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Mr Dalloway
said he would buy the flowers himself.
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27th-Apr-2008 05:14 pm - Cuando la verdad llega de golpe.

‘That’s it,’ James said, with nodding recognition. ‘It’s cuddling I want really as much as everything else. It’ll sound stupid to you, Willy, but over the last few weeks I’ve just felt… so out of it. I’ve gone so long without love and I’ve become simply so accustomed to it all, as if that’s how life is and evermore shall be–death–horror–amen. It struck me that I’ve turned into the archetypal middle-class intellectual out of touch with everything, just like someone in a Forster novel, and that was eighty years ago… It’s all very well being ironic, but then it keeps coming over me that no one wants me, the summer’s burning away, and no one makes a move for me, I don’t preoccupy anyone…’ He wailed a little but was unable to cry.


Hollinghurst, Alan. The Swimming Pool Library. New York: Vintage. 1989. p. 257.



Esto no necesita explicaciones. Amén.
18th-Feb-2008 04:53 pm - Lo veo y no río -ni sonrío-.

"Why is not it settled? He is blinded, and nothing will open his eyes;
nothing can, after having had truths before him so long in vain.
He will marry her, and be poor and miserable.”

JANE AUSTEN, Mansfield Park

Lo acabo de ver frente a mí y ya comencé a sudar. Está con alguien. No sé quién sea, ¿una amiga? ¿su pretendienta? ¿su novia? Tal vez. Todo es posible. Lo que sé es que los dos se ven felices. Ella ríe, él también. Ella se mueve de adelante hacia atrás y él levanta las manos y sonríe y ella sonríe y ambos sonríen.

Casi no hablan. Sólo ríen en ese tipo de complicidad que no necesita de demasiadas palabras. Sólo ríen mientras que yo, yo sólo estoy a unos metros de él, donde puedo verlo y él me puede ver. Aunque él está riendo y yo lo estoy viendo reír. ¿Hay alguna razón para que él me vea? No.

Por eso yo no río. Yo sólo lo veo. Porque así es nuestra relación. Yo lo veo y él no a mí. Yo lo idealizo y él vive. Yo no vivo. O tal vez sí pero no mucho. Al menos no con él. Y así, solo, ¿qué tiene de divertida la vida? ¡Claro! Mi diversión en la vida es verlo reír.

7th-Feb-2008 12:33 pm - De los tipos de tareas que hay.
THESE POEMS, SHE SAID
by Robert Bringhurst

These poems, these poems,
these poems, she said, are poems
with no love in them. These are the poems of a man
who would leave his wife and child because
they made noise in his study. These are the poems
of a man who would murder his mother to claim
the inheritance. These are the poems of a man
like Plato, she said, meaning something I did not
comprehend but which nevertheless
offended me. These are the poems of a man
who would rather sleep with himself than with women,
she said. These are the poems of a man
with eyes like a drawknife, with hands like a pickpocket's
hands, woven of water and logic
and hunger, with no strand of love in them. These
poems are as heartless as birdsong, as unmeant
as elm leaves, which if they love love only
the wide blue sky and the air and the idea
of elm leaves. Self-love is an ending, she said,
and not a beginning. Love means love
of the thing sung, not of the song or the singing.
These poems, she said. . . .
                        You are, he said,
beautiful.
          That is not love, she said rightly.


Tarea para Lecturas dirigidas: Traducirlo al español.

Tarea para mi egoteca personal: Aprenderlo de memoria.

Tarea para mi vida
: Terminar de aceptar que admirar en demasía la belleza de alguien no es amor.
25th-Nov-2007 01:22 am - Epifanía en la madrugada.
MAD GIRL'S LOVE SONG
by Sylvia Plath

"I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead;
I lift my lids and all is born again.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

The stars go waltzing out in blue and red,
And arbitrary blackness gallops in:
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.

I dreamed that you bewitched me into bed
And sung me moon-struck, kissed me quite insane.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

God topples from the sky, hell's fires fade:
Exit seraphim and Satan's men:
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.

I fancied you'd return the way you said,
But I grow old and I forget your name.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

I should have loved a thunderbird instead;
At least when spring comes they roar back again.
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)"

¿Quién es el que disfruta fantasear con el momento en que él volteará a verlo y le dirá "Te amo"? ¿Quién es el que en las noches se acuesta pensando en lo maravilloso que sería dormir a su lado? ¿Quién es el que día a día se hace más ilusiones para provocarse una desilusión que le "romperá el corazón"? ¿Quién no aprende de sus errores?

Creo que yo.

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