jueves, 30 de abril de 2009
martes, 21 de abril de 2009
lunes, 20 de abril de 2009
domingo, 19 de abril de 2009
Roth's The Counterlife
"One had to wonder if Shimmy's stupidity wasn't something of an asset; watching him one wondered if in fact the passion to live and the strength to prevail might not be, at their core, quite stupid.
"They had absolutely no wisdom; wholly self-saturated, entirely self-oblivious, they had nothing to go on but the most elemental manhood, yet on that alone they came pretty damn far. They too had tragic experiences and suffered loses they were by no means too brutish to feel: being bludgeoned almost to death was as much their specialty as the bludgeoning. The point was that pain and suffering did not deter them for half an hour from their intention of living. Their lack of all nuance or doubt, of an ordinary mortal's sense of futility or despair, made it tempting sometimes to consider them inhuman, and yet they were men about whom it was impossible to say that they were anything other than human: they were what human really is. While his own father aspired relentlessly to embody the best in mankind, these Shimmys were simply the backbone of the human race."
"They had absolutely no wisdom; wholly self-saturated, entirely self-oblivious, they had nothing to go on but the most elemental manhood, yet on that alone they came pretty damn far. They too had tragic experiences and suffered loses they were by no means too brutish to feel: being bludgeoned almost to death was as much their specialty as the bludgeoning. The point was that pain and suffering did not deter them for half an hour from their intention of living. Their lack of all nuance or doubt, of an ordinary mortal's sense of futility or despair, made it tempting sometimes to consider them inhuman, and yet they were men about whom it was impossible to say that they were anything other than human: they were what human really is. While his own father aspired relentlessly to embody the best in mankind, these Shimmys were simply the backbone of the human race."
La Guitarra
Empieza el llanto
de la guitarra.
Se rompen las copas
de la madrugada.
Empieza el llanto
de la guitarra.
Es inútil callarla.
Es imposible
callarla.
Llora monótona
como llora el agua,
como llora el viento
sobre la nevada
Es imposible callarla,
Llora por las cosas
lejanas.
Arena del Sur caliente
que pide camelias blancas.
Llora flecha sin blanco,
la tarde sin mañana,
y el primer pájaro muerto
sobre la rama
¡Oh guitarra!
Corazón malherido
por cinco espadas.
de la guitarra.
Se rompen las copas
de la madrugada.
Empieza el llanto
de la guitarra.
Es inútil callarla.
Es imposible
callarla.
Llora monótona
como llora el agua,
como llora el viento
sobre la nevada
Es imposible callarla,
Llora por las cosas
lejanas.
Arena del Sur caliente
que pide camelias blancas.
Llora flecha sin blanco,
la tarde sin mañana,
y el primer pájaro muerto
sobre la rama
¡Oh guitarra!
Corazón malherido
por cinco espadas.
-- Federico García Lorca
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- J. J. Jimenez
- Gainesville, FL, United States
- Juliana Jiménez was born in Santa Fe de Bogotá, Colombia. She lived there for 13 years before moving to the U.S., on the 10 am flight on June 20th, 2000. Now she is a Journalism (and Frustrated English) Major and Chinese Minor; a Junior, and anxious about it. She speaks Spanish 89% of her time, English 9% and Chinese 2%. Spanish at home, on the phone, in between classes, in writing, in love. English for Academia and renewing car insurance. Chinese only for text-messages with her Colombian-American-Chinese-Swiss older sister and with her Colombian-American-French-Chinese boyfriend. She lived in Beijing, China for a total of 11 months before she was back-stabbed by the Chinese government.
