Gabelia
Wednesday, March 28, 2012
Monday, January 9, 2012
Song of the day: Grand Canyon - with Tracey Thorn
Grand Canyon - with Tracey Thorn
Boy I think you've come home
Open up the door and step inside
So many people who feel the way you do
Their sweetest dreams have always been denied
Lock the past into a box and throw away the key
And leave behind those days of endless night
Everyone is waiting
Everyone is here
Step out of the woods into the light
Everybody loves you here (x4)
Boy you've been on the wrong road
Wearing someone else's shoes
Who told you you were not what you were meant to be?
And got you paying someone else's dues?
This is the place for you just look around this room
Is anybody here made out of stone?
Down among the heretics, the losers, and the saints
You are here amongst your own
You've come home (x5)
Look at this hole inside your heart
No one can ever fill
It's like the Grand Canyon
Look at this gap that's opened up
Between you and the world
It's like the Grand Canyon
Look at this hole inside your heart
It's like the Grand Canyon
The Grand Canyon
Everybody loves you here (x4)
You've come home (x5)
Boy I think you've come home
Open up the door and step inside
So many people who feel the way you do
Their sweetest dreams have always been denied
Lock the past into a box and throw away the key
And leave behind those days of endless night
Everyone is waiting
Everyone is here
Step out of the woods into the light
Everybody loves you here (x4)
Boy you've been on the wrong road
Wearing someone else's shoes
Who told you you were not what you were meant to be?
And got you paying someone else's dues?
This is the place for you just look around this room
Is anybody here made out of stone?
Down among the heretics, the losers, and the saints
You are here amongst your own
You've come home (x5)
Look at this hole inside your heart
No one can ever fill
It's like the Grand Canyon
Look at this gap that's opened up
Between you and the world
It's like the Grand Canyon
Look at this hole inside your heart
It's like the Grand Canyon
The Grand Canyon
Everybody loves you here (x4)
You've come home (x5)
Saturday, November 12, 2011
Entre repechines y bajadines
Monday, October 17, 2011
Unweaving the rainbow
“We are going to die, and that makes us the lucky ones. Most people are never going to die because they are never going to be born. The potential people who could have been here in my place but who will in fact never see the light of day outnumber the sand grains of Sahara. Certainly those unborn ghosts include greater poets than Keats, scientists greater than Newton. We know this because the set of possible people allowed by our DNA so massively outnumbers the set of actual people. In the teeth of these stupefying odds it is you and I, in our ordinariness, that are here. We privileged few, who won the lottery of birth against all odds, how dare we whine at our inevitable return to that prior state from which the vast majority have never stirred?”
Richard Dawkins - Unweaving the Rainbow
Sunday, October 16, 2011
Autumn
My days here, since i arrived at my home-town, are amazingly sunny. No, we are no englishmen here but the topic of this extraordinary autumn is worth mentioning: it's the best beginning of autumm people remember and swimming in this hazardous ocean in october is truly extraordinary!
Two sunny activities make me feel like a virgin: learning to make cookies, bread and some pastry wonders - for the time being, faaaaar away from being wonders, anyway i've been more of a baking assistant and it's high time i change this role.
Baking implies patience, will and performing an-almost-sexual-intercourse with that magic, growing, lively being: Dough.
Mr. Dough Sánchez, Mr. Dough Wilson ... it's definitely a he and at times a punk, at times a gentleman, at times a teenage drama. I proudly show you my first cookies in the pic attached: butter stars with plums' jam. Something tells me some stars up there wink a eye on me all the time.
Baking implies patience, will and performing an-almost-sexual-intercourse with that magic, growing, lively being: Dough.
Mr. Dough Sánchez, Mr. Dough Wilson ... it's definitely a he and at times a punk, at times a gentleman, at times a teenage drama. I proudly show you my first cookies in the pic attached: butter stars with plums' jam. Something tells me some stars up there wink a eye on me all the time.
The second virginal task is biking around places both familiar and foreign: 20 years of absence make a difference in cities' lanscapes, in roads and intersections, in slopes, hills and sightseeings. I'm 20 years older than that girl who would weekly ride a green GAC with no gears, and, to men's astonishment, at quite an impressive level. However, sights have not changed substantially, except for the better equipments of the fellow bikers ... i was the only girl on pedals then and i'm
the only woman on pedals now. I cannot say i dislike this, somehow i feel unique, as if performing, deep-breathing, heart-beating, sweating and panting with all the female cyclists worldwide.
the only woman on pedals now. I cannot say i dislike this, somehow i feel unique, as if performing, deep-breathing, heart-beating, sweating and panting with all the female cyclists worldwide.
Friday, October 14, 2011
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