martes, 26 de febrero de 2008


Cartel NOVA ROCK (aún sin cerrar), VIENA.

domingo, 17 de febrero de 2008


Por fin....

"The Raconteurs are currently finishing up their second album in Nashville, Tn. They promise to release it as soon as the can" 14/02/08

Tanto tiempo de espera tiene su recompensa, porque no se si cuenta la versión de los White Stripes de "Conquest" (o "Conquista" por "Las Rayas Blancas") en español. Simplemente...MATADORA.

lunes, 4 de febrero de 2008

Invitus Invitam
(malgré lui,
malgré elle...)


*For my favourite Pie Maker, like almost everything

sábado, 2 de febrero de 2008

....Midori, soñando con los versos que me oyó leer, se pregunta en sueños si ese tal Baudelaire tiene razón y en realidad ella no es una gata normal....


"Amis de la science et de la volupté,
Ils cherchent le silence et l´horreur des ténèbres..."

Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune
Or to take arms against a sea of troubles
And by opposing end them.

To die, to sleep--
No more--and by a sleep to say we end
The heartache, and the thousand natural shocks
That flesh is heir to. 'Tis a consummation
Devoutly to be wished.

To die, to sleep--
To sleep--perchance to dream: ay, there's the rub,
For in that sleep of death what dreams may come
When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,
Must give us pause. There's the respect
That makes calamity of so long life.

For who would bear the whips and scorns of time,
Th' oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely
The pangs of despised love, the law's delay,
The insolence of office, and the spurns
That patient merit of th' unworthy takes,
When he himself might his quietus make
With a bare bodkin? Who would fardels bear,

To grunt and sweat under a weary life,
But that the dread of something after death,
The undiscovered country, from whose bourn
No traveller returns, puzzles the will,
And makes us rather bear those ills we have

Than fly to others that we know not of?
Thus conscience does make cowards of us all,
And thus the native hue of resolution
Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought,
And enterprise of great pitch and moment

With this regard their currents turn awry
And lose the name of action. -- Soft you now,
The fair Ophelia! -- Nymph, in thy orisons
Be all my sins remembered.

...that is THE QUESTION

Ophelia según Arthur Huges

viernes, 1 de febrero de 2008


In fear every day, every evening
He calls her aloud from above
Carefully watched for a reason
Painstaking devotion and love
Surrendered to self preservation
From others who care for themselves
A blindness that touches perfection
But hurts just like anything else

Mother, I tried, please believe me
Im doing the best that I can
I'm ashamed of the things I've been put through
I'm ashamed of the person I am

But if you could just see the beauty
These things I could never describe
These pleasures a wayward distraction
This is my one broken prize