domingo, 15 de mayo de 2011

What else, but love?


We call love all which is related to a man and a woman, as well as the love of our parents, our brothers, our relatives. We can love a country, a flag, a music. Such as self-esteem, we also love our own ideas and opinions. Anyway, love is a word impossible to define. We cannot find and define particularly each kind of love.
Classical philosophers refer to proper love, to the existing between a man and a woman, which their goal in common is the formation of a family.
Biologically speaking it is proved that falling in love is physiologically similar to mental illness. The reasons romantic love fades may be found in the way our brains respond to the surge and pulse of dopamine that accompanies passions and gets us high. Dopamine creates intense energy, exhilaration, which is why, when we are in love, we can stay up all night, climb a mountain faster, and push the limits of our skills.  
Although it is a topic that opens a wide range of possibilities and opinions, the truest think in the history of love it is that it is a basic and eternal force, a sentiment sustained since the begging of the human race till nowadays. Love does not resign to the moral values, it can start a fight or it can put a fire out.

In literature love have also followed a clear trajectory. The reflection of the sentiments in a poem, a prose, a novel, a paint, an sculpture, a song, allow us to understand the evolution and the colors of love throughout the history of man.
Two examples of two different kinds of love in the classic literature are Romeo and Juliet and Penelope and Ulysses.
In Rome and Juliet, Shakespeare said: “love of young people is in the eyes”. The author tries to reflect the freshness and innocence of love flowing in young people, without hypocrisy. Actually, the real weight of the love story of Romeo and Juliet is the forbidden love. In the novel, there are disputes between two families, Capulets and Montagues, and even thought, they decide to be faithful to their hearts. Of course, this suffering arrives to the reader.
In the other hand, The Odyssey, Homer describes the unfinished love between Penelope and Ulysses, separated each other by a period of twenty years.  In addition to the love that unite them in the length of time, Ulysses needs intelligence to avoid the temptations during the absence of love, during the Trojan war.
In both cases, love as a eternal feeling persisted. Moreover, these two works that were spoken to different audiences, eventually achieve the aim of describing love as an anguishing feeling.

After this loooooong reflection, I want to get closer to the final conclusion:
This feeling will conquer all the places in the universe because it always fly away as a bird breaking the calm of the sky. That’s why love makes us bold, bright and take risks we wouldn’t normally take.

Please friends, pray attention in our literature classes!!! Poets, romantics, writers, musicians, philosophers and all kind of artists that sometimes you would like to destroy, they have been doing the labor of understanding the strange language of our hearts and they have been traducing the nature of our souls.

Let's listen to a classic love song.....
 (LOVE ME TENDER - Elvis Presley)  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-Y-bd3aDMGA 

lunes, 25 de abril de 2011

Down in Barcelona....

Down in Rambles,
we felt like flowers in a garden, we were red and green dreaming of a world full of music and full of peace.
Down in Rambles,
we were young and fresh, waiting for a future without hurries and without paint.
Down in Rambles,
all was so easy, drinking rum in plastic glasses and smoking some cigarettes.
Down in Rambles,
who did know us? We laugh loud and we sang songs which were still not written.
Down in Rambles,
kisses were free. Happy endings are flying in the clouds of our minds.
Down in Rambles,
we didn’t talk about time, we explained some stories that take place in real life.
Down in Rambles,
serotonin came up so hard, she tickled my fingers and also my heart.
Down in Rambles,
I won’t forget, next year we will spend more nights having fun there.



... Or anywhere in Barcelona ...



sábado, 23 de abril de 2011

Can you play the guitar, boy?


With a hat in his heat, with an old guitar in his arm, with a bottle of wine in his other hand he deleted us with his sad melodies, his broken voice and his beautiful and romantic letters. Pete Doherty, maybe the last enfant terrible from the UK, clouded over the Apolo theatre in Barcelona last Monday with the smoke of his cigarettes and his unkempt talent.
Two dancers with tutu accompanied him on several songs. Someone threw him a bra which was hung in the microphone, as well as a book of Alfaguara. Doherty began to read it with a funny Spanish. They also threw sketches from the school and even a pair of plastic “maracas”. The singer broke out laughing in several occasions, which makes us suppose he was having fun and that he was really comfortable with us. Doherty expressed his appreciation for the gifts and the public’s warm by throwing cans of dark beer, a few records and his mouth organ. Not only that, after closing the bolus with the monumental anthem of Fuck Forever, by his last band Babyshambles, released to the audience his acoustic guitar! His two assistants were working to get it back. Pure decadence romanticism, between the rubbish and the class.
So many people already appreciate the amazing music he makes, but I agree that it is not strange that some other don’t see him as a poet, as an irresistible artist or a musical genius, they just see him as a drug addict… and he is.

Since I saw him in action… I’ve fall in love with him!!!  Please enjoyed it.

domingo, 6 de marzo de 2011

See the sun

The clock say quarter to one a.m., it’s late, it’s dark outside and Mr Cold is too often visiting specially this town. At this moment I don’t hear anything, but silence is hardly ever absolute: the sound of the electricity dance in my lamp is making me company.
Inside the bed I use to think what I am, what I am not and what I want to be.

I love this landscape, this people which is MY people, I love its warm. However at the same time, I’m waiting for discover the outside, to travel exotic countries, try new experiences, know new friends and learn all the sciences.

I want to unfurl my wings and fly to a different place. A place where people succeed in remembering compliments they receive and forgetting the insults. A place where people assess more important the criterion of a person than his make up or his way to dress. A place where effort and enthusiasm are ahead of corruption and hypocrisy.

I know all this is a romantic idea; I know sometimes I don’t like to put my feet on the floor. May be is just the age: a time when your dreams flower in our skin because for us it is all too easy. In the better case it is just the wind of spring that is caressing our faces too soon, or even this song I have just heart give me good sensations.

I mean, I don’t want to know why. I prefer to do it in this way. Smile at the days; give an opportunity to this life to be better without anything in return.

A cup of coffee

A green look behind the smoke of a cup of coffee.

A coffee is emptying but is being filled with advices. 
Advices and sincere words are archiving in drawers of your mind.
A fancy mind is always away from the present.
An insistent present is travelling to look for a smile.
A shy, beautiful, smile behind the coffee that is now cold.

The cold of your eyes that speak without words to me and they shine me without light.
The light of this afternoon is vanishing to welcome the dance of the moon.
A daring Moon is swinging between the chords of a song.
A Bob Dylan song accompanies us on this February afternoon. 
February is defrosting and flowing to find the heat of a dawn of spring.
I would like the spring to be warm, a spring which incites to create an orgy of colours, a spring that apart our loneliness, a spring that brings me closer to you.

You, who you now look at the sugar from the bottom of the cup, you shut up. 
We shut up but we know that we have just said everything between silences.
Silence is broken with the metallic sound of the spoon.
The spoon is moved by your hands.
These cold hands are caring a damaged skin; these cold hands are holding a new cigarette.

A dark look behind the smoke of another cup of coffee.