Sis

Vosaltres

Anàveu carregats de llavors negres

D’on vau tornar que no vau veure?

D’on vau tornar?

 

Perquè éreu massa a prop de la destrossa

Enlloc se us va sentir la febre de la terra

Enlloc se us va sentir

 

Tranquils

Tranquils vosaltres que diguéreu por

Tranquils que no direu que ho sabreu tot

 

Malaguanyats vosaltres

Agenollats vosaltres

 

Indiferents vosaltres.

 

Ajusticiats aneu als versos,

que és una trampa de la neu

alçada per penjar-hi pell.

 

(Albert Balasch)

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El viernes quedamos

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En La Casa Encendida dicen:

El día 8 a las 20:00 con motivo del Día de la Mujer Trabajadora iniciaremos el ciclo “Girls on fire”. Para ello proyectaremos los dos primeros capítulos de Girls, la serie que fue sorpresa en la pasada edición de los Globos de Oro. Posteriormente Lucía Lijtmaer establecerá un coloquio con los asistentes a partir del tema “Amar en tiempos Hipster”. El precio es de 3 euros. *

Yo digo:

Margaret Cho, Woody Allen, Sheila Heti, Meredith Haaf, Icona Pop, Sloaney Crosley y mucho más. Y que la culpa de todo, TODO, la tiene Jordan Catalano. Vengan, que lo pasaremos bien.

This understanding

trevorpaglen

“And what made these heart-to-hearts possible–you might even say what made the whole friendship possible during that time–was this understanding we had that anything we told each other during these moments would be treated with careful respect: that we’d honor confidences, and that no matter how much we rowed, we wouldn’t use against each other anything we’d talked about during those sessions.”
― Kazuo IshiguroNever Let Me Go

Imagen de Trevor Paglen de una estación de escucha que forma parte del sistema ECHELON. Fue diseñada en parte para aprovechar un fenómeno llamado “rebote lunar”. El rebote lunar implica la captura de las comunicaciones y las señales de telemetría de todo el mundo que, al escapar al espacio, rebotan en la luna, y se reflejan de vuelta hacia la Tierra.

We’ve made a graveyard out of the bone white afternoon

.

You saved my life he says I owe you everything.

You don’t, I say, you don’t owe me squat, let’s just get going, let’s just get gone, but he’s

relentless,

keeps saying I owe you, says Your shoes are filling with your own damn blood,

you must want something, just tell me, and it’s yours.

But I can’t look at him, can hardly speak,

I took the bullet for all the wrong reasons, I’d just as soon kill you myself, I say.

You keep saying I owe you, I owe… but you say the same thing every time.

Let’s not talk about it, let’s just not talk.

Not because I don’t believe it, not because I want it any different, but I’m always saving

and you’re always owing and I’m tired of asking to settle the debt.

Don’t bother.

You never mean it anyway, not really, and it only makes me that much more ashamed.

There’s only one thing I want, don’t make me say it, just get me bandages, I’m bleeding,

I’m not just making conversation.

There’s smashed glass glittering everywhere like stars. It’s a Western, Henry,

it’s a downright shoot-em-up. We’ve made a graveyard out of the bone white afternoon.

It’s another wrong-man-dies scenario

and we keep doing it, Henry, keep saying until we get it right…

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