oda al gato

Lovely ode by Pablo Neruda.

Oh, how I yearn for JoJo and her stately ways, when I ponder his opening words, that all animals were imperfect in the beginning, except the cat.

What other creature is so divine, so perfect, that evolution was completely unnecessary? Who else can boast that their creation was done right on the very first try?

English translation here.

Los animales fueron

imperfectos,

largos de cola, tristes

de cabeza.

Poco a poco se fueron

componiendo,

haciéndose paisaje,

adquiriendo lunares, gracia, vuelo.

El gato,

sólo el gato

apareció completo

y orgulloso:

nació completamente terminado,

camina solo y sabe lo que quiere.

El hombre quiere ser pescado y pájaro,

la serpiente quisiera tener alas,

el perro es un león desorientado,

el ingeniero quiere ser poeta,

la mosca estudia para golondrina,

el poeta trata de imitar la mosca,

pero el gato

quiere ser sólo gato

y todo gato es gato

desde bigote a cola,

desde presentimiento a rata viva,

desde la noche hasta sus ojos de oro.

No hay unidad

como él,

no tienen

la luna ni la flor

tal contextura:

es una sola cosa

como el sol o el topacio,

y la elástica línea en su contorno

firme y sutil es como

la línea de la proa de una nave.

Sus ojos amarillos

dejaron una sola

ranura

para echar las monedas de la noche.

Oh pequeño

emperador sin orbe,

conquistador sin patria,

mínimo tigre de salón, nupcial

sultán del cielo

de las tejas eróticas,

el viento del amor

en la intemperie

reclamas

cuando pasas

y posas

cuatro pies delicados

en el suelo,

oliendo,

desconfiando

de todo lo terrestre,

porque todo

es inmundo

para el inmaculado pie del gato.

Oh fiera independiente

de la casa, arrogante

vestigio de la noche,

perezoso, gimnástico

y ajeno,

profundísimo gato,

policía secreta

de las habitaciones,

insignia

de un

desaparecido terciopelo,

seguramente no hay

enigma

en tu manera,

tal vez no eres misterio,

todo el mundo te sabe y perteneces

al habitante menos misterioso,

tal vez todos lo creen,

todos se creen dueños,

propietarios, tíos

de gatos, compañeros,

colegas,

discípulos o amigos

de su gato.

Yo no.

Yo no suscribo.

Yo no conozco al gato.

Todo lo sé, la vida y su archipiélago,

el mar y la ciudad incalculable,

la botánica,

el gineceo con sus extravíos,

el por y el menos de la matemática,

los embudos volcánicos del mundo,

la cáscara irreal del cocodrilo,

la bondad ignorada del bombero,

el atavismo azul del sacerdote,

pero no puedo descifrar un gato.

Mi razón resbaló en su indiferencia,

sus ojos tienen números de oro.

a gramita story

I am thinking of my grandma Gloria, and I am thinking of a trip I took to Tierra del Fuego, a province of Argentina, during my time abroad there.

Specifically, I visited the capital Ushuaia, a place also known as "the bottom of the earth", a fitting nickname, it being the southernmost city in the world.

They say that upon the descent of the airplane, you can actually witness this effect...that the world appears to just drop off the edge.

But come on people, Johnny Depp isn't my lover nor is the world flat. I will concede, however, that it was a lovely sight from my window-seat, and I think I took a few bad pictures that I will dig up now so that you can see what the bottom of the world looks like:

Anyway, back to Gloria. Upon hearing of my travel plans, she briefly returned to a time long gone, she was probably even younger than my current 23 years, when engaged to be married to my grandpa, a one dashing Arturo Lanza. Here they are circa 1950, the two on the left with Tia Edna, props to cousin Sonita for the picture:

Arturo worked for Ford Enterprises in Bolivia and this snazzy job had him traveling quite a bit around his part of the Americas. During one of these many business trips, perhaps to Buenos Aires or Santiago, Gloria met a man on a train, who, for whatever reason, greatly struck her fancy. Of course, she was engaged at the time, and judging by the picture above, not the type to up and abandon her responsibilities as a woman of the times. Thus, she declined this mysterious man's offer to run away with her to Tierra del Fuego, Argentina, his homeland from which, traveling in Bolivia, he felt so far away.

Gloria thought of this mysterious train man decades later when the words "Tierra del Fuego" were passed across the phone line, and couldn't help but wonder if her Argentine heartthrob still existed.. if perhaps, he too, was a widower like herself. She would have liked to know such things, and she would have liked my inquiring of his whereabouts during my stance in the province. His name I don't remember in the slightest, it was something like Rodrigo Torres, but the point is that there was a name, and she was serious about the request.

These meditations were shared with my mother who then, of course, related them to me. We had a good chuckle at gramita's naivete, that the world might be so small as it was back then.

I, like Gloria, was quite naive though as well. What little faith I put in the power of memory and the odds of pure chance. I didn't mention the name to a single Patagonian barman, and there were many. I sort of regret this, but not too much because I was young and foolish! Really...19 seems centuries ago in terms of foolishness.

Obviously the older I get, the wiser I should become. It is not naive, come to think of it, to believe in destiny and coincidence, because I'm starting to see that stranger things happen every day. And thank God for these weird coincidences, I don't know if I could get on with life without a little magic along the way...

tuesday morning

"A macabre a dangerous Pinnochio"? I'll take it!

Thank you, Guillermo del Toro, for your divine fusion of sinister and fairytale. The original movie sort of scared me already as a child, and I love trying my best to resurrect these feelings as an adult. With Gris Grimly and Jim Henson in their respective places on the production line, there are far too many pros behind this project for it to go wrong.

like bill cosby said...

I´m at school on break and little Briana of the second grade just asked me at the beginning of class: "Puedo salir afuera de clase para tirar un pedo?" Translation: "Can I go outside the classroom to fart?"

What fine manners for a seven year old!

P.S.

Laundry in Spain sucks. I would shame Señora Almendros with the fatal that is my laundry-doing. Maybe even Pilar might slightly drop her jaw if she saw, for example, my mishap foldings.. wrinkly shirts that are scarcely worn for this very reason... many garments inside out. By many I mean most. Oh well, it is what it is. I know even when I am a real adult, that is, when I start ironing things, I'll still never iron the underwear.

And this brings me back to a funny memory from last spring. It was the Saturday of Carnaval and Veronica and I went to Getafe to eat and then "maquillar" Isabela and Alex for the parties. She had forgotten a lot of material or something so we decided to run back to Parla to get it after lunch. Alex and Isabela were all jazzed up for the fiestas and we thought, Why not bring them over for the quick errand? They had never seen our apartment or met the cats, which was really the most exciting aspect of all.

The place was a pretty big dump in all spaces: sink full of dirty dishes, coffee table littered with wrappers or crumbs or half-full glasses of water, beds unmade and things, in general, thrown around. We weren't expecting company, and the kids were surprised...they only really know real organization and tidiness.

More than anything I remember Isabela's face...her enormous dark eyes wide in shock. I remember the biggest confusion of all was when I led her in to my room to show her the stellar job I did painting it purple. She took one look at my wardrobe that was a spilling disaster of clothes, an abandoned tornado scene, and was puzzled in amazement. How could I live like this? Haha, she is one NEAT girl. Which is funny, and so typical. We are all our mother's daughters, I suppose.

But forget the mess, February may have been a tough month for Curro and his hormonal antics. Isabela and Alex were probably most taken aback by that damn cat stink. Of course, we were used to it and really didn't notice a thing. But for them? I think those kids might have been thoroughly convinced in those 10 minutes that they do NOT want a cat. You're welcome, Aunt and Uncle.

dancin in the rain

I realize I talk about weather a lot, and you know what? That's fine. It's really just a myth made up by some cynical asshole hipsters or something that weather is a boring topic of conversation. How could it be true, when we are universally subject to its happenings?

Last week everyone was in euphoria thanks to the beautifully warm and sunny days around here. But oh wait. As if the air wasn't bad enough in Madrid, a "bubble" of thick, filthy air just settled right over the city, sending contamination rates soaring. The warm, still atmosphere was rampant with befouled particles. Many people didn't get to enjoy it much, last week was tough for these folks as the common cold spread like wildfire. Those who could frolic about the city, well, it was bitter-sweet. The helpless sun beckoned us to enjoy the fresh air, which was so far from fresh you could feel it in your dirty lungs.

The rain finally came today and surely did something to clean the air a bit. I was thinking of this wonderful children's book, Bringing the Rain to Kapiti Plain, by Verna Aardema. A bit lengthy I know, but just read it aloud to yourself and enjoy a few minutes of culminating rhymes and rhythm:

This is the great Kapiti Plain,

All fresh and green from the African rains—

A sea of grass for the ground birds to nest in,

And patches of shade for wild creatures to rest in;

With acacia trees for giraffes to browse on,

And grass for the herdsmen to pasture their cows on.

But one year the rains were so very belated,

That all of the big wild creatures migrated.

Then Ki-pat helped to end that terrible drought—

And this story tells how it all came about!

This is the cloud,

All heavy with rain,

That shadowed the ground on Kapiti Plain.

This is the grass,

All brown and dead,

That needed the rain from the cloud overhead—

The big, black cloud,

All heavy with rain,

That shadowed the ground on Kapiti Plain.

These are the cows,

All hungry and dry,

Who mooed for the rain to fall from the sky;

To green-up the grass,

All brown and dead,

That needed the rain from the cloud overhead—

The big, black cloud,

All heavy with rain,

That shadowed the ground on Kapiti Plain.

This is Ki-pat,

Who watched his herd as he stood on one leg,

Like the big stork bird;

Ki-pat, whose cows were so hungry and dry,

They mooed for the rain to fall from the sky;

To green-up the grass,

All brown and dead,

That needed the rain from the cloud overhead—

The big, black cloud,

All heavy with rain,

That shadowed the ground on Kapiti Plain.

This is the eagle who dropped a feather,

A feather that helped to change the weather.

It fell near Ki-pat,

Who watched his herd

As he stood on one leg, like the big stork bird;

Ki-pat, whose cows

were so hungry and dry,

They mooed for the rain to fall from the sky;

To green-up the grass,

All brown and dead,

That needed the rain from the cloud overhead—

The big, black cloud,

All heavy with rain,

That shadowed the ground on Kapiti Plain.

This is the arrow

Ki-pat put together,

With a slender stick and an eagle feather;

From the eagle who happened

To drop a feather,

A feather that helped to change the weather.

It fell near Ki-pat,

Who watched his herd

As he stood on one leg, like the big stork bird;

Ki-pat, whose cows

Were so hungry and dry,

They mooed for the rain to fall from the sky;

To green-up the grass,

All brown and dead,

That needed the rain from the cloud overhead—

The big, black cloud,

All heavy with rain,

That shadowed the ground on Kapiti Plain.

This is the bow,

So long and strong,

And strung with a string, a leather thong;

A bow for the arrow

Ki-pat put together,

With a slender stick and an eagle feather;

From the eagle,

Who happened to drop a feather,

A feather that helped to change the weather.

It fell near Ki-pat,

Who watched his herd

As he stood on one leg, like a big stork bird;

Ki-pat, whose cows

Were so hungry and dry

They mooed for the rain to fall from the sky;

To green-up the grass,

All brown and dead,

That needed the rain from the cloud overhead—

The big, black cloud,

All heavy with rain,

That shadowed the ground on Kapiti Plain.

This was the shot

That pierced the cloud

And loosed the rain with thunder LOUD!

A shot from the bow,

So long and strong,

And strung with a string, a leather thong;

A bow for the arrow

Ki-pat put together,

With a slender stick and an eagle feather;

From the eagle who happened

To drop a feather,

A feather that helped to change the weather.

It fell near Ki-pat,

Who watched his herd

As he stood on one leg, like the big stork bird;

Ki-pat, whose cows

Were so hungry and dry,

They mooed for the rain to fall from the sky;

To green-up the grass,

All brown and dead,

That needed the rain from the cloud overhead—

The big, black cloud,

All heavy with rain,

That shadowed the ground on Kapiti Plain.

So the grass grew green,

And the cattle fat!

And Ki-pat got a wife

And a little Ki-pat—

Who tends the cows now,

And shoots down the rain,

When black clouds shadow Kapiti Plain.

seasonal depression..

...EAT MY SHORTS!

Hello 60 degrees, sunny skies, and happening city. Has spring already arrived?! Is it here to stay?! Is there a God, and does he want us to be happy?! COULD IT BE TRUE?!

story of my life

El Columpio (The Swing)

Álvaro Fernández Armero

Sorry, I couldn't find English subtitles! You might recognize the actress from Pan's Labyrinth.

Anyway, it sort of disheartens me thinking about all the lonely people out there. Why are we such lonely people?!

Stop pretending to be so dégagé about that stranger you've been eyeing on your morning commute.

Try growing some balls and saying something beyond "how are you" to the cute barista at your coffee shop.

Don't wait til the last second to ask for my number on the metro just as the doors are closing in our desperate faces!

Or, we could all continue being cowards, reading the craigslist "missed connections" page to ease the pain, whilst pondering the utterly heartbreaking truth about our kind: in the end, we are all alone!