I just heard this song on my room mate's computer, and I'm a fan. It's called, "A Satisfied Mind," by Johhny Cash, someone whose music I've been wanting to look into for a while now.
How many times have
You heard someone say
If I had his money
I could do things my way
But little they know
That it's so hard to find
One rich man in ten
With a satisfied mind
Once I was waitin'
In fortune and fame
Everything that I dreamed for
To get a start in life's game
Then suddenly it happened
I lost every dime
But I'm richer by far
With a satisfied mind
Money can't buy back
Your youth when you're old
Or a friend when you're lonely
Or a love that's grown cold
The wealthiest person
Is a pauper at times
Compared to the man
With a satisfied mind
When my life has ended
And my time has run out
My friends and my loved ones
I'll leave there's no doubt
But one thing's for certain
When it comes my time
I'll leave this old world
With a satisfied mind
How many times have
You heard someone say
If I had his money
I could do things my way
But little they know
That it's so hard to find
One rich man in ten
With a satisfied mind
Saturday, May 31, 2008
NYT Articles of Interest
Perhaps this is Old Testament God coming back. Or, perhaps we've just horribly abused and violated our earth for the last two hundred years and are now paying the consequences lump-sum. In either case, it is clear to me that serious change is in order and that waiting simply isn't an option. If anybody is aware of movements or has contact with people fighting for emissions control and responsible business and agriculture practices, please feel free to post in the comments.
http://www.nytimes.com/2008/05/31/opinion/31blow.html
Interesting article in the times on bullfighting. I'd say it more or less captures the essence and ambiguity of bullfighting in Spain. Long, but worth at least reading the first 2 or 3 pages.
http://www.nytimes.com/2008/05/31/opinion/31blow.html
Interesting article in the times on bullfighting. I'd say it more or less captures the essence and ambiguity of bullfighting in Spain. Long, but worth at least reading the first 2 or 3 pages.
Wednesday, May 21, 2008
Borges y yo
Borges and I (translated from the Spanish)
Jorge Luis Borges
It is to that other one, to Borges, that things happen. I walk through Buenos Aires and I pause, one could say mechanically, to gaze at a vestibule’s arch and its inner door; of Borges I receive news in the mail and I see his name in a list of professors or some biographical dictionary. I like hourglasses, maps, eighteenth-century typefaces, etymologies, the taste of coffee and the prose of Stevenson; the other shares these preferences, but in a vain kind of way that turns them into attributes of an actor. It would be an exaggeration to claim that our relationship is hostile; I live, I let myself live so that Borges may write his literature, and this literature justifies me. It poses no great difficulty for me to admit that he has put together some decent passages, yet these passages cannot save me, perhaps because whatsoever is good does not belong to anyone, not even to the other, but to language and tradition. In any case, I am destined to lose all that I am, definitively, and only fleeting moments of myself will be able to live on in the other. Little by little, I continue ceding to him everything, even though I am aware of his perverse tendency to falsify and magnify.
Spinoza understood that all things wish to live on in their own essence; the stone wishes to be eternally a stone and the tiger a tiger. I will endure in Borges, not in myself (if it is that I am someone), but I recognise myself less in his books than in those of many others, or in the well-worn strum of a guitar. Years ago I tried to free myself from him by moving on from the mythologies of the slums to games with time and infinity, but those games are now Borges’ and I will have to conceive of other things. In this way, my life is a retreat and I lose everything and everything is turned over to oblivion, or to the other.
I do not know which of us is writing this piece.
Jorge Luis Borges
It is to that other one, to Borges, that things happen. I walk through Buenos Aires and I pause, one could say mechanically, to gaze at a vestibule’s arch and its inner door; of Borges I receive news in the mail and I see his name in a list of professors or some biographical dictionary. I like hourglasses, maps, eighteenth-century typefaces, etymologies, the taste of coffee and the prose of Stevenson; the other shares these preferences, but in a vain kind of way that turns them into attributes of an actor. It would be an exaggeration to claim that our relationship is hostile; I live, I let myself live so that Borges may write his literature, and this literature justifies me. It poses no great difficulty for me to admit that he has put together some decent passages, yet these passages cannot save me, perhaps because whatsoever is good does not belong to anyone, not even to the other, but to language and tradition. In any case, I am destined to lose all that I am, definitively, and only fleeting moments of myself will be able to live on in the other. Little by little, I continue ceding to him everything, even though I am aware of his perverse tendency to falsify and magnify.
Spinoza understood that all things wish to live on in their own essence; the stone wishes to be eternally a stone and the tiger a tiger. I will endure in Borges, not in myself (if it is that I am someone), but I recognise myself less in his books than in those of many others, or in the well-worn strum of a guitar. Years ago I tried to free myself from him by moving on from the mythologies of the slums to games with time and infinity, but those games are now Borges’ and I will have to conceive of other things. In this way, my life is a retreat and I lose everything and everything is turned over to oblivion, or to the other.
I do not know which of us is writing this piece.
Sunday, May 18, 2008
Well, it's been a while.
Things I'm especially fond of or interested in these days: This American Life on NPR, Cat Stevens' "Peace Train," writings of Jack Handy for the New Yorker and various other publications, anything by Julio Cortázar, love song mixes, love, hope, excitement, outside, cooking pasta and making guacamole, breaking old habits, the idea of growth. Also, universal health care, world economic systems, change, and running for ICC president next year. Food.
So much for writing a blog keeping people informed on happenings in Spain. I think that out of all of the blog posts I've written, probably only 4 or so are really about Spain. As usual, it's great here, though this semester has been very different from the last. For a while I felt that I had fallen off the face of the planet, as I was no longer seeing many of my Spanish friends, nor going out and being spontaneous as I had in the beginning. That was distressing. I think I've managed to strike more of a balance now between romance and...everything else (that's kind of how the categories tend to exist for me in practice at the beginning of a serious relationship. There's that one other person person (Alex), a little bubble in which the two of you fit, and then everything on the outside). But that's no good for anybody. Balance in all things.
School is wrapping up, which means exam season has arrived. Next week Friday, instead of taking an exam, I will be performing (as Vulcano, the lead role) in an 300 Millones, a play by the Argentinian writer Robert Arlt. I have a 15 minute monologue and am essentially an oafish Satan figure. Needless to say, the part comes naturally. I'm nervous, as I still haven't perfected my lines, but I'm also excited--we'll be performing in front of a large crowd of students, hopefully. We've worked hard on this project, and though I did my fair share of complaining in the beginning, it's turing out to be something I'm really proud of. Hopefully somebody will tape part of it. That'd be a cool thing to have, even if it ends up being a disaster, which I really don't expect. Oy, I'm procrastinating and not writing a very interesting post. I'll try to come up with some good observations or reflections on Spain and post them in the near future. Here's something to chew on, from my friend Chelsea last night. Spaniards have a tendency to dress like they're much older than they are when they're young (e.g. that 10-year old girl walking down the street wearing something out of a bad MTV video at half past midnight looking like she's about to go to the club, or dance on the pole), and act like they're much younger than they are for a very long time, for example, the 29-year-old who still lives with his mom because she does his laundry and cooks for him. It's actually less common here for a university student (most of them are older than American university students) to NOT still live with her parents. Not a bad thing, but certainly very different. Actually, if you ask most of the students still living with their parents, it tends to be more of a bad thing than a good thing, and yet that's just the way it works (unless you're very wealthy, in which case you probably share an apartment with other university students and just go home every weekend so you can get your laundry done and pick up a week's worth of already prepared food, like my master violinist roommate, Omar). Okay, that's all for now. Sorry for the weak post. I'll come back with more stuff, of better quality, in the near future.
Love,
Aaron
And now with a word from my good friend, Cat Stevens...
Peace Train
by Cat Stevens
Now I've been happy lately,
thinking about the good things to come
And I believe it could be,
something good has begun
Oh I've been smiling lately,
dreaming about the world as one
And I believe it could be,
some day it's going to come
Cause out on the edge of darkness,
there rides a peace train
Oh peace train take this country,
come take me home again
Now I've been smiling lately,
thinking about the good things to come
And I believe it could be,
something good has begun
Oh peace train sounding louder
Glide on the peace train
Come on now peace train
Yes, peace train holy roller
Everyone jump upon the peace train
Come on now peace train
Get your bags together,
go bring your good friends too
Cause it's getting nearer,
it soon will be with you
Now come and join the living,
it's not so far from you
And it's getting nearer,
soon it will all be true
Now I've been crying lately,
thinking about the world as it is
Why must we go on hating,
why can't we live in bliss
Cause out on the edge of darkness,
there rides a peace train
Oh peace train take this country,
come take me home again
Things I'm especially fond of or interested in these days: This American Life on NPR, Cat Stevens' "Peace Train," writings of Jack Handy for the New Yorker and various other publications, anything by Julio Cortázar, love song mixes, love, hope, excitement, outside, cooking pasta and making guacamole, breaking old habits, the idea of growth. Also, universal health care, world economic systems, change, and running for ICC president next year. Food.
So much for writing a blog keeping people informed on happenings in Spain. I think that out of all of the blog posts I've written, probably only 4 or so are really about Spain. As usual, it's great here, though this semester has been very different from the last. For a while I felt that I had fallen off the face of the planet, as I was no longer seeing many of my Spanish friends, nor going out and being spontaneous as I had in the beginning. That was distressing. I think I've managed to strike more of a balance now between romance and...everything else (that's kind of how the categories tend to exist for me in practice at the beginning of a serious relationship. There's that one other person person (Alex), a little bubble in which the two of you fit, and then everything on the outside). But that's no good for anybody. Balance in all things.
School is wrapping up, which means exam season has arrived. Next week Friday, instead of taking an exam, I will be performing (as Vulcano, the lead role) in an 300 Millones, a play by the Argentinian writer Robert Arlt. I have a 15 minute monologue and am essentially an oafish Satan figure. Needless to say, the part comes naturally. I'm nervous, as I still haven't perfected my lines, but I'm also excited--we'll be performing in front of a large crowd of students, hopefully. We've worked hard on this project, and though I did my fair share of complaining in the beginning, it's turing out to be something I'm really proud of. Hopefully somebody will tape part of it. That'd be a cool thing to have, even if it ends up being a disaster, which I really don't expect. Oy, I'm procrastinating and not writing a very interesting post. I'll try to come up with some good observations or reflections on Spain and post them in the near future. Here's something to chew on, from my friend Chelsea last night. Spaniards have a tendency to dress like they're much older than they are when they're young (e.g. that 10-year old girl walking down the street wearing something out of a bad MTV video at half past midnight looking like she's about to go to the club, or dance on the pole), and act like they're much younger than they are for a very long time, for example, the 29-year-old who still lives with his mom because she does his laundry and cooks for him. It's actually less common here for a university student (most of them are older than American university students) to NOT still live with her parents. Not a bad thing, but certainly very different. Actually, if you ask most of the students still living with their parents, it tends to be more of a bad thing than a good thing, and yet that's just the way it works (unless you're very wealthy, in which case you probably share an apartment with other university students and just go home every weekend so you can get your laundry done and pick up a week's worth of already prepared food, like my master violinist roommate, Omar). Okay, that's all for now. Sorry for the weak post. I'll come back with more stuff, of better quality, in the near future.
Love,
Aaron
And now with a word from my good friend, Cat Stevens...
Peace Train
by Cat Stevens
Now I've been happy lately,
thinking about the good things to come
And I believe it could be,
something good has begun
Oh I've been smiling lately,
dreaming about the world as one
And I believe it could be,
some day it's going to come
Cause out on the edge of darkness,
there rides a peace train
Oh peace train take this country,
come take me home again
Now I've been smiling lately,
thinking about the good things to come
And I believe it could be,
something good has begun
Oh peace train sounding louder
Glide on the peace train
Come on now peace train
Yes, peace train holy roller
Everyone jump upon the peace train
Come on now peace train
Get your bags together,
go bring your good friends too
Cause it's getting nearer,
it soon will be with you
Now come and join the living,
it's not so far from you
And it's getting nearer,
soon it will all be true
Now I've been crying lately,
thinking about the world as it is
Why must we go on hating,
why can't we live in bliss
Cause out on the edge of darkness,
there rides a peace train
Oh peace train take this country,
come take me home again
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