sábado, 11 de abril de 2009

Round here

Step out the front door like a ghost into the fog where no one notices the contrast of white on white, and in between the moon and you the angels get a better view of the crumbling difference between wrong and right. I walk in the air, between the rain, through myself and back again. Where? I don't know. Maria says she's dying, through the door I hear her crying, why? I don't know.

Round here we always stand up straight, round here something radiates.

Maria came from Nashville with a suitcase in her hand she said she'd like to meet a boy who looks like Elvis. She walks along the edge of where the ocean meets the land just like she's walking on a wire in the circus. She parks her car outside of my house and takes her clothes off, says she's close to understanding Jesus. She knows she's more than just a little misunderstood, she has trouble acting normal when she's nervous.

Round here we're carving out our names, round here we all look the same, round here we talk just like lions, but we sacrifice like lambs, round here she's slipping through my hands.

Sleeping children, better run like the wind, out of the lightning dream: mama's little baby better get herself in out of the lightning...

She says "It's only in my head". She says: "Sshhh, I know: it's only in my head".

But the girl on the car in the parking lot says: "Man, you should try to take a shot. Can't you see my walls are crumblin?". Then she looks up at the building and says she's thinkin of jumping, she says she's tired of life, she must be tired of something.

Round here she's always on my mind, round here, hey, man, I got lots of time. Round here we're never sent to bed early and nobody makes us wait, round here we stay up very, very, very, very late. I can't see nothing, nothing round here. Won't you catch me if i'm falling? Won't you catch me if i'm falling? Won't you catch me? Cuz i'm falling down on you. See, I'm under the gun round here, oh man, I said I'm under the gun round here and I can't see nothing, nothing round here.


(WE ALL LOOK THE SAME)

martes, 7 de abril de 2009

¡Gatitos!

Nada mejor para una tarde en que te a-bu-rre lo que estás haciendo en el trabajo.









(MIAAAAAU!)

lunes, 6 de abril de 2009

Me puse noventero

1. Maria says she's dying, through the door I hear her crying, why? I don't know...

2. I just want someone to say me I will always be there when you wake...

3. I am just a worthless liar, I am just an imbecile, I will only complicate you, trust in me and fall as well. I will find a center in you, I will chew it up and leave, trust me, trust me, trust me, trust me, trust me...



4. Twenty five years of my life and still...

5. Mmm, mmm, mmm, mmm...

6. Won't you come and wash away the raaaain?



7. Sabotage!

8. So save your prayers for when we're really gonna need'em, throw out your cares and fly: wanna go for a ride?

(ROUND HERE WE ALL LOOK THE SAME)

domingo, 5 de abril de 2009

Zopencos

Cuando alguien llega a un programa de radio y empieza ante el micrófono: "Bueno, antes que nada, buenas noches a todos y gracias por la invitación; déjenme platicarles que...", lo califico de idiota y me pongo en guardia. A veces me permito un último matiz: cierto tono de voz puede salvarlo. Pero eso ha ocurrido en uno o dos casos. Si, además, se pone a hablar del "concepto" o de "trascender", automáticamente me merece el calificativo de perfecto pelmazo que merece espantosa y veloz lapidación.

(POR ESO NO ESCUCHO LA RADIO)

Una revelación

Dije antes: el genio de esta caracterización subraya pero principalmente disimula el enorme esfuerzo actoral de Marion Cotillard. Cierro mi bocota enorme y me corrijo. Marion es más que pose y gesto y maquillaje. Qué ridiculez, untar de polvos a una estatua: no se pinta sino aquello que ya está vivo para hacer más evidente una verdad inevitable. ¡Marion Cotillard se sumerge sin miedo en la vida tortuosa de Edith Piaf ¡Se deja llevar! ¡Hace, siente, no piensa!

Qué envidia de actriz. Qué envidia de actriz. Qué actriz afortunada y bendita. Qué ojos, qué músculos faciales. Qué espectáculo tan fascinante.

(JE NE REGRET DE RIEN!)

Y lo que no seré nunca

Things I’ve heard and I’ve seen and I’ve felt and I’ve been, tell me I’ll never be anybody’s lover now: it begins in the heart and it hurts when it’s true, it only hurts because it’s true...



(I'LL NEVER BE ANYBODY HERO'S NOW!)

Descubrimiento

Últimamente, no me he sentido enfermo. Los días pasan con la lentitud de las horas que impiden que las llenes; inútiles, se prolongan las horas; nada hay más irrelevante que tu conciencia del tiempo que se te va. Envejeces, y no haces nada contigo mismo. Estás enfermo.

Yo vivo todo lo anterior, pero he aprendido —en el ansia, en la curiosidad, en los proyectos— a reírme de una dolencia que ya no me espanta: sé, al menos, que no es todopoderosa.

Estoy vivo.

No me siento enfermo.

Sé que nunca me curaré. Sé que llevaré conmigo esta marca en la frente hasta el final de mis días. Así viva cientos de años, Dios no ha de quitarme el tatuaje que me puso.

Pero ahora mismo sonrío y digo:

sigamos adelante.

No me siento enfermo.

(¡MIAU!)