"A who lose all their leaves themselves," says a verse from one of the best poems of Rainer Maria Rilke , and that universal experience helplessness, may be separated from all the forest animals at some point in their dwindling stocks is plaguing me as from the past, and from the future in recent weeks ... Today once again commemorated the International Day BOOK AND COPYRIGHT , whose version temuquense attended in AD veritatem Itinerarium mentis in the garden Bello morning with hazel. A touch of surrealism (or unreality) with Shakespeare, Garcilaso de la Vega (what bureaucrats call it a culture do not even know the name of one of his books?) And that famous English which owed its manquedad a tavern quarrel, "but the grandest occasion saw the centuries past, present, or expected to see the upcoming" (Quixote, preface to the second part). The 2 most illustrious commemorated, the English and English, "with its people give prominence to this great event," what are the dates of their deaths, which continues to be a sign: that the understanding READING must rethink?
Well, during the morning of Wednesday (the date of the blog says Thursday) I met Rodolfo Hlousek and Ernesto González Barnert Astudillo , who presented their poems - " PERSISTENCE OF DAWN" and "HYGIENE " - in South City. But it was in the morning that these guys read their poems, but in the afternoon. In the morning the highlight was a dandy of care: the bachelor Samson Carrasco, who proclaimed that man infatuated scholar and enlightened and progressive and guardian of morals, ended the dream of Don Quixote de la Mancha.
Carrasco coming from strong UACH de Valdivia, barricaded in his Knight Riders civilization, presented in just over two hours of smug irony, a string of platitudes, lies and alms some conceptual ("writers always repeat the same issues and never do anything new "..." there are increasing and fewer readers and writers do not know where we will reach the sub-literature that violates the sanctity of the world, "" often prevents us from living life fully, ay ") , with which it acted on its acre skepticism. And as my grandmother would say: every young person who in his youth never rebelled against anything, ends up being a resentful care "or VCDSM, I might add. I have recorded her speech, but now I'm not interested in doing a thorough detail of the same and its many inconsistencies (also had some hits), since man can refer me to their further detriment killers and my delicate situation on campus. To end it, I must say that upon receiving the award that the University gave him, said "we have to pretend, lol" (what he meant?). Then, coffee, some greetings happier than others, a cigar in the field with some co-pending Rodolfo and evening event.
IN THE AFTERNOON
In the afternoon we did an event-action (quite interesting but not too much) in Pratt Street, almost opposite the Directorate of continued expansion, which began with toddlers (I mean literally) listening to Rodolfo Hlousek, Guido Eytel (in a recent photo) and Ernesto Gonzalez (Elicura Llanquilef again did not show up) tell stories about "a skinny gentleman who had a squire, does anyone know what a squire?", and urging them later, when no attention of sin, to say poems and sayings. When they were walking the matter became untenable, because it was an ambitious challenge that looked more like an act of sabotage: I'm not saying that it was, and argue that children of 8 or 9 maybe the thing would have worked beautifully.
After the slip, Eytel read a single poem: "WHEN IN THE SOUTH CHERRY flourished " , which tells of the kidnapping of his cousin Marcelo Salinas Eytel, which occurred in the spring of 1973, and has to least two excellent poems: "They become dogs again horizon / and no water to wash the injustice" . interesting thing about reading is that this time the reality is stranger than fiction, but for good: it has few days passed sentence against the perpetrators of the kidnapping of the then young Marcelo ("The seen wearing sandals / and a green jacket / color of the grass / that comes in early November). And Guido, in a gesture that belies the ravings of some minions of Oblivion who confuse justice with revenge, said at the time their feelings and family were many, perhaps peace, maybe sleep, or faith in progress of an ideal of justice that is applicable to all persons regardless of their condition ... but not exactly of Joy.
Later, minutes after greeting the poet Cesar Grandpa (who lives happy moments) and the publisher Gerardo Quijano Besieged (which was also very friendly), descended on me and kept the darkness inertially at that site. And I did it just to hear the poets Ernesto "Barnie" González (a dinosaur that lives in our minds and that has greatly improved its reading) and Rodolfo Hlousek (which seems to be like a fish in water in this raid university and every day he manages to reinvent its perpetual adolescence and make good verses.) Had fun and the audience. But in that moment ... I took my shadow and I left.
EVERY MAN SHOULD BE ABLE TO ALL THE IDEAS, AND UNDERSTAND THAT YOU WILL BE IN THE ARISING 
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