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Happy together (Sept. 8, 2001)

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Jeremy's journal

Slugs leave trails, sheep leave droppings, bees make honey, and humans leave two things: art and garbage. Where these meet is called entertainment.

Robyn Hitchcock


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Wednesday, January 25th, 2012

🦋 El Círculo Croata de Venezuela

El último cuento de la colección nueva de Zupcic, Médicos taxistas, se dramáticamente diferencia del resto -- todos los son muy elegantes y lúcidos pero no (a excepción tal vez del hermoso "Tescucho, Italia") me inquietante cogen como los padre-ausente-y-criminal cuentos de sus colecciones jóvenes. Éso sí y hace una conexión bonita a los cuentos anteriores. (Los nuevos son indudablemente más fácil traducir, no estoy seguro de cómo esto interpretar.)

Cada uno de los cuentos en Médicos taxistas es a su manera excéntrico, es difícil clasificarlos juntos. El cuento titular me encuenta y en segunda lectura me deja pensando que es otra cosa detrás de la historia pero no puedo ver qué es. "El Barbero de Dalí" me ha riendo y rascándome la cabeza. "Doble Chávez" me da un sentido no del todo bienvenido de la identificación. Una lectura muy divertida.

"Amor que a otro puerto pertenece," el último cuento y el más largo, reexamina a otra manera la tema de Zlatica Didic y su hijo Zlatko Didic que Zupcic (Slavko el hijo de Slavko Zupcic) visitó por primera vez en su "Cartas hacia una novela". Zlatko comienca aquí, "Comencé a escribir este relato hace casi veinte años..." y de repente tengo una imagen más claro y más estimulante del (sin duda pequeño) cuerpo de su obra. Todo se junta.

posted evening of January 25th, 2012: Respond
➳ More posts about Slavko Zupcic

🦋 Conrad and the 20th Century

Juan Gabriel Vásquez took part in a live chat at the Guardian's Books section today -- here is what he has been thinking about recently:

For three whole days I have been thinking about Conrad's novels. Three in particular: Heart of Darkness, Nostromo, and The Secret Agent. I wrote a small text trying to suggest how amazing it was that those three novels, published between 1899 and 1907, anticipate every major issue the world had to deal with during the â…©â…© century.

Oh and also: " I have a tendency to trust translators, mainly because nobody does it for the money."

posted evening of January 25th, 2012: Respond
➳ More posts about Juan Gabriel Vásquez

Tuesday, January 24th, 2012

🦋 Newt

A fine commentary on this year's presidential contest, from 30 years ago:

posted morning of January 24th, 2012: Respond
➳ More posts about Comix

Sunday, January 22nd, 2012

🦋 Pounding out chords of a fearful symmetry*

Watching The Artist with Ellen and Sylvia last night I was reminded of what a powerful instrument a movie soundtrack is. What a beautful movie! I recommend it for the acting (including Uggie the dog, who is replacing Asta in my affections), for the direction, for the dancing, but maybe most of all for the soundtrack. (I loved that when the movies started featuring sound, the soundtrack featured Pennies from Heaven, as sung by Rose Murphy.) At points the movie was best understood as a soundtrack delivery vehicle.

Update: ...And apparently the soundtrack generated a little controversy of its own...

* (cf. Orhan Pamuk, The Black Book.)

posted afternoon of January 22nd, 2012: Respond
➳ More posts about movie soundtracks

🦋 I talk to the trees, but they don't listen to me...

But, but, so, what if they could listen, could talk back? Bartholo­mäus Traubeck of Linz has created an experiment treating a tree's rings as the groove of a record. You can read about it and listen to the music he played at TNW. (Thanks for the link, Knight!)

posted morning of January 22nd, 2012: Respond
➳ More posts about Music

Friday, January 20th, 2012

🦋 The bottom strings

I was once again unable to resist cutting up my fiddle, though I think with potentially better results (cf.) this time. I bought a new C string -- a Super Sensitive Red Label from Musician's Friend -- and found it a huge improvement on the string that had come with the instrument. Suddenly I wanted to play on the bottom strings which made me notice a problem with the bridge; namely, when I cut grooves for the strings I did not make enough space to accomodate the width of the C string. So I cut a little more away and have been playing almost exclusively for the past couple of practice sessions on the bottom 3 strings. See whatcha think of this recording I made of "Walkin After Midnight" : After Midnight by The Modesto Kid

posted evening of January 20th, 2012: Respond
➳ More posts about Fiddling

Thursday, January 19th, 2012

🦋 Hurrying back

Dora was hurrying now and wanting her lunch. She looked at her watch and found it was tea-time. She remembered that she had been wondering what to do; but now, without her thinking about it, it had become obvious. She must go back to Imber at once. Her real life, her real problems, were at Imber, and since, somewhere, something good existed, it might be that her problems would be solved after all. There was a connexion; obscurely she felt, without yet understanding it, she must hang onto that idea: there was a connexion. She bought a sandwich and took a taxi back to Paddington.
Reading Murdoch's The Bell lately, I have been conflicted as to how I feel about the characters. I identify with them at points; but they have an air of falseness around them, the characters and plot elements seem almost like scenery for Murdoch's philosophizing and fable-telling. Not sure I mean this as a point against the book -- I am liking the book a lot -- but it does seem like an important stylistic element.

Then again I got a similar vibe from The Little Stranger, which was pretty clearly not written for philosophical argument.

posted evening of January 19th, 2012: Respond
➳ More posts about Iris Murdoch

🦋 Bridge Building

My 5th- and 6th-grade teacher (Jeanne Pollard, of Fremont Open Plan in Modesto) posted a photo of me with my bridge building team.

(I'm the one with the black hair.)

posted morning of January 19th, 2012: Respond
➳ More posts about the Family Album

Monday, January 16th, 2012

🦋 Let's Listen to

the Grateful Dead:

franklins tower 3-22-93

You're welcome (and thanks for the link, Jimmy!)

posted evening of January 16th, 2012: 1 response

Sunday, January 15th, 2012

🦋 Tescucho, Italy

I rode my bike down Muntaner to Diagonal. Parked it in front of the Dau al set gallery and rang Valerie's doorbell.

—When you come to the door, so you won't have to tell me who it is, ring three times in a row: ta, ta, ta. That way I'll know it's you. —that's what she had told me, the first day.

The door opened and I went upstairs. Valerie went over to the sofa with me as soon as I came in, she was moving her hands slowly in front of me, telling me her mother had been in the hospital since that afternoon, she feared the worst, that she had only come away from there to meet me, so that I would not come to an empty apartment and be scared.

She gave me a kiss on the cheek, paid me, and we left the apartment. Of course I didn't tell her any of what I'd been thinking about. I wasn't going to be seeing her anymore, surely; but I had left the mobile -- the lizards, the Gaudi mobile, on her sofa.

I have made a couple of revisions and have submitted the story to Words Without Borders. The biographical note I submitted:

Jeremy Osner is a computer programmer living in New Jersey. He came to Spanish translation late in life and has been learning the language as he learns the voices of the authors he has translated. Notable among these is Venezuelan Slavko Zupcic, a psychiatrist now living in Valencia, Spain, whose stories examine the gaps in understanding at the borders between people.

This story is from Mr. Zupcic's recently published collection, Médicos Taxistas.

posted evening of January 15th, 2012: Respond
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