2014/11/05

no title


No sé bien quién eres hoy
de dónde llegas a diario
a dónde llegas

No sé si esos zapatos gastados
sucios de cemento
son tuyos
o si son sólo una fotografía

Me dices monosílabos
no entiendo bien a dónde quieres ir
si la noche sigue siendo tu motivo
o si el alcohol ha terminado de
inundar tus venas
con la heroína que a veces te inyectas

- sólo los jueves por la noche
si es que alguien tiene, te engañas

No sé si vistes tu piel de jaguar
o si te has convertido en polvo

No puedo saber
[no tengo forma de saber
si hoy sigues vivo
si sales a jugar con la luna
en tu jardín de tréboles incompletos

o si alguna mala yerba te ha consumido

Estar lejos es perderse de
todos estos detalles
de las respuestas a estas ansiedades

Estar lejos no se entiende
y todo se confunde entre
recuerdos inútiles de
épocas que están archivadas ya en
mi pasado que es ahora ajeno
y se narra en otro idioma

No sé dónde estás o
si el jerez de esa botella que
compartimos justamente detrás de
nuestro sueños prohibidos
sigue intacto

Cuándo cambia la luna llena?








2014/06/10

The Opposite of Loneliness

Reading The Opposite of Loneliness was a completely different experience. First of all because Marina's voice reached me through the texts I read about her. I knew little to nothing about a 22 year old with great promise that passed away in a car accident where she was the only passenger to lose their life.
22 is an age when everything starts -or ends. In her case I think it was both. The beginning of a life, the continuity of it - somehow - and her unexpected and too early departure.

What to say about the absolute beauty of her words? The tone and rhythm of each story; the characters (any of us) perfectly described and developed within each fiction.

She was genius. She opened many doors and windows in my brain and heart and allowed me to rethink my life, my entire life and my real purpose -if I may say.

Marina lived a life full of happiness or completeness. That's what I learned from her words. Those were part fiction, part reality. Anyway, they felt TRUE, like vivid emotions and feelings erupting from each of her pores.

If I think about not having the option to keep on reading her stories, about the fact that she will not write anything again, it makes me sad. However, and thinking about the present and to honour her, I had the chance to have read her, meet her (it's a way of saying something) and imagine her as well as feeling her so close while I held the book in my hands on my way to work/home every day during the last week.

I started reading Creativity Inc. by Ed Catmull when I found reviews of her book on Indigo's website (love-hate relationship that I have with this store as I always end up being impulsive and buying more and more books, almost compulsively, even though I know there's no more room in my apartment to store them). As soon as I started reading, I couldn't stop. I forgot all about Pixar, Steve Jobs and Ed's intentions to create animated films in a time where it was kind of out of this world or something like that.

My intentions of finding inspiration to be more creative and make my work environment better vanished between the pages of my new favourite book (and now, one of my fav authors ever...only after Marguerite Duras).

What captivated me? Her spirit, of course. And obviously the perfection in her writing. I don't like to exaggerate about authors or books, but this girl is something else. She has a powerful voice and such a strong management of the language. She uses these words in a very delicate way, making you feel them fly close to your ears. You can hear them; very well vocalized in a beautiful tone, sad some times and never with frustration or anger.

Stories...That's what she left as a legacy. Stories that you would love to grow into more books. I thought also about her parents all the time and her professors and friends. Are there more manuscripts? What about her poetry? I'm a writer myself - a poet - and feel very anxious about never finding a poetry book with her name on the cover.

I might call her parents and ask about that and also will tell them the magic she laid on me, how she inspired me to write again after a really long hibernation period. Today, I feel my imagination is bigger than before as well as my will to say what and how I feel in this world.

Of course I'm returning to Ed's. I could never leave that one without knowing how everything happened. I want to know how Buzz Light Year and the Cowboy came to life, and what inspired all those amazing animated films that I still enjoy. I also want to know how could I link it all together and bring the perfection of Marina's writing and the creativity of Ed's into my everyday life. Maybe it's not too complicated. Maybe it's just about letting things flow and being spontaneous, something that sometimes we lose for a lot of reasons, especially because we are too busy to be less stressed out about little things.

2013/11/01

Inmensidad anglo


la ciudad grande
enorme
que me devora a diario

es toronto o la paz o nueva york
es una inmensidad

un manicomio
un ajetreo


me traslado de un suburbio estéril
hasta esta vorágine de sonidos
imágenes
velocidades

bocinas
vapor
olores
escupitajos

basura
ricos
pobres

hombres y mujeres

negros
chinos
blancos
sudacas
hindúes


vivo
veo a diario
me contagio de

la paranoia

esquizofrenia

ganas de gritar y escapar
o saltar a las rieles del metro
así ...
...
...

es un impulso

o simplemente seguir cantando en mi cabeza:

ciudad de locos corazones
ciudad de pobres corazones
de corazones podridos
corazones llenos
lindos
radiantes



o mantener el diálogo interno
con todas las que soy
y los reproches:

no tomes café camila, es malo
no comas esto, estás gorda

no te vuelvas una máquina camila

siente
otra vez siente
como antes


esta ciudad es extraña
impersonal
automática
fría

llena de:

colores, pero fría
acentos, pero fría
comidas, pero fría

gente,pero súper fría


ciudad grande
enorme
de edificios tan altos
metros y tranvías
autos y bicicletas

ciudad de transitar a pie

mi ciudad inmensa
llena
adolorida de tantos cuerpos
tantos pasos
tantos cuentos.