7/31/2006

Sarlo señala que la juventud es, en nuestros días, más prestigiosa que nunca. La categoría de joven garantiza un set de ilusiones con la ventaja de que la sexualidad puede ser llamada a escena y, al mismo tiempo, desplegarse más libre de sus obligaciones adultas, entre ellas, la de la definición tajante del sexo. Así, la juventud es un territorio en el que todos quieren vivir indefinidamente. Esta valoración a la juventud se construye a través del declive de la autoridad, y en un espacio en crisis el cual es la escuela. Además, el mercado provee de productos que garantizan la juventud, a través de invenciones cosméticas y cirugías plásticas: “el deseo ha encontrado en la construcción de objetos a partir del propio cuerpo el non plus ultra donde se unen dos mitos, belleza y juventud. En una carrera contra el tiempo, el mercado propone una ficción consoladora: la vejez puede ser diferida” (Sarlo, 1994; p. 32).

7/21/2006

Little Thing

So, um, so we've been doing this, uh, this tour, what I guess this is our fifth show we've done, Tim and I, and, uh... (applause) And, uh, so this little song has been growing out, uh, while we've been playing, sort of a little story. And the little story I was in New York City and, uh, I was walking down the street. Trying to find the place I was going (I can't remember where I was going now). 'Cause I met this girl and I asked her directions, you know. And she was, she was tiny, you know. She, she wasn't young, she was just tiny. And, uh, so I asked her directions and she said, 'Oh that's the way down there, walk over there, go down there, you walk over there, and you go down there and then you're there.' Something like that, anyway. So, uh, but I walked about ten paces away and I was thinking... Daaamn, that girl was fine. And, oh, I turned around to tell her so, and ask her maybe her name, or maybe if we should go and get a cup of, who knows, coffee or something. And I'm sure if I turned around and find
her there I would have found out something...

But she talked so good
But when I turned around, she was gone
Oh, she was gone
I didn't even get her name, oh
I thought, goddamn
With your face in my mind
And your voice in my ears
Still echoes
Oh, I bought a lovely flower
Standing there, we met that day
And hope that you would return
But, no, no, no

I can't remember where I was going
But I can't remember where I was leading to
Or what led me to you, but
Oh, and the weight is all through my head
The look of you, the sound
The way you cackled at me
From then and then, I didn't know where I was going
But always I cry

And so, hey, oh
The hands that pour my hands on you again
Hey, I will beg you, I'll beg, oh
See me, please find me again
Oh, I'm lost again
I sit here drinking coffee
Or water depending the time of day
But, oh, you're with me like a ghost of a mother
Oh, you're with me like the pain of a father
Oh, I wish I, I wish I could call you something
Other than the girl that I saw then

But, hey, I think that I would recognize you in a second
But, hey, I only saw you for a minute, maybe less
I don't hold my hand where
But I waited, honest
I'm lost now, I'm lost now
I can't remember what I used to be
But, oh, hey, yeah, weighted by the memory of
The memory of a love that never got born, but hey
Oh, hey

Do I even cross your mind lately
With more than just a laughing
Did you think as you walked away, maybe
You were, hey
Oh, I hope you did
So, hey, yeah
You would, you would have been feeling
The same thing as I am now

Dave Matthews y Tim Reynolds

11am

7am...
The garbage truck beeps as it backs up
And I start my day thinking about what I’ve thrown away...
Could I push rewind?
All the credits rolled in signifying the end
But I missed the best part
Could we please go back to the start?
Forgive my indecision



11am
By now you would think that I would be up
But my bed sheets shade the heated choices I made....
What did I find?
I never thought I could want someone so much
Cause now you’re not here
And I’m knee deep in my own fear
Forgive my indecision...
I am only a man...

12 pm and my dusty telephone rings...
Heavy head up from my pillow, who could it be?
I hope its you... there... ooooooohh....

Incubus

7/01/2006

Preludio al Acceso

El cuento de Laura es muy aburrido, por lo que anoche tome la resolución de no contarlo más a los amigos. Cada vez debía exagerarlo, hacerlo más interesante, todo por conseguir una carcajada de un cretino, para suavizar más la cerveza, para no quedarme con la mirada fija en el vacío, en el aire que recubre el espacio entre aquellas dos estrellas cuyos nombres jamás recordare.

Lo que nunca le he contado a nadie fue lo que siguió. Así como la fantasía y el aburrimiento me obligaron a exagerar la historia, la rutina y la tristeza me llevaron a redescubrir a Laura, a recrearla en mi cabeza, pues no recuerdo su rostro, solo su glotona tendencia a morder labios, sus pómulos prominentes, su mirada de niña perdida. Era necesario fantasearla, pues era importante para mi proceso terapéutico, o por lo menos eso decía la viejita de los miércoles a las siete, en la comodidad de un sofá, pero ajeno al diván por otros 80.000 semanales.

No quise una fantasía libre, Laura se merecía más que simples asociaciones de palabras, o fantasías masturbatorias baratas con traje de policía o algo por el estilo. La única forma de honrar el episodio (fortuito) de aquella noche era a través de una investigación rigurosa, meticulosa. No era complicado, conocía gente que podía conocerla, bastaba con contar algunos detalles, exagerar y minimizar, y dar para recibir. Después calzaría los espacios vacíos con mis propias creaciones, y así nace la novia de frankesntain en la mente de este loco que lamentablemente dejo el medicamento hace demasiado tiempo.