30 de junio de 2008

WALKING IN THE AIR - Peter Auty & Sinfonia of London

video

"The Snowman" es un libro infantil inglés ilustrado escrito por Raymond Briggs y publicado en 1978. En 1982 el libro se convirtió en un cortometraje de animación de Dianne Jackson y fue nominado al Oscar en el rubro "Mejor Corto Animado" en 1983. El tema "Walking In The Air" fue escrito especialmente por Howard Blake para la película.


We're walking in the air
We're floating in the moonlit sky
The people far below are sleeping as we fly

I'm holding very tight
I'm riding in the midnight blue
I'm finding I can fly so high above with you

Far across the world
The villages go by like dreams
The rivers and the hills, the forests and the streams

Children gaze open mouth taken by surprise
Nobody down below believes their eyes

We're surfing in the air
We're swimming in the frozen sky
We're drifting over icy mountains floating by

Suddenly swooping low on an ocean deep
Arousing of a mighty monster from its sleep

We're walking in the air
We're floating in the midnight sky
And everyone who sees us greets us as we fly


29 de junio de 2008

PROTECTOR SOLAR

video

28 de junio de 2008

SAINT-EX


«Si me derriban no extrañaré nada.

El hormiguero del futuro me asusta
y
odio su virtud robótica. Yo nací
para
jardinero. Me despido.»

(Última anotación del diario personal
de Antoine de Saint-Exupéry)

27 de junio de 2008

UNO MISMO


En estos momentos tuve una certeza fulminante: cada uno tenía una misión, pero ésta no podía ser elegida, definida o administrada a voluntad. Era un error desear nuevos dioses, y completamente falso querer dar algo al mundo. No existía ningún deber, ninguno, para un hombre consciente, excepto el de buscarse a sí mismo, afirmarse en su interior, tantear un camino hacia adelante sin preocuparse de la meta a que pudiera conducir.

Aquel descubrimiento me conmovió profundamente; éste fue el fruto de aquella experiencia. Yo había jugado a menudo con imágenes del futuro y soñado con papeles que me pudieran estar destinados, de poeta quizá, de profeta, de pintor o de cualquier otra cosa. Aquellas imágenes no valían nada. Yo no estaba en el mundo para escribir, predicar o pintar; ni yo ni nadie estaba para eso. Tales cosas podían surgir marginalmente. La misión verdadera de cada uno era llegar a ser uno mismo. Se podía llegar a poeta o a loco, a profeta o a criminal; eso no era asunto de uno; a fin de cuentas carecía de importancia. Lo que importaba era encontrar su propio destino -no un destino cualquiera- y vivirlo por completo. Todo lo demás eran medianías, un intento de evasión, de buscar refugio en el ideal de la masa; era amoldarse; era miedo ante la propia individualidad.

H.Hesse, Demian

26 de junio de 2008

UN PAÍS CON EL NOMBRE DE UN RÍO - Jorge Drexler

video

Vengo de un prado vacío
un país con el nombre de un río
un edén olvidado
un campo al costado del mar
pocos caminos abiertos
todos los ojos en el aeropuerto
unos años dorados
un pueblo habituado a añorar

Cómo me cuesta quererte
me cuesta perderte
me cuesta olvidar
el olor de la tierra mojada
la brisa del mar...
brisa del mar,
llévame hasta mi casa
brisa del mar

Un sueño y un pasaporte
como las aves buscamos el norte
cuando el invierno se acerca
y el frío
comienza a apretar
y éste es un invierno largo
van varios lustros en tragos amargos
y nos hicimos mayores
esperando las flores del jacarandá


Cómo me cuesta marcharme
me cuesta quedarme
me cuesta olvidar
el olor de la tierra mojada
la brisa del mar...
brisa del mar,
llévame hasta mi casa
brisa del mar...

25 de junio de 2008

SPLENDOUR IN THE GRASS


What though the radiance
which was once so bright
Be now for ever taken from my sight,
Though nothing can bring back the hour
Of splendour in the grass,
of glory in the flower,
We will grieve not, rather find
Strength in what remains behind;
In the primal sympathy
Which having been must ever be;
In the soothing thoughts that spring
Out of human suffering;
In the faith that looks through death,
In years that bring the philosophic mind.

William Wordsworth

24 de junio de 2008

MÉMOIRES D'UN AMNÉSIQUE - Erik Satie

LA JOURNÉE DU MUSICIEN

L'artiste doit régler sa vie.
Voici I'horaire précis de mes actes journaliers:
Mon lever: à 7h.18; inspiré: de 10h.23 à 11h.47. Je déjeune à 12h.11 et quitte la table à 12h.14.
Salutaire promenade à cheval, dans Ie fond de mon parc: de 13h.19 a 14h.53. Autre inspiration: de 15h.12 à 16h.07.
Ocupations diverses (escrime, réflexions, immobilité, visites, conntemplation, dexterité, natation, etc...): de 16h.21 à 18h.47.
Le dîner est servi à 19h.16 et terminé a 19h.20. Viennent des lectures symphoniques, à haute voix: de 20h.09 à 21h.59.
Mon coucher a lieu régulierement à 22h.37. Hebdomadairement, réveil en sursaut à 3h.19 (le mardi).
Je ne mange que des aliments blancs: des œufs, du sucre, des os rapés; de la graisse d'animaux morts; du veau, du sel, des noix de coco, du poulet cuit dans de l'eau blanche; des moisissures de fruits, du riz, des navets; du boudin camphré, des pâtes, du fromage (blanc), de la salade de coton et de certains poissons (sans la peau).
Je fais bouillir mon vin, que je bois froid avec du jus de fuchsia.
J'ai bon appetit; mais je ne parle jamais en mangeant, de peur de m'étrangler.
Je respire avec soin (peu à la fois). Je danse très rarement. En marchant, je me tiens par les côtés et regarde fixement derrière moi.
D'aspect très serieux, si je ris, c'est sans Ie faire exprès. Je m'en excuse toujours et avec affabilité.
Je ne dors que d'un œil; mon sommeil est très dur. Mon lit est rond, percé d'un trou pour le passage de la tête. Toutes les heures, un domestique prend ma température et m'en donne une autre.
Depuis long temps, je suis abonné à un journal de modes. Je porte un bonnet blanc, des bas blancs et un gilet blanc.
Mon médecin m'a toujours dit de fumer. Il ajoute à ses conseils: "Fumez, mon ami: sans cela, un autre fumera à votre-place."

ERIK SATIE, Février 1913.

23 de junio de 2008

THE CHIEFTAINS AT GLASTONBURY 3 WITH DEREK BELL (1982)

video

22 de junio de 2008

A "CHUANG-TZU—LIKE" DREAM


«A doctor who specializes in skin diseases
will dream that he has fallen asleep
in front of the television.
Later, he will wake up in front of the
television, but not remember his dream.»

Ocean Twelve, Steve Soderbergh, 2004

21 de junio de 2008

THE CHIEFTAINS AT GLASTONBURY 2 (1982)

video

20 de junio de 2008

IS THAT SO?


«No man is happy without a delusion of some kind.
Delusions are as necessary to our happiness as realities.»

Christian Nestell Bovee

19 de junio de 2008

THE CHIEFTAINS AT GLASTONBURY 1 (1982)

video

18 de junio de 2008

ÉCARTEMENT


«Qui comprendra pourquoi deux amants qui
s’idolâtraient la veille, pour un mot mal
interprété, s’écartent, l’un vers l’orient,
l’autre vers l’occident, avec les aiguillons
de la haine, de la vengeance, de l’amour
et du remords, et ne se revoient plus,
chacun drapé dans sa fierté solitaire.»

Lautréamont, Les chants de Maldoror

17 de junio de 2008

MUTO - a wall-painted animation by Blu

16 de junio de 2008

DELUSION ANGEL - David Jewell

La película es "Before Sunrise" (Richard Linklater, 1995): Jesse y Celine
caminan de noche a orillas del Danubio en Viena y, un poeta de la calle,
a partir de la palabra "milkshake", les escribe este poema.


video

Daydream delusion
Limousine eyelash
Oh baby with your pretty face
Drop a tear in my wine glass
Look at those big eyes
See what you mean to me?
Sweet cakes and milkshakes

I'm a delusion angel
I'm a fantasy parade
I want you to know what I think
Don't want you to guess anymore
You have no idea where I came from
We have no idea where we're going
Lodged in life like branches in a river
Flowing downstream
Caught in the current

I'll carry you
You'll carry me
That's how it could be
Don't you know me?
Don't you know me by now?

15 de junio de 2008

HINE E HINE (MAORI LULLABY) - Hayley Westenra & Teddy Tahu Rhodes

video

E tangi ana koe
Hine e hine
E ngenge ana koe
Hine e hine

Kati tö pouri rä
Noho i te aroha
Te ngäkau o te Matua
Hine e hine

You are weeping
Little girl, darling girl
you are weary
Little girl, darling girl

Be sad no longer
There is love for you
in the heart of your father
Little girl, darling girl

Te Rangi Pai, 1907

14 de junio de 2008

LIRA


Sólo aquél que logra elevar su lira

aun en medio de las sombras,
puede adivinar
y proclamar lo infinito.

Rilke, Los Sonetos a Orfeo, 1922

13 de junio de 2008

ARTHUR McBRIDE - Paul Brady (1977)

video

Oh, me and my cousin, one Arthur McBride
As we went a-walking down by the seaside
Now, mark what followed and what did betide
For it being on Christmas morning...
Out for recreation, we went on a tramp
And we met Sergeant Napper and Corporal Vamp
And a little wee drummer, intending to camp
For the day being pleasant and charming.

"Good morning ! Good morning!" the sergeant did cry
"And the same to you gentlemen! " we did reply ,
Intending no harm but meant to pass by
For it being on Christmas morning.
But says he, "My fine fellows if you will enlist,
It's ten guineas in gold I will slip in your fist
And a crown in the bargain for to kick up the dust
And drink the King's health in the morning.

For a soldier he leads a very fine life
And he always is blessed with a charming young wife
And he pays all his debts without sorrow or strife
And always lives pleasant and charming...
And a soldier he always is decent and clean
In the finest of clothing he's constantly seen
While other poor fellows go dirty and mean
And sup on thin gruel in the morning. "

"But ", says Arthur, "I wouldn't be proud of your clothes
For you've only the lend of them as I suppose
And you dare not change them one night, for you know
If you do you'll be flogged in the morning.
And although that we are single and free
we take great delight in our own company
And we have no desire strange faces to see
Although that your offers are charming
And we have no desire to take your advance
All hazards and dangers we barter on chance
For you would have no scruples for to send us to France
Where we would get shot without warning "

"Oh now! ", says the sergeant "I'll have no such chat
And I neither will take it from spalpeen or brat
For if you insult me with one other word
I'll cut off your heads in the morning "
And then Arthur and I we soon drew our hods
And we scarce gave them time for to draw their own blades
When a trusty shillelagh came over their heads
And bade them take that as fair warning

And their old rusty rapiers that hung by their side
We flung them as far as we could in the tide
"Now take them out, Divils! ", cried Arthur McBride
"And temper their edge in the morning ".
And the little wee drummer we flattened his pow
And we made a football of his rowdeydowdow
Threw it in the tide for to rock and to row
And bade it a tedious returning

And we having no money, paid them off in cracks
And we paid no respect to their two bloody backs
For we lathered them there like a pair of wet sacks
And left them for dead in the morning.
And so to conclude and to finish disputes
We obligingly asked if they wanted recruits
For we were the lads who would give them hard clouts
And bid them look sharp in the morning.

Oh me and my cousin, one Arthur McBride
As we went a walkin' down by the seaside,
Now mark what followed and what did betide
For it being on Christmas morning.

(From the traditional, adapted by Paul Brady)

12 de junio de 2008

NO ONE


Along this road
Goes no one;
This autumn evening.
Basho

11 de junio de 2008

CANTALOOP - Us3

video

10 de junio de 2008

FARE FORWARD


I sometimes wonder if that is what Krishna meant -among other things-
Or one way of putting the same thing:
That the future is a faded song, a Royal Rose or a lavender spray
Of wistful regret for those who are not yet here to regret,
Pressed between yellow leaves of a book that has never been opened.

And the way up is the way down, the way forward is the way back.
You cannot face it steadily, but this thing is sure,
That time is no healer: the patient is no longer here.
When the train starts, and the passengers are settled
To fruit, periodicals and business letters
(And those who saw them off have left the platform)
Their faces relax from grief into relief,
To the sleepy rhythm of a hundred hours.

Fare forward, travellers! not escaping from the past
Into different lives, or into any future;
You are not the same people who left that station
Or who will arrive at any terminus,
While the narrowing rails slide together behind you;
And on the deck of the drumming liner
Watching the furrow that widens behind you,
You shall not think 'the past is finished'
Or 'the future is before us'.

At nightfall, in the rigging and the aerial,
Is a voice descanting (though not to the ear,
The murmuring shell of time, and not in any language)
'Fare forward, you who think that you are voyaging;
You are not those who saw the harbour
Receding, or those who will disembark.

Here between the hither and the farther shore
While time is withdrawn, consider the future
And the past with an equal mind.
At the moment which is not of action or inaction
You can receive this: "on whatever sphere of being
The mind of a man may be intent
At the time of death"-that is the one action
(And the time of death is every moment)
Which shall fructify in the lives of others:
And do not think of the fruit of action.

Fare forward.
O voyagers, O seamen,

You who came to port, and you whose bodies
Will suffer the trial and judgement of the sea,
Or whatever event, this is your real destination."
So Krishna, as when he admonished Arjuna
On the field of battle.

Not fare well,
But fare forward, voyagers.

T.S.Eliot, Four Quartets, III

9 de junio de 2008

SAMBA DE UMA NOTA SÓ - Laurindo Almeida & The Modern Jazz Quartet (1964)

video

8 de junio de 2008

ONE


dusk trees mist
becoming
one

Rob Gamble

7 de junio de 2008

BONITO - Jarabe de Palo

video

6 de junio de 2008

HAIKU

Sólo una foto.
Instante de juventud
-- mirada nueva

E.C.

5 de junio de 2008

VINCENT - Don McLean (1972)

video

Starry, starry night
Paint your palette blue and gray
Look out on a summer's day
With eyes that know the darkness in my soul

Shadows on the hills
Sketch the trees and the daffodils
Catch the breeze and the winter chills
In colors on the snowy linen land

Now I understand
What you tried to say to me
And how you suffered for your sanity
And how you tried to set them free
They would not listen, they did not know how
Perhaps they'll listen now

Starry, starry night
Flaming flowers that brightly blaze
Swirling clouds in violet haze
Reflect in Vincent's eyes of china blue

Colors changing hue
Morning fields of amber grain
Weathered faces lined in pain
Are soothed beneath the artist's loving hand

Now I understand
What you tried to say to me
And how you suffered for your sanity
And how you tried to set them free
They would not listen, they did not know how
Perhaps they'll listen now

For they could not love you
But still, your love was true
And when no hope was left in sight
On that starry, starry night
You took your life as lovers often do
But I could've told you, Vincent
This world was never meant
For one as beautiful as you

Starry, Starry night
Portraits hung in empty halls
Frameless heads on nameless walls
With eyes that watch the world and can't forget

Like the strangers that you've met
The ragged men in ragged clothes
The silver thorn, a bloody rose
Lie crushed and broken on the virgin snow

Now I think I know
What you tried to say to me
And how you suffered for your sanity
And how you tried to set them free
They would not listen, they're not listening still
Perhaps they never will

4 de junio de 2008

BRIDGES

We cross our bridges when we come to them
and burn them behind us, with nothing to
show for our progress except a memory of
the smell of smoke, and a presumption that
once our eyes watered.

Tom Stoppard

3 de junio de 2008

GASPARD DE LA NUIT: ONDINE (RAVEL) - Vlado Perlemuter

video

2 de junio de 2008

BRÛLÉ

Nos actes s'attachent à nous
comme sa
lueur au phosphore.
Ils nous consument,
il est vrai,
mais ils nous font notre splendeur.

Et si notre âme a valu quelque chose,
c'est
qu'elle a brûlé plus ardemment
que quelques
autres.

Gide

1 de junio de 2008

THE GREY FUNNEL LINE - Mary Black, Emmylou Harris & Dolores Keene

video

("The Grey Funnel Line": nickname que los
marineros daban a la UK Royal Navy.)

Don't mind the rain or rolling sea
The weary night never worries me
But the hardest time in a sailor's day
Is to watch the sun as it dies away.
It's one more day on the Grey Funnel Line.

The finest ship that sails the sea
Is still a prison for the likes of me.
But give me wings like Noah's dove,
I'd fly above her to the one I love.
It's one more day on the Grey Funnel Line.

Oh Lord, if dreams were only real,
I'd have my hands on that wooden wheel.
And with all my heart I'd turn her 'round
And tell the boys that we're homeward bound.
It's one more day on the Grey Funnel Line.

I'll pass the time like some machine
Until blue water turns to green.
Then I'd dance on down that walk ashore,
And sail the Grey Funnel Line no more.
And sail the Grey Funnel Line no more.

Cyril Tawney