Dawn Eve

El Año va cerrando una mandíbula llena de Nada, fauces hirientes de afilada mudez. No hay mucho más que atar. Hace dieciocho días que el Fin comenzó. El Año se cierne sobre camas de plumas, horquillas de lengua viperina con voz de hierro y crujir de sueños. Temía el Fin del Año por lo que me depararía, pero ahora veo con claridad lo que me espera: Otro más. Nuevamente un Año con pasos propios, lejanas lágrimas y otras aún por venir. Carcajadas resonantes y otras por florecer. Temo equivocarme, pero me encantará estar allí para comprobarlo.

El Fin del Año es en ocasiones motivo de dicha, Renovación y Florecimiento, Renacer de Cenizas de Carmín; en otras ocasiones es la Forma de la Catástrofe, Fin del Ciclo, Fin de La Vida. Todo ha de llegar, pues es el único modo de que Todo llegue. A veces eso significa que Todo ha de marchar y otras que nada se va.

Hay mucho que echar de menos, pero aún hay más devenir por añorar. Y así, a la espera de la Conclusión.


Migas para 'Flash Pan Hunter(Intro)' by Tom Waits;

Some More

Porqué si no hay nada que me impida escribir, si aún tengo cosas que contar, no hay nada aquí día tras día?

If there's one thing you can say
About Mankind
There's nothing kind about man
You can drive out nature with a pitch fork
But it always comes roaring back again

I fell into the ocean
When you became my wife
I risked it all against the sea
To have a better life
Marie you're the wild blue sky
And men do foolish things
You turn kings into beggars
And beggars into kings

Why be sweet, why be careful, why be kind?
A man has only one thing on his mind
Why ask politely, why go lightly,
why say please?
They only want to get you on your knees
There are a few things I never could believe
A woman when she weeps
A merchant when he swears
A thief who says he'll pay
A lawyer when he cares
A snake when he is sleeping
A drunkard when he prays
I don't believe you go to heaven
when you're good
Everything goes to hell, anyway...

The ship is sinking
The ship is sinking
The ship is sinking
There's leak, there's leak,
in the boiler room
The poor, the lame, the blind
Who are the ones that we kept in charge?
Killers, thieves, and lawyers

Nothing's ever as it seems
Climb the ladder to you dreams
If i die before you wake
Don't you cry, don't you weep
Nothing's ever yours to keep
Close your eyes, go to sleep

When the day breaks, and the earth quakes
Life's a mistake all day long
Tell me, who gives a good gooddamn
You'll never get out alive

Don't take my word
Just look skyward
They that dance must pay the fiddler
Sky is darkening
Dogs are barking
But the caravan moves on

Will you loose the flowers
hold on to the vase
Will you wipe all those teardrops
away from your face
I can't help thinking
as I close the door
I have done all of this
many times before

The bone must go
The wish can stay
The kiss don't know
What the lips will say

All day Long, Blood Money by Tom Waits;

O'Clock

"Tienes mi más sincera y profunda confianza."










"Por ahora."

Sunrise Setsun

'Give Me That and I'll return You Trust'


'I must be everything I say you must be
I have to say all I say you have to say
I need to do anything I say you need to do'

Back again with 'Trampled Rose' by Tom Waits;

Longing For Tears

"I own an animal; not a false one but the real thing. A squirrel. I love the squirrel, Deckard; every goddamn morning I feed it and change its papers — you know, clean up its cage — and then in the evening when I get off work I let it loose in my apt and it runs all over the place. It has a wheel in its cage; ever seen a squirrel running inside a wheel? It runs and runs, the wheel spins, but the squirrel stays in the same spot. Buffy seems to like it, though."


Spins endlessly 'Paper Bag' by Goldfrapp;

So Long

'A pervasive pattern of disregard for and violation of the rights of others and inability or unwillingness to conform to what are considered to be the norms of society.
The disorder involves a history of chronic antisocial behavior. The disorder is manifested by a pattern of irresponsible and antisocial behavior as indicated by academic failure, poor job performance, illegal activities, recklessness, and impulsive behavior. Symptoms may include dysphoria, an inability to tolerate boredom, feeling victimized, and a diminished capacity for intimacy.'

Angels singing 'Starving In The Belly Of A Whale' by Tom Waits;

Happy Meal

'He had wondered as had most people at one time or another precisely why an android bounced helplessly about when confronted by an empathy-measuring test. Empathy, evidently, existed only within the human community, whereas intelligence to some degree could be found throughout every phylum and order including the arachnids. For one thing, the emphatic faculty probably required an unimpaired group instinct; a solitary organism, such as a spider, would have no use for it; in fact it would tend to abort a spider's ability to survive. It would make him conscious of the desire to live on the part of his prey. Hence all predators, even highly developed mammals such as cats, would starve.
Empathy, he once had decided, must be limited to herbivores or anyhow omnivores who could depart from a meat diet. Because, ultimatley, the emphatic gift blurred the boundaries between hunter and victim, between the successful and the defeated. As in the fusion with Mercer, everyone ascended together or, when the cycle had come to an end, fell together into the trough of the tomb world. Oddly, it resembled a sort of biological insurance, but double-edged. As long as some creature experienced joy, then the condition for all other creatures included a fragment of joy. However, if any living being suffered, then for all the rest the shadow could not be entirely cast off. A herd animal such as man would acquire a higher survival factor through this; an owl or a cobra would be destroyed.
Evidently the humanoid robot constituted a solitary predator.'

Tomorrow

'The distinction between sanity and insanity is narrower than a razor's edge, sharper than a hound's tooth, more agile than a deer mule. It is more elusive than the merest phantom. Perhaps it does not even exist; perhaps it is a phantom.'


Echo of 'SinCity' by Nik Page;