February 2012
4 posts
3 tags
David Foster Wallace on Kafka
What Kafka’s stories have, rather, is a grotesque and gorgeous and thoroughly modern complexity. Kafka’s humor not only not neurotic but anti-neurotic, heroically sane — is, finally, a religious humor, but religious in the manner of Kierkegaard and Rilke and the Psalms, a harrowing spirituality against which even Ms. O’Connor’s bloody grace seems a little bit easy,...
This fucking paper has made me reconsider my life way too many times and I’m not even close to finishing it. I feel like I’m going to get a worse grade on my rewrite than on the first version I turned in (a 70 btw). At this point though I don’t give a fuck. I just never want to hear about Bolivar, ever again, even though I do because I love Latin American history. I’m tired...
3 tags
2 tags
Quand j’avais 14 ans je suis allé a mon première concert musicale avec ma meilleure amie Karina. Nous sommes allés à regarder un groupe appelait « The Sounds ». C’était une nuit géniale et nous nous sommes bien amusés dans le concert.
La nuit antérieure je suis resté debout tout la nuit pour écouter toutes les chansons que j’écouterai en direct le jour suivant. Le jour du concert, je ne...
January 2012
1 post
3 tags
December 2011
9 posts
1 tag
Para leer en forma interrogativa
Has visto
verdaderamente has visto
la nieve los astros los pasos afelpados de la brisa
Has tocado
de verdad has tocado
el plato el plan la cara de esa mujer que tanto amás
Has vivido
como un golpe en la frente
el instante el jadeo la caída la fuga
Has sabido
con cada poro de la piel sabido
que tus ojos tus manos tu sexo tu blando corazón
había que tirarlos
había que llorarlos
había...
1 tag
3 tags
“Yo le sugerí que le pusiera Los bastardos de Sor Juana, que suena más mexicano, pero nuestro carnal se muere por las historias de los gringos.”
1 tag
Here’s all I have to show for 5 hours of work. I suck at French.
« …Est-ce que tu souviens cette photo que tu m’as donné quand tu m’as commencé à voir ? Je ne sais pas combien de fois j’ai regardé cette photo. Sur cette photo je te trouve très belle, très étrange. Je voulais découvrir l’histoire secrète écrite sur ton visage. Je suis tombé en amour de l’arc parfait de tes...
This assignment is really frustrating me. I don’t know how to write short stories much less one in French. I can’t skip this assignment because I’m already doing pretty bad in the class so I’m going to have to turn in really bad quality work. I hate, hate, hate whenever this happens to me. I know I can theoretically do better, but when I actually try to all that comes out is shit.
1 tag
I have a problem with the idea of “the power of the situation”. I know I’ve been shown multiple examples arguing for it’s prevalence but I still can’t help but feel that it’s only a way for us to excuse undesired behavior. I believe that being influenced by a situation is more directly caused by a lack of reasonable engagement with the possible choices you can...
1 tag
It’d be super cool to make a little book based on all my Latino Identity writings and try to expand each of them a little bit. That might be a potential project over winter break. However, I really want to start catching up on all the literature I haven’t read. I’m planning to do a Latin American Literature major, but I haven’t even read many of the classics. So far, I...
2 tags
November 2011
2 posts
Today’s Psychology class inspired me to write controversial semi-academic books on subjects I don’t care about. I don’t know how this came about since we talked about the Milgram study. The one where the participants shocked the shit out of people just because they were ordered to.
Anyways, the first of a series is going to be called:
What your kid does when he gets high.
...
October 2011
8 posts
2 tags
“Qué naturales son los peces!
Nunca parecen inoportunos.
Están en el mar...”
– Pablo Neruda
2 tags
“Students of magic realism in graduate school today need only to live in a small...”
– Luis Alberto Urrea
3 tags
Junot Díaz reads his short story “How to Date a... →
“Had a date with assimilation but I stood her ass up, and made love to the...”
– Denizen Kane
1 tag
Poem for the young white man who asked how i, an...
In my land there are no distinctions.
The barbed wire politics of oppression
have been torn down long ago. The only reminder
of past battles, lost or won, is a slight
rutting in the fertile fields.
In my land
people write poems about love,
full of nothing but contented childlike syllables.
Everyone reads Russian short stories and weeps.
There are no boundaries.
There is no hunger,...
September 2011
4 posts
1 tag
Wondering fingers move through strands of hair, each one longing to be touched. The most impatient ones come right off and stick to your hands for just a second. Later they fly off. One falls right into your lower lip. You stick back your tongue and blow, ever so slightly, with a smile. The ones that fall unto your body stick there for just a little longer. Taking delight in the softness of their...
Hay una cicatriz entre mis dedos. Toma la forma de colmillos de madera. Se desase en la mañana y renace durante el dia.
Crecí en un rancho pequeñito en la oscuridad de una casa construida por mi bisabuelo Delfino Guerrero. Entre las arañas y los alacranes, yo jugaba entre la tierra. Tenia un levanta piedras azul transparente. Solamente en los dias mas calientes me podia matar algunas lagartijas....
I want to be a feral cat,
uncultivated plant.
I’ll peer from little crevices,
and bloom my thorns and roses
at the first sight of the moon.