Forever Young

I watched "The Last Waltz" for the first time ever tonight. It's the last concert put together by "The Band," starring Rick Danko, Neil Young, Joni Mitchell, Neil Diamond, Bob Dylan, Ringo Starr... etc. to say goodbye for what they had given throughout the 60s and 70s. It's directed by Martin Scorsese and, honestly, good whether you actually like them or not. Check 'em out. As for me, I guess it's back to studying... Philosophy and Neuroscience. Yay.

The Band - Starring Bob Dylan - Forever Young

Besos.

Overworked & Underpaid

Observation leads me to the proposal of several axioms, all concerning the physical state of Myself & Surroundings while on school break (as distinct from vacation):

1. There will undoubtedly be 2 piles of clothes on the floor - one clean, one dirty. The use of drawers is altogether abandoned.
2. Daily attire will consist entirely of pajamas.
3. Cooking becomes perpetual until any & all edible ingredients are depleted. Getting to the supermarket becomes troublesome & thus quickly discarded as overrated.
4. "Flor's iPOD" goes from "enjoyable commodity" to "psychological necessity" - & condition of musiquitis worsens, producing further alienation from the external world.
5. All ringers are turned off, e-mails are left unread, & phone messages remain unchecked.
6. IQ boosts to unprecedented value, as Wikipedia is explored constantly & methodically.
7. Absolutely no other effort will be made to think, though certain senses will be exploited, most notably those of the aural & gustatory modalities.
8. There will be constant sighs of relaxation & just plain, utter delight.

On a more productive note, Owen has passed along an article that was recently printed in The Wall Street Journal & which has inspired me to pursue a new career. Argentina Answers to the Crazy Call Of Dr.Tangalanga.

Anyways, not going home for the holidays :-\ but will be well accompanied throughout the break. It's the Angel Youth Hostel - hoppin' & boppin' - so book now (!) while beds are still available. I get to be a tourist, finally & - oh! - I promise to post pics very soon, as I now have a digital camera with which to explore all of London! Yahooo! And P.S. Made it back from Amsterdam safely... alive & breathing, though barely standing. Ready for a sleeping marathon complete with fuzzy blankets, DVDs gone missing during the school year, & steaming hot chocolate. MMMmmmmmmmmmmm...life is good.

Beck - Where It's At (who knew he was so funny?)

Besos.

Esperando el Impacto

19 December, 2007 - 4.00am

Odile Arisel Perez. My roommate, but most importantly long time friend, has gone missing. She's nowhere to be found & hasn't been spotted anywhere in London within the last 24 hrs, not even in her favorite "pick-me-up" spot, 2nd floor of the LSE Library. Usually sandwiched between a large, 90-lb backpack & a boy w/ really, & I mean really, bad BO, Odile has definitely not set ground anywhere within a 3 km radius of the building, affirms LSE Library Security Guard, also Guardian Angel to Odile (thanks to her persistent hello's & genuine concern for under-represented minorities in the LSE Workforce).

Sources suggest a kidnapping, possibly by a quiet, suspiscious looking white man (see figure left) dressed in what has been described as a blue, oddly large, & poorly worn cape of some sort. After international cooperation & foreign intelligence aid, the garment has been decoded & identified as a flag - yes, of a small, definitely unknown, region of Spain by the name of Asturias (language: Bable - go figure). Odile was also inconspiciously shot interacting with potential Asturian culprit just days before her disappearance, in what appears to be a plea for safety, as made clear by the look of concern on her unweathered face (see figure right bottom).

The only traces left in her apartment - 1 set of keys, 1 empty glass, 3 tangerines, & 1 crab leg. So far, only 1 set of fingerprints have been discovered, though they appear to also be of Asturian decent! If she has been taken prisoner, she will most likely be concealed by her kidnapper but may attempt to signal to the external world via facial expressions of terror during unpredictable moments of opportunity. High-tech computing power at the Kusnir Institute of Emotion Detection (KIED) has put forth photographic images of how Odile may appear in such moments (see figure right top).

I affirm that, unfortunately, Odile wouldn't have been able to run away from danger, as she's usually wrapped in a 100-lb Eskimo coat that even Hulk Hogan would have trouble walking in - that is, she's undeniably unable to move even at normal human pace. I am in serious medical withdrawal & am not able to comment further regarding this issue, though I'll admit that I was found earlier laying nearly comatose in my bed mysteriously mouthing the words, Mi Sapita, over & over again. In conclusion... Odile, YOU ARE MISSED. Joke's over! Come home.

Dave Matthews Band (w/ Victor Wooten, bass) - #41

Besos.

Night Goggles

Geminid Meteor Shower, Dec. 13-14 - Check It.

Why is it always so cloudy in London? Even if the times worked out, we'd need a miracle to appreciate it from here. Maybe God will part the clouds, like he did the Red Sea...
Besos.

La Parte Risueña de Mi Nombre

Mis padres se inspiraron en parte en el libro de Jorge Amado, Doña Flor y Sus Dos Maridos para elegir mi nombre. Yo de chica vi la película pero aparentemente se me escapó “parte de su significado.” Después de leer esta sinopsis, me digo pícaramente: ¡Qué futuro me espera!

Nos encontramos en el pueblito brasileño Bahia, en los años veinte. La bella Floripides Guimaraes, más conocida como Doña Flor, está casada con el pícaro y mujeriego Valdomiro Santos Guimaraes, alias Vadinho. Si bien su marido es un irresponsable apostador y juerguero, Doña Flor se siente compensada con la ardiente vida sexual que le da su forajido esposo. Cuando, debido a la agitada vida que lleva, Vadinho muere de un infarto en pleno carnaval, Doña Flor siente que su vida (sexual) ha quedado vacía. La solitaria viuda acepta casarse con el respetable y pulcro Dr. Teodoro Madureira, un hombre metódico y responsable. Pero, pese a ser un ciudadano modelo, el nuevo esposo no logra cubrir el vacío pasional dejado por el ardiente Vadinho. Doña Flor reconoce que su nuevo marido, pese a ser un hombre ejemplar en todo lo demás, nunca le podrá satisfacer en el campo del deseo como su primer marido. Pero, de manera sobrenatural, Doña Flor verá la oportunidad de satisfacer su nostalgia sexual: Vadinho ha regresado al mundo de los vivos, solo visible a los ojos de ella... y dispuesto a saciar los deseos de la apasionada viuda como solo él sabe hacerlo.

No se queden con esta parcialidad, el libro es una joya.
Besos.

Tantas Ilusiones Convertidas en Canciones

Color is the keyboard, the eyes are the harmonies, the soul is the piano with many strings. The artist is the hand that plays, touching one key or another, to cause vibrations in the soul. -Wassily Kandinsky

2 of Kandinsky's Compositions: VI (above) & VII (below).

He called his paintings 'compositions' when they were elaborately planned & 'improvisations' when they were spontaneous. Nonetheless, he painted VII in 3 days (well, after the planning was finished)!

The Russian-born painter also happened to be a theorist. He was quite spiritual in nature & heavily influenced by theosophy, an old religious philosophy (that, incidentally, also inspired Ghandi in some way or another). Best of all, though, he was a music-color synesthete! Explains why music was always so intricately tied to his art - he'd try to "plunge into the depths of his soul" & paint what music made him feel, the purely phenomenological - well, his. He felt some inner necessity to express his emotional perceptions - was this partly a consequence of his synesthetic experiences? Anyway, his Compositions are an attempt, through art, to convey the same emotional powers as a musical composition. I've said too much. Ruins the moment. Back to the books it is...

Besos.

Boludeando Cuando Hay Que Estar Bien Serio

Porque yo
No quiero trabajar!
No quiero ir a estudiar!
No me quiero casar!
Y en la cabeza tenía la voz de mi viejo
Que me sonaba como un rulo de tambor...

Vos
Mejor que te afeites
Mejor que madures
Mejor que labures
Ya me cansé de que me tomes la cerveza
Te voy a dar con la guitarra en la cabeza!
(Los Auténticos Decadentes)

Flor estudiando muy seriamente, y con subrayador!
(Foto tomada clandestinamente por Agente Guti, INTERPOL.)

Niebla del Riachuelo- (Música de Juan Carlos Cobián)
Interpretación- F. Luciani (armónica) & D. Godfrid (piano)

Besos.

What Dreams May Come

I was thinking about the 3 professions I would've liked to pursue if my circumstances had been slightly different. The following are things I've loved, consistently, over the course of many, many years.

#1-an Astronaut, if I had been fearless when choosing my academic pursuits (fascination: outer space - need I say more?)
#2-an Airforce Pilot, if I had been male, weren't so lacking in spatial orientation, & less of a Pacifist (fascination: the sexy f-16)
#3-a Choreographer, if I had been a dancer (fascination: movement in general as form of expression, contemporary dance, music)

Not to say my dreams are shattered. There are still 2 professions that my imagination can entertain, however slim-to-none my chances of their materialization may be.
-a Freelance Writer for National Geographic, Scientific American (etc.)
-a Playing With People's Brains, in all of its inappropriate forms

And now, a very short (& subtitled in Spanish) excerpt from Waking Life (another of my all-time favorites), that so coherently ties together dreams, the Machine, & the persistence of a hope for their eventual disentanglement. Oh - &, not only is it animated, but also digitally rotoscoped, producing pleasurable sensations of surrealism. Enjoy!

Waking Life - Dreams for Free

Besos.

It Was To Be a Classic Affirmation...

Apologies – might be a long one today...

Part of the problem with insomnia is not knowing the cause, because, as such, it becomes almost impossible to treat effectively.

#1 Self-Diagnosis:

I’ve lately come to wonder whether the unpredictable emergence of my insomnia is merely a reflection of some sort of plea, by my unconscious, for more time in a day. There’s something odd about the fact that I absolutely refuse to do anything school-related after the conventional, light-mediated “bedtime,” no matter how much work I have or how many more hours I stay awake. With moonlight upon me and helplessly unable to sleep, I’m coerced to engage in any exploratory behavior that would indubitably be classified as completely unproductive & utterly irrelevant to my studies (at least directly).

You see, I believe I have developed what the Wise refer to as Procrastination; but, in my case, it has become so severe that it occurs, not only before, but also after any attempts at scholastic exertion (yes, I use ‘exertion’ intentionally here). On especially rainy days, it is even manifested intermittently between “fits” of academia. Could, in fact, my insomnia merely be an atypical extension of the aforementioned condition? That is – a compulsion to drag out, until the wee hours of the morning, the pleasurable effects of purposeless discovery (which is, sadly, mostly made possible by our ever-pervasive chupete electrónico, i.e. Google, Wikipedia, YouTube, Pandora, etc., in addition to the occasional Dr.Seuss book, which just can't be fully appreciated through a screen)?

#2 Recognition of Denial & Possibility of Solution:

Couldn't be. I love sleeping. But sometimes… I just can’t. And I refuse to take any real responsibility for my insomnia, since its (often unwelcome) advent occurs unwillingly. As an advocate of Existentialism, or at least of its foundational principles (Sartre’s “Existence precedes Essence”), I should admit that it's ultimately up to me whether (or not) I discover ways of controlling my own body, my own mind, so that I can finally lay my head on a pillow & fall asleep undisturbed. My ma says that insomnia isn’t anything that a little meditation can’t fix & though I think she’s right, it's so difficult to train ourselves to “let it all go” & accept our momentary "states-of-being". I'm not talking about relaxation, or about leading stress-free lives; you all know I definitely don't need any more of that. I'm talking about a genuine manipulation of mental states - whatever it is the Buddhist monks are doing when scientists measure their rises & falls in body temperature, neurotransmitter activation, & consciousness.

I guess that’s the reason we so easily turn to drugs; after all, it seems silly to work so hard to achieve a mental state that can so effortlessly be induced by the ingestion of illicit substances. Problem is – they don’t work &, unfortunately, we don’t learn.

Excerpt from Fear & Loathing in Las Vegas (one of my all-time favorites):

That was the fatal flaw in Tim Leary’s trip. He crashed America selling “consciousness expansion” without ever giving thought to the grim, meat-hook realities that were lying in wait for all those people that took him seriously.

All those pathetically eager acid freaks who thought they could buy peace and understanding for three bucks a hit.

But their loss and failure is ours too. What Leary took down with him was the central illusion of a whole lifestyle that he helped create. A generation of permanent cripples, failed seekers, who never understood the essential old-mystic fallacy of the acid culture: the desperate assumption that somebody, or at least some force, is tending the light at the end of the tunnel.

Besos.