jueves, 3 de febrero de 2011

HOY ESCRIBÍ SÓLO POR ESCRIBIR/TODAY I WROTE JUST FOR WRITING

¿Nunca sentiste, mientras estás haciendo las tostadas, un deseo compulsivo de tirarle al tostador eléctrico un vaso de agua? Yo sí, pero me contuve. Una vez, cortando el cesped, pasé sobre un sapo con la máquina y lo despedacé. Fue imposible de evitar, estaba entre el pasto alto, yo no lo vi. No fue divertido. Cuando enciendo un fósforo pienso que podría encender una vela, o provocar un incendio que queme cien hectareas de bosque. Pero quito mi mano de la pinocha. Cuando mato a una mosca, pienso que en un segundo destruí millones de años de evolución. Y no me creo Dios.
Anoche yo soñé que iba caminando por un camino de tierra, muy largo, muy recto, rodeado de oscuridad, y que con cada paso que yo daba, detrás mio el camino iba cayendo como si fueran ladrillos que caían al vacío, pero el camino nunca terminaba. Probablemente, alguien llevaba la contabilidad de cuántos ladrillos caían. Uno, dos, tres.... millones, millones, millones.
Un día de estos, cuando llueva mucho, voy a salir y me voy a quedar parado debajo de la lluvia, para ver cuánto aguanto con los ojos cerrados, imaginando que no parará de llover jamás. A lo mejor, por llevarme la contra, la Naturaleza decide que la lluvia no se detenga por un millón de años. Bueno, deberé acostumbrarme.


Have you ever felt, while you're doing toast, the compulsive desire to throw a glass of water within the electric toaster? I do, but I refrained. Once, cutting the grass, I went on a toad with the machine and cut it in pieces.It was impossible to avoid, he was among the tall grass, I did not see. It was not funny. When I light a match, I think I could light a candle or a fire that burns one hundred hectares of forest. But I remove my hand from the pine needles. When I kill a fly, I think that in a second destroyed millions of years of evolution. And I do not believe God.
Last night I dreamed I was walking down a dirt road, very long, very straight, surrounded by darkness, and that with every step I took, the road behind me was falling like bricks falling into the void, but the road never ended. Probably, someone had the accounts of how many bricks fell. One, two, three .... million, million, million. One of these days, when it rains a lot, I'm going out and I'll be standing in the rain, to see how I stand with my eyes closed, imagining that never stops raining. Maybe, just to contradict, the Nature decides that the rain did not stop for a million years. Well, I'm going to have to get used to.


12 comentarios:

Marcela Calderón dijo...

guau...
Me gustó el texto. Y más me gustó esa pintura. Sólo de manchas. Sapomanchas. Lindo :)

Andrew Finnie dijo...

Arr you illustrate your life! Then you must start at the beginning perhaps. The poor toad _ I like how you have hidden him in your work - as he was hidden in the tall grass, at first I thought abtsract, how abstract! But now I think camoflage, light and delicate, how it should be.

Good luck with the rain.
Oh it's interesting how we want to do what we should not, how we have the power within our grasp to be murderers of humans and forests. And yet we do not do it (mostly).

I should admit I whippersnippered a snake once - same thin, long grass, big mechanical thing in my hand slicing the grass, then wiggling black snake, one half one way the other half the other way. Black snakes are bad poisonous but don't deserve the 'chop'.

Me, I always like to think of jumping from the window of a moving car on the highway going at 120 k, and grabbing the road tarmac with my teeth as I land- this I have not done

haveagreatweegend!

Beautiful image the bricks falling away

Malena dijo...

Hay día que escribo porque tengo ganas de escribir, pero no tengo nada que decir. No importa; escribo igual.
No puedo matar a las arañas; me dan lástima. Solo las espanto. A las moscas tampoco. A los mosquitos si, porque son dañinos.
Los sapos me dan asco, mucho asco. Y me siento culpable por tenerles asco, pobres bichos. Son feos, nada más.
Con la tostadora no me la agarré nunca, pero a la plancha la estrolaría contra la pared más de una vez.
Cada vez que enciendo un fósforo recuerdo que provoqué un incendio.

Que sé yo ... pequeños pensamientos nocturno. :)

Sympathy for The Devil dijo...

to be completely honest, i cant keep my eyes off pictures of Tino.... lol :D

Sympathy for The Devil dijo...

be careful of the falling bricks....the end of nothing is really important. We'll see.

Pitu dijo...

siiii....alguna vez tuve algunas tentaciones parecidas...menos mal que mi angelito me sujetó! Buen finde roberto!!!

art is jokken dijo...

I answer just for answering….
Several years ago I was also very interested by the same phenomenon. One of my illustrations (Sunday Afternoon) was inspired by summertime happening. Laying in the grass on my belly, tired from the high temperature in the late afternoon, the smell of newly mowed grass.....
I noticed something very dramatic happening in front of me: there was a little wounded fly. The poor creature was hit by a grass-mower; unable to continue its lively flight. Luckily the injury was not severe and the little fly was able to reunite with his friends some minutes later.

I can conclude that history teach us nothing. How many times we will chop unconsciously our hidden "fellows" inhabiting our closest grass fields in our backyards? How many times we will cook unwanted little creatures on the vegetable while preparing the dinner? Well, I do not know. But such things happen. It is not "directed" from somewhere remote and hazy place as some want believe…

art is jokken dijo...

But with the bricks falling down... this is different story. Be happy it was just a dream. I got once real brick on my head.... a piece of brick , but big enough to make a nasty hole in my head... I wished it was a dream. Unfortunately it was not....
But I am still here..

Pitu dijo...

roberto, qué es el viajero???

art is jokken dijo...

The head is actually already sealed, and that is good: ideas can not fly away with the wind. (and today we have a lot of wind here!)
Wonderful about bricks "parked" in the brain....bonus of few years extra!
I raise my glass in a toast to your great message! (and believe me or not-
Cabernet Sauvignon from.. yes, Argentina)

A.S dijo...

Verde...bcrzzzzz...rojo.
(un sapo en una licuadora)
(niños, no hagan esto sin la supervisión de un adulto)

Ernesto y Felisa dijo...

Fantástico, me encantó leer esto, y ver esa acuarela.
Bravo Roberto, y gracias.
Felisa