Tonight I´m gonna dream of tomatoes
I´m tired of games and darkness
nose bleeding and words
I´m tired of people
acting like they were on screen.
Joanna Newsom´s gonna cook for me
I´m tired..
Tonight I´m gonna dream of tomatoes

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZuRWrXWM-mA

This is a crisis I knew had to come,
Destroying the balance I'd kept.
Doubting, unsettling and turning around,
Wondering what will come next.
Is this the role that you wanted to live?
I was foolish to ask for so much.
Without the protection and infancy's guard,
It all falls apart at first touch.

Watching the reel as it comes to a close,
Brutally taking it's time,
People who change for no reason at all,
It's happening all of the time.

Can I go on with this train of events?
Disturbing and purging my mind,
Back out of my duties, when all's said and done,
I know that I'll lose every time.

Moving along in our God given ways,
Safety is sat by the fire,
Sanctuary from these feverish smiles,
Left with a mark on the door,
Is this the gift that I wanted to give?
Forgive and forget's what they teach,
Or pass through the deserts and wastelands once more,
And watch as they drop by the beach.

This is the crisis I knew had to come,
Destroying the balance I'd kept,
Turning around to the next set of lives,
Wondering what will come next.

(passover, Ian Curtis)

The one who understands, by klee

Castillo de Murnau, por Kandinsky

tu-sombra-es-mi-sombra, por comotto

Above the fresh ruffles of the surf
Bright striped urchins flay each other with sand.
They have contrived a conquest for shell shucks,
And their fingers crumble fragments of baked weed
Gaily digging and scattering.
And in answer to their treble interjections
The sun beats lightning on the waves,
The waves fold thunder on the sand;
And could they hear me I would tell them:
O brilliant kids, frisk with your dog,
Fondle your shells and sticks, bleached
By time and the elements; but there is a line
You must not cross nor ever trust beyond it
Spry cordage of your bodies to caresses
Too lichen-faithful from too wide a breast.
The bottom of the sea is cruel.


Sobre el fresco fruncido de las olas,
Chicos de rayas vivas se azotan con arena.
Después de urdir batallas por las conchas,
Sus dedos desmigajan fragmentos de algas secas
Excavando joviales.
Y en respuesta al bullicio,
En las olas el sol relampaguea,
En la arena las olas lanzan truenos.
Y si me oyeran les diría:
Jugad, niños radiantes, con el perro,
Acariciad las conchas y los palos
Que el tiempo y la intemperie han deslucido;
Pero existe una línea que no debéis cruzar
Ni confiar el vivo cordaje de los cuerpos
A los besos tan fieles a las algas de un pecho tan extenso.
Cruel es el fondo del mar.

(Voyages I. Hart Crane. Versión en castellano por Sally Burguess)

his paintings would not be as valuable
now
if he hadn't
sliced off his ear
worn that rag around his head
and then done it to himself
among the cornstalks.
and wouldn't that one's poems be
so famous if he hadn't
faded at 19,
given it all up to
go gun running and gold hunting
in Africa only to
die of syphilis?
what about the one who was
murdered in the road
by Spanish fascists?
did that
give his words more
meaning?
or take the one who was a
national hero
those iceberg symphonies soaring
cutting that particular sky
in half
he had it all working for him
then he got worried about old age
saved his head
went into his house
vanished and was never seen
again.
such strange behavior, didn't somebody
once say?
that the man should be as durable as his
art, that's what they want, they want the
impossible: creation and creator to be as
one. this is the dirty trick
of the ages.

(Beethoven conducted his last symphony while totally deaf. Charles Bukowski)

You are tired,
(I think)
Of the always puzzle of living and doing;
And so am I.

Come with me, then,
And we’ll leave it far and far away–
(Only you and I, understand!)

You have played,
(I think)

And broke the toys you were fondest of,
And are a little tired now;
Tired of things that break,
and–Just tired.
So am I.
[...]


(You are tired. Edward Estlin Cummings)

Iba a hacerlo esta mañana
Levantarme de la cama
Comprar algo de comida
Empezar con otra vida
Pensé que sería lo mejor,
toda esta mierda se acabó.
Voy a dejarlo de verdad,
ya no me gusta nada
Y a ordenar por fin la casa,
y lavar estas dos mantas,
y recuperar mis discos,
y unas cosas que he perdido
Y después pensé: mejor que no
y puse la televisión.
Subí a pillar un poco más,
después de todo esto no está mal.

(línea 1. Los Planetas)

¡Ax dx mxx! ¿Dónde buscar
durante el invierno las fxxxx,
dónde el fulgor del sol
y las sombras del suelo?
Están los muros en pie
mudos y fríos, en el viento
rechinan las veletas.

(Fragmento de Mitad de Vida. Hölderlin)

"...regocijo y euforia perdurables, que no intervienen en modo alguno en la alegría de una persona normal... Se siente un aumento del autocontrol, mayor vigor y más capacidad de trabajo. Por otro lado, si uno trabaja, se pierde la volatilidad de las fuerzas mentales a la que inducen el alcohol, el té, y el café. Simplemente se es normal y en poco tiempo se vuelve difícil comprender que uno está bajo la influencia de una droga. Se puede desempeñar trabajo físico o mental durante largo tiempo, sin fatiga; es como si se desvaneciera la necesidad de comer o dormir, que de otra manera se hace sentir en ciertas horas del día." Sigmund Freud

"...despierta la agresividad, un estimulante que da una sensación de poder, de que estás en la cima del mundo. Pero es un poder ilusorio que desaparece cuando se desvanecen los efectos, sin que el individuo haya aprendido nada. Provoca un estado muy falso, sin aprendizaje, que lleva al individuo al escape temporal de sí mismo." Alexander Shulguin

Creación de Luke Jerram en respuesta a la costumbre de los medios de dibujar los virus de colores rojo o amarillo brillante con el fin, según él, de transmitir miedo. Es un modelo tridimensional y transparente del VIH.
(L. Jerram, 2004, Wellcome Library, Londres)

Sísifo en el Averno, por Franz von Stuck

.curiosa traducción la que nos da el Google Traductor de "fuck you".

a pill to wake up
a pill to talk
a pill to fuck you
a pill to forget you
a pill to go to sleep

.swinging along the bridge taking my happy-sleeping-diet pills.

I woke up
In someone else’s arms
But I was dreaming
I was dreaming of you
I woke up
In someone else’s bed
And I was dreaming
I was dreaming of you
I was dreaming of you

(murder city devils)

.y no la vuelves a ver.