When I was born I found my grudges. were there, waiting. Next to the crib.
On the terrace of the air play the Lemon morning sun is slowly calmed me lonely I just go nuts barely won almost smell is mine encouraged me to put lime in the water do not ever want to the cage I'm away I do not miss anything no wonder the sun in the morning and put the leg on the terrace is slow almost no noise yard trees down, I do sign are as enshrined pillage the realism of its pathos is not spring There are vultures.
parent bread of God.
children: happy. Very few unfortunate episodes.
heritage: relative poverty. The misery, ever. At twelve homeownership. Kitchen bathroom at home.
why, then, that unforgiving spirit, if everything was going well, things were clear, spring water, I did not want to be a man, I wanted to be work as the only German poet says, work: reading, writing. When this crazy man? Claim excessive if one takes into account the place of my birth. When takes the thread in these notes. It's my novel about nothing but there are many family and friends and acquaintances. Is for people who want to read something that sounds at different speed.
not go : Invitations: abstain. Do not be invited. I do not know why, but do not go anywhere.
social respect: an idiot with some money, received in events, give talks, wanting to be respected. Mania respect. Social progress with this gift. Is a possibility.
forget: I can not, resentment of the city. Is the bitterness of the province, does not interest me, is to settle, rub, push, kill, become the damned, they want more: it was a lie. Its followers were seeking approval from the center. My memory is to blame. I blame society. Do not loose the crop.
project: to withdraw from the world. Milton Rodriguez has this sublime phrase: do not worry I show you some tricks to live with little money. Now is releasing a book. Hiding in the world. An inaccessible house, a bunker is best.
quoted: "That is my movie about the American family. Perhaps the project into a festival. I do not know and I do not care. There are always people willing to go see something new and different. " Telegraph
: Delo writes to: "You rich, and I come from lower class. You put it on your own key language on the scrap. That difference insurmountable. I carry untold secrets. And I'm not where I'm not accepted. Friendship impossible ours. "
mother again and again : fierce humor.
father : compulsive gambler. Died sad. Changed to honorable work.
housing There were two parts-two rooms to the street in a tenement yard. Kitchen cardboard sheet on the patio. Cooking kerosene.
salvation: a radio.
busts : Chopin yellow bronze. Beethoven's head was loose and made it look at the wall.
readings: novels, which fell into the hands: Huck Finn, Tom Sawyer, Uncle Tom's Cabin-Bomb-Salgari-Verne. Comic books, six weeks. Graph.
film : westerns exclusively. Hence his pro-Americanism never reneged. What separated him from friends and authors.
error: leave this old world for some culture, the world of culture, more error, together with small spoiled rich bourgeois intellectuals who write vocal oh written demand are respectable but honestly a little scared all at a loss for him to translate for those people who cheated. She wrote a picture book out of that dull scene. Now definitely not alone. It seems melodramatic. I can not say otherwise. He says the wind, go with Elijah who smokes like a toad, and smoke and ash fall in the wind whispers in pitch Elias, bored, and it increases the clarity, and Rufino murmur over the mouth does not open.
friends to tag: no, just that, no. Apenadísimo pain.
strategy: build a defensive unit to avoid doing: confessions, complaints, explanations, not to tell anyone. Tasted bitter it is to have something intimate. We pass through the sieve of the interpretation and Chimento. Avoid trampling analytical. Just put the blame for writing. Publication. The reproach against the propaganda of happiness. Happiness is something intimate and secret.
words: monotone, narrow courtyard, mishiadura, the trot, harness, spoons, Part.
very recent discovery: The ability to isolate.
work: a conspiracy hatched by former false-friends to starve closed its doors nearly translation all publishers, a publisher of independent so-called old tradition offers work for free as a way to patch the discredit, another asks for a report on possible works. He sent word that he would not for a bookseller.
possible uses: difficult. After the experience with Cuban writer who wrote memorable books critical of the study was never replace, the American College, guardian and rector and dean of literary authority made an agreement with private companies ranging from Miami to Tierra del Fuego that no writer of this sort is employed.
invitations: baby steps by the pool I jumped at me wind leads, no, no let me invite least wealthy lovers of culture. Lesson learned from the Argentine Wilder, Wilder German. He told the fat wrapped in orange paper Adorno is taken to licking crab soup like cats and do not fuck. Tweety hang sheets in the kitchen and I hope the ink dries.
old love: it goes by Peña, Canning to Las Heras. It's the worst walk away he saw in his life. She is going to be legs, slowly, rancor that unites them away pure melodrama. He's a clerical drudge has a head full of books. No longer looking at him, never would look, spring evening at seven heaven he did not have a cloud like that blue dress for the first time, a northwest wind that nobody expected and saw him walking coast to other parts, looks at her lost eyes, black hair that went into those eyes Sivori, yes, a was, or ever once was. Nor the hope of secrets, is only the phrase, that once, only with their poor literary quirks idiot who writes books or you can pay the light. She will walk away flies below solid future baldoserío Peña snore, he remains a pariah in that corner of the corner of daydreaming in the gray evening light now does she cry? Is it free? What is left behind? What I play Last go to oblivion? "Went on to oblivion? Everything? "Transformed into oblivion?
third person : lime sky horrible six in five in the morning. Calle asleep. Insomnia. Clatter of hoofs, would sound off. Noises are hardly hear any ear, is the night without rumors, again the club meeting where that was much talk yesterday, the stigma of mania damn parrot that encourages your little woman, no longer listens. She starts and then look out the window, bored of the drone philosopher, that can teaching. Poor women have to put it up. The other spoke and he listened and now insomnia. He spoke in aphorisms. Damn aphorisms. Aphoristic hates the guys. Nietzsche burned them coconuts. Do not want to be a furious rate. But there are rumors nights. It was all I could hear that no rumors. Always thought to be a pioneer of something. That's why I bored the guys who talk a lot. So love the tomes. Six hundred pages are their refuge. That an unreachable loneliness. How many read tome? You see last night apologizing and leaving the conference. That lecturer husband of her friend that puts men in motion. Release. But is a few days before succumbing to the invitation. That's what hurts. Ceder. Avoid anger. Do not accept invitations.
ago : crescent that dry, hard, cracked like a wall. Yesterday the street lights went out before noon. The cars started the queue at 11 pm.
Francisco cock: cock desolate not sing, never could put the cock crows am desolate I do not know why. This is fucking dumb, dumb born in Sarandi. He grew up in a corner. And just know bite calloused fingers. It's a passion. Cock, of course. Devastated but not a poor rooster. Paseandero arrogant. Release him in the backyard, on the other side of the fence, so they do not eat tomatoes, and then went round and round. I looked at him a lot. Gallo probation.
the pipe and mucus : always, with the beige canvas bag - burlap? - Mitre walks Lavalle, Italian peasant-hat campirano where he got it. Sudden onset of terror lonely Another frightened child? Damn brand of fear.
quoted: "Telling stories is telling lies."
her, its venom classic: What counts?, Counts for nothing, where history gets?: he : nothing. Never mind anything. Hate to tell. Pure literature makes against applied literature.
her, maliciously applied, snake in response, unsound, cut no history in two - story sense - here, events there, he : does not like references, not splash in the imitable. Was released from the cradle.
Rita's house, doors closed, blinds drawn. Elias looked at the hall a few days ago, painted yellow clearly, there was the meeting right there in despair, then that love crazy and neighborhood began in the moonlight, we favor that happiness is there in that meeting, she holds her legs Tero walking on the street not far from Pisa left his fourteen years cornered by mechanical Hollywood Park history Northwest Wind, now there looks to Elijah, so long without seeing it will be dull and she is afraid of losing to be a passage of life Rita, a poor tenement hallway she evoked the this fear is fear of the past but now I look at Elijah with those almond eyes are about to mourn skinny grimaces of disgust when you eat this thing with polenta and ham chuequita he eats it eats all the grace of blue skirt of maricastaña, missing you and she looks at Wilhelmine Rita drops on the leaves reach the hall. Now against the blue sky breathes Rita legs just rattle apart on the morning of slowness.
The fucking scary. It is old, old world, is cursed, and please, do not want it, I hate, fear putísimo fucking, fucking shit putísimo failure and their apologists.
It's there, it's almost an essence and put the handcuffs alone your soul, be sent to gayola good, to ask permission, to surrender to the authority because almost essential, in keeping with the predictable.
Sitting, looking out the window, the street or in a vacuum or front window to the neighbor who is going to sweep.
ambitions: fluctuating, messy, things Changuito, espadrille work, half Protestant hymn, complete with whispering whispering so you do not look sideways to reach infinite list hand.
quoted: "I become increasingly hard to parasites."
I wear the cassock of street left the bunker I leave the cave a little whorehouse leave the shutters open in Henrietta I forget what it was all why do not we mentioned it kicked the rooster and not soup or stew made occasional kick especially when the rooster outfit went boy shorts pique a child almost as obnoxious grandchildren bees of paradise.
Hugo Savino
0 comments:
Post a Comment