Sobre Burocracia

Es lamentable caer en la desesperación porque no hemos entregado a tiempo un papel o porque un señor todavía no ha firmado un oficio. Es imperdonable que esas miserias produzcan angustias y, a veces, desgracias. Es metafísicamente escandaloso que causas insignificantes tengan tanta importancia en nuestras vidas. La burocracia -- salvo en paraísos sin duda artificiales-- es esa desproporción, esa alquimia que transforma a un vejete pálido o una cincuentona gelatinosa en personajes decisivos e inevitables. Un universo de reyezuelos, sellos, prosa nauseabunda, cuchicheos equívocos, falsos problemas, reglamentos, pasillos, salas de espera, sillones grasientos, incertidumbre y despotismo.

Crónica Americana (Fragmento)
Alejandro Rossi

Very few things actually get manufactured

Very few things actually get manufactured these days, because in an infinitely large Universe such as, for instance, the one in which we live, most things one possibly imagine, and a lot of things one would rather not, grow somewhere.

The Total Perspective Vortex

The Universe, as has been observed before, is an unsettlingly big place, a fact which for the sake of a quiet life most people tend to ignore.
Many would happily move to somewhere rather smaller of their own devising, and this is what most beings in fact do.
For instance, in one corner of the Eastern Galactic Arm lies the large forest planet Oglaroon, the entire "intelligent" population of which lives permanently in one fairly small and crowded nut tree. In which tree they are born, live, fall in love, carve tiny speculative articles in the bark on the meaning of life, the futility of death and the importance of birth control, fight a few extremely minor wars, and eventually die strapped to the underside of some of the less accessible outer branches.
In fact the only Oglaroonians who ever leave their tree are those who are hurled out of it for the heinous crime of wondering whether any of the other trees might be capable of supporting life at all, or indeed whether the other trees are anything other than illusions brought on by eating too many Oglanuts.
Exotic though this behaviour may seem, there is no life form in the Galaxy which is not in some way guilty of the same thing, which is why the Total Perspective Vortex is as horrific as it is.
For when you are put into the Vortex you are given just one momentary glimpse of the entire unimaginable infinity of creation, and somewhere in it a tiny little marker, a microscopic dot on a microscopic dot, which says "You are here."

----------------
Now playing: The Postal Service - We Will Become Silhouettes
via FoxyTunes

Fahrenheit 451

- Quiero presentarle a Jonathan Swift, el autor de ese malicioso libro político, Los Viajes de Gulliver. Y ese otro sujeto es Charles Darwin, y aquél es Schopenhauer, y aquél, Einstein, y el que está junto a mí es Mr. Albert Schweitzer, un filósofo muy agradable, desde luego. Aquí estamos todos, Montag. Aritófanes, Mahatma Gandhi, Gautama Buda, Confucio, Thomas Love Peacock, Tomas Jefferson y Mr. Lincoln. También somos Mateo, Marco, Lucas y Juan.

------------------------------------------------------------

Lo más importante que debíamos meternos a la cabeza es que no somos importantes, que no debemos ser pedantes. No debemos sentirnos superiores a nadie en el mundo. Sólo somos sobrecubiertas para libros, sin valor intrínseco.

Ray Bradbury

Every Damn Morning

Visiten xkcd

On worldmaking II

never mind mind, essence is not essential, and matter doesn't matter

(Goodman, 1978)

On worldmaking

That we find what we are prepared to find (what we look for or what forcefully affronts our expectations), and that we are likely to be blind to what neither helps nor hinders our pursuits, are commonplaces of everydaylife...

Goodman, N. (1968)

Shelob

There agelong she had dwelt, an evil thing in spider-from, even such as once of old had lived in the Land of the Elves in the West that is now under the Sea, such as Beren fought in the Mountains of Terror in Doriath, and so came to Lúthien upon the green sward amid the hemlocks in the moonlight long ago. How Shelob came there, flying from ruin, no tale tells, for out of the Dark Years few tales have come. But still she was there, who was there before Sauron, and before the first stone of Barad-Dûr; and she served none but herself, drinking the blood of Elves and Men, bloated and grown fat with endless brooding over her feasts, weaving webs of shadow; for all living things were her food, and her vomit darkness.

Tolkein

The Reality of Everyday

"I am alone in the world of my dreams, but I know that the world of everyday life is real to others as it is to myself....I know that there is an ongoing correspondence between my meanings and their meanings in this world, that we share a common sense about its reality”.

Berger & Luckmann

Risk

And then the day came,
when the risk
to remain tight
in a bud
was more painful
than the risk
it took
to blossom.

Anais Nin

The Wander

Not all who wander are lost.

J. R. R. Tolkien

Do not go gentle into that good night

Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieve it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Dylan Thomas

So we'll go no more a-roving

So, we'll go no more a-roving
So late into the night,
Though the heart be still as loving,
And the moon be still as bright.

For the sword outwears its sheath,
And the soul wears out the breast,
And the heart must pause to breathe,
And love itself have rest.

Though the night was made for loving,
And the day returns too soon,
Yet we'll go no more a-roving
By the light of the moon.

Lord Byron

On victims

It has become attractive to think of oneself as a victim (Robinson, 1997).

El Fragmento

¿Tu palidez se debe al cansancio
de trepar por los cielos y ver la tierra,
mientras andas errante y solitaria...?

Shelley

Retrato del artista adolescente

La ecuación en la página de su cuaderno comenzó a extenderse y a formar una cola cada vez más ancha, llena de ojos y tachonada de estrellas como la de un pavo real; y después de eliminar los ojos y las estrellas en forma de exponentes, volvía a encogerse. Los exponentes que aparecían y desparecían eran ojos que se abrían y cerraban. Y los ojos al abrirse y al cerrarse eran estrellas que nacían o se apagaban. El vasto ciclo de vida de las estrellas llevaba su imaginación, hacia afuera hasta su límite y hacia dentro hasta su centro, mientras una música distante acompañaba ese ir y venir. ¿Qué música? la música se acercó y él recordó las palabras, esas palabras del fragmento de Shelley donde habla de la luna anda errante y sola, pálida de cansancio. Las estrellas comenzaron a demenuzarse y una nube de fino polvo estelar cayó por el espacio.

James Joyce

On Presidents

The President in particular is very much a figurehead - he wields no real power whatsoever. He is apparently chosen by the government, but the qualities he is required to
display are not those of leadership but those of finely judged outrage. For this reason the President is always a controversial choice, always an infuriating but fascinating character. His job is
not to wield power but to draw attention away from it. On those criteria Zaphod Beeblebrox is one of the most successful Presidents the Galaxy has ever had - he has already spent two of
his ten Presidential years in prison for fraud. Very very few people realize that the President and the Government have virtually no power at all, and of these very few people only six know
whence ultimate political power is wielded. Most of the others secretly believe that the ultimate decision-making process is handled by a computer. They couldn't be more wrong.

Douglas Adams (The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy)

Made of Stone

Stone Roses - Made of Stone

Your knuckles whiten on the wheel
The last thing that your hands will feel
Your final flight cant be delayed

No earth, just sky its so surreal
Your pink fat lips let go a scream
You fry and melt I love the scene

Sometimes I fantasise
When the streets are cold and lonely
And the cars they burn below me
Dont these times fill your eyes

When the streets are cold and lonely
And the cars they burn below me
Are you all alone
Is anybody home?

Im standing warm against the cold
Now that the flames have taken hold
At least you left your life in style

And for far as I can see
Ten twisted grills grin back at me
Bad money dies I love the scene

Sometimes I fantasise
When the streets are cold and lonely
And the cars they burn below me
Dont these times fill your eyes

When the streets are cold and lonely
And the cars they burn below me
Are you all alone
Is anybody home?

Sometimes I fantasise
When the streets are cold and lonely
And the cars they burn below me
Dont these times fill your eyes

When the streets are cold and lonely
And the cars they burn below me
Are you all alone
Are you made of stone?

* Saldrá una página nueva, si quieren escuchar la canción, darle al botón de play que aparecé a lado del título de la canción.

When two strangers meet

- La mayoría de la gente no presta atención a esas cosas. Creen que las palabras son como piedras, como grandes objetos inamovibles sin vida, como mónadas que nunca cambian.
- Las piedras cambian. El viento y el agua pueden desgastarlas. Pueden erosionarse. Pueden machacarse. Pueden convertirse en pedazos, en grava, en polvo.
- Exactamente. Enseguida he sabido que era usted un hombre con sentido común, señor Quinn. Si usted supiera cuantas personas me han interpretado mal. Mi trabajo ha sufrido por causa de ello. Ha sufrido terriblemente.

Paul Auster - La Ciudad de Cristal

----------------
Now playing: Justice - Phantom pt. II
via FoxyTunes

Despedida

Me voy como lo hago siempre - contesté -. Con una sonrisa alegre y un ligero saludo con la mano. Y con un profundo y sincero deseo de no volver a verlo en una pecera. Buenas noches.

Raymond Chandler - La Ventana Siniestra (a.k.a. The High Window)