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Noche, que en tu amoroso y dulce olvido... Francisco de la Torre

Miguel Ibáñez — Sun, 29 Nov 2009 09:16:34 +0000

La Nuit. Claude Joseph Vernet

Este soneto del no muy conocido Francisco de la Torre siempre me ha parecido una de las cumbres de la poesía del siglo XVI. La serena invocación a la noche en el primer cuarteto y esa mezcla de abatimiento y resignación con la que el resto del poema transcurre hasta desembocar en el último verso producen una rara sensación de belleza entregada al dolor, pero no dominada por el sentimiento, sino más bien fundida, abrazada al dolor.

Hay un tono prerromántico, si se quiere ver así, pero Francisco de la Torre es todavía un poeta clásico. No deja que el sentimiento predomine sobre la forma. Y sin embargo, ¡qué capacidad de hacernos sentir!, ¡qué emocionada sinceridad sin aspavientos!

Decididamente, cuando se perdió la forma se perdió también el contenido. Empezamos por sacrificar la retórica a la “expresión del yo” y hemos acabado por no poder expresar un “yo” auténtico, sino puras fantasmagorías.

¡Noche, que en tu amoroso y dulce olvido

escondes y entretienes los cuidados

del enemigo día y los pasados

trabajos recompensas al sentido!

Tú, que de mi dolor me has conducido

a contemplarte, y contemplar mis hados

-enemigos ahora conjurados

contra un hombre del cielo perseguido-

así las claras lámparas del cielo

siempre te alumbren, y tu amiga frente

de beleño y ciprés tengas ceñida,

que no vierta su luz en este suelo

el claro sol mientras me quejo ausente;

¡De mi pasión bien sabes tú y mi vida!

Wins & Fails: Daredevil 501 Review

krakkaboom — Tue, 03 Nov 2009 20:05:35 +0000

Daredevil 501 A fantastic cover that is actually indicative of what happens in the issue. New Avenge

El arte de no hacer nada contra la prostitución

David — Tue, 08 Sep 2009 09:07:08 +0000

No soy el único que se indigna al ver como el alcalde de Málaga dice que no cuenta con los suficient

A Lesson in Argumentation

Jeremy — Mon, 11 May 2009 17:03:29 +0000

I don’t really know why I keep the Associated Baptist press in my news feed, but I do.

Today this lovely gem appeared: Opinion: A pop quiz for biblical literalists – By Miguel De La Torre

I suppose De La Torre, has probably heard of the Straw Man argument. But maybe all my readers have not. I will quote directly from wikipedia here, because it is as clear as what I could say.

A straw man argument is an informal fallacy based on misrepresentation of an opponent’s position.[1] To “attack a straw man” is to create the illusion of having refuted a proposition by substituting a superficially similar proposition (the “straw man”), and refuting it, without ever having actually refuted the original position.

The article I cited above is a perfect example of this. De La Torre obviously believes that inerrantists are to dumb to understand hermeneutics.

Congratulations sir, you have destroyed a position that nobody actually holds.

CULTURA ETÉREA ABRIL 09

lucasemece — Fri, 24 Apr 2009 18:37:19 +0000

// CULTURA ETÉREA // ABRIL // 2009 //

“Desenmascarando a los RRHH”, Zeithgeist.

“Cuántos”, YUB le.

“Colectivo Imaginario”, Tobías De La Torre.

ENTREVISTA A ROSARIO BLÉFARI

Además:

“A Woman A Man Walked By”, la nueva colaboración de Polly Jean Harvey y John Parish.

TORPEDO 1936. Repasamos algunos detalles de uno de los comics más populares del viejo continente.

// CULTURA ETÉREA // ABRIL // 2009 //

for John

Christopher — Sat, 18 Apr 2009 02:50:13 +0000

This gloomy week’s end is a sunset that still carries you. Smile a broken laugh, a white lie. A tall tale you told to comfort me. To check the fear that awaited me. I was young, you seemed younger.

And somehow we still met half way.

Victoria Street, where the squirrels ran through the attic. Where open windows shook leaves of all colors. I saw white those nights. “Bring me something shiny,” you said.

Saturday pm to am, staring at tanks filled with fish, shoving down scallion pancakes below the arch. One Sunday morning, I taught you my recipe for scrambled eggs with kosher franks. “If Rome were built in a day, we would have hired the contractor.”

From Micaela to Michael at tables with shiny white cloth, to Julie’s hands to whispers of June. To Lorenzo’s tastings and Ian and Jazz at Zygomates to Guy and Jim and the three angels with colors warm and cool. Up the elevator, spilling into the kitchen – that was a kick-ass apartment, wasn’t it? To Jonathan and Nora with mimosa, to Pamela to Helena and chats of Zua, and cheers to Frankie.

To Keith and Lemonte and Ken – have you run into him yet? To Eileen’s “secret” to Carmen and Boy on turntables to Kevin spinning the velvet rope like a lasso. To Brian patting your back, 10 for 10 on stage (you loved him like a brother), kicking back and ducking for cover in Brookline. Parker’s ups (and who was down?) To your Laura Branigan hair (I think I still have that tape somewhere), Tracey and Ben on the Juke with TT’s mix. Rehearsing in a parking lot with red and blue lights flashing.

Oxtail. Rabbit. What else did Barbara create? Food settled over warped recorded Chopin and a passing train through the tube. We traveled through a telephone to take a shower that night and I wimped out. “I’m across the bar in the Yankees cap,” I wrote. Thought I’d get slaughtered on Newbury but the portabella sandwich got to me first.

On the back of the Dali postcard you wrote: “So even after C3PO saved their lives on the Forrest Moon of ENDOR, they still treated him like shit. I hate that.”

Now the sun sets, leaves a silver streak in its wake, between clouds. Between the spokes of your bike, revolutions on Commercial as you looked for me – the skinny kid amidst all the tight muscle. I was 20.

I still keep the Veuve pendant on my keychain. I still think of you when Eddie says “Lacroix” or Ally explains why she has so much shit in her purse. I still have the artwork and the photo booth shots – all of them. And remember Sunday beats at brunch when I hear “savoy.” I’m listening to “Meet Me in Montauk” now, thinking you might like it. Smile a broken laugh. I have some catching up to do. “I’ll pick you up at Oscar’s before the show.”

“I’ll pick you up before the show.”

photos

my photo in Italian Vogue

Christopher — Fri, 14 Nov 2008 21:42:12 +0000

Vogue Italia published my photograph of Italian author Marco Mancassola in its November 2008 issue. Grazie tante Marco, Federico e Ada! I scanned and posted the spread, as well as the tear-sheet version sent from Italy (both below):

: : : : : : : : : : :

nyc's rustic country [charm]

Christopher — Thu, 02 Oct 2008 21:08:58 +0000

I’m rehashing this Edge review from last year because it’s a great time of year for this restaurant!

Irving Mill flaunts rustic country charm just a skip from Union Square’s open-air greenmarket. And what better place to offer a greenmarket-driven Italian and French inspired cuisine? Veteran John Schaefer (former Executive Chef of Gramercy Tavern) has teamed up with the Riva family to bring us a rustic tavern-like destination unlike any other in the area.

The restaurant’s historical draw lies with Washington Irving, the classic author responsible for the infamous Headless Horseman and “The Legend of Sleepy Hollow.” The den sits a stone’s throw from the quaint and charming Manhattan row that bears his name and, although since disproved as a myth, the residence that stands on the corner of 17th Street and Irving Place was once thought to have been his home.

Once the medieval sensation known as Candela, the new brighter venue was officially knighted last week. The late October opening was brilliantly timed and planned, complete with engaging décor; the new look and feel of this wide open space, brought to us by former Ralph Lauren designer Scott Hill, has been described as “Old World Clean,” and materializes style cues of a cozy Appalachian and early European country fusion.

The 3,000lb millstone lodged in the middle of the room doesn’t provide the most convenient seating arrangement, but it sure does suggest this place knows the worth of a good beer. Irving Mill boasts a 50/50 ratio of draught to bottle and, at about 8 or 9 bottles including a double wheat selection that’ll knock you off your horse, that’s a fair amount of options for any beer enthusiast. The owners were smart to feature a fair number of microbrews, which guarantees to up the stock of this neighborhood watering hole.

Perhaps the most tantalizing introduction of the evening was the Harvest, a rosemary infused vodka creation that combines a dash of lemon juice and almond syrup with pear puree to tickle your palette with Autumnal bliss. And if rosemary doesn’t suit your fancy, just try the fennel.

Highlights from the kitchen include the Grilled Baby Octopus, a rabbit short rib, and Swiss chard Soffrito with Roasted Jerusalem Artichokes and Cauliflower. And at $58 for a 5-course tasting menu (that includes fresh Heart of Palm and roasted Sea Scallop), Irving Mill looks expensive to the eye, but won’t burn a hole in your pocket.

Owner Mario Riva hopes to create a neighborhood destination, which probably explains the spacious Bar Front Tap Room and elevated Lounge that’s walk-in welcome. On press night this area seemed to be the preferred hangout for visiting Benjamin Bratt who, throughout the evening, created quite the stir. (Also present was Crossing Jordan’s Jill Hennessy.) Reservations for the Main Dining Area are strongly suggested, while the 3,000 bottle Wine Cellar features a Private Dining Room perfect for business meetings and parties for up to 40 people.

If you’re wondering what Irving Mill will look and feel like once Spring rolls around, don’t worry. According to Mario, “it will definitely follow the seasons, from design to menu to décor.”

Image: courtesy Irving Mill | Read my review on Edge

Palma-Palmilla no tiene derecho a poseer una piscina municipal

Agrupación — Wed, 18 Jun 2008 22:24:10 +0000

Post also available in English by Google Translate Nueva delicatessen de Francisco de la Torre: ahor

Diferencias...

Agrupación — Sun, 08 Jun 2008 08:02:25 +0000

Post also available in English by Google Translate Hagan ustedes dos entrevistas a nuestro alcalde F

¿Qué se oculta tras Cabriel, 27?

Agrupación — Fri, 06 Jun 2008 06:07:26 +0000

Post also available in English by Google Translate Ayer, en la reunión del Consejo Territorial en la

Sigo, Silencio, tu estrellado manto. Francisco de la Torre

Miguel Ibáñez — Sun, 06 Apr 2008 06:19:00 +0000

Noche de luna. Miraldo Sponza

La poesía del misterioso Francisco de la Torre ya fue utilizada por Quevedo en la lucha contra el culteranismo, y podría ser utilizada hoy en la lucha contra la histeria, el irracionalismo y la verborrea que padece cierta poesía española.

De la Torre escribe en un estilo sereno en el que el dolor es contenido por la filosofía neoplatónica y por la exigente formalidad del soneto. El resultado de esa lucha -y ese compromiso- entre forma y contenido es una poesía elegante, honda y meditada.

Sigo la edición de José María Micó y Jaime Siles en Paraíso cerrado. Poesía en lengua española de los siglos XVI y XVII, (Círculo de lectores). Me he limitado a añadir una coma al final del segundo verso.

Sigo, Silencio, tu estrellado manto,
de transparentes lumbres guarnecido,
enemigo del sol esclarecido,
ave nocturna de agorero canto.

El falso mago Amor, con el encanto
de palabras quebradas por olvido,
convirtió mi razón y mi sentido,
mi cuerpo no, por deshacelle en llanto.

Tú, que sabes mi mal, y tú, que fuiste
la ocasión principal de mi tormento,
por quien fui venturoso y desdichado,

oye tú solo mi dolor, que al triste
a quien persigue cielo violento
no le está bien que sepa su cuidado.

Caminata 649 - Rio Corralejos

explorandosierras — Sun, 20 Jan 2008 19:15:52 +0000

Participantes: Viviana Batistelli, Gustavo Ontivero, Anibal Gustavo Ramassa, Luis Estrada, Glenda Ca

Helado de Fresa (III)

Regina Rauda — Fri, 23 Nov 2007 16:38:40 +0000

Cuando la escritura es desigual, con los trazos ascendentes firmes, y los descendentes ligeros, la persona padece ansiedad y está angustiada.

El mundo no es un sitio agradable cuando te estás muriendo y tienes que buscar un iglú con taza del váter para estar tranquila.Cuando a tu pareja lo único que le importa es la fidelidad y las subastas benéficas televisadas.

Y tú, lo único que realmente estás intentado es dejarte morir.

Acariciarse las tetas no es algo sexual. Ni siquiera una costumbre que tiene desde pequeña.

Acariciarse las tetas significa carcinoma lobular infiltrante.

Cáncer de mama.

Metástasis.

Imagina una bolda de helado. Redonda y perfecta. Con un poco de escarcha por encima

Convierte las fresas en puré. Añade nata y leche condensada. Bate la crema hasta que forme grumos.

Agrega azúcar.

Incorpora lentamente la mezcla de fresas y la crema.

Refrigera hasta que endurezca.

Imagina la cara del cirujano diciendo:- El tumor es una pequeña pelotita. Lo extraeremos como si fuese una bolda de helado. De fresa.Imagina una bola de cáncer.Redonda y letal.

efrigera hasta que endurezca y sirve bolas en una copa de helado.

Con un cigarro en la boca, Susana escribe:

- Tengo veintisiete años y me estoy muriendo.Imagina una cubeta de helado derritiéndose en agosto. Resbalando por los bordes. Cayendo al suelo. Filtrándose entre las baldosas. Invadiendo el tejido adiposo de las mamas. Cubriendo los conductos linfáticos.

Susana Nuez Moscada mira a Wilson y dice:

- Creo que a los dos nos queda poco tiempo.

Y con delicadeza, hunde la uña en Wilson y lo pela.

Separa los gajos uno a uno.

Y deja que estallen dentro de la boca.Hasta luego, Wilson.

Esto termina sobre la taza de un váter.

Con Susana Nuez Moscada escribiendo frases en la puerta del retrete.Despidiéndose de un montón de gente a la que no conoce.

Despidiéndose de otros esquimales que llegarán al iglú.

A dejarse morir.

O a evacuar para tratar de vivir.

Esto termina con un cáncer avanzado denso y pesado.

Haciendo ruido.

Aniquilando.

Cubriéndolo todo.

Regenerándose lentamente.

Extendiéndose.

Esto termina con la misma impotencia que tienes cuando no puedes cerrar un grifo y sigue goteando.

Cáncer de fresa.

*El segundo dibujo es de “De la Torre”. El primero no lo sé.

I Couldn't See Her.

Jill — Thu, 29 Mar 2007 12:28:00 +0000

I couldn’t even see her as her mother talked about her. She wanted to go to college, her mother told us. She wanted to learn but it cost too much, and the school wouldn’t even let her in. I couldn’t see her because I had a little girl on my lap who could very well become her in a few years. Or maybe I didn’t want to look.

A friend who was with me pointed out that the kids whom we played with and connected with have very different futures than we hope for ourselves. In their own country, there are no jobs or opportunities of higher learning for people who live in cardboard houses. And if they cross over into my country, they will be scrutinized and discriminated against not only because they are poor, but also because they are Mexican and they do not speak English. Every place seems to want to push them aside, push them away, push them out.

When I say I didn’t see her, I mean it in the literal sense: The room was crowded; the children distracting. But I also didn’t see her, didn’t see the essence of her struggle that is also the struggle of the girl who was in my lap and the struggle of the stooped woman who spoke of the great pains in her body, pains from living such a hard life. Until we were talking in class, I had closed myself off from seeing these women. I hadn’t wanted to think about how much it could hurt just to hope for an education, hope for the end of an illness, hope for the chance to grow up, just hope.

Justifying Her Marginalization

The women I met at the church in Piedras Negras have predominantly been marginalized because they are on the margins of society economically. In Reading the Bible from the Margins, Miguel De La Torre discusses ways in which Christians at the center of society use the Bible to justify such classism. He links the justification of classism to John Calvin, whose theology states that “God determines the eternal fate of each person,”[1] and to Max Weber, who takes this a step further to say that one can know one is saved by the “visible fruits produced by one’s labor.”[2] This interpretation of what it means to be in God’s favor works well for people at the economic center of our culture, who can claim that their wealth is a sign of how much God loves them.

When someone from the center of society believes they are at the center due to their faithfulness, they often (intentionally or unintentionally) exclude people at the margins from God’s grace. Wealth becomes a measuring tool which decides how deserving someone is of God’s love, and also how deserving she is of the center’s acceptance. While people at the center may feel bad that there are others in the world who are poor and oppressed, they do not recognize the ways in which they contribute to the systems that cause poverty and oppression, and if they decide to “help” those who are poor and oppressed, they do it from a distance, giving aid but not addressing the systemic nature of the problems. They never take off their cultural, racial, or socio-economic blinders. I experienced this when I visited some missionaries I know in Honduras, who have been there over two years and set up all sorts of food and health and Bible study programs yet still seem to think that the people they are serving are somehow inherently different from themselves, that they don’t take pride in what they do, that they are lazy. I think that the members of the church in Piedras Negras have had contact with some church groups who share these missionaries’ attitude. They have been “helped” by people before who were seeking to justify the systemic problems of classism and racism so as not to leave without feeling like they’d done something good.

Her Double Consciousness

Although it is easy for us at the socio-economic center to attribute our wealth to God’s grace and favor, De La Torre finds this theological perspective problematic when he looks at it from the margins and is prompted to ask, “If wealth indicates closeness to God, does poverty mean God’s rejection?”[3]

Even if no one has ever claimed outright that they are rejected by God, the young girl, the teenager and the older woman I met in Piedras Negras have certainly experienced rejection by those with power. These women’s government allows them to be exploited when they try to buy land, and is now pushing them off the land they own. The educational institutions nearby have rejected the young people from their community, sending them away when they are seeking an academic future. Perhaps even their religious authorities have offered them judgment rather than compassion. These women may have started to believe that if they are rejected by such powerful groups, then they must also be rejected by God.

In the opening chapter of Reading the Bible from the Margins, De La Torre explains W.E.B. Dubois’ concept of double consciousness, which is the experience of many marginalized members of society when they are “pressured to forsake their self-consciousness” and to “see themselves as the [center of society] sees them.”[4] As the dominant culture tells these women that they are not valuable, they can start to see themselves that way. The hope that they have for a better future, the dreams of an education, are squelched by societal messages of rejection. Even though Norma, the little girl who sat on my lap, might believe right now that she can grow up and go to school, get a job and have enough money to support her family, the reality is that she probably won’t. And through rejection, she might even start to believe that that is just the way things are, that she isn’t worth as much as someone born a hundred miles away, on the other side of the border.

One of the women in the group said that maybe her life is hard because she doesn’t have enough faith. Even though she goes to a church where the leaders are committed to social justice, where (I am fairly sure) the theology is pretty liberal and does not teach that God would choose to bless some people more than others, through her other experiences with rejection this woman has come to believe that God does not favor her. She sees herself through a double consciousness and a false consciousness; even in the context of a community that is trying to lift her up and show her that God loves her and even favors her, she is afraid she does not have enough faith.

A Web of Oppression

This woman’s inability to move past her double consciousness into a kind of full self-consciousness (in which she might see herself as an integral part of God’s plan for community) even in the context of a church that uplifts her is indicative of the deep web of oppression in which we are all tied up. De La Torre writes that “[o]ur culture’s present structures of oppression go beyond a black-white dichotomy. Oppressive social structures are fluid, creating different levels and severities of oppression.”[5] These structures, he points out, can simultaneously work to our detriment and our benefit.

In thinking about the inextricable ways in which the ideology, theology and actions of the center of society are connected to the ideology, theology and actions of the margins, I’ve started to see the systems of oppression to which we are all connected as a dangerous and rampant illness. Although I may appear to benefit from these systems when I am in the position of the oppressor, I am hurting a part of my community by allowing them to be oppressed. And I need my community to be healthy to ensure my own health! De La Torre compares society to a dysfunctional family to show that when one part of the family is hurting another, the entire family is affected. I like this metaphor because it does not assume that the dysfunction occurs only on the side of the person who shows its symptoms (the person on the margins). The dysfunction occurs in the relationship between the center and the margins.

Why Couldn’t I See Her?

Sometimes I don’t really see someone for who she is because of who I am. I am protective of my emotions. I am proud of myself and what I’ve accomplished in my life. I don’t want to admit that on some level I could be tied up in the dysfunction in the world. I couldn’t see her because I didn’t want to see that she could be me. I didn’t want to think about the ways we are connected by our hopes, by our faith, by the fact that we are both living in the twenty-first century, just across a river from each other.

I was recently reminded me of this quote, which is usually attributed to aboriginal activist Lilla Watson. It sums up what I would want the women I met in Piedras Negras to say to me and is the basis for which I would like to build a relationship with people who experience oppression:

“If you have come here to help me, you are wasting your time… but if you have come because your liberation is bound up with mine, then let us work together.”

I hope we can.

[1] Miguel De La Torre, Reading the Bible from the Margins (Maryknoll, NY: Orbis Books, 2002), 72.
[2] Ibid., 73.
[3] Ibid.
[4] Ibid., 28.
[5] Ibid.

mag3

Mark Gardner — Sat, 02 Sep 2006 05:46:19 +0000

As I read the article, there were points that stood taller to me than others. The commendible thing here is that we have a venue that allows us to deal with social issues that have and will continue to help shape our missional outlook. God has called the church to go and make disciples of all nations. Therefore we must go. I agree that Biblically, Jesus represents God’s manifestation within His created order. The fullness of the invisible God is clearly revealed in Jesus Christ. The salvation that God offers humanity is one that releases the oppressed and sets the captive free. Is it challenging for the non-believer to wrap his or her thoughts around this concept? However, the point that still rings true is the fact that we still live in a society that is full of classism, economic inequalities, down right sinfulness. The rich gets richer and the poverty stricken individuals are left to fend for themselves. John 10:10, gives us a contrast as to what the thief does went he comes and what God does when He comes. The most segregated time in the whole week is unfortunately Sunday morning. You go to x church and I go to y’s church.

People who are oppressed tend to gravitate toward those who are experiencing similar challenges. I was not quite clear on DLa Torre’s point on those who read from the margins. It would seem as though the disenfranchised would seek out text that speak directly to their most felt need.

mag