Sunday, September 11, 2016
J.L.Borges, Borges and I, quote
Jorge Luis Borges, quoted from "Borges and I"
"The other one, the one called Borges, is the one things happen to. I walk through the streets of Buenos Aires and stop for a moment, perhaps mechanically now, to look at the arch of an entrance hall and the grillwork on the gate; I know of Borges from the mail and see his name on a list of professors or in a biographical dictionary. I like hourglasses, maps, eighteenth-century typography, the taste of coffee and the prose of Stevenson; he shares these preferences, but in a vain way that turns them into the attributes of an actor. It would be an exaggeration to say that ours is a hostile relationship; I live, let myself go on living, so that Borges may contrive his literature, and this literature justifies me. It is no effort for me to confess that he has achieved some valid pages, but those pages cannot save me, perhaps because what is good belongs to no one, not even to him, but rather to the language and to tradition. Besides, I am destined to perish, definitively, and only some instant of myself can survive in him. Little by little, I am giving over everything to him, though I am quite aware of his perverse custom of falsifying and magnifying things. Spinoza knew that all things long to persist in their being; the stone eternally wants to be a stone and the tiger a tiger. I shall remain in Borges, not in myself (if it is true that I am someone), but I recognize myself less in his books than in many others or in the laborious strumming of a guitar. Years ago I tried to free myself from him and went from the mythologies of the suburbs to the games with time and infinity, but those games belong to Borges now and I shall have to imagine other things. Thus my life is a flight and I lose everything and everything belongs to oblivion, or to him.
I do not know which of us has written this page."
note:
i start more and more to feel like this these days.
I have no specific desire to live these days, if it wasn't for the joy of my horse,
writing poems without wanting to do so and a remaining deep curiosity
mixed with a glass of good wine in the evenings and coffee in the mornings
and as many cigarettes as i care for to smoke
i might just go.
As nobody can lose what he has not, there is nothing to lose for anybody.
As nobody can lose what he has not, there is nothing to lose for anybody.
King Crimson-Three Of A Perfect Pair (Absent Lovers Live)
She is susceptible
He is impossible
They have their cross to share
Three of a perfect pair
He has his contradicting views
She has her cyclothymic moods
They make a study in despair
Three of a perfect pair
He is impossible
They have their cross to share
Three of a perfect pair
He has his contradicting views
She has her cyclothymic moods
They make a study in despair
Three of a perfect pair
One, one too many
Schizophrenic tendencies
Keeps it complicated
Keeps it aggravated
And full of this hopelessness
What a perfect mess
Schizophrenic tendencies
Keeps it complicated
Keeps it aggravated
And full of this hopelessness
What a perfect mess
on madness
sick people
must not be mad,
and the mad
must not be sick
madness
rules day for day,
it is the precious
core of being human
in all madness
is immense space,
life fighting ideas
and prisons
in all craziness
is the nucleus
of rebellion and growth,
the hidden revolution
of human souls,
maimed, crippled,
suffering and fighting
for freedom
and even sickness
can be a path for evolution,
and even if healthy
we all will die.
more is not to say,
madness has a way
and sickness has its time,
in between we can sing,
walk, love, be, see.
all is life,
fragile, complex
and unfathomable.
must not be mad,
and the mad
must not be sick
madness
rules day for day,
it is the precious
core of being human
in all madness
is immense space,
life fighting ideas
and prisons
in all craziness
is the nucleus
of rebellion and growth,
the hidden revolution
of human souls,
maimed, crippled,
suffering and fighting
for freedom
and even sickness
can be a path for evolution,
and even if healthy
we all will die.
more is not to say,
madness has a way
and sickness has its time,
in between we can sing,
walk, love, be, see.
all is life,
fragile, complex
and unfathomable.
parallel realities: the net which eats all
no tree
is the same
for another one,
all changes
with each I.
parallel reality
is not proximity
but can meet
in the infinite space
between two humans,
only now and here,
not in artificial presence
where we appear
available without limit.
we write and sign *
and don't understand.
because in this, here,
we cannot listen,
we cannot trust,
we think and babble
and just go on
transmitting Braille
into a net
which eats all.
when we meet
we become touchable,
we can listen
or we can escape
but see what we do.
because what we do
connects and separates
more than any signal.
is the same
for another one,
all changes
with each I.
parallel reality
is not proximity
but can meet
in the infinite space
between two humans,
only now and here,
not in artificial presence
where we appear
available without limit.
we write and sign *
and don't understand.
because in this, here,
we cannot listen,
we cannot trust,
we think and babble
and just go on
transmitting Braille
into a net
which eats all.
when we meet
we become touchable,
we can listen
or we can escape
but see what we do.
because what we do
connects and separates
more than any signal.
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