“Oh Salvador Dali, of the olive-colored voice! I do not praise your halting adolescent brush or your pigments that flirt with the pigment of your times, but I laud your longing for eternity with limits”.
When the phenomenal world is seen as it really is, a magical display of interconnected, insubstantial, and constantly changing flow of energies the need for solidity or attachments vanishes.
And the understanding of eternity, without form, limits, or boundaries is realized.
My dad used to take me to the corridas in Madrid when I was a child. I absolutely loved them. The toreador was my hero, and a clean kill was rewarded with an ear or tail. the picador on foot came in second for bravery. The one on horseback, third.
Occassionally a bull would get under the horses protective skirt and gore the horse. That was a tragedy. But when a matador was killed... its' cinco de la tarde.
I love the shadows in the corrida. Out of the hot sun.
Moderns don't appreciate death. To a Spaniard, the rituals of death surround you. The old ways are not forgotten. The 'sacred' lives in their hearts, and in their streets.
He was profoundly affected by the spectacle of bullfighting, writing,
It isn't just brutal like they always told us. It's a great tragedy—and the most beautiful thing I've ever seen and takes more guts and skill and guts again than anything possibly could. It's just like having a ringside seat at the war with nothing going to happen to you.[52]
He demonstrated what he considered the purity in the culture of bullfighting—called afición—and presented it as an authentic way of life, contrasted against the inauthenticity of the Parisian bohemians.[53] To be accepted as an aficionado.
old post on San Fermin the setting for The Sun Also Rises...
"Aunt Julia and the Script Writer," and "A Fish in the Water." Two great books. Llosa is up there in my admiration along with my favorite South American poet, Pablo Neruda
The street filled with tomatoes, midday, summer, light is halved like a tomato, its juice runs through the streets. In December, unabated, the tomato invades the kitchen, it enters at lunchtime, takes its ease on countertops, among glasses, butter dishes, blue saltcellars. It sheds its own light, benign majesty. Unfortunately, we must murder it: the knife sinks into living flesh, red viscera a cool sun, profound, inexhaustible, populates the salads of Chile, (...)
20 comments:
Always.
“Oh Salvador Dali, of the olive-colored voice!
I do not praise your halting adolescent brush
or your pigments that flirt with the pigment of your times,
but I laud your longing for eternity with limits”.
Federico García Lorca, “Ode to Salvador Dalí”.
When the phenomenal world is seen as it really is, a magical display of interconnected, insubstantial, and constantly changing flow of energies the need for solidity or attachments vanishes.
And the understanding of eternity, without form, limits, or boundaries is realized.
"At Five in the Afternoon," by Garcia Lorca
My dad used to take me to the corridas in Madrid when I was a child. I absolutely loved them. The toreador was my hero, and a clean kill was rewarded with an ear or tail. the picador on foot came in second for bravery. The one on horseback, third.
Occassionally a bull would get under the horses protective skirt and gore the horse. That was a tragedy. But when a matador was killed... its' cinco de la tarde.
I love the shadows in the corrida. Out of the hot sun.
Moderns don't appreciate death. To a Spaniard, the rituals of death surround you. The old ways are not forgotten. The 'sacred' lives in their hearts, and in their streets.
"The sun also ariseth, and the sun goeth down"
“It is awfully easy to be hard-boiled about everything in the daytime, but at night it is another thing.”-- Hemingway -- "The Sun Also Rises."
From Wiki:
He was profoundly affected by the spectacle of bullfighting, writing,
It isn't just brutal like they always told us. It's a great tragedy—and the most beautiful thing I've ever seen and takes more guts and skill and guts again than anything possibly could. It's just like having a ringside seat at the war with nothing going to happen to you.[52]
He demonstrated what he considered the purity in the culture of bullfighting—called afición—and presented it as an authentic way of life, contrasted against the inauthenticity of the Parisian bohemians.[53] To be accepted as an aficionado.
old post on San Fermin the setting for The Sun Also Rises...
The Sun also rises is a roman a chef...
because:
It is awfully easy to be hard-boiled about everything in the daytime, but at night it is another thing.”-- Hemingway -- "The Sun Also Rises."
Death & Romance.
Another great moves on.
"Aunt Julia and the Script Writer," and "A Fish in the Water." Two great books. Llosa is up there in my admiration along with my favorite South American poet, Pablo Neruda
I love Pablo!
:)
He's wonderful.
...more Neruda
Ode to Tomatoes
Pablo Neruda
The street
filled with tomatoes,
midday,
summer,
light is
halved
like
a
tomato,
its juice
runs
through the streets.
In December,
unabated,
the tomato
invades
the kitchen,
it enters at lunchtime,
takes
its ease
on countertops,
among glasses,
butter dishes,
blue saltcellars.
It sheds
its own light,
benign majesty.
Unfortunately, we must
murder it:
the knife
sinks
into living flesh,
red
viscera
a cool
sun,
profound,
inexhaustible,
populates the salads
of Chile,
(...)
Yes, another Spanish festival. I loved Spain and its' traditions and festivals. The fallas in Valencia are a wonderful bonfire of the vanities
I try and feel that wonder and delight every single day... I don't always achieve it, but I do try.
Thanks for sharing Shaw.
I especially loved his "Twenty Love Poems and a Song of Despair." Amazingly beautiful poems.
It's been a while. I'll have to look for it.
Ah, his numbered poems. This is my favorite... stunningly beautiful.
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