Vivir

¿No es la vida cien veces demasiado breve para aburrirnos?, se pregunta Nietzsche
Lo menos frecuente en este mundo es vivir. La mayoría de la gente existe, eso es todo, le responde Wilde.

Wear sunscreen

vengo de ver apenas la escena del final de una peli con Dany de Vito y Kevin Spacey, que termina con un texto de Mary Schmich leído en off
conocido y genial
me quedé con ganas de ver la película entera, debe estar buena
pero el texto... el texto es una joyita

If I could offer you only one tip for the future, sunscreen would be it.
The long-term benefits of sunscreen have been proved by scientists, whereas the rest of my advice has no basis more reliable than my own meandering experience.
I will dispense this advice now.

Enjoy the power and beauty of your youth.
Oh, never mind.
You will not understand the power and beauty of your youth until they've faded.
But trust me, in 20 years, you'll look back at photos of yourself and recall in a way you can't grasp now how much possibility lay before you and how fabulous you really looked.
You are not as fat as you imagine.

Don't worry about the future.
Or worry, but know that worrying is as effective as trying to solve an algebra equation by chewing bubble gum.
The real troubles in your life are apt to be things that never crossed your worried mind.
The kind that blindside you at 4 p.m. on some idle Tuesday.

Do one thing every day that scares you.

Sing.

Don't be reckless with other people's hearts.
Don't put up with people who are reckless with yours.

Floss.

Don't waste your time on jealousy.
Sometimes you're ahead, sometimes you're behind.
The race is long and, in the end, it's only with yourself.

Remember compliments you receive.
Forget the insults.
If you succeed in doing this, tell me how.

Keep your old love letters.
Throw away your old bank statements.

Stretch.

Don't feel guilty if you don't know what you want to do with your life.
The most interesting people I know didn't know at 22 what they wanted to do with their lives.
Some of the most interesting 40-year-olds I know still don't.

Get plenty of calcium.
Be kind to your knees.
You'll miss them when they're gone.

Maybe you'll marry, maybe you won't.
Maybe you'll have children, maybe you won't.
Maybe you'll divorce at 40, maybe you'll dance the funky chicken on your 75th wedding anniversary.
Whatever you do, don't congratulate yourself too much, or berate yourself either.
Your choices are half chance.
So are everybody else's.

Enjoy your body.
Use it every way you can.
Don't be afraid of it or of what other people think of it.
It's the greatest instrument you'll ever own.

Dance, even if you have nowhere to do it but your living room.

Read the directions, even if you don't follow them.

Do not read beauty magazines.
They will only make you feel ugly.

Get to know your parents.
You never know when they'll be gone for good.
Be nice to your siblings.
They're your best link to your past and the people most likely to stick with you in the future.

Understand that friends come and go, but with a precious few you should hold on.
Work hard to bridge the gaps in geography and lifestyle, because the older you get, the more you need the people who knew you when you were young.

Live in New York City once, but leave before it makes you hard.
Live in Northern California once, but leave before it makes you soft.
Travel.

Accept certain inalienable truths:
Prices will rise.
Politicians will philander.
You, too, will get old.
And when you do, you'll fantasize that when you were young, prices were reasonable, politicians were noble and children respected their elders.

Respect your elders.

Don't expect anyone else to support you.
Maybe you have a trust fund.
Maybe you'll have a wealthy spouse.
But you never know when either one might run out.

Don't mess too much with your hair or by the time you're 40 it will look 85.

Be careful whose advice you buy, but be patient with those who supply it.
Advice is a form of nostalgia.
Dispensing it is a way of fishing the past from the disposal, wiping it off, painting over the ugly parts and recycling it for more than it's worth.

But trust me on the sunscreen.

de yapa, el cuento de cómo Kurt Vonnegut tuvo que salir a aclarar que el texto no era suyo

Reparaciones 'Don Carlitos'

tengo un vicio secreto...

bueno, tengo varios vicios secretos...

pero con este vicio secreto comencé el año...

bueno, con varios de mis vicios secretos comencé el año...

pero a este lo fotografié.

soy fan de las revistas barriales con publicidad.
las reviso, leo todos los avisos, intento memorizar negocios, esquinas y ofertas.
las guardo a modo de agenda local para nunca recurrir a ellas en momentos de necesidad o urgencia.
me encantan.

hate and love, what will ruin us?

Contrary to common belief even among the educated, Huxley and Orwell did not prophesy the same thing. Orwell warns that we will be overcome by an externally imposed oppression. But in Huxley's vision, no Big Brother is required to deprive people of their autonomy, maturity and history. As he saw it, people will come to love their oppression, to adore the technologies that undo their capacities to think.

What Orwell feared were those who would ban books. What Huxley feared was that there would be no reason to ban a book, for there would be no one who wanted to read one. Orwell feared those who would deprive us of information. Huxley feared those who would give us so much that we would be reduced to passivity and egoism. Orwell feared that the truth would be concealed from us. Huxley feared the truth would be drowned in a sea of irrelevance. Orwell feared we would become a captive culture. Huxley feared we would become a trivial culture, preoccupied with some equivalent of the feelies, the orgy porgy, and the centrifugal bumblepuppy. As Huxley remarked in Brave New World Revisited, the civil libertarians and rationalists who are ever on the alert to oppose tyranny "failed to take into account man's almost infinite appetite for distractions". In 1984, Huxley added, people are controlled by inflicting pain. In Brave New World, they are controlled by inflicting pleasure. In short, Orwell feared that what we hate will ruin us. Huxley feared that what we love will ruin us.

texto visto en Rabino blog

Imágenes aquí y aquí

la muerte no nos hace buenos...

Hace poco te hizo una entrevista Luis Majul y en una nota comentaban que a cada rato te decía “perdoname pero, si me permitís, te voy a preguntar...” o “por favor, decime si me equivoco”... como si tuviera miedo de que te fueras del programa.

–La única vez que me fui de un programa fue porque me echaron. Guinzburg. Yo me estaba sintiendo mal porque él se estaba poniendo como muy agresivo. “¿Cuánto cobrás? ¿Podés vivir de la música?” Como si yo le fuera a preguntar a él cuánto ganaba. Y cuando vino el corte me preguntó si me pensaba quedar en el programa “porque acá la gente se queda hasta el final”, dijo. Era raro. Después vino un chico a sacarme el corbatero. “No –-le dije–, mirá que tengo que volver al piso.” En eso vi que en la cabina estaba el mismo director de mi programa “¡Qué hashééés Massshhhitelli! ¿Cómo andás?”. Y me miró raro. Entonces volvió a aparecer alguien que me pidió el micrófono: “Yo tengo orden de producción de que me lo des”. Guinzburg se había ido a su camarín y había hecho un escándalo. Después anunciaron al aire que yo me había ido. Y sí, me fui y a las puteadas pero porque me habían echado.

Juana Molina en Radar