viernes, marzo 18, 2005
SHAME
I told what I thought was a "little white lie", and it has exploded in my face. (They tend to do that, apparently.) This ought to teach me. It is a definite mistake to try to please all of the people all of the time. One ends up completely alone and with no respect, Man. Damn. I am SO in the wrong, and DEEPLY, DEEPLY embarassed.
On a different note, here is little something just for your enjoyment:
Portrait of a Lady
Your thighs are appletrees
whose blossoms touch the sky.
Which sky? The sky
where Watteau hung a lady's
slipper. Your knees are a southern breeze -- or
a gust of snow. Agh! what
sort of man was Fragonard?
-- As if that answered
anything. -- Ah, yes. Below
the knees, since the tune
drops that way, it is
one of those white summer days,
the tall grass of your ankles
flickers upon the shore --
Which shore? --
the sand clings to my lips --
Which shore?
Agh, petals maybe. How
should I know?
Which shore? Which shore?
-- the petals from some hidden
appletree -- Which shore?
I said petals from an appletree.
I told what I thought was a "little white lie", and it has exploded in my face. (They tend to do that, apparently.) This ought to teach me. It is a definite mistake to try to please all of the people all of the time. One ends up completely alone and with no respect, Man. Damn. I am SO in the wrong, and DEEPLY, DEEPLY embarassed.
On a different note, here is little something just for your enjoyment:
Portrait of a Lady
Your thighs are appletrees
whose blossoms touch the sky.
Which sky? The sky
where Watteau hung a lady's
slipper. Your knees are a southern breeze -- or
a gust of snow. Agh! what
sort of man was Fragonard?
-- As if that answered
anything. -- Ah, yes. Below
the knees, since the tune
drops that way, it is
one of those white summer days,
the tall grass of your ankles
flickers upon the shore --
Which shore? --
the sand clings to my lips --
Which shore?
Agh, petals maybe. How
should I know?
Which shore? Which shore?
-- the petals from some hidden
appletree -- Which shore?
I said petals from an appletree.
miércoles, marzo 16, 2005
Island Baby...
Dos veces en tan poco tiempo? No es probable. Ya veremos.
(Las jacarandas están en flor y el aire es transparente!!)
Y bueno, por otro lado, acabo de adoptar un murcielaguito, a sugerencia de Pollo. Como si pasara tiempo en la computadora... y eso que nunca tuve un tamagochi.
Dos veces en tan poco tiempo? No es probable. Ya veremos.
(Las jacarandas están en flor y el aire es transparente!!)
Y bueno, por otro lado, acabo de adoptar un murcielaguito, a sugerencia de Pollo. Como si pasara tiempo en la computadora... y eso que nunca tuve un tamagochi.
lunes, marzo 07, 2005
PD: Muchos saludos y un gran abrazo a nuestro nuevo lector en Pueblo Quieto, Texas.
Después de tanto tiempo...
Extrañamos el Caribe!! Aunque no estamos seguros si deberíamos haber ido.
Pretextos, pretextos. Sí he estado ocupada pero tampoco exageremos. Hace mucho que tengo abandonado este espacio. Así que empezaré a compartir a ver si se reparan los estragos del tiempo.
Anoche, leyendo una novela candidata para mi tesis de maestría, me encontré con la siguiente cita que describe lo que a veces siento viviendo en una ciudad como esta:
"A city that... had brought to perfection the art of killing the soul. If you had a living soul..., it could die here in a thousand different ways at any hour of the day or night. And that was not to speak of unmetaphorical death, of citizens as prey, of everyone from the helpless elderly to the littlest of schoolchildren infected with fear.... A city where the few who bothered to consider life seriously knew themselves to be surviving in the teeth of everything inhuman--or all too human: one shuddered to think that all that was abhorrent in the city disclosed the lineaments of mass mankind as it truly longed to be." (P.Roth)
Claro, todo esto en vista de lo que vivimos diariamente, que todos conocemos y que sobra mencionar. Home sweet home.
Y para acabarla de amolar, estoy haciendo cuentas. Ya se imaginan.
Extrañamos el Caribe!! Aunque no estamos seguros si deberíamos haber ido.
Pretextos, pretextos. Sí he estado ocupada pero tampoco exageremos. Hace mucho que tengo abandonado este espacio. Así que empezaré a compartir a ver si se reparan los estragos del tiempo.
Anoche, leyendo una novela candidata para mi tesis de maestría, me encontré con la siguiente cita que describe lo que a veces siento viviendo en una ciudad como esta:
"A city that... had brought to perfection the art of killing the soul. If you had a living soul..., it could die here in a thousand different ways at any hour of the day or night. And that was not to speak of unmetaphorical death, of citizens as prey, of everyone from the helpless elderly to the littlest of schoolchildren infected with fear.... A city where the few who bothered to consider life seriously knew themselves to be surviving in the teeth of everything inhuman--or all too human: one shuddered to think that all that was abhorrent in the city disclosed the lineaments of mass mankind as it truly longed to be." (P.Roth)
Claro, todo esto en vista de lo que vivimos diariamente, que todos conocemos y que sobra mencionar. Home sweet home.
Y para acabarla de amolar, estoy haciendo cuentas. Ya se imaginan.
