I wonder if watching "The Lost World: Jurassic Park" means that Sophia (my 5-year-old sister) will have nightmares tonight. Or maybe Lucia (my 79-year-old abuela) will have them instead.
The movie sucked, but it allowed me to redesign this page in the meantime.
Sunday, June 29, 2008
Saturday, June 28, 2008
Latino veteran Bruin.
I was supposed to have lunch with Jess at In-N-Out on Friday. The restaurant remains, years after I stopped working there, a preferred place for me because of the great food and the oddly relaxing sounds of spoiled Westside teenagers munching on animal-style fries.
Jess was supposed to drive to my apartment and honk, because she did not have her phone on her. 45 minutes after she was supposed to be there, hunger won over my will to wait, and I left a note in my door saying I was walking by myself and to meet me there instead.
On my way, I bought a copy of the LA Times, and picked up The Onion before going into In-N-Out. It was just past the lunch rush, and the place was starting to empty out. I had one of those odd cravings for a special order. I asked for a triple cheeseburger with grilled onions, well done and wrapped in lettuce.
Once I got my order, I took a seat in one of the small tables near the back entrance. Being by myself, I figured I would avoid the booths that the teenagers prefer, or any of the window tables near the line where people order.
A few minutes later, an short 82-year-old tapped my shoulder. He was wearing a "US Submarine Veterans" hat, a blue jacket, and velcro shoes.
"I like your shirt," he said with a broken smile. I was wearing my "Legalize LA" t-shirt from American Apparel, and he had just read the JFK quote gracing my back. As he smiled, his eyes became really small and cheerful, as I would come to learn over our two and a half hour conversation that followed.
His name is Rudy Galaviz and he is part of the UCLA Class of 1952, having studied International Relations. Before coming to Westwood, he attended local schools in San Clemente and enrolled in the armed forces right out of high school, to serve in WWII.
The happy old man was a riot, calling McCain, "a young racist", and asking me about my love life. He was excited about my trip to Argentina, blaming his early marriage in his inability to fulfill his world-traveling dreams. He told the stories of his service as a radar operator in the Pacific, and his current fight against racism and ageism in his last days. "I could write a book about how people treat me differently when I am wearing this hat and when I am not", he said, taking off his blue baseball cap. "Some think I wear it to express pride, but I'm only doing it to protect myself from the Americans," he said, only half-jokingly.
He spoke highly of his 'gringa' wife, and invited me over to meet her someday. As we left, he gave me a big hug and told Jess, who had caught up with us, that I had made his day.
I know it's cheesy, but he had made my week.
Jess was supposed to drive to my apartment and honk, because she did not have her phone on her. 45 minutes after she was supposed to be there, hunger won over my will to wait, and I left a note in my door saying I was walking by myself and to meet me there instead.
On my way, I bought a copy of the LA Times, and picked up The Onion before going into In-N-Out. It was just past the lunch rush, and the place was starting to empty out. I had one of those odd cravings for a special order. I asked for a triple cheeseburger with grilled onions, well done and wrapped in lettuce.
Once I got my order, I took a seat in one of the small tables near the back entrance. Being by myself, I figured I would avoid the booths that the teenagers prefer, or any of the window tables near the line where people order.
A few minutes later, an short 82-year-old tapped my shoulder. He was wearing a "US Submarine Veterans" hat, a blue jacket, and velcro shoes.
"I like your shirt," he said with a broken smile. I was wearing my "Legalize LA" t-shirt from American Apparel, and he had just read the JFK quote gracing my back. As he smiled, his eyes became really small and cheerful, as I would come to learn over our two and a half hour conversation that followed.
His name is Rudy Galaviz and he is part of the UCLA Class of 1952, having studied International Relations. Before coming to Westwood, he attended local schools in San Clemente and enrolled in the armed forces right out of high school, to serve in WWII.
The happy old man was a riot, calling McCain, "a young racist", and asking me about my love life. He was excited about my trip to Argentina, blaming his early marriage in his inability to fulfill his world-traveling dreams. He told the stories of his service as a radar operator in the Pacific, and his current fight against racism and ageism in his last days. "I could write a book about how people treat me differently when I am wearing this hat and when I am not", he said, taking off his blue baseball cap. "Some think I wear it to express pride, but I'm only doing it to protect myself from the Americans," he said, only half-jokingly.
He spoke highly of his 'gringa' wife, and invited me over to meet her someday. As we left, he gave me a big hug and told Jess, who had caught up with us, that I had made his day.
I know it's cheesy, but he had made my week.
Friday, June 27, 2008
Filosofia Corderiana
Gustavo Cordera, cantante de Bersuit Vergarabat, habla de lo que Argentina (y latinoamerica) tienen. Y que a los EE.UU. les falta.
"Preguntarse verdaderamente que estás haciendo en el mundo, que sos, enamorarte, juntarte con amigos en los bares, cambiar el mundo, soñar, discutir, ir a la cancha, los domingos encontrarse a comer un asado con amigos, con tu familia, seguir a una mujer por la calle y decirle piropos, cositas lindas. Pasan muchas cosas en argentina, pasan muchas cosas en latinoamerica."
"Preguntarse verdaderamente que estás haciendo en el mundo, que sos, enamorarte, juntarte con amigos en los bares, cambiar el mundo, soñar, discutir, ir a la cancha, los domingos encontrarse a comer un asado con amigos, con tu familia, seguir a una mujer por la calle y decirle piropos, cositas lindas. Pasan muchas cosas en argentina, pasan muchas cosas en latinoamerica."
Wednesday, June 25, 2008
Drexler
It's gonna be hard to write this thing, because my brain is wired in a bilingual code, mixing parts of all my worlds in every sentence.
But while procrastinating right now I heard, for the first time, the actual lyrics to Jorge Drexler's "El Otro Engranaje". The last stanza:
Clara, evidente, manda la libido,
la fidelidad, brumosa palabra,
con su antigua lista de gestos prohibidos,
muerde siempre menos de lo que ladra.
TRADUCCION:
Clear, and evident, the libido rules,
fidelity, foggy word,
with its aged list of forbidden gestures,
always bites less than what it barks.
Add Freud to the list of people that would have listened to Drexler.
But while procrastinating right now I heard, for the first time, the actual lyrics to Jorge Drexler's "El Otro Engranaje". The last stanza:
Clara, evidente, manda la libido,
la fidelidad, brumosa palabra,
con su antigua lista de gestos prohibidos,
muerde siempre menos de lo que ladra.
TRADUCCION:
Clear, and evident, the libido rules,
fidelity, foggy word,
with its aged list of forbidden gestures,
always bites less than what it barks.
Add Freud to the list of people that would have listened to Drexler.
Long time no see
Damn this year changed me a lot. I think we can mark the date of the last entry as a turning point.
Evo spoke of the immigrants in a recent letter. Check it: Evo's letter to the EU. I don't like Evo, and I don't like his opposition. But I really want to go to Bolivia. I need real events, history, people, debates, smiles, and coca leaves.
Personally? Nowadays I can't even lift my mood with the depressing songs that usually do it for me.
Evo spoke of the immigrants in a recent letter. Check it: Evo's letter to the EU. I don't like Evo, and I don't like his opposition. But I really want to go to Bolivia. I need real events, history, people, debates, smiles, and coca leaves.
Personally? Nowadays I can't even lift my mood with the depressing songs that usually do it for me.
Tuesday, June 17, 2008
Genio de la Música
Una canción esencial, de Fito Paez:
Al Lado Del Camino
Me gusta estar al lado del camino
fumando el humo mientras todo pasa
me gusta abrir los ojos y estar vivo
tener que vérmelas con la resaca
entonces navegar se hace preciso
en barcos que se estrellen en la nada
vivir atormentado de sentido
creo que esta, sí, es la parte más pesada
En tiempos donde nadie escucha a nadie
en tiempos donde todos contra todos
en tiempos egoístas y mezquinos
en tiempos donde siempre estamos solos
habrá que declararse incompetente
en todas las materias de mercado
habrá que declararse un inocente
o habrá que ser abyecto y desalmado
Yo ya no pertenezco a ningún istmo
me considero vivo y enterrado
yo puse las canciones en tu walkman
el tiempo a mi me puso en otro lado
tendré que hacer lo que es no debido
tendré que hacer el bien y hacer el daño
no olvides que el perdón es lo divino
y errar a veces suele ser humano.
No es bueno nunca hacerse de enemigos
que no estén a la altura del conflicto
que piensan que hacen una guerra
y se hacen pis encima como chicos
que rondan por siniestros ministerios
haciendo la parodia del artista
que todo lo que brilla en este mundo
tan solo les da caspa y les da envidia.
Yo era un pibe triste y encantado
de Beatles, caña legui y maravillas
los libros, las canciones y los pianos
el cine, las traiciones, los enigmas
mi padre, la cerveza, las pastillas, los misterios, el whisky malo
los óleos, el amor, los escenarios
el hambre, el frio, el crimen, el dinero y mis 10 tías
me hicieron este hombre enreverado.
Si alguna vez me cruzas por la calle
regálame tu beso y no te aflijas
si ves que estoy pensando en otra cosa
no es nada malo, es que pasó una brisa
la brisa de la muerte enamorada
que ronda como un ángel asesino
mas no te asustes, siempre se me pasa
es solo la intuición de mi destino.
Me gusta estar al lado del camino
fumando el humo mientras todo pasa
me gusta regresarme en el olvido
para acordarme en sueños de mi casa
del chico que jugaba a la pelota
del 49585
nadie nos prometió un jardin de rosas
hablamos del peligro de estar vivo.
No vine a divertir a tu familia
mientras el mundo se cae a pedazos
me gusta estar al lado del camino
me gusta sentirte a mi lado
me gusta estar al lado del camino
dormirte cada noche entre mis brazos
al lado del camino (x 3)
es más entretenido y más barato
al lado del camino (x 2).
Al Lado Del Camino
Me gusta estar al lado del camino
fumando el humo mientras todo pasa
me gusta abrir los ojos y estar vivo
tener que vérmelas con la resaca
entonces navegar se hace preciso
en barcos que se estrellen en la nada
vivir atormentado de sentido
creo que esta, sí, es la parte más pesada
En tiempos donde nadie escucha a nadie
en tiempos donde todos contra todos
en tiempos egoístas y mezquinos
en tiempos donde siempre estamos solos
habrá que declararse incompetente
en todas las materias de mercado
habrá que declararse un inocente
o habrá que ser abyecto y desalmado
Yo ya no pertenezco a ningún istmo
me considero vivo y enterrado
yo puse las canciones en tu walkman
el tiempo a mi me puso en otro lado
tendré que hacer lo que es no debido
tendré que hacer el bien y hacer el daño
no olvides que el perdón es lo divino
y errar a veces suele ser humano.
No es bueno nunca hacerse de enemigos
que no estén a la altura del conflicto
que piensan que hacen una guerra
y se hacen pis encima como chicos
que rondan por siniestros ministerios
haciendo la parodia del artista
que todo lo que brilla en este mundo
tan solo les da caspa y les da envidia.
Yo era un pibe triste y encantado
de Beatles, caña legui y maravillas
los libros, las canciones y los pianos
el cine, las traiciones, los enigmas
mi padre, la cerveza, las pastillas, los misterios, el whisky malo
los óleos, el amor, los escenarios
el hambre, el frio, el crimen, el dinero y mis 10 tías
me hicieron este hombre enreverado.
Si alguna vez me cruzas por la calle
regálame tu beso y no te aflijas
si ves que estoy pensando en otra cosa
no es nada malo, es que pasó una brisa
la brisa de la muerte enamorada
que ronda como un ángel asesino
mas no te asustes, siempre se me pasa
es solo la intuición de mi destino.
Me gusta estar al lado del camino
fumando el humo mientras todo pasa
me gusta regresarme en el olvido
para acordarme en sueños de mi casa
del chico que jugaba a la pelota
del 49585
nadie nos prometió un jardin de rosas
hablamos del peligro de estar vivo.
No vine a divertir a tu familia
mientras el mundo se cae a pedazos
me gusta estar al lado del camino
me gusta sentirte a mi lado
me gusta estar al lado del camino
dormirte cada noche entre mis brazos
al lado del camino (x 3)
es más entretenido y más barato
al lado del camino (x 2).
Monday, June 09, 2008
Civitas Peregrina
Augustine’s civitas peregrina advocated as the only state of freedom, against the state of oppression, that of pilgrimage: tearing oneself away from places to accomplish universal mutual assistance, but also tearing oneself away from any identity (including one’s own) in order to accomplish subjective fulfillment in the boundlessness of caritas.
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