This weekend I had dinner with a new friend. Here is the story of how I ended up with this guy on a Friday night:
This guy, a friend of Vero’s from high school, is a photographer and after having been thoroughly impressed by an exposition of his I went to in Chueca a few weeks back, I decided that I must have one of his photos. Not only are they awesome, but they are also affordable. They are all different photos of Madrid, done in a most peculiar fashion: he took the same photo three times throughout a cloudy day, and then layered each on top of one another. Thus, they deceivingly appear to be paintings. I chose the one of Madrid’s "rastro"--the giant flee market that goes down every Sunday morning. I am really excited, as this is my very first original work of art I am purchasing for myself.
Anyway, late in the night, checking the time, I asked why he didn’t wear a watch. I don’t normally ask people this, but after spending the evening together I noted him to be an extremely organized person, and was thus surprised to hear that he has never given into this habit (if you can call it that), on principal. He told me to read this story, Instrucciones para dar cuerda al reloj, by Argentine writer Julio Cortazar, and then I would understand why.
So I went to the library, thrilled to use my new card, in search of this piece of literature. I found it in a small collection of Cortazar stories, many of which offer other bits of insight and instructions on life (such as how to cry--an act that, on average, should last 3 minutes). And I suppose I now understand, thanks to the wonderfully poetic words of Cortazar, how my friend feels about this seemingly innocent adornment--that it can indeed morph into a monster. Life is far too short to be a slave to time, counting minutes and waiting for the end to finally come. I particularly enjoyed the preamble, which names the gift of a watch a “tiny flowering hell”—a responsibility that will eventually eat one’s time away.
I wear a Skagen Denmark leather strapped watch (a Christmas gift from my sister a few years back), and I wear it religiously. I like to think that I am not dependent on it, but the truth is—a day that I forget to put it on is like 3 days spent with out sleep: I go crazy. I’ll occasionally glance down at my left wrist, only to feel a twinge of regret; later on, holding the feeble thing, I’ll trick my mind into thinking my constant companion is really there.
But despite this pathetic truth, I defend my addiction, and the following is my reasoning. While I agree with Cortazar, I cannot help but find his theory a bit too drastic. What would life be, if we had no sense of time? I’m sure I would become an existentialist, never knowing when it could possibly end, nor when it began. It was not modern culture who invented the concept of time—it is something that has been a part of nature since the first sun rose and set, before humans were even around to understand it all. How could we possibly appreciate the 10 minutes spent dozing in bed before finally getting up, or at the other end of the spectrum…the fact that it takes nearly 42 weeks (7056 hours if we are talking watch time) for a human fetus to develop and enter the world?
So you get it…time is a wonderful thing. It’s a shame we don’t have more of it, but that’s not the point. The point is, Julio, that only the weak, the unappreciative ones, the ones without the spark of life, can possibly become slaves to an object as endearing as a watch. This is my theory at least.
I am nearly always late, and this gives me no stress. More often than not, the long hand is reprimanding me, with the punishment of five to ten ticks ahead—but this rarely ever phases me. Sometimes, just to show who’s boss, I set it a few minutes ahead. Then, even though my watch tells me I’m late, I am actually right on time. And that´s how I wind my watch.
This guy, a friend of Vero’s from high school, is a photographer and after having been thoroughly impressed by an exposition of his I went to in Chueca a few weeks back, I decided that I must have one of his photos. Not only are they awesome, but they are also affordable. They are all different photos of Madrid, done in a most peculiar fashion: he took the same photo three times throughout a cloudy day, and then layered each on top of one another. Thus, they deceivingly appear to be paintings. I chose the one of Madrid’s "rastro"--the giant flee market that goes down every Sunday morning. I am really excited, as this is my very first original work of art I am purchasing for myself.
Anyway, late in the night, checking the time, I asked why he didn’t wear a watch. I don’t normally ask people this, but after spending the evening together I noted him to be an extremely organized person, and was thus surprised to hear that he has never given into this habit (if you can call it that), on principal. He told me to read this story, Instrucciones para dar cuerda al reloj, by Argentine writer Julio Cortazar, and then I would understand why.
So I went to the library, thrilled to use my new card, in search of this piece of literature. I found it in a small collection of Cortazar stories, many of which offer other bits of insight and instructions on life (such as how to cry--an act that, on average, should last 3 minutes). And I suppose I now understand, thanks to the wonderfully poetic words of Cortazar, how my friend feels about this seemingly innocent adornment--that it can indeed morph into a monster. Life is far too short to be a slave to time, counting minutes and waiting for the end to finally come. I particularly enjoyed the preamble, which names the gift of a watch a “tiny flowering hell”—a responsibility that will eventually eat one’s time away.
I wear a Skagen Denmark leather strapped watch (a Christmas gift from my sister a few years back), and I wear it religiously. I like to think that I am not dependent on it, but the truth is—a day that I forget to put it on is like 3 days spent with out sleep: I go crazy. I’ll occasionally glance down at my left wrist, only to feel a twinge of regret; later on, holding the feeble thing, I’ll trick my mind into thinking my constant companion is really there.
But despite this pathetic truth, I defend my addiction, and the following is my reasoning. While I agree with Cortazar, I cannot help but find his theory a bit too drastic. What would life be, if we had no sense of time? I’m sure I would become an existentialist, never knowing when it could possibly end, nor when it began. It was not modern culture who invented the concept of time—it is something that has been a part of nature since the first sun rose and set, before humans were even around to understand it all. How could we possibly appreciate the 10 minutes spent dozing in bed before finally getting up, or at the other end of the spectrum…the fact that it takes nearly 42 weeks (7056 hours if we are talking watch time) for a human fetus to develop and enter the world?
So you get it…time is a wonderful thing. It’s a shame we don’t have more of it, but that’s not the point. The point is, Julio, that only the weak, the unappreciative ones, the ones without the spark of life, can possibly become slaves to an object as endearing as a watch. This is my theory at least.
I am nearly always late, and this gives me no stress. More often than not, the long hand is reprimanding me, with the punishment of five to ten ticks ahead—but this rarely ever phases me. Sometimes, just to show who’s boss, I set it a few minutes ahead. Then, even though my watch tells me I’m late, I am actually right on time. And that´s how I wind my watch.
Below find the texts, in English and Spanish.
Preámbulo a las instrucciones para dar cuerda al reloj
Piensa en esto: cuando te regalan un reloj te regalan un pequeño infierno florido, una cadena de rosas, un calabozo de aire. No te dan solamente el reloj, que los cumplas muy felices y esperamos que te dure porque es de buena marca, suizo con áncora de rubíes; no te regalan solamente ese menudo picapedrero que te atarás a la muñeca y pasearás contigo. Te regalan -no lo saben, lo terrible es que no lo saben-, te regalan un nuevo pedazo frágil y precario de ti mismo, algo que es tuyo pero no es tu cuerpo, que hay que atar a tu cuerpo con su correa como un bracito desesperado colgándose de tu muñeca. Te regalan la necesidad de darle cuerda todos los días, la obligación de darle cuerda para que siga siendo un reloj; te regalan la obsesión de atender a la hora exacta en las vitrinas de las joyerías, en el anuncio por la radio, en el servicio telefónico. Te regalan el miedo de perderlo, de que te lo roben, de que se te caiga al suelo y se rompa. Te regalan su marca, y la seguridad de que es una marca mejor que las otras, te regalan la tendencia de comparar tu reloj con los demás relojes. No te regalan un reloj, tú eres el regalado, a ti te ofrecen para el cumpleaños del reloj.
Instrucciones para dar cuerda al reloj
Allá al fondo está la muerte, pero no tenga miedo. Sujete el reloj con una mano, tome con dos dedos la llave de la cuerda, remóntela suavemente. Ahora se abre otro plazo, los árboles despliegan sus hojas, las barcas corren regatas, el tiempo como un abanico se va llenando de sí mismo y de él brotan el aire, las brisas de la tierra, la sombra de una mujer, el perfume del pan.
¿Qué más quiere, qué más quiere? Átelo pronto a su muñeca, déjelo latir en libertad, imítelo anhelante. El miedo herrumbra las áncoras, cada cosa que pudo alcanzarse y fue olvidada va corroyendo las venas del reloj, gangrenando la fría sangre de sus rubíes. Y allá en el fondo está la muerte si no corremos y llegamos antes y comprendemos que ya no importa.
Preamble to the instructions on how to wind a watch
Think of this: when they present you with a watch, they are gifting you with a tiny flowering hell, a wreath of roses, a dungeon of air. They aren't simply wishing the watch on you, and many more, and we hope it will last you, it's a good grand, Swiss, seventeen rubies; they aren't just giving you this minute stonecutter which will bind you by the wrist and walk along with you. They are giving you - they don't know it, it's terrible that they don't know it - they are gifting you with a new fragile and precarious piece of yourself, something that's yours but not a part of your body, that you have to strap to your body like your belt, like a tiny, furious bit of something hanging onto your wrist. They gift you with the job of having to wind it every day, an obligation to wind it, so that it goes on being a watch, they gift you with the obsession of looking into jewelry-shop windows to check the exact time, check the radio announcer, check the telephone service. They give you the gift of fear, someone will steal it from you, it'll fall on the street and get broken. They give you the gift of your trademark and the assurance that it's a trademark better than others, they gift you with the impulse to compare your watch with other watches. They aren't giving you a watch, you are the gift, they are giving you yourself for the watch's birthday.
Piensa en esto: cuando te regalan un reloj te regalan un pequeño infierno florido, una cadena de rosas, un calabozo de aire. No te dan solamente el reloj, que los cumplas muy felices y esperamos que te dure porque es de buena marca, suizo con áncora de rubíes; no te regalan solamente ese menudo picapedrero que te atarás a la muñeca y pasearás contigo. Te regalan -no lo saben, lo terrible es que no lo saben-, te regalan un nuevo pedazo frágil y precario de ti mismo, algo que es tuyo pero no es tu cuerpo, que hay que atar a tu cuerpo con su correa como un bracito desesperado colgándose de tu muñeca. Te regalan la necesidad de darle cuerda todos los días, la obligación de darle cuerda para que siga siendo un reloj; te regalan la obsesión de atender a la hora exacta en las vitrinas de las joyerías, en el anuncio por la radio, en el servicio telefónico. Te regalan el miedo de perderlo, de que te lo roben, de que se te caiga al suelo y se rompa. Te regalan su marca, y la seguridad de que es una marca mejor que las otras, te regalan la tendencia de comparar tu reloj con los demás relojes. No te regalan un reloj, tú eres el regalado, a ti te ofrecen para el cumpleaños del reloj.
Instrucciones para dar cuerda al reloj
Allá al fondo está la muerte, pero no tenga miedo. Sujete el reloj con una mano, tome con dos dedos la llave de la cuerda, remóntela suavemente. Ahora se abre otro plazo, los árboles despliegan sus hojas, las barcas corren regatas, el tiempo como un abanico se va llenando de sí mismo y de él brotan el aire, las brisas de la tierra, la sombra de una mujer, el perfume del pan.
¿Qué más quiere, qué más quiere? Átelo pronto a su muñeca, déjelo latir en libertad, imítelo anhelante. El miedo herrumbra las áncoras, cada cosa que pudo alcanzarse y fue olvidada va corroyendo las venas del reloj, gangrenando la fría sangre de sus rubíes. Y allá en el fondo está la muerte si no corremos y llegamos antes y comprendemos que ya no importa.
Preamble to the instructions on how to wind a watch
Think of this: when they present you with a watch, they are gifting you with a tiny flowering hell, a wreath of roses, a dungeon of air. They aren't simply wishing the watch on you, and many more, and we hope it will last you, it's a good grand, Swiss, seventeen rubies; they aren't just giving you this minute stonecutter which will bind you by the wrist and walk along with you. They are giving you - they don't know it, it's terrible that they don't know it - they are gifting you with a new fragile and precarious piece of yourself, something that's yours but not a part of your body, that you have to strap to your body like your belt, like a tiny, furious bit of something hanging onto your wrist. They gift you with the job of having to wind it every day, an obligation to wind it, so that it goes on being a watch, they gift you with the obsession of looking into jewelry-shop windows to check the exact time, check the radio announcer, check the telephone service. They give you the gift of fear, someone will steal it from you, it'll fall on the street and get broken. They give you the gift of your trademark and the assurance that it's a trademark better than others, they gift you with the impulse to compare your watch with other watches. They aren't giving you a watch, you are the gift, they are giving you yourself for the watch's birthday.
Instructions on how to wind a watch
Death stands there in the background, but don't be afraid. Hold the watch down with one hand, take the stem in two fingers, and rotate it smoothly. Now another installment of time opens, trees spread their leaves, boats run races, like a fan time continues filling with itself, and from that burgeon the air, the breezes of earth, the shadow of a woman, the sweet smell of bread.What did you expect, what more do you want? Quickly, strap it to your wrist, let it tick away in freedom, imitate it greedily. Fear will rust all the rubies, everything that could happen to it and was forgotten is about to corrode the watch's veins, cankering the cold blood and its tiny rubies. And death is there in the background, we must run to arrive beforehand and understand it's already unimportant.
Death stands there in the background, but don't be afraid. Hold the watch down with one hand, take the stem in two fingers, and rotate it smoothly. Now another installment of time opens, trees spread their leaves, boats run races, like a fan time continues filling with itself, and from that burgeon the air, the breezes of earth, the shadow of a woman, the sweet smell of bread.What did you expect, what more do you want? Quickly, strap it to your wrist, let it tick away in freedom, imitate it greedily. Fear will rust all the rubies, everything that could happen to it and was forgotten is about to corrode the watch's veins, cankering the cold blood and its tiny rubies. And death is there in the background, we must run to arrive beforehand and understand it's already unimportant.
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