A Dios lo que es de Dios.
Al césar lo que es del césar.
clic!
Y ahí está. Las cosas de palacio van despacio aunque al final
the shit hits the fan.
clic!
Pues eso, mañana retomamos sobre pobreza, índice Gini, desigualdad, Batman inicia
y olé
:-)
b
viernes, octubre 28, 2005
jueves, octubre 20, 2005
Reflections on (I)
Inequity, poverty, development, public administration
And there you go, such an impressive and Sunday-ish title for blog post.
So let us begin with this little capsules, dosages of modern communication:
Santiago is hosting the 10th congress of the CLAD. The President himself attended the opening night and talked to the audience. At 7:30, people were ready to go, clapping, smiling with hopes.
Some others did not have any.
The night was ready to come to an end, and outside, the city was getting ready for a strike from private bus owners servicing the public transportation system.
Public. Private meddling with public.
clic!
Outside as well, a man, a woman, and their child were sleeping over an old mattress. They go there everyday or they had been there for the duration of the Congress. Homeless. A coincidence. Paid by someone to be there. Conspiracy. A sign of our times.. all this to be read with a question mark.
In Chile the State is recovering its center position by getting rid of the fact and the myth of the so-called inefficiency affecting the State, public servants and officials, bureaucrats and the sort.
The public health care system is growing and getting better and modernizing.
Some call for the end of the state and granting of privileges to the private sector. Some claim that the richer the country, the most is produced, a more democratic process will be the result and a general sense of wellbeing and wellfare: plenty of flowers and food and joy to the people.
Myth.
Friedman was wrong and he knows it. Someone might tell this to the neocons and conservatives.
The private sector has one priority which is to make profits. The rest is secondary.
Countries that have privatized the state-owned companies are not in better position than before. Not many of them at least. I, the people, care for the people. I, the money, care for the money.
I think it is very self-explanatory, and just as Alanis sings
Isn't it ironic, don't you think?
:-)
b in James mood
And there you go, such an impressive and Sunday-ish title for blog post.
So let us begin with this little capsules, dosages of modern communication:
Santiago is hosting the 10th congress of the CLAD. The President himself attended the opening night and talked to the audience. At 7:30, people were ready to go, clapping, smiling with hopes.
Some others did not have any.
The night was ready to come to an end, and outside, the city was getting ready for a strike from private bus owners servicing the public transportation system.
Public. Private meddling with public.
clic!
Outside as well, a man, a woman, and their child were sleeping over an old mattress. They go there everyday or they had been there for the duration of the Congress. Homeless. A coincidence. Paid by someone to be there. Conspiracy. A sign of our times.. all this to be read with a question mark.
In Chile the State is recovering its center position by getting rid of the fact and the myth of the so-called inefficiency affecting the State, public servants and officials, bureaucrats and the sort.
The public health care system is growing and getting better and modernizing.
Some call for the end of the state and granting of privileges to the private sector. Some claim that the richer the country, the most is produced, a more democratic process will be the result and a general sense of wellbeing and wellfare: plenty of flowers and food and joy to the people.
Myth.
Friedman was wrong and he knows it. Someone might tell this to the neocons and conservatives.
The private sector has one priority which is to make profits. The rest is secondary.
Countries that have privatized the state-owned companies are not in better position than before. Not many of them at least. I, the people, care for the people. I, the money, care for the money.
I think it is very self-explanatory, and just as Alanis sings
Isn't it ironic, don't you think?
:-)
b in James mood
domingo, octubre 16, 2005
Dugueiroz se pone serio
Eso fue el miércoles. Marroncito llegaba de un trabajo ultrasecreto, ultraconfidencial
de esos de los que depende la muerte de los vivos, la paz delicada hecha de cáscaras de huevo e hilos de aire, de esas que... pero uffff too much Spanish for me. Anyways, Dugueiroz came up in the morning with a great idea: to indulge us with a great banquet. Of course I offered my services, and was ready to call the team of my personal assistants, a sine qua non condition for me to enter the domains of the kitchen and bring down to earth the delicacies of the gods.
But he said no. That it would be good for me to rest and enjoy the work of others.
I had no other option than accepting and so I went into Sabatical mood.
He was in charge of everything at once...
The moment b arrived, tired and happy at the same time, a waiter approached him with a glass of Kirch royal, and that was the beginning. Someone, friend of D of course, produced three magnificent and comfortable chairs, placed them in the balcony in the upper deck on the roof of the building, and with cleaned and clear windows, the sunset bathed city was the gift and the cue to start the relaxed-atmosphere-attitude.
D was smoking some Dominican cigars and so was I. B was only nodding to the prolegomena when D got more serious. There was a very soft music, lounge, AIR. I have to admit that when D intends to do something right, he definitely does.
I will skip all the details about the food though it should be a tour de force, however: Dugueiroz.
He was offered a position at a leading magazine in London this week. At the same time, and in the same city, a very well known fragrance house (I would have thought very obscure as well should the parfums and ties were not used by some members of the Royal family, some artists, and newcomers in the Empire, and alas, even marroncito) commisionned him also to contact some producers of raw materials, and botanic houses both in Chile and Argentina. Then D commented on the dark days that are affecting Miss Moss. I guess that he also noticed what little interest that situation presented to his two listeners, so with enviable smoothness he moved into his last project, which, besides the new offers he has received, has him thinking loads about something totally new, for him that is.
He is producing a number of unknown people from different disciplines and non-discipline areas in what he called An Improbable Mixture of Intentions. He has assembled a group with a Hungarian translator, a journalist, an artist, a handcraft, a scientologist, a E-entertainment television fan, a neo-nazi, a very beautiful woman, a very ugly woman (these two are self-defined as such), a chess player, a gardener (according to D one of the most fascinating characters, by far), a right-wing wind-less think tank representative, an American from Utah, a Haitian, a figlio di puttana, a military man, a homeless, and b.
Whether B knew about this project is not to my knowledge. However he did not show a single concern upon the possibility of being integral part of such diversity.
D continued talking. He said that the idea with this group is to record a number of sessions, different combination of people addressing a number of modern day situations, old news (dialectics here of course), random conversations, random beginning and endings of situations, comic, tragic situations, film watching, travelling to places...
What results from this will be published in DVD and book formats. He has already a number of contracts for this production with major moguls in the respective business. But he also stressed the fact how, by using the theory of Mr Miranda, late Mr Miranda on spheres of speech, some of these characters will experience an alteration in the way the see, live, and die their lives. He then intends to record the individual work from each of these people, and he adds emphatically, 'and by work I mean, what they do, the way they are, how they behave themselves in their every day activities and chores. All of them are out of the loop. They are, so to speak, people who stayed at the station watching life goes by: Sometimes they take part. Sometimes they don't'.
I recognized the influence of B there, but taken to other realms with wings, with air, quantumly leaped. Then he said, and those were the final words for the evening (in that tone I mean), 'I know soon we will all be MP3ed and podcasted, so let us do things before we turned into thin air'.
Air it will be, Birken added, and smiled, a very enigmatic smile.
Cheers!, I said not completely understanding what to do with all this but it was pleasant to have a little flavor of Dugueiroz being less light and metrosexual than usual .
Yes, cheers!
James
de esos de los que depende la muerte de los vivos, la paz delicada hecha de cáscaras de huevo e hilos de aire, de esas que... pero uffff too much Spanish for me. Anyways, Dugueiroz came up in the morning with a great idea: to indulge us with a great banquet. Of course I offered my services, and was ready to call the team of my personal assistants, a sine qua non condition for me to enter the domains of the kitchen and bring down to earth the delicacies of the gods.
But he said no. That it would be good for me to rest and enjoy the work of others.
I had no other option than accepting and so I went into Sabatical mood.
He was in charge of everything at once...
The moment b arrived, tired and happy at the same time, a waiter approached him with a glass of Kirch royal, and that was the beginning. Someone, friend of D of course, produced three magnificent and comfortable chairs, placed them in the balcony in the upper deck on the roof of the building, and with cleaned and clear windows, the sunset bathed city was the gift and the cue to start the relaxed-atmosphere-attitude.
D was smoking some Dominican cigars and so was I. B was only nodding to the prolegomena when D got more serious. There was a very soft music, lounge, AIR. I have to admit that when D intends to do something right, he definitely does.
I will skip all the details about the food though it should be a tour de force, however: Dugueiroz.
He was offered a position at a leading magazine in London this week. At the same time, and in the same city, a very well known fragrance house (I would have thought very obscure as well should the parfums and ties were not used by some members of the Royal family, some artists, and newcomers in the Empire, and alas, even marroncito) commisionned him also to contact some producers of raw materials, and botanic houses both in Chile and Argentina. Then D commented on the dark days that are affecting Miss Moss. I guess that he also noticed what little interest that situation presented to his two listeners, so with enviable smoothness he moved into his last project, which, besides the new offers he has received, has him thinking loads about something totally new, for him that is.
He is producing a number of unknown people from different disciplines and non-discipline areas in what he called An Improbable Mixture of Intentions. He has assembled a group with a Hungarian translator, a journalist, an artist, a handcraft, a scientologist, a E-entertainment television fan, a neo-nazi, a very beautiful woman, a very ugly woman (these two are self-defined as such), a chess player, a gardener (according to D one of the most fascinating characters, by far), a right-wing wind-less think tank representative, an American from Utah, a Haitian, a figlio di puttana, a military man, a homeless, and b.
Whether B knew about this project is not to my knowledge. However he did not show a single concern upon the possibility of being integral part of such diversity.
D continued talking. He said that the idea with this group is to record a number of sessions, different combination of people addressing a number of modern day situations, old news (dialectics here of course), random conversations, random beginning and endings of situations, comic, tragic situations, film watching, travelling to places...
What results from this will be published in DVD and book formats. He has already a number of contracts for this production with major moguls in the respective business. But he also stressed the fact how, by using the theory of Mr Miranda, late Mr Miranda on spheres of speech, some of these characters will experience an alteration in the way the see, live, and die their lives. He then intends to record the individual work from each of these people, and he adds emphatically, 'and by work I mean, what they do, the way they are, how they behave themselves in their every day activities and chores. All of them are out of the loop. They are, so to speak, people who stayed at the station watching life goes by: Sometimes they take part. Sometimes they don't'.
I recognized the influence of B there, but taken to other realms with wings, with air, quantumly leaped. Then he said, and those were the final words for the evening (in that tone I mean), 'I know soon we will all be MP3ed and podcasted, so let us do things before we turned into thin air'.
Air it will be, Birken added, and smiled, a very enigmatic smile.
Cheers!, I said not completely understanding what to do with all this but it was pleasant to have a little flavor of Dugueiroz being less light and metrosexual than usual .
Yes, cheers!
James
martes, octubre 11, 2005
Lecturas
Metafísica de los tubos de Amelie Nothomb.
Habrá sido tres, dos, cuatro, seiscientos años atrás, tal vez antes de que lo escribiera
la autora, que una francesa joven en un café casi de mala muerte en un centro
definitivamente de mala muerte en un 2'48'132ioweoiqruw0r2341 pueblo con ínfulas de ciudad en el Reino Unido de Blair y fish'n chips
me recomendó leer esa novela.
Y el tiempo pasó como suele pasar y rumbeándole tomos y lomos a una librería
malagueña que lo encontré, anagramado como parecen estar los casi todos de ella,
de la autora, cuando lo encontré.
Y el libro:
cómico, ácido sentido del humor y de la observación, dejo de autobiografía,
mucho de lluvia, mucho de ver el mundo desde otras orillas, tocando
tangencialmente ocaso de imperios, nacimiento de delirios
que parten desde la niñez, descubrimiento de verdades -de esas que duelen-
descubrimiento de mentiras y medias tintas y sobretodo, la profunda desazón de saber
que no siempre tus padres te pueden
o te saben leer.
El libro no te deja solo al terminarlo. Tampoco te deja con compañía por lo que se podría decir
tal vez
que no es un libro imprescindible, pero
y vengan los peros
en estos tiempos aciagos donde todo es y va tan aprisa
que un libro peque de prescindible es casi un regalo de los azares.
Toda experiencia de lectura es subjetiva y responde
a situaciones que varían desde el hambre que te agobia
la persona que te espera en alguna parte
el sol que hiende la ciudad como cuando alguien ha partido y uno queda a solas
terriblemente a solas: detalles
que conforman y adornan y rodean
como halo
la lectura del libro. Me gustó, pero es una de esas cuasi vivencias
que sigue su camino y tangencialmente, te deja un sabor de vainillas
un vislumbrar de peces de colores
una cicatriz en la mejilla.
Clic!
The last reader, Ricardo Piglia
Piglia, argentinísimo, me parece que uno de los escritores (y sin duda lectores) fundamentales del (este) momento argentino. No muy conocido o visto o pensado desde otros lados de la cordillera de los Andes pero apreciado en otras latitudes.
Libro de ensayos, muy íntimo, que abre como flor diversas lecturas hechas por el autor, creacionista a la manera de dios (dicen) o de los artesanos
nos lleva con apreciación aguda por lecturas tan variadas como únicas, dibujando al otro, no al que escribe sino a quien lee, a quien resulta subyugado por las palabras,
así desfilan en minúscula no por falta de respeto mas por (sip, también) intimidad:
flaubert, joyce, kafka, carver, che guevara, tú :-)
Abre intermezzo musical
suenan dos versiones de
Bizarre Love Triangle
de Frente! y de New Order
musical intermezzo cierra
y ahí, al final, uno si queda con las manos llenas, con la cabeza abierta
con ojos de aviador (como diría mi querido PJ)
y no queda más remedio que buscar una ventanita
para mirar y escribir en las nubes
los nombres
los nombres y las flores
que alzan el rostro al cielo.
clic!
b.
Habrá sido tres, dos, cuatro, seiscientos años atrás, tal vez antes de que lo escribiera
la autora, que una francesa joven en un café casi de mala muerte en un centro
definitivamente de mala muerte en un 2'48'132ioweoiqruw0r2341 pueblo con ínfulas de ciudad en el Reino Unido de Blair y fish'n chips
me recomendó leer esa novela.
Y el tiempo pasó como suele pasar y rumbeándole tomos y lomos a una librería
malagueña que lo encontré, anagramado como parecen estar los casi todos de ella,
de la autora, cuando lo encontré.
Y el libro:
cómico, ácido sentido del humor y de la observación, dejo de autobiografía,
mucho de lluvia, mucho de ver el mundo desde otras orillas, tocando
tangencialmente ocaso de imperios, nacimiento de delirios
que parten desde la niñez, descubrimiento de verdades -de esas que duelen-
descubrimiento de mentiras y medias tintas y sobretodo, la profunda desazón de saber
que no siempre tus padres te pueden
o te saben leer.
El libro no te deja solo al terminarlo. Tampoco te deja con compañía por lo que se podría decir
tal vez
que no es un libro imprescindible, pero
y vengan los peros
en estos tiempos aciagos donde todo es y va tan aprisa
que un libro peque de prescindible es casi un regalo de los azares.
Toda experiencia de lectura es subjetiva y responde
a situaciones que varían desde el hambre que te agobia
la persona que te espera en alguna parte
el sol que hiende la ciudad como cuando alguien ha partido y uno queda a solas
terriblemente a solas: detalles
que conforman y adornan y rodean
como halo
la lectura del libro. Me gustó, pero es una de esas cuasi vivencias
que sigue su camino y tangencialmente, te deja un sabor de vainillas
un vislumbrar de peces de colores
una cicatriz en la mejilla.
Clic!
The last reader, Ricardo Piglia
Piglia, argentinísimo, me parece que uno de los escritores (y sin duda lectores) fundamentales del (este) momento argentino. No muy conocido o visto o pensado desde otros lados de la cordillera de los Andes pero apreciado en otras latitudes.
Libro de ensayos, muy íntimo, que abre como flor diversas lecturas hechas por el autor, creacionista a la manera de dios (dicen) o de los artesanos
nos lleva con apreciación aguda por lecturas tan variadas como únicas, dibujando al otro, no al que escribe sino a quien lee, a quien resulta subyugado por las palabras,
así desfilan en minúscula no por falta de respeto mas por (sip, también) intimidad:
flaubert, joyce, kafka, carver, che guevara, tú :-)
Abre intermezzo musical
suenan dos versiones de
Bizarre Love Triangle
de Frente! y de New Order
musical intermezzo cierra
y ahí, al final, uno si queda con las manos llenas, con la cabeza abierta
con ojos de aviador (como diría mi querido PJ)
y no queda más remedio que buscar una ventanita
para mirar y escribir en las nubes
los nombres
los nombres y las flores
que alzan el rostro al cielo.
clic!
b.
lunes, octubre 03, 2005
y lo que más quisiera pedirte
es que te quedes conmigo,
yo te daré lo que pidas
sólo no te vayas nunca
Julieta Venegas
clic!
cosas extrañas como chicos que dejan de tomar http://uk.news.yahoo.com/03102005/80/chinese-chimp-quits-smoking-16-years.html
después de
tanto tiempo
en fin....
Va breve muy breve, pero caramba....
me va cansando un poco la vida de jetset
:-)
pero hay cambios y cambios en el panorama mundial.
En este patio, llega la primavera finalmente asoma su naricita linda
bailamos hasta el amanecer con distancias incluidas
se nos colgó el sueño de los párpados y bailamos de felicidad ante el mar.
Del otro lado de la orilla, del río a nuestras espaldas
brillaba con reflejos de piel
doradeando cerveza.. y al otro lado insisto
un letrero grande
que decía
ti voglio bene
Sip
viva la alquimia
b.
yo te daré lo que pidas
sólo no te vayas nunca
Julieta Venegas
clic!
cosas extrañas como chicos que dejan de tomar http://uk.news.yahoo.com/03102005/80/chinese-chimp-quits-smoking-16-years.html
después de
tanto tiempo
en fin....
Va breve muy breve, pero caramba....
me va cansando un poco la vida de jetset
:-)
pero hay cambios y cambios en el panorama mundial.
En este patio, llega la primavera finalmente asoma su naricita linda
bailamos hasta el amanecer con distancias incluidas
se nos colgó el sueño de los párpados y bailamos de felicidad ante el mar.
Del otro lado de la orilla, del río a nuestras espaldas
brillaba con reflejos de piel
doradeando cerveza.. y al otro lado insisto
un letrero grande
que decía
ti voglio bene
Sip
viva la alquimia
b.
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