Thoughts arrive like butterflies ...
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pnFeCex032g&feature=related
I return to the novel I read at 17 years, that it became a common reference among educated people, cocky or not, false or not. Entry in common references still do not get it like reading a novel current, light dialogue. More bien es cavernosa. Más bien es intempestiva. Confrontativa. Pero aún con todo ello sigue siendo un éxito editorial.
Hace unos años abandoné la literatura. La facultad de Letras, sí, pero también el consumo de literatura. También abandoné otros lenguajes, otro tipo de actos como la carretera o el jazz a oscuras, el intercambio de libros o la elaboración de textos incomprensibles, las noches de alcohol, la fotografía contrastada, el montaje en mi escritura, como si con todas esas renuncias buscara cifrar una conquista, algo así como si un músico de blues, harto de tanta melancolía, comenzara de pronto a dedicarse a la jardinería.
No es la primera vez que la renuncia serves as a purge. Something
between such nostalgia and therefore void. Something
abrasive, somewhat hazy, something.
light was not what those lights, it was.
not in those close encounters, no.
Beauty is a partner, has said many times.
And not have to hurt shit, is beauty.
But how to understand, who helps us in this endeavor haunting beauty? It is easier to deal with drugs, it is easier to deal with abusers. Focus
heaven. Focusing on the first glance. Conquered in the disaster mental noise.
In love of fiction. Losing
age with ease.
Knowing how to talk about anything.
There is a certain beauty that brings us to the abyss, not dark, underground party should be prevented. Another beauty leads to desire. Another romance between strangers. Another change in the bud.
There is some noble beauty also returning to the experience of existence.
But none of these beauties have clear ways or methods, rather it is the individual who executes them one way or another. That's where the inexperience we fuck. That's where learning becomes dimension.
I was sick of empty without substance. There's nothing chaotic the gap substantiated that more than a mathematician fascinated. I rather live the quiet vacuum, vacuum inoperative, like having the universe and not knowing how to navigate it (NASA, if it exists for the purposes that we have said, be stuck in this error of perspective all life is not easy, instead of wanting to move tons of technology and chemical processes / astrophysicists roads not fit for it, adapt the object to move to the properties of the road? a technology of thought, shit starts to develop when ?)
And coincidentally, at the storm drain, this novel-publishing success I'm sure I gave as I give today, despite having at that time with the "burden" necessary, or rather, heaviness necessary (though, as the same book raises, light perception, "light", the existence "His hand-reading and no guarantee of delivery). Today
rather believe that there is a game in all this that I am. Suddenly you can be loud distortion that harmonized climax comes as a minute 7, Starla (side-B of the Smashing legendary) but if my daughter comes to ask me something, I put pause and serve, and then I go back to ataraxia of James Iha and company (the pause is then total and in all directions).
Something happens The Unbearable Lightness of Being . The pleasure of reading is given in different sets of opposites: there is a total involvement in emotion and affection for the characters while an absolute distance between them and my own history, there is a sense of torment about my memory and my fantasies while in them a happy and satisfying feeling to be able to perceive and, are in my thoughts coming and going of light and darkness in my desires an object back and forth and spirit in my love a come and go otherness and individualism.
That must be the instability. But heck, it is more stable instability I have experienced.
the happiest.
(last time I've been thinking that there is so much to write about the joy
(And the unit, the unforgettable unit)
(health anity vanity unit)))
Today finally the beauty does not hurt. Or it does, yes, but only if that is what the game. Today finally it becomes easier reírle to misfortune (and the grace of removing of a will), know that a change of perspective heals everything.
And Milan Kundera is fun.
Hace unos años abandoné la literatura. La facultad de Letras, sí, pero también el consumo de literatura. También abandoné otros lenguajes, otro tipo de actos como la carretera o el jazz a oscuras, el intercambio de libros o la elaboración de textos incomprensibles, las noches de alcohol, la fotografía contrastada, el montaje en mi escritura, como si con todas esas renuncias buscara cifrar una conquista, algo así como si un músico de blues, harto de tanta melancolía, comenzara de pronto a dedicarse a la jardinería.
No es la primera vez que la renuncia serves as a purge. Something
between such nostalgia and therefore void. Something
abrasive, somewhat hazy, something.
light was not what those lights, it was.
not in those close encounters, no.
Beauty is a partner, has said many times.
And not have to hurt shit, is beauty.
But how to understand, who helps us in this endeavor haunting beauty? It is easier to deal with drugs, it is easier to deal with abusers. Focus
heaven. Focusing on the first glance. Conquered in the disaster mental noise.
In love of fiction. Losing
age with ease.
Knowing how to talk about anything.
There is a certain beauty that brings us to the abyss, not dark, underground party should be prevented. Another beauty leads to desire. Another romance between strangers. Another change in the bud.
There is some noble beauty also returning to the experience of existence.
But none of these beauties have clear ways or methods, rather it is the individual who executes them one way or another. That's where the inexperience we fuck. That's where learning becomes dimension.
I was sick of empty without substance. There's nothing chaotic the gap substantiated that more than a mathematician fascinated. I rather live the quiet vacuum, vacuum inoperative, like having the universe and not knowing how to navigate it (NASA, if it exists for the purposes that we have said, be stuck in this error of perspective all life is not easy, instead of wanting to move tons of technology and chemical processes / astrophysicists roads not fit for it, adapt the object to move to the properties of the road? a technology of thought, shit starts to develop when ?) And coincidentally, at the storm drain, this novel-publishing success I'm sure I gave as I give today, despite having at that time with the "burden" necessary, or rather, heaviness necessary (though, as the same book raises, light perception, "light", the existence "His hand-reading and no guarantee of delivery). Today
rather believe that there is a game in all this that I am. Suddenly you can be loud distortion that harmonized climax comes as a minute 7, Starla (side-B of the Smashing legendary) but if my daughter comes to ask me something, I put pause and serve, and then I go back to ataraxia of James Iha and company (the pause is then total and in all directions).
Something happens The Unbearable Lightness of Being . The pleasure of reading is given in different sets of opposites: there is a total involvement in emotion and affection for the characters while an absolute distance between them and my own history, there is a sense of torment about my memory and my fantasies while in them a happy and satisfying feeling to be able to perceive and, are in my thoughts coming and going of light and darkness in my desires an object back and forth and spirit in my love a come and go otherness and individualism.
That must be the instability. But heck, it is more stable instability I have experienced.
the happiest.
(last time I've been thinking that there is so much to write about the joy
(And the unit, the unforgettable unit)
(health anity vanity unit)))
Today finally the beauty does not hurt. Or it does, yes, but only if that is what the game. Today finally it becomes easier reírle to misfortune (and the grace of removing of a will), know that a change of perspective heals everything.
And Milan Kundera is fun.
