los premios, más que reconocimientos, son lápidas

 - Pedro Lemebel
El verso es un camino que puede no tener ningún sentido pero que puede darle sentido a una vida. ¿Captas? Tal vez no lleve a ninguna parte pero es un modo de estar en el mundo.

- de El hada queer de los poemas de Luis Felipe Fabre
The disenfranchised, ostracized youth are an easy target for indoctrinators of all sorts. Their world-view becoming ever more schematic, they endorsed a West Vs Muslim grid that apparently made some of them incapable of recognizing that a newspaper such as Charlie Hebdo, who was standing with Palestine, for ethnic minorities, for equal rights and justice, was on their side – a precious ally: the sole fact that Charlie Hebdo had poked fun at their faith was enough to make them worthy of death.

- from a public letter by Oliver Tonneau

You have an identity to conspire against

"Pink" by Ronaldo Wilson from Center for Art and Thought on Vimeo.
Rather than posit that the Paris attacks are the moment of crisis in free speech—as so many commentators have done—it is necessary to understand that free speech and other expressions of liberté are already in crisis in Western societies; the crisis was not precipitated by three deranged gunmen. The U.S., for example, has consolidated its traditional monopoly on extreme violence, and, in the era of big data, has also hoarded information about its deployment of that violence. There are harsh consequences for those who interrogate this monopoly. The only person in prison for the C.I.A.’s abominable torture regime is John Kiriakou, the whistle-blower. Edward Snowden is a hunted man for divulging information about mass surveillance. Chelsea Manning is serving a thirty-five-year sentence for her role in WikiLeaks. They, too, are blasphemers, but they have not been universally valorized, as have the cartoonists of Charlie Hebdo.

- Teju Cole in the New Yorker essay titled "Unmournable Bodies"
I intend to use this as yet another example of how my attempts to learn from those who have been cognitively damaged by my own class and caste has taught me many things about myself and the world.

To surrender in translation is more erotic than ethical.


I came to think that it would be a practical help if one's relationship with the language being translated was such that sometimes one preferred to speak in it about intimate things.

- Gayatri Spivak

Su gemido y su quiebre, temporeros y su pantalones
Con olor a petróleo: imágenes consecutivas:
                                     La levedad          la duda              la duración.


Y si acaso te nombro, y caigo en el charco con la vena abierta, di que es

belleza lo que a otros ahuyenta.


¿No lo entiendes tú? No jodas, bonito, y lee.


Imaginémonos flores.
                                             Imaginémonos flores

- Citas de La pobre prosa humana de Pedro Montealegre (1975-2015)
The truth is I have no revelations to offer...drinking in poetry. 

The Internet amazes again.

I have only my perplexities to offer you...I can only offer you doubts...They were writing about poetry like a task, no like a passion or a joy...Books are only occasions for poetry... A book is a physical object in a world of physical objects... a set of dead symbols...Poetry is a new experience every time...Art happens every time we read a poem...Perhaps I can give a brief survey of the history of books...I am proud to be a good disciple, I hope...Many people mistook the buying of a book for the buying of the contents of the book...I think, what a pity I can't buy that book because I already have another copy at home...I am very fond of etymologies...

- Snippets from recordings of Jorge Luis Borges talking at Harvard in the 60s.

El tipo me dice que Allende iba demasiado rápido. Que el país no estaba listo para tanto cambio (a pesar de haberlo elegido democráticamente, supongo). Y que por eso Pinochet. Que se explica así. Que él viene de campo, de una familia de derecha, que él sí los entiende, que algo se tenía que hacer frente a lo que hacía Allende, solo que al final dice, la cura fue peor que la enfermedad.

Dice que nunca ha ido al Museo de la Memoria y de Derechos Humanos aunque sea cerca y gratuita. Piensa que sería demasiado triste.
I was in the desert. It seemed like New Mexico. A river nearby, trees with scraggly, gnarled trunks and thin, tiny leaves that gave no shade. I was driving through the desert on a long road trip. It felt like I was driving from Houston to California. I pulled over and parked the car in a kind of state park, but right at the entrance by a wooden sign. I went to eat some food, and then walked back. I stopped under a tree and it started raining and on the other side of the river or creek, there were little houses and kids running in and out, the doorways blocked by sheets or not blocked at all. People were staring at me, but not in an aggressive way, just out of curiosity. I headed back to my car and as I got closer saw that all my bags were half in the car and half out. I ran to the back and saw my backpack and my suitcase open and ruffled through. I must have left the doors unlocked. I opened my wallet and all the cards, everything was missing. And as I got in the car I saw I had a ticket for $100. It said $100 in big letters with lots of check marks. I got in the car, jumped on the freeway and frantically called the card company but I couldn't remember the bank number. I remembered an old bank 800 number from the 90s and called it, but the man on the other end only handled bank business in the Phillippines so since I dont live in the Phillippines, he couldn't help me. I was trying to copy down the number for my bank, but I couldn't hear him well and I kept forgetting what I was trying to write down when I opened my eyes and realized—very thankfully—that I wasn't in fact robbed and I didn't have to pay a parking ticket or deal with the chaos of a stolen wallet.
In Houston, 18 - 34 year olds are only 32% white, non-Hispanic.


And income for this age group has plummeted by about $10,000 since 1980.


More info here.