Sunday, February 6
unlucky in love
In matters of love, I have been fortunate to be the unluckiest man in the world. There has been little year since I have fourteen, when I did not break the heart for at least half a dozen times.
In this kind of stories when you're lucky, a gentleman has little to tell. I, however, as thoroughly as I could write my memoirs Casanova erotic and not stop being a gentleman.
almost always gave me the door in his face. Almost never went past the preliminaries.
I've been so fortunate. Sometimes I think it would have been better if things had occurred otherwise. Perhaps what is to come is supported best by two.
Maybe. I'm not so sure. Now what I fear most is that I become so cowardly to look the other way, it protected the heart when they look at me eyes. No more disappointments because old dog, I no longer fooled. But has not yet reached that point, I have not lost the idealism.
"Oviedo Paso tomorrow. I would say hello. " We saw two or three times during a week in Pisa (Pisa I slept in and went every day to Florence), exchanged e-mail. I wrote, I said. And suddenly, almost five years later-this unexpected message. Whatever happens tomorrow, no one can take away the happy fabrications Eve.
We met at the Campo dei Miracoli, empty of tourists, with a huge moon on the phantasmagoria of the marbles. We again agree on the leafy patio of the Feltrinelli bookshop del Corso in Italy. I certainly will not make any case, as I did almost no time. But you remember me ...
Failure again, I say, do not kid yourself. But those failures are what make for me still have some interest in the novel of my life.
Monday, February 7
YOU WANT FREE
A new political party declared in its statutes that expressly rejects the use of violence and threat to achieve political objectives and in this rejection expressly includes ETA terrorism. Another party says it will not acquiesce in any way that this new party is submitted to the elections.
Who are the Democrats, who so totalitarian? With the Law of Parties in the hand, is the second-which seeks to prevent the right to elect and be elected to a part of English-that should be banned.
But bar the first, with the law, without law or against it. I do not like
talk politics, there is always a friend who is upset. But one thing is not talking about petty politics, and one an accomplice. Therefore, although not help, repeat some platitudes.
In a democracy, just as legitimate to defend Catalonia, Euskadi Portugal and Spain should be part of as it should be independent: in the history of the Iberian Peninsula there are reasons for both possibilities. The defending a criminal terrorist organization ideas (the unity of Spain, for example, as did the GAL) does not criminalize these ideas: it is still legitimate, after those murders (and those of his predecessors: the Leader, the ex-battalion English) Catalonia and Euskadi argue that part of the English nation. As legitimate, at least, as the opposite.
try not to discuss this matter. Extreme nationalism (English as any other) tends to cloud witted, and I do not want any trouble. But you do not write only to entertain the leisure Sunday dear readers, and also to record which side is when serious matters are at stake. The party they vote (in which there are many who think like me, so we thought when we were opposed to Franco, but dare not say) and the main opposition party not only behave in this matter, so much less democratic leftwing nationalist, but they seem to do everything possible to continue the terrorism, not to disappear. I suspect that they are afraid to democratic independence than the other. And they were right: with Euskadi violence will never be independent, with the votes and the Covenants maybe someday. And then I feel so at home in Bilbao as I am now in Lisbon, Madrid or Barcelona.
I who love you, man or woman, nation or nationality, I free to go or stay. And that freedom is not a gracious concession mine, but his duty.
Tuesday, February 8
MY IDEA OF SUCCESS
Not all unsuccessful writers despise success. I, for one, do not scorn at all. Quite the contrary: I would like nothing more than having, not of Vargas Llosa, but Esteban Bethlehem, the lady who will just be like, like everyone else, for everyone, or a good part before she was astounded. I'm that ambitious. My friends laugh and think I'm kidding when I say that my idea of \u200b\u200bsuccess is not going to win any awards (I'm allergic), but because the prime time television brand, I take a program with a duration of several hours, which is titled simply "Spain asks, Garcia Martin responds," in the same format that they devoted to my envied nullity. And then the most serious publications dedicated to ramble on about me and the wrongs of my success.
Wednesday, February 9
FAREWELL "A taste a po'amaro perduto di sew." Taste a little bitter about loss. Who is this line that has suddenly begun to hammer in memory? Perhaps in Montale.
I ask while we wait for the bus that will lead you to Santander (coming from Santiago, from Santander will fly to Italy) and you smile and sing in a low voice: "Sapore di sale, Sapore di mare, / a taste a sewing Perdute po'amaro di, / di lontano da noi Lasciate sew, / dove è il mondo different, different da qui. "
I go home with the bitter taste of something lost and found, found, lost
.
Thursday, February 10 VANITY
Leo in an interview that the school itself (I will not say his name, there are many like him), besides not having TV at home (and therefore presumed of not knowing who is Belén Esteban: this man does not read newspapers), and listen to lots of radio, has pride, but completely lacking in vanity.
I, however, every time I have less pride and more vanity. The proud only cares about the high opinion he has of himself, the vain, however, nothing matters more than the opinions of others.
Yesterday, when I went to Nobel issues, as I do every day since sixteen years ago began publishing the magazine Clarín, a woman who crossed me, turned around and said, "Sorry to bother you, but I read every week. Sunday is the first page I read in the newspaper. " Some
has happened to me again. But it always happens to me when I'm alone, not with any known or one of those friends who think I only repeat myself and everyone has had enough of my travels and erotic phantasmagoria. And I can not tell me these things to anyone: I try as long as nobody noticed my vanity, I am a master of false modesty. Those words, perhaps only out of politeness, I am happy.
Friday, February 11
POLICY NOT SPEAK
still mulling, the politicians of either sign, whether to trust or not the new Basque party, whether they should or not leave to stand for election. I remember those disputes in the thirties on whether or not to grant women the vote. "It they are heavily managed by priests and will vote en masse to the right," said some leftist politicians. Fortunately, Clara Campoamor imposed its view that the right to vote does not support conditions: women, or the Basques, who think voters should vote, not whom we would like to vote.
I would never be a good politician, I would say always what it seems reasonable to me no matter lose votes. Say, for example, now that both political criticism, which seems to me that, in general, are well above average for their voters, culture, decency in any parameter. You have to see what he thinks is a tell-the good people of the street when nonsense on internet forums! What solutions have to end the crisis, unemployment and everything else! But perhaps the good people are silent and are more or less anonymous fanatics who speak on their behalf.
If I dared to enter the independence debate (or is), would not say more than platitudes: that the State is a thing of the head and pocket, but the country is a thing of the heart. Being an independent state or join another state, has advantages and disadvantages, and is a complex issue that depends on historical reasons, agreements, compromises. But I tell you, ordinary Spaniard Alfonso Guerra, Jacobin, which is my homeland. That has to ask me, I who knows.
Not all the citizens of this country feel that their country is Spain. To realize this is not deep sociological studies are needed: just, for example, see "Go short week," the comedy of Basque television.
Saturday, February 12 SAPORE
DI SALE
Life is hard, yes. But occasionally you hear a song about lazy days left in the mouth the taste of salt and your naked in the waves: "Poi tourniquet and you Lascia cadere vicino / così nella sabbia e nelle mie braccia / y Mentre you bacio sapore if he leaves, / Sapore di sale, Sapore di mare. "
The kiss I gave you no never, I keep giving you the song.
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