“I’m always thinking about creating.
My future starts when I wake up every morning…
Every day I find something creative to do with my life.”
Miles Davis (May 26, 1926 – September 28, 1991)
“When we quit thinking primarily about ourselves and our own self-preservation,
we undergo a truly heroic transformation of consciousness.”
Without asking where is his destiny, the hero builds it, fight for it and defends it.
He knows his destiny, and as he advances, he is just freeing the way
Violence. Shortages. Anxiety. Traffic. Chaos. Tension. Insecurity. Closure. Disappointment. Kidnapping. Debacle. Consequences. Anarchy. Abuse. Misrule. Power. Exclusion. Wrath. Inequity. Tears. Strike. Frustration.
Some time ago we lost our homeland, today it lies kidnapped.
Once we step forward in unison, we will begin to build it again.
Gold, oil, human capital, labor and culture. Everything vanishes. Everything slides through the hands of the givers, splattering his remains to those who lie expats. A country rose and went flying to every corner of the world. Venezuela is not what they are robbing us, they are stealing us time, time to begin to rebuild it. On occasions I raise my head and look beyond El Avila, hoping that the idea, the hope of a new country, comes back at any time. The idea is dispelled by the struggle between men, because the struggle between men is uneven in nature and has no end. Time is endurance but not submission. Gold, oil, labor, culture and human capital fades day after day with hammer and chisel. The ideas descend gradually to lie on the mountains, the rivers and flood our ravines. We must be the ones who flood the streets and tie the hands of those who call themselves givers. Without gold, oil, education or job, El Avila continue to be expectant and he will watch arise a country that never existed. He’s giving us time. But even time runs out.
“God gives hope to the weak, so that he take the risk to be strong.”
Dedicated to G. M. and my expatriated siblings.
It should not be called patria or nation where people live in fear.
It should not be called patria or nation where life became upheaval.
It should not be called patria or nation where people live under a bifid, disoriented and completely pulverized precept.
We live in an increasingly vicious reality where is no order; there is no real government nor regime of any kind.
Those who stayed here; those who are not plondering the country… We are exptriated already.
Expatriate: transitive verb. 1: banish, exile 2: to withdraw (oneself) from residence in or allegiance to one’s native country
Allegiance: the obligation of a feudal vassal to his liege lord b (1): the fidelity owed by a subject or citizen to a sovereign or government. (2): the obligation of an alien to the government under which the alien resides
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I did not hear anything. I saw drop after drop hit her hand soundlessly.
She closed her eyers and sharpened her senses. In the distance sensed something.
Other drops fell on her. She opened her eyes and was surprised to see that she became liquid.
Her transparent hands waited in silence. She closed her eyes.
An instrument sounded and she forgot it immediately. Saw her body and remembered flesh and bones.
The water ran over her. On her skin, veins, on her ears, on her being. She closed her eyes one last time.
She felt shine. The sun was born.
Then she heard silence.
And she began to drip.
The devil, with his dead dance, is moving slowly. He is collecting petitions and strength to continue his way. He is taking leaders, beggars, minions, cretins, communicants and donors. We are watching him going somewhere. He is asking and we give.
Over time, Mandinga becomes sad. He wants to share light over the creation of others. He wants to give light to be shared and not to raise egos. But Lucifer, as any other angel, can’t do anything else, he is just looking to survive in exile. Meanwhile, we are giving ourselves to the wrong cause awkwardly. It is our nature, to dance slowly a dead dance as we act as demons and angels. Trying to shine over individuals and leaving our world aside.
Today coexist thousand of angels, religions, gods, men and worlds, all of them summarized in one that doesn’t exist, one that endures, and summarized in me, matter of time and oblivion.
Crime & Punishment
“…He had not far to go; he knew indeed how many steps it was from the gate of his lodging house: exactly seven hundred and thirty. He had counted them once when he had been lost in dreams. At the time he had put no faith in those dreams and was only tantalising himself by their hideous but daring recklessness. “
730 is part of La Uña, el Martillo y los Pensamientos Imposibles
October 6, 2011
Centro cultural BOD-Corp Banca
Piano: Gerry Weil y Xavier Losada
Production: Proyecta Comunicación
Recording Engineer: Marcel Fernández
Video: Raúl Colmenares
Audio engineer: Eder Soto
Stage Manager: Tyrone Vera
Stage Lighting: Tirso Machado
Scenery: Soluciones Arquimad
Преступление и наказание
“…Идти ему было немного; он даже знал,
сколько шагов от ворот его
дома: ровно семьсот тридцать.
Как-то раз он их сосчитал, когда
уж очень размечтался.
В то время он и сам еще не верил этим мечтам
своим и только раздражал себя их безобразною,
но соблазнительною дерзостью.”