How did he do? More than two months? I had almost forgotten the Blogger entry. And I almost forgot that I have a blog and should be updated. It has been two months off or posteantes posters, but the truth is I've been a season quite thick. Thick, it needed a little water to clarify the sauce. " The secret is to not abuse sauces, a sea quoted a scholar to start (*).
Anyway, this post rentrée will be brief and somewhat cryptic to me who does not know personally. Even for some who know me in the flesh, bone and remnants of gin & tonic flowing through my arteries. I promise to mend the flat to myself and get back to where it used to, that is, to give you clean wax I ZETAPAD soils and Mariano. They have given us memorable moments this summer that I have not noticed these lines by saying that the sauce thickens, and so and so.
I will literally transcribe post I wrote yesterday on another blog I had. And I do mean " had " because the alternative blog perished yesterday at 05:45 am by irrevocable decision of the administrator, or myself (" i-rre-vo-ca-ble, not a word more" , tell the Baron Clappique of Malraux in the Shanghai of the 30's). This entry gives season ahead and "farewell and close" to those two posts I wrote earlier this year over that of the Duchess Consort and all that. Some will remember, others not so and can be found on the right sidebar where it says "All aircraft landed" are those of "Pafuera cobwebs" and the next " Vincerò All'alba .
The fact is that on Saturday morning I got up and freshly showered. I (as usual) I shower every morning, but the truth is that I woke up as if he needed it. I had got rid of the scum, grime and scab in her head for some time. As if he had dreamed of a shower gel that those used in hospitals to kill germs, viruses, bacteria and all who pass near the sink (* 2) . When I got home last night, I wrote the post that sentenced to death and summarily executed the alternative blog. Delenda est Duchessa, in my head I mean.
suddenly remembered a Paris museum, one that many people will not like the Louvre or Orsay. The Musée Marmottan Monet in the heart of 16th arrondissement , the Salamanca district of Paris. It displays the picture of Claude Monet the Impressionist movement its name, " Impression, soleil levant " (Impression, rising sun). I felt as well as the title of the picture. On Friday night I had a revelation, and the sun came out again as usual but I did not realized until then. A good friend of mine would say here, "Sunrise, which is no small", citing his favorite movie but Monet has nothing to do with José Luis Cuerda.
And I quote, with no foreshadowing:
"Tonight was on the Moss with a friend when suddenly appeared a Aleph dressed in black in a corner of the bar, next to a column next to curtain. In the manner of Borges, the Aleph contained the entire world and therefore all that is. Or rather in this case, all that was. The Aleph noticed my presence and opened his eyes Bavarian porcelain plates. I ordered a Corona with lime slice. They gave me lemon. A while later the Aleph black dress left the bar without looking right by me while I hurried to greet my beer with slice of lemon. But I did not mind: I had already seen her through the world is big, very big. Much bigger than her and me. Much larger than an Aleph the bottom right corner of a trendy bar. He had seen that the world does not stop or stops. I've seen all that is or what it was, but mostly I've seen all that could have been but is not. And the latter has not been through the Aleph . Now you can take down the old house on Garay Street: The Aleph I've seen is the past, and as such I do not care.
Aleph When he left the bar, suddenly and way of Sartre, I am of again. I was aware of it and left me forever Bouville particular. " One of these days ... you'll miss me, honey " was played recently in the phonograph Rendez-vous des Cheminots . Trouble brews and leave me forever to write about the Marquis de Rollebon, or the Duchess Consort. At least on this. Pack your things and go back to Paris, Monsieur Roquentin . But there is no nausea, on the contrary: There is freedom. My freedom. I exist because I'm free. Anny stay in London forever and never become the perfect moments. Of Me. Are there? Am. Exist. Yo.
Today I finished my journey through the nine circles of Hell and Purgatory with Virgil as people who love me and who I want. Today I was aware that I am Aligheri, not a lost soul condemned to purge their sins. That my journey is temporary and is over. Me Beatrice discovers the Empyrean and return to the world. My World. " Lasciate ogni speranza, voi ch'entrate !" That's not for me: I was just passing through.
going through hell I can be a Guelph Florence, but of course I become a gulf Sebastian.
Dante Carlos Argentino Daneri Roquentin Aligheri-Antoine. An incoherent mixture borrowed only to say that sometimes, born for something new, something old must die.
La Duchesse est morte!
Vive la Duchesse!
Zaragoza, September 12, 2009 5:45 a.m. "
I said. (" He-di-cho, not a word more! "Repeated Clappique , again) (* 3)
(*) Vitalstatistix in "The Chieftain's Shield." Interesting that the name of the head of the Gallic tribe comes from French "à bras raccourcis " something and "tooth and nail . That is not the same as" Embrace "by course.
(* 2) Despite that feeling cool and fresh, of course I showered that morning.
(* 3) Since I'm, quote them all: Clappique Baron, for those who do not know, is a character The Human Condition, Andre Malraux.
