"El que lee mucho y anda mucho, ve mucho y sabe mucho."

jueves, 18 de septiembre de 2008

America [Allen Ginsberg]


America I've given you all and now I'm nothing.
America two dollars and twentyseven cents January
17, 1956.
I can't stand my own mind.
America when will we end the human war?
Go fuck yourself with your atom bomb.
I don't feel good don't bother me.
I won't write my poem till I'm in my right mind.
America when will you be angelic?
When will you take off your clothes?
When will you look at yourself through the grave?
When will you be worthy of your million Trotskyites?
America why are your libraries full of tears?
America when will you send your eggs to India?
I'm sick of your insane demands.
When can I go into the supermarket and buy what I
need with my good looks?
America after all it is you and I who are perfect not
the next world.
Your machinery is too much for me.
You made me want to be a saint.
There must be some other way to settle this argument.
Burroughs is in Tangiers I don't think he'll come back
it's sinister.
Are you being sinister or is this some form of practical
joke?
I'm trying to come to the point.
I refuse to give up my obsession.
America stop pushing I know what I'm doing.
America the plum blossoms are falling.
I haven't read the newspapers for months, everyday
somebody goes on trial for murder.
America I feel sentimental about the Wobblies.
America I used to be a communist when I was a kid
I'm not sorry.
I smoke marijuana every chance I get.
I sit in my house for days on end and stare at the roses
in the closet.
When I go to Chinatown I get drunk and never get laid.
My mind is made up there's going to be trouble.
You should have seen me reading Marx.
My psychoanalyst thinks I'm perfectly right.
I won't say the Lord's Prayer.
I have mystical visions and cosmic vibrations.
America I still haven't told you what you did to Uncle
Max after he came over from Russia.

I'm addressing you.
Are you going to let your emotional life be run by
Time Magazine?
I'm obsessed by Time Magazine.
I read it every week.
Its cover stares at me every time I slink past the corner
candystore.
I read it in the basement of the Berkeley Public Library.
It's always telling me about responsibility. Business-
men are serious. Movie producers are serious.
Everybody's serious but me.
It occurs to me that I am America.
I am talking to myself again.
Asia is rising against me.
I haven't got a chinaman's chance.
I'd better consider my national resources.
My national resources consist of two joints of
marijuana millions of genitals an unpublishable
private literature that goes 1400 miles an hour
and twenty-five-thousand mental institutions.
I say nothing about my prisons nor the millions of
underprivileged who live in my flowerpots
under the light of five hundred suns.
I have abolished the whorehouses of France, Tangiers
is the next to go.
My ambition is to be President despite the fact that
I'm a Catholic.
America how can I write a holy litany in your silly
mood?
I will continue like Henry Ford my strophes are as
individual as his automobiles more so they're
all different sexes.
America I will sell you strophes $2500 apiece $500
down on your old strophe
America free Tom Mooney
America save the Spanish Loyalists
America Sacco & Vanzetti must not die
America I am the Scottsboro boys.
America when I was seven momma took me to Com-
munist Cell meetings they sold us garbanzos a
handful per ticket a ticket costs a nickel and the
speeches were free everybody was angelic and
sentimental about the workers it was all so sin-
cere you have no idea what a good thing the
party was in 1835 Scott Nearing was a grand
old man a real mensch Mother Bloor made me
cry I once saw Israel Amter plain. Everybody
must have been a spy.
America you don't really want to go to war.
America it's them bad Russians.
Them Russians them Russians and them Chinamen.
And them Russians.
The Russia wants to eat us alive. The Russia's power
mad. She wants to take our cars from out our
garages.
Her wants to grab Chicago. Her needs a Red Readers'
Digest. Her wants our auto plants in Siberia.
Him big bureaucracy running our fillingsta-
tions.
That no good. Ugh. Him make Indians learn read.
Him need big black niggers. Hah. Her make us
all work sixteen hours a day. Help.
America this is quite serious.
America this is the impression I get from looking in
the television set.
America is this correct?
I'd better get right down to the job.
It's true I don't want to join the Army or turn lathes
in precision parts factories, I'm nearsighted and
psychopathic anyway.
America I'm putting my queer shoulder to the wheel.

- Berkeley, January 17, 1956

miércoles, 10 de septiembre de 2008

martes, 9 de septiembre de 2008

lunes, 8 de septiembre de 2008

martes, 2 de septiembre de 2008


The secret of life is not to do what one likes, but to try to like what one has to do.

Mood Board

Pablo Neruda Sofia Coppola Françoise Hardy Edie Sedgwick José Lezama Lima Julio Cortázar Audrey Hepburn Bob Dylan Brigitte Bardot Francisco de Goya Roberto Bolaño William Blake Ernest Hemingway Joan Baez Terunobu Fujimori Allen Ginsberg Françoise Truffaut Gonzalo Rojas James Abbott McNeill Whistler Luis Barragán Marianne Moore Nicanor Parra Pablo Picasso Anna Karina Arthur Rimbaud Balzac Bernardo Bertolucci Billy Wilder Catherine Deneuve Edgar Allan Poe Eric Rohmer Ernesto Cardenal Franz Kafka Gary Cooper George Borrow J.M.W. Turner Jean Fragonard Jean Luc Godard Jean Seberg Jorge Guillén Kate Moss Lord Byron Mario Benedetti Patrick Vale Patti Smith Pieter Bruegel Sam Haskins Stanley Kubrick Susan Sontag Terrence Malick Van Gogh Walt Whitman Wim Wenders Woody Allen Albert Camus Alberto Durero Alfonso Camín Anaïs Nin Andy Warhol Anne Bradstreet Annie Leibovitz Anthony Minghella Anton Corbijn Astrid Kirchherr Beethoven Benjamin Franklin Bigas Luna Carmen Laforet Cary Fukunaga Caspar David Friederich Charles Baudelaire Charles Bukowski Charlotte Rampling Che Guevara Claes Oldenburg Claude Monet Clémance Poésy Coco Chanel D. H. Lawrence Darren Aronofsky Edward Hopper Elia Kazan Enrique Rojas Ezra Pound F.S. Flint Federico Fellini Florence + The Machine Foo Fighters Francisco de Quevedo Frank Gehry Friederich Schiller Garry Winogrand Giovanni Battista Piranesi Helmut Newton Hunter S Thompson Inez vam Lamsweerde and Vinoodh Matadin Jack Kerouac James Blake Jane Austen Jane Birkin Jean Baudrillard Jean Paul Belmondo Jean Paul Sartre Jeremy Kapone Jimmy Hendrix Jonathan Dayton Jorge Luis Borges Joseph Szabo Juan Marsé Katherine Ross Keith Richards Kurt Cobain Langston Hughes Lauren Bacall Leopoldo María Panero Luís Buñuel Marc Webb Marcello Mastroianni Mario Monicelli Mario Testino Mat Kazman Mia Wasikowska Michael Jackson Michelangelo Antonioni Mick Jagger Nicole Krauss Nietzsche Onetti Oscar Niemeyer Peter Eisenmann Philippe Starck Pink Floyd Quentin Tarantino Rem Koolhaas Roald Dahl Robert Delaunay Roger Vadim Roman Polanski Rubén Darío Salvador Dalí Simone de Bouvoir Terje Rypdal Terry Rodgers Victor Hugo Víctor Erice William Wyler