lunes, 20 de julio de 2020

José María Fonollosa, de Destrucción de la Mañana

Y de pronto una voz, mirada, un gesto
tropieza con mi idea de mí mismo
y veo aparecer en el espejo
a un ser inesperado, insospechado,
que me mira con ojos que son míos.
Ese desconocido que soy yo.
Ese al que los demás se dirigían
al dirigirse a mí, sin yo saberlo.
Ese irreconocible ser inmóvil
que inspecciona mis rasgos hoscamente.
En vano apremio al otro, el verdadero,
a aquel que unos segundos antes yo era.
Sólo está frente a mí, con ceño adusto,
ese desconocido inesperado
que me mira con ojos que son míos.

Trato de dar con una explicación.
-«Será un fugaz defecto de mi vista.
O mi retina habrá atrapado al vuelo
una imagen disforme, ahora atascada».
Y llamo a mis hermanas y a mi hermano.
Mas me detengo al verlos silenciosos
con aire interrogante. De repente
no aparentan ser ellos los que busco.
¡No conozco estas caras familiares!
Ni esa expresión cansada, sondeadora,
que se enfrenta conmigo, como un muro
que se extraña que quieran traspasarlo.
¡No sé de esas facciones ya marchitas!
Las capto con asombro. No hay recelo
en sus ojos. Tal vez no se dan cuenta
del cambio que han sufrido. O forman parte
de una conspiración para encubrirlo.

-José María Fonollosa

domingo, 19 de julio de 2020

4 Poemas de Alejandra Pizarnik

El miedo

En el eco de mis muertes
aún hay miedo.
¿Sabes tú del miedo?
Sé del miedo cuando digo mi nombre.
Es el miedo,
el miedo con sombrero negro
escondiendo ratas en mi sangre,
o el miedo con labio muertos
bebiendo mis deseos.
Sí. En el eco de mis muertes
aún hay miedo.

La palabra que sana

Esperando que un mundo sea desenterrado por el lenguaje, alguien canta el lugar en que se forma el silencio. Luego comprobará que no porque se muestre furioso existe el mar, ni tampoco el mundo. Por eso cada palabra dice lo que dice y además más y otra cosa.

Cuarto solo

Si te atreves a sorprender
la verdad de esta vieja pared;
y sus fisuras, desgarraduras,
formando rostros, esfinges,
manos, clepsidras,
seguramente vendrá
una presencia para tu sed,
probablemente partirá
esta ausencia que te bebe.

Exilio

A Raúl Gustavo Aguirre

Esta manía de saberme ángel,
sin edad,
sin muerte en qué vivirme,
sin piedad por mi nombre
ni por mis huesos que lloran vagando.

¿Y quién no tiene un amor?
¿Y quién no goza entre amapolas?
¿Y quién no posee un fuego, una muerte,
un miedo, algo horrible,
aunque fuere con plumas,
aunque fuere con sonrisas?

Siniestro delirio amar a una sombra.
La sombra no muere.
Y mi amor
sólo abraza a lo que fluye
como lava del infierno:
una logia callada,
fantasmas en dulce erección,
sacerdotes de espuma,
y sobre todo ángeles,
ángeles bellos como cuchillos
que se elevan en la noche
y devastan la esperanza.

sábado, 18 de julio de 2020

La (In)Mortalidad de Borges

"Ser inmortal es algo común; excepto el hombre, todas las criaturas son inmortales, porque ignoran la muerte; lo que es divino, terrible, incomprensible, es saber que uno es inmortal."


"Solomon saith: There is no new thing upon the earth. So that as Plato had an imagination, that all knowledge was but remembrance; so Solomon given his sentence, that all novelty is but oblivion."

FRANCIS BACON, Essays, LVIII

"La muerte (o su alusión) hace preciosos y patéticos a los hombres. Éstos conmueven por su condición de fantasmas; cada acto que ejecutan puede ser último; no hay rostro que no esté por desdibujarse como el rostro de un sueño. Todo, entre los mortales, tiene el valor de lo irrecuperable y de lo azaroso. Entre los Inmortales, en cambio, cada acto (y cada pensamiento) es el eco de otros que en el pasado lo antecedieron, sin principio visible, o el fiel presagio de otros que en el futuro lo repetirán hasta el vértigo. No hay cosa que no esté como perdida entre infatigables espejos. Nada puede ocurrir una sola vez, nada es preciosamente precario. Lo elegiaco, lo grave, lo ceremonial, no rigen para los Inmortales. Homero y yo nos separamos en las puertas de Tánger; creo que no nos dijimos adiós."

-Jorge Luis Borges, en El Inmortal



Frederick Douglass

If there is no struggle there is no progress. Those who profess to favor freedom and yet deprecate agitation are men who want crops without plowing up the ground; they want rain without thunder and lightning. They want the ocean without the awful roar of its many waters.

This struggle may be a moral one, or it may be a physical one, and it may be both moral and physical, but it must be a struggle. Power concedes nothing without a demand. It never did and it never will.

-Frederick Douglass

domingo, 12 de julio de 2020

The Law

"The law was made for one thing alone, for the exploitation of those who don't understand it, or are prevented by naked misery from obeying it."

-Bertolt Brecht

miércoles, 8 de julio de 2020

Sarte and Sontag

"Abjection is a methodical conversion, like Cartesian doubt and Husserlian epoché: it establishes the world as a closed system which consciousness regards from without, in the manner of the divine understanding. The superiority of this method to the other two lies in its being lived in pain and pride. It therefore does not lead to the transcendental and universal consciousness of Husserl, the formal and abstract thinking of the Stoics, or the substantial cogito of Descartes, but to an individual existence at its highest degree of tension and lucidity.” -Jean-Paul Sartre

"His pre-war novel, Nausea, really supplies the key to all his work. Here is stated the fundamental problem of the assimilability of the world in its repulsive, slimy, vacuous, or obtrusively substantial thereness—the problem which moves all of Sartre’s writings. Being and Nothingness is an attempt to develop a language to cope with, to record the gestures of, a consciousness tormented by disgust. This disgust, this experience of the superfluity of things and of moral values, is simultaneously a psychological crisis and a metaphysical problem."

"In Being and Nothingness, Sartre reveals himself as a psychologist of the first rank—worthy to rank with Dostoevsky, Nietzsche, and Freud. And the focus of the Baudelaire essay is the analysis of Baudelaire’s work and biography, treated as texts equivalent from a symptomatic point of view, disclosing fundamental psychological gestures. What makes Saint Genet even more interesting than the Baudelaire essay (though, at the same time, more unmanageable as well) is that, through thinking about Genet, Sartre has gone beyond the notion of action as a mode of psychological self-conservation. Through Genet, Sartre has glimpsed something of the autonomy of the aesthetic. More exactly, he has redemonstrated the connection between the aesthetic dimension and freedom, rather differently argued by Kant. The artist who is the subject of Saint Genet is not psychologized away. Genet’s works are interpreted in terms of a saving ritual, a ceremony of consciousness. That this ceremony is essentially onanistic, is curiously apt. According to European philosophy since Descartes, world-creating has been the principal activity of consciousness. Now, a disciple of Descartes has interpreted world-creating as a form of world-procreating, as masturbation.

Sartre correctly describes Genet’s spiritually most ambitious book, Funeral Rites, as “a tremendous effort of transubstantiation.” Genet relates how he transformed the whole world into the corpse of his dead lover, Jean Decarnin, and this young corpse into his own penis. “The Marquis de Sade dreamt of extinguishing the fires of Etna with his sperm,” Sartre observes. “Genet’s arrogant madness goes further: he jerks off the Universe.” Jerking off the universe is perhaps what all philosophy, all abstract thought is about: an intense, and not very sociable pleasure, which has to be repeated again and again. It is a rather good description, anyway, of Sartre’s own phenomenology of consciousness. And, certainly, it is a perfectly fair description of what Genet is about."

-Susan Sontag, en Sartre’s Saint Genet, de Against Interpretation.

miércoles, 1 de julio de 2020

Lévi Strauss

"To the general reader, perhaps the most striking example of Lévi-Strauss’ theoretical agnosticism is his view of myth. He treats myth as a purely formal mental operation, without any psychological content or any necessary connection with rite. Specific narratives are exposed as logical designs for the description and possibly the softening of the rules of the social game when they give rise to a tension or contradiction. For Lévi-Strauss, the logic of mythic thought is fully as rigorous as that of modern science. The only difference is that this logic is applied to different problems. Contrary to Mircea Eliade, his most distinguished opponent in the theory of primitive religion, Lévi-Strauss argues that the activity of the mind in imposing form on content is fundamentally the same for all minds, archaic and modern. Lévi-Strauss sees no difference in quality between the scientific thinking of modern “historical” societies and the mythic thinking of prehistoric communities."

"Any serious critique of Lévi-Strauss, however, must deal with the fact that, ultimately, his extreme formalism is a moral choice, and (more surprisingly) a vision of social perfection. Radically anti-historicist, he refuses to differentiate between “primitive” and “historical” societies. Primitives have a history; but it is unknown to us. And historical consciousness (which they do not have), he argues in the attack on Sartre, is not a privileged mode of consciousness. There are only what he revealingly calls “hot” and “cold” societies. The hot societies are the modern ones, driven by the demons of historical progress. The cold societies are the primitive ones, static, crystalline, harmonious. Utopia, for Lévi-Strauss, would be a great lowering of the historical temperature. In his inaugural lecture at the Collège de France, Lévi-Strauss outlined a post-Marxist vision of freedom in which man would finally be freed from the obligation to progress, and from “the age-old curse which forced it to enslave men in order to make progress possible.” Then:

history would henceforth be quite alone, and society, placed outside and above history, would once again be able to assume that regular and quasi-crystalline structure which, the best-preserved primitive societies teach us, is not contradictory to humanity. It is in this admittedly Utopian view that social anthropology would find its highest justification, since the forms of life and thought which it studies would no longer be of mere historic and comparative interest. They would correspond to a permanent possibility of man, over which social anthropology would have a mission to stand watch, especially in man’s darkest hours.

The anthropologist is thus not only the mourner of the cold world of the primitives, but its custodian as well. Lamenting among the shadows, struggling to distinguish the archaic from the pseudoarchaic, he acts out a heroic, diligent, and complex modern pessimism."

-Susan Sontag, de The anthropologist as hero, en Against Interpretation.