So long ago...

die falscher

No hay mucho más que comentar sobre esta película...
Alguien escribió Laughter in the darkness y asi es.
Me gusto mucho porque más allá de ver un campo de concentración y la clásica historia de los malos nazis contra los pobres judíos nos encontramos con personajes más reales y una historia que fue verdad y que esta narrada de forma amena e interesante.
recomendable...
Lo único que extrañaba era escuchar el tango...entre el alemán , un poco de francés, el ritmo argentino me parecía extraño y demasiado sensual. Pero el personaje era un tipo romántico al fin y al cabo. Inevitable ciertas imágenes de él bailando con esa desconocida en la orilla del mar, y otras reminicencias al esplendor decadente de un mundo a lo Visconti mientras tomaba sol en la terraza del hotel.
Buena, buena.

un domingo de julio...

...Song of Myself...Whitman... To my Dad...

I am of old and young, of the foolish as much as the wise,
Regardless of others, ever regardful of others,
Maternal as well as paternal, a child as well as a man,
Stuff'd with the stuff that is coarse and stuff'd with the stuff
that is fine,
One of the Nation of many nations, the smallest the same and the
largest the same,
A Southerner soon as a Northerner, a planter nonchalant and
hospitable down by the Oconee I live,
A Yankee bound my own way ready for trade, my joints the limberest
joints on earth and the sternest joints on earth,
A Kentuckian walking the vale of the Elkhorn in my deer-skin
leggings, a Louisianian or Georgian,
A boatman over lakes or bays or along coasts, a Hoosier, Badger, Buckeye;
At home on Kanadian snow-shoes or up in the bush, or with fishermen
off Newfoundland,
At home in the fleet of ice-boats, sailing with the rest and tacking,
At home on the hills of Vermont or in the woods of Maine, or the
Texan ranch,
Comrade of Californians, comrade of free North-Westerners, (loving
their big proportions,)
Comrade of raftsmen and coalmen, comrade of all who shake hands
and welcome to drink and meat,
A learner with the simplest, a teacher of the thoughtfullest,
A novice beginning yet experient of myriads of seasons,
Of every hue and caste am I, of every rank and religion,
A farmer, mechanic, artist, gentleman, sailor, quaker,
Prisoner, fancy-man, rowdy, lawyer, physician, priest.

I resist any thing better than my own diversity,
Breathe the air but leave plenty after me,
And am not stuck up, and am in my place.

(The moth and the fish-eggs are in their place,
The bright suns I see and the dark suns I cannot see are in their place,
The palpable is in its place and the impalpable is in its place

Conversation Piece...by D. Bowie

I took this walk to ease my mind To find out what's gnawing at me Wouldn't think to look at me, that I've spent a lot of time in education It all seems so long ago I'm a thinker, not a talker I've no-one to talk to, anyway I can't see the road for the rain in my eyes Ahhh ... I live above the grocers store, owned by an Austrian He often calls me down to eat And he jokes about his broken English, tries to be a friend to me But for all my years of reading conversation, I stand without a word to say I can't see the bridge for the rain in my eye Ahhh... And the world is full of life Full of folk who don't know me And they walk in twos or threes or mor While the light that shines above the grocer's store Investigates my face so rudely And my essays lying scattered on the floor Fulfill their needs just by being there And my hands shake, my head hurts, my voice sticks inside my throat I'm invisible and dumb, And no-one will recall me And I can't see the water through the tears in my ey-y-yes



One of my favorite songs lyrics...y en Santiago llueve...yo compro florecillas blancas y amarillas en recuerdo de mi padre y del mío... No olvidar jamás las cosas bellas por las cuales respiro.
Que reducido es el número de gente que va quedando. Y qué verdaderos son ...

Han peligrado
han sacudido el polvo de mis lastimosas ojeras.
Sostienen árboles ernarbolando sombrías consignas de antaño.
Hay algo que corroe el suelo bajo mis pies,
y en la paupérrima ofrenda de mis hombros,
es mi mano la que cava la tierra.
Otorgan semillas,
pequeños pétalos de carmín y seda.
Derraman sus raíces serpenteándose entre rocas y arenas.
Se ierguen soberbias,
donosas y perfectas.
respiran hondo el frío que sacude la tierra.

some day in 2007...

...so I finally did it...

Dont know why theres no sun up in the sky
Stormy weather
Since my man and I aint together,
Keeps rainin all the time

Life is bare, gloom and misry everywhere
Stormy weather
Just cant get my poorself together,
Im weary all the time
So weary all the time
When he went away the blues walked in and met me.
If he stays away old rockin chair will get me.

All I do is pray the lord above will let me walk in the sun once more.
Cant go on, evry thing I had is gone
Stormy weather

Since my man and I aint together,
Keeps rainin all the time


(Ted koehler / harold arlen)