tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-62489992011-09-04T01:56:17.655-04:00Notebook"The nourishing fruit of the historically understood contains time as a precious but tasteless seed." (Walter Benjamin)Guillermo Parranoreply@blogger.comBlogger371100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6248999.post-1147586361750690192006-05-14T01:59:00.000-04:002006-05-14T01:59:21.763-04:00Guillermo Parranoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6248999.post-1128471216095017202005-10-04T20:04:00.000-04:002005-10-05T18:44:09.196-04:00La traducción es el agua de mi tercera sedAlfredo Silva EstradaPapel LiterarioEl Nacional1 Octubre 2005Paul Valéry, con un espíritu que podría parecer un tanto masoquista —él que amaba la dificultad y los obstáculos y que a menudo sabía vencerlos muy airosamente— se complacía en recordar aquella consideración de Mallarmé que lamentaba en la lengua francesa lo que era para él la terrible Guillermo Parranoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6248999.post-1123013139639594902005-08-02T15:56:00.000-04:002005-08-02T16:14:08.886-04:00Stainless SplendourStefan ColliniLondon Review of Books22 July 2004When Stephen Spender's son Matthew was ten years old, he caught his hand in a car door. 'The event,' John Sutherland writes, 'recalled other tragedies in the boy's little life; the running over, for example, of his dog Bobby - a "rather lugubrious looking spaniel" and a present from his godmother, Edith Sitwell. Six-year-old Guillermo Parranoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6248999.post-1121498559055381532005-07-16T03:19:00.000-04:002005-07-18T00:08:40.586-04:00Primavera en JevaniRoque DaltonColores andróginos, una verdadera Patagonia de colores, acechantes, anfitriones de la duda, impermeables a la mayor voracidad, organizadamente salvajes, manducables como una neo-sinfonía japonesa escuchada junto al sol que te ha despertado de la más larga noche de amor. Los pajarillos no temen de Oswaldo Barreto ni de mí, posiblemente nos confunden con dos Guillermo Parranoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6248999.post-1118992359875893572005-06-17T03:04:00.000-04:002005-06-17T05:06:42.960-04:00Obra poética, de Juan Sánchez PeláezJacobo SefamíLetras Libres (España)Junio 2005Juan Sánchez Peláez, Obra poética, Lumen, Barcelona, 258 pp.La obra poética de Juan Sánchez Peláez (1922-2003) forma parte de un rico acervo de escritura latinoamericana con afinidades surrealistas. Los vínculos son evidentes en las revistas que se adscribieron a la ética del movimiento francés, como la chilena Guillermo Parranoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6248999.post-1115385380946731872005-05-06T09:11:00.000-04:002005-06-17T04:59:15.506-04:00El que arrojaba uvas ardientesLORENZO GARCIA VEGAEl Nuevo Herald26 Enero 2004¿El que arrojaba uvas ardientes en las duras bahías? ¿Quién supo decirlo? Sólo un poeta, por supuesto, sólo mi amigo Juan Sánchez Peláez lo supo. Pero como a mí me resulta doloroso comenzar diciendo que ya él no está, voy a dar un salto que me lleve hacia un cinematógrafo de mi juventud. ¿Cómo es esto?Algunos poetas, o Guillermo Parranoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6248999.post-1108421536976094452005-02-14T17:48:00.000-05:002005-06-17T05:00:19.116-04:00Misterio y oficio de Salvador GarmendiaIbsen MartínezEl Nacional14 Febrero 2005--------------------------------------------------------------------------------“A cada hombre bastan su misterio y un oficio”, dejó dicho Chesterton en un verso que no creo famoso. A Salvador Garmendia me acercó en un principio, no su literatura, sino el haber compartido durante mucho tiempo con él un oficio del sigloGuillermo Parranoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6248999.post-1106262845222726672005-01-20T18:09:00.000-05:002005-06-17T05:00:40.240-04:00SotoSimón Alberto ConsalviEl Nacional20 de Enero de 2005 -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- “Desde muy niño yo era el pintor de la familia. Mi madre recuerda que yo era algo así como una catástrofe para la casa desde el momento en que me apoderaba de un lápiz. Paredes, mesas, libros, todo quedaba marcado. Ni yo le daba tregua a ella, ni ella a mí, Guillermo Parranoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6248999.post-1104138736082715302004-12-27T04:09:00.000-05:002005-06-17T08:31:08.336-04:00Alirio Díaz divisa el humo de su aldea nativaLuis Alberto CrespoEl Nacional 27 Diciembre 2004“El pueblo de la infancia es un aliado disminuido”, asevera el poeta René Char; pero no siempre la sentencia del gran poeta de la aromada flor de lavanda y la mansa luz del sur de Francia goza de total certeza.La infancia suele profesar por nosotros larga y fervorosa fidelidad y observa la obediencia que Guillermo Parranoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6248999.post-1077029077415099452004-02-17T09:44:00.000-05:002004-02-17T09:48:09.420-05:00Reading Caurimare
maybe as a place to comment the city
to unravel decades of memory for one
month in 2001 and one in 2002, all the
while in a country at the edge of civil war
Guillermo Parranoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6248999.post-1075932145994968642004-02-04T17:02:00.000-05:002004-02-04T17:47:37.936-05:00poor little poet that I was
Guillermo Parranoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6248999.post-107515307212008032004-01-26T16:37:00.000-05:002004-01-26T16:43:22.936-05:00Ill
If you must write a poem
and that poem is about a
civil war in your country,
does this civil war follow
you to another country
(also yours), regardless
of how distant it might
be? This question writes
the illest lines for me.
Guillermo Parranoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6248999.post-1074872044091039612004-01-23T10:34:00.000-05:002006-08-30T20:48:17.976-04:00Epigram"poem from the hand of the god of love"(U.M., 14 January 2004)Guillermo Parranoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6248999.post-1074804776387723262004-01-22T15:52:00.000-05:002004-01-22T15:56:20.640-05:00The Rings of Saturn
"Elegy, in England, is easy to buy, especially the country-house kind. But what distinguishes Sebald from most English elegists is the deep unease of his elegy--its metaphysical, Germanic insistence. Sebald does not just see a Romantic-political decline in England, as say Larkin did; he sees a decline of which we are not just the inheritors but the creators, too. This, I Guillermo Parranoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6248999.post-1074641042829150912004-01-20T18:24:00.000-05:002004-01-20T18:29:46.296-05:00Del otro lado
Como un reloj de arena cae la música en la música.
Estoy triste en la noche de colmillos de lobo.
Cae la música en la música como mi voz en mis voces.
(Alejandra Pizarnik, El infierno musical, 1971)
Guillermo Parranoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6248999.post-1074289238422106962004-01-16T16:40:00.000-05:002004-01-17T21:14:29.873-05:00Telenovela rarities
What we live is so exhausting and so ludicrous that the telenovela is a perfect metaphor. It portrays our irrationality, our earnestness in full perspective, seeing ourselves through exaggeration, or versions of our phantasmas. The procurement and dissolution of ghosts. Carried around as a ticket or library notice. One is frozen for a style's epoch. Or one acknowledges Guillermo Parranoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6248999.post-1074208001281375682004-01-15T18:06:00.000-05:002005-06-17T08:52:21.670-04:00Apartment: A makeshift miracle? Series: Distinctive Digs, Peculiar Pads; I.D. TAMPA St. Petersburg Times; St. Petersburg; Sep 8, 1994 by MICHAEL CANNING; Abstract: So which is it? Guillermo Parra and Jason Herring, both 23 and short-spoken, aren't ones to philosophize. Sharing the place with two other guys, they each like having an economical $150 share of the rent, even if their neighbors are a Guillermo Parranoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6248999.post-1073949157660650632004-01-12T18:12:00.000-05:002004-07-16T07:23:28.706-04:00&
Roberto Bolaño, Los detectives salvajes
Julio Cortázar, Rayuela
Teresa de la Parra, Ifigenia
Goethe, Los sufrimientos del joven Werther
Wilson Harris, The Palace of the Peacock
N.Scott Momaday, House Made of Dawn
V.S. Naipaul, A House for Mr. Biswas
W. G. Sebald, The Rings of Saturn
Mary Shelley, Frankenstein
Edward Upward, Journey to the Border
Arturo Uslar Pietri, Las lanzas Guillermo Parranoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6248999.post-1073400434984704232004-01-06T09:47:00.000-05:002004-01-08T08:52:20.920-05:00A vision
speaks languages we will never own
carries hurt while reading insomnia
is younger than me and beautiful
"una joven visionaria" who lets
me inhabit the heaviest loss
talking under palm fronds in a
backyard facing Gulf sky heat
there were freshly-cut sea grape
branches stacked on the front
sidewalk, from where I end up
here to blur its course, write
her tablets on these Guillermo Parranoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6248999.post-1072724596929054322003-12-29T14:03:00.000-05:002005-06-17T08:26:20.560-04:00Ybor CityA glow of sounds is the city. Gregory Corso can sometimes have an elegance maintained by alacrity and elegiac tones, a certain Splendour in his work that most poets lack.Drove through Ybor this morning, past the house on 1920 Fifth Avenue, it's now unoccupied and the entire lot is up for sale. On the next block they're building a huge complex of lofts. In all the streets saw treasure Guillermo Parranoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6248999.post-1072718732263214472003-12-29T12:25:00.000-05:002005-06-17T08:29:33.516-04:00LibrariesAs the city can become a library, driving through Ybor, imagining it as the basis for Anna in the Tropics, which aside from the dismissive reviews from the "literary" press is an important American play. And much of this importance comes from its evocation and analysis of place. The cigar factories and the Cuban culture in Tampa in the early decades of the 20th century. Jose Marti Guillermo Parranoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6248999.post-1072690342201550412003-12-29T04:32:00.000-05:002003-12-29T04:39:16.423-05:00Cuatro conciencias
The poem "Cuatro conciencias" by Cesar Vallejo from his Poemas humanos, those crucial texts he wrote in Paris in 1937 and 1938. What has the poem meant, in terms of form teaching us that a minimalist approach is best, particularly for the approach to poverty. Walcott's playwriting slogan: "Think poor."
These would be then the four repetitions that I think. New Order's Guillermo Parranoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6248999.post-1072667924445222792003-12-28T22:18:00.000-05:002005-06-17T05:04:32.563-04:00New OrderBeing in Florida is concretized for me in New Order's 1980s albums: Power, Corruption & Lies (1983), Low-Life (1985), and Technique (1989). That exhilirating mixture of loud rock guitar and drums, with the electronica beats fuelled for seasons. The latter of these was recorded in Ibiza, Spain and evokes that early 1990s "era" I'm concerned with narrating. As a preface.The songs on Guillermo Parranoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6248999.post-1072645845501624282003-12-28T16:10:00.000-05:002004-01-03T01:46:36.060-05:00Dream
functioned as the realest position
before the drive up the coast, Dunedin
dirt road is along the shore, after
restaurant, same repetition of faces
seemed familiar, twelve years ago
Realer than the transit effort from this
point of Clearwater toward the Tampa
neighborhoods of the "era" accorded
an historical mesh, pre-fascist tome
financed by university and early 20s
rather, function Guillermo Parranoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6248999.post-1072602282682964072003-12-28T04:04:00.000-05:002003-12-28T04:04:59.776-05:00*
"I hold the city here, complete:
And every shape defined by light
Is mine, or corresponds to mine,
Some flickering or some steady shine.
This map is ground of my delight.
Between the limits, night by night,
I watch a malady's advance,
I recognize my love of chance."
(Thom Gunn, "A Map of the City," 1954)
Guillermo Parranoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6248999.post-1072601795899492532003-12-28T03:56:00.000-05:002005-06-17T04:50:19.430-04:00A Hotel LifeBegan in La Guaira of the mid 1970s, etablished while entering the 33rd year in Honolulu for a week. On the 16th floor, the mountains carving fog.The flowers found me blocks away, the tropicsThey sound like bedside table drawers openingThe papers feel and smell like Bible pages.Guillermo Parranoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6248999.post-1072522909370248212003-12-27T06:01:00.000-05:002003-12-27T06:05:20.586-05:00lines for imrovement of waking
lines for improvement of waking
a financier's daughter, the island
on a map we have Chapoquoit
revealed as being small and obscure
in the Massachusetts coastline
hit, at times, by hurricanes or storms
there was one last August
whose skies lit up repeatedly for hours
lightning storm larger than any
I've seen before there were books
to read and time to Guillermo Parranoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6248999.post-1072522477998656952003-12-27T05:54:00.000-05:002003-12-27T05:56:57.280-05:00"Mont Blanc
Lines Written in the Vale of Chamouni
1
The everlasting universe of things
Flows through the mind, and rolls its rapid waves,
Now dark--now glittering--now reflecting gloom--
Now lending splendour, where from secret springs
The source of human thought its tribute brings
Of waters, --with a sound but half its own.
Such as a feeble brook will oft assume
In the wild woods, among the Guillermo Parranoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6248999.post-1072519212716268722003-12-27T05:00:00.000-05:002003-12-27T05:45:23.820-05:00Ritual de lo Habitual
Centered during the years 1990-1995 in Tampa, Florida and environs, as now, our primary residence. As in Residencia en la tierra, some epic connotations but to the "slacker" sides. But, again, Neruda is always superceded by Vallejo. All the Boom rituals apply, la lectura reveladora de Cien años de soledad en México en 1990. H. and I met at the restaurant where I washed Guillermo Parranoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6248999.post-1072517226606614672003-12-27T04:27:00.000-05:002005-06-17T08:33:47.143-04:00"Had I not once a lovely youth, heroic, fabulous, to be written on sheets of gold, good luck and to spare! Through what crime, through what fault have I deserved my weakness now?"(Arthur Rimbaud, Une Saison en Enfer, tr. Louise Varese)Guillermo Parranoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6248999.post-1072504359581112242003-12-27T00:52:00.000-05:002005-06-17T04:53:31.030-04:00ExpenditureHow does one spend lines?It is about using the citationsfor your sentence's purpose.If you lack one, then at least recognizing valuable informationwhat you're gathering, editinga notebook, meant to bebrief, accurate, succinct and collectivelly grown, dissociationspending time with leisure, studyGuillermo Parranoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6248999.post-1072478427875080992003-12-26T17:40:00.000-05:002004-07-16T07:22:35.163-04:00A History
One should have been reading more Vallejo instead of Rimbaud. Less self-aggrandizement, a healthier dose of humility and common sense. For the sake of anonymity's self-awareness, this was a five-year plan of psychedelic proportions we were vowing to complete. It ended up straggling below the five-year mark, but seemed somehow to encompass the entire decade of the 1990s. It was Guillermo Parranoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6248999.post-1072477086163407822003-12-26T17:18:00.000-05:002005-06-17T04:51:29.293-04:00Saturday July 27 1991banda sonoranow it's that far offin the vibration ofminutes read RimbaudNow to finally sleep, aswe've been up throughall of last night, so dosedI could hardly do anythingexcept watch clouds abovethe beach spirallingpatterns I listenedto guitar girls swamin the shore, full moon on,a Gulf wind scallopinghouses, hurricane condosreturned from the beach atdawn, H. drove us to St. Guillermo Parranoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6248999.post-1072432446890985062003-12-26T04:54:00.000-05:002005-06-17T08:47:52.163-04:00#house made of dawnhouse made of morning lighthouse made of rainhouse made of summer brancheshouse made of dark cloudhouse made of Ocean Rainhouse made of Low-Lifehouse made of Daily Operationhouse made of Reves/Yosoyhouse made of Murmurhouse made of Inner Visionshouse made of Sunburnhouse made of The Queen is Deadhouse made of Illmatichouse made of TechniqueGuillermo Parranoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6248999.post-1072431817907875542003-12-26T04:43:00.000-05:002005-06-17T08:46:44.996-04:00"I'm not here. They've forgotten about me when the photographer walking along the beach proposes a portrait, un recuerdo, a remembrance literally. No one notices I'm off by myself building sand houses. They won't realize I'm missing until the photographer delivers the portrait to Catita's house, and I look at it for the first time and ask,--When was this taken? Where?Then everyone realizes Guillermo Parranoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6248999.post-1072431232638901592003-12-26T04:33:00.000-05:002005-06-17T08:46:06.050-04:00"One of those problems is bound to be the alternation we have already identified in the dialectic of the break and the period. This is, as has already been shown, a kind of Gestalt fluctuation between the perception of modernity as an event and its apprehension as the cultural logic of a whole period of history (one which is by definition-at least until the onset of theories of Guillermo Parranoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6248999.post-1072429555438551442003-12-26T04:05:00.000-05:002005-06-17T08:47:23.940-04:00#These were Planet Waves we were talking aboutin apartments across the city from one anotherin the year's largest snowstorm, as John Wienersrecalled happening upon Charles Olson readingduring a hurricane (Hazel?) in mid 1950s BostonLikewise, Antonia Palacios sits in a room in Altamirafor a decade without writing, only listening to the cityTaking the time for two blogs, two others inactiveas one Guillermo Parranoreply@blogger.com