Aire, agua, nada

24 abril, 2016

Los suspiros son aire y van al aire,
las lágrimas son agua y van al mar.
Dime, mujer, cuando un amor se olvida,
¿sabes tú adónde va?

Este poemilla, grabado en mi memoria de pequeña de manera casi involuntaria, está entre los que ya un poco más tarde consideré perteneciente al lado cursi y fácil de Bécquer. Sin embargo, últimamente me ha venido a la mente -disueltos los sonidos e imágenes en la demoledora pregunta que plantea-, porque he pensado en la desintegración absoluta del amor romántico cuando se acaba una relación: se trata realmente de uno de los sumideros más vertiginosos y eficientes que conozco.

Eros instantáneo #4

23 noviembre, 2013

En el Vaporetto en Venecia III

La navaja de Sexton: Live or Die (1966)

22 noviembre, 2013

Es muy lógico y perturbador que un poema titulado “Wanting to Die” termine con el verso “and the love, whatever it was, an infection”.

Berger’s love

15 septiembre, 2013

I should begin with how I loved him, in what manner, to what degree, with what kind of incomprenhension.

(Debería comenzar por cómo lo quería, de qué manera, hasta qué punto, con que tipo de incomprensión.)

John Berger, The Red Tenda of Bologna, 2007.

Jouer le jeu (dealing with Carlotta)

16 agosto, 2013

2/10/70  New York

I haven’t so many alternatives as I thought -in fact, only two: uproot the feeling, tell her to go to hell—or jouer le jeu.

Of course, it will be the second. The age of innocence is over.

This is not the end of the story—only the beginning of Phase Three.


The time of playing the game. Carlotta cannot be the center of my life, only (possibly) part of a plural center that will include work, friends, other affairs. (…)

I must appear to be strong—which means that I really must be strong. I must not offer her my suffering, my longing for her, as a proof of my love. I must not even tell her so often that I love her.(…)

I must be strong, permissive, unreproachful, capable of joy (independently of her), able to take care of my own needs (but playing down my ability, or wish, to take care of hers). Remember what she said the other day about finding me so different from the way I appeared at first (autonomous, “cool”)? It was that person she was originally attracted to. She must still sense that in me from time to time. I cannot ever show her all my weakness. I must limit my thirst for candor.

I cannot persuade her with words to love me, to trust me, to be with me. It must be done with actions. She must come to me freely. I must act as if I expect her to do that—but not say it, above all not ask her to confirm it.

Susan Sontag, As Consciousness is Harnessed to Flesh.

Amor rayano #2

21 febrero, 2013

In a Lonely Place, 1950

“I was born when she kissed me, I died when she left me, I lived a few weeks while she loved me”.

Nicholas Ray, In a Lonely Place, 1950.

Amor rayano #1

5 enero, 2013

JOHNNY: How many men have you forgotten?
VIENNA: As many women as you’ve remembered.
JOHNNY: Don’t go away.
VIENNA: I haven’t moved.
JOHNNY: Tell me something nice.
VIENNA: Sure, what do yo want to hear?
JOHNNY: Lie to me. Tell me all these years you’ve waited. Tell me.
VIENNA: All these years I have waited.
JOHNNY: Tell me you’d have died if I hadn’t come back.
VIENNA: I would have died if you hadn’t come back.
JOHNNY: Tell me you still love me like I love you.
VIENNA: I still love you like you love me.
JOHNNY: Thanks. Thanks a lot.

Johnny Guitar, Nicholas Ray, 1954

Johnny Guitar, Nicholas Ray, 1954