The new tide

Everyone's been flooded with information on the attack during patriots day, it's consequences, the hunt, how it all ended. So I guess it's not very useful to write a summary of the events because that can be found pretty much everywhere. I wanted to get a few things out of my chest though, so this is merely a subjective post (I guess all of my posts kind of are anyways):

My new hometown grieved this week; it also carried out a fast and effective hunt of the culprits: Two brothers that had emigrated years ago and were living in Cambridge. When the details on them and their background were released I couldn't be sadder. I'm sad for the younger brother, he's just 19, should be getting into college, going out with girls (or boys) and not blowing up people.

 Last night, after the kid was caught, the bars opened, people went to the streets and celebrated. I'd like to think most were celebrating the fact that they don't need to live in fear. I was happy to be able to get out of my room and breathe some fresh air. I went to the store and got some beer.

In Malden (the suburb where I now live), one day before they shut down the city, a Syrian woman was harassed on the street. A guy screamed at her and called her a terrorist. The story was published on The Boston Globe's website (I just went to check it and they took it out, but it's still on the Facebook page where I originally saw it [I'm printing the screen]).

Malden is an immigrant neighborhood: there's lots of Arabs, Chinese, Indians, Brazilians, etc. I like it here, food is good. I really hope this harassment incident was a one time thing. This is the land of the free after all.

Read about Writing, Write about Reading

It's been a few weeks since my last entry. I resumed my work in Boston, I got my computer fixed, and I noticed how I don't really need it anymore for the most part of my week, but when I do and it's not there I really miss it. Not having my laptop with me meant not being able to write properly a blog entry. It meant not being able to backup the photos I took over the holidays, or upload them to the inter-webs. I kept up to date with the weather, checked my email, and browsed my face-book-news-wall thanks to my phone, but I haven't had the chance to do anything important. Now I have windows 8 (it kind of sucks [although it is quite pretty]), I was able to backup all my files, and have switched to open office. As I wait a few minutes for my most precious electronic belonging to download back into my laptop (my music library), I sip some tea, and write a bit.

One can not really write if one doesn't read. I remember having read a book by Steven King when I was a kid, it was called While I Write. In it he writes quick-tips and rules of thumb he normally follows (I still remember quite a few), and one of them is that he tries to read at least ten times more than what he writes. This seemed quite a lot to me back in the day, but lately I've come to realize it's not that much really: If a writer gets one novel done per year, and he reads about a book a month, he'll be already reading twelve times more than what he writes... Does this mean that Steven King doesn't read enough? It may appear that way.

In his defense, I also remember another rule of thumb (I don't remember anymore where I heard/read it but it's been stuck in my mind for a lot of time so the source must have been credible) that says: one can not read about what one does not know (I think I already talked a bit about this previously). So it's important to have something to say when one writes, and it's easier to write about life and stuff when one spends a good amount of time at living it... and stuff. So I guess we'll give Mr. King the benefit of the doubt and assume he spends a lot of time hunting ghosts and fighting demons.

In the department of reading I've been quite active. I finished Love in the Times of Cholera. I also finished the Girl Who Kicked the Hornet's Nest, and the Great Gatsby. I really enjoyed the three of them:

• Garcia Marquez's book was astonishingly simple in form. In essence, I didn't get the whole Magical Realism thing except for a few bits of fantasy (there's an immortal parrot) here and there. The whole story is actually quite similar to that of my grandpa and my grandma, or to stories they used to tell me when I was little, about their friends, about oddities that happened in their little town when they were young.
• Stieg Larsson's book was just as good as the previous two in Froken Salander's trilogy. Though the story is quite predictable (logical maybe?) at certain parts, it is quite witty. The story develops at several depths in quite an intense way. It is a story about society and the authorities, but also one about gender inequalities, about the foundation of democracy, about journalism, and it is also a spy novel.
• Fitzgerald's most famous work was a fun break from big novels with many plots. It's amazing how a tiny story can achieve such greatness. I guess it's all about being American: Americans are concise. On that note, last weekend I saw at the Library (the one on 5^th Avenue and 42^nd Street) an exhibition on NY lunches, and a cool phrase was being displayed: the American is born fast, grows fast, makes up his mind fast, eats fast, gets rich fast, and dies fast.

In keeping up with Latin America, the next book on my list is be Cabaret Místico, by Alejandro Jodorowsky. I can't wait to start reading.

Live! From Babylon

I haven't been really good at maintaining this space. Truth being said, i even have a rough time to stay in touch with most of my friends: never finding the time and/or inspiration to let them know in some cool way that i care about them, i hope they fine, and that they're often in my mind. 2013 just started, and it brings the right time to reflect on quite a few things, i should make a small list of things i should accomplish now that I'm finally about to have enough personal time and peace (now that I'm getting old). Writing a lot more is going to be on that list. What can i write about? Writing to friends helps, i can also write to-do lists, maybe some recipes, ideas as they come, i guess starting small will be ok, and soon greater things will come.

It is a bit hard to get good inspiration here in Boston, at least through my monotonous working bee lens. If i want to find something worth writing about in this civilized soil, I'll have to look away from my cubicle and walks through the malls, I'll have to pay little or no attention to the millions of tv shows everyone else follows (even though some of them are sooooo gooooood). Sure i will make use of my Latin (not roman) point of view, but i don't want to overuse my most notorious trait... Too much spice numbs the tongue i guess.

My trip to Mexico was cool. I could have used a couple more weeks of slacking though. I missed my mates. I missed the beer and the laughs. I missed the ways of my people, where everything is chill and money is scarce, but no one really cares that much (unless you start a family cause then you have to be kind of responsible sometimes).

I started the year in new york. It was cool to walk through the crowds and just take it all in. It didn't look like a hurricane just hit it. The city was working at full speed. The first of January, everything but the museums was open. People of all colors, immigrants and visitors from everywhere all together, shopping, eating burgers, taking pictures. We took quite a few photos as well (and yes we had a burger too, it was good). I really like New York. Being there is like being at the center of the world. True that the US is not what it used to be, but it is still in Wall Street where economy is decided, it is Manhattan (maybe Brooklyn lately) where most of the art comes from. I guess that this late touch of decay only serves to make more evident that The City is the modern Babylon. I will be back to New York in a couple of weeks. I'm looking forward to it for quite a few good reasons (they all have the same name). But for the time being, good old Boston will have to suffice.

Aye.

El Torzón

Hicham había pasado algunos días en la ciudad de México. Haber crecido en África lo había forjado para estar siempre atento, mantenerse seguro, y disfrutar de unas vacaciones en la ciudad monstruo sin problema alguno. Todo había ido bien. Rápidamente había hecho amigos en el hostal con quienes salir en la noche. De día, hacía turismo por su cuenta. En algunas ocasiones había salido a comer/cenar con viejas amistades. La bestia estaba domesticada para nuestro héroe marroquí. Hicham era como un local, su español era bastante bueno y el acento no lo hacía resaltar. Todo parecía extrañamente familiar. Incluso las empanadas que vendían afuera de las estaciones del metro. Ese día había poco tiempo para recorrer muchos lugares. Tenía que ser bastante eficiente, Decidió comer mientras viajaba en el metro. Del puesto mas cercano de empanadas escogió una de atún (después de todo, las vendían también en Marruecos). La comió en el camino sin prestar mucha atención. Y entonces, le dio el torzón.

Rulo había ido a México por pocos días. Debía tramitar una visa para empezar a trabajar en Estados Unidos. Habían pasado catorce meses desde su última visita. Tras atender a la cita en la embajada en la ciudad de México, viajó a San Luis a visitar a sus amigos. Era fin de semana, y por dos días enteros la fiesta no paró. Fue tan grande que Mano no se presentó a trabajar ni sábado ni domingo (así es, Mano trabajaba sin fines de semana, sin descanso, de sol a sol, a veces más). Ya no eran tan jóvenes como antes. Las borracheras no se curaban tan rápido. El domingo en la noche decidieron llevarla tranquilo, ver un par de películas con Minoru y dejar al cuerpo reposar. Hacían años que no visitaban un puesto de hot-dogs y nachos que estaba a unas cuadras del departamento. Decidieron compartir unos nachos grandes entre los tres. Y de repente, les dio el torzón.

La última navidad que pasé en México fue en el 2010. A pesar de que tan solo seis meses antes había recorrido el país con algunos de mis mejores amigos de Montreal (Irene, El hermano de Irene, y Blanka), al llegar sentí el peso de tanto tiempo lejos. Había creado un evento en Factbook para saludar a todo el mundo. Invité a mucha gente: amigos de la infancia, la carrera, y el antiguo empleo. La cita fue en un bar en el centro de la ciudad llamado la mezcalería (si, tenían muchos tipos diferentes de mezcal). La noche se pasó bastante bien. Invité tragos, me invitaron tragos, todo muy bien. Entonces, alguien me pasó un shot de mezcal con un escorpión adentro. Normalmente traen un gusano, esto era bastante especial. Como era mi fiesta debía tomarlo. Amarrándome de valor mastiqué un poco el escorpión y lo trague con el mezcal. Era tiempo de regresar a casa. A la mañana siguiente, efectivamente, me dio el torzón. 

Crisis As an Area of Opportunity

Crises tend to overwhelm. They bring loss of stability and a sense of uncertainty that makes us feel uncomfortable. Have you ever worried about things that might happen in the near future and felt that weird variation of the stomach-butterflies that’s not enjoyable? I tend to worry too much, so I have. The latest Dalai Lama likes to say: if there’s a solution to it then there’s no need to worry, if there’s no solution, then there’s no need to worry either (last time we were hanging out he told me the same thing like 5 times).

America’s economy (along with the economy of the rest of the western world) has recently gone through a big economic crisis, and even though things have slowly improved, people still feel down about it. They weren’t used to experiencing crisis; not like we are used to back home. In Mexico we’ve learned to struggle with money; but lately we’ve been going through a political and social crisis that we had never seen. Thus, spirits back home are also down.

A good way to stop worrying about the crisis is looking at the opportunities it presents. Crisis is an agent of change. If the US needs an economic model change, right now would be the time to make it happen. In the same way, in Mexico we should be more prone to take arms against a sea of troubles, and by opposing end them, to die to sleep, no more; and by a sleep to say we end the heart-ache, and the thousand natural shocks that flesh is heir to?

Talking more seriously though (at least more practically), there IS real opportunity that the US crisis brought, and I don’t talk about merely taking advantage of undervalued housing, the US economic crisis is the product of a variety of factors, so there’s many ways to take advantage of it. Here’s a few that pop up in my mind:

• Manufacture of high quality, reliable, advanced products is no longer world-competitive when done within US soil. Right now would be the perfect time to strengthen advanced manufacture in Latin America (or any other region of the world where living is less expensive and where regulations can be met). Even for US citizens, moving out of Detroit and to places with nicer weather along with their assembly companies, could be a sweet move (public health care, sandy beaches, free higher education, and coronas doesn't sound that bad).

• Research and Development is starting to be heavily endorsed by both American companies and government. If you’ve got a master (or even better, a PhD) and always wanted to work at a high-tech lab, the US is a great place to look at right now. You’ll be helping the country and mankind’s progress.

• In same spirit, the US needs new companies, and ventures will be sponsored happily; so it is a great moment to become the boss, create a company, and start generating some jobs (yours to begin with).

Every crisis has its winners. It would be cool to be part of the winning team for a change.

While I Was Away (part 1)

I once heard you can’t write if you’re happy.

I’ve been quite happy lately. That being said, I’ve also been rather busy.

I also mistakenly deleted the registry of the blog’s pictures by taking them away from google+ (google linked them together without me asking for it). Once I found out google owns blogger and stores everything in a single place, and it’s so easy to ruin settings or misplace information… I was quite angry with their service. Bottom line, it’s been a while since I last decided to write something for this place. But all it needed was a bit of work to make the page look nice, and fixing the pictures to make me want to write some more again. So here I am, typing, hoping it comes out cool. Maybe I’ll change blog service provider in the future. For now I’ll make do.

I’ve been thinking quite a bit lately about a few creativity related subjects:

• Intellectual property as the purest form of capitalism: It’s quite a surreal feeling, the one I get when thinking about how our society allows us to own ideas, and more importantly, to make profit from owning them. Walt Disney, as a company pays lots of money to a group of lobbyists to get congressmen to extend the time of copyright ownership after the creator has dead, thus preventing us all from drawing naked mickey mice and selling those drawings.
• Tablets and cloud storage: There’s no excuse nowadays not to read. They give us access to an infinite resource of material. All classics are free; we don’t even need to store them on a drive locally as they can exist in our Amazon accounts. Technology has pushed forward our society, and just made access to information a commonplace reality.
• One can only write about what one knows: Quite a lot of the books I like are somewhat autobiographical. The hero of the story tends to share the writer’s personality traits, other characters tend to be based on real people at least loosely. When we make up the entire thing it always ends up looking plain, a bit forced… at least in my case (I’m not a good liar).
• There are only 7 basic story plots: That’s about right. In the past century a couple more have been added but that’s only cause way too many authors were sick of the basic 7 and made a huge effort to freshen up storytelling. It would be real cool if I get to see a few more new ones during my lifetime.
• There is no money in poetry, and there is no poetry in money: Poetry doesn’t sell, very few people like it. It’s hard, it’s personal, it asks for the reader to break a thicker wall before making a connection with the writer. Last year’s Nobel Prize winner (the Swedish poet) was widely unknown, and even now after the award we don’t see his works around.

It seems a bit unfair to dedicate just a couple of lines to each of the subjects… but I don’t really have a huge argument to present on any of them. Or do I? In any case, I would like to end this entry with a cool phrase:

There are two golden rules to success: 1) never reveal everything you know.

¡Mueran Los Escritores Latinoamericanos!

No voy a engañarme, soy un escritor de closet, y también soy latinoamericano. Dicho eso, paso a desahogarme:

Pienso en Octavio Paz y en su empeño por ser acepado por la aristocracia. Le imagino el hobby secreto de coleccionar fotos en las que aparezca con presidentes, reyes, embajadores, etc. Su obra fue hecha para los pocos; nosotros nunca valimos, salvo quizá en el cuento del dinosaurio.

Estoy terminando la niña mala de Mario Vargas Llosa, y me trae bastantes conflictos, los mismos conflictos que tuve con rayuela de Cortázar. No soporto a los personajes principales de la historia, al menos el personaje de Julio no pretende ser el héroe de. Mario adora usar palabras en inglés y francés sin otro motivo que el de demostrarnos que habla los idiomas (porqué decir que los hippies luchaban contra el establishment cuando tenemos palabras más adecuadas en español, o qué tiene un clochard que un indigente no tenga), Julio es aun peor, y su vocabulario incluso en español es innecesariamente rebuscado.

Pocas veces he podido leer un libro latinoamericano y disfrutarlo de inicio a fin. Me vienen a la mente los libros para niños de Isabel Allende de la serie de la ciudad de las bestias y la noche de Tlatelolco y la piel del cielo de Elena Poniatowska. Cierto que no son autoras reconocidas por su alta calidad literaria, cierto que son muy comerciales, pero al menos son bastante entretenidas y no tan arrogantes como los escritores hombres.

Por otro lado, me alegro de haber descubierto a Roberto Bolaño. 

Nota para mi mismo: tener siempre en mente que no quiero caer en las prácticas que describo arriba

Nota para quien lea esto: por favor avisa si notas que lo hago