Sunday, 30 November 2008
Graffiti
Imagen ganadora de esta semana de la sección IN PICTURES de November 29 2008 / The Guardian Weekend.
Winner Paul Green: 'My photo is called Pride And Glory - it was taken in Bristol in October and the stencil is by Ikkeno and is called Cops And Robbers.'
Thursday, 27 November 2008
The king of Manchester
Ricky Hatton después de 46 peleas y treinta años ha decidido largarse a México por cuatro dias con sus cuates Liam y Noel Gallagher para relajarse y más tarde; tal vez concluir su carrera pugilística contra Oscar De La Hoya o Manny Pacquiao en Wembley o Manchester.
John Gichigi/Getty images
Información: Nota de Kevin Mitchell en Las Vegas, The Guardian 24.11.08.
John Gichigi/Getty images
Información: Nota de Kevin Mitchell en Las Vegas, The Guardian 24.11.08.
Monday, 24 November 2008
Post-it
Ya se acerca el fin de año. Ya rodolfo el reno asoma su nariz colorada y santa piensa como le hará para hacer tantos juguetes con la recesión rampante y el corte de personal de duendes que tuvo que hacer. Como en muchas compañías, bancos, tienditas y establecimientos varios este blog se mantendrá en standby durante esta temporada para hacer inventario. De paso una reingeniería también.
Claro, habrá el breve comentario ocasional del disco o de la película, tal vez una lista ¿porqué no?
Este blog chamagoso se renueva.
Claro, habrá el breve comentario ocasional del disco o de la película, tal vez una lista ¿porqué no?
Este blog chamagoso se renueva.
Thursday, 20 November 2008
Neófito
El joven aprendiz de pintor que ayer mismo
Juraba que mis cuadros eran su catecismo
Hoy, como ve que el público empieza a hacerme caso,
Ya no dice que pinto tan bien como Picaso.
En cambio la vecina que jamás saludaba
Cada vez que el azar o el ascensor nos juntaba
Vino ayer a decirme que mi última novela
La excita más que todo Camilo José Cela.
El Joven aprendiz de pintor. Joaquín Sabina.
Mas que justificarme busco explicar el porque de la ausencia de nuevos post en este blog lagañoso. No porque haga falta y me hayan llegado miles de e-mails de preocupados lectores por la falta de posts, nah.
Lugar común es el dicho que te repiten hasta el cansancio de como "tu vida se transforma con la llegada de un bb" pero al menos en mi caso si ha sido cierto. Un vuelco muy feliz e interesante, donde todo es nuevo y que requiere atención constante. Llegamos al punto numero 1: el tiempo.
Pero aún mas que encontrar el espacio lo que me resulta complicado por el momento es reconocer mi voz, la voz de este mono que hace apenas unas semanas pensaba y actuaba de cierta manera y que ahora lo hace de otra y además se siente a gusto.
Y temas hay de sobra, tal vez tanta nueva información sea demasiada para procesar. Podría escribir sobre la inútil reunión del G-20, de la recesión mundial, de aviones y hechos sórdidos pero por el momento no quiero.
Escuchaba un comentario de Jarvis Cocker diciendo que cuando tienes un hijo tu creatividad se ve un tanto disminuida, tal vez.
Asi que a ver que letras aparecen en este blog que extrañamente está menos ansioso.
Juraba que mis cuadros eran su catecismo
Hoy, como ve que el público empieza a hacerme caso,
Ya no dice que pinto tan bien como Picaso.
En cambio la vecina que jamás saludaba
Cada vez que el azar o el ascensor nos juntaba
Vino ayer a decirme que mi última novela
La excita más que todo Camilo José Cela.
El Joven aprendiz de pintor. Joaquín Sabina.
Mas que justificarme busco explicar el porque de la ausencia de nuevos post en este blog lagañoso. No porque haga falta y me hayan llegado miles de e-mails de preocupados lectores por la falta de posts, nah.
Lugar común es el dicho que te repiten hasta el cansancio de como "tu vida se transforma con la llegada de un bb" pero al menos en mi caso si ha sido cierto. Un vuelco muy feliz e interesante, donde todo es nuevo y que requiere atención constante. Llegamos al punto numero 1: el tiempo.
Pero aún mas que encontrar el espacio lo que me resulta complicado por el momento es reconocer mi voz, la voz de este mono que hace apenas unas semanas pensaba y actuaba de cierta manera y que ahora lo hace de otra y además se siente a gusto.
Y temas hay de sobra, tal vez tanta nueva información sea demasiada para procesar. Podría escribir sobre la inútil reunión del G-20, de la recesión mundial, de aviones y hechos sórdidos pero por el momento no quiero.
Escuchaba un comentario de Jarvis Cocker diciendo que cuando tienes un hijo tu creatividad se ve un tanto disminuida, tal vez.
Asi que a ver que letras aparecen en este blog que extrañamente está menos ansioso.
Monday, 17 November 2008
Citas
Cada salida a la calle toma bastante tiempo, y es que hay que arreglarse y con el frio; enrrolarse la bufanda y enfundarse en el abrigo. Hacer lo mismo con el bb, ponerle además un gorrito. Cuando piensas que está todo listo y cargas la carreola compactada en ese momento el bb probablemente decida vomitar leche sobre su muda recién cambiada. Tal vez decida echarse una cagada, y mientras desabrochas el pañal quizás te rocíe con pipí, lo que provocará que te tengas que cambiar de ropa tu también. Asi que generalmente llegarás tarde a las citas si tu bb te acompaña.
Thursday, 6 November 2008
Desvelado
Te lo dicen mil, te lo dicen un millón de veces, pero nunca alcanzas a entender lo que quieren decir hasta que te toca tener un bb y dormir muy poco.
Wednesday, 5 November 2008
Reverend Martin Luther King, Jr.
Martin Luther King, Jr.
"I Have a Dream"
delivered 28 August 1963, at the Lincoln Memorial, Washington D.C.
[AUTHENTICITY CERTIFIED: Text version below transcribed directly from audio.]
I am happy to join with you today in what will go down in history as the greatest demonstration for freedom in the history of our nation.
Five score years ago, a great American, in whose symbolic shadow we stand today, signed the Emancipation Proclamation. This momentous decree came as a great beacon light of hope to millions of Negro slaves who had been seared in the flames of withering injustice. It came as a joyous daybreak to end the long night of their captivity.
But one hundred years later, the Negro still is not free. One hundred years later, the life of the Negro is still sadly crippled by the manacles of segregation and the chains of discrimination. One hundred years later, the Negro lives on a lonely island of poverty in the midst of a vast ocean of material prosperity. One hundred years later, the Negro is still languished in the corners of American society and finds himself an exile in his own land. And so we've come here today to dramatize a shameful condition.
In a sense we've come to our nation's capital to cash a check. When the architects of our republic wrote the magnificent words of the Constitution and the Declaration of Independence, they were signing a promissory note to which every American was to fall heir. This note was a promise that all men, yes, black men as well as white men, would be guaranteed the "unalienable Rights" of "Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness." It is obvious today that America has defaulted on this promissory note, insofar as her citizens of color are concerned. Instead of honoring this sacred obligation, America has given the Negro people a bad check, a check which has come back marked "insufficient funds."
But we refuse to believe that the bank of justice is bankrupt. We refuse to believe that there are insufficient funds in the great vaults of opportunity of this nation. And so, we've come to cash this check, a check that will give us upon demand the riches of freedom and the security of justice.
We have also come to this hallowed spot to remind America of the fierce urgency of Now. This is no time to engage in the luxury of cooling off or to take the tranquilizing drug of gradualism. Now is the time to make real the promises of democracy. Now is the time to rise from the dark and desolate valley of segregation to the sunlit path of racial justice. Now is the time to lift our nation from the quicksands of racial injustice to the solid rock of brotherhood. Now is the time to make justice a reality for all of God's children.
It would be fatal for the nation to overlook the urgency of the moment. This sweltering summer of the Negro's legitimate discontent will not pass until there is an invigorating autumn of freedom and equality. Nineteen sixty-three is not an end, but a beginning. And those who hope that the Negro needed to blow off steam and will now be content will have a rude awakening if the nation returns to business as usual. And there will be neither rest nor tranquility in America until the Negro is granted his citizenship rights. The whirlwinds of revolt will continue to shake the foundations of our nation until the bright day of justice emerges.
But there is something that I must say to my people, who stand on the warm threshold which leads into the palace of justice: In the process of gaining our rightful place, we must not be guilty of wrongful deeds. Let us not seek to satisfy our thirst for freedom by drinking from the cup of bitterness and hatred. We must forever conduct our struggle on the high plane of dignity and discipline. We must not allow our creative protest to degenerate into physical violence. Again and again, we must rise to the majestic heights of meeting physical force with soul force.
The marvelous new militancy which has engulfed the Negro community must not lead us to a distrust of all white people, for many of our white brothers, as evidenced by their presence here today, have come to realize that their destiny is tied up with our destiny. And they have come to realize that their freedom is inextricably bound to our freedom.
We cannot walk alone.
And as we walk, we must make the pledge that we shall always march ahead.
We cannot turn back.
There are those who are asking the devotees of civil rights, "When will you be satisfied?" We can never be satisfied as long as the Negro is the victim of the unspeakable horrors of police brutality. We can never be satisfied as long as our bodies, heavy with the fatigue of travel, cannot gain lodging in the motels of the highways and the hotels of the cities. We cannot be satisfied as long as the negro's basic mobility is from a smaller ghetto to a larger one. We can never be satisfied as long as our children are stripped of their self-hood and robbed of their dignity by a sign stating: "For Whites Only." We cannot be satisfied as long as a Negro in Mississippi cannot vote and a Negro in New York believes he has nothing for which to vote. No, no, we are not satisfied, and we will not be satisfied until "justice rolls down like waters, and righteousness like a mighty stream."¹
I am not unmindful that some of you have come here out of great trials and tribulations. Some of you have come fresh from narrow jail cells. And some of you have come from areas where your quest -- quest for freedom left you battered by the storms of persecution and staggered by the winds of police brutality. You have been the veterans of creative suffering. Continue to work with the faith that unearned suffering is redemptive. Go back to Mississippi, go back to Alabama, go back to South Carolina, go back to Georgia, go back to Louisiana, go back to the slums and ghettos of our northern cities, knowing that somehow this situation can and will be changed.
Let us not wallow in the valley of despair, I say to you today, my friends.
And so even though we face the difficulties of today and tomorrow, I still have a dream. It is a dream deeply rooted in the American dream.
I have a dream that one day this nation will rise up and live out the true meaning of its creed: "We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal."
I have a dream that one day on the red hills of Georgia, the sons of former slaves and the sons of former slave owners will be able to sit down together at the table of brotherhood.
I have a dream that one day even the state of Mississippi, a state sweltering with the heat of injustice, sweltering with the heat of oppression, will be transformed into an oasis of freedom and justice.
I have a dream that my four little children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin but by the content of their character.
I have a dream today!
I have a dream that one day, down in Alabama, with its vicious racists, with its governor having his lips dripping with the words of "interposition" and "nullification" -- one day right there in Alabama little black boys and black girls will be able to join hands with little white boys and white girls as sisters and brothers.
I have a dream today!
I have a dream that one day every valley shall be exalted, and every hill and mountain shall be made low, the rough places will be made plain, and the crooked places will be made straight; "and the glory of the Lord shall be revealed and all flesh shall see it together."
This is our hope, and this is the faith that I go back to the South with.
With this faith, we will be able to hew out of the mountain of despair a stone of hope. With this faith, we will be able to transform the jangling discords of our nation into a beautiful symphony of brotherhood. With this faith, we will be able to work together, to pray together, to struggle together, to go to jail together, to stand up for freedom together, knowing that we will be free one day.
And this will be the day -- this will be the day when all of God's children will be able to sing with new meaning:
My country 'tis of thee, sweet land of liberty, of thee I sing.
Land where my fathers died, land of the Pilgrim's pride,
From every mountainside, let freedom ring!
And if America is to be a great nation, this must become true.
And so let freedom ring from the prodigious hilltops of New Hampshire.
Let freedom ring from the mighty mountains of New York.
Let freedom ring from the heightening Alleghenies of Pennsylvania.
Let freedom ring from the snow-capped Rockies of Colorado.
Let freedom ring from the curvaceous slopes of California.
But not only that:
Let freedom ring from Stone Mountain of Georgia.
Let freedom ring from Lookout Mountain of Tennessee.
Let freedom ring from every hill and molehill of Mississippi.
From every mountainside, let freedom ring.
And when this happens, when we allow freedom ring, when we let it ring from every village and every hamlet, from every state and every city, we will be able to speed up that day when all of God's children, black men and white men, Jews and Gentiles, Protestants and Catholics, will be able to join hands and sing in the words of the old Negro spiritual:
Free at last! Free at last!
Thank God Almighty, we are free at last!
"I Have a Dream"
delivered 28 August 1963, at the Lincoln Memorial, Washington D.C.
[AUTHENTICITY CERTIFIED: Text version below transcribed directly from audio.]
I am happy to join with you today in what will go down in history as the greatest demonstration for freedom in the history of our nation.
Five score years ago, a great American, in whose symbolic shadow we stand today, signed the Emancipation Proclamation. This momentous decree came as a great beacon light of hope to millions of Negro slaves who had been seared in the flames of withering injustice. It came as a joyous daybreak to end the long night of their captivity.
But one hundred years later, the Negro still is not free. One hundred years later, the life of the Negro is still sadly crippled by the manacles of segregation and the chains of discrimination. One hundred years later, the Negro lives on a lonely island of poverty in the midst of a vast ocean of material prosperity. One hundred years later, the Negro is still languished in the corners of American society and finds himself an exile in his own land. And so we've come here today to dramatize a shameful condition.
In a sense we've come to our nation's capital to cash a check. When the architects of our republic wrote the magnificent words of the Constitution and the Declaration of Independence, they were signing a promissory note to which every American was to fall heir. This note was a promise that all men, yes, black men as well as white men, would be guaranteed the "unalienable Rights" of "Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness." It is obvious today that America has defaulted on this promissory note, insofar as her citizens of color are concerned. Instead of honoring this sacred obligation, America has given the Negro people a bad check, a check which has come back marked "insufficient funds."
But we refuse to believe that the bank of justice is bankrupt. We refuse to believe that there are insufficient funds in the great vaults of opportunity of this nation. And so, we've come to cash this check, a check that will give us upon demand the riches of freedom and the security of justice.
We have also come to this hallowed spot to remind America of the fierce urgency of Now. This is no time to engage in the luxury of cooling off or to take the tranquilizing drug of gradualism. Now is the time to make real the promises of democracy. Now is the time to rise from the dark and desolate valley of segregation to the sunlit path of racial justice. Now is the time to lift our nation from the quicksands of racial injustice to the solid rock of brotherhood. Now is the time to make justice a reality for all of God's children.
It would be fatal for the nation to overlook the urgency of the moment. This sweltering summer of the Negro's legitimate discontent will not pass until there is an invigorating autumn of freedom and equality. Nineteen sixty-three is not an end, but a beginning. And those who hope that the Negro needed to blow off steam and will now be content will have a rude awakening if the nation returns to business as usual. And there will be neither rest nor tranquility in America until the Negro is granted his citizenship rights. The whirlwinds of revolt will continue to shake the foundations of our nation until the bright day of justice emerges.
But there is something that I must say to my people, who stand on the warm threshold which leads into the palace of justice: In the process of gaining our rightful place, we must not be guilty of wrongful deeds. Let us not seek to satisfy our thirst for freedom by drinking from the cup of bitterness and hatred. We must forever conduct our struggle on the high plane of dignity and discipline. We must not allow our creative protest to degenerate into physical violence. Again and again, we must rise to the majestic heights of meeting physical force with soul force.
The marvelous new militancy which has engulfed the Negro community must not lead us to a distrust of all white people, for many of our white brothers, as evidenced by their presence here today, have come to realize that their destiny is tied up with our destiny. And they have come to realize that their freedom is inextricably bound to our freedom.
We cannot walk alone.
And as we walk, we must make the pledge that we shall always march ahead.
We cannot turn back.
There are those who are asking the devotees of civil rights, "When will you be satisfied?" We can never be satisfied as long as the Negro is the victim of the unspeakable horrors of police brutality. We can never be satisfied as long as our bodies, heavy with the fatigue of travel, cannot gain lodging in the motels of the highways and the hotels of the cities. We cannot be satisfied as long as the negro's basic mobility is from a smaller ghetto to a larger one. We can never be satisfied as long as our children are stripped of their self-hood and robbed of their dignity by a sign stating: "For Whites Only." We cannot be satisfied as long as a Negro in Mississippi cannot vote and a Negro in New York believes he has nothing for which to vote. No, no, we are not satisfied, and we will not be satisfied until "justice rolls down like waters, and righteousness like a mighty stream."¹
I am not unmindful that some of you have come here out of great trials and tribulations. Some of you have come fresh from narrow jail cells. And some of you have come from areas where your quest -- quest for freedom left you battered by the storms of persecution and staggered by the winds of police brutality. You have been the veterans of creative suffering. Continue to work with the faith that unearned suffering is redemptive. Go back to Mississippi, go back to Alabama, go back to South Carolina, go back to Georgia, go back to Louisiana, go back to the slums and ghettos of our northern cities, knowing that somehow this situation can and will be changed.
Let us not wallow in the valley of despair, I say to you today, my friends.
And so even though we face the difficulties of today and tomorrow, I still have a dream. It is a dream deeply rooted in the American dream.
I have a dream that one day this nation will rise up and live out the true meaning of its creed: "We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal."
I have a dream that one day on the red hills of Georgia, the sons of former slaves and the sons of former slave owners will be able to sit down together at the table of brotherhood.
I have a dream that one day even the state of Mississippi, a state sweltering with the heat of injustice, sweltering with the heat of oppression, will be transformed into an oasis of freedom and justice.
I have a dream that my four little children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin but by the content of their character.
I have a dream today!
I have a dream that one day, down in Alabama, with its vicious racists, with its governor having his lips dripping with the words of "interposition" and "nullification" -- one day right there in Alabama little black boys and black girls will be able to join hands with little white boys and white girls as sisters and brothers.
I have a dream today!
I have a dream that one day every valley shall be exalted, and every hill and mountain shall be made low, the rough places will be made plain, and the crooked places will be made straight; "and the glory of the Lord shall be revealed and all flesh shall see it together."
This is our hope, and this is the faith that I go back to the South with.
With this faith, we will be able to hew out of the mountain of despair a stone of hope. With this faith, we will be able to transform the jangling discords of our nation into a beautiful symphony of brotherhood. With this faith, we will be able to work together, to pray together, to struggle together, to go to jail together, to stand up for freedom together, knowing that we will be free one day.
And this will be the day -- this will be the day when all of God's children will be able to sing with new meaning:
My country 'tis of thee, sweet land of liberty, of thee I sing.
Land where my fathers died, land of the Pilgrim's pride,
From every mountainside, let freedom ring!
And if America is to be a great nation, this must become true.
And so let freedom ring from the prodigious hilltops of New Hampshire.
Let freedom ring from the mighty mountains of New York.
Let freedom ring from the heightening Alleghenies of Pennsylvania.
Let freedom ring from the snow-capped Rockies of Colorado.
Let freedom ring from the curvaceous slopes of California.
But not only that:
Let freedom ring from Stone Mountain of Georgia.
Let freedom ring from Lookout Mountain of Tennessee.
Let freedom ring from every hill and molehill of Mississippi.
From every mountainside, let freedom ring.
And when this happens, when we allow freedom ring, when we let it ring from every village and every hamlet, from every state and every city, we will be able to speed up that day when all of God's children, black men and white men, Jews and Gentiles, Protestants and Catholics, will be able to join hands and sing in the words of the old Negro spiritual:
Free at last! Free at last!
Thank God Almighty, we are free at last!
Tuesday, 4 November 2008
Baudelaire
ELEVACIÓN
Por encima de estanques, por encima de valles,
De montañas y bosques, de mares y de nubes,
Más allá de los soles, más allá de los éteres,
Más allá del confín de estrelladas esferas,
Te desplazas, mi espíritu, con toda agilidad
Y como un nadador que se extasía en las olas,
Alegremente surcas la inmensidad profunda
Con voluptuosidad indecible y viril.
Escápate muy lejos de estos mórbidos miasmas,
Sube a purificarte al aire superior
Y apura, como un noble y divino licor,
La luz clara que inunda los límpidos espacios.
Detrás de los hastíos y los hondos pesares
Que abruman con su peso la neblinosa vida,
¡Feliz aquel que puede con brioso aleteo
Lanzarse hacia los campos luminosos y calmos!
Aquel cuyas ideas, cual si fueran alondras,
Levantan hacia el cielo matutino su vuelo
-¡Que planea sobre todo, y sabe sin esfuerzo,
La lengua de las flores y de las cosas mudas!
Charles Baudelaire. De 42 flores del mal. Traducción de Antonio Martínez Sarrión.
Por encima de estanques, por encima de valles,
De montañas y bosques, de mares y de nubes,
Más allá de los soles, más allá de los éteres,
Más allá del confín de estrelladas esferas,
Te desplazas, mi espíritu, con toda agilidad
Y como un nadador que se extasía en las olas,
Alegremente surcas la inmensidad profunda
Con voluptuosidad indecible y viril.
Escápate muy lejos de estos mórbidos miasmas,
Sube a purificarte al aire superior
Y apura, como un noble y divino licor,
La luz clara que inunda los límpidos espacios.
Detrás de los hastíos y los hondos pesares
Que abruman con su peso la neblinosa vida,
¡Feliz aquel que puede con brioso aleteo
Lanzarse hacia los campos luminosos y calmos!
Aquel cuyas ideas, cual si fueran alondras,
Levantan hacia el cielo matutino su vuelo
-¡Que planea sobre todo, y sabe sin esfuerzo,
La lengua de las flores y de las cosas mudas!
Charles Baudelaire. De 42 flores del mal. Traducción de Antonio Martínez Sarrión.
Sunday, 2 November 2008
Primero Gordon Brown y el gobernador del Banco de Inglaterra Mervyn King, admitieron que Gran Bretaña estaba al borde de una recesión. Más tarde, se reportó que las ventas de alimentos habían tenido su más estrepitosa caída desde hacía ya 20 años. La noche de ayer llego la final e irrevocable prueba de que el país esta atravezando duros tiempos económicos, no vistos desde los ochentas: AC/DC ha vuelto a encabezar las listas de albumes más vendidos después de 28 años. Aquellos tentados a marcar diferencias deben de notar que la última vez que AC/DC logró un número 1 en Inglaterra, el país estaba al borde de una recesión. Back in Black, el álbum que impulsó el despegue comercial de la banda y que se convirtió en el segundo mejor vendido de la historia, salió a la venta en 1980, en el momento en que la inflación había alcanzado 20% y el desempleo se aproximaba a los dos millones. Cuando la economía se recuperó, la popularidad de AC/DC se redujo.
El encanto de AC/DC en tiempos de incertidumbre es bastante sencillo. Las masas ansian algo poco complicado y en lo que puedan confiar en tiempos de desasosiego, y el rock no ha producido una banda más directa y confiable como AC/DC.
Extracto de la nota: Things really must be bad - AC/DC are No 1 again de Alexis Petridis para The Guardian 27.10.08.
Traducción: Mascapalabras.
El encanto de AC/DC en tiempos de incertidumbre es bastante sencillo. Las masas ansian algo poco complicado y en lo que puedan confiar en tiempos de desasosiego, y el rock no ha producido una banda más directa y confiable como AC/DC.
Extracto de la nota: Things really must be bad - AC/DC are No 1 again de Alexis Petridis para The Guardian 27.10.08.
Traducción: Mascapalabras.
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