Wednesday, February 1

Out of life's school of war—what doesn't kill me, makes me stronger. 
Friedrich Nietzsche

Tuesday, January 31

Eu não me importo

    

"E agora vais dizer a toda gente que a culpa é minha
E que é em mim que mora a razão do teu desgosto
Só eu sei o tanto que eu já chorei sozinha
Se queres dar o meu nome a tua raiva, ei"

Monday, October 10

 "There isn't any secret formula or method. You learn to love by loving - by paying attention and doing what one thereby discovers has to be done."

Aldous Huxley, Time Must Have a Stop

Tuesday, October 4

Monday, February 28

Saturday, February 5


"Once one accepts evil – and rejection in love is a significant cause for doing so – cruelty follows quickly."

Orhan Pamuk, My Name is Red

Monday, November 29

Alan Rickman's "My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun"


 Sonnet 130

My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun;
Coral is far more red than her lips' red;
If snow be white, why then her breasts are dun;
If hairs be wires, black wires grow on her head.
I have seen roses damasked, red and white,
But no such roses see I in her cheeks;
And in some perfumes is there more delight
Than in the breath that from my mistress reeks.
I love to hear her speak, yet well I know
That music hath a far more pleasing sound;
I grant I never saw a goddess go;
My mistress when she walks treads on the ground.
And yet, by heaven, I think my love as rare
As any she belied with false compare.

Thursday, November 25

Wedding of reality with the demon of what is impossible

 "World history compels us to recognize Man's continuous, inexhaustible capacity to invent unrealizable projects. In the effort to realize them, he achieves many things, he creates innumerable realities that so-called Nature is incapable of producing for itself. The only thing that Man does not achieve is, precisely, what he he proposes to - let it be said to his credit. This wedding of reality with the demon of what is impossible supplies the universe with the only growth that it is capable of. For that reason, it is very important to emphasize that everything - that is, everything, worthwhile, everything truly human - is difficult, very difficult; so much so, that it is impossible."

José Ortega y Gasset, in The Misery and the Splendor of Translation

Tuesday, November 23

Downtown

 

"I loved Mor, but I never appreciated her enough. I never really understood how wonderful it was to always have someone to talk to who would know what you were talking about, and someone to play with who understood the kind of things I wanted to play."

Jo Walton, in Among others

A pensar em ti, C.

Monday, September 27

Feita de maresia


Mar, metade da minha alma é feita de maresia
Pois é pela mesma inquietação e nostalgia,
Que há no vasto clamor da maré cheia,
Que nunca nenhum bem me satisfez.
E é porque as tuas ondas desfeitas pela areia
Mais fortes se levantam outra vez,
Que após cada queda caminho para a vida,
Por uma nova ilusão entontecida.

E se vou dizendo aos astros o meu mal
É porque também tu revoltado e teatral
Fazes soar a tua dor pelas alturas.
E se antes de tudo odeio e fujo
O que é impuro, profano e sujo,
É só porque as tuas ondas são puras.

Sophia de Mello Breyner Andresen

Monday, August 23

Wednesday, August 18

E yo lo creo

 Un año después, eso de vivir en los Países Bajos. Me preguntan como me siento, que lo debo escribir. Pero el problema es que… No vivo aquí hacia un año. Vivo aquí hacía tres, creo. Ni lo sé, que de mala soy con datas. Pero eso sí sé qué aún no me siento en casa. Todo suele ser complicado, a veces, complicado de llorar en un novelo todo el día echada sobre el sofá. No es que no comprenda de donde viene eso, que lo comprendo, que tiene que ver con mi separación de T., y todo que ha pasado desde entonces, más Covid, esa puta mierda que fue como un stop en todas nos vidas. Nada hace mucho sentido, hoy. Con la excepción, talvez, de ello. Sin excepción. Ello me hace sentir que todo lo ha valido a peña, incluso esa dolor y esa duda, esas culpas que cargué por demasiado tiempo. Y que me puedo poner rara, que puedo escribir en Español mesmo se quiera, que no es ni mi lengua nativa ni nada, pero yo puedo hacer todo lo que me die las ganas, cuando me die las ganas, porque está bien. Que yo viva feliz, que me lo merezco, y que no pasa nada. No pasa nada, me dice ello, e yo lo creo.

Friday, August 13

I miss you


"To see you when I wake up
Is a gift I didn't think could be real
To know that you feel the same as I do
Is a three-fold utopian dream Y
ou do something to me that I can't explain"

Sunday, August 8

I call it home

If home is where the heart is,
then as a traveler,
my home is nomadic.

Diasporic static,
shock me with these memories.
I feel it all.

I take home with me.
I could never be alone.

As an immigrant,
I'm always home, I'm always home.

I hope for the world
to feel what I'm feeling.
Their love is a one in a million.

I know my heart is not a house,
but I call it home.

I call it home.
I call it home.
I call you home.

Slam poetry, Ginny and Georgia series

Monday, July 26

Tuesday, July 20

“La pena es pura y es sagrada” 

in La ridícula idea de no volver a verte, Rosa Montero (quoting Paul Theroux)

Tuesday, July 13

XIV

Me falta tiempo para celebrar tus cabellos.
Uno por uno debo contarlos y alabarlos:
otros amantes quieren vivir con ciertos ojos,
yo sólo quiero ser tu peluquero.

En Italia te bautizaron Medusa
por la encrespada y alta luz de tu cabellera.
Yo te llamo chascona mía y enmarañada:
mi corazón conoce las puertas de tu pelo.

Cuando tú te extravíes en tus propios cabellos,
no me olvides, acuérdate que te amo,
no me dejes perdido ir sin tu cabellera

por el mundo sombrío de todos los caminos
que sólo tiene sombra, transitorios dolores,
hasta que el sol sube a la torre de tu pelo.

Pablo Neruda, in Cien Sonetos de Amor