The art of asking

Asking is, in itself, the fundamental building block of any relationship. Constantly and usually indirectly, often wordlessly, we ask each other- our bosses, our spouses, our friends, our employees- in order to build and mantain our relationships with one another.
Will you help me?
Can I trust you?
Are you going to screw me over?
Are you suuuure I can trust you?
And so often, underneath it all, these questions originate in our basic, human longing to know:
Do you love me?

A.F.P.

momentos en los que sé qué odio más, si a la Navidad o a mi misma.

lareconchadelalora.

you're no good you're no good you're no good, can't you tell that it's well understood?

todo esto no alcanza.
no te das cuenta,
pero no alcanza.
no estoy acá.
no estoy acá.
nunca estuve acá.
estoy lejos
vengo arrastrándome
tirando de todo esto que no puedo soltar,
todo esto que debería irse aflojando,
pero que de alguna forma pesa cada vez más.
y voy cada vez más lento
y no alcanza.
no lo ves,
pero no alcanza.
y las ganas de dejar de ahogarse
dejar de hundirse
que todos estos no dejen de ser pesas.
cortar la cuerda.
pero no alcanza.
no lo entendés,
pero no alcanza.
porque ya es tarde
ya no puedo inventarme de otra forma
sacarme de encima todo esto que no sirve
no me sirve
no te sirve.
ya es tarde.
y lo que hay no alcanza.
no lo querés ver,
pero no alcanza.

algo pasa en Texas

(An old postcard you sent to help close up wounds that I love to reopen)

Blue! Blue! Blue!

"'Words are pale shadows of forgotten names. As names have power, words have power. Words can light fires in the minds of men. Words can wring tears from the hardest hearts. There are seven words that will make a person love you. There are ten words that will break a strong man's will. But a word is nothing but a painting of a fire. A name is the fire itself.'
'Using words to talk of words is like using a pencil to draw a picture of itself, on itself. Impossible. Confusing. Frustrating.' He lifted his hands high above his head as if stretching for the sky. 'But there are other ways to understanding!' he shouted, laughing like a child. He threw both arms to the cloudless arch of sky above us, still laughing. 'Look!' he shouted tilting his head back. 'Blue! Blue! Blue!'".
P.R.

killing time won't stop this crying.

Eso.

eso de no saber
o saber pero no entender
y no preguntar
quizás por miedo a saber-
quizás por costumbre.

eso de ir siempre mirando para atrás
y en el descuido pasarse de largo.
ya no puedo volver.

eso de reabrir heridas constantemente.

eso de no dejarse descansar.

Cause if it isn't making dollars 

Then it isn't making sense 

If you aren't moving units 

Then you're not worth the expense 

If you really want to make it 

You had best remember this 

If it isn't penetration 

Then it isn't worth a kiss 

Because I've got a headache 
And I'm already full of useless stories

los octubres siguen siendo una mierda.

Love is watching someone die.

Ich habe daran gedacht, dass ich diese Hand, die ich jetzt halte, auch bis zuletzt halten werde, vielleicht in einem Krankenhausbett, vielleicht viele Stunden am Stück, bis ich am Ende aufgeben und alles loslassen muss. Wir haben beschlossen, dass es so pasieren soll, sie hat es mir schon versprochen. Es tut gut, daran zu denken. Wenn ich dieses Universum loslasse, dann lasse ich eine warme, lebendige Hand los, die des Orangenmädchens.

-J.G.

I could never be the puzzle pieces

Clichés y post-punk.

Ese revivir diario
de manos que tiemblan sobre las piernas tiesas
cansadas de buscar
de querer ahogar al ego
enterrar el frío
lejos
acá.

Ese resucitar diario
de hundirse en lo inalcanzable
de lluvia que no corre
no lava
no se lleva nada de esta inhumanidad
humanidad
mierda
en dónde está el límite?

Ese resurgir diario
del miedo
del miedo al miedo
y la boca que grita desconforme
pero la voz ya no sirve
ya no alcanza
nadie escucha.

Ese reconciliar diario
de los ojos y las nubes
los pies y los árboles
las manos y la tierra
la mente y la nada.

capítulo 3 - temporada 1 - Black Mirror.
over and over again.

En ese momento de una felicidad como de oleaje boca arriba de abandono a un deslizarse lleno de álamos, no podía decirle lo que ella hubiera entendido como locura o manía y que lo era pero de otro modo, desde otras orillas de la vida; le hablé de su mechón de pelo, de su bolso rojo, de su manera de mirar el anuncio de las termas, de que no le había sonreído por donjuanismo ni aburrimiento sino para darle una flor que no tenía, el signo de que me gustaba, de que me hacía bien, de que viajar frente a ella, de que otro cigarrillo y otro cinzano. 

Manuscrito hallado en un bolsillo - J.C.

“Why are you breaking down, incidentally? I mean if you’re able to go into a collapse with all your might, why can’t you use the same energy to stay well and busy?”

qué sé yo.

Hay ríos metafísicos, ella los nada como esa golondrina está nadando en el aire, girando alucinada en torno al campanario, dejándose caer para levantarse mejor con el impuso. Yo describo y defino y deseo esos ríos, ella los nada. Yo los busco, los encuentro, los miro desde el puente, ella los nada. Y no lo sabe, igualita a la golondrina. No necesita saber como yo, puede vivir en el desorden sin que ninguna conciencia de orden la retenga. Ese desorden que es un orden misterioso, esa bohemia del cuerpo y el alma que le abre de par en par las verdaderas puertas. Su vida no es desorden más que para mí, enterrado en perjuicios que desprecio y respeto al mismo tiempo. Yo, condenado a ser absuelto irremediablemente por la Maga que me juzga sin saberlo. Ah, dejame entrar, dejame ver algún día como ven tus ojos.

-21

The main thing is not to hurry. Nothing good gets away.

Dear Thom:

We had your letter this morning. I will answer it from my point of view and of course Elaine will from hers.

First — if you are in love — that’s a good thing — that’s about the best thing that can happen to anyone. Don’t let anyone make it small or light to you.

Second — There are several kinds of love. One is a selfish, mean, grasping, egotistical thing which uses love for self-importance. This is the ugly and crippling kind. The other is an outpouring of everything good in you — of kindness and consideration and respect — not only the social respect of manners but the greater respect which is recognition of another person as unique and valuable. The first kind can make you sick and small and weak but the second can release in you strength, and courage and goodness and even wisdom you didn’t know you had.

You say this is not puppy love. If you feel so deeply — of course it isn’t puppy love.

But I don’t think you were asking me what you feel. You know better than anyone. What you wanted me to help you with is what to do about it — and that I can tell you.

Glory in it for one thing and be very glad and grateful for it.

The object of love is the best and most beautiful. Try to live up to it.

If you love someone — there is no possible harm in saying so — only you must remember that some people are very shy and sometimes the saying must take that shyness into consideration.

Girls have a way of knowing or feeling what you feel, but they usually like to hear it also.

It sometimes happens that what you feel is not returned for one reason or another — but that does not make your feeling less valuable and good.

Lastly, I know your feeling because I have it and I’m glad you have it.

We will be glad to meet Susan. She will be very welcome. But Elaine will make all such arrangements because that is her province and she will be very glad to. She knows about love too and maybe she can give you more help than I can.

And don’t worry about losing. If it is right, it happens — The main thing is not to hurry. Nothing good gets away.

Love,

Fa

(John Steinbeck - 1958)

hay que dejar de querer ser lo que no se es.

And I can't be running back and fourth forever between grief and high delight.

vos con tus ganas de salvar el mundo

y yo todavía intentando entenderme. 

Hoy estoy (casi) segura de que no hay nada más difícil en la vida que renunciar a la comodidad de la costumbre.

So it goes.

November 5, 2006

Dear Xavier High School, and Ms. Lockwood, and Messrs Perin, McFeely, Batten, Maurer and Congiusta:

I thank you for your friendly letters. You sure know how to cheer up a really old geezer (84) in his sunset years. I don't make public appearances any more because I now resemble nothing so much as an iguana. 

What I had to say to you, moreover, would not take long, to wit: Practice any art, music, singing, dancing, acting, drawing, painting, sculpting, poetry, fiction, essays, reportage, no matter how well or badly, not to get money and fame, but to experience becoming, to find out what's inside you, to make your soul grow.

Seriously! I mean starting right now, do art and do it for the rest of your lives. Draw a funny or nice picture of Ms. Lockwood, and give it to her. Dance home after school, and sing in the shower and on and on. Make a face in your mashed potatoes. Pretend you're Count Dracula.

Here's an assignment for tonight, and I hope Ms. Lockwood will flunk you if you don't do it: Write a six line poem, about anything, butrhymed. No fair tennis without a net. Make it as good as you possibly can. But don't tell anybody what you're doing. Don't show it or recite it to anybody, not even your girlfriend or parents or whatever, or Ms. Lockwood. OK?

Tear it up into teeny-weeny pieces, and discard them into widely separated trash recepticals. You will find that you have already been gloriously rewarded for your poem. You have experienced becoming, learned a lot more about what's inside you, and you have made your soul grow.

God bless you all!

Kurt Vonnegut