Happiness is a warm gun
"Sí: soy un soñador. Porque un soñador es aquel que sólo encuentra su camino a la luz de la luna y cuyo castigo es ver el alba antes que el resto del mundo." Oscar Wilde

Esto sí es una buena causa...

By Morena
Para actualizar el blog!!!

Me pasa Prev un meme para bloguear el Quijote, y voy a cumplir:

y muchas veces le vino deseo de tomar la pluma, y darle fin al pie de la letra como allí se promete; y sin duda alguna lo hiciera, y aun saliera con ello, si otros mayores y continuos pensamientos no se lo estorbaran.

Tuvo muchas veces competencia con el cura de su lugar (que era hombre docto graduado en Sigüenza), sobre cuál había sido mejor caballero, Palmerín de Inglaterra o Amadís de Gaula; mas maese Nicolás, barbero del mismo pueblo, decía que ninguno llegaba al caballero del Febo, y que si alguno se le podía comparar, era don Galaor, hermano de Amadís de Gaula, porque tenía muy acomodada condición para todo; que no era caballero melindroso, ni tan llorón como su hermano, y que en lo de la valentía no le iba en zaga.

En resolución, él se enfrascó tanto en su lectura, que se le pasaban las noches leyendo de claro en claro, y los días de turbio en turbio, y así, del poco dormir y del mucho leer, se le secó el cerebro, de manera que vino a perder el juicio. Llenósele la fantasía de todo aquello que leía en los libros, así de encantamientos, como de pendencias, batallas, desafíos, heridas, requiebros, amores, tormentas y disparates imposibles, y asentósele de tal modo en la imaginación que era verdad toda aquella máquina de aquellas soñadas invenciones que leía, que para él no había otra historia más cierta en el mundo.

¡¡Hala!! Tercer y cuarto párrafos del capítulo primero, y para ver si conseguimos bloguearlo entero le paso el meme a mi amigas Maya y Alawen, a Marce y a Samuel.

La iniciativa en Es por Madrid y la manera de hacer trampa en Como ser de derechas y no morir en el intento.

Que Claudedeu vuelve

By Nemesio Cabra
Había una vez un tipo al que conocí en persona. Se llamaba Nicolás Claudedeu y, todo hay que decirlo, estaba como una puta cabra. No se moleste el ofendido, que no es menos el que ofende. Tampoco se molesten ustedes, estimados lectores, porque Nicolás no está muerto. Si alguien quería matarlo, seguirá teniendo ocasión para hacerlo. Además, sigue estando como una puta cabra. El delirio mental al que es sometido por la presión interna de su circulación sanguínea queda patente en que, al parecer, en su regreso a la blogosfera el día 28 de abril de 2009, se cree una estrella del rock recién fichada por John Hammond para Columbia Records. Como Bob Dylan, Bruce Springsteen o Leonard Cohen. ¿Acaso no podía conformarse con la Sociedad General de Autores? Manda narices. He aquí el comunicado oficial que una supuesta agencia de Columbia Records remite a varios blogs para que se hagan eco de la noticia:


Coinciding with the release of his long-time colaborator and friend Jack Frost's new album 'Together Through Life', Nicolas Claudedeu has found a new way of life and happiness in the creation of a new blog that will open his doors on april, 28th, with the grace of God.

"I fell something new in this return", coments Claudedeu to Bill Flanagan about the new stage of his life in his very first interview. "It's kind-a something like whatever I did in the past, but with a new breathe. Anyway, ya know, I'm constantly changing the way of looking forward. It's not like that way of thinking... I don't want to repeat the same things. So this will be about making possible the change, 'bout the happiness in a deforming world, 'bout dynamic in laziness".

During this ten-months break, Claudedeu has spent more of time writing and composing new material at his home in Asturias, in a remote village. "I took a break. When I got tired of that Republic", said Nicolas 'bout the world-record República de Guadalmecín, which had more than 10,000 visits during three long years of devasting physical and emocional rescue, "I needed something different. Just like a long way to Acapulco, a during break of mysticism, to look for myself and see what was happening at that time".

Nicolas has recognized that the continuing fight with the political power consumed his soul. "I was down and out, and I didn't know what to do. Ya know, it was something like David and Golliat. But in this case, Golliat was the Invincible Navy or whatever like that. And I felt... I didn't have forces to fight. I was losing my health, and somebody said: "You must stop". He was very comprehensive, and intelligent, so I stopped. And then I had the chance to make something different. And I did something different. I began fishing, cooking, breathed new air, went to the East and the West and saw kind-of things that made me think... It was something new for me".

"At one point, I know that I was coward", said Claudedeu 'bout his blogosphere's mates. "Those people have hearts full of joy and hope, and I was really coward 'cauze I left the ground. And thinking 'bout that time, maybe I had to wait and see what was happening out there. Ya' know, you can imagine... You must be strong and go on, but right now, I think I have 'nough weight to throw away, but not then".

"On the other hand, it was me who had the chance to make something new. And I made those things... I prepared ev'rything to go out. I thought: 'Well, maybe we can rent a basement in Shanghai, Dublin, Carnegie Hall, London, Amarillo, ya know, everywhere except Spain. I was tired 'bout Spain. I was angry. I wanted to renounce to Spain, all that fucking shit, and I thought: 'Well, what's my link with this parade?'. But there was a tight connection that I couldn't broke. So, y'a can imagine, I stayed here for long weeks, looking for a voice that'd help me".

Although he has been recognized as atheist, Claudedeu prefers to talk 'bout religion in a casual way. "It's not ev'rything 'bout believers or atheists. It's more than that. It's not black or white, ya know what I mean... I knew a men -he was atheist- that said: 'Well, folk, you must read the Holy Bible'. And I said: What? You're a fuckin' atheist. What can you say 'bout that?' But then again I knew what he was refering to. Ya know, though you don't believe in God or whatever, the Writings are problably the strongest reference to love and life. And it helped me so much during that weeks. It strengthened my soul".

After the first month, Claudedeu took a new break returning to the thecnological path. "I read the mail. I didn't surprise when I didn't see too much. The same things in the same place. The same news and the same histories. I thought: 'Shit, this is the first of nowhere'. And then I understood that the problem was not me: it was the mass media, the news, the TV, the radio, ever'ythin'. I began to hate all those things that one day I read or listen to, and I began to hate everything in the news, from the President to the ECO of the National Bank. Something like anarchism in my veins, without blood, without a breath".

But then again, he returned to the sand and the sea. In words of Nicolas: "There was nothing like that. Always, when I got a problem, I took the train and went to the first beach. Then I sat down, while the dog ran free, and looked at the horizon in the sea. But someday, I began practising exercise. That was july, I think, or august. That's not important. Anyway, when two worlds collide, you can stay far away and forget what you are. And that's what happened to me. It was therapeutical. Like born again. Or it was just less cholesterol in my circulatory sistem, or less fat, I really don't know. How could I know it?".

With the inminent returning to the studio system, Claudedeu spent some of the last sunny days reading books and assimilating knowledges. But someday, something changed. "Well, my uncle brought me a PC with no internet. I was accustomed to the first years. If there was a time when I need no internet, why should I live connected now? There was a fucking world out there. But, anyway, I took a look of the new computer. And after some months without writing, I recovered the word".

Claudedeu remembers the moment: "Well, it was some kind-a curious. The last two years I worked in terms of politic and music. I didn't know what to talk about. I had the love for the contemporany music and a special hate for politics. Not a rabious hate, just the normal view of a citizen tired of the same fuckin' shit day by day with fuckin' people sleeping on cotton fields. But now I was not talking about politic or music. I was writing a new experience, something that, in fact, was a real experience. The double feeling of that moment was curious. I didn't have the choice to write something new 'till that moment. And, well, I suppose that then it came the beer and the congratulations".

"Also... There was something new. I began writing in a different way. I don't know.. Well, ya suppose I have to made the same ol' things with the same ol' writings. But it was new. It was a trascendent moment. I was floating in another plane, in another time. Like a tour-de-force, but with completely renoved energies and a new way of thinking".

Claudedeu was proud about the versatility of his voice. "Well, I was reading... I don't know, but Kerouac and Ginsberg were there. They are in the library, and I read them in the summer. It was a new movement, a new way of freedom-of-speech on the paper. I haven't read nothing like that before. And, well, of course I read more, focusing in the studio. And all the books began playing camaraderie with my imagination, and they supported what I meant to be in the present".

Anyway, Nicolas said that he doesn't change his point of view. "No, I don't. You know... when you are suffering those things 'cause there are moments of life when you get tired of lies and glooms, you can't be friend of the enemies. You must fight against them. And though I stopped playing the game, I kept on goin' in the same ol' way during that time. I just used the energies in another form, with music. Y'a know, well, Guthrie had a guitar with the motto: 'This instrument kills fascist'. That was all about. I was killing fascists too. In another way. Writing".

In november of 2008, after three months of writing new material, Claudedeu had the change to return to Internet. "Well, I felt forced to return. I had to made a six-months course of language with the University, and it was the only way to do. But in any case I continued writing. There was no blockade, but I felt I didn't have the force of two years before. So I felt confining in the studio, learning new things, and I forgot 'bout the writing".

"By then, I have already wrote 30 new articles, or parragraphs, or paranoias, or whatever, you know. I think I wrote good things and bad things, but I didn't know what to do with them. So I began yielding articles to people in the blogosphere. I think... The first of that was something 'bout the Spanish Constitution, in december... Something strange, not really good. Now I think it was a depressing article. Or well, something 'bout Electric Arguments, by The Fireman. A good record to listen to that blew me away. They both were published in La Hoja del Arce by a friend of mine, Arcendo, who always was trying to persuade me to return. Well, as a last resort, he won the battle! And then I also sent something to Persio, who was working in a book, Nacionalismos y otros fantasmas, where I contributed to. But, anyway, it was a minimal thing compared with the eighty lenghty speils I was giving".

Now, after ten months, Claudedeu is proud to announce his return to life and form with "Behind the ritual", the continuing story of a desperado man who tries to englobe a new vision of an ending world. "There is certain dynamic that I have recovered, and I need the contact with those people I once left. I don't know if they're gonna kill me. I hope so! But, in fact, I need to comunicate. Like there is not too much people communicating, I have to found my place in the sun. It's too big for me, but too small for my conscience".

"Behind the ritual" will host new contents that'll expand the former "Republic of Guadalmecin". Claudedeu comments: "It won't be the same. It will be something new, something very different. There will be a nucleus. If Guadalmecín was a parallel world to the reality, with gardens and flowers and a constant way of thinking, Behind... will take a break. It'll have a condensed DNA that won't express something. It will be part of some dignitaries that I've been working. It will be chaos and creation between a unchangeable space. With no definition".

The new "Behind the ritual" blog will open the doors on april, 28th. Check out your e-mail for new information.

Thanks for your support,

Your friends at Columbia Records

Bifurcación culebroide

By Nemesio Cabra
Rancho yanqui. Flecha Rota. Nemesio Cabra compartía vapores marianos y bebida espiritual con un viejo compatriota. Compatriota lejano. En rancho yanqui. Su hogar, la granja, yacía al fondo. Él aseguraba que la puerta distaba cinco pies y dos pulgadas. A Nemesio se le antojaban veinte pies y cinco yardas. Él rió, y aseguró que Nemesio era un hijo de la gran puta. Nemesio le asestó un leve puñetazo en la cara y los dos sonrieron. "Menudo cabrón estás hecho", dijo Nemesio entre dientes. Y a continuación, añadió: "¿Tienes algo nuevo para mí?". El compatriota sacó un iPod, y Nemesio escupió sobre él. "¿Qué haces, tío?", inquirió el compatriota canadiense. "Escupir sobre ese invento del diablo", contestó Nemesio mientras lo lanzaba a la laguna. Y el compatriota canadiense rió a carcajada limpia. "Tío, tienes razón", dijo a Nemesio, golpeándole levemente en el hombro. "Yo también lo odio". "Ya lo sabía", dijo Nemesio, "pero ahora dime qué tienes de nuevo. Sé que lo guardas todo en acetato". "¿Por qué tanto interés?", preguntó el compatriota. "Porque te amo", dijo Nemesio. Y los dos exhalaron más humo y se revolcaron por el prado en base a una risa nerviosa e histriónica irremediable que retorcía los movimientos peristálticos del intestino.

Cinco minutos después de asimilar lo nuevo del compatriota canadiense, Nemesio, con una cámara rudimentaria colgando del pecho y una cajetilla con papel de liar en el bolsillo, le dijo al camarada: "Tío, tengo una idea". Colocó la cámara sobre un trípode y enfocó al compatriota. La granja, al fondo, parecía seguir distando veinte pies y cinco yardas. Lanzó una manzana a su compatriota, ¡una manzana!, colocó unos bufles tras la cámara, dio comienzo a la grabación y asestó un derechazo al compatriota. "Baila", le inquirió. "Baila tú, hijo de la gran puta", replicó él. Y con los primeros toques de baqueta, one, two, three, ambos bailaron. Aunque el resultado sólo muestra lo hecho por el compatriota canadiense. "Soy una estrella del rock. Las ventas han caido. Pero aún te tengo a ti. Gracias. Descárgatelo. Suena como la mierda".