Intervista. Il caso Ron Houben, che riesce a comunicare dopo 23 anni? «Un uomo vale anche da fermo». All’estetica moderna non piacciono i risvegli, «ma solo il caso Pistorius».

«Il morbo di Cronach ha ucciso le menti di tutti. Siamo sull’attualità di basso rango, analisi di omicidi di cui nulla ci interessa dal punto di vista esistenziale. Dobbiamo rifarci il senno, io sono per la chirurgia etica. Rouben? Il suo urlo racconta la complessità del problema, siamo diventati dei plastici della vita, non parliamo mai di cosa succede dentro un corpo e un’anima» dice al telefono Alessandro Bergonzoni a proposito del quarantaseienne belga considerato in «stato vegetativo permanente» da 23 anni dopo la paralisi per un incidente stradale.
Ron Houben, grazie a un computer, ha riassunto in una frase l’altro dramma, quello del risveglio invisibile: «Urlavo ma non riuscivo a far sentire la mia voce». Mentre la realtà era diversa: «Vivo e vegeto. Ma soprattutto vivo!», come lo slogan coniato dall’attore e scrittore bolognese per l’associazione Amici di Luca di cui da anni è testimonial. Costituita nel 1997 per provvedere alle cure necessarie per risvegliare Luca, ragazzo bolognese di 15 anni in coma per 240 giorni e purtroppo scomparso nel 1998, l’associazione è riuscita a dar vita alla “Casa dei Risvegli”, un centro innovativo di riabilitazione e di ricerca inaugurato nel 2004 a Bologna nell’Ospedale Bellaria. Il primo slogan di Bergonzoni fu: «Un cavallo che vale lo danno vincente, un uomo in coma lo danno per perso, io punto tutto sui risvegli».

Oggi quanto vale un uomo in coma? «Il problema è culturale, scientifico, spirituale. Si è stabilito che conta solo il corpo che funziona per intero, che tutto deve essere indirizzato all’utilità, al desiderio, alla produzione e quindi culturalmente il terreno per poter parlare di queste cose è friabile e poco fertile. Scientificamente, siamo di fronte a ex ministri della sanità che dicono “curiamo i vivi e lasciamo perdere i morti”. Ma le certezze che la scienza sbandierava (non all’unanimità però), non ci sono più. Non voglio citare Eluana: non sono né contro né per, non sono in contrasto come invece la scienza che dogmaticamente dice “questo è, e non altro”. Noi dobbiamo andare oltre».

È sufficiente il clamore perché se ne parli in maniera approfondita? «No. L’interruzione dà fastidio a meno che non diventi Pistorius, o un testimone dello spettacolo. Perché allora diventa produttiva. Chi non vuole vedere solo l’estetica, rimane da solo. Non sono innocue queste trasmissioni, hanno costruito il mito della bellezza unica. Su internet qualcosa di diverso si trova, ma è evidente che domina la tv. È andata persa la dignità, facciamo un festival!». Quale è l’atteggiamento dei media? «Fanno attività di distrazione di massa. Ti aiutano a pensare ad altro, tutto è divertimento. Cosa resta? Lasciamo il dolore in mano ai Signorini? Ma stiamo scherzando? Non bisogna più produrre certa cultura. La pornografia è il non parlare di altro. Non abbiamo concepito davvero la diversità. Su nero e bianco e rumeno, parliamo tranquillamente. Ma sull’inguardabile, siamo a zero. In tempo di crisi, è difficile raccontare che un corpo non produce e non può dare ma che pure racconta e dà per sé».

Ci sono altri casi di invisibili risvegli? «Uno è Giampiero Steccato, ex impiegato delle ferrovie di Piacenza, è paralizzato da oltre 10 anni perché affetto dalla sindrome locked-in. Ma grazie agli assistenti, come nel racconto dello scafandro e la farfalla di Bauby, riesce a comunicare anche se muove solo un mignolo, le sopracciglia, però ci sente. Anni fa ha chiesto di vivere, ma nessuno l’ha mai intervistato o portato in tv. Interessa a qualcuno? Questo è il tema. Si continua a parlare di norme, ma non di enorme. Noi facciamo una campagna da cinque anni, ma mica il tifo. Non dobbiamo vincere, né perdere, ma concepire l’inconcepibile come concepibile. Ron ha dimostrato che come con Munch, esiste l’urlo della vita».

Perchè ne fa anche una questione spirituale? «Spirituale, ma non non religiosa. L’anima di Kandinsky e Terzani la festeggiano ovunque nei festival, ma poi tutti tornano a casa e si parla di norme. Non esiste una cultura su cosa sia un essere. Se è fermo e non parla è morto, se non produce e non fa sorriso, è morto. Quando smetteremo di parlare di morte, di uccisioni, di giallisti, e cominceremo ad affrontare ben altri misteri? Lasciare questo discorso solo alla Chiesa o alla scienza? Io non ci sto. Su Ron la scienza si rode le mani, “sta a vedere c’è dell’altro”. Nessuno parla delle altre medicine se non della medicina unica, e il resto del pianeta? Ora tratteranno Ron come un caso eccezionale o un miracolo, tra Chiesa e laici va sempre a finire in questo modo. Nessuno vede la malattia o il danno come metamorfosi o rinascita. La realtà è che sono i sani che si devono risvegliare. Che hanno mancanza di amore per lo sconosciuto. Perché fa paura. “Dobbiamo ritrattare anni e anni di scienza?” Mi sa di sì».

Fa comodo la definizione di «stato vegetativo permanente»? «Certo, così siamo tutti sicuri e non abbiamo più paura. Raccontiamo invece altre scelte. Non è che bisogna vivere a tutti i costi, Welby non è stato disumano. Ma l’automatismo o così o altrimenti no, è pornografia. Faccio continuamente incontri negli ospedali, all’università. La gente mi dice “ma questa è poesia…”. Il mio vuole essere un r’acconto, erre apostrofo acconto, un acconto di tante verità perchè non c’è più una banca dati ufficiale».

E la politica? «I nostri politici sono quelle persone che hanno avuto all’asilo l’educazione della paura. I sani fanno case, affittano, producono. Tutta la malattia è letta attraverso il codice della finanza e dell’economia. Siamo ammalati di prodotto. “Una vita così non la vorrei fare” dice sempre qualcuno: ma è un problema tuo! Loro la vorrebbero fare! Questo è il delitto, altro che chiedere ai giovani di aggiustare la lingua italiana. Come per gli handicap dei giovani. Bisogna insegnare ai loro coetanei a rapportarsi con l’handicap. Qui si discute sul crocefisso, ma hai dentro qualcosa per andare a leggere i martoriati? La scienza se non fa filosofia non parte, e la medicina sbaglia se si crede di essere da sola, è il silenzio dei sani».

Adesso cosa succederà? «In realtà sono disperato, perchè chissà quante altre persone stanno provando a chiedere ascolto come Ron. Non mancano le strutture, manca l’ascolto, prima ancora di broncoaspirazione, o della diatriba sull’alimentazione. Insomma, chi è che da oggi andrà dagli sfasciacarrozze a cercare dei motori da salvare?». Fiction estreme come Dr. House possono aiutare a raccontare questa complessità? «House un minimo lo fa, ma è sempre spettacolo, crea assuefazione. Quei casi li conosci cronologicamente, ma non fai un lavoro su te stesso. La fiction resta fiction. Queste cose sono complesse, e soprattutto non sicure. Picasso, Bacon, Artaud parlavano di paure e insicurezza, e non delle città sane».

As we sat the other night in the living room, watching a movie crowded around Tom’s laptop despite the fact that we have a den with a 52 inch television just sitting in it (another post all together) we heard someone knocking. We all stopped and looked at each other and then…again — knock, knock, knock. A quick look out the front door confirmed that no one was at the front door and in fact it was apparent that the knocking was coming from a direction completely opposite to the front door. Why would anyone INSIDE be knocking? A quick scan of the room, and mom math, deduced that oldest son was missing. We called to him and no response, just another knock. Startled now that he might be sick, we both jumped up to hear a voice calling “please help me, I am locked in the bathroom”. Yes, my oldest son became victim to someone’s tweaking and someone else’s re-tweaking of the lock on our bathroom door.

After we stopped laughing, we had to figure out how to rescue our son from the bathroom. After some manipulating, we decided that it was necessary for my son to be the one to work the screwdriver to unscrew the handle completely. His brother had to go outside and hand him up a screwdriver through the bathroom window so that he could unscrew the doorknob. After about 10 minutes – 5 or so of which were spent laughing and teasing – he was free.

Have You Seen House M.D.: Season 5 Episode 19 – Locked In?

Episode Synopsis:

House is injured in a motorcycle accident. While recovering, he finds an accident victim suffering from a brain injury. House tries to prove the brain damage caused the accident, not vice versa, so he can treat the patient.

So what do you think of this episode?

If you missed it, you can watch it here.

Our friend Danish has put us up the apartment of a family friend. We sleep head-to-feet on a bed with perhaps the hardest mattress I have ever felt. The first night, I threw myself upon it in an exhausted heap, and felt like I had just been thrown to the mat in a semi-professional wrestling match. My back still hurts.

Danish sleeps next door, and both bedrooms connect to a living room upon which is strewn all of our collective belongings. The number of empty 2 liter water bottles will soon reach double digits, as Elliot and I use the water for brushing our teeth and washing our hands, in addition to the more conventional usage. We are fortunate, however, as we sometimes have running water in the apartment. When this happens, we are able to take a hot shower. Otherwise, we pour buckets of cold water over ourselves. I’m brought back to my waterpolo days; waking up at 6:30 and gritting my teeth in preparation of the inevitable chill of cold water.

The bathrooms are old-school porcelain mats with a hole in the ground beneath it. To mitigate our use of these bathrooms, we make sure to always “use the facilities” before leaving a restaurant. In fact, our friend Manbhir at one point got locked into a KFC bathroom after one such a trip. Five members of the KFC staff gathered around the door to try and help, but to no avail. Finally, Manbhir snapped off the door handle and forced the door open. He emerged into a throng of amused and surprised people, smiling like a celebrity.

All in all, Elliot and my status as recent college grads has prepared us admirably for acclimatization to our living quarters. I’ve seen dorm rooms that were far messier.

-J & E

City Lights Presents:

12/4

Incendiary
Troublemaker
Suburban Scum
Divider
Locked In

@ The Glass Door
98 Moore Street
Brooklyn, NY

Doors @ 7
$8
All Ages

www.myspace.com/lightsnyc

Sorry officer, my bad?

A couple in Colorado rang police after their car alarm went off and they saw someone moving around inside. When the police arrived at 2.30 in the morning they discovered the culprit was a young bear who had managed to open the door and rummage around inside. Busted! Only problem was the door closed on him and he didn’t know how to open it. Dumbassed bear. Never mind, he had a good old time ripping up the upholstery in the meantime. Hmm, moral of the story is one should never leave food in the car during hibernation, those bears get real hungry. Fail.

Assim começa a dedicatória do livro de Jean-Dominique Bauby: “Para Théophile e Celeste, com os desejos de muitas borboletas”. A primeira edição saiu em 1997 com 142 páginas distribuídas entre 28 capítulos curtos, mas preenchidas em um estilo quase poético. O autor da façanha traça um retrato de si mesmo nessa autobiografia ao narrar como seu corpo tornou-se uma vestimenta impermeável e hermeticamente fechada: um escafandro, cuja sensação era a de estar mergulhado nas águas profundas do oceano sem poder tocar ou sentir nada à sua volta, recebendo oxigênio de uma máquina, após sofrer um derrame que resultou na síndrome conhecida como “locked-in”. Seu único escape era a figura de uma borboleta que voava em direção às lembranças acumuladas no decorrer dos 43 anos de vida e impulsionava sua imaginação e sonhos.

Na orelha do livro onde há a descrição do perfil do autor está escrito: “Do interior da bolha de vidro de seu escafandro, onde voam borboletas, ele nos envia cartões-postais de um mundo que só podemos imaginar, mundo onde nada mais ficou além de um espírito em ação. Espírito ora sarcástico, ora desencantado; espírito cuja intensidade toca profundamente o coração. Quando só restam palavras, nenhuma palavra é demais.”. Esse trecho foi a razão para eu instigar minha irmã a escolher este livro como presente de aniversário, pois, apesar da pouca idade sinto que existe nela um espírito tímido e poético. Combinação perfeita que permite a introspecção necessária para apreciar o relato de Jean- Do.

Bauby, jornalista e editor-chefe da revista francesa Elle, vivia rodeado de lindas mulheres, dirigia carros do ano e freqüentava bons restaurantes. No entanto tinha dois filhos com os quais não mantinha um relacionamento íntimo e um pai enfermo que não visitava com muita freqüência. Jean- Do tinha a pretensão de escrever uma versão feminina de “O Conde de Monte-Cristo”, sendo a vingança ainda o estímulo principal na narrativa transportada para o século XX. Mas o acidente vascular cerebral sofrido por ele pôs fim a esse plano e estabeleceu um novo desafio: comunicar-se com o mundo a partir do piscar da pálpebra esquerda. Ele indicava “sim” com um fechar de olho e “não” com dois. Encerrado em seu escafandro ele sinalizou cada letra de seu livro a partir de um alfabeto estabelecido de acordo com a freqüência das letras na língua francesa, enunciado por todos que falassem com ele: essa era a maneira com que ele formava as palavras e sentenças.

O livro foi convertido em longa-metragem de 1h 52 no ano de 2007 e o filme foi premiado no Festival de Cannes na categoria de melhor diretor (Julian Schnabel), ganhou dois Globos de Ouro, melhor filme e melhor diretor, e recebeu ainda quatro indicações ao Oscar. Os enquadramentos de algumas cenas lembram telas de obras de arte: a estética é incrível. Isso porque Julian Schnabel além de diretor é artista plástico. A fotografia do longa em alguns momentos fica turva para passar ao espectador a sensação de estar assistindo o filme a partir do olho de Jean-Dominique, interpretado por Mathieu Amalric, ao lado de Emmanuelle Seigner, esposa de Roman Polanski, que faz o papel da mãe dos filhos de Bauby. O roteiro foi construído em forma de flashbacks, com a reconstrução de alguns momentos da vida do personagem antes do derrame em contraste com o tempo em que fica no hospital de Berck. Um dos raros casos em que o filme faz juz ao livro e excede as expectativas com a criatividade  do diretor na sequência de tomadas.

LIRA and LRSPs normally can’t be turned into an income plan or utilize any of the non-emergency unlocking features until the investor tuns 55. With the 10 year lockin provisions of Seg fund policies it makes a good fit for clients 45 and under because they can directly access the seg assets by converting to a LIF at 55 and investing in liquid assets, which they can take as cash payment directly from the LIF (locked income fund) instead of unlocking or rolling over to an RSP.
If a client did choose to rollover part of the assets to rsp, they would again need to deregister the assets out to their chequeing account to receive anything, or further create a RIF to receive payments without withholding tax. They then have a lif, with forced minimum withdrawals, a rif for discretionary withdrawals (also has a min requirement) a rsp with whatever was left, messy.

It goes without saying that these products are inappropriate for clients within either 10 years of retirement or requiring the money for other needs. Imagine retiring and only receivingf CPP and OAS (about $16k) because your primary savings are tied up in a seg? And if you cash out the seg you lose all the growth you’ve earned in the market from the whole lockin period?

Utilizing Seg product in open plans is a great way to obtain creditor protection where it wouldn’t otherwise be available to cover the assets. For clients with maximized rsp’s, who also have this investment money, its not as important. These clients will be receiving income from their registered plans anyhow. Except for the estate benefits (bypass probate), there wouldn’t be much value in a RSP Seg positon versus the lower cost actively managed mutual fund.

Oh by the way, unlike some Universal and Permanent Life policies, you can’t leverage with a Segregated Fund as collateral.

by Mary Squicciarini

Locked In – the newly found title of our latest film. The plot goes like this: It all happens when a charming family (Family 1) invites friends (Family 2) over for dinner, and after a pleasant stroll down to the “former playground”, a lovely dinner, a lively round or two of Catch Phrase, and some audience around the pool table, there’s talk of a taking a drive down to the Dairy Farm to go on a short walk down to the swinging bridge, which apparently is very authentic. So of course, Family 2 says yes, and they drive down just as the sun is starting to set. It gets dark fast, and by the time they’re about half-way, there’s not much light to speak of. By the time they actually reach the bridge, the end of it is a far-off haze in a mist of blackness. They take the adventure that lies before them, fearlessly, unconditionally, and run across two or three times. Then they start the dark journey back. It’s a short walk, all in all around 20 minutes, but by the time they turn back it’s already so dark they can’t see one another’s faces. The only light is the occasional flash of the camera, and two very faint street-lights near the parking lot. They do manage to get back to the car, and start driving home. However, they don’t actually get more than a couple yards when they come to a sudden stop, faced with an iron gate, blocking the car from the rest of the road by two padlocks with keys and combinations. After some work of genius, two of the party manage to get the gate unlocked and swing it open as everyone else gives a collective sigh of relief. The night air calms the crowd as they return to the rest of the party, and after another rousing game of pool, the two families part ways.

Based on a true story.

So it was normal day at work, except it wasn’t because I had to stay late.
Basically I had all this last minute work to do before Moderation at the Curriculum Council the next day.

It was about 6:50, and I was alone in the staff room with no keys and no phone, photocopying way too many assignments.

Suddenly all the lights go off, the alarm is activated and everything is locked.
I’m alone with no communication, no lights and I know that if I move I’ll set off this high pitched alarm.

I can totally understand why everyone in Buffy would have been spooked at the school late at night.
I decided to move and set the alarm off, and luckily there was one other person left in the whole school.

A lovely little old lady Cormy, who came running from another building to disarm the alarm and free me from my scary situation.

I then went to grab my keys, my phone, turned on the lights and headed back to do more photocopying for another hour.

The car park was also scary.

A boy getting chased by a bully gets locked in his room by the bully

I don’t know about you, but I feel that it is more than a bit tiresome to watch the predictable slicing and dicing of every little word that is uttered by our President and others in positions of leadership. Note that I said predictable. The same panels of pundits. The same talking points. Where is the critical thinking? Where is the context?

In one of my first posts on this blog, I talked about the lack of strategic thinking by company leaders in relation to the current situations of the auto industry and newspapers. So a few months ago when I saw Joshua Cooper Ramo, author of The Age of the Unthinkable: Why the New World Disorder Constantly Surprises Us and What We Can Do About It, being interviewed by Charlie Rose, his proposed framework for thinking struck a chord with me.

Once the foreign editor for Time, Ramo is currently managing director for the geostrategic advisory firm, Kissinger Associates. I finished reading the book a few nights ago and I believe it offers valuable insights for us individually in our daily lives, and for us collectively as a nation striving to be secure in a world that becomes continually more complex, connected and yet disconnected.

Ramo talks about how most of us engage in “narrow gazing” – thinking about things in old ways that don’t incorporate the resilience needed today to operate in a new environment that demands not only resilience and empathy, but constant, in-depth, contextual probing. The book sometimes takes on a self-help tone that I didn’t find particularly appealing or relevant. But Ramo redeems himself by citing intriguing and informative real-world examples that include Silicon Valley, Hiz’ballah, ecology, the art of camouflage (influenced by the cubists) and others.

Of particular interest to me, Ramo cited a 2004 University of Michigan study that sought to understand the differences of students raised and educated in the United States and those raised and educated in China. Briefly, when shown a series of pictures with a large object and a complex background, the students raised in the U.S. focused almost entirely on the large object exclusive of the background. In contrast, the Chinese students focused almost entirely on the background. Why is this? The guess was that East Asians live in relatively complex social networks with prescribed role relations and therefore context is important for effective functioning. And Westerners live in less constraining worlds that stress independence so this lets them pay less attention to context. Ramo goes on to extrapolate inferences from this study that relate to how the U.S. operates in the world today.

Here are some other interesting points put forth:
- Today rarely is there a definitive “end” to conflicts or crises, they simply change shape
- Empathy is vital to a new way of thinking
- The more closely the U.S. is bound globally with other countries, the less resilient we may become
- We need to learn to use chaos
- Complexities tend to accumulate

As I read this book, it understandably raised my ire about the war in Iraq and how our leaders demonstrated “locked-in” thinking where their inflexibility and mistakes became ever more costly in ways too far-ranging to enumerate. Today our enemies are clever and adapt quickly in their retaliation, thus Ramo argues that what is needed is an ability to constantly reconceptualize problems, generate a diversity of ideas, communicate with everyone and encourage novelty.

As a positive example, Ramo cites the way artists think and approach their work. Many of us also may be working in other professions where it is necessary to immerse ourselves in complexities and context. Though all of the ideas in the book may not be entirely novel, I think Ramo aptly articulates a framework for thinking that is vital for today’s world. It should be required reading for people in positions of leadership.

You can find additional information about Ramo and the book in an NPR interview, the New York Times book review and on The Age of the Unthinkable Web site. I’d like to hear any comments you may have about the book and the framework for thinking Ramo proposes.

When I first started dating Ben I was still in university, and one day in my lesson I told my singing teacher that I had a new boyfriend.

“What does he do?” she asked.

“He’s a composer,” I said.

She made a face and said, “Well, a poet would be worse.”

At the time I thought that was HILARIOUS.  But today, as I sit here stuck in my house because my husband has taken all of the keys with him and left me here unable to lock the front door, not so much.  All the keys.  ALL of them.  Gone.

The only possible solution would have been to stick my bike in front of the front door, go back inside, lock the front door, go out back and rappel down into the alley, go to the front of the house very quickly, get on my bike and go – but I crocked my knee on Friday and don’t want to make it worse by jumping down from the roof.  Also with my luck the bike would probably get stolen in the two minutes between me leaving it out front and coming back to get it.

This has happened before, but not usually when I’m supposed to go teach, then go to a play.

Ah, whatever.  Shit like this does happen.  At least now I get to eat dinner and hang out with the dogs.

He traicionado uno de mis principios.  Sí, he visto House subtitulado. Ya sé que para los más puristas sería un traidor por verlo traducido, pero es que el doblaje en español (en España, pues supongo que en los diferentes países hispanoamericanos lo doblarán cada cual con los suyos) del personaje House es brillante. De hecho, puede que sea una blasfemia,  mejora al original.

En fin, toda esta parrafada viene al caso de que, tras un parón en el visionado de la serie, logramos ponernos al día de su quinta temporada. ¡Mal hecho! ¡Ni siquiera nos habíamos fijado en que quedaban todavía tres episodios por emitir en español! Así que, vencidos por la curiosidad, decidimos volvernos locos y trasladarnos al universo anglosajón de nuestro querido doctor.

Y he aquí, que me veo todavía sorprendido por la quinta temporada de una serie dramática que se basa en episodios autoconclusivos de esquema repetitivo. Todavía el CSI de la Medicina me deslumbra, me puede llegar a dejar impresionado por unos giros y un rizar-el-rizo que, a veces, te pueden llegar a alterar el estado emocional más de lo habitual.

Por un lado, una vez que por fin apareció una persona con lupus, hemos visto como en ningún diagnóstico se vuelve a mencionar la citada enfermedad (supongo que era por probabilidad estadística: “ya hemos tenido un caso, ya es imposible que se vuelva a plantear”), si bien la sarcoidosis se establece como su más que digna sucesora… Y la estructura que se repite infinitamente, como decía Nietzsche, en su “eterno retorno”: enfermo/a llega a clínica, se desprecia el caso, solución-no solución, parada, casi-solución, paciente que casi fallece, inspiración divina, “soy-el-puto-amo,-soy-el-doctor-House”.

Esto tiene que ser así, pero no por ello podemos dejar de apreciar una serie de circunstancias que se  han dado a lo largo de esta quinta temporada: las relaciones Trece/Foreman y Cameron/Chase (personajes que recuperan protagonismo a medida que avanza la temporada), las dudas de Taub, los encuentros y desencuentros con Wilson, House y las drogas (llega hasta la metadona, ¡atiende!), Cuddy y su maternidad han sido elementos con los que se han ido sazonando este quinto año de nuestro querido doctor. Tambíén hemos visto que se ha puesto un énfasis mayor en el aspecto religioso, en el episodio del cura-borracho-puteado-amargado y otros. Y algunos experimentos audiovisuales, como ocurrió en el capítulo 19 (Locked In), rodado una gran parte en plano subjetivo, desde los ojos de un paciente que no se puede mover (dirigido por Daniel Attias, al que conocí gracias a Six Feet Under, aunque también hay que mencionar que fue el director del episodio Numbers, en el que se “revelaba” el significado del 4-8-15-16-23-42 de Lost por primera vez).

Sin embargo, todo queda en un segundo plano, lo que hace realmente sobrecogedora esta quinta temporada es lo que sucede en el episodio 20 (Simple Explanation). El suicidio de Kutner (encarnado por el actor Kal Penn, quien abandonaba la serie para formar parte del equipo de Obama) es absolutamente brutal, completamente desgarrador. Estúpido, imprevisible, cruel, descarnado. Aporta un giro dramático a la serie tan grande, que todavía no sé si valorarlo de una forma positiva o negativa (es como si Joan Manuel Serrat de repente cantara una canción heavy). El golpe es tan duro que te puedes pensar, por momentos, que estás viendo A dos metros bajo tierra en vez de House.

No sé si el repentino anuncio del actor provocó una reacción tan inesperada-dura (-¿vengativa?) por los creadores de la serie, pero el suicidio del doctor Kutner era tan poco previsible (quizás era tan equilibrado que por ahí se podía ver el error del círculo demasiado perfecto, pero eso no deja de ser más que una explicación “facilona” a posteriori) que su efecto se multiplica. Es una auténtica hostia en la cara. Un bofetón emocional. Desde el fallecimiento de Nate Fisher no recuerdo una muerte ficticia que me impactara de tal manera.

Esta tragedia desencadenará una serie de sucesos, que harán que el ritmo de los últimos episodios se acelere mediante la concatenación de sucesos… La boda precipitada Cameron/Chase (y esa subtrama que tan poca gracia me ha hecho del esperma), la reaparición “alucinante” de Amber, el “lío” de House y Cuddy… y, por fin, la locura de House. El racional doctor, por una vez, se ve superado por un acontecimiento al que no encuentra explicación, por un lado, y que no ha sido capaz de prever, por otro. Es la puesta en duda absoluta de su Don (tema recurrente en esta temporada: el miedo de House a estar perdiendo sus prodigiosas cualidades)… Es el viaje a la locura que llevará a House de camino a un psiquiátrico, cuando su lado derecho irracional acabe imponiéndose al lógico hemisferio izquierdo de su cerebro.

Todos somos humanos… Incluso el doctor House, aunque sólo sea por unos momentos.

Eslóganes que matan

My class with the Saskatchewan Stitches Conference taught by my Soul Mate is coming up really soon and I have been seriously neglecting the sweater I intend to make for it.  This morning I cleaned up my bedroom (for those of you who know/knew me, you understand what sort of undertaking this is) and moved my bedside table over beside my trunk so that I could wind the remaining yarn required for this project.  Andrew neglected to get up at any hour I would have determined reasonable to get this project done so I just started working and winding away around his sleeping self. 

After the yarn was wound and the room was within reasonable messy limits I gathered up some chocolate, my knitting supplies, a can of coke, Twilight, Rent, and locked myself in so that I could get some uninterupted knitting time and get this done. 

Thus far I have watched both Twilight and Rent, finished off a chocolate bar, my can of coke, and a rice krispie square and completed the right front of my sweater plus 1 and a half sleeves.  I think I am finally on the home stretch.  I should be able to get the rest of the sleeve out of the current ball of yarn I am working with and that leaves me 2 1/2 balls of Misti Cotton to do my finishing.  Do you think that will be enough?  Yeah, I think I overestimated too. 

Hopefully by tomorrow I will be able to seam and finish the sweater, maybe even wearing it by Tuesday…but I won’t push my luck. 

It is amazing how quickly it works up and, given that, my reluctance to pick it up and finish it.  The decreases in the lace pattern may have intimidated me a little and contributed it that which is why I would feel the need to lock myself away from my family and the rest of the world today…but it got the job done.  Or mostly done. 

The bad thing is that I am all out of movie and may need to take a trip into town to return the one I have and then rent another.  This will cut into some serious knitting time.  Sigh. 

Anyway, I will see you on the flipside.

A consortium behind a multi billion dollar port and rail project in Western Australia’s mid west says construction will start in 2011.

Oakajee Port and Rail (OPR) locked in an agreement with the State Government in April to build a $4 billion port and associated rail infrastructure.

The Chief Executive of OPR, Chris Eves, has told a business gathering in Perth this morning that the consortium hopes to complete the project by 2013.

Mr Eves says $60 million has already been spent undertaking a feasibility study with another $100 million to be spent in the next 18 months.

http://au.biz.yahoo.com/090512/31/269qw.html

I called my roommate:

“Hi Christa! It’s me…Could you….”

“UHHHH! Aditi, you’ll have to wait a few minutes though, I just put the sauce on the stove. You better remember to carry your keys next time, I’m not going to let you in again!”

“Oh Oh! I’ll wait, sorry….thank you”

Summer is on its way out and foolishly ignoring that, I stepped out this morning in a sleeveless dress. I shiver silently, turning back down to “Slouching toward Bethlehem” that I had been reading on my walk over.

I hear the sound of scraping shoes on the asphalt behind. A pair of black sneakers step into the periphery of my vision. She has shoulder length blond hair that off-sets the far-too-orange-to-be-real tanned skin; a grey t-shirt that screams “Penn State Field hockey”, sweat pants that reach down to the calf, a black back pack and in her hands is a set of jangling car keys that hang on navy blue thread which confirms her college.

She looks at me quickly, smiles and looks away. I do the same, though not looking away completely.

“Do you live here?”
“Yes, I forgot my keys though, so I can’t really get in”
“Oh!”

It’s a Saturday evening, so it’s very quiet, and I wish someone would come by to let both of us in. The temperature seems to drop even further. She looks out straight into the glass doors, longing to be standing in the warmth of the lobby instead of outside with a weird girl who has a funny accent and seems to be stealing furtive glances at her. Her boyfriend, brother, sister or friend is taking much too long to open the door, and really, she didn’t drive down 6 hours to stand outside in the cold.

She suddenly remembers something, and whips her cell phone out of her pocket, flips it open, presses one of the glossy buttons twice and proceeds to hear someone’s caller tune. I try to tune out.

She steps back and begins to pace, phone still glued to her ear, and I pretend to turn back to my book. Absent mindedly she plays with the keys. She spins them around, and the thread insidiously wraps itself around her stubby hands, instantly making white lines, blocking off the circulation where it touches them. Once, and then backwards and the color rushes back into the white lines. Repeat as desired. The person she is calling has decided to not pick up and she slaps the phone close, too impatient to take advantage of the boon that is voicemail.

I hear a door open and close inside and I look up to Christa walking towards the door. Penn State Field hockey walks into the now opened door and brushes past Christa without a word. I enter, smiling at Christa sheepishly. She smiles back at me impatiently and indulgently. The object of my observation walks away in a huff into the north wing of the building making me feel like I did something wrong or stupid.

Un homme est “enfermé en lui” après une chute de vélo. beaucoup de vues à la première personne floues ou bougées ce qui rend l’épisode un fatiguant a regarder. Un bon épisode cependant.

Hey … God sent you.

Suddenly, you’re not so fascinating.