decades (roughly as many as the theory of electrons). Simple versions of the rules for evolution have been tested and refuted long ago, and replaced by better, more specific ones, just as they have for electrons. We are about as confident in the theory of evolution as we are in the theory of electrons.

The theory of intelligent design could be true. The biological world is a marvelous place, with truly amazing complexity. The theory of evolution assumes certain random processes for generating mutations. If an Intelligent Designer could influence those random processes, then perhaps both theories could be true simultaneously. But the theory of intelligent design does not make testable predictions, just like the theory of fairies. The Designer does what He does because He decides to, not because He is governed by rules. (See Matthew 4:5-7.)

The scientific method is an enormous intellectual asset to the human race. All citizens should understand what it can and cannot do, and all children should be taught to appreciate and apply it. It is important for them to understand why the theory of electrons is a scientific theory, while the theory of fairies is not. Likewise, of course, for evolution and intelligent design.

In the debate between evolution and intelligent design, I believe that we scientists are missing an important opportunity to educate people about the difference between "truth" and "scientific truth". There is a perfectly reasonable role in society for faith in truths that are not scientifically testable. But we and our children need to understand and respect the difference.

Atheism is a religion, too!

While one driver in this controversy comes from people with a fundamentalist religious agenda, there are scientists on the other side who pursue an essentially religious belief that "There is no Designer." Occam's Razor is a useful piece of practical advice about preferring simpler theories, but it has no more empirical content than the Apostle's Creed.

An advocate for Intelligent Design provided the following quotes from leading evolutionary biologists:

"Man is the result of a purposeless and natural process that did not have him in mind" (George Gaylord Simpson, The Meaning of Evolution);
"If humankind evolved by Darwinian natural selection, genetic chance and environmental necessity, not God, made the species" (Edward O. Wilson, On Human Nature);
"By coupling undirected, purposeless variation to the blind, uncaring process of natural selection, Darwin made theological or spiritual explanations of life processes superfluous" (Douglas Futuyma, Evolutionary Biology).
These are not scientific conclusions. These are statements of sincere personal belief by these authors, who doubtless feel strongly that their beliefs are consistent with their experiences as scientists. But they are essentially statements of faith, and they are out of place in a textbook. (An interesting essay by Michael Ruse, Is evolution a secular religion?, sheds historical light on evolution and this kind of "religious atheism".)

On the other hand, scientists in general are very careful to avoid making religious (including atheist) statements in a scientific context. Simpson's and Wilson's books are opinion pieces, not textbooks, so expressions of personal faith are appropriate. Futuyma's book is a leading textbook, but the above quote seems not to appear in the current (third) edition.

There is a widespread claim that evolutionary biology textbooks argue against Christianity, or against religion in general. You can read (here) a careful examination of a number of accused textbooks, refuting that claim.

Teaching better science

In our pluralistic society, some people believe in God or in the absence of any God (both faith-based positions), while some people don't know and some don't care. In our pluralistic society, it is important to teach science without imposing on others one's own religious beliefs, including the belief in the absence of God.

Science education is about teaching the scientific method, and about teaching some of the knowledge that the human race has acquired by applying the scientific method. It would be a useful part of a science class to teach the distinction between theories that are scientific because they make testable predictions, and other theories that could be true, but are not scientific because they don't. Comparing fairies with electrons, or comparing evolution with intelligent design, should be an opportunity to teach better science.

Written 15 February 2005. Updated 30 June 2005 and 11 September 2005.

kid genius- interesting >.>

2011-02-08T18:40:00.000-06:00

Just when I was coming to terms about being in the edge of young youth comes this, a kid genius aged 12 who's discovering the mysteries of the universe, while I write a filler post on a half-forgotten blog.

/bitching

Just read it, i tried to make several comments but none seemed to have any content whatsoever.

Brontosaurus

2011-02-07T23:56:00.000-06:00

actually Apatosaurus...
According to my Dinosaur Larousse by Dr. Michael Benton, 1988
(bought in 'Gigante' [a store that no longer exists] for $19.90 [mxn pesos] )

Apatosaurus means deceptive reptile, it was described in 1877 by Dr. Marsh in North America.
It belonged to the Jurassic period.
I'd rather call it Brontosaurus, it means thunder reptile which is awesome!

[Kids Dig Dinos]

beauty and perception

2011-02-06T18:35:00.000-06:00

must watch video.

got me thinking about math, philosophy and the construction of reality

with this video some could think about how wonderful nature is, for having such a perfect system, just like math. bullshit I say. Nature is not great for having a system like math, we've been fortunate enough to find within our brains a logical system that can for some reason describe the phenomena we percive. And I think beauty really lies there, not in how beautiful can our abstractions of the world be, but in how amazing it is that despite our abstractions we can percive the world and its entropic wonders.

After we existed

2011-02-04T19:52:00.004-06:00

Your birds fly away without looking back, wondering about the taste of wind and the colors of the air. Loosing touch with earth, and remembering the ocean you decide to make a pact with the spirits of art and silence, concealing yourself into a mirror of dawn light and redemption. This makes me just another dead weight you have to free yourself from, in your way to illumination.

You look at me and think of him instead and you whisper her name in a dream where I can't reach whatever we've become. When you crack the brach that held the forest lamp, I can just go back to the time when our sights met and everything finally meant something. The first moment we ever had, the universe woke up from a lethargic dream, and everything has been decaying ever since.

As a child, you once told me you were looking for magic, talking trees and jumping seas, a world where a wish would become a boat and a simple sigh would be enough. You also said that once your legs were long and your face weilded fur, you'd meet me and together we'd build it. The spell you casted upon us both broke my fears in two and filled me with an everlasting nostalgia for the future.

Now that world is broken. Wishes became lost ships, sighs became pernicious reproaches and unmet expectations. It is as if finding this treasure island, a precious universe that we built, became a sort of Midas curse, only there are no golden souls in this story, just caothic impulses of worn out desires. What a world is this, to have finally discovered your scars, lips and obscurities; just so everything could go back to meaning nothing.

Pereza(?)

2011-02-02T21:38:00.003-06:00

Principio universal de la Pereza de la Materia: entre hacer y no hacer, mejor no hacer- Toda gran función necesita un gran estímulo

¿Gastar energía y arriesgarme a la incertidumbre sólo para buscar comida?¿Ahora, justamente ahora?

¿Gastar energía y arriesgarme a la incertidumbre sólo para buscar cónyugue?¿Ahora, justamente ahora?

...toda gran función necesita un gran estímulo (pero cual?)

(estímulo- concepto favorecid por al selección natural por conseguir que hacer sea más probable que dejar de hacer)

...

SI LA NATURALEZA ES LA RESPUESTA ¿CUÁL ERA LA PREGUNTA?- Jorge Wagensberg

Made of

2011-01-31T11:24:00.003-06:00

Made of constructions? thoughts? perceptions?

If dissected, what would come out of our minds?

Warning from the future.

2011-01-30T00:02:00.000-06:00

This is a warning from the future:
I spent all this month in my native city: me dejé reposar al sereno, a ver si me arreglaba. I didn't.
Turns out, I warn you, more things are about to begin, and to get worse. I do mean it.
You'll hit rock bottom one day in crying in your room. By the time you write this paragraph, you'll still be angry about something you realized a day ago. Sigh.

bellas vanalidades

2011-01-29T20:25:00.002-06:00

Algo de contexto:

Esto es un edificio abandonado junto a la casacada de El Salto, antiguamente conocida como el Niagara Mexicano. La situación ambiental es atroz, no hay respuesta de las autoridades, y en general se violan diariamente las garantías individuales y derechos humanos de los habitantes.

Este universo, lo que yo veo es esto: una declaración de amor cholo style. Y qué? te preguntas.

Es la más sublime de las bellezas, encontrar la vanalidad y dejos de esperanza en una presentación poco esperada, poco notada y casí confundida con el entorno en su mimetizmo a lo caótico, chingado.

Es ver como surge una flor torcida y efímera en una tormenta de mierda. (Y esto es casi literal)

Broken rant.

2011-01-28T23:58:00.000-06:00

This is a rant a posteriori, lol
Stop kidding yourself with stories in you head about how things could've or should've been.
I think you think it's complicated. I think you think you love me. Just stop, it's all clouds in the sky.
Things should be different but they're not. :/
As simple as that.

Frenzy dance

2011-01-27T12:07:00.001-06:00

People like it when I play this role, the awkward kid in oberols and rim glasses fixed with tape. It's not that the character is a lovable wanker, but even if not admittedly, they all just love having me play the role to complete their plethora of bi-dimensional characters with few back story. In other words, it's nice to have diverse extras. So I keep playing it, line by line.

All characters enter the stage, get in position; and in the dark they whisper their own monologues, creeping and crawling in the self-imposed sea of loneliness . The darkness doesn't blind them, yet they refuse to see, while in the light they dance to a backwards Tschaikovsky. It's a frenzy ritual dance of memorized steps and ventricular synchronization, they are not sure of what comes next, so they stomp and twist. All while wearing their well rehearsed masks.

I get tired. I'm not just this character, I'm not limited to this script or the wrinkles in this mask. But the frenetic dance won't stop, they keep stroking and quibbling. It never stops. They dance through rain and shadows, even in repression. I fear the future, for I know that unless I ruin the entire play for everyone, we'll all dance to our deaths.

Anyway, the show must go on.

If I fell

2011-01-26T00:46:00.000-06:00

This is one of the best things that have ever happened to me...
I was there! :D
Belle and Sebastian-If I Fell