Omega Seamaster Lug Width

Barthes and China The music of Hugo Savino

And you talk to people who have no idea these things: to want to write, and a coffee float to the other with a notebook in hand: fishing what you can. The book as a wagon, I put everything in there.
Hugo Savino. Jump kills.

Language is something on the order of experience. Hugo Savino know and attacks against all these representatives of bibliographic tiredness kills Jump (Letranómada, 2010). 160 pages of pure music. Because language is something on the order of the senses. No jargon of cultural journalists, and the scaffolding Police hired teachers, bureaucrats or legislators humanities college. Neither pedantic and boring twister-structuralist-semiotic Hegelian-Lacanian-Marxist. Knowledge theories are useless to any application. For an author is an author. And a theory, however, is that it repeats ideas and strives inert and comfort by applying to this or that work. A forced labor, in addition; hardened work of freedom, passion and wonder, the of that. You have to read kills Jump: styles of translation and translation style. Savino, a lover of words, pictures made of the poem. Does the poem in the picture. A book of unprecedented freedom, sadly unusual, which shocked the tedious boredom and under the authority quoted, the privileged place of intellectual masturbatory narcissism. Reviewers rather than registered, so can cross voracious readers and aesthetic works, "without permission" from anyone. Ritmo y ear. Or "suggestive authorities" or "institutional representatives." Ringtones and music. In praise of reading and the reader is wise unmanageable whose only taste. Claim, vindicate its pages, you come and make fun of, taken by assault, the joy of reading, an activity that reading your pages does not seem in danger of extinction. Voice of an author named Hugo Savino. For an author worth his works. In the cadence of his phrasing. What is your writing and publishing journal, its most expensive notebook, your notebook war. We will see in this requiem laugh, reading Jump kills, affected by the praise-rare, thankfully, very powerful, from a reader: because not only the language but reading is something on the order of experience. Jump in kills reading is a sensory experience. A book to listen. Savino syntax is unbiased. If a translator avoid "the pitfalls of accuracy," as author combat the illusions of a domestication reader. For those who still believe in the ability books, when true, dangerous objects, to change lives and draw destinations. Culturalism Nothing prevents us feel and think freely. Jump in kills is humor, naturalness, taste, passion, pleasure reading. There is also anger towards a dominant deafness and fashionable. Beyond fashion. A classic is something else. A constant flight to the taste. Hugo Savino retrieves a tone that seemed lost in the Causeries Argentina. We will see read Jump kills in this requiem, laughing.




Javier Fernández

Uncomfortable Pains In Stomach

Chronicle of a Chronic Damian Rios Entre Rios or "Damian atendeme ..."

"That script was talking about the things are given, from which they receive and which are lost, I then over time, I read many books, and the best really just talking about it, sometimes to forget, but always that. "
( Entre Rios)

"atendeme Damian," said the father teaching him to count collecting stones ... My dad, when we were going to give consideration repeated: "I wrote that first letter and let you out" ...

What happens when one reads, one discovers, as I a few years ago, an author, a work, the city itself, the same time, Conception and Uruguay, to understand the locals, says Zelarayán?

What do you do with it is so close and so good?

Rivers Damian The language is a smooth, quiet, real, not without mannerisms baroque and unreasonable. A clear work. Entre Ríos is that where it says "The germ or Monica." Entre Rios or Conception, the place of these, but these themselves, "like a parrot tired" or "east wind, rain and plague." And Bessi school where I finished second grade and Damian until he went to live with Grandma Carmen. School Bessi Bessi by sisters, I did, Damian account and gives me his book. With the dirt courtyard and worms that kids put us in the dust ... ghosts of childhood.

And now, recently, I see the part Uhart Damian Rios, his writing ... he says on the front page of the book ... and here I find: "sweeping the shaded part of the sidewalk." And I see the words time and time zone so as I said to Zelarayán-as "espamento doing both." Increasing I saw the other side of town, I lived on the side of the Ministry where the water did not come but once climbed up to two blocks behind my house. And Damien lived in and with other brands, "the bridge of Suipacha" the trench. But increasingly, "kind of sad," was something to see for everyone. Damian knows

"write a novel with checks." Pass behind the College of Uruguay, where he was me, because Damian was the Industrial, where were my friends today so far: Dito and Fabio. And he gets so well these blue lights going up and down the fronts of houses, a memory mirroring. And Damian treasured knowledge of people, cruelty and people who do not sleep in the morning, "actual observations," says the book and writes, "tells the one who knows and writes to know." Hebe

Uhart claimed in an interview these days who do not know why Argentina literature does good dialogue. D. Rios makes perfect crosses:

"" He's fishing, "said Piche.
And another answered:
"And he was alone."

The trench, the stream of the Souls, who lived outside the walls for me closer to the square Ramírez, literature and come to find there, there ... But more than what I feel and I know there must be in entrerrianos and all the work of D. Rivers. As Bernard, the fools who sent "Groove", a joke that was repeated at home, and was a school for disabled people "and that he understands that you can" as Aira said. And now Damian transvestite know if the names ... I think not ... "the Damien is Damien ... We, I and all our stuff we read some in Concepción and although the" Rys "is the Rys, not read ... almost anything ... Not all are required to read and curiosity is only greed of a few, literature, fortunately, is not immutable mandatory ... There are people who do not even see themselves when it is portrayed and I have thousands of cases ... but the boys

, cousins \u200b\u200bof entrerrianos expect rain and growing. Similar and very different from Wernicke. And do not invent almost anything. The familiar language, they do. Is one, the language childhood, where almost everything ... But we must understand this ... it's like when you say "all written" ... and knows that "not all written, only a few among all" ... And that force, that force meeting, than it really is, and so well written out, like the cry of gurí Zelarayán entrerriano I found in what might be called "portray one's own language:" The rain, he said later, wanting to say something. " The flood itself, I called years ago. Portraying

portray a customer is watching the storm and last names that I recognize there: Don Caire, the dead by the growing Sandoval ... the names, surnames, are not the same throughout our country. Immigrations were others. So I thought "The provincial tour." In Entre Ríos more Jewish names that Arabs, I think, the opposite of what happens in the north.

And the picture is sharp, as the rising sun. And there are many things, transposed, remembered: the return to the square of the city trucks, line 4 groups (I do not think there were more than two or three when we were kids with Damian), the bus station today and aging but in the '70-'80 was a new building with hotel and everything. Although it was Esso front of the beach area ...

remains And the portrait is known portrait, the hardest thing there, a face, the literary portrait is a face: "Every time it seems that something will happen in these blocks, but at this time no anything can happen. " And I know why I feel stronger when I read that the repeater channel 7 began transmitting at 7 pm, before the afternoon, had to settle for 3, Paysandu and 12 Fray Bentos .. . but if there was a storm ... Channel 9 appeared between gray and black stripes ...

And always inevitable, there is an essay on memory and forgetting in these stories: "First I get the oblivion of the noise, then the words. The forgetfulness that comes is round, white, porous, infinite is done so for one to fill it with loads of new sounds, lies. I have left, then, silent images, unnamed colors, then I put the noise and smells that I, like writing on a letterhead. " And partly contrasts with "certain things that come from inside of something" and what they mean is then: tell a story that no one knows if it's important or if it is the scenery ... so says entrerrianos .
hospitalito
And where was finally my dad's office, where he began to leave the grandmother of Damien, the spa, where some teachers were single and hairstyles, and other things that Damian's grandmother remembered for him to know, look, feel, and they spoke for "Only then starts to write to me: the rest is a score."

Inside 50s grew up, that I read in an anthology of poets from the north and it is true, but Damian Rios in the '80s and '90s could not speak as an old man "today is that ...." The inside is always a story last time.
Y is the log of coming to Buenos Aires collectively, how to maneuver the bus leaves the terminal, an accuracy of the look that assaults the heart: "That, having that. Because you will know that the return will not be the same "... as I said the girl marplatense Melo coffee one day, walking down Las Heras ..." when we have been age 2 or 3 years "and she was only 21! And

appear Club Rivadavia Street and Lorenzo Sartorio and few dates ... I have nothing but joy and sadness nostalgic for the time of the soul over there when I read the memories of Damian, your novel, the only poets can write a detached dwelling: "What the fuck is agreed. I have to write the first thing that comes to mind, if I had to get here I can not err. I have to be precise, play well. "

I never thought I never wanted to return to live there ... but I remember it all ... As you see clarito Damian "heaven or camaraderie" which is entangled with the memories of those loves cute, warm, and hence the mention of people who I think, very few recognize: Villa Mantero, which they say "Mantero," or the old road to Columbus ... phrases that you recognize as belonging to those times there, never name them here. And there are mysteries, is experience, vision and poetry is honest: "But for me there is no skill that's worth, I am interested in honesty. Being honest is infinitely more difficult than being right, "says Damian Rios.

Finally go around a bit some of his sentences because "Someone comes and tells her story" ... because "Memory is flat, has no way to represent nothing but pictures, just goes with with something like the sound of a projector background, a cushion ... Damian Rios

type, select: "What is called inspiration in general can be understood as compliance orders (...) The report warns, birdie, but it represents. No sun. "Rivers is on the lyrical best, fair, just had a radio Noblex as there was also at home. Damian portrays what is hanging around in the body: "What does Damian, nothing, I'm telling the story of us all of what we did." Once

spoke with Damien about how we talk when we returned to Concepcion and conventions that one never comes at all ... but go and say hello 14 years after the golden Bessi school girlfriend ... because also in Buenos Aires is "Caserito (that) was like me, nothing but time had run more in Entre Ríos and read very little ..." And my last

underscore is also something that I could tell my sister who recently returned to Concepción to meet childhood companions, "Well, sister, I'm not talking about the past, I'm talking about the marks of the past in a voice that is now mine."




Laura Estrin

Multiplication Table 100 X 100

Hervé Guibert: the decline of the body of the writer

The outbreak of AIDS in France produced a boom in the narrative theme. It is estimated that between 1985 and 1993 were more than 40 books (evidential or fiction) about the disease. The work that stands out above the rest of this invasion was that of the former enfant terrible of French literature: Hervé Guibert.

Sometimes, the immediacy of the tragedy may be counterproductive to the immediacy of writing. Then the "scandal" obscures the purpose of writing experience. The agony of Foucault and make public the cause of death (which relates Guibert The friend who saved my life ) was an almost unforgivable act for the "apostles" of Foucault. That's why you have to detach the contemporaneity of the events recounted in the first place (which is the urgency of the review), to restore to the work of Guibert literary status, and secondly, to justify the delicate balance between fiction and autobiographical memory, ie, when the space of literature is "border." Guibert

breaks in the French literature with his first book La mort propagande (1977) when he was 22 years, marking a line that was always going to go over his work: the construction of autobiography through fiction. The criticism of his country understood by mythomania fiction. Guibert slid across the range including the self literature, newspapers, autobiographical novels, correspondence, autobiographical texts illustrated with photographs of their own production. His figure is no longer the "cult" in the literature gala when in 1984 he won the César for Best Screenplay for the film The wounded man, directed by Patrice Chereau.

In 1990 the French literary world is shaken by the appearance of The friend who saved my life to begin the cycle of works about AIDS (disease was the cause of his death) and would continue to compassionate protocol (1991), L'homme au chapeau rouge (1992, unpublished in Castilian) and the posthumously published diary Cytomegalovirus.

The controversy generated by Guibert's work is the autobiographical story of all: that is told or what is omitted, what is the limit of such accounts (public and private) and what criteria utilization of raw materials of these types of stories, which is none other than life itself. Undoubtedly

fractures literary space "topographically" when the novel becomes autobiographical confession. In the absence of privacy, life can be told. The own and others. And when the friendship is "betrayed" (talk to reveal the cause of the death of Foucault), the work becomes blurred and the event occurs, the scandal. We emphasize the use of the word. Disclose being HIV carrier creates scandal and precedes the "social death" of the subject. It is a body that is contagious and that is the bearer of death and reveal "practices unconventional sex. " Dominates the discourse of death.

"... Ultimately, AIDS is predominant in the discourse of death and are forgetting that the desire is not something so easily controlled. No danger, but also on behalf of the danger you say "Let's live", which is the great message of medicine. "Perlongher Nestor, interview Papers refuseniks.

Focusing solely on "Foucault case" would limit the scope of writing Guibert. In any case, one of the functions of his prose is to perpetuate the memory. A measure of urgency for those absent for own future demise. Although it is sometimes not a participant in those memories:

"(Christine Ockrent) spent a short excerpt that I would not have missed it for the world during its evening news Muzila's death in June 1984. Christine Ockrent, which he exulted, often called ma petite or large ma cherie not actually issued more than a vast and endless laughter, shot during the release of varieties, Muzila wearing a suit and tie , pictures in which he literally writhed with laughter at a time when it was expected that he was seriously like a dad to glorify one of the rules of that history of behavior whose bases destroyed, and that comforted me laugh in a moment I was frozen when I put the TV in the house of Jules and Berthe, where I had fled the night of his death to see how they would treat your obituary on the news. That was for me last Muzila animated visual appearance that he consented to receive, I wanted then I wanted, for fear, fight any pretense of their presence, except with dreams, and that laugh so formidable, so fierce, so bright, just in time before our friendship. " The friend who saved my life.

Restore the absence, because forgetting is an torment. Hence the need to recover the memory, perpetuate it, photograph it, cast the ritual of disappearance:

"In four months the torment of absence had had time to settle on things like an impossible to remove dust again, things had become untouchable, hence had to photograph them, before new disorders cover them. " The friend who saved my life.

If memory functions would be to perpetuate the memory, the autobiographical novel continues writing while the disease runs its course, undermining the forces. Guibert is in constant struggle against time. The autobiography is the biography of the body burning. Throughout this cycle of works of Guibert, the narrative form of novel mutations blog, where he settled let setbacks and progress of the disease. We can not call it every day (except for CMV ). The Journal is the raw material Guibert autobiographical fiction, then what is extracted is transformed into fiction novel.

"The report certainly gives a jump and I have no desire to continue referring to the newspaper to avoid today, five years later, the sadness of what, playing too exactly what happened, it restored with malice ..." the friend who saved me life.

dates are not recorded, record the progression of the work:

"The book combating fatigue produced by the body's fight against virus attacks. I have only four hours a day validity, after lifting the huge picture window blinds, which are the potentiometer weakening my breath to return to find daylight and get to work again. " O

contrary register the failure of the company, the body is the vector of writing. The experience of writing is the war against depression, fiction is set in line with the body's response, the body materializes narrative form or more precisely the writing dynamic signals the beginning and the end, the unexpected or solution of continuity of the work:

"... before yesterday I felt a little better from the morning and began this story, though sinister, seemed to present some joy, if not lively, it is due to the dynamics of writing and how much it may have to improvise. There is no book without unexpected structure, and emerges with the hazards of writing. But I saw him yesterday all black and did not write a line. " compassionate protocol.

tolerance of medication is one that can keep producing the story:

"I remain so bad and I'm waiting for relief from this drug, which actually took five days to take, feeling no other effect than the production of this story. " compassionate protocol.

The Journal writing swings also suffer the body's resistance. The continuity of life arises and makes writing the narrative forward. Survival and generates the story of the work plan. The body is at "war" against the virus progresses, Guibert questions the extension of the work:

"The War Diary of Babel: if I lose my eye is one of the last books I have opened.
This diary should also be a war diary. (...)
This journal, which should last two weeks, I stopped from one day to another due to absolute despair. (...)
My doctor happened to me a while ago. I said that if the placement of the slide-catch usually passed under local anesthesia in the operating room, would initiate the administrative procedures that would allow me to be transferred to my home as quickly as possible and sooner than expected (I thought at once great and Shit My diary is not going to last fifteen days ). " Cytomegalovirus.

As built Sarduy The autobiography through the archeology of the body, Guibert writes about the beauty of the body, the fullness and the decline of the same. All construction autobiographical writer needs that commitment to the body. The body is the experience of writing which tells the life and also can be told with a camera

"Leaving the camera in your pocket under the skin of a panther the desk chair, I went immediately to stroke, in the eyes of the Polish assistant, the meat so soft gap between the two breasts of my aunt. A young flesh and erotic despite his ninety-five. I feel no repugnance to the flesh, sometimes mushy, woman very old, but on the contrary, a great tenderness toward nearby attraction, an attraction joyful, not vicious. Suzanne should note that it gives me much pleasure as she rubbed my nose against hers in our Eskimo kiss., Since we can not talk, stroking his forehead with a gesture repeated in the grip of the hair, shake his hand mine, two patients are still dying to look a little pleasure on this earth before returning to find ourselves in hell. " compassionate protocol.

In June 1992, Guibert video was filmed in various everyday situations registering their illness and their families in their rehabilitation, with friends, naked. Final assembly of the film, released posthumously called The pudeur ou l'impudeur (The modesty or immodesty), and other flagship title that reflects the development parameters within which all his work. Avoiding

final demise of his body, Guibert commits suicide in Paris in December 1991.




Pablo Moreno

How Much For A Large Bottle Of Patron

Clubbing

About Clubbing , Gabriel Goldberg (Vox, 2010)


war in poetry, in celebration of poetry, so organized, with official poets with subsidized rebel poets, with their lyrical transfixed, with their managers, your damn, every so often falls a book written . That does not fit into those categories. A book that speaks to the poetry, a book that makes poetry. A single book, that "the mess" is surprising because no style, no, and it is unclear where it comes from. We do not know the source. And why? Books that do not originate the style takes a while to read. They are not in the code. Clubbing comes with the lines of "fringed flowers." Gabriela Goldberg puts the poem on line, thread the phrase in singing, brings "the dearest charm, sometimes broken, sometimes come in question, lint / the light," little beauties line. The finding of a line that leads to another line and that one was read aloud, "in Chuzas / the shaggy / At the bottom of the leaves / the body turns / spot." Clubbing has a violent scenes, details: "envy grim" gall "rancor that ring," is also an evocation of lost time, "perhaps overturn the sentences stacked / or hail / on the table wearing a Chat soda /'s poor. " It is a book of acrobatics of life. Here all "empilchamos with nothing." The humor of hindsight: "cluck cluck! Treason. " No theory of humor, or the evocation or violence. It is a move in the lines. That is why anti-celebratory book of poetry. Many believe break everything and do nothing but serve the philosopher a poem of poetry. There is much poetic kitsch packaged in a breakup. Clubbing not come from nowhere is not going anywhere, is a poem because it mimics refractory anything. I read these poems as dream log or landscape vignettes. Scattered moments that come together in reading. Is spin. And I tell a story. The poems do not tell me anything, I suggest a narrative frayed. They are poems written with reality, poems that suggest the present of lived experience and scratch in the "weak memory." I bring a vision. I see and hear what I read. The world Clubbing starts to fillies, at a time to lose "catching butterflies", shading and afternoons: "colt morning / the sun / making landscape, wandering destination just because of privacy. Clubbing has some asocial, incitement to depart. Motion to not get caught. He does not preach what amuch, does not preach anything. They "reviewed the battles fingers", small scale of anger crackling sounds. Batahola which poem.




Hugo Savino

Skin Colored Body Suit

If something goes, the literature is: The bridge suburban

(Reading Notes Litertango program, FM La Tribu, Sunday October 24, 2010)


suburban Bridge Jorge Quiroga is a beautiful book. The Good, strong, I spoke directly to me, "as Hugo Savino said," I grab the neck, "and that summer is a step that we can not" ... Then, later noted: "A plain white, endless, lighting a summer that no one knew it was going to give. "

In suburban Bridge, weather, the scenery are near me: "The wind attacks, strikes, comes" ... or the scene 24: "Day and night are two moments that speak, and no again back, through the planting field, looking at him with stones that cover the time (only presence) to choose between innocence and misery "... Literature is, as are the stones in Jewish cemeteries ... because" life is not is crossing a field, "as did Babel scored often fulgurate life on the edge of the cemetery. Also close

I have the portrait of 45: "At a certain time of night, life and the growing concern within. The roles are reversed, where a street, now a man is wrong .... "At night there is not much difference between sickness and health ... I wrote in A rope . And

Quiroga knows that "Time true treasures that exist in the spoken words" .... And the book is right when he says: "I do not forgive him wandering around the memory ...." Resonances, which is: "Who remembers what brings you choose to believe him, and so begins another day to think, which will be reunited with friends, encouraged by the voice, none of this may be true."

"We must change things around in the middle of the night" ... suburban Bridge de Quiroga is puzzling if one is looking for something ... But to read these books have to forget everything, start again but with we have left ... No project is to write or to read, only a short experience, like the tail of a sparrow, in the words of his stories the same Babel, a Russian sad but sure did not hesitate to contradict claims that a gay man is always right. And Quiroga ... perhaps because he read some good Argentine naturalists Boedo, the group that read the Russians, knew how to put in his writing a poem, story, more or less hidden, dark, stealth ... I say it best: tight, closed: we are doomed to the hermetic, just transposed. A whole that knows it's only good piece. As in the other stories, Quiroga Pictures, tried scenes, is say, he just makes his own brand on. He said: "A glow escapes the plot." There are writers who want to light, others just follow an uncertain glow.

Then the sons are not poems but prints. Hints of narrative. Something happened, but what counts is then as it is. And that makes for smooth narrative, mystery, tell himself recalling the poetry of Montale. Everyday, is also there, said Quiroga, Saba. Italian reads.

Then, between history and the author, a voice, subjectivity and more objectivity. But in this new book by Jorge Quiroga's story is more light. And also, "It seems to speak to me but I speak of others of them" - he clarified later.

raschell in the preface says that fate sometimes coincides with the origin, the sea that reappears in the book. I guess that happens in part because it is a "write in bursts, which involves a tremendous vulnerability, because it contains an arrival, which is expressed in evidence, a terminal language, means loneliness and relentless pursuit, as a trait that the particularized. " Quiroga wrote on Zelarayán that the magazine "other." Scriptures are like a wind, without project, without end, then what is listed, is there. And I love it when it says afterwards: "The memory changes reality, is an essay, comes as a question and as there is not a bed of roses. And it's best take flight to Buenos Aires magnetized. " It goes from about Lata Zelarayán in combed when it involves "an eye to the lives collapsed. This language of rudeness, internal dialogues and questions, is the language of passion. " Events that do not accept any duality, ambiguity is better, can be like a breath that comes from always.

And still Quiroga: "Literature must be attentive to this rumor coming from unexpected things and the facts of the offenses brings the oral, which is the source of the ephemeral unambiguous and poetry. The writer only has to lend a hand to that which is dense, rich and sinister at the same time. The early literature is that subterfuge "...

literature for us is an art of listening and looking, authors of the eye and ear, that sense of reality as I said Zola. In some lines of Jorge Quiroga, Mothers , he noted: "You realize you need to look, / (out the window the event is for all)." And in suburban Bridge, on the great picture 42 expands: "We gave up our lives, we silenced, and he lived it intertwined, then it is to pay attention to what is the gesture. In the morning is the blinding clarity.
The city is repeated a few ways, it is to remind us, tearing, biting the roots, repenting, see others as they are. "

The bridge is the neighborhood, of which one is going and returning. One step. "My joy would this be read as poetry written in Bs.As" says Jorge Quiroga. The city, the image that appears over and over again in all its stories .

And when Nestor Sanchez writes about is clear: "The world holds an impossible relationship with what is happening, and the only way is to bet Sanchez found his match. Watch what you do not know, tell what we have, that is, having that process, opposing resonances. " We know: the literature is a meeting . Literature is the miracle of the meeting, in addition to meeting entreperdidos knowledge, that experience is useless when there is nothing: "We are, she keeps the events for that history culminates, through the station without stopping." Quiroga may know that women and poets do not forget, either.

Literature is meeting and we repeat Mandelstam war, "and Quiroga wrote a great sentence in the foreword an anthology of Nicolás Olivari: "The poem is known, indicates a distance, and a good defense."


confirm with each book of Jorge Quiroga I like his poetry. This book away even that step past history or Argentina in the other books is stronger and moves away from that here, a little. Raschell said there is always something to "write the generation to which one belongs" ... An air of elective time, if we accept that the meetings, when what remains , they are ... So, "Jorge Quiroga me confidence . Know how to see the time, "as Hugo Savino said.


Laura

Estrin