people make mistakes

FLEABAG


de Phoebe Waller-Bridge



el arte del humor

El cuervo es todo hombre que no puede reconocer que todo lo que más odia y teme está dentro de él

“Goethe llamó a su obra una gran confesión, ¿no? Mirando su trabajo en sentido amplio, uno podría decir lo mismo de Shakespeare: un autoexamen y una autoacusación totales, una confesión total –muy desnuda, pienso, cuando uno la mira. Quizás sea lo mismo con cualquier escrito que tenga vida poética real. Quizás toda la poesía, en tanto nos conmociona y nos conecta con nosotros, es la revelación de algo que el escritor no quiere en realidad decir pero necesita desesperadamente comunicar, entregar. (…) El misterio real es esta extraña necesidad. ¿Por qué no podemos esconderlo y callarnos la boca? ¿Por qué tenemos que parlotear? ¿Por qué los seres humanos necesitamos confesar? Quizás si uno no tiene esa secreta confesión que hacer, no tiene un poema –no tiene ni siquiera una historia. No tiene un escritor. Si la mayoría de la poesía no parece ser en ningún sentido confesional, será porque la estrategia de lo oblicuo, del ocultamiento, puede ser tan compulsiva que resulta casi enteramente exitosa”, respondería, como si improvisando un arte poética, para The Paris review.

There she was just walkin' down the street Singin', "Do wah diddy, diddy, dum diddy do"

my girl

1991

Vada Sultenfuss. No hay mucho más que agregar. 

My fears and secrets? I'm afraid I killed my mother.

It's not like I'm falling in love I just want you to do me no good / And you look like you could

I wanna be your vacuum cleaner 
Breathing in your dust 
I wanna be your Ford Cortina 
I will never rust 
If you like your coffee hot 
Let me be your coffee pot 
You call the shots 
I wanna be yours 

a few of my favourite things II

augustine

2012

Se me mete entre las uñas.

a few of my favourite things

lore

2012

Film hecho de 

tensión sexual

 barro

 agua de río

 moretones

 pelo enredado

 labios partidos

verdades

I do not exist to impress the world. I exist to live my life in a way that will make me happy

“Ya es bastante que viva, que no robe, ni mate, ni ejerza la prostitución. En vez de eso, leo poemas y estoy angustiada.”

— Alejandra pizarnik

“A lovely young girl lies on a bed in the dark listening to a fairy tale,” I said. “But she’s naked and the storyteller’s hands are all over her.”

MINE  - director álvaro de la herrán

una amiga me contó de una parejita en el colectivo

ella con un collar como este en el cuello

no me acuerdo si me dijo que él la llevaba.

yo les habría sonreído

mi hermana, expulsada por fornicaria. yo, expulsada por fornicaria. nosotras las fornicarias

joven y alocada

2012

Esas películas que me absorben .

“A está frente a T, T está sin polera, T le mira las piernas a A…Las piernas lindas de A, T se acerca, trata de tocarla, A lo empuja (se ríe) A lo atrae (se ríe) Yo soy público, no me río, no me muevo, no quiero que ninguno gane, sólo quiero que gane el follón todo poderoso (culéatela) Culéatela digo despacito, culiemos y A se ríe, no me escucha mientras T la derriba, mientras T le abre las lindas piernas y le dice “deja de reírte” y yo pienso…”Ya por fin se lo va a meter” pero ya no puedo pensar en ellos, sólo puedo pensar en mi cuerpo, sólo pienso en mi propio cuerpo que tiembla, tiembla, tiembla de cochino hasta que deja de temblar.”

sing to me little bird and i promise i'll sing back

well my holes in my jeans dance around in the street

Courbet vs Orlan

The Origin of the World (1866)

The Origin of War (1989)

I dont wanna cry for u no more

anita dadà

Gente que es arte.

Informese

yo también, yo también

IV

Mr. Postman

and I'll send all my loving to you

     Ya sé a qué me quiero dedicar cuando sea grande.

     Lo acabo de terminar de esbozar, charla via MSN con E. mediante, pero en realidad la idea había comenzado a gestarse hace unos días.

     Recién salidita del baño y con mi clásica modorra vacacional volví a tirarme en la cama deshecha. Cigarrillo, olor a limpio-desnuda y las sábanas frescas haciéndome mimitos, se me ocurrió nosequecosa que me urgió escribir en mi computadora. Laptop, laputamadre. Hay poca gente que merece escribir desde la cama, sin escalas, desnuda, y me consta que soy una de ellas. For the sake of beauty, si no otra cosa. 

     Entonces sí: escribir un aviso clasificado que ofrezca, al bienaventurado que se encargue de procurarme una laptop, emails diarios. Verborrágico correo electrónico bien pero bien caliente, dedicado, de redacción aceptable. Desde el día de hoy y hasta el día en que me muera, ser protagonista del más apasionado love-affaire imaginable. 365 emails por año escritos desnudita desde mi cama, con garantía de hacer sentir, descontando al palpitante deseo, 365 emociones diferentes al destinatario.

     Ah, es un buen plan. 

     Así es que mientras se lo describía a E., pensé: ¿por qué no llevarlo más allá?

          Relaciones epistolares à la carte, by Lolita Copacabana.

     Señora, señor, jóvenes de todos los gustos y colores: me ofrezco a escribirle como quien más le venga la gana.

    ¿Perdido en París, buscando una excusa para extrañar Buenos Aires? Permítame ser su novia abandonada. Si quiere una amante viajera le describiré con ahínco cada ventana de mi atlas. Si se ha quedado sin madre déjeme escribirle instándolo a que se abrigue, a que coma bien, a que deje a esas locas de malamuerte con las que se anda juntando. ¿Necesita un discípulo? ¿Un mentor? Siempre es bueno contar entre sus amigos con un futuro abogado. ¿No te dan bola las chicas en el cole? Me puedo rebajar fácilmente hasta los quince, quizás doce años. Si me dejas maltratarte puedo ser la confirmación de que el mundo es cruel, las mujeres malvadas. Puedo ser tu hija perdida, o tu compañerita de banco de primer grado. La diosa que te rebotó en el boliche, esa chica triste que no podías dejar de mirar en la plaza. 

     ¡Ah, sí! A eso me dedicaría con gusto.

     Otra que prostituta, psst.

     ¿Cuánto podré cobrar?

Lola Copacabana, Buena leche  - Diarios de una joven [no tan] formal.

"parece que lo que os gusta es la bestia, esa bestia que muerde pero sin sacar el pedazo, que folla por instinto por lo tanto no tiene la culpa en su acto"

ni chica Bond ni chica Almodóvar

yo quiero ser una chica Manara

chanchadas

"Volví a caer en el agujero. Todo mi cuerpo volvía a girar con la rotación del planeta, respiré con el cruce de los vientos, de pronto mi corazón latió con la masa de las mareas chocando contra las orillas, y mi sangre corrió con el peso de las nieves (...) En mis arterias sentí que batía el llamado de los otros animales, el enfrentamiento y el acoplamiento, el perfume deseable de mi raza en celo"

Marie Darrieussecq

razones por las que amo a Gustave Courbet y a León Ferrari

No codiciarás a la mujer de tu prójimo, 1997

Escritura en braille sobre reproducción de El origen del mundo, de Gustave Courbet.

"No codiciarás a la mujer de tu prójimo" (Dt. 5, 21)

razones por las que amo a León Ferrari

La Lengua, 1997

Versículo de la epístola de Santiago escrito en braille  sobre una estampa de Utagawa Toyokuni. 

"La lengua es un fuego, un mundo de maldad. La lengua está puesta entre nuestros miembros, y contamina todo el cuerpo, e inflama la rueda de la creación, y ella misma es inflamada por el infierno. Porque toda naturaleza de bestias, y de aves, y de serpientes, se doma y ha sido domada por el hombre. Pero ningún hombre puede domar la lengua, que es un mal que no puede ser refrenado, llena de veneno mortal. Con ella bendecimos al Dios y Padre, y con ella maldecimos a los hombres, que han sido hechos a la semejanza de Dios. De una misma boca proceden bendición y maldición. Hermanos míos, esto no debe ser así" (Sant. 3, 6-10)

Ámate, 1997 

Escritura en braille sobre reproducción  de Juego de manos de  Kitagawa Utamaro, que muestra la técnica de masturabación  mokodaijuji: pellizcar el clítoris entre los dedos índice y mayor.

"Ama a tu prójimo como a ti mismo" (Mr. 12,31)

Put Me in Again

It must have been about this time that the son of a king, who lived a thousand miles from Lagobel set out to look for the daughter of a queen. He travelled far and wide, but as sure as he found a princess, he found some fault in her. Of course he could not marry a mere woman, however beautiful; and there was no princess to be found worthy of him. Whether the prince was so near perfection that he had a right to demand perfection itself, I cannot pretend to say. All I know is, that he was a fine, handsome, brave, generous, well-bred, and well-behaved youth, as all princes are.

In his wanderings he had come across some reports about our princess; but as everybody said she was bewitched, he never dreamed that she could bewitch him. For what indeed could a prince do with a princess that had lost her gravity? Who could tell what she might not lose next? She might lose her visibility, or her tangibility; or, in short, the power of making impressions upon the radical sensorium; so that he should never be able to tell whether she was dead or alive. Of course he made no further inquiries about her. One day he lost sight of his retinue in a great forest. These forests are very useful in delivering princes from their courtiers, like a sieve that keeps back the bran. Then the princes get away to follow their fortunes. In this way they have the advantage of the princesses, who are forced to marry before they have had a bit of fun. I wish our princesses got lost in a forest sometimes.

One lovely evening, after wandering about for many days, he found that he was approaching the outskirts of this forest; for the trees had got so thin that he could see the sunset through them; and he soon came upon a kind of heath. Next he came upon signs of human neighbourhood; but by this time it was getting late, and there was nobody in the fields to direct him.

After travelling for another hour, his horse, quite worn out with long labour and lack of food, fell, and was unable to rise again. So he continued his journey on foot. At length he entered another wood—not a wild forest, but a civilized wood, through which a footpath led him to the side of a lake. Along this path the prince pursued his way through the gathering darkness. Suddenly he paused, and listened. Strange sounds came across the water. It was, in fact, the princess laughing. Now there was something odd in her laugh, as I have already hinted; for the hatching of a real hearty laugh requires the incubation of gravity; and perhaps this was how the prince mistook the laughter for screaming. Looking over the lake, he saw something white in the water; and, in an instant, he had torn off his tunic, kicked off his sandals, and plunged in. He soon reached the white object, and found that it was a woman. There was not light enough to show that she was a princess, but quite enough to show that she was a lady, for it does not want much light to see that.

Now I cannot tell how it came about,—whether she pretended to be drowning, or whether he frightened her, or caught her so as to embarrass her,—but certainly he brought her to shore in a fashion ignominious to a swimmer, and more nearly drowned than she had ever expected to be; for the water had got into her throat as often as she had tried to speak.

At the place to which he bore her, the bank was only a foot or two above the water; so he gave her a strong lift out of the water, to lay her on the bank. But, her gravitation ceasing the moment she left the water, away she went up into the air, scolding and screaming.

"You naughty, naughty, NAUGHTY, NAUGHTY man!" she cried.

No one had ever succeeded in putting her into a passion before.—When the prince saw her ascend, he thought he must have been bewitched, and have mistaken a great swan for a lady. But the princess caught hold of the topmost cone upon a lofty fir. This came off; but she caught at another; and, in fact, stopped herself by gathering cones, dropping them as the stalks gave way. The prince, meantime, stood in the water, staring, and forgetting to get out. But the princess disappearing, he scrambled on shore, and went in the direction of the tree. There he found her climbing down one of the branches towards the stem. But in the darkness of the wood, the prince continued in some bewilderment as to what the phenomenon could be; until, reaching the ground, and seeing him standing there, she caught hold of him, and said,—

"Oh no, you won't!" returned the prince.

"Yes, I will," she persisted. "What business had you to pull me down out of the water, and throw me to the bottom of the air? I never did you any harm."

"Pardon me. I did not mean to hurt you."

"I don't believe you have any brains; and that is a worse loss than your wretched gravity. I pity you."

The prince now saw that he had come upon the bewitched princess, and had already offended her. But before he could think what to say next, she burst out angrily, giving a stamp with her foot that would have sent her aloft again but for the hold she had of his arm,—

"Put you up where, you beauty?" asked the prince.

He had fallen in love with her almost, already; for her anger made her more charming than any one else had ever beheld her; and, as far as he could see, which certainly was not far, she had not a single fault about her, except, of course, that she had not any gravity. No prince, however, would judge of a princess by weight. The loveliness of her foot he would hardly estimate by the depth of the impression it could make in mud.

"Put you up where, you beauty?" asked the prince.

"In the water, you stupid!" answered the princess.

The condition of her dress, increasing her usual difficulty in walking, compelled her to cling to him; and he could hardly persuade himself that he was not in a delightful dream, notwithstanding the torrent of musical abuse with which she overwhelmed him. The prince being therefore in no hurry, they came upon the lake at quite another part, where the bank was twenty-five feet high at least; and when they had reached the edge, he turned towards the princess, and said,—

"How am I to put you in?" "That is your business," she answered, quite snappishly. "You took me out—put me in again."

"Very well," said the prince; and, catching her up in his arms, he sprang with her from the rock. The princess had just time to give one delighted shriek of laughter before the water closed over them. When they came to the surface, she found that, for a moment or two, she could not even laugh, for she had gone down with such a rush, that it was with difficulty she recovered her breath. The instant they reached the surface—

"How do you like falling in?" said the prince.

After some effort the princess panted out,—

"Is that what you call FALLING IN?"

"Yes," answered the prince, "I should think it a very tolerable specimen."

"It seemed to me like going up," rejoined she.

"My feeling was certainly one of elevation too," the prince conceded.

The princess did not appear to understand him, for she retorted his question:—

"How do YOU like falling in?" said the princess.

"Beyond everything," answered he; "for I have fallen in with the only perfect creature I ever saw."

"No more of that: I am tired of it," said the princess.

Perhaps she shared her father's aversion to punning.

"Don't you like falling in then?" said the prince.

"It is the most delightful fun I ever had in my life," answered she. "I never fell before. I wish I could learn. To think I am the only person in my father's kingdom that can't fall!"

Here the poor princess looked almost sad.

"I shall be most happy to fall in with you any time you like," said the prince, devotedly.

"Thank you. I don't know. Perhaps it would not be proper. But I don't care. At all events, as we have fallen in, let us have a swim together."

"With all my heart," responded the prince.

And away they went, swimming, and diving, and floating, until at last they heard cries along the shore, and saw lights glancing in all directions. It was now quite late, and there was no moon.

"I must go home," said the princess. "I am very sorry, for this is delightful."

"So am I," returned the prince. "But I am glad I haven't a home to go to—at least, I don't exactly know where it is."

"I wish I hadn't one either," rejoined the princess; "it is so stupid! I have a great mind," she continued, "to play them all a trick. Why couldn't they leave me alone? They won't trust me in the lake for a single night!—You see where that green light is burning? That is the window of my room. Now if you would just swim there with me very quietly, and when we are all but under the balcony, give me such a push—up you call it-as you did a little while ago, I should be able to catch hold of the balcony, and get in at the window; and then they may look for me till to-morrow morning!"

"With more obedience than pleasure," said the prince, gallantly; and away they swam, very gently.

"Will you be in the lake to-morrow night?" the prince ventured to ask.

"To be sure I will. I don't think so. Perhaps," was the princess's somewhat strange answer.

But the prince was intelligent enough not to press her further; and merely whispered, as he gave her the parting lift, "Don't tell."

The only answer the princess returned was a roguish look. She was already a yard above his head. The look seemed to say, "Never fear. It is too good fun to spoil that way."

So perfectly like other people had she been in the water, that even yet the prince could scarcely believe his eyes when he saw her ascend slowly, grasp the balcony, and disappear through the window. He turned, almost expecting to see her still by his side. But he was alone in the water. So he swam away quietly, and watched the lights roving about the shore for hours after the princess was safe in her chamber. As soon as they disappeared, he landed in search of his tunic and sword, and, after some trouble, found them again. Then he made the best of his way round the lake to the other side. There the wood was wilder, and the shore steeper-rising more immediately towards the mountains which surrounded the lake on all sides, and kept sending it messages of silvery streams from morning to night, and all night long. He soon found a spot whence he could see the green light in the princess's room, and where, even in the broad daylight, he would be in no danger of being discovered from the opposite shore. It was a sort of cave in the rock, where he provided himself a bed of withered leaves, and lay down too tired for hunger to keep him awake. All night

long he dreamed that he was swimming with the princess.

The Light Princess, George MacDonald

Extase

De cuando me enamoré de un film checo de los años 30

Hedy Lamarr

Aribert Mog

Julie Burchill

"He smiled as he fucked me, straight into my eyes (unfortunate construction of sentece there, but anyway) ..."

"I'll tell you a thing about marriage, shall I? When it goes wrong, you become less than human. You become a child. A wicked fairy. A saboteur. A poltergeist."

"Only the institution of marriage makes it possible for a woman to have a full-on fight with a man while her nipples are dripping with his saliva."