en casa

a propósito de los días por venir...

"If you went home empty-handed, you might even be scolded by your wife or your children"

"The most difficult part of all of this is to comprehend the moment when men become killers. The Hutus claimed not to have been forced to kill, though they did fear the consequences of not joining in at the beginning. By the time of the interviews, killing strikes them as quite normal. It's not as though their first kill is particularly memorable. Still, they attempt to recall it:

Fulgence: "First I cracked an old mama's head with a club."
Alphonse: "I was quite surprised by the speed of death, and also by the softness of the blow."
Adalbert didn't remember the "precise details" of his first kill: "Therefore the true first time worth telling from a lasting memory, for me, is when I killed two children, April 17."

They meditate on murder like this throughout the book.

Elie: "The club is more crushing, but the machete is more natural. The Rwandan is accustomed to the machete from childhood. Grab a machete - that is what we do every morning."
Alphonse: "Saving the babies, that was not practical. They were whacked against walls and trees or they were cut right away."

Indeed, especially for farmers, slicing at things was routine. The men use the word "cut" to describe their murders, as if what they did was akin to dragging a paper edge across a thumb. Obviously it's a callous way of distancing themselves from their deeds, but it also signals the parallel they saw between hacking Tutsis and working in the fields.

Yet, there were differences. "Killing was a demanding but more gratifying activity," said Pio. "The proof: none ever asked permission to go clear brush on his field, not even for a half-day." Soon it became addictive, and there were rewards: "We could no longer stop ourselves from wielding the machete, it brought us so much profit." The looting that accompanied the killing was dazzling for the poor farmers, and it offered a way for the women to pitch in (though some women and children did kill). They stole everything - some even grabbed the bloodstained clothing of the dead. "If you went home empty-handed, you might even be scolded by your wife or your children," one man said. And despite knowing that their husbands were out raping women and then killing them, most wives still made love to their husbands at night."

Suzy Hansen on Machete Season: The Killers in Rwanda Speak, by Jean Hatzfeld (The Guardian)

la oscuridad inexpugnable

Ruanda, 1994: más de 800.000 personas asesinadas en 100 días
y como siempre, los asesinos son como cualquiera, como los que te encontrás en el bus, en la calle, todos los días... como, dios de los ateos, como uno mismo

"Por los muertos triunfantes"

"Elijah Snow: Una cerveza. Y otra para este anciano.
John Stone: Hola, Elijah. Ha pasado mucho tiempo.
ES: ¿Qué lugar es éste?
JS: Es muy secreto. Tú querías privacía. Se llama "El Último Tiro". Hay un equipo de técnicos nucleares ex soviéticos refugiados aquí cerca. Junto con el equipo de investigación que estableció que el alma humana es un campo electromagnético. También dicen haber hallado a dónde van las almas. Que el cielo y el infierno no son más que un par de motores en constante lucha uno contra el otro, y las almas son el carbón que los tiene en marcha. Éste es el lugar donde se hace trampa al más allá. Verás, los campos electromagnéticos son eliminados terminalmente por las explosiones nucleares. Así que vienen aquí a tomarse un último trago y a sacarse una fotografía, y luego se amarran a una bomba nuclear para una prueba subterránea. Por los muertos triunfantes.
ES: Eso es algo por lo que vale la pena brindar."

Warren Ellis: Planetary 11 (Dibujos de John Cassaday)

No como ellos

nada que me rebaje a su semejanza.

diez años del genocidio de Srebrenica.

so far, today's best

los regaños de camila.
leer a vexen.

el ego es el enemigo.

bienvenido...

en algún momento mientras te miraba sonreír, mientras me hundía en el vértigo de verte cerrar los ojos después de leer lo que te escribía, le dije a tu imagen: te voy a volver mierda, te voy volver gran puta mierda...


bienvenido, viejo... ha pasado mucho tiempo...

solamente en sueños...

regresé a postear simplemente la canción... pero estaba diana conectada y después de meses volví a verla por cámara... y duele... le dije lo que dolía y hablamos de los páramos... "gracias por ser el primero en hacerme ir lejos."

mierda.

vil mierda.

me voy a beber un par de bloody marys o en su defecto un par de manhattans...

ojalá más tarde pueda llorar.


" You can't resist her.
She's in your bones.
She is your marrow
And your ride home.

You can't avoid her.
She's in the air... in the air
In between molecules of
Oxygen and carbon dioxide.

[chorus]
Only in dreams
We see what it means.
Reach out our hands.
Hold onto hers.
But when we wake
It's all been erased.
And so it seems
Only in dreams.

You walk up to her.
Ask her to dance.
She says, "Hey, baby, I just might take the chance."
You say, "It's a good thing
That you float in the air... in the air.
That way there's no way I will crush your pretty toenails into a thousand pieces."

[chorus]

Only in dreams. (x6)"

Weezer: Only in Dreams (1994)

voices

"In front of it stood a robot. At the sight of me, the robot opened the door and stepped aside. The curious sounds became stronger. I looked inside; it was not as dark as I had thought at first. Because of the murderous heat from the sheet metal I could hardly breathe, and would have backed out immediately had it not been for the voices. For they were human voices--distorted, merging in a hoarse chorus, blurred, babbling, as though in the gloom a pile of defective telephones were talking. I took two uncertain steps, something crunched beneath my feet, and clearly, from the floor, it spoke:

"Pleash...shir...haff..."

I stood rooted to the spot. The stifling air tasted of iron. The whisper came from below.

"Pleash...haff...look ar-round...pleash..."

It was joined by a second, monotonous voice, steadily reciting:

"O anomaly eccentric...O asymptote spherical...O pole in infinity...O protosystem linear...O system holonomic...O space semimetrical...O space spherical...O space dielectrical..."

"Pleash...Shir...yer shervet...pleash..."

The darkness teemed with husky whisperings, out of which boomed:

"The planetary bioplasm, its decaying mud, is the dawn of existence, the initial phase, and lo from the bloody, dough-brained cometh copper...."

"Brek--break--brabzel--be...bre...veryscope..."

"O class imaginary...O class powerful...O class empty...O class of classes..."

"Pleash...haff...look ar-round...shir..."

"Hush-sh..."

"You..."

"Sh-sh."

"Hear me...."

"I hear...."

"Can you touch...?"

"Brek--break--brabzel..."

"No arms..."

"Sh-shame...you...you would see what a shiny and cold I am...."

"L-let them re...turn my armor, my golden sword...my inheri...tance...dis...possessed... night...."

"Behold the last efforts of the strutting croaking master of quartering and incarceration, for yea it riseth, thrice riseth the coming kingdom of the nonliving...."

"I'm new...quite new...I never had a short in the skeleton....I am still able...please..."

"Pleash..."

I did not know which way to look, asphyxiated by the merciless heat and those voices. They came from all sides. From the floor to the window slots below the ceiling rose heaps of twisted and tangled bodies; the little light that filtered in was reflected weakly in their dented metal.

"I had a temp, a temporary defect, but now I am all, am all right, I can see...."

"What do you see...it is dark...."

"Listen, please. I am invaluable, I am expensive. I indicate every power leak, I locate every stray current, every overload, just test me, please....This...this shaking is temporary....It has nothing in common with...please..."

"Pleash...shir..."

"And the dough-headed took their acid fermentation for a soul, the stabbing of meat for history, the means of postponing their decay for civilization...."

"Please, me...only me...it is a mistake...."

"Pleash...shir...haff..."

"I will save you...."

"Who is that...."

"What..."

"Who saves?"

"Repeat after me: the fire will not consume me utterly, and the water will not turn me all to rust, both elements will be a gate unto me, and I shall enter...."

"Hush-sh-sh!"

"The contemplation of the cathode--"

"Cathodoplation--"

"I am here by mistake....I think...I think, after all..."

"I am the mirror of betrayal...."

"Pleash...shir...yer shervet...haff a look ar-round..."

"O flight of the transfinite, O flight of the nebulae...O flight of the stars..."

"He is here!!!" something cried; and a sudden silence fell, a silence almost as penetrating in its terrible tension as the tension of the many-voiced chorus that had preceded it.

"Sir!!!" said something; I do not know why I was so sure, but I felt that these words were directed to me, I did not respond. "Sir, please...a moment of your time. Sir, I--am different. I am here by mistake."

There was a stir.

"Silence! I am living!" This outshouted the rest. "Yes, I was thrown in here, they dressed me in metal on purpose, so no one would know, but please, only put your ear to me and you will hear a pulse!"

"I also!" came a second voice over the first. "I also! Sir! I was ill; during my illness, I imagined that I was a machine, that was my madness, but now I am well! Hallister, Mr. Hallister can vouch for me, please ask him, please get me out of here!"

"Pleash...pleash, shir..."

"Brek...break..."

"Your servant..."

The barracks buzzed and roared with rusty voices, at one point it was filled with a breathless scream, I began to retreat and stumbled backward into the sunlight, blinded, squinting; I stood awhile, shielding my eyes with my hand; behind me was a drawn-out grating sound; the robot had shut the door and bolted it.

"Sirrrr..." This still reached me through the wave of muffled voices from behind the wall. "Pleash...service...a mistake..."

I passed the glass annex. I did not know where I was going--I only wanted to get away from those voices, not to hear them..."

Stanislaw Lem (1921- ): Return from the Stars (Powrót z Gwiazd, 1961)

quiero de vos...

que bailés... que tu ser hembra brille a través de tu piel...

cuánto agradecería...

...que cierta cretina que me lee de vez en cuando no lo volviera a hacer...

"Wrapped Around Your Finger"

"You consider me the young apprentice
Caught between the Scylla and Charybdis.
Hypnotized by you if I should linger
Staring at the ring around your finger.
I have only come here seeking knowledge,
Things they would not teach me of in college.
I can see the destiny you sold
Turned into a shining band of gold.

I'll be wrapped around your finger.
I'll be wrapped around your finger.

Mephistopheles is not your name,
But I know what you're up to just the same.
I will listen hard to your tuition,
And you will see it come to it's fruition.

I'll be wrapped around your finger.
I'll be wrapped around your finger.

Devil and the deep blue sea behind me
Vanish in the air you'll never find me.
I will turn your flesh to alabaster,
When you'll find your servant is your master,

You'll be wrapped around my finger.
You'll be wrapped around your finger.
You'll be wrapped around my finger."

The Police: Synchronicity (1983)

"sólo por llenar egos"

(W)Als don for nitch...D(U) dice:
pero ah sabe ke, eso ya se ha perdido mucho en mi, ya para creer algo si como hp, a lo bien, ya no, ademas para ke, me acuerdo y no mejor no, para ke
(W)Als don for nitch...D(U) dice:
lo paila es ke la gente se lleva lo mejor de uno para ni mierda
animal dice:
sí, es triste como el mundo lo jode a uno
(W)Als don for nitch...D(U) dice:
solo por llenar egos y marikonadas