Sunday, 29 July 2012

A new order

How many times must I lose my way?
How many words do I have to say?
What can I do just to make you see
That you're so good for a man like me...

Thursday, 26 July 2012

Florence + The Robot

- I'd have held back if Cecil was different. But he's the sort who can't know anyone intimately, least of all a woman. He doesn't know what a woman is. He wants you for a possession, to look at like a painting or an ivory box. Something to own and to display. He doesn't want you to be real, to think and to live. He doesn't love you.
But I love you. I want you to have your own thoughts and ideas, even when I hold you in my arms.

- George Emerson, "A Room with a View" (James Ivory, 1985)

Saturday, 21 July 2012

Lips like sugar


"The world is changed because you are made of ivory and gold.
The curves of your lips rewrite history"

- Oscar Wilde, "The Picture of Dorian Gray", chapter 20

Wednesday, 18 July 2012

Brainzzz

Don’t you see the whole aim of Newspeak is to narrow the range of thought? In the end we shall make thoughtcrime literally impossible, because there will be no words in which to express it. Every concept that can ever be needed will be expresses in exactly one word, with its meaning rigidly defined and all its subsidiary meanings rubbed out and forgotten.
…every year, fewer and fewer words, and the range of consciousness always a little smaller…

- George Orwell, "1984", chapter 5


The problem of pain

In your life you meet people.
Some you never think about again.
Some, you wonder what happened to them.
There are some that you wonder if they ever think about you.
And then there are some that you wish you never have to think about again. But you do.

- Kevin Arnold, "The Wonder Years", s2e15

Tuesday, 17 July 2012

Wise words

"Expectation Is The Root Of All Heartache"

- Falsely attributed to William Shakespeare

Tuesday, 10 July 2012

Ode to an ex-friend

O, thou...

Cuánto ha llovido desde aquel "Cuida bien de ella, que vale mucho". Y desde los peluchitos de Winchester, los patos hechos con pajitas en el República con todo el mundo alrededor, tomando calimochos con mora por las tardes de septiembre.

Aquella sorpresa en Florencia entregada con desdén, aunque sabías que me hacía mucha ilusión. Dedicatorias interminables en las becas la noche de la graduación, miradas de complicidad en cualquier situación. Tu casa de la huerta y las innumerables cosas que pasaron en sus inmediaciones. Camisetas de Gollum, estuches de Shrek. La tarde en el irlandés justo antes de empezar nuestra etapa universitaria...

Y a partir de entonces, todo se vuelve borroso. Exceptuando situaciones como la de aquel Bando de 2007 en el que, caminando ya de noche por la Gran Vía, fuimos abrazados con otra persona un buen tramo.

Pero ahora ya da igual, porque todos esos momentos se perderán como lágrimas en la lluvia. Se disiparán como copos de nieve en el mar.

Y no voy a lamentarme más por este tema.