Z

2006-07-31T17:33:00.000-07:00

2006-07-31T17:30:00.000-07:00

Que recuerdos =)

2006-07-02T21:19:00.000-07:00

Camino Paradiso

El camino me llevaba..era tierra y piedras... el color se devenía hacia el pasado, mi frente arriba, mirando luz, guiaba hacia el cielo de lo azul.

Ritmo de pasos enérgicos, rellenos de alegría me dirijen, nadie más que yo lo sabe. Algunos árboles me acompañan de a rato, arbustos que por momentos me sonrien, rozales que de a tanto me lastiman, pero nunca solo, nunca mal acompañado. En las mañanas dulces, en las que la luz y el fresco viven, el placer del humor se entierra en la piel. Ojos bien abiertos, oídos profundizados, absorviendo aromas y palpando texturas, encierro todo displacer interior, y me confundo con el éxtasis natural del olvido. Piedras y tierra, luces y colores, arbustos y flores, belleza y alegría, ¡todo me acoge y me refracta!

Cristales prismáticos que como ojos observan, son las estrellas de lo alto, que más tarde me vinieron a saludar. Yo seguía mi camino, sintiendo. Escuchaba sus voces que cánticos me cantaban, que cosas lindas me decían. Y yo caminaba.

Un haz de negrura voló al raz del haz de luz, y su belleza deslumbró y derrumbó toda decepción existida. ¿Era una mariposa? Sí..así parecía.. ¡pero tan bella! Pero seguí caminando. Algo me inquietó...no recordaba querer seguir caminando, pero no frené. No me preocupó mucho, es más, solo ocupó una partecita de mi mente, ¡quien podría más con esa belleza a unos pasos!
Perdido en el externo furor de la vida, la pasión muerta y olvidada, la ansiedad a fuego y entrenada, seguí caminando por el placer, pisando recuerdo, y mirando natural armonía.

2006-07-02T20:56:00.000-07:00

"Before speaking, consider whether it is an improvement upon silence."

Z de Zukoh

2006-06-22T19:50:00.000-07:00

Free personality analysis from ColorQuiz.com.
Generated on Thu Jun 22 19:45:02 2006.

Your Existing Situation

Works well in cooperation with others. Needs a personal life of mutual understanding and freedom from discord.

Your Stress Sources

Feels that life has far more to offer and that it is imperative that he should find the responsive and understanding relationship he is seeking; he therefore follows up any opportunity which presents itself. However, he maintains his attitude of critical appraisal and refuses to be swept off his feet unless genuineness and integrity can be absolutely vouched for. Therefore keeps a strict and watchful control on his emotional relationships as he must know exactly where he stands. Demands complete sincerity as a protection against his own tendency to be too trusting.

Your Restrained Characteristics

Circumstances are forcing him to compromise, to restrain his demands and hopes, and to forgo for the time being some of the things he wants.

Your Desired Objective

Needs a change in his circumstances or in his relationships which will permit relief from stress. Seeking a solution which will open up new and better possibilities and allow hopes to be fulfilled.

Your Actual Problem

The fear that he may be prevented from achieving the things he wants leads him into a relentless search for satisfaction in the pursuit of illusory or meaningless activities.

Your Actual Problem #2

Intensely critical of the existing conditions which he feels are disorganized or insufficiently clear-cut. Is therefore seeking some solution which will clarify the situation and introduce a more acceptable degree of order and method.

Ídem anterior

2006-04-15T19:17:00.000-07:00

Your Existing Situation

Orderly, methodical, and self-contained. Needs the respect, recognition, and understanding of those close to him.

Your Stress Sources

Your Restrained Characteristics

Feels that things stand in his way, that circumstances are forcing him to compromise and forgo some pleasures for the time being.

Your Desired Objective

Seeks success, stimulation, and a life full of experience. Wants to develop freely and to shake off the shackles of self-doubt, to win, and to live intensely. Likes contacts with others and is enthusiastic by nature. Receptive to anything new, modern, or intriguing; has many interests and wants to expand his fields of activity. Optimistic about the future.

Your Actual Problem

The fear that he might be prevented from achieving the things he wants leads him to play his part with an urgent and hectic intensity.

Your Actual Problem #2

Wants to act freely and uninhibitedly, but is restrained by his need to have things on a rational, consistent, and clearly-defined basis.

http://www.colorquiz.com/

2006-04-05T19:36:00.000-07:00

Your Existing Situation

Easily affected by his environment and readily moved by the emotions of others. Seeks congenial relationships and an occupation which will promote them.

Your Stress Sources

The existing situation is disagreeable. Has an unsatisfied need to ally himself with others whose standards are as high as his own, and to stand out from the rank and file. His control of his sensual instincts restricts his ability to give himself, but the resulting isolation leads to the urge to surrender and allow himself to merge with another. This disturbs him, as such instincts are regarded as weaknesses to be overcome; he feels that only by continued self-restraint can he hope to maintain his attitude of individual superiority. Wants to be loved or admired for himself alone; needs attention, recognition, and the esteem of others.

Your Restrained Characteristics

Egocentric and therefore quick to take offense. Sensitive and sentimental, but conceals this from all except those very close to him.

Your Desired Objective

Intense, vital, and animated, taking a delight in action. Activity is directed towards success or conquest and there is a desire to live life to the fullest.

Your Actual Problem

Takes a delight in action and wants to be respected and esteemed for his personal accomplishments.

Your Actual Problem #2

The fear that he might be prevented from achieving the things he wants leads him to play his part with an urgent and hectic intensity.

Sobre la Verdad.

2006-03-13T18:52:00.000-08:00

Cuentan que un buscador de la verdad salió en cierta ocasión a los caminos de Iurancha -el mundo-

Y allí, en el gran cruce del mundo interrogó a sus hermanos.

Decidme, ¿cuál es la verdad?

Busca la filosofía -respondieron los filósofos-.

No, -argumentaron los políticos- la verdad está en el servicio.

Entra a las catedrales -le aseguraron los clérigos-.

Sin duda, la verdad es la sabiduría -terciaron los sabios-.

Renuncia a todo -esgrimieron los ascetas-.

Contempla y ensalza las maravillas del señor -le anunciaron los místicos-.

Acata y cumple las leyes -señalaron los gobernantes-.

Conócete a ti mismo -cantaron los guardianes del esoterismo-.

La verdad está en los números sagrados -dedujeron los cabalistas-.

Vive los placeres -aconsejaron los epicúreos-.

Únete a nosotros -le gritaron los revolucionarios-.

La verdad es un mito -respondieron los escépticos-.

Vive y deja vivir -clamaron los existencialistas-.

El pasado: esa es la única verdad -clamaron los existencialistas-.

Confundido, aquel humano se dejó caer sobre el polvo del camino, mientras aquella multitud se alejaba cantando y reivindicando “su” verdad.

En eso, acertó a pasar junto al hombre un venerable anciano que portaba un refulgente diamante.

¿Quién eres? Preguntó el derrotado buscador de la verdad.

Y el anciano, mostrándole el diamante respondió:

Soy el guardián de la verdad.

¿La Verdad? ¿Es qué existe?

El anciano sonrió y aproximando la gema al rostro del humano, replicó:

La verdad. Como este tesoro, tiene mil caras. A cada uno le corresponde averiguar cual es la que le toca.

2006-01-25T10:09:00.000-08:00

[ C L o S E R N o W ]

Am i wrong to want you near?

A bit of heaven with you beside me.I

see your face in the eyes of the sky,

but you are farther then, far tonight.

Am i wrong to feel this way,

and do my tears fall down in the darkness,

and do you see them all from a distance,

and will you come to me and make them go away,

a little closer now is where you need to be.

2005-12-16T05:40:00.000-08:00

There's nothing to be afraid of

virtual reality will rehabilitate your mind and eventually your body.

You'll be alright I promise, just concentrate...

Go try some music

2005-11-23T12:02:00.000-08:00

CORRESPONDENCIAS
[Del libro "Las flores del mal - Charles Baudelaire]

La Naturaleza es un templo cuyos vivientes pilares,
dejan a veces escapar confusas palabras.
El hombre posa allí a través de bosques de símbolos,
que lo observan con miradas familiares.

Como largos ecos que de lejos se confunden
en una tenebrosa y profunda unidad
—vasta como la noche y como la luz—
los perfumes, los colores y los sonidos se responden.

Hay perfumes frescos como carne de niño,
dulces como los oboes, verdes como las praderas.
Y hay otros corrompidos, ricos y triunfantes,
que tienen la expansión de las cosas infinitas,
como el ámbar, el almizcle, el benjuí y el incienso,
que cantan los transportes del espíritu y los sentidos.

Cambio de Energia

2005-10-31T17:48:00.000-08:00

Un cambio, de oscuro a mas claro, de centro a mas ancho.
Cambiando el drama de control, menos robar, mas dar, y mirar, la conexion entre dos, o mas.
hablar, retornar. comunicando y ayudando.. con mucho esfuerzo y sonrisa!

si, en clave. un ernest cualquiera :D

gu bai! proyecion de cambio y/o campo!

Recuerdos.. mios solos

2005-10-22T14:25:00.000-07:00

Turn wind to dust
¿Can you feel it?
¿can´t you see it?
we are doomed, destined to death.
it´s nature, it´s earth
she is hurt and seeks revenge.
We can, doesn´t mean we must
Like this we turn wind to dust
Middle gods, destruct is joy
burn and kill, control the whip
cry or scream, bite and rip
¿¡Are we gods, humanity?!
¿Harmony and Peace? ¡We are beasts and machines!
¿Can´t we learn a bit? ¡We are just god´s shit!
Turned Paradise to Hell, Kill is our only way
¡We can´t make more mistakes! Destiny is in our way

----------------------------------

Descolorida
Tiembla, grita
calla, llora
esa niña
que decolora
Tan solo el recuerdo
la ata al olvido
las uñas desgarran
su cuerpo carcomido
Corriendo al viento
el color se desvanece
el frío ahoga
la muerte aparece
Vive, muere
sola, indiferente
¿Quién es esta niña
si no es la muerte?
Tan bella y fría
sola, descolorida..

------------------------------

Lo logré. Lo encontré.Lo único que veía eran esos ojos gigantes, color zafiro, que albergaban un conocimiento y una sabiduria tan antigua como la vida misma, sin poder ser revelada, y peor aún... usada.Esos ojos representaban el Poder, la vida, la inocencia, la Muerte.Tenía que hacerlo, sí, era necesario, nada existe sin un propósito, y el propósito de su existir era ser liberado. Un Poder tan inmenso no puede ser encarcelado, no debe ser encarcelado. Es lo que nos define, lo que nos dice quienes somos, como ser, y que somos. Hice lo correcto.Todo era borroso menos esos ojos. Todo era silencio alrededor, la naturaleza enmudeció de sorpresa. Incluso los muertos lo sintieron, la misma Muerte le tuvo miedo. El tiempo estaba confundido. Todo pasó en un santiamén que duró siglos. Nada pasó, todo terminó.

El Poder fue liberado.

Pesadilla

2005-10-17T19:34:00.000-07:00

universidad, jovenes, secretaria, toy con amigos, si, vas a poder dar las clases, voy a clase, puedo, vuelvo, hablo con adscripta (soledad), me da una hoja doblada con algo que ya me hbaian dado horarios, etc.."para comer", etc..campamento..va conmigo..negrito plancha 13 años con nenito 8 negrito afuera y una tipa negrita plancha de 12, el negrito hacia seña de que alguien baje, con señas de matar. esra un tipo..joven que llegó y se sento cerca mio, yo mira y me aleje, dsespues volví..un tipo de seguridad bajó, yo sentia todo com si alguien lo contara...subo las escaleras..tyo en la asotea..lugar conocido..el viejo de seguridad sale tranquilo, no pasa naa, parece experto (viejo oeste) y apunta y le cae una piedra en la cabeza, despues muchas, en el ojo.. queda hecho mierda...lluvia de piedras de todas partes, de en frente 8vieja negra) de atras, de cerca mio de arrriba (yo toy en la azotea con niños) una tira una para joder. el viejo hecho mierda...bajo la esclaera, piedras cerca..me meto en un balcon parecido al de emiliano, pero diferente, busco el de emiliano, pero la vieja me vio..me tira piedras..., salgo del balcon raro y buscar el de emiliano (raro tambien) para esconderme..

paso hace tiempo.. la encontre escrita mientras borraba cosas para hacer espacio en la pc.. me la re acorde y me cague abundante. fue una sal. sangre por todas partes, gente gritando, el pobre viejo llorando de dolor y sanrge mientras le caian mas piedras en la cabeza etc.. una sal.

A mi hermano Miguel - Vallejo

2005-10-17T19:25:00.000-07:00

Hermano, hoy estoy en el poyo de la casa,
Donde nos haces una falta sin fondo!
Me acuerdo que jugábamos esta hora y que mamá
Nos acariciaba “Pero, hijos..”

Ahora yo me escondo,
Como antes, todas estas oraciones
Vespertinas, y espero que tú no des conmigo.
Por la sala, el zaguán, los corredores,
Después, te ocultas tú, y yo no doy contigo.
Me acuerdo que nos hacíamos llorar,
Hermano, en aquel juego.

Miguel tu te escondiste
Una noche de agosto, al alborear;
Pero, en vez de ocultarte riendo, estabas triste.
Y tu gemelo corazón de esas tardes
Extintas se ha aburrido de no encontrarte. Y ya
Cae sombra en el alma.

Oye, hermano, no tardes
En salir. Bueno .... puede inquietarse mamá.

Himno a la Belleza - Baudelaire

2005-10-15T16:35:00.000-07:00

¿Vienes del cielo profundo o del abismo surges,
oh, Belleza? Tu mirada, infernal y divina,
confusamente vierte la buena accion y el crimen,
por lo que te podemos comparar con el vino.

Contienes en tus ojos el poniente y la aurora;
derramas perfumes como una noche de tormenta,
tus besos son un filtro y un anfora tu boca
que hace cobarde al heroe y valiente al niño.

¿Sales del negro abismo o bajas de los astros?
El Destino hechizado sigue tus enaguas como un perro;
siembras al azar la dicha y los desastres,
y todo lo gobiernas sin responder a nada.

Marchas sobre los muertos, Belleza, y de ellos te burlas;
de tus joyas el Horror no es la menos preciada,
y el Crimen, entre tus mas queridos amuletos,
sobre tu vientre altivo danza amorosamente.

El deslumbrado insecto vuela hacia ti candela,
crepita, arde y dice: ¡Bendigamos esta llama!
El amante jadeando inclinado sobre su bella
es como un moribundo acariciando su tumba.

¿Que importa que tu vengas del cielo o del infierno,
¡oh Belleza! ¡Monstruo enorme, espantoso e ingenuo!
Si tus ojos, tu sonrisa, tus pies, me abren la puerta
de un Infinito amado que nunca he conocido?

De Satan o de Dios, ¿que importa? Angel o Sirena,
¿que importa, si tu haces -hada de ojos de terciopelo,
ritmo, perfume y luz, ¡oh mi unica reina!-
menos horrible el mundo y mas cortos los instantes?

Las Flores del Mal

Dead Poets Society

2005-10-15T13:14:00.000-07:00

 "Gather ye rosebuds while ye may, old
  time is still a flying, and this same
  flower that smiles today, tomorrow will
  be dying."


..................................................

Thank you Mr. Dalton. Armies of academics
               going forward, measuring poetry. No, we
               will not have that here. No more of Mr.
               J. Evans Pritchard. Now in my class you
               will learn to think for yourselves again.
               You will learn to savor words and language.
               No matter what anybody tells you, words and
               ideas can change the world. I see that look
               in Mr. Pitt's eye, like nineteenth century
               literature has nothing to do with going to
               business school or medical school. Right?
               Maybe. Mr. Hopkins, you may agree with him, 
               thinking "Yes, we should simply study our
               Mr. Pritchard and learn our rhyme and meter
               and go quietly about the business of
               achieving other ambitions." I have a little
               secret for ya. Huddle up. Huddle up! 

The boys get up from their seats and gather around Keating in the center
of the class.

                              KEATING
               We don't read and write poetry because
               it's cute. We read and write poetry
               because we are members of the human race.
               And the human race is filled with passion.
               Medicine, law, business, engineering,
               these are all noble pursuits, and necessary
               to sustain life. But poetry, beauty,
               romance, love, these are what we stay alive
               for. To quote from Whitman: "O me, o life
               of the questions of these recurring, of the
               endless trains of the faithless, of cities
               filled with the foolish. What good amid
               these, o me, o life? Answer: that you are
               here. That life exists, and identity.
               That the powerful play goes on, and you
               may contribute a verse. That the powerful
               play goes on and you may contribute a verse.

Keating looks up at Todd.

                              Keating
               What will your verse be?

...................................................

MCALLISTER
               Quite an interesting class you gave today,
               Mr. Keating.

                              KEATING
               I'm sorry if I shocked you, Mr. McAllister.

                              MCALLISTER
               Oh, there's no need to apologize. It was
               very fascinating, misguided though it was.

                              KEATING
               You think so?

                              MCALLISTER
               You take a big risk by encouraging them to
               be artists John. When they realize they're
               not Rembrandts, Shakespeares or Mozarts,
               they'll hate you for it.

                              KEATING
               We're not talking artists George, we're
               talking free thinkers.

                              MCALLISTER
               Free thinkers at seventeen?

                              KEATING
               Funny, I never pegged you as a cynic.

                              MCALLISTER
                      (taken aback by the comment)
               Not a cynic, a realist. Show me the heart
               unfettered by foolish dreams, and I'll
               show you a happy man.

                              KEATING
               But only in their dreams can man be truly
               free. 'Twas always thus, and always thus
               will be.

                              MCALLISTER
               Tennyson?

                              KEATING
               No, Keating.

........................................................

KEATING
               The Dead Poets were dedicated to sucking
               the marrow out of life. That's a phrase
               from Thoreau that we'd invoke at the
               beginning of each meeting. You see we'd
               gather at the old Indian cave and take
               turns reading from Thoreau, Whitman,
               Shelley; the biggies. Even some of our
               own verse. And in the enchantment of the
               moment we'd let poetry work its magic.

                              KNOX
               You mean it was a bunch of guys sitting
               around reading poetry?

                              KEATING
               No Mr. Overstreet, it wasn't just "guys",
               we weren't a Greek organization, we were
               romantics. We didn't just read poetry,
               we let it drip from our tongues like honey.
               Spirits soared, women swooned, and gods
               were created, gentlemen, not a bad way to
               spend an evening eh? Thank you Mr. Perry
               for this trip down amnesia lane. Burn that,
               especially my picture.

Keating hands the annual back and walks away, whistling once again. Neil 
remains crouched.

.......................................................

  NEIL
               I hereby reconvene the Dead Poets
               Society.

The boys cheer.

                              NEIL
               Welton chapter. The meetings will be
               conducted by myself and the other new
               initiates now present. Todd Anderson,
               because he prefers not to read, will
               keep minutes of the meetings. I'll now
               read the traditional opening message by
               society member Henry David Thoreau. "I
               went to the woods because I wanted to
               live deliberately. I wanted to live deep
               and suck out all the marrow of life."

                              CHARLIE
               I'll second that.

                              NEIL
               "To put to rout all that was not life,
               and not, when I had come to die,
               discover that I had not lived.

Several boys whistle softly in reaction to the poem.

..................................................

PITTS
               "In a mean abode in the shanking road,
               lived a man named William Bloat. Now,
               he had a wife, the plague of his life,
               who continually got his goat. And one
               day at dawn, with her nightshift on,
               he slit her bloody throat."

 NEIL
               Alfred Lord Tennyson. 
               Come my friends, 
               'Tis not too late to seek a newer world 
               for my purpose holds to sail beyond the 
               sunset. 
               And though we are not now that strength 
               which in old days 
               Moved earth and heaven; that which we 
               are, we are;-- 
               One equal temper of heroic hearts, 
               Made weak by time and fate, but strong 
               in will. 
               To strive, to seek, to find, and not to 
               yield. 

.........................................................

The students are all back in their normal seats and Keating leaps
up onto his desk.

                              KEATING
               Why do I stand up here? Anybody? 

                              CHARLIE
               To feel taller. 

                              KEATING
               No!
Keating rings the bell on his desk with his foot

                              KEATING
               Thank you for playing, Mr. Dalton. I 
               stand upon my desk to remind yourself 
               that we must constantly look at things 
               in a different way. 

Keating glances around the classroom from atop the desk.

                              KEATING
               You see, the world looks very different 
               from up here. You don't believe me? Come 
               see for yourself. Come on. Come on! 

Charlie and Neil quickly rise from their seats to go to the front
of the classroom. The rest of the class follows them. While Keating
continues speaking, Neil and Charlie join him on the desk and then
Keating jumps down.


                              KEATING
               Just when you think you know something, 
               you have to look at it in another way. 
               Even though it may seem silly or wrong, 
               you must try! Now, when you read, don't 
               just consider what the author thinks. 
               Consider what you think. 

                              KEATING
               Boys, you must strive to find your own 
               voice. Because the longer you wait to 
               begin, the less likely you are to find 
               it at all. Thoreau said, "Most men lead 
               lives of quiet desperation." Don't be 
               resigned to that. Break out!

Keating notices Spaz and another boy leaving the desk immediately.

                              KEATING
               Don't just walk off the edge like lemmings.
               Look around you. 

The school bell rings as the boys continue to climb onto the desk.
Keating begins to gather up his stuff. The clock begins to toll as
Keating walks to the back of the class.

                              KEATING
               There! There you go, Mr. Priske. Thank 
               you! Yes! Dare to strike out and find 
               new ground. Now, in addition to your 
               essays, I would like you to compose a 
               poem of your own, an original work.

The students begin to groan. Keating begins flickering the lights
off and on while chanting ominously.

                              KEATING
               That's right! You have to deliver it 
               aloud in front of the class on Monday. 
               Bonne chance, gentlemen. 

Keating steps out into the hall before quickly peeking back in once again.
Todd is the last one to stand on the desk and is about to jump off.

                              KEATING
               Mr. Anderson? Don't think that I don't 
               know that this assignment scares the 
               hell out of you, you mole.

Keating flicks the light off, leaving Todd to jump down in the darkness
as the students laugh.

............................................................

EIL
               So, I'm gonna act. Yes, yes! I'm gonna 
               be an actor! Ever since I can remember, 
               I've wanted to try this. I even tried to 
               go to summer stock auditions last year, 
               but, of course, my father wouldn't let 
               me. For the first time in my whole life 
               I know what I wanna do.

Neil grabs a handful of papers off Todd's bed and tosses them into
the air.

                              NEIL
               and for the first time I'm gonna do it 
               whether my father wants me to or not!
               Carpe diem! 

                              TODD
               Neil, Neil, hold on a minute. How are 
               you gonna be in a play if your father 
               won't let you? 

                              NEIL
               First I gotta get the part, then I can 
               worry about that. 

                              TODD
               Yeah, but won't he kill you if he finds 
               out you went to an audition and didn't 
               even tell him? 

                              NEIL
               No, no, no, no. As far as I'm concerned, 
               he won't have to know about any of this. 

                              TODD
               Well, that's impossible. 

                              NEIL
               Bullshit! Nothing's impossible. 

                              TODD
               Well, why don't you just call him and 
               ask him? And m-maybe he'll say yes. 

                              NEIL
               That's a laugh!

Neil tosses the blanket back onto his bed.

                              NEIL
               If I don't ask him, at least I won't
               be disobeying him. 

                              TODD
               Yeah, but if he said-- 

                              NEIL
                       (shouting angrily)
               Jesus, Todd! Whose side are you on?

Todd says nothing. Neil looks at him for a moment and then takes
the flyer back from Todd. He walks over to the window, his 
excitement gone.

                              NEIL
               I mean, I haven't even gotten the part 
               yet. Can't I even enjoy the idea for a 
               little while? 

Once again, Todd says nothing. After a moment, Neil sits on the
heater and Todd returns to his poem.

                              NEIL
               You're coming to the meeting this 
               afternoon? 

                              TODD
               I don't know. Maybe.

                              NEIL
               Nothing Mr. Keating has to say means 
               shit to you, does it, Todd? 

                              TODD
               W-What is that supposed to mean? 

                              NEIL
               You're in the club! Being in the club 
               means being stirred up by things. You 
               look about as stirred up as a cesspool. 

Neil gets up from the window and stands over Todd.

                              TODD
               So- You want me out? 

                              NEIL
               No! I want you in, but being in means 
               you gotta do something. Not just say 
               you're in. 

                              TODD
               Well, listen, Neil. I-I appreciate this 
               concern, but I-I'm not like you. All 
               right? You, you, you say thing and 
               people listen. I'm, I'm not like that. 

                              NEIL
               Don't you think you could be? 

                              TODD
               No! I--I, I don't know, but that's not 
               the point. The, the, the point is that 
               there's nothing you can do about it, so 
               you can just butt out. I can take care 
               of myself just fine. All right? 

                              NEIL
               No. 

                              TODD
               What do you mean, "no"? 

A smile comes to Neil's face.

                              NEIL
               No. 

..................................................

 KEATING
               Now, devotees may argue that one sport 
               or game is inherently better than 
               another. For me, sport is actually a 
               chance for us to have other human beings 
               push us to excel. I want you all to come 
               over here and take a slip of paper and 
               line up single file.

.....................................................

               "Oh to struggle against great odds. To 
               meet enemies undaunted." 

        "To be a sailor of the world, bound for 
               all ports."

        "Oh, I live to be the ruler of life, not 
               a slave."  

        "To mount the scaffolds. To advance to 
               the muzzle of guns with perfect 
               nonchalance."

        "To dance, clap hands, exalt, shout, 
               skip, roll on, float on."

        "Oh, to have life henceforth the poem of 
               new joys."

        "To indeed be a god!"

.......................................................

KNOX
                         (quietly)
               "To Chris."

Charlie looks up from his desk with a grin.

                              BOY 1
               Who's Chris? 

                              BOY 2
               Mmm, Chris. 

                              KNOX
               I see a sweetness in her smile. 
               Blight light shines from her eyes. 
               But life is complete; contentment is 
               mine, 
               Just knowing that...

Several students begin to snicker.

                              KNOX
               just knowing that she's alive.

Knox crumples his poem and walks back to his desk.

                              KNOX
               Sorry, Captain. It's stupid. 

                              KEATING
               No, no. It's not stupid. It's a good 
               effort. It touched on one of the major 
               themes, love. A major theme not only in 
               poetry, but life. Mr. Hopkins, you were 
               laughing. You're up.

Hopkins slowly walks to the front of the class and unfolds
his piece of paper.

                              HOPKINS
               "The cat sat on the mat." 

                              KEATING
               Congratulations, Mr. Hopkins. Yours is 
               the first poem to ever have a negative 
               score on the Pritchard scale. We're not 
               laughing at you, we're laughing near 
               you. I don't mind that your poem had a 
               simple theme. Sometimes the most 
               beautiful poetry can be about simple 
               things, like a cat, or a flower or rain. 
               You see, poetry can come from anything 
               with the stuff of revelation in it. Just 
               don't let your poems be ordinary. Now, 
               who's next? 

Keating approaches Todd's desk.

                              KEATING
               Mr. Anderson, I see you sitting there in 
               agony. Come on, Todd, step up. Let's put 
               you out of your misery. 

                              TODD
               I, I didn't do it. I didn't write a 
               poem. 

                              KEATING
               Mr. Anderson thinks that everything 
               inside of him is worthless and 
               embarrassing. Isn't that right, Todd? 
               Isn't that your worst fear? Well, I 
               think you're wrong. I think you have 
               something inside of you that is worth a 
               great deal.

Keating walks up to the blackboard and begins to write.

                              KEATING
               "I sound my barbaric yawp over the 
               rooftops of the world." W. W. Uncle Walt 
               again. Now, for those of you who don't 
               know, a yawp is a loud cry or yell. Now, 
               Todd, I would like you to give us a 
               demonstration of a barbaric "yawp." Come 
               on. You can't yawp sitting down. Let's 
               go. Come on. Up.

Todd reluctantly stands and follows Keating to the front.

                              KEATING
               You gotta get in "yawping" stance. 

                              TODD
               A yawp?

                              KEATING
               No, not just a yawp. A barbaric yawp. 

                              TODD
                         (quietly)
               Yawp. 

                              KEATING
               Come on, louder. 

                              TODD
                         (quietly)
               Yawp. 

                              KEATING
               No, that's a mouse. Come on. Louder. 

                              TODD
               Yawp. 

                              KEATING
               Oh, good God, boy. Yell like a man! 

                              TODD
                         (shouting)
               Yawp! 

                              KEATING
               There it is. You see, you have a 
               barbarian in you, after all.

Todd goes to return to his seat but Keating stops him.

                              KEATING
               Now, you don't get away that easy.

Keating turns Todd around and points out a picture on the wall.

                              KEATING
               The picture of Uncle Walt up there. What 
               does he remind you of? Don't think. 
               Answer. Go on.

Keating begins to circle around Todd.

                              TODD
               A m-m-madman. 

                              KEATING
               What kind of madman? Don't think about 
               it. Just answer again. 

                              TODD
               A c-crazy madman. 

                              KEATING
               No, you can do better than that. Free up 
               your mind. Use your imagination. Say the 
               first thing that pops into your head, 
               even if it's total gibberish. Go on, go 
               on. 

                              TODD
               Uh, uh, a sweaty-toothed madman. 

                              KEATING
               Good God, boy, there's a poet in you, 
               after all. There, close your eyes. Close 
               your eyes. Close 'em. Now, describe what 
               you see. 

Keating puts his hands over Todd's eyes and they begin to slowly
spin around.

                              TODD
               Uh, I-I close my eyes. 

                              KEATING
               Yes? 

                              TODD
               Uh, and this image floats beside me. 

                              KEATING
               A sweaty-toothed madman? 

                              TODD
               A sweaty-toothed madman with a stare 
               that pounds my brain. 

                              KEATING
               Oh, that's excellent. Now, give him 
               action. Make him do something. 

                              TODD
               H-His hands reach out and choke me. 

                              KEATING
               That's it. Wonderful. Wonderful.

Keating removes his hands from Todd but Todd keeps his eyes
closed.

                              TODD
               And, and all the time he's mumbling. 

                              KEATING
               What's he mumbling? 

                              TODD
               M-Mumbling, "Truth. Truth is like, like 
               a blanket that always leaves your feet 
               cold." 

The students begin to laugh and Todd opens his eyes. Keating
quickly gestures for him to close them again.

                              KEATING
               Forget them, forget them. Stay with the 
               blanket. Tell me about that blanket. 

                              TODD
               Y-Y-Y-You push it, stretch it, it'll 
               never be enough. You kick at it, beat 
               it, it'll never cover any of us. From 
               the moment we enter crying to the moment 
               we leave dying, it will just cover your 
               face as you wail and cry and scream. 

Todd opens his eyes. The class is silent. Then they begin to clap
and cheer.

                              KEATING
                       (whispering to Todd)
               Don't you forget this.

.........................................................

The students are standing in a line while Cameron, Pitts, and Knox
are walking in a circle. Keating watches as they go around.

                              KEATING
               No grades at stake, gentlemen. Just take 
               a stroll.

After a few moments, the three boys begin to march to the same beat.

                              KEATING
               There it is. 

The other boys start clapping to the rhythm of their steps.

                              KEATING
               I don't know, but I've been told-- 

                              BOYS
               I don't know, but I've been told-- 

                              KEATING
               Doing poetry is old-- 

                              BOYS
               Doing poetry is old-- 

Mr. Nolan looks out at them from his office as Keating joins the
boys and begins marching with them.

                              KEATING
               Left, left, left-right-left. Left, left, 
               left-right-left. Left, halt! 

The boys come to a halt.

                              KEATING
               Thank you, gentlemen. If you noticed, 
               everyone started off with their own 
               stride, their own pace.

Keating begins walking very slowly.

                              KEATING
               Mr. Pitts, taking his time. He knew he'll
               get there one day. Mr. Cameron, you could
               see him thinking, "Is this right? It might
               be right. It might be right. I know that. 
               Maybe not. I don't know."

Keating begins walking with his groin pushed forward.

                              KEATING
               Mr. Overstreet, driven by deeper force.
               Yes. We know that. All right. Now, I
               didn't bring them up here to ridicule
               them. I brought them up here to illustrate
               the point of conformity: the difficulty in 
               maintaining your own beliefs in the face 
               of others. Now, those of you -- I see 
               the look in your eyes like, "I would've 
               walked differently." Well, ask 
               yourselves why you were clapping. Now, 
               we all have a great need for acceptance. 
               But you must trust that your beliefs are 
               unique, your own, even though others may 
               think them odd or unpopular, even though 
               the herd may go, "That's baaaaad." Robert 
               Frost said, "Two roads diverged in a 
               wood and I, I took the one less traveled 
               by, and that has made all the 
               difference." Now, I want you to find 
               your own walk right now. Your own way of 
               striding, pacing. Any direction. 
               Anything you want. Whether it's proud, 
               whether it's silly, anything. Gentlemen, 
               the courtyard is yours.

The students begin walking about, some walking casually, others
making up silly walks. Keating notices that Charlie is still
leaning up against one of the pillars.

                              KEATING
               You don't have to perform. Just make it 
               for yourself. Mr. Dalton? You be joining 
               us? 

                              CHARLIE
               Exercising the right not to walk. 

                              KEATING
               Thank you, Mr. Dalton. You just 
               illustrated the point. Swim against the 
               stream.

...........................................................

CHARLIE
               Guys, I have an announcement to make. In 
               keeping with the spirit of passionate 
               experimentation of the Dead Poets, I'm 
               giving up the name Charlie Dalton. From 
               now on, call me Nuwanda. 

......................................

  NEIL
               You kicked out? 

                              CHARLIE
               No. 

                              NEIL
               So what happened? 

                              CHARLIE
               I'm to turn everybody in, apologize to 
               the school and all will be forgiven. 

                              NEIL
               So, what are you gonna do? Charlie! 

                              CHARLIE
               Damn it, Neil. The name is Nuwanda.

Charlie smiles and then shuts his door.

..................................................

 MR. NOLAN
               This was my first classroom, John. Did 
               you know that? My first desk. 

                              KEATING
               Didn't know you taught, Mr. Nolan. 

                              MR. NOLAN
               English. Oh, long before your time. It 
               was hard giving it up, I can tell you. 
               I'm hearing rumors, John, about some 
               unorthodox teaching methods in your 
               classroom. I'm not saying they've 
               anything to do with the Dalton boy's 
               outburst. But I don't think I have to 
               warn you boys his age are very 
               impressionable. 

                              KEATING
               Well, your reprimand made quite an 
               impression, I'm sure. 

                              MR. NOLAN
               What was going on in the courtyard the 
               other day? 

                              KEATING
               Courtyard? 

                              MR. NOLAN
               Yeah. Boys marching, clapping in unison. 

                              KEATING
               Oh, that. That was an exercise to prove 
               a point. Dangers of conformity. 

                              MR. NOLAN
               Well, John, the curriculum here is set. 
               It's proven it works. If you question, 
               what's to prevent them from doing the 
               same? 

                              KEATING
               I always thought the idea of educating 
               was to learn to think for yourself. 

                              MR. NOLAN
               At these boys' ages? Not on your life! 
               Tradition, John. Discipline. Prepare 
               them for college, and the rest will take 
               care of itself.

...........................................

CHARLIE
               Mr. Keating. 

                              KEATING
               Mr. Dalton. That was a pretty lame stunt 
               you pulled today. 

                              CHARLIE
               You're siding with Mr. Nolan? What about 
               Carpe diem and sucking all the marrow 
               out of life and all that? 

                              KEATING
               Sucking the marrow out of life doesn't 
               mean choking on the bone. Sure there's a 
               time for daring and there's a time for 
               caution, and a wise man understands 
               which is called for. 

                              CHARLIE
               But I thought you'd like that. 

                              KEATING
               No. You being expelled from school is 
               not daring to me. It's stupid, 'cause 
               you'll miss some golden opportunities. 

                              CHARLIE
               Yeah. Like what? 

                              KEATING
               Like, if nothing else, the opportunity 
               to attend my classes. Got it, Ace? 

                              CHARLIE
               Aye, aye, Captain. 

                              KEATING
               Keep your head about you. That goes for 
               the lot of you. 

                              BOYS
               Yes, Captain. 

                              KEATING
               Phone call from God. If it had been 
               collect, it wouldn't been daring.

......................................................

Neil opens the door to his room and sees his father sitting at his desk.

                              NEIL
               Father. 

                              MR. PERRY
               Neil. 

                              NEIL
               Wait a minute. Before you say anything, 
               please let me ex-

Mr. Perry rises from the desk.

                              MR. PERRY
               Don't you dare talk back to me! It's bad 
               enough that you've wasted your time with 
               this, this absurd acting business. But 
               you deliberately deceived me! How, how, 
               how did you expect to get away with 
               this? Answer me. Who put you up to it? 
               Was it this new man? This, uh, Mr. 
               Keating? 

                              NEIL
               No. Nobody-- I thought I'd surprise you. 
               I've gotten all A's in every class. 

                              MR. PERRY
               Did you think I wasn't going to find 
               out? "Oh, my niece is in a play with 
               your son," says Mrs. Marks. "No, no, 
               no," I say, "you must be mistaken. My 
               son's not in a play." You made me a liar 
               of me, Neil! Now, tomorrow you go to 
               them and you tell them that you're 
               quitting. 

                              NEIL
               No, I can't. I have the main part. The 
               performance is tomorrow night. 

                              MR. PERRY
               I don't care if the world comes to an 
               end tomorrow night. You are through with 
               that play. Is that clear? Is that clear? 

                              NEIL
               Yes, sir. 

Mr. Perry goes to leave and then turns around.

                              MR. PERRY
               I made a great many sacrifices to get 
               you here, Neil, and you will not let me 
               down. 

                              NEIL
               No, sir. 

...............................................

Keating is seated at his desk. He is writing a letter and occasionally
looks up at the framed photo on his desk of a woman playing the cello.
There is a knock at the door.

                              KEATING
               It's open.

Neil enters and closes the door behind him. He appears to be nervous.

                              KEATING
               Neil, what's up? 

                              NEIL
               Can I speak to you a minute? 

                              KEATING
               Certainly. Sit down.

Neil goes to take a seat but notices the chair is piled up with books.
Neil picks them up and Keating gets up from his seat to help him.

                              NEIL
               I'm sorry. Here. 

                              KEATING
               Excuse me. Get you some tea? 

                              NEIL
               Tea. Sure.

Keating goes to a table in the corner and begins pouring several cups.

                              KEATING
               Like some milk or sugar in that? 

                              NEIL
               No, thanks. 

                              NEIL
               Gosh, they don't give you much room 
               around here. 

                              KEATING
               No, it's part of the monastic oath. They 
               don't want worldly things distracting me 
               from my teaching.

Keating gives Neil a cup of tea and they return to their seats. Neil
looks at the photo on the desk.

                              NEIL
               She's pretty. 

                              KEATING
               She's also in London. Makes it a little 
               difficult. 

                              NEIL
               How can you stand it? 

                              KEATING
               Stand what? 

                              NEIL
               You can go anywhere. You can do 
               anything. How can you stand being here? 

                              KEATING
               'Cause I love teaching. I don't wanna be 
               anywhere else. 

                              KEATING
               What's up? 

                              NEIL
               I just talked to my father. He's making 
               me quit the play at Henley Hall. 
               Acting's everything to me. I-- But he 
               doesn't know. He-- I can see his point. 
               We're not a rich family like Charlie's, 
               and we-- But he's planning the rest of 
               my life for me, and I-- H-He's never 
               asked me what I want. 

                              KEATING
               Have you ever told your father what you 
               just told me? About your passion for 
               acting. You ever show him that? 

                              NEIL
               I can't. 

                              KEATING
               Why not? 

                              NEIL
               I can't talk to him this way. 

                              KEATING
               Then you're acting for him, too. You're 
               playing the part of the dutiful son. I 
               know this sounds impossible, but you 
               have to talk to him. You have to show 
               him who you are, what your heart is. 

                              NEIL
               I know what he'll say. He'll tell me 
               that acting's a whim, and I should 
               forget it. That how they're counting on 
               me. He'll just tell me to put it out of 
               my mind, "for my own good." 

                              KEATING
               You are not an indentured servant. If 
               it's not a whim for you, you prove it to 
               him by your conviction and your passion. 
               You show him that And if he still 
               doesn't believe you, well, by then 
               you'll be out of school and you can do 
               anything you want. 

A tear falls down Neil's cheek and he wipes it away.

                              NEIL
               No. What about the play? The show's 
               tomorrow night. 

                              KEATING
               Well, you have to talk to him before 
               tomorrow night. 

                              NEIL
               Isn't there an easier way? 

                              KEATING
               No. 

                              NEIL
               I'm trapped. 

                              KEATING
               No, you're not.

......................................................

MR. PERRY
               We're trying very hard to understand why 
               it is that you insist on defying us. 
               Whatever the reason, we're not gonna let 
               you ruin your life. Tomorrow I'm 
               withdrawing you from Welton and 
               enrolling you in Braden Military School. 
               You're going to Harvard and you're gonna 
               be a doctor. 

                              NEIL
               But that's ten more years. Father, 
               that's a lifetime! 

                              MR. PERRY
               Oh, stop it. Don't be so dramatic. You 
               make it sound like a prison term. You 
               don't understand, Neil. You have 
               opportunities that I never even dreamt 
               of and I am not going to let you waste 
               them.

Neil rises to his feet.

                              NEIL
               I've got to tell you what I feel.

Mrs. Perry stands up.

                              MRS. PERRY
               We've been so worried about-- 

                              MR. PERRY
               What? What? Tell me what you feel. What 
               is it?

Neil looks to his mother and then back to his father but says
nothing.

                              MR. PERRY
               Is it more of this, this acting 
               business? Because you can forget that. 
               What? 

                              NEIL
               Nothing.

Neil sits back down dejectedly.

                              MR. PERRY
               Nothing? Well, then, let's go to bed.

Mr. Perry leaves. Mrs. Perry pauses on her way out and kneels
behind Neil.

                              NEIL
               I was good. I was really good.

Mrs. Perry nods slightly.
                              MRS. PERRY
               Go on, get some sleep.

................................................

INT. NEIL'S BEDROOM - NIGHT

Neil's pyjamas, bathrobe, towel, and shaving kit are all neatly
laid out on his bed. Neil touches his pyjamas lightly and then
removes his coat and shirt. He walks over to the windows and
opens them, taking several deep breaths. He places the crown of
twigs on his head and then closes his eyes, slowly letting his head
fall to his chest.

INT. HALLWAY - NIGHT

A door opens and Neil emerges, slowly walking down the stairs as if
in a trance.

INT. MR. PERRY'S STUDY - NIGHT

Neil holds a key in his hands. He unlocks a drawer in his father's
desk and pulls out a pistol, wrapped in cloth.

INT. MR. PERRY'S BEDROOM - NIGHT

Mr. Perry jerks up out of bed, startled and breathing fast.

                              MR. PERRY
               What was that? 

                              MRS. PERRY
               What? 

                              MR. PERRY
               That sound. 

                              MRS. PERRY
               What sound? Tom?

Mr. Perry turns on the light and gets up out of bed, putting on his
robe and slippers.
                              MRS. PERRY
               What is it? What's wrong? 

Mr. Perry turns on the hallway light and knocks on Neil's door. He opens
the door and goes inside.

                              MR. PERRY
               Neil.

Mr. Perry notices the open window.

                              MRS. PERRY
               Tom, what is it? What's wrong? Neil?

Mr. Perry continues to look through the house, continuing downstairs.

                              MR. PERRY
               Neil?

Mr. Perry notices the door to his study is ajar.

                              MRS. PERRY
               I'll look outside. Neil?

Mr. Perry flicks the light on but sees nothing. Then he smells
something. Looking closer, he sees a thin cloud of smoke rising from
behind his desk. As he moves around the desk he sees his gun on the
floor and Neil's outstretched hand.

                              MR. PERRY
               No!

Mr. Perry crouches down by his son.

                              MR. PERRY
               Oh, Neil! Oh, my God!

Mrs. Perry enters the room and sees her son.

                              MRS. PERRY
               Oh! No! 

                              MR. PERRY
               Oh, my son! 

                              MRS. PERRY
               He's all right. 

                              MR. PERRY
               My son! My poor son! 

                              MRS. PERRY
                        (crying hysterically)
               He's all right! He's all right! He's all 
               right! He's all right! He's all right! 
               He's all right! 

                              MR. PERRY
               Stop it! Stop it! Stop it.

Mr. Perry holds his wife and tries to comfort her.

..............................................

Todd is sleeping. Charlie reaches across to wake him. Tears are
running down his face.

                              CHARLIE
               Todd? Todd.

Todd, still half asleep, tries to shrug him off.

                              TODD
               Oh, Charlie.

Todd opens his eyes and sees Charlie's face

                              TODD
               What is it?

Todd looks over to see Pitts, Meeks, and Knox by the door.

                              CHARLIE
               Neil's dead.

..............................................

EXT. CAMPUS - DAY

It is a snowy, overcast morning. Todd walks through the snow. He
has his coat on over his pyjamas. The other boys follow closely
behind him as he walks down towards the water. He stops and stares
out at the snow-covered surroundings.

                              TODD
               It's so beautiful.

Todd begins to gag and then goes down on his knees, vomiting into
the snow. The other boys huddle around him, hugging him.

                              CHARLIE
               Todd. It's okay, Todd. 

                              PITTS
               Calm down. 

                              CHARLIE
               It's all right, Todd. 

                              PITTS
               Todd, it's okay. It's okay, Todd. 

                              CHARLIE
               It's all right. It's alright.

Charlie grabs a handful of snow and wipes Todd's mouth with it. 

                              TODD
               He wouldn't-- He wouldn't have done it. 

                              MEEKS
               You can't explain it, Todd. 

                              TODD
               It was his father! 

                              CHARLIE
               No! 

                              TODD
               He wouldn't have left us. It's because he-
               He wouldn't have. His dad was-- his, his 
               father did it. 

                              CHARLIE
               Todd. 

                              TODD
               His father killed him. He made him do it.

                              MEEKS
               You can't explain it, Todd.

Todd pushes himself away from the boys and stumbles down the hill,
slipping and falling in the snow.

                              MEEKS
               Todd! 

                              CHARLIE
               Leave him be.

The boys watch as Todd runs down towards the dock by the river,
yelling and crying. He finally seems to regain control of himself
and walks in silence out onto the dock.

.............................................

Keating passes by Todd and the others and gets to the back of the
classroom before Todd leaps up from his seat and turns to face him.

                              TODD
               Mr. Keating! They made everybody sign 
               it. 

Mr. Nolan gets up from his desk and approaches Todd.

                              MR. NOLAN
               Quiet, Mr. Anderson. 

                              TODD
               You gotta believe me. It's true. 

                              KEATING
               I do believe you, Todd. 

                              MR. NOLAN
               Leave, Mr. Keating. 

                              TODD
               But it wasn't his fault! 

                              MR. NOLAN
               Sit down, Mr. Anderson!

Todd reluctantly returns to his seat.

                              MR. NOLAN
               One more outburst from you or anyone
               else, and you're out of this school!
               Leave, Mr. Keating.

Keating hesitates at the back of the classroom.

                              MR. NOLAN
               I said leave, Mr. Keating.

Keating slowly turns and heads to the door. As he opens
it, Todd, stands upon his desk and turns to Keating.

                              TODD
               O Captain! My Captain! 

                              MR. NOLAN
               Sit down, Mr. Anderson!

Keating pauses at the door and looks back at Todd on his desk.

                              MR. NOLAN
               Do you hear me? Sit down! Sit down! This 
               is your final warning, Anderson. How 
               dare you? Do you hear me?

After a moment of indecision, Knox climbs up onto his desk.

                              KNOX
               O Captain! My Captain! 

                              MR. NOLAN
               Mr. Overstreet, I warn you! Sit down!

Pitts climbs up onto his desk, followed by several others,
including Meeks.

                              MR. NOLAN
               Sit down! Sit down. All of you. I want 
               you seated. Sit down. Leave, Mr. 
               Keating.

More students stand on their desks until half the class is standing.

                              MR. NOLAN
               All of you, down. I want you seated. Do 
               you hear me? 

                              MR. NOLAN
               Sit down! 

Keating stands in the doorway, staring up at the boys in wonder. A
smile comes to his face.

                              KEATING
               Thank you, boys. Thank you.

WEWEwEwEwEwEWEwewewewewewe

2005-10-08T18:25:00.000-07:00

Euphoria!! descargue del momentsrhdtjfydkgrklruolryiphukryuoiryolrulhtklipo.. ongoasbnghoajsbnhoasnhoanrdshoaidrsnh

Tadpole

2005-10-08T18:21:00.000-07:00

mirenla .. depsue expando

Bueno, tampoco tenog muchas gans ahora, pero ta, es una pelicula que pasan este jueves 13 en el 13a las 12.45 que serian por el cambio de horario a las 13.45. creo, sino, verifiquen.

Esta d+, es sobre un quinceañero incomprendido, filosofo que se enamora de su madrastra. muchas frases de voltaire. la actuacion impecable.

esta d+

El Albatros - Baudelaire

2005-10-08T18:19:00.000-07:00

A menudo, por divertirse, los marineros
cogen albatros, grandes pájaros de los mares,
que siguen, como indolentes compañeros de ruta,
al navío que se desliza por los amargos abismos.

Apenas lo han colocado en cubierta,
estos reyes del cielo, torpes y avergonzados,
dejan trsitemente sus grandes alas blancas
colgando como remos en sus costados.

¡Este alado viajero qué torpe y débil es!
¡Hace poco tan bello, qué cómico y qué feo!
Uno lo provoca golpeándole con una pipa en el pico,
otro imita, cojeando, al desgraciado que volaba.

El Poeta es igual al príncipe de las nubes
que vence la tempestad y se ríe del arquero;
desterrado en la tierra en medio de abucheos,
sus alas de gigante le impiden caminar.

-Las Flores del Mal-

Como nace un paradigma

2005-10-04T20:14:00.000-07:00

Un grupo de científicos colocó cinco monos en una jaula, en
cuyo centro colocaron una escalera y, sobre ella, un montón de
bananas. Cuando un mono subía la escalera para agarrar las bananas,
los científicos lanzaban un chorro de agua fría sobre los que quedaban
en el suelo.

Después de algún tiempo, cuando un mono iba a subir la escalera, los
otros lo agarraban. Después de algún tiempo, cuando un mono iba a subir la escalera, los
otros lo agarraban a palos. Pasado algún tiempo más, ningún mono
subía la escalera, a pesar de la tentación de las bananas. Entonces, los
científicos sustituyeron uno de los monos. La primera cosa que hizo
fue subir la escalera, siendo rápidamente bajado por los otros,
quienes le pegaron.

Después de algunas palizas, el nuevo integrante del grupo ya no subió
más la escalera. Un segundo mono fue sustituido, y ocurrió lo mismo.
El primer sustituto participó con entusiasmo de la paliza al novato.
Un tercero fue cambiado, y se repitió el hecho. El cuarto y,
finalmente, el último de los veteranos fue sustituido.

Los científicos quedaron, entonces, con un grupo de cinco monos que, aún
cuando nunca recibieron un baño de agua fría, continuaban golpeando
a aquel que intentase llegar a las bananas. Si fuese posible preguntar
a algunos de ellos por qué le pegaban a quien intentase subir la
escalera, con certeza la respuesta sería: "No sé, las cosas siempre
se han hecho así, aquí..."

Me lo paso Libero Trillon {este teclado no me deja poner ni tildes ni parentesis.. no se que le pasa}

Ni idea quien es, parece que el tampoco lo sabe.

2005-09-23T13:55:00.000-07:00

La gente me produce asco, tengo asco hasta de mi mismo. Deseo una destrucción completa de todo lo humano, incluidos ellos e incluido yo, ya que no soy especial ni mejor que ellos. Soy una mierda más puesta en este mundo sin mi aprobación.
27 años son más que suficientes para poder soportar todo este absurdo que me rodea y que me invade, es suficiente para ver que todo lo que hacemos no servirá de nada, que ningún sentido tiene seguir sufriendo y siguiendo una rutina estúpida que no nos conduce a nada. Mierda de vida, mierda de sociedad, mierda de gente, mierda de sistema,... MIERDA, mi palabra favorita, sólo ella es capaz de describir sin esfuerzo mis pensamientos.
Madrugo por las mañanas y pienso con ironía: "¡Bien, otro día más sobre este planeta!. Levantémonos, vamos a producir la ración de basura de hoy.". Me levanto, no sin un gran esfuerzo de voluntad (la cual hay que reconocer es considerable, me pregunto de dónde sale), toso (el tabaco dicen que mata, poco a poco). Salgo de casa, con ojos dormidos, mi mente todavía atontada, los cascos de mi discman en mis oídos (la música es lo único que soporto a esas horas, y casi es lo único que soportaría a cualquier hora). Me dirijo con paso raudo a la estación de tren, que me llevará a mi y al resto de las abejas obreras a esos campos de concentración mal llamados empresas. Cuando llego, mi cara (ya con un rictus de amarga tristeza) empeora hacia un enfado que no puedo dirigir contra nadie, porque nadie es culpable y al mismo tiempo, lo somos todos y hacia todos lo dirijo. No hablo, apenas saludo (¿Buenos días?, no para mi, desde luego), me siento en mi cubiculo, en mi celda. Aun encima, es verano, hace calor, y el aire acondicionado crea una malsana atmósfera artificial que perjudica más mis pulmones, ya jodidos por el tabaco.
Al cabo de un rato, llega el jefe, ese temible bastardo, que se cree algo, que se cree que nos posee, cuando realmente no tiene nada, realmente no es nada, nada más que otra mierda con patas que camina con una falsa seguridad en si mismo. Me río de su seguridad, me río de su ficticio poder, porque cuando la muerte llega (y afortunadamente siempre llega) nada de lo que tiene o cree tener, le va a impedir pudrirse bajo tierra entre los gusanos.
Tomo un café, el estimulante que necesito para mantenerme despierto y no caer en el sopor del aburrimiento, y en un sueño que trata de apoderarse de mi ser. Un sueño que realmente seria bienvenido, y mejor aprovechado que estas horas muertas de mi vida que paso aquí encerrado entre estas cuatro paredes mugrientas.
¿Por qué no dejarlo?, ¿por qué no escapar?... sí, suena bien... ser libre, romper las cadenas... pero es irreal. Si sigo vivo (cosa que continuamente me planteo) y tal como están las cosas, necesito dinero para comer, pagar una vivienda, ... Y no me pienso convertir en un vagabundo, porque ya es bastante dura y asquerosa la vida como para aún encima tener que depender de la caridad humana. No, para ser libre realmente, sólo hay una solución: la muerte. Aunque no haya nada después de ella, cosa que no sé, es la única salida para ser libre, realmente libre. Se terminan entonces las ataduras, trabajar, pagar, llorar, sufrir, reír, soñar, enfermar, el miedo, el amor, el odio, ... Sólo necesito el método adecuado y podré hacerlo, porque hasta ahora, he fallado.

Pensándolo bien, no me hubiese importado nacer si en lugar de ser humano, con su supuesta inteligencia, hubiese nacido animal. Cualquiera, me es indiferente: desde una mosca hasta un elefante... Pero al fin y al cabo, animal, ser que sólo existe y vive, no se preocupa de mañana, no se preocupa de lo que hizo ayer. Para él solo existe el ahora, un ahora que cambia según sus necesidades: comer, procrear, descansar, ... Así debiera ser nuestra vida: vivir el ahora, sin preocuparnos de nada más, sin tantas normas, sin tantas complicaciones, sin tantas fronteras, ... Ser, existir, vivir, nada más... No deberíamos pensar tanto, los que lo hacemos y los que no, felices ellos porque de ellos es el reino de la felicidad y la ignorancia (eternas compañeras).

Soy egoísta, dicen, y lo reconozco. Sólo pienso en mi, no hago más que quejarme, sin pensar en que los demás también sufren... Pues si también sufren y quieren acabar con esa agonía, ¿qué coño estamos haciendo?, ¿por qué no nos ponemos de acuerdo y lo cambiamos todo? o mejor, ¿por qué no nos ponemos de acuerdo y nos autoexterminamos todos?.

¿Por qué me siento tan asfixiado? ¿por qué tan aislado? ¿por qué tan agobiado?... ¿Quién me ha enseñado a ser así?, ¿por qué he elegido este camino de penuria y sufrimiento?... ¿Alguien me podría ayudar?, sólo me gustaría ser idiota para no preocuparme tanto, o ser tan inteligente que desde mi superioridad no me afecte tampoco la mediocridad y la rutina. ¿Alguien tiene la sabiduría? ¿alguien la llave de la tranquilidad?... No quiero morir, pero tampoco vivir así, y no existe punto intermedio, o mejor dicho, sí que existe y en él estoy: malviviendo, una especie de zombi, un muerto en vida que no se decide por ninguno de los dos caminos porque no es capaz de llegar a ninguno de ellos. Soy así desde muy joven, casi podría decir que desde que tengo uso de razón. Es demasiado tiempo para sufrir. Siempre pensaba que cuando creciese, la madurez y la experiencia me ayudarían y vería la luz al final del túnel, incluso (era demasiado romántico todavía) que el amor podría sacarme de la oscuridad, pero el tiempo pasó, los amores también,... y nada me ha ayudado, nada ni nadie, porque he llegado a la conclusión de que si hay salida (cosa que ya dudo) debería estar dentro de mi y que si no la he encontrado es porque esa salida no existe.

Emile Cifran

D-Devils - Judgement day

2005-09-23T13:47:00.000-07:00

The day has come
Judgement day

It's judgement day
In the north, computers are takin' over the world
In the east, humans are becoming slave to their own creations
In the south, people are running for their lives
In the west, you have to choose

You can run or you can hide
You can talk or you can fight
But remember

Everything you say can and will be used against you

So shut up and dance!

When they are in the north, east, south or west
Everything you say can and will be used against you

Judgement day

North, East, South, West

Judgement day.

Un..

2005-09-23T13:41:00.000-07:00

Un color: Negro
Un amigo: Fla
Un amor: C.......
Un lugar: Bosque
Una canción: Colors of the wind?
Un libro: el libro de mi vida :P mmm Demian
Un personaje: Albus
Una película: sociedad de poetas muertos
Un miedo físico: arañas
Un miedo psicológico: impotencia (gral)
Un odio: hastio
Un sueño: murder
Una meta: that when i come to die, i discover i had lived.

obsesion

2005-09-18T20:30:00.000-07:00

DIVINE! me obsesiono.. hoy te toco a vos. ayer y antes de ayer no, mañana no se.

DIVINE!