The incomparable.


In one form or another, angels appear in most of the major religions as intermediaries between god and humans. They are invisible or semi invisible beings who act as guides to the soul, helping it grow and evolve. They are also believed to organize the universe at it's very foundations, keeping the planets on course, and controlling the growth of life on earth.

Bar 89, 89 Mercer Street.


When we first met.

You are my sweetest downfall,
I loved you first, I loved you first.
Beneath the sheets of paper lies my truth,
I have to go, I have to go.
Your hair was long when we first met.

Regina Spektor, Samson.

Harold wristwatch.

This is a story about a man named Harold Crick and his wristwatch. Harold Crick was a man of infinite numbers, endless calculations, and remarkably few words. And his wristwatch said even less. Every weekday, for twelve years, Harold would brush each of his thirty-two teeth seventy-six times. Thirty-eight times back and forth, thirty-eight times up and down. Every weekday, for twelve years, Harold would tie his tie in a single Windsor knot instead of the double, thereby saving up to forty-three seconds. His wristwatch thought the single Windsor made his neck look fat, but said nothing. Every weekday, for twelve years, Harold would run at a rate of nearly 57 steps per block for six blocks, bearly catching de 817 Kronecker bus. His wristwatch would delight in the feeling of the crisp wind rushing over its face. And every weekday for twelve years, Harold would review seven point one three four tax files, as a senior auditor for the Internal Revenue Service, only taking a forty five point seven minute lunchbreak, and a four point three minute coffee break, timed precisely by his wristwatch. Beyond that, Harold lived a life of solitude. Harold would walk home alone. He would eat alone. And precisely eleven thirteen every night Harold would go to bed alone, placing his wristwatch to rest on the nightstand beside him. That was, of course, before Wednesday. On Wednesday, Harold's wristwatch, changed everything.

Stranger than Fiction (2006), Marc Foster.

Hell's Kitchen.

You want a Rolls-Royce, you don't come here, no no. You go to England, or wherever the fuck they make it. If you want champagne, you go see the French. If you need money, you find a Jew. But, if you want dirt, or scum buried under a rock somewhere, or some secret nobody wants anybody to know about, there's only one place to go: right here, Hell's Kitchen. It is the lost and found of shit. They lose it and we find it.

Sleepers (1996), Barry Levinson.

Bavarian sugar cookies.

As Harold took a bite of Bavarian sugar cookie, he finally felt as if everything was going to be ok. Sometimes, when we lose ourselves in fear and despair, in routine and constancy, in hopelessness and tragedy, we can thank God for Bavarian sugar cookies. And, fortunately, when there aren't any cookies, we can still find reassurance in a familiar hand on our skin, or a kind and loving gesture, or subtle encouragement, or a loving embrace, or an offer of comfort, not to mention hospital gurneys and nose plugs, an uneaten Danish, soft-spoken secrets, and Fender Stratocasters, and maybe the occasional piece of fiction. And we must remember that all these things, the nuances, the anomalies, the subtleties, which we assume only accessorize our days, are effective for a much larger and nobler cause. They are here to save our lives. I know the idea seems strange, but I also know that it just so happens to be true. And, so it was, a wristwatch saved Harold Crick.

Stranger than fiction, Marc Forster (2006)


Jonathan Trager, prominent television producer for ESPN, died last night from complications of losing his soul mate and his fiancee. He was 35 years old. Soft-spoken and obsessive, Trager never looked the part of a hopeless romantic. But, in the final days of his life, he revealed an unknown side of his psyche. This hidden quasi-Jungian persona surfaced during the Agatha Christie-like pursuit of his long reputed soul mate, a woman whom he only spent a few precious hours with. Sadly, the protracted search ended late Saturday night in complete and utter failure. Yet even in certain defeat, the courageous Trager secretly clung to the belief that life is not merely a series of meaningless accidents or coincidences. Uh-uh. But rather, its a tapestry of events that culminate in an exquisite, sublime plan. Asked about the loss of his dear friend, Dean Kansky, the Pulitzer Prize-winning author and executive editor of the New York Times, described Jonathan as a changed man in the last days of his life. "Things were clearer for him," Kansky noted. Ultimately Jonathan concluded that if we are to live life in harmony with the universe, we must all possess a powerful faith in what the ancients used to call "fatum", what we currently refer to as destiny.

Serendipity (2001).


Growing up

Refusing to grow up is like refusing to accept your limitations.
That's why I don't think we'll ever grow up.

Robert Smith.


But I think depression is different to melancholy. Depression is a clinical condition. Melancholy comes about through self-reflection. And it’s not necessarily a bad thing to be melancholic, to look at your life, to look at your world and there’s a beatiful sadness about it, to which I respond to.

Sting, The Journey and the Labyrinth.



I want you to get into the deep beautiful melancholy of everything that's happened.

Elizabethtown, Cameron Crowe (2005).


Michael Squints Palledorous walked a little taller that day. And we had to tip our hats to him. He was lucky she hadn't beat the CRAP out of him. We wouldn't have blamed her. What he'd done was sneaky, rotten, and low... and cool. Not another one among us would have ever in a million years even for a million dollars have the guts to put the moves on the lifeguard. He did. He had kissed a woman. And he had kissed her long and good. We got banned from the pool forever that day. But every time we walked by after that, the lifeguard looked down from her tower, right over at Squints, and smiled.

The Sandlot (1993).



Have you ever crossed the road, and looked the wrong way? A car's nearly on you? So what do you do? Something very silly. You freeze. Your life doesn't flash before you, 'cause you're too fuckin' scared to think - you just freeze and pull a stupid face. But the pikey didn't. Why? Because he had plans of running the car over.

Snatch, Guy Ritchie (1998).



"La simplicidad es la sofisticación definitiva".

Leonardo Da Vinci.

PD: El tipo era claramente un adelantado en todo.


The answer to life, the universe and everything.

- We must know it! Now!
- Now? -inquired Deep Thought.
- Yes! Now...
- Alright -said the computer and settled into the silence again. The two men fidgeted. The tension was unbearable.
- You're really not going to like it -observed Deep Thought.
- Tell us!
- Alright, -said Deep Thought- the Answer to the Great Question ...
- Yes!
- Of Life, the Universe and Everything...-said Deep Thought.
- Yes...!
- Is...-said Deep Thought and paused.
- Yes...!
- Is...
- Yes...!!!...?
- Forty two -said Deep Thought, with infinite majesty and calm.

The Hitchhikers's Guide to the Galaxy, Douglas Adams.


As you are driving me home.

I roll the window down and then begin to breathe in the darkest country road and the strong scent of evergreen from the passenger seat as you are driving me home.

Then looking upwards I strain my eyes and try to tell the difference between shooting stars and satellites from the passenger seat as you are driving me home.

Passenger Seat, Transatlanticism, Death Cab for Cutie.


Atlantic City

Lucas! Hey, Lucas? Hey, Lucas? What the hell you doing here, man?

Something happened to me last night. In Atlantic City.

Oh, you went to Atlantic City?

Wow ... did you win anything?

No. I did not win. So if you guys ever wonder if it was nice to know you, I tell you now that it was.

Shit, man. What happened? What happened?

I do not regret the things that I have done but those I did not do.

Empire Records, Allan Moyle, 1995.


Ezekiel 25:17

You read the Bible?
There's a passage I got memorized. Ezekiel 25:17.
"The path of the righteous man is beset on all sides
by the inequities of the selfish and the tyranny of evil men.
Blessed is he who, in the name of charity and good will,
shepherds the weak through the valley of the darkness.
For he is truly his brother's keeper
and the finder of lost children.

And I will strike down upon thee
with great vengeance and furious anger
those who attempt to poison and destroy my brothers.
And you will know I am the Lord
when I lay my vengeance upon you."
I been sayin' that shit for years.
And if you ever heard it, it meant your ass.
I never really questioned what it meant.
I thought it was just a coldblooded thing
to say to a motherfucker
'fore you popped a cap in his ass.
But I saw some shit this mornin' made me think twice.
Now I'm thinkin', it could mean you're the evil man.
And I'm the righteous man.
And Mr. .45 here, he's the shepherd
protecting my righteous ass
in the valley of darkness.
Or it could by you're the righteous man
and I'm the shepherd
and it's the world that's evil and selfish.
I'dlike that.
But that shit ain't the truth.
The truth is you're the weak.
And I'm the tyranny of evil men.
But I'm tryin'. I'm tryin' real hard to be a shepherd.

Pulp Fiction, Quentin Tarantino, 1994.


La entrada número 100

La de hoy es la entrada número 100 de este Blog que inicié hace casi un año. Y como comenté alguna vez, allá por la entrada 20, aquella que daba comienzo a la serie de posteos del libro High Fidelity, este blog no fue creado para los demás, sino para mí, y que por eso no iba a escribir yo, ya que poco me interesa leerme a mí mismo. Sin embargo, debo admitir que hay gente que lo lee. Y también debo admitir que me gusta que lo lean. Y si bien aquella vez aclaré que nunca iba a postear algo que yo escribiera, hoy voy a romper esa regla. Sólo por ser la entrada número 100.

Lo que van a leer es uno de los pocos (por no decir únicos) textos que me gustan a pesar de haber sido yo el autor. El encargo fue realizar un mural, y la idea consistia en, a partir de plasmar el siguiente texto en el mismo, tomar parte de una eterna lucha que se disputa oculta a nuestros ojos y que podrán descubrir a continuación. Espero que les guste.

Mientras deambulamos por la ciudad,
sin más preocupaciones que las propias,
una batalla se libra invisible a nuestros ojos.
Es ése enfrentamiento que noche a noche y día a día
libran dos bandos
separados por diferencias irreconciliables,
enemigos acérrimos hasta la muerte:
las despreciables paredes que escuchan,
y las maravillosas paredes que tienen mucho por decir.
Los hombres, ignorantes a esta disputa,
vamos sin embargo decidiendo la batalla
cada vez que decidimos o no intervenir alguna de ellas.
Nosotros ya hemos tomado partido.
Y así, de esta manera,
reclamamos para nuestro lado la presente pared,

prestos y ávidos por luchar hasta la última victoria.


Happy Ending.

This is the way you left me, I'm not pretending, no hope, no love, no glory, no happy ending. This is the way that we love, like it's forever, then live the rest of our life but not together.

Mika, Life in Cartoon Motion, Happy Ending.


Apuntes del fútbol en Flores.

En un partido de fútbol caben infinidad de novelescos episodios. Allí reconoceremos la fuerza, la velocidad y la destreza del deportista. Pero también el engaño astuto del que amaga una conducta para decidirse por otra. Las sutiles intrigas que preceden al contragolpe. La lealtad del que socorre a un compañero en dificultades. La traición del que lo abandona. La avaricia de los que no sueltan la pelota. Y en cada jugada, la hidalguía, la soberbia, la inteligencia, la cobardía, la estupidez, la injusticia, la suerte, la burla, la risa o el llanto.

Alejandro Dolina, Crónicas del Ángel Gris, Apuntes del fútbol en Flores.

El Propósito de las Mujeres

Ives Castagnino, el músico de Palermo, razonaba de este modo: si el propósito de las mujeres terribles es hacer sufrir a los hombres, tienen dos maneras de lograrlo:
1) No viviendo un romance con ellos.
2) Viviéndolo.

Según parece, al músico lo aterrorizaba mucho más la segunda posibilidad.

Alejandro Dolina, Crónicas del Ángel Gris, La Conspiración de las Mujeres Hermosas.


Las Bolitas

Se trata de pequeñas esferas, casi siempre de vidrio. Su diámetro es variable: las más chicas se llaman "piojos" o "pininas", las medianas son las más frecuentes y están también las grandes o "bolones", que suelen utilizarse en el juego del Triángulo. Años atrás podían reconocerse diferentes pelajes de bolitas. Las más hermosas eran las "lecheras". En ellas predominaba el blanco, siempre mezclado con algún otro color. Eran semiopacas, no se podía ver a través de ellas y la variedad de diseños y combinaciones era enorme. Estaban también las semitransparentes, de colores fríos, casi siempre verdes o azules. Eran como cachos de sifón. En el interior a veces se adivinaba un filamento gelatinoso y más bien repugnante. Salvo excepciones, eran unas bolitas de porquería.

Alejandro Dolina, Crónicas del Ángel Gris, La decadencia de la bolita.

Capitulo II: el lugar donde se juega.

Nota: el folleto no menciona la interesante opinión de Manuel Mandeb, quien creyó entender que la escondida era un juego sin límites. Para el pensador árabe la escondida perfecta debía ser jugada por toda la estirpe humana, su escenario era el universo y su duración, la eternidad. Así, el próposito final de la Historia puede consistir en el nacimiento de un futuro Elegido, que se encargará de librar para todos los compañeros en un acto que marcará el fin de los tiempos.

Alejandro Dolina, Crónicas del Ángel Gris, Táctica y estrategia de la escondida.


Allí hay sueños para todos.

Sueños rosas para las ingenuas de la calle Artigas. Sueños blancos para los pibes y sueños rojos para los violentos. Hay sueños agujereados de despertares. Hay sueños sin sueños que son una larga cinta negra. Y sueños usados para los que sueñan siempre lo mismo. Sueños frescos, sueños maduros. El Ángel tiene sueños buenos y malos. Tiene uno tan terrible que si uno no despierta a tiempo, se muere. Tiene otro que dura cinco días y cinco noches. Y tiene un sueño tan corto como un suspiro: quien lo sueña, sueña que suspira.
El Ángel Gris elige sueños para cada uno de los que se atreven a dormir en Flores.

Alejandro Dolina, Crónicas del Ángel Gris, El reparto de sueños en el barrio de Flores.


The commencement of a rigid search.

I will be truthful and mention that before our rigid search, I had the opinion Jewish people were having shit between their brains. Primarily, this is because all I knew of Jewish people was that they paid Father very much currency in order to make vacations from America to Ukraine. I was of the opinion that the past is past and like all that is not now, it should remain buried along the side of our memories. But this was before the commencement of our very rigid search. Before I encountered the collector... Jonathan Safran Foer.

Everything is Illuminated, Liev Schreiber (2005).
Based on the novel by Jonathan Safran Foer.



So my king died, and my brothers died, barely a year ago. Long I pondered my king's cryptic talk of victory. But time has proven him wise, for from free Greek to free Greek, the word was spread that bold Leonidas and his 300, so far from home, laid down their lives... not just for Sparta, but for all Greece and the promise this country holds. Now, here on this ragged patch of earth called Plataea, Persian hordes face obliteration! Just there, the barbarians gather, sheer terror gripping tight their hearts with icy fingers, knowing full well what merciless horrors they suffered at the swords and spears of 300. Yet they stare now across the plain at 10,000 Spartans commanding 30,000 free Greeks! Ho! The enemy outnumber us a paltry three to one! Good odds for any Greek. This day we rescue a world from mysticism and tyranny, and usher in a future brighter than anything we could imagine. Give thanks, men, to Leonidas and the brave 300! To victory!

300, Zack Snyder.


The look on their faces.

You never understood, why we did this.
The audience knows the truth: the world is simple.
It's miserable, solid all the way through.
But if you could fool them, even for a second,
then you can make them wonder, and then you...
then you got to see something really special...
You really don't know?
It was... it was the look on their faces...

The Prestige. Christopher Nolan.

So far

This is the worst day of my life!

Worst day of your life, so far.

The Simpsons Movie.



Don't talk. Don't touch. Don't walk. Don't walk at night. Don't walk on the right. Don't drink. Don't think. Don't smoke. Don't do drugs. Don't do beef. Don't do junk. Don't be fat. Don't be thin. Don't chew. Don't spit. Don't swim. Don't breathe. Don't cry. Don't bleed. Don't kill. Don't experiment. Don't exist. Don't do anything. Don't fry your food. Don't fry your brain. Don't sit too close to the telly. Don't walk on the grass. Don't put your elbows on the table. Don't put your feet on the seat. Don't run with scissors and don't play with fire. Don't rebel. Don't smack. Don't touch. Don't masturbate. Don't be childish. Don't be old. Don't be ordinary. Don't be different. Don't stand out. Don't drop out.

Don't buy.
Don't read.

Comercial del diario inglés The Independent, Lowe Howard Spink London, 1999.


The Prophecy

"The one with the power
to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches...

born to those who have thrice defied him,
born as the seventh month dies...
and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal,
but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not...
and either must die at the hand of the other
for neither can live while the other survives...
the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord
will be born as the seventh month dies..."

J. K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix.

PD: A 10 días del final.


Advice, like youth, probably just wasted on the young.

Inside every adult lurks a graduation speaker dying to get out, some world-weary pundit eager to pontificate on life to young people who'd rather be Rollerblading. Most of us, alas, will never be invited to sow our words of wisdom among an audience of caps and gowns, but there's no reason we can't entertain ourselves by composing a Guide to Life for Graduates.

I encourage anyone over 26 to try this and thank you for indulging my attempt.

Wear sunscreen.

If I could offer you only one tip for the future, sunscreen would be it. The long-term benefits of sunscreen have been proved by scientists, whereas the rest of my advice has no basis more reliable than my own meandering experience. I will dispense this advice now.

Enjoy the power and beauty of your youth. Oh, never mind. You will not understand the power and beauty of your youth until they've faded. But trust me, in 20 years, you'll look back at photos of yourself and recall in a way you can't grasp now how much possibility lay before you and how fabulous you really looked. You are not as fat as you imagine.

Don't worry about the future. Or worry, but know that worrying is as effective as trying to solve an algebra equation by chewing bubble gum. The real troubles in your life are apt to be things that never crossed your worried mind, the kind that blindside you at 4 p.m. on some idle Tuesday.

Do one thing every day that scares you.


Don't be reckless with other people's hearts. Don't put up with people who are reckless with yours.


Don't waste your time on jealousy. Sometimes you're ahead, sometimes you're behind. The race is long and, in the end, it's only with yourself.

Remember compliments you receive. Forget the insults. If you succeed in doing this, tell me how.

Keep your old love letters. Throw away your old bank statements.


Don't feel guilty if you don't know what you want to do with your life. The most interesting people I know didn't know at 22 what they wanted to do with their lives. Some of the most interesting 40-year-olds I know still don't.

Get plenty of calcium. Be kind to your knees. You'll miss them when they're gone.

Maybe you'll marry, maybe you won't. Maybe you'll have children, maybe you won't. Maybe you'll divorce at 40, maybe you'll dance the funky chicken on your 75th wedding anniversary. Whatever you do, don't congratulate yourself too much, or berate yourself either. Your choices are half chance. So are everybody else's.

Enjoy your body. Use it every way you can. Don't be afraid of it or of what other people think of it. It's the greatest instrument you'll ever own.

Dance, even if you have nowhere to do it but your living room.

Read the directions, even if you don't follow them.

Do not read beauty magazines. They will only make you feel ugly.

Get to know your parents. You never know when they'll be gone for good. Be nice to your siblings. They're your best link to your past and the people most likely to stick with you in the future.

Understand that friends come and go, but with a precious few you should hold on. Work hard to bridge the gaps in geography and lifestyle, because the older you get, the more you need the people who knew you when you were young.

Live in New York City once, but leave before it makes you hard. Live in Northern California once, but leave before it makes you soft. Travel.

Accept certain inalienable truths: Prices will rise. Politicians will philander. You, too, will get old. And when you do, you'll fantasize that when you were young, prices were reasonable, politicians were noble and children respected their elders.

Respect your elders.

Don't expect anyone else to support you. Maybe you have a trust fund. Maybe you'll have a wealthy spouse. But you never know when either one might run out.

Don't mess too much with your hair or by the time you're 40 it will look 85.

Be careful whose advice you buy, but be patient with those who supply it. Advice is a form of nostalgia. Dispensing it is a way of fishing the past from the disposal, wiping it off, painting over the ugly parts and recycling it for more than it's worth.

But trust me on the sunscreen.

Mary Schmich, Chicago Tribune, June 1, 1997.



-Te juzgarás a tí mismo -le respondió el rey-. Es lo más difícil. Es mucho más difícil juzgarse a sí mismo que juzgar a los demás. Si logras juzgarte bien a ti mismo eres un verdadero sabio.

Antoine de Saint - Exupéry, El Principito.

Gente seria

Tuve así, en el curso de mi vida, muchísimas vinculaciones con muchísima gente seria. Viví mucho con personas grandes. Las he visto muy de cerca. No he mejorado excesivamente mi opinión.

Antoine de Saint - Exupéry, El Principito.



Derecho, siempre adelante de uno, no se puede ir muy lejos...

Antoine de Saint - Exupéry, El Principito.

Las personas grandes

Las personas grandes nunca comprenden nada por sí solas y es cansador para los niños tener que darles siempre y siempre explicaciones.

Antoine de Saint - Exupéry, El Principito.

Una lectura un tanto demorada

Sí, así es. Vuelvo a escribir, una vez más. Otra vez, a modo de explicación. Hace años que sé que debo leer El Principito. La pregunta de ¿cómo que no leíste El Principito? me la han hecho infinitas veces, en particular cuando disfruto mucho la lectura para chicos (o no tan chicos). A todos los que alguna vez me lo preguntaron, les contesto: ya empecé. Y, a priori, parece ser un libro maravilloso, con una cantidad increíble de citas para rescatar - y no estoy hablando de "lo escencial es invisible a los ojos", cita que estoy cansado de oir, y más cansado aún, de la gente que la utiliza.

En fin, van a encontrar unas cuantas entradas del libro en los próximos días. Espero que sepan entender.


Caso de diván

Do you have the time to listen to me whine, about nothing and everything, all at once? I'm one of those melodramatic fools, neurotic to the bone. No doubt about it.

Basket Case, Green Day.

Nuestro destino

En el futuro corre, como un río, nuestro destino, según lo dibujamos aquí abajo. En el futuro está todo, porque todo es posible. Allí usted murió la semana pasada y allí está viviendo para siempre.

Adolfo Bioy Casares. El sueño de los héroes.


Sense of Humour

No quiero comenzar ningún tipo de rumor blasfemo,
pero creo que Dios tiene un perverso sentido del humor.

Y cuando muera, espero encontrarlo riendo.

Blasphemous Rumors, Martin Gore.


End of Volume One

¿De donde viene esta búsqueda,
esta necesidad de resolver los misterios de la vida,
cuando la más simple de las preguntas
nunca puede ser contestada?
¿Por qué estamos aquí?
¿Qué es el alma?
¿Por qué soñamos?
Quizás estaríamos mucho mejor
si no nos preocupáramos por nada de eso.
Sin indagar, sin desear.
Pero esa no es la naturaleza humana.
No es el corazón de los hombres.
Eso no es para lo que estamos aquí.
Y entonces luchamos por hacer la diferencia,
por cambiar el mundo, por soñar una esperanza,
sin saber con certeza a quienes nos encontraremos
a lo largo del camino.
Quién dentro de este mundo de extraños
será el que sostenga nuestra mano,
el que toque nuestros corazones
y comparta el dolor de intentarlo.

Soñamos una esperanza.
Soñamos un cambio.
De fuego, de amor, de muerte.
Y entonces sucede.
El sueño se hace realidad.
Y la respuesta a aquella búsqueda,
ésa necesidad en resolver los misterios de la vida,
finalmente se revela.
Como la luz brillante de un nuevo amanecer.
Tanta lucha por encontrar significado,
por encontrar sentido sentido.
Pero al final, lo encontramos en cada uno de nosotros.
Nuestra experiencia compartida
de lo fantástico y de lo mundano.
La simple necesidad humana de encontrar
otro parecido a nosotros para conectar,
y para saber en en nuestros corazones
que no estamos solos.

Chapter 23 "How to stop an exploding man", Volume One, Heroes.


La felicidad nunca tiene grandeza.

La felicidad real siempre aparece escuálida por comparación con las compensaciones que ofrece la desdicha. Y, naturalmente, la estabilidad no es, ni con mucho, tan espectacular como la inestabilidad. Estar satisfecho del todo no posee el encanto que supone mantener una lucha justa contra la infelicidad, ni el pintoresquismo del combate contra la tentación o contra una pasión fatal o una duda. La felicidad nunca tiene grandeza.

A Brave New World, Aldous Huxley.


Nicholas Nickleby

In every life, no matter how full
or empty one's purse...
there is tragedy.
It is the one promise life always fulfills.
Thus, happiness is a gift...
and the trick is not to expect it,
but to delight in it when it comes...
and to add to other people's store of it.

Nicholas Nickleby, Charles Dickens.


Learning that fact.

I see in Fight Club the strongest
and smartest men who have ever lived;

an entire generation pumping gas and waiting tables;
or they are salves with white collars.
Advertisementes have them chasing cars and clothes,
working jobs they hate so the can buy shit they don't need.
We are the middle children of history,
with no purpose or place.

We have no great war or great depression.
The great war is a spiritual war.
The great depression is our lives.
We were raised by television
to believe that we'd be millionaires

and movie gods and rocks stars.
But we won't.
And we are learning that fact.
And we are very, very pissed off.

Fight Club, David Fincher.

Fight Club Rules

The first rule of fight club is:
you don't talk about fight club.
The second rule of fight club is:
you don't talk about fight club.
The third rule of fight club is:
when someone says "stop" or goes limp,
the fight is over.
Fourth rule is:
only two guys to a fight.
Fifth rule:
one fight at a time.
Sixth rule:
no shirts, no shoes.
Seventh rule:
fights go on as long as they have to.
And the eighth and final rule:
if this is your first night at fight club,
you have to fight.

Fight Club, David Fincher



It's a letter. It's me mom's.

To my son, Billy.

Dear Billy:
I know I must seem like a distant memory to you,
which is probably a good thing.

It will have been a long time

and I will have missed seeing you grow.

Missed you crying, laughing and shouting.

I will have missed telling you off.

But please know that I was always there.

With you through everything.

I always will be.

And I am proud to have known you.

And I'm proud that you were mine.

Always be yourself.

I'll love you forever.


Billy Elliot, Stephen Daldry.

The Parting Glass

"Of all the money that e'er I had,
I spent it in good company.
And all the harm I've ever done,
Alas it was to none but me.
And all I've done for want of wit,
To memory now I can't recall
So fill to me the parting glass;
Goodnight, and joy be with you all.

Of all the comrades that e'er I had,
They are sorry for my going away.
And all the sweethearts that ere I had,
They'd wish me one more day to stay.
But since it falls unto my lot
That I should rise and you should not;
I'll gently rise and softly call,
Goodnight and joy be with you all.

If I had money enough to spend,
And leisure time to sit awhile;
There is a fair maid in this town,
Who sorely has my heart beguiled.
Her rosey cheeks and ruby lips,
I own she has my heart in thrall.
So fill to me the parting glass,
Goodnight... and joy be with you all."

PD: The Parting Glass, es una canción tradicional muy popular en Irlanda y Escocia, habitualmente cantada en las reuniones de amigos, y la pueden escuchar sobre el final de la película "Waking Ned Divne".


Otro punto de vista

Sueño que entro en la sala de un cinematógrafo. En las primeras filas hay espectadores de cabeza muy grande; entiendo que son dioses y que el film que ven es la vida. Sentado en el fondo de la sala, de repente me veo en un rincón de la pantalla; soy espectador de mi propia vida. Entonces tengo una revelación; sé por qué un dios bueno permite que nos pasen cosas horribles. Comprendo que no importa lo que nos pase, porque no somos reales, sino un entretenimiento para los dioses, de la misma manera que los personajes de los films lo son para nosotros.

Adolfo Bioy Casares.


About the life of wine

I suppose I got really into wine originally through my ex-husband. He had a big, kind of show-off cellar. But then I found out that I have a really sharp palate, and the more I drank, the more I liked what it made me think about the fraud he was. I do like to think about the life of wine, how it's a living thing. I like to think about what was going on the year the grapes were growing, how the sun was shining that summer or if it rained... what the weather was like. I think about all those people who tended and picked the grapes, and if it's an old wine, how many of them must be dead by now. I love how wine continues to evolve,how every time I open a bottle it's going to taste different than if I had opened it on any other day.Because a bottle of wine is actually alive -- it's constantly evolving and gaining complexity. That is, until it peaks -- like your '61 -- and begins its steady, inevitable decline. And it tastes so fucking good.
Sideways. Alexander Payne.


I'm Ibiza

- Who wrote the phrase "No man is an island"? John Donne? John Milton? John F. Kennedy? Jon Bon Jovi?

Jon Bon Jovi. Too easy.
And, if I may say so, a complete load of bollocks.
In my opinion, all men are islands.
And what's more, now's the time to be one.
This is an island age.
A hundred years ago, you had to depend on other people.
No one had TV or CDs or DVDs or videos...
...or home espresso makers.
Actually, they didn't have anything cool.
Whereas now, you see...
...you can make yourself a little island paradise.
With the right supplies and the right attitude...
...you can be sun-drenched, tropical, a magnet...
...for young Swedish tourists.
Hi, it's Kristina. I haven't heard from you.
I had a great time last weekend. So give me a call, okay? 'Bye.
And I like to think that perhaps I am that kind of island.
I like to think I'm pretty cool.
I like to think I'm Ibiza.

About a Boy. Nick Hornby.

Ser alguien

El problema con mi generación es que todos creemos ser malditos genios. Tener una profesión ya no es suficiente, ni vender algo, ni enseñar algo, o incluso hacer algo: tenemos que SER alguien. Es nuestro derecho inalienable como ciudadanos del siglo XXI. ¿Si Christina Aguilera o Britney Spears, o algún idiota de American Idol puede ser alguien, por qué no podemos serlo nosotros?

A Long Way Down, Nick Hornby


Love is all around.

Whenever I get gloomy with the state of the world,
I think about the arrivals gate at Heathrow airport.

General opinion makes out that we live in a world
of hatred and greed
I don't see that.
Seems to me that love is everywhere.

Often it's not particularly dignified or newsworthy
but it's always there.

Fathers and sons, mothers and daughters,
husbands and wives,
boyfriends, girlfriends, old friends.
When the planes hit the Twin Towers,

none of the phone calls from
people on board
were messages of hate or revenge,

they were all messages of love.

lf you look for it,
I've got a sneaky feeling
you'll find that love
actually is all around.

Love Actually, Richard Curtis.


How dreams are prepared

1, 2, 3, 4.

Hi, welcome back to another episode of Televisión Educative.
Tonight, I'll show you how dreams are prepared.
People think it's a very simple and easy process,
but it's a bit more complicated than that.
As you can see, a very delicate combination
of complex ingredients is the key.
First, we put in some random thougths,
and then we ad a little bit of reminiscences of the day,
mixed with some memories from the past,
love, friendships, relationships, and all those ships,
together with songs you heard during the day,
things you saw and also a personal...
Ok, I think there's one.
There it goes, yes!
Ok, we have to run...
I'm talking quietly to not wake myself up.

The Science of Sleep, Michel Gondry.

Pursue the moment


Algo para decir

A la gente le gusta hablar y que la escuchen,
y no me parece mal,
después de todo,
Dios nos ha dejado solos en un mundo hostil.

El problema es que muy pocos
tienen algo importante para decir.

Marcelo Birmajer. Nuevas historias de hombres casados.



Alicia preguntó tímidamente:
_ ¿Podrías decirme, por favor, qué camino debo seguir para salir de aquí?

_ Eso depende en gran parte del sitio al que quieras llegar –dijo el Gato.

_ No me importa mucho el sitio… -dijo

_ Entonces tampoco importa mucho el camino que tomes –dijo el Gato.

_ …siempre que llegue a alguna parte –añadió Alicia como explicación.

_ Oh, siempre llegarás a alguna parte –aseguró el Gato- si
caminas lo suficiente.

Lewis Carrol. Alicia en el País de las Maravillas.

Fotos por Annie Leibovitz


What is the Matrix?

Welcome, Neo.
As you no doubt have guessed, I am Morpheus.
I imagine, right now,
you must be feeling a bit like Alice,
tumblingdown the rabbit hole?
I can see it in your eyes.
You have the look of a man
who accepts what he sees
because he is expecting to wake up.
Ironically, this is not far from the truth.
But I'm getting ahead of myself.
Let me tell you why you are here.
It's that feeling you have had all your life.
You don't know what it is but it's there,
like a splinter in your mind, driving you mad,
driving you to me.
But what is it?
The Matrix is everywhere, it's all around us,
here even in this room.
You can see it out your window,
or on your television.
You feel it when you go to work,
or go to church or pay your taxes.
It is the world that has been pulled over your eyes
to blind you from the truth.
That you are a slave, Neo.
That you, like everyone else,
was born inside a prison
that you cannot smell, taste, or touch.
A prison for your mind.
Unfortunately, no one can be told what the Matrix is.
You have to see it for yourself.
You take the blue pill and the story ends.
You wake in your bed and you believe
whatever you want to believe.
You take the red pill and you stay in Wonderland
and I show you how deep the rabbit-hole goes.

The Architect

There are two doors.
The door to your right leads to the Source,
and the salvation of Zion.

The door to your left leads back to the Matrix,
to her and to the end of your species.
As you adequately put, the problem is choice.
But we already know what you are going to do, don't we?
Already, I can see the chain reaction
- the chemical precursors that signal
the onset of an emotion,
designed specifically
to overwhelm logic and reason -

an emotion that is already blinding you
from the simple and obvious truth.
She is going to die,
and there is nothing you can do to stop it.

It is the quintessential human delusion,
simultaneously the source
of your greatest strength

and your greatest weakness.


The male code (Seinfeld)

All plans between men are tentative.
If one man should suddenly have an
to pursue a woman,
it's like these two guys never met each other
ever in life.
This is the male code.
And it doesn't matter how important the
arrangements are,
I mean, most of the time
when they scrub a space shuttle
it's because one of the astronauts
met someone on his way to the launch
They hold that countdown.
He's leaning against the rocket talking to her,
"So listen, when I get back what do you say
we get together for some Tang?"


We want women! (Seinfeld)

I swear, I have absolutely no idea what women are thinking.
I don't get it, OK?
I admit, I'm not getting the signals.
Women, they're so subtle, their little...
everything they do is subtle...
men are not subtle, we are obvious.
Women know what men want,
men know what men want,
what do we want?
We want women!
It's the only thing we know for sure, it really is:
we want women.
How do we get them?
Oh, we don't know 'bout that, we don't know.