First. Blog blogging.
.
Rafa Idea. It would be great to build a blog where we deposit all this other blog that we seem fascinating, accomplished, interesting, fun [something like menename , but more intimate]. Here are three suggestions of what to read in net life :
Jesus Silva-Herzog Márquez raises blisters and revives the discussion about the paraphernalia, validity and farces of cultural studies to recall the famous incident Sokal, wherein the physical upended many academic institutions gringo (and other Western glancing ) in an acidic parody and polemic, but no less poignant. Link to an article by Steven Weinberg , published more than ten years Back on the validity of the experiment sokaliano. It's worth reading the post , responses and testing for all that we can leave the unveiling of a charlatan ... Or not? Rogelio Villarreal
(the editor of the distinguished Replicante ) launches a fierce and well-argued critique against this monster called The Chamuco little to do with the logradísima antisalinista magazine that published some of the cartoonists of today. Of course, that made it without the shadow of the Enlightened One of Macuspana cacique.
Although not a blog, you can read on-line : Gabriel Zaid has just published the latest issue of Letras Libres an erudite essay on the origin of the human obsession with productivity, its effects and causes rehash. Here the link . Despite the sudden progressive (in the sense masl iteral, not political) Nosi nvade that for 500 years, always lucid Zaid intends to recover another productivity, mental conversation. Chapeau , maestro.
.
.
Segundo. Invitation.
.
My dear friend and admired poet Santiago Matías invites us to an intergenerational reading at home as always, the Casa del Poeta. As usual, will be at the Café-Bar (euphemism) "Ants", at 19:00. The appointment is on Thursday March 6, share a table with the editor of B or n or b or s poets Eduardo Ernesto Lumbreras Milan.
.
. Third
. What I read.
.
Cormac McCarthy. highway. A father and son. Devastation. The loneliness. The other is me. The powerful simplicity of a great storyteller.
.
"The boy sat tambaleba. Man not beat watched the flames. Made some holes in the sand to accommodate the hips and boy's shoulders when they go to bed and sat hugging him as he ruffled his hair before the fire to dry it. All this is in an ancient anointing. So be it. Evokes the forms. When you have nothing more infúndeles invented ceremonies and life. "
.
" He had made the boy a flute from a piece of cane from the curb and knocked it out of the parka to give it . The boy took it wordlessly. After a while he was a little behind and minutes later the man heard it touched. A formless music for the next era. Or perhaps the last music in the Earth, emerging from ashes of devastation. The man turned and looked. Was highly concentrated. The man thought he seemed a sad and lonely orphan boy to the county announcing the arrival of a traveling show, a child who does not know that background, the actors have been devoured by wolves. "
