Two days ago, this Brazlinian workmate invited me in the restaurant to sit and eat with her an her friend. Their table was too small for the three of us, so they offered to move to a bigger table (Brazilian hospitality, you know)
As we ate and talked, I couldn't help telling her that I once lived a year with a Brazilian, my beloved and now far away Bernardo. She asked where Bernardo was from in Brazil, and when I replied "Belo Horizonte", she sighed "oh, Belo Horizonte". I don't really know what that "oh, Belo Horizonte" was supposed to mean, but I tell you it really fitted the conversation. I think it fitted more than any careful description of the beautiful sights in the city.
Now this Bernardo doesn't read my blog anymore. He prefers gay literature. I hate him. I hate him so very very much.
Isn't this blog gay enough for you, Bernardo ????!!!!????
sábado, 7 de febrero de 2004
viernes, 6 de febrero de 2004
Train blog
If I had time and the right skills, I would start a blog where everyday I would write about a person that got my attention in the train, on my way to work. "In" the train, "on" my way. Funny language English is, I must say. (E)specially when it's not your mother tongue.
New design
Well, I'm trying out a new design. I just wanted to play a little bit with stylesheets. Also, and to be honest, niopo provided the template on which the new design is based.
Tubes and faces and places and seats
Everyday, monday to friday, I spend two hours in the tube/train/subway/whatever. 50 mins to go forth, and 70 to go back (don't know why, but it always takes longer to get back)
Once a professor told me that watching people in the tube is one of the greatest spectacles in london. At the beggining, I took it as a big revelation: he opened my bored eyes to tube life, and closed them to the tabloids that hang around for anybody to take them in the train seats in London. Suddenly, I learnt to admire people's slightest details, gestures, like in a nineteenth century novel.
After some time, I went back to Barcelona, where I live and work and play pool now. Little by little, I abandoned this english tradition (because I practiced it in England) of staring at people in the train. It was little by little, because during the first month I went to work, I would carefully look at these south american women in the train, all these unexpressive faces of women that get off the train at Sarria, a posh neighborhood in Barcelona. These women, I imagine, are making their way to clean the houses and the toilets of the houses of rich citizens.
Now I don't really look at them anymore, but I try to stand by them if they have a seat. It's a safe bet: I know they'll get off at Sarria, and so if I stand by one of them I'll be able to get her seat first, and read my newspaper comfortably until my turn comes to get off. Then, a young and sleepy (perhaps even beautiful) student will take my seat. I wonder if they also look at me, or they just stand by me to take the seat.
Once a professor told me that watching people in the tube is one of the greatest spectacles in london. At the beggining, I took it as a big revelation: he opened my bored eyes to tube life, and closed them to the tabloids that hang around for anybody to take them in the train seats in London. Suddenly, I learnt to admire people's slightest details, gestures, like in a nineteenth century novel.
After some time, I went back to Barcelona, where I live and work and play pool now. Little by little, I abandoned this english tradition (because I practiced it in England) of staring at people in the train. It was little by little, because during the first month I went to work, I would carefully look at these south american women in the train, all these unexpressive faces of women that get off the train at Sarria, a posh neighborhood in Barcelona. These women, I imagine, are making their way to clean the houses and the toilets of the houses of rich citizens.
Now I don't really look at them anymore, but I try to stand by them if they have a seat. It's a safe bet: I know they'll get off at Sarria, and so if I stand by one of them I'll be able to get her seat first, and read my newspaper comfortably until my turn comes to get off. Then, a young and sleepy (perhaps even beautiful) student will take my seat. I wonder if they also look at me, or they just stand by me to take the seat.
miércoles, 4 de febrero de 2004
Light
I suppose everybody would agree that light is a very weird thing. Ask several physicists what light is, and none will give the same answer.
But I don't blame them. We just don't know what the hell light is. We pretend we do, but we don't. It's the big paradox, if you think about it. All of our knowledge of the world comes through our eyes, through light, and yet we don't know what light is. But then, how can we know that our knowledge has something to do with the real world? We can't, until we unveil light.
But I don't blame them. We just don't know what the hell light is. We pretend we do, but we don't. It's the big paradox, if you think about it. All of our knowledge of the world comes through our eyes, through light, and yet we don't know what light is. But then, how can we know that our knowledge has something to do with the real world? We can't, until we unveil light.
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