tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-71771396628312063732024-03-13T16:04:37.778-05:00Este es un título temporal...UNA LÍNEA TEMPORAL RESULTADO DEL COPY-PASTE INFINITOCarolinaVKhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17089498169085782347noreply@blogger.comBlogger124125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7177139662831206373.post-6338817254538471522012-01-31T11:49:00.001-05:002012-01-31T11:49:53.813-05:00And If You Should Leave Me<span class="Title01"></span> <p class="normal">And if you should leave me<br /> I would say that the ghost<br /> Of Cassandra<br /> Has passed through<br /> My eyes<br /> I would say that the stars<br /> In their malice<br /> Merely light up the sky<br /> To stretch my torment<br /> And that the waves crash<br /> On the shores<br /> To bring salt-stings on<br /> My face:<br /> For you re-connect me with<br /> All the lights of the sky<br /> And the salt of the waves<br /> And the myths in the air.<br /> And with your passing<br /> The evening would become too dark To dream in<br /> And the morning Too bright. </p> <p class="normal"><span style="font-size:85%;">Ben Okri, March 1986.</span></p>CarolinaVKhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17089498169085782347noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7177139662831206373.post-90725151532502958272012-01-22T13:54:00.002-05:002012-01-22T13:56:08.916-05:00"Writing and reading decrease our sense of isolation. They deepen and widen and expand our sense of life: they feed the soul. When writers make us shake our heads with the exactness of their prose and their truths, and even make us laugh about ourselves or life, our buoyancy is restored. We are given a shot at dancing with, or at least clapping along with, the absurdity of life, instead of being squashed by it over and over again. It’s like singing on a boat during a terrible storm at sea. You can’t stop the raging storm, but singing can change the hearts and spirits of the people who are together on that ship.”<br /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">Anne Lammot</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Bird by Bird: Some Instructions on Writing and Life</span></span>CarolinaVKhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17089498169085782347noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7177139662831206373.post-32781176739724892252011-11-01T11:36:00.002-05:002011-11-01T11:39:56.215-05:00My timing is offDía de los muertos.<br /><br />Están los fantasmas de los que se fueron de verdad pero me cuidan. De los que siguen por ahí y me atormentan más que los otros; muertos vivientes, fantasmas de lo que hubiera podido ser, zombis que se comen mi cerebro sin siquiera estar cerca.<br /><br />Una historia de cómo las cosas no hubieran podido acabar peor.CarolinaVKhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17089498169085782347noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7177139662831206373.post-21943133518756510292011-08-23T20:51:00.000-05:002011-08-23T21:05:08.850-05:00PartingMy life closed twice before its close;
<br /> It yet remains to see
<br />If Immortality unveil
<br /> A third event to me<p> So huge, so hopeless to conceive,
<br /> As these that twice befell.
<br />Parting is all we know of heaven,
<br /> And all we need of hell.</p><p>Emily Dickinson
<br /></p>CarolinaVKhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17089498169085782347noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7177139662831206373.post-89548240969768800972011-03-30T08:32:00.004-05:002011-08-23T21:05:58.518-05:00I want to be a member of The Cloud Appreciation Society<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVyec0x7jQuCU8fKleRVD481CXVfFb0OXncpjqmI4USnFSfhhV93xGIXW7v2I5eFUHI__37fGbPtVs5klVd97oN6ICnxM0Qs9bGx82Nm_b9lsqpsSi2mB4HquQRAtUwJKPJJqHlnwE0iE/s1600/cloud-types-poster.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 226px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVyec0x7jQuCU8fKleRVD481CXVfFb0OXncpjqmI4USnFSfhhV93xGIXW7v2I5eFUHI__37fGbPtVs5klVd97oN6ICnxM0Qs9bGx82Nm_b9lsqpsSi2mB4HquQRAtUwJKPJJqHlnwE0iE/s320/cloud-types-poster.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5589865956339315666" border="0" /></a>
<br />
<br />
<br /><div style="text-align: center;">WE BELIEVE that clouds are unjustly maligned
<br />and that life would be immeasurably poorer without them.
<br />
<br /><div class="cloud">*
<br /></div>
<br />We think that they are Nature’s poetry,
<br />and the most egalitarian of her displays, since
<br />everyone can have a fantastic view of them.
<br />
<br /><div class="cloud">*
<br /></div>
<br />We pledge to fight ‘blue-sky thinking’ wherever we find it.
<br />Life would be dull if we had to look up at
<br />cloudless monotony day after day.
<br />
<br /><div class="cloud">*
<br /></div>
<br />We seek to remind people that clouds are expressions of the
<br />atmosphere’s moods, and can be read like those of
<br />a person’s countenance.
<br /><div class="cloud">
<br />*
<br /></div>
<br />Clouds are so commonplace that their beauty is often overlooked.
<br />They are for dreamers and their contemplation benefits the soul.
<br />Indeed, all who consider the shapes they see in them will save
<br />on psychoanalysis bills.
<br /><div class="cloud">
<br />*
<br /></div>
<br />And so we say to all who’ll listen:
<br />Look up, marvel at the ephemeral beauty, and live life with your head in the clouds!
<br />
<br /><span style="font-size:85%;">(www.cloudappreciationsociety.org)</span>
<br /></div>CarolinaVKhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17089498169085782347noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7177139662831206373.post-58925368501241301942011-01-01T15:04:00.003-05:002011-01-01T15:12:42.030-05:00Telegrama para el 2010<span style="font-size:100%;">Llegaron personas nuevas, que me sorprenden todo el tiempo. Por las que estoy muy agradecida.<br /><br />Se fueron otras. Unas temporalmente y en busca de sorpresas. Otras, para siempre en medio de un silencio inexplicable. Por estas personas también estoy agradecida.<br /><br />Se fue un gato y llegó otro. Se fue un trabajo y llegará otra cosa. Viajé a celebrar un cumpleaños y a perseguir a mi banda favorita.<br /><br />Di regalos y le dije a varias personas que las quería. Unas me dijeron que me querían también, otras, otro, todavía se quedan callados.<br /><br />Un año de personas, viajes, regalos y gatos.<br /><br />¿Y al amor? ¿Ese tipo de amor? No, nada, otro año sin amor. Otro año en el que no sentí nada. Lo único que siento es que desconozco mi alma con más frecuencia.</span>CarolinaVKhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17089498169085782347noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7177139662831206373.post-45021883642832231492010-11-23T22:11:00.002-05:002010-11-23T22:12:37.974-05:00And so, in his wisdom he said<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigzUD4__ZidmPndZcPfZZpug8Tp9oXQmgfUvRKxC1_UPUFgdhXtBn5E8SG__OvG1w19ZXmYlgXagZ-5c3CF36BpOdtSZ7dQ1TuQjEAVw6dUPDEGHAge11ehGfEcukXntyUMiUBQCpLvUI/s1600/tumblr_lbaedg75La1qzzh8ko1_500.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigzUD4__ZidmPndZcPfZZpug8Tp9oXQmgfUvRKxC1_UPUFgdhXtBn5E8SG__OvG1w19ZXmYlgXagZ-5c3CF36BpOdtSZ7dQ1TuQjEAVw6dUPDEGHAge11ehGfEcukXntyUMiUBQCpLvUI/s400/tumblr_lbaedg75La1qzzh8ko1_500.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5542948789431920898" border="0" /></a>CarolinaVKhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17089498169085782347noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7177139662831206373.post-7651645317935700282010-08-06T20:47:00.000-05:002010-08-06T20:48:36.729-05:00Animal de costumbreXVIII<br /><br />Mi animal de costumbre me observa y me vigila.<br />Mueve su larga cola. Viene hasta mí<br />A una hora imprecisa.<br /><br />Me devora todos los días, a cada segundo.<br /><br />Cuando voy a la oficina, me pregunta:<br />"¿Por qué trabajas<br />Justamente<br />Aquí?"<br /><br />Y yo le respondo, muy bajo, casi al oído:<br />Por nada, por nada.<br />Y como soy supersticioso, toco madera<br />De repente,<br />Para que desaparezca.<br /><br />Estoy ilógicamente desamparado:<br />De las rodillas para arriba<br />A lo largo de esta primavera que se inicia<br />Mi animal de costumbre me roba el sol<br />Y la claridad fugaz de los transeúntes.<br /><br />Yo nunca he sido fiel a la luna ni a la lluvia ni a los<br />guijarros de la playa.<br /><br />Mi animal de costumbre me toma por las muñecas,<br />me seca las lágrimas.<br /><br />A una hora imprecisa<br />Baja del cielo.<br /><br />A una hora imprecisa<br />Sorbe el humo de mi pobre sopa.<br /><br />A una hora imprecisa<br />En que expío mi sed<br />Pasa con jarras de vino.<br /><br />A una hora imprecisa<br />Me matará, recogerá mis huesos<br />Y ya mis huesos metidos en un gran saco, hará de mí<br />Un pequeño barco,<br />Una diminuta burbuja sobre la playa.<br /><br />Entonces sí<br />Seré fiel<br />A la luna<br />La lluvia<br />El sol<br />Y los guijarros de la playa.<br /><br />Entonces,<br />Persistirá un extraño rumor<br />En torno al árbol y la víctima;<br /><br />Persistirá…<br /><br />Barriendo para siempre<br />Las rosas,<br />Las hojas dúctiles<br />Y el viento.<br /><br />(De <i>Animal de costumbre</i>, 1959)<br /><br />Juan Sánchez Peláez (1922-2003)CarolinaVKhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17089498169085782347noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7177139662831206373.post-17607176459213277262010-07-24T12:36:00.001-05:002010-07-24T12:37:55.023-05:00I'm with Kerouac<div> </div> “Realize, Allen, that if all the world were green, there would be no such thing as the color green. Similarly, men cannot know what it is to be together without otherwise knowing what it is to be apart. If all the world were love, then, how could love exist? This is why we turn away from each other on moments of great happiness and closeness. How can we know happiness and closeness without contrasting them, like lights?”<br />— <i>Kerouac to Ginsberg, September 1948</i><br /><br />“The point is that all thought is inexistence and unreality, the only reality is green, love. Don’t you see that it is just the whole point of life not to be self conscious? That it must all be green? All love? Would the world then seem incomprehensible? That is an error. The world would seem incomprehensible to the rational faculty which keeps trying to keep us from the living in green, which fragments and makes every thing seem ambiguous and mysterious and many colors. The world and we are green. We are inexistent until we make an absolute decision to close the circle of individual thought entirely and begin to exist in god with absolute unqualified and unconscious understanding of green, love and nothing but love, until a car, money, people, work, things are love, motion is love, thought is love, sex is love. Everything is love. That is what the phrase ‘God is Love’ means.”<br />— <i>Ginsberg to Kerouac, October 1948</i>CarolinaVKhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17089498169085782347noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7177139662831206373.post-6782902714559842132010-07-02T16:12:00.001-05:002010-07-02T16:16:24.772-05:00Para Ana<p align="center"><object width="480" height="295"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/sjCw3-YTffo&hl=en_US&fs=1"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/sjCw3-YTffo&hl=en_US&fs=1" width="480" height="295" allowscriptaccess="never" allowfullscreen="true" wmode="transparent" type="application/x-shockwave-flash"></embed></object><br /><br />Take the load off Annie,<br />Take the load for free,<br />Take the load off Annie,<br />And put the load right on me </p>CarolinaVKhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17089498169085782347noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7177139662831206373.post-55689306237110450732010-07-01T10:51:00.002-05:002010-07-01T10:55:40.907-05:00Not only art<div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfggAYmTa7HaO_sk2GsBLEtDV98GY-RNaU-vqo2P9f8Tt_HYvzNNL1-dYz1BKkF9CyfUt5GrDOaLplhgG0DQdrv70sSaX2gUAh9r7nDO2P7RjwmELPBps_YkigDy_Eb19I_A6SWjRsDLY/s1600/driant-zeneli-all-art-has-been-contemporary.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 238px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5488966812610357010" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfggAYmTa7HaO_sk2GsBLEtDV98GY-RNaU-vqo2P9f8Tt_HYvzNNL1-dYz1BKkF9CyfUt5GrDOaLplhgG0DQdrv70sSaX2gUAh9r7nDO2P7RjwmELPBps_YkigDy_Eb19I_A6SWjRsDLY/s400/driant-zeneli-all-art-has-been-contemporary.jpg" /></a><br /><br />Maurizio Nannucci, All Art Has Been Contemporary, 1999<br />Driant Zeneli, All Art has been …temporary, 2009</div>CarolinaVKhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17089498169085782347noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7177139662831206373.post-16083031623534983972010-06-30T13:40:00.001-05:002010-07-24T12:38:53.359-05:00New Soul<object style="background-image: url("http://i1.ytimg.com/vi/XgEfYGzojcA/hqdefault.jpg");" height="344" width="425"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/XgEfYGzojcA&hl=en_US&fs=1"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/XgEfYGzojcA&hl=en_US&fs=1" allowscriptaccess="never" allowfullscreen="true" wmode="transparent" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" height="344" width="425"></embed></object>CarolinaVKhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17089498169085782347noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7177139662831206373.post-52887803335192659642010-06-28T20:41:00.002-05:002010-06-28T20:44:28.458-05:00Another WorldI’m gonna miss the birds<br />Singing all their songs<br /><br /><a href="http://aolradio.podcast.aol.com/aolmusic/mp3s/Antony_&_The_Johnsons_Another_World.mp3">Another World</a> - Antony and the Johnsons<br /><br />We're gonna miss you much.<br />Junio 22 de 2010CarolinaVKhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17089498169085782347noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7177139662831206373.post-76703080855827590562010-05-28T21:37:00.000-05:002010-05-28T21:38:05.034-05:00Puffin Books<span style="font-style: italic;">‘The worst has happened, but evacuated children are going to need books more than ever. Let us get out half a dozen as soon as we can.’</span><br /><br />So wrote Allen Lane, the founder of Penguin Books, to Noel Carrington, an editor and producer of books for Country Life, in 1939, shortly after war with Germany had been declared.CarolinaVKhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17089498169085782347noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7177139662831206373.post-66865282477006302010-05-05T07:52:00.001-05:002010-05-11T09:27:29.173-05:00Anyone's Ghost<object width="430" height="275" id="delve_playerf41db15d64b449eaa0064d5529d83f23334260o" classid="clsid:D27CDB6E-AE6D-11cf-96B8-444553540000"><param name="movie" value="http://assets.delvenetworks.com/player/loader.swf"><param name="wmode" value="window"><param name="allowScriptAccess" value="always"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="flashvars" value="mediaId=751e3a2b75754707925ea5f33879fd65&channelId=6d7d028115b1474b8f3202e5ef184771&playerForm=88a26316a62d4655a806dda0da4e95ca&autoplayNextClip=true"><embed src="http://assets.delvenetworks.com/player/loader.swf" name="delve_playerf41db15d64b449eaa0064d5529d83f23334260e" wmode="window" width="430" height="275" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" pluginspage="http://www.adobe.com/go/getflashplayer" flashvars="mediaId=751e3a2b75754707925ea5f33879fd65&channelId=6d7d028115b1474b8f3202e5ef184771&playerForm=88a26316a62d4655a806dda0da4e95ca&autoplayNextClip=true"></embed></object>CarolinaVKhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17089498169085782347noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7177139662831206373.post-37096255701912516302010-04-24T19:06:00.003-05:002010-05-11T09:28:39.098-05:00Sobre el editor por Ernst Rowohlt«Debes parecer al autor un joven lobo de la venta o un gentil mecenas; de cualquier forma no eres lo uno ni lo otro. (...) EI comercio de productos del espíritu será siempre un término medio entre tus gustos personales y lo que te apasiona, por una parte, y tu sentido de la oportunidad por otro. Cuando tengas veinte años de experiencia en este comercio que no es tal comercio, tú mismo serás incapaz de distinguir si es el sentido artístico o comercial el que te guía: te habrás convertido en un perfecto bastardo.»<br /><br />Y añade: «Editar un libro es una tarea casi más enloquecida que escribirlo.»CarolinaVKhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17089498169085782347noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7177139662831206373.post-23780475856835017472010-04-15T16:06:00.002-05:002010-04-15T16:08:05.495-05:00Perfect treat<div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiP3MaZyFiCgNfP7Xqe_qpuHO-fJ-yU-FWQxrsknh9sYPRtb2XOK8pPON7hirePIL6X7YeY0amt14qqOL73JadBCbonmQF44D-ZCPJbfFa0g1OAHu0wK_CeCY2dQDSHbFgz2EiL2RPdxV8/s1600/untitled.bmp"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 224px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5460473852294631554" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiP3MaZyFiCgNfP7Xqe_qpuHO-fJ-yU-FWQxrsknh9sYPRtb2XOK8pPON7hirePIL6X7YeY0amt14qqOL73JadBCbonmQF44D-ZCPJbfFa0g1OAHu0wK_CeCY2dQDSHbFgz2EiL2RPdxV8/s320/untitled.bmp" /></a> <span style="font-size:78%;">Copyright: Robert The<br /></span><br /></div>CarolinaVKhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17089498169085782347noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7177139662831206373.post-71030717918572649272010-03-08T09:48:00.005-05:002010-07-24T12:40:29.568-05:00Apple Bed<div>I wish I had</div>a horse's head<br /><div>a tiger's heart</div>an apple bed.<br /><div> </div><br /><br /><div>Sparklehorse (Mark Linkous 1962 - 2010)</div>CarolinaVKhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17089498169085782347noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7177139662831206373.post-36835619324229741522010-03-05T23:37:00.005-05:002010-03-06T00:13:11.618-05:00Not anymoreRemember that time when you told me about wolves?<br /><br />Yes.<br /><br />Remember how you told me you saw them everywhere? How they kept appearing out of the blue...<br /><br />Yes.<br /><br />Well I thought, as you did, they were meant for you. Because I thought the gypsy woman was talking to you, telling you to get out of this town. Because, as Denis, the man-turned-wolf, you don't quite understand how it is to come out of your cave and into the world. And because I like the moon and the idea of a lone wolf howling to the moon seemed perfect. Before.<br /><br />Before.<br /><br />But no. There's no more howling and the wolves keep coming, to me. There's one from a library book, and the one that's always been staring from my night table is still there. And others came from the mountain. And a guy I didn't like kept asking me questions about werewolves that I didn't want to answer, and I cried. You had to tell me about them just because I am supposed to see them, they are meant for me.<br /><br />No.<br /><br />Yes. But yesterday I saw the last one I want to see. In the park, before the crowd, a wolf was howling silently to a full moon made of a shining light, while a girl sang songs of longing and loss. And it was clear to me that wolves that were once yours, and now mine, are turning into demons, into ghosts that haunt my dreams.<br /><br />I don't want to haunt you.<br /><br />I know. That's why I'm not into wolves anymore.CarolinaVKhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17089498169085782347noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7177139662831206373.post-21140641079863507972010-02-14T14:20:00.002-05:002010-07-24T12:42:26.782-05:00Being Jack<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDk3ngqC6SBt1tMFCyRPNI6h4_CYRkCfh0ROhvT5KzfbvRliTWB6q4CpOIT6wP455um1uDrbezAhvpyCyNWMCahyaUNzhtfdSLdYVms1Kru-bjwvhNKIugXzVwg9rvVYlo5J8EtYWjhLs/s1600-h/hotel-chevalier_chocolate.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 190px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDk3ngqC6SBt1tMFCyRPNI6h4_CYRkCfh0ROhvT5KzfbvRliTWB6q4CpOIT6wP455um1uDrbezAhvpyCyNWMCahyaUNzhtfdSLdYVms1Kru-bjwvhNKIugXzVwg9rvVYlo5J8EtYWjhLs/s320/hotel-chevalier_chocolate.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5438181273745956322" border="0" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;">"Whatever happens in the end, I don't wanna lose you as my friend."<br /><br />"I promise, I will never be your friend. No matter what. Ever."<br /></div>CarolinaVKhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17089498169085782347noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7177139662831206373.post-42637795205147002922010-02-01T10:23:00.006-05:002010-02-01T18:55:02.501-05:00Wolf Moon<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQNdFQwzh7qsYlmdKwbRBA7vEFMBRj8VXAZKmaMPbF7ilsEjAJQIRpnIByGHZl6jA_5lw02F-Tm3onHtG-f0S6xWKlWn9Hwb46MZkQHCIUM9sOZPsX07UUyhZ-usOcJVsCoh2SfI2Ap1s/s1600-h/gview.png"><img style="margin: 0px 10px 10px 0px; width: 233px; float: left; height: 320px;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5433301087547234930" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQNdFQwzh7qsYlmdKwbRBA7vEFMBRj8VXAZKmaMPbF7ilsEjAJQIRpnIByGHZl6jA_5lw02F-Tm3onHtG-f0S6xWKlWn9Hwb46MZkQHCIUM9sOZPsX07UUyhZ-usOcJVsCoh2SfI2Ap1s/s320/gview.png" border="0" /></a><br /><div></div><div></div><div></div><div>The Wolf Moon is a full moon that occurs in January. Its name comes form hungry wolf packs that would howl outside the villages of Native Americans. This full moon is also known as Old Moon or the Moon After Yule.</div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div><span style="font-size:78%;"></span> </div><div><span style="font-size:78%;"></span> </div><div><span style="font-size:78%;"></span> </div><div><span style="font-size:78%;"></span> </div><div><span style="font-size:78%;">Ilustración de Juliana Swaney</span></div><div></div>CarolinaVKhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17089498169085782347noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7177139662831206373.post-73189712520379902382010-01-28T16:03:00.003-05:002010-01-28T16:14:05.952-05:00Salinger"We're freaks that's all. Those two bastards got us nice and early and made us into freaks with freakish standards, that's all. We're the tatooed lady, and we're never going to have a minute's peace, the rest of our lives, until everybody else is tatooed too."<br /><br /><em>Franny and Zooey,</em> J.D. Salinger (enero 1 de 1919 - enero 28 de 2010)CarolinaVKhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17089498169085782347noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7177139662831206373.post-43002747576135542612010-01-18T10:10:00.001-05:002010-01-18T19:39:58.324-05:00Mad Girl's Love Song<div> </div>"I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead;<br />I lift my lids and all is born again.<br />(I think I made you up inside my head.)<br /><br />The stars go waltzing out in blue and red,<br />And arbitrary blackness gallops in:<br />I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.<br /><br />I dreamed that you bewitched me into bed<br />And sung me moon-struck, kissed me quite insane.<br />(I think I made you up inside my head.)<br /><br />God topples from the sky, hell's fires fade:<br />Exit seraphim and Satan's men:<br />I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.<br /><br />I fancied you'd return the way you said,<br />But I grow old and I forget your name.<br />(I think I made you up inside my head.)<br /><br />I should have loved a thunderbird instead;<br />At least when spring comes they roar back again.<br />I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.<br />(I think I made you up inside my head.)"<br /><br />Sylvia PlathCarolinaVKhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17089498169085782347noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7177139662831206373.post-5608100775903084412010-01-17T13:45:00.002-05:002010-01-17T13:47:58.238-05:00The Beats<span style="font-style: italic;">Plonger au fond du gouffre</span><span style="font-style: italic;"><br />Enfer ou Ciel, qu'importe?</span><br /><br /><br />Claude de Maubris<br /><br /><i>Vanity of Duluoz: An Adventurous Education, 1935-46</i><br />Jack KerouacCarolinaVKhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17089498169085782347noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7177139662831206373.post-89857629503173016302010-01-08T09:44:00.007-05:002010-01-08T11:02:51.069-05:00MaudlinMain Entry: <strong>maud•lin</strong><br />Pronunciation: \ˈmȯd-lən\<br />Function: <em>adjective </em><br /><em></em><br />Etymology: alteration of Mary <em>Magdalene</em>; from her depiction as a weeping penitent<br />Date: 1509<br /><br /><strong>1 :</strong> drunk enough to be emotionally silly<br /><strong>2 :</strong> weakly and effusively <a href="http://www.fileden.com/files/2007/12/26/1663165/Camera%20Obscura%20-%20My%20Maudlin%20Career.mp3">sentimental</a>CarolinaVKhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17089498169085782347noreply@blogger.com0