Encontrado en un post-it en la bota de la Infanta María Carolina el 1º de marzo del 2012:
Hola día-diferencia.
Hola bisiesto dragón.
¿...festejamos como nunca antes?
Por ahí ni tengo razón.
2012/02/28
Cortazeando
A veces estoy así sentada nomás, y percibo como un soplo de conciencia, los bordes de algo que está pasando tipo en otra dimensión.
Como si por equivocación me adelantara al siguiente truco del mago, y supiera lo que está a punto de hacer suceder. No es abarcante como el corrimiento del telón en el capítulo 84 de Rayuela, que viene inevitablemente golpeando a la memoria y me parece ahora a mí que es más grave que lo que estoy tratando de describir.
Me enternece mirar al costado por un momento, sobre la pantalla, y espiar si el siguiente es el cuadrado o el palo o la L o la Z o su reverso. Otro nivel lúdico, pues.
Como si por equivocación me adelantara al siguiente truco del mago, y supiera lo que está a punto de hacer suceder. No es abarcante como el corrimiento del telón en el capítulo 84 de Rayuela, que viene inevitablemente golpeando a la memoria y me parece ahora a mí que es más grave que lo que estoy tratando de describir.
Me enternece mirar al costado por un momento, sobre la pantalla, y espiar si el siguiente es el cuadrado o el palo o la L o la Z o su reverso. Otro nivel lúdico, pues.
2012/02/23
Lily and the Mirror I
¨Something weird just happened in the bathroom,¨
¨What, Baby.¨ Charlie lay sprawled on the bed reading an issue of some obscure comic, and his eyebrow lifted imperceptibly.
¨I went over there to check on myself in the big mirror, and suddenly an urge took over and I started looking for the scissors. I knew that I had to stop fooling around with these ridiculously inadequate bangs and cut them properly. And suddenly, the scissors were doing things that I had never made them do before. It was as if I had suddenly become a hairdresser. I was having my way with those scissors the way I have it with the piano when I´m figuring out a song. I was remembering every move I saw stylists doing on my hair through the years, especially the prosperous ones if you know what I mean, the parting and the re-parting and the pins... I had only one pin, but I used it like a mini light saber. Then I washed my hair quickly with volumising shampoo, in the sink, no conditioner, held it in a towel for 10 minutes, and finally blowdried it. When I picked up the tube brush to style my bangs it was as if it were my personal weapon. With what confidence I managed it with my left hand while my right blew the moistness away and the heat gave shape to a part of me. Then I made a discreet little hairdo, and held it up like I had never held it up before, with unrefutable logic, lucid use of common sense and the laws of physics. I felt possessed, I swear. And here I am. Tell me if it´s not something. I want you to tell me what you think.¨
But only silence responded, because Charlie had fallen asleep.
¨What, Baby.¨ Charlie lay sprawled on the bed reading an issue of some obscure comic, and his eyebrow lifted imperceptibly.
¨I went over there to check on myself in the big mirror, and suddenly an urge took over and I started looking for the scissors. I knew that I had to stop fooling around with these ridiculously inadequate bangs and cut them properly. And suddenly, the scissors were doing things that I had never made them do before. It was as if I had suddenly become a hairdresser. I was having my way with those scissors the way I have it with the piano when I´m figuring out a song. I was remembering every move I saw stylists doing on my hair through the years, especially the prosperous ones if you know what I mean, the parting and the re-parting and the pins... I had only one pin, but I used it like a mini light saber. Then I washed my hair quickly with volumising shampoo, in the sink, no conditioner, held it in a towel for 10 minutes, and finally blowdried it. When I picked up the tube brush to style my bangs it was as if it were my personal weapon. With what confidence I managed it with my left hand while my right blew the moistness away and the heat gave shape to a part of me. Then I made a discreet little hairdo, and held it up like I had never held it up before, with unrefutable logic, lucid use of common sense and the laws of physics. I felt possessed, I swear. And here I am. Tell me if it´s not something. I want you to tell me what you think.¨
But only silence responded, because Charlie had fallen asleep.
2012/02/22
Projects of Virtue
Drafts of Austral sky phenomena have allowed us to capture this fragment of a public mental press release by HRH Francesca Juana I.
¨I was thinking about a tape recording of myself fooling around and singing when I was about nine, and it occurred to me that I might record my 9-yr-old Max listening to it with earphones and responding to it on a parallel track. It would then be two kids with a very strong bond exhibiting themselves creatively... What a way to remain! It´s gonna be legen-wait-for-it-dary! I know Lil Miss Cole and lots of others did it, I´m not inventing rocks. But in this day and age- ¨ (signal interrupted)
So courtesy of the future, hopefully, we will have one more recording to celebrate and wonder at.
¨I was thinking about a tape recording of myself fooling around and singing when I was about nine, and it occurred to me that I might record my 9-yr-old Max listening to it with earphones and responding to it on a parallel track. It would then be two kids with a very strong bond exhibiting themselves creatively... What a way to remain! It´s gonna be legen-wait-for-it-dary! I know Lil Miss Cole and lots of others did it, I´m not inventing rocks. But in this day and age- ¨ (signal interrupted)
So courtesy of the future, hopefully, we will have one more recording to celebrate and wonder at.
2012/02/17
Star Splinter
Lily blinked in the rays of the reflexion of the sun on the front neighbor's window exploding on the inside of her eyeglasses. A light attack from behind, she sighed.
Yet the attack of light from a star came not alone.
Neurons sparked alive and shuddering communicated in the exact combination that would elicit the thought.
She still hadn't recovered full functionality of her sight. But the words were clear in her mind.
I'll tell you what. This is what I propose.
I realize attention spans cannot be expected to be what they once were.
We've all got some kind of ADD or else we wouldn't survive.
Amen.
Yet the attack of light from a star came not alone.
Neurons sparked alive and shuddering communicated in the exact combination that would elicit the thought.
She still hadn't recovered full functionality of her sight. But the words were clear in her mind.
I'll tell you what. This is what I propose.
I realize attention spans cannot be expected to be what they once were.
We've all got some kind of ADD or else we wouldn't survive.
So I'll begin a brand of minute long songs, the MP (mini play).
I want you to hear my songs. And trust me you want to hear them too.
I give you short (time away from else), you give me full (attention throughout).
Short-4-full. Short-4-full. Till the end there is no lull.
Amen.
Telepathy
Lily looked at Charlie in the rearview mirror as he looked out to the lights up the hill.
`Besides,´ she said, ´if you want to return to an old habit, all you need to do is allot a specific time in your life for it. Like the fox and the little prince, it´s a formula that cannot fail.`
`M-hm,` he semisung. `Incredible how life changes your schedule and you lose things just because they get lost in the schedule, become more and more ambiguous and dispendable...`
Lily´s thoughts immediately rested upon her fingers resting upon the piano.
`Besides,´ she said, ´if you want to return to an old habit, all you need to do is allot a specific time in your life for it. Like the fox and the little prince, it´s a formula that cannot fail.`
`M-hm,` he semisung. `Incredible how life changes your schedule and you lose things just because they get lost in the schedule, become more and more ambiguous and dispendable...`
Lily´s thoughts immediately rested upon her fingers resting upon the piano.
Stop resting.
Stop stopping.
Oh Lily.
2012/02/11
Dadaism
At the risk of seeming more stupid than I hope to be I´d like to comment that I´ve been taking a fancy for TV series in the last years, and that I´m more and more aware that each series has its own particular brand of laughter. Desperate Housewives - Grey´s Anatomy - Californication - Lie to Me - Dr. House - Modern Family - The It Crowd - Blackadder - Little Britain - How I Met Your Mother...
I need to record myself and analyse the dada.
I need to record myself and analyse the dada.
2012/02/09
How I Met Your Meyer
Feigning to see a glimpse of her reflexion on the monitor, Lily cuddled the tachicardia in her chest.
There it was, her eye looking at her among the o´s of google.
There it was, her eye looking at her among the o´s of google.
2012/02/02
Lily and the Block
Lily was sitting there, thinking about it.
Never like in this time, she´d find herself staring at the clock 8 minutes after her last memory was the exact same moment 8 minutes before.
How can blockage be so beautiful, though, she thought, as if she were musing over a very intricate yet perfect snowflake snuggled in her palm, melting.
Never like in this time, she´d find herself staring at the clock 8 minutes after her last memory was the exact same moment 8 minutes before.
How can blockage be so beautiful, though, she thought, as if she were musing over a very intricate yet perfect snowflake snuggled in her palm, melting.
2012/01/19
Importance of feeling important
¨Between 8 and 10, I began to think that what I had to say was actually important. We are talking world savior style, of course. By 21 I kept little notebooks with brilliant little musings, all lost now, of course.
But maybe what I had to say actually was important. As long as I still feel this, I can still make my curtain call, wouldn't you agree?¨
¨M-hm.¨
¨You're not listening to me, are you?¨
¨What's your problem, Lily? Can't you see I'm busy here?¨
Of Course.
But maybe what I had to say actually was important. As long as I still feel this, I can still make my curtain call, wouldn't you agree?¨
¨M-hm.¨
¨You're not listening to me, are you?¨
¨What's your problem, Lily? Can't you see I'm busy here?¨
Of Course.
2012/01/09
A New House to Build
strange it seemed and strange it was
but something had suddenly changed the stats:
bye, future projections of misery,´ she was writing,
and then wondered why she was so reluctant to admit
that she finally saw her life approaching the end of
lateral drifting.
but something had suddenly changed the stats:
bye, future projections of misery,´ she was writing,
and then wondered why she was so reluctant to admit
that she finally saw her life approaching the end of
lateral drifting.
2011/12/31
June
*To the soon to be memory of 2011
and the times it crowned
and the times it crowned
If you leave me now
there will be no sorry, Charlie
cause the tables have turned
and you´re down and you´re out
from my life
shame on you in spite
of all the unusual moments
oh the joy that you gave
why did you have to turn it down down down down down
soon all this will be through
pack up all of your bags
and hit the cosmic road
so long.... my... friend...
Sideral
En la bruma perlada de cada mañana
Difícil es ver algún porvenir;
Nos movemos inciertos, la noche lejana,
Pues ya su escondijo no puede servir.
Pero pasan las horas adentro del alma,
Y vemos maneras de vernos surgir;
Nuestros pasos se nutren, se unen las palmas,
Y fortalecidos, no cuesta servir.
La tarde se expande, radiante y osada,
Un vago recuerdo la duda de ayer;
Corremos cegados, por sueños de nada,
La sangre nos hierve, ¡hay tanto que hacer!
Y así nos sorprende la noche estrellada,
La sombra reluce su capa de añil:
Ya es tarde, lo siento, nos dice su espada,
Lo hecho está hecho, y ahora, a morir.
Difícil es ver algún porvenir;
Nos movemos inciertos, la noche lejana,
Pues ya su escondijo no puede servir.
Pero pasan las horas adentro del alma,
Y vemos maneras de vernos surgir;
Nuestros pasos se nutren, se unen las palmas,
Y fortalecidos, no cuesta servir.
La tarde se expande, radiante y osada,
Un vago recuerdo la duda de ayer;
Corremos cegados, por sueños de nada,
La sangre nos hierve, ¡hay tanto que hacer!
Y así nos sorprende la noche estrellada,
La sombra reluce su capa de añil:
Ya es tarde, lo siento, nos dice su espada,
Lo hecho está hecho, y ahora, a morir.
2011/12/11
Sobre Titulina
Titulina nació el 11 de marzo del 2010 en condiciones de grave prematuridad. Pesaba 1.100 g y estaba en la semana 29 de las 40 de gestación. Si no se actuaba como se actuó en ese momento, Titulina y yo, ambas o cualquiera de las dos, podíamos perder la vida debido a una preeclampsia aguda. Fue un éxito. Titulina NACIO, viva, sana, embolada por ser arrancada de su mamá, y muy chiquita. Fue llevada de urgencia al Materno Infantil de Trinidad donde sus signos vitales, que eran buenos aunque con grandes interrogantes, fueron monitorados en la terapia intensiva neonatal (tin).
No necesitó respirador, comía abundantemente y todo seguía creciendo dentro de los parámetros normales pese al trauma de haber nacido tan temprano. Cuando me recuperé lo suficiente como para ser dada de alta (agonía de 10 días sin poder a ver a mi hija, mientras la presión seguía en el cielo en ese cuarto de la Cruz Roja), me reuní con Max y la Titulina y no me despegué de ese hospital de Trinidad....por...sesenta y cuatro días. El 25 de marzo (día 14 de vida de Titulina) los doctores de la sala deciden que Titulina está bien fuera del peligro inmediato y la transfieren a una incubadora que había recién sido desocupada en la terapia intermedia (possibly due to the death by infection of the previous occupier). Y sí: esa misma noche, a Titulina le sube la fiebre, convulsiona, y sufre una hemorragia en el ventrículo derecho del cerebro. Se había contagiado de una infección hospitalaria.
La hemorragia se detiene y es absorbida por su cuerpo en menos de una semana, la infección es vencida con antibioticos, y el desarrollo de la Titulina continua. En los meses sucesivos, Benedetta supera también una intervención al ojo derecho con terapia laser para parar y reparar la retinopatia del prematuro (rop) que había sido producto del exceso de oxígeno de las incubadoras (aparte que fueron dos meses y pico expuesta al oxígeno, cosa que inevitablemente acarrea consecuencias a nivel de la vista). Las visitas neurológicas en Asunción apuntan a la necesidad de profundizar el estudio del posible daño causado por la hemorragia.
Así, apenas llegamos a Florencia, la inscribí en el sistema de salud italiano y la hice ver por una eminencia de la neurología, que me la insertó completamente gratis en el engranaje del hospital pediátrico Meyer, en el departamento neurológico, justamente una de las áreas por las que ese hospital tiene fama planetaria, para hacerse todos los estudios. Fue en el arco de esos tantos electroencefalogramas y resonancias magnéticas que descubrimos que una de las consecuencias de la hemorragia había sido una epilepsia y uno de los ventrículos del cerebro tapados impidiendo la circulación del liquido cerebral. En los meses Benedetta había acumulado un hidrocéfalo preocupante, que amenazaba con cortarle la vista y hasta matarla, sin hablar del daño que ya había causado dejando sin espacio de desarrollo al cerebro. No se notaba porque había ocurrido después del nacimiento, cuando el cráneo de Bene ya estaba lo suficientemente duro como para no deformarse para nada. Entre mayo y noviembre se controló de la mejor manera posible con fármacos la forma epiléptica que ella sufre, que en esa etapa se manifestaba con un sobresalto cada pocos segundos, como si le corriera electricidad, ocurriendo en clusters de varios sobresaltos, especialmente cuando recién se despertaba o cuando trataba de agarrar cualquier cosa). En noviembre se aprobó la cirugía para ´destapar´ el ventrículo que estaba impidiendo la circulación del líquido cerebral de su cabecita. La intervención se llama tercerventriculocisternostomía.
Inutil es tratar de describir la angustia que se siente como padres ante tanta impotencia, tanto ´destino´, tantas variables sin respuesta a la vista. Vagábamos por los jardines del hospital las tres horas de la operación sintiendo que se detuvo el tiempo y que el hacha se balanceaba detrás de las nubes. Entendía amargamente la agonía de mi hermano y mi cuñada hacía tan poco tiempo, cuando la vida de su tesoro pendía de las manos de los doctores.
A pocos días de habernos dado de alta, Francesco y yo comenzamos a ver los efectos positivos de la operación al cerebro que le hicieron a nuestra hija. Vinieron de a cuentagotas, porque la situación de los ventrículos era, y probablemente seguirá siendo, crítica. Pero vinieron: pequeñísimos pero milagrosísimos progresos. ¡¡¡Titulinaaaaaaaaaaaa!!! De mi parte la misión es toda la estimulacion, terapia musical, visual y corporal que me sea posible. ¿Qué más quiero? A mi lado un ser hermosísimo y sagrado, la fuente de gran parte de mi asombro, que depende alma y cuerpo de mí. ¡¡¡¡He aquí la misión más importante de mi vida!!!! El sistema de salud italiano no solo nos concedió cobertura total de todos los tratamientos, visitas, y la delicada operación, sino que refuerza el proceso con un equipo de fisioterapeutas y ortopédicos increíble, con el cual hay diálogo y un claro sentido de evolución, una sensación de que si descubrimos cómo, todo es posible, para que la Titulina vaya aprendiendo a sentarse y pararse, y relacionarse con los objetos, interactuar mejor con otros, y ojalá un día también a caminar y hablar...y cantar... y bailar, como me prometió una incauta enfermera del materno infantil en el 2010, sin imaginarse lo que ocurría debajo de esos cabellitos... Es por todo ésto que sabía que tenía "sí o sí" que volver a Italia. Y estoy una vez más sintiendo el alivio de haber encontrado la serenidad necesaria para tomar muchas decisiones acertadas, por más que no había cortes limpios, y en todos lados sentía dolor.
Soltando recién ahora un poco la respiración, pido disculpas por el largo tiempo que me tomó compartir todo esto... y no, no hablo de la condición de Benedetta en otros medios sociales... pero mantendré al día personalmente a quien tenga interés por saber como nos va. Las vías del Señor son, después de todo, infinitas.
ANGUISHES/SEASONAL AFFECTIVE DISORDER - S.A.D.
The Clinicalz
Anguishes Ouverture by Francesco Trinipet
S.A.D. Music by Fran Bellucci
Words by Francesco Trinipet and Fran Bellucci
Oh, let's get to the core
before my time runs out and
symptoms of a classic S.A.D. return
you said our lives were quite bizarre
and that awaking demon stars
would never yield a positive result
What season spares
young lovers and their flares?
May swinging moods
carry us flying through!
Whatever Daisy can adore
I'll get and bring right to her door
Pretending to deserve a little more...
Uncompromisingly charmant
while craving sweets i start to chant
a tune of classic (y)early winter S.A.D.
What season spares
young lovers and their flares?
no reasons reach
the shores of Daisy's Beach
You woke my biophiliac nerve
made me flirtatious
so a dirty flamboyance
could take control of me
Even a sunset just for two
before the lazy colors flew
could come to poison hearts in rising pulse
What season spares
young lovers and their flares?
May swinging moods
carry us to the moon
What season spares
young lovers and their flares?
No reasons reach
the shores of Daisy's Beach...
2011/10/06
And all this time the river flows...
I was born and raised in a river culture, and from 1978 to 1983 watched Dunderklumpen on a weekly basis.
Post Data:
A river whisks you away
to unknown places surreal
It´s just a dream but so real
Your dream so you´re the bereaved!
Post Data:
A river whisks you away
to unknown places surreal
It´s just a dream but so real
Your dream so you´re the bereaved!
2011/10/02
My Ex-Post-Facto
Bless that old off-color publication
Bless your looks the night in question
You the impostor born elusive
And I… I was only being lucid
(Yet) I could sense your sense of suffocation
Oh shameless palace of perplexion
You were to blame for leaving
Or maybe not, cause I was leafing
You´d revamp me in the mornings
Till I played the fool one evening
You´re my ex-post-facto.
Bless your looks the night in question
You the impostor born elusive
And I… I was only being lucid
(Yet) I could sense your sense of suffocation
Oh shameless palace of perplexion
You were to blame for leaving
Or maybe not, cause I was leafing
You´d revamp me in the mornings
Till I played the fool one evening
You´re my ex-post-facto.
Drownout
all these damn calluses
in the wrong surfaces
give me the slightest of doubts
struck on a featherbed
absent and lighthearted
as I return from improbable routes
in the wrong surfaces
give me the slightest of doubts
struck on a featherbed
absent and lighthearted
as I return from improbable routes
Pas de deux
She was melancholy
He was male and colic
They would sit and bicker
Over tunes from Mellon Collie
He was male and colic
They would sit and bicker
Over tunes from Mellon Collie
Improbable Delivery
Amazing little thread that threads me
Do you know that I´m blindfolded
Pity take and pity give me
Here´s my prayer, now unfold it
Please excuse my lazy slumber
Please ignore my flightless saunter
Please believe my sorry puzzles
Please install my Amadeus
Please delay the crazy schedule
And insinuate my fortune
Do you know that I´m blindfolded
Pity take and pity give me
Here´s my prayer, now unfold it
Please excuse my lazy slumber
Please ignore my flightless saunter
Please believe my sorry puzzles
Please install my Amadeus
Please delay the crazy schedule
And insinuate my fortune
Hall Mark
She was that ancient beauty
hanging on the family wall
you´d think passing beside her
She was giving you a call
hanging on the family wall
you´d think passing beside her
She was giving you a call
No Refund
A Bm E
Exquisite aging gets forgiven every
F#
time
Dm G F#
I wish I could assure my poor soul
B
she´ll be fine…
Repeat 10 times and stop
PS special video, courtesy from the future
version of No Refund recorded feb 17th 2012
Exquisite aging gets forgiven every
F#
time
Dm G F#
I wish I could assure my poor soul
B
she´ll be fine…
Repeat 10 times and stop
PS special video, courtesy from the future
version of No Refund recorded feb 17th 2012
The Reasoning Song
Now why wouldn´t you
Wanna be like me?
I do as I do
I do as I please
I make you believe
Kind of slantwise if you will
Now why wouldn´t I
One like me wanna be
I think I can fly
No matter your tease
I bet you don´t see
How ridiculous you all are
Maybe you see through my eyes
maybe you see through my guise
maybe you see me beyond
my soon impending demise
Wanna be like me?
I do as I do
I do as I please
I make you believe
Kind of slantwise if you will
Now why wouldn´t I
One like me wanna be
I think I can fly
No matter your tease
I bet you don´t see
How ridiculous you all are
Maybe you see through my eyes
maybe you see through my guise
maybe you see me beyond
my soon impending demise
American Witness
Right up my street
Oxford Apartments 213
It´s the home of a man
I wouldn´t wanna meet
You know, sometimes I hear them bleed
You know, sometimes I hear them plead
(face it)
Right up my street
Oxford Apartments 213
It´s the home of a man
You wouldn´t wanna meet
You know, sometimes I hear them bleed
You know, sometimes I hear them plead
(for their lives)
Oxford Apartments 213
It´s the home of a man
I wouldn´t wanna meet
You know, sometimes I hear them bleed
You know, sometimes I hear them plead
(face it)
Right up my street
Oxford Apartments 213
It´s the home of a man
You wouldn´t wanna meet
You know, sometimes I hear them bleed
You know, sometimes I hear them plead
(for their lives)
Radical Subliminal
you wanna make your god a happy guy
a tiny wee euphorical
you wanna make it in a bungalow
i wish i knew what for
comical, it´s so sadical
comical subliminal
you wanna make it like a fantasy
a little unsophisticatedly
no use to make it insufficiently
(do you really need chilly nights
when you're with a maniac?)
oh do you wanna make it believable
do you really want it believable?
comical, it's so sadical
comical subliminal
a tiny wee euphorical
you wanna make it in a bungalow
i wish i knew what for
comical, it´s so sadical
comical subliminal
you wanna make it like a fantasy
a little unsophisticatedly
no use to make it insufficiently
(do you really need chilly nights
when you're with a maniac?)
oh do you wanna make it believable
do you really want it believable?
comical, it's so sadical
comical subliminal
The Poor Puss
souvenirs and attaches
who do you wanna fool
you reek of forbidden fruit
so tell me why
your love of fame
makes you so shy
hopelessly lame
you´re still the same
you´re still in pain
souvenirs
an act of faith
who do you wanna fool
you picked up the gauging tool
so tell me why
your ace of spades
makes you so shy
It´s like you fade
it´s such a shame
you´re still in pain
who do you wanna fool
you reek of forbidden fruit
so tell me why
your love of fame
makes you so shy
hopelessly lame
you´re still the same
you´re still in pain
souvenirs
an act of faith
who do you wanna fool
you picked up the gauging tool
so tell me why
your ace of spades
makes you so shy
It´s like you fade
it´s such a shame
you´re still in pain
2011/09/13
Of Youth´s Sinker Logs
I used to know things when I was 8 or 9, that I knew I would have to lose awareness of in order to become an adult.
Senseless to hope the logs of awareness would reemerge at the far pool,
yonder.
And yet, there, perhaps, they are already.
Senseless to hope the logs of awareness would reemerge at the far pool,
yonder.
And yet, there, perhaps, they are already.
2011/09/05
Lily
Lily looked out the window listfully. It was beginning to get dark and slightly fresh in the valley, and the summer promised to pick up and go elsewhere.
If I´m a songwriter, why is it so hard for me to publish my songs? Do I have to admit that I´m a dysfunctional composer? Well, I am.
Lily kept losing herself in eternal variations: the sincerity of alternative options had become an enemy for her decades ago. And when she slipped into certain chord progressions which would better be described as trapdoors, the drive went from positive to negative and she´d stop playing altogether.
Lily cringed recalling that sullen, all too familiar reaching-for-the-power-button-moment which recurred too often... could it be that hidden forces were conspiring against her with her own creepy unbeknownst aid?
Maybe a cigarette...
And who ever guaranteed that, if you´re lucky or unlucky enough to have one, your vocation will be fully functional? Having a vocation is only that: an inner calling. There's a number of choices that don't quite come through but don't violate the clause of responsibility towards a patriotic or spiritual mission either. You can pretend you don´t hear, or answer with complying sweetness and then do as you please, or act like a fucked-up teenager, or be authentically docile...But nothing you do is guaranteed to work. Even with the most perfect machines, the result is the result... of much else.
No, a vocation is no guarantee of functionality. Maybe for some it´s more like a steaming pizza right on the other side of a 7-foot-tall, 7500-volt electric fence...
Lily had stopped counting the total songs she had almost fully composed, a while ago. Far from being a source of pride, this futile attempt at feeling historically productive only added to the anguish. The thing that stumped her the most was how, while the self consuming star of a song was irradiating its light, coming into being, sometimes for a few minutes and sometimes for days or weeks, her energy had no end, and she was in love with the song, in another dimension, let´s tritely say. And then, after a while and due to partly unknown factors, she usually couldn´t listen past the 20th second, as if the song had let her down. There had to be something she was missing. It was a depression, it was the classic STEOS moment (Skip To End Of Song)... It was Judas and Christ at the end of time... and then, not happy with that either, even if who would be, give me a break, after a while it was sometimes all wonderful again, and ooh! and hey I'm a frikkin genius and shiiiiat what a brains and sensitivity I carry... to the point of song completion! What the hell?
Oh Lily, Lily thought.
Oh Lily.
If I´m a songwriter, why is it so hard for me to publish my songs? Do I have to admit that I´m a dysfunctional composer? Well, I am.
Lily kept losing herself in eternal variations: the sincerity of alternative options had become an enemy for her decades ago. And when she slipped into certain chord progressions which would better be described as trapdoors, the drive went from positive to negative and she´d stop playing altogether.
Lily cringed recalling that sullen, all too familiar reaching-for-the-power-button-moment which recurred too often... could it be that hidden forces were conspiring against her with her own creepy unbeknownst aid?
Maybe a cigarette...
And who ever guaranteed that, if you´re lucky or unlucky enough to have one, your vocation will be fully functional? Having a vocation is only that: an inner calling. There's a number of choices that don't quite come through but don't violate the clause of responsibility towards a patriotic or spiritual mission either. You can pretend you don´t hear, or answer with complying sweetness and then do as you please, or act like a fucked-up teenager, or be authentically docile...But nothing you do is guaranteed to work. Even with the most perfect machines, the result is the result... of much else.
No, a vocation is no guarantee of functionality. Maybe for some it´s more like a steaming pizza right on the other side of a 7-foot-tall, 7500-volt electric fence...
Lily had stopped counting the total songs she had almost fully composed, a while ago. Far from being a source of pride, this futile attempt at feeling historically productive only added to the anguish. The thing that stumped her the most was how, while the self consuming star of a song was irradiating its light, coming into being, sometimes for a few minutes and sometimes for days or weeks, her energy had no end, and she was in love with the song, in another dimension, let´s tritely say. And then, after a while and due to partly unknown factors, she usually couldn´t listen past the 20th second, as if the song had let her down. There had to be something she was missing. It was a depression, it was the classic STEOS moment (Skip To End Of Song)... It was Judas and Christ at the end of time... and then, not happy with that either, even if who would be, give me a break, after a while it was sometimes all wonderful again, and ooh! and hey I'm a frikkin genius and shiiiiat what a brains and sensitivity I carry... to the point of song completion! What the hell?
Oh Lily, Lily thought.
Oh Lily.
Iscriviti a:
Post (Atom)