De dentro cara afóra

31.12.07

O tempora, o mores...

Último día do ano.
A cousa pinta ben.
Hai plans e cans e furóns e roupa nova e arregladiña pero informal para a sesión etílica con que recibimos o ano novo.
Un último día de ano así non pode saír mal, nin defraudar.
De momento, a penúltima ducha do ano. E un paseíño pola néboa fría das rúas.

28.12.07

The Verve

Cos' it's a bittersweet symphony this life...
Trying to make ends meet , you're a slave to the money then you die.
I'll take you down the only road I've ever been down...
You know the one that takes you to the places where all the veins meet , yeah.
No change, I can't change, I can't change, I can't change,
but I'm here in my mold , I am here in my mold.
But I'm a million different people from one day to the next...
I can't change my mold, no, no, no, no, no, no, no

26.12.07

Por fin, e outra vez, saio de viaxe.

Outras paisaxes, outras voces, outras caras.

Outros poemas.

Outro aninovo lonxe de casa (adeus protocolos familiares!!).

Outro ano que se me cae a anacos.

24.12.07

Boas festas de Nadal
a todos os que estades
e aos que xa non están
aos que crestes en min sempre
e aos que non quixestes crer
hai un raseiro que nos fai a tod@s iguais
nestas datas
porque resulta que eu confío aínda en Rousseau

Ojos de Brujo - Ley de gravedad

Ley de gravedad...
No necesito tener alas pa volar
Ley de gravedad...
El viento gira y la veleta sigue igual

Resaca

Teño resaca.

Vou escribir un pouco máis, a ver se a disciplina me disipa as nubes do premio.

E que os deuses bendigan o invento do hipervínculo (se é que na normativa se mantén así o nome...).

22.12.07

Entrevista

Encántanme, pola súa capacidade de imaxinar, dúas profesións:

Unha é a de arqueólogo, porque a partir de pequenos fragmentos de cerámica pódese saber os hábitos amatorios dunha civilización completa, a alimentación (lóxico), a forma das vestimentas, se ía frío ou calor cando se formou o estrato, a cor dos ollos, a filosofía vital dos paisanos... (perdoade, amigos arqueólogos, os quiero).

Outra é a de periodista (perdoade os amigos periodistas que aínda me quedades a estas alturas do post): fas preguntas ás que o individuo contesta, e despois interpretas as súas respostas, como se foses protestante e leras unha pasaxe das Sagradas Escrituras.

Pois así máis ou menos como o dos protestantes (desculpas tamén a todos os protestantes do mundo) é o resultado da entrevista que me fixeron o outro día, por teléfono, claro, e mandando eu a foto, como cando tés que ir a facer cola de horas ó da poli polo carné de identidade (polo das colas do DNI da poli non pido desculpas, que son unha castaña...).

Tócate los cojones.

En fin.... Aí tendes o experimento.

(Mañá é a entrega e estou cagadiña de medo...)

21.12.07

Macaco -- Sideral

Athenea


Pásanseme os días en branco e sono. O bo diso (todo debería ter unha parte boa) é que cando durmo, ideo miles de cousas que despois, durante as horas que consigo estar esperta, intento escribir e compoñer.

O malo é que nunca pensei poder odiar tanto a comida, nin ter a língua tan solta, parezo unha inconsciente. Digo e fago o primeiro que se me ocorre, supoño que desinhibirse despois de tantos anos de síndrome de Estocolmo comigo mesma tiñan que ter unha escapatoria por algures. Son unha tola.
Pero todo vai tomando forma de novo (e ben): son un home espartano dentro do corpo dunha muller sensible e neurótica. Que complicado resulta mantelos ós dous satisfeitos. Aínda así,o plan non pode fallar.



18.12.07

Atopei outra versión de Augas de Março, interpretada por Jobim (mestre...) e Elis Regina. É realmente fermosa.

Podedes velo pinchando
aquí.

Elis Regina, Águas de Março

Pedro Guerra - De menos

El puente no alcanza,
el río es estrecho.
La lluvia es la trampa,
la lluvia es el cepo.
Camino deprisa,
ni busco, ni encuentro,
ni paso, ni quiero,
ni tengo, ni doy.

La calle cambió
su trayecto y no vuelve,
las normas distintas
son días sin verte.
Perdí las señales,
los horarios, los trenes.
Nostalgia es el verbo
que piensa en tu olor.

Y te echo de menos,
de menos, de menos,
espacio vacío
de mi corazón.

Noviembre se marcha
y nos deja hojas secas,
el mar son tejados,
alambres, antenas.
Me animo a olvidarte
en los días que llegan,
aunque hoy ha llovido
hay camisas al sol.

Y te echo de menos,
de menos, de menos,
espacio vacío
de mi corazón.

17.12.07

Moloko - The Time Is Now

You're my last breathe
You're a breathe of fresh air to me
Hi, I'm empty
So tell me you care for me

You're the first thing
And the last thing on my mind
In your arms I feel
Sunshine

16.12.07

Código Poético recibe recompensa

A pesar da miña tendencia natural ó pesimismo e a pesar de que nin sequera gañei un premio do super na miña vida enteira, onte o xurado do XX Premio de poesía "Eusebio Lorenzo Baleirón" decidiu que o meu primeiro poemario Código Poético era mínimamente dixerible e hala, que gañaba eu.

Ó final si vou ter algo que celebrar no día do meu cumpreanos, maldito universo conspirador!!


Déixovos o link da noticia (teño que mercar a prensa..., nunca se sabe se este será o primeiro ou o último...).
http://www.elcorreogallego.es/index.php?idMenu=130&idNoticia=243894

(Teño que aprender a facer iso de : para ler a nova, pincha aquí.)

15.12.07

Aniversario


Mañá é o meu aniversario (25). Para variar, este ano non penso celebralo.
Tampouco é que teña moitas cousas que celebrar.

Xa, se iso, outro día...

12.12.07

Pulsións distímicas

Ás veces, durmir ben, pensar ben e comer ben non resultan suficientes para colmar as nosas arelas nin adormece-los nosos sentidos, nin equilibrar o pragmático co sentimental.
Hai veces nas que un desexaría poder amputarse parte do corpo antes de ter que facer dano a calquera outro arredor ou a un mesmo. Ou da-la vida toda.

Pero facémolo. Aínda sabendo que a cicatriz supurará sempre e que non deixaremos de abrir nós mesmos a ferida unha e outra vez para recordarnos a dor. Para non repetila nunca ou para retroalimentarnos dela.
Hai veces nas que a treboada non quere escampar e se acomoda entre as nosas costelas e non nos deixa ulir, ver nin oir. Medran as hedras arredor do corazón e das mans e dos pés como cadeas que coartan a nosa liberdade condicionada.
Esas son as miñas incrustacións depresivo-distímicas. Esas cordas invisibles que me manexan contra min. Non podo cortalas aínda que constitúan a parte que menos me gusta do que son.
E sei que me van acompañar os anos que me queden aínda.

Non sei canta forza deberei ter para poder sobrevivirme.
Espero poder ter a suficiente.

Amy Winehouse -You Know I'm No Good

I cheated myself
Like I knew I would
I told ya, I was trouble
You know that I'm no good

Tears Dry on Their Own - Amy Winehouse

He walks away,
The sun goes down,
He takes the day but I am grown
And in your way,
My deep shade,
My tears dry on their own.

11.12.07

Manolo Garcia Nunca el tiempo es perdido

Cuando tú no estas las mañanas se tiñen de canciones tristes,
son como el leve perfume que por un instante te baña y te marca.
Cuando tú no estas las mañanas se tiñen de canciones tristes.
Rastro, huella de los pasos errantes,
del buscador de señales
nunca el tiempo es perdido
es sólo un recodo más en nuestra ilusión ávida de olvido
nunca el tiempo es perdido
nunca el tiempo es perdido
es sólo un recodo más en nuestra ilusión ávida de cariño
nunca el tiempo es perdido
nunca el tiempo es perdido
Cuando regresas las mañanas levantan el vuelo
quizá es el momento de la brisa suave
que acaricia con tu llegada hasta tu partida.
Si regresas las mañanas se visten de alegres canciones.
se disfrazan de sonrisas,
son el hálito justo que apaciguara el pulso.
Son la broma o la mano del destino.
Si tú regresas las mañanas se visten de alegres canciones.
Rastro, huella de mi búsqueda errante,
que sin ti no encuentro señales
nunca el tiempo es perdido
es sólo un recodo más en nuestra ilusión ávida de olvido
nunca el tiempo es perdido
nunca el tiempo es perdido
es sólo un recodo más en nuestra ilusión ávida de cariño
nunca el tiempo es perdido
nunca el tiempo es perdido

INSURRECCION

8.12.07

Björk - Hidden Place

Through the warmthest
Cord of care
Your love was sent to me

I'm not sure
What to do with it
Or where to put it

I'm so close to tears
And so close to
Simply calling you up
I'm simply suggesting

We go to the hidden place
That we go to the hidden place
We go to the hidden place
We go to a hidden place

Now I have
Been slightly shy
And I can smell a pinch of hope
To almost have allowed once fingers
To stroke
The fingers I was given to touch with
But careful, careful
There lies my passion, hidden
There lies my love
I'll hide it under a blanket
Lull it to sleep

I'll keep it in a hidden place
I'll keep it in a hidden place
Keep it in a hidden place
Keep it in a hidden place

He's the beautifullest
Fragilest
Still strong
Dark and divine
And the littleness of his movements
Hides himself
He invents a charm that makes him invisible
Hides in the air
Can I hide there too?
Hide in the air of him
Seek solace
Sanctuary

In the hidden place
In a hidden place
In a hidden place
We'll stay in a hidden place
Ooohh in a hidden place
We'll live in a hidden place
We'll be in a hidden place
In a hidden place

Temporal

Hai días nos que un só desexa escoitar e ceder a palabra.Deitarse na cama coas mans debaixo da caluga e mirar ó teito.


Perdón se se vos fan moitos videos xuntos e se a selección musical tampouco vos resulta axeitada.

Fóra chove e vai vento e frío.
Dentro tamén.

The Fray - How To Save A Life (Version #2)

Step one you say we need to talk
He walks you say sit down it's just a talk
He smiles politely back at you
You stare politely right on through
Some sort of window to your right
As he goes left and you stay right
Between the lines of fear and blame
You begin to wonder why you came

Where did I go wrong, I lost a friend
Somewhere along in the bitterness
And I would have stayed up with you all night
Had I known how to save a life

Let him know that you know best
Cause after all you do know best
Try to slip past his defense
Without granting innocence
Lay down a list of what is wrong
The things you've told him all along
And pray to God he hears you
And pray to God he hears you

Where did I go wrong, I lost a friend
Somewhere along in the bitterness
And I would have stayed up with you all night
Had I known how to save a life

As he begins to raise his voice
You lower yours and grant him one last choice
Drive until you lose the road
Or break with the ones you've followed
He will do one of two things
He will admit to everything
Or he'll say he's just not the same
And you'll begin to wonder why you came

Where did I go wrong, I lost a friend
Somewhere along in the bitterness
And I would have stayed up with you all night
Had I known how to save a life

Where did I go wrong, I lost a friend
Somewhere along in the bitterness
And I would have stayed up with you all night
Had I known how to save a life
How to save a life
How to save a life

Where did I go wrong, I lost a friend
Somewhere along in the bitterness
And I would have stayed up with you all night
Had I known how to save a life

Where did I go wrong, I lost a friend
Somewhere along in the bitterness
And I would have stayed up with you all night
Had I known how to save a life
How to save a life

By Your Side

you think i'd leave your side baby
you know me better than that
you think i'd leave you down when you're down on your knees
i wouldn't do that
i'll tell you you're right when you want
and if only you could see into me
ha ah ah ah ah ah

oh when you're cold
i'll be there
hold you tight to me

when you're on the outside baby and you can`t get in
i will show you you're so much better than you know
when you're lost and you're alone and you cant get back again
i will find you darling and i will bring you home

and if you want to cry
i am here to dry your eyes
and in no time
you'll be fine

you think i'd leave your side baby
you know me better than that
you think id leave you down when you're down on your knees
i wouldn't do that
i'll tell you you're right when you want
and if only you could see into me
ha ah ah ah ah ah

oh when you're cold
i'll be there
hold you tight to me
when you're low
i'll be there
by your side baby

oh when you're cold
i'll be there
hold you tight to me
oh when you're low
i'll be there
by your side baby





6.12.07

The Universal Blur

This is the next century
Where the universals free
You can find it anywhere
Yes, the futures been sold
Every night were gone
And to karaoke songs
How we like to sing along
though the words are wrong

It really, really, really could happen
Yes, it really, really, really could happen
When the days they seem to fall through you
Well, just let them go

No-one here is alone
Satellites in every home
Yes, the universals here
Here for everyone
Every paper that you read
Says tomorrows your lucky day
Well, heres your lucky day

It really, really, really could happen
Yes, it really, really, really could happen
If the days they seem to fall through you
Well, just let them go

SHERYL CROW - Everyday Is A Winding Road (1996)

"Every Day Is A Winding Road"

I hitched a ride with a vending machine repair man
He says he's been down this road more than twice
He was high on intellectualism
I've never been there but the brochure looks nice
Jump in, let's go
Lay back, enjoy the show
Everybody gets high, everybody gets low,
These are the days when anything goes

[Chorus]
Everyday is a winding road
I get a little bit closer
Everyday is a faded sign
I get a little bit closer to feeling fine

He's got a daughter he calls Easter
She was born on a Tuesday night
I'm just wondering why I feel so all alone
Why I'm a stranger in my own life
Jump in, let's go
Lay back, enjoy the show
Everybody gets high, everybody gets low
These are the days when anything goes

[Chorus]

I've been swimming in a sea of anarchy
I've been living on coffee and nicotine
I've been wondering if all the things I've seen
Were ever real, were ever really happening

[Chorus]

5.12.07

Virus e outras incidencias técnicas

Pois si, xa chegou o outono ó meu organismo, quen o diría. Este tempo tolo.

Son un despoxo de ser humano con voz de home sen querela, con mocos e outros fluídos menos aconsellables causados presuntamente por unha lexión de virus asasinos ós que ninguén convidou á festa hilarante na que se veu convertendo a miña vida dende hai xa bastantes meses.

Non pasa nada: a pílula da felicidade fai todo pasaxeiro.

Teño a desculpa perfecta para quedar na caloriña da cama debaixo do nórdico e ler e escribir sen que me molesten.

Xa son completamente eremita, pero sen a erudición e cas pernas depiladas.
Viva a soidade!!

Promesas que no valen nada - Los piratas