viernes, 29 de enero de 2010

Lucky you...



Juega tus bazas pronto y todo el mundo sabrá de qué vas. Como en el poker, primero mira quién pasa y quién va, y luego decide. Finge una vez y todo el mundo pensará que vas de farol las siguientes. Gana con buenas cartas y todo el mundo pensará... que vas de farol las siguientes. Y lo divertido es el misterio.


Moraleja: la suerte es para una vez, o para dos, pero no para siempre.


lunes, 11 de enero de 2010

Stranded

Airport road there's a bus turned over.
Many people died, I guess I should've been a soldier.
What the hell you know it's not my fault,
We been stranded here and it's too far to walk.

It's late afternoon approaching evening now,
And I'm just sitting in this airport bar wondering how,
How I got here and how to get home?
Has anyone around seen a payphone?
I gotta get out of here.

And I'm stranded, the west of my coast,
I just need to get home.
And I'll be back here before you know,
So how about it Mr. Pilot, won't you let my people go?

Hungry now get a bite to eat,
And the pilot sits down to rest his feet.
A fat man walks into the pizza,
Another little one walks out with nothing...

Pretty girl walks by and I say...
She turns her back, guess I caught her eye.
The cripple rolls backwards in a wheelchair,
And the pretty girl stops to fix her hair.
And I gotta get out of here.

'Cause I'm stranded, the west of my coast,
And I just need to get home,
And I'll be back here before you know,
So how about it Mr. Pilot, won't you let my people go?

Cop tackles me down, shouts, "Give me a hand"
And his partner comes up and says, "You got the wrong man."
So the night grows on and I'm in the clear,
Call a friend at home, says "I wish you were here,
Oh how I wish you were here"

I talk to a stranger to pass the time,
Says, "How are you, boy, 'cause I'm doing fine."
Place grows cold so I put a sweater on,
I turn to reply but the stranger was gone.
The stranger was gone.

And I'm stranded, the west of my coast,
I just need to get home.
And I'll be back here before you know,
So how about it Mr. Pilot, won't you let my people go?

I take one more drink and I get up from my seat,
And I try not to fall asleep.
The rich push their carts and they prepare to fly,
As a little boy stops and waves goodbye,
Stops to wave goodbye,
Oh and he waves goodbye.

And I'm stranded, at the west of my coast,
And I just want to get home,
And I'll be back here before you know.
So how about it Mr. Pilot, won't you let my people go?



viernes, 8 de enero de 2010



"When we bleed, we bleed the same"



jueves, 7 de enero de 2010

Palabras


"Los límites de mi lenguaje significan los límites de mi mundo"1. Para aquellos que tienen la fortuna de poder hablar con libertad, las palabras están inexorablemente ligadas al pensamiento. ¿Qué voy a desayunar? ¿Debería ir a clase hoy? ¿Por qué se comporta como un imbécil?

Continuamente nos planteamos preguntas de este tipo, ponderamos las respuestas posibles y, a través de un debate interno, llegamos a una conclusión. Me saltaré el desayuno e iré a clase. Visto que se comporta como un imbécil, no voy a perder el tiempo con él. Una vez que hemos llegado a una conclusión, estamos listos para actuar. El proceso íntegro de nuestro pensamiento parece ligado a una serie finita de palabras.

¿Qué ocurriría si las palabras desaparecieran? ¿Qué herramientas nos quedarían para tomar incluso las decisiones más insignificantes? ¿Qué viene primero, el lenguaje, o el pensamiento?





1 Ludwig Wittgenstein. Tractatus Logico-Philosophicus