Thursday, October 29, 2009

Graiglist [True]Tales: The Mask withGraiglist [True]Tales: The Mask without a Face or New York for Changeout a Face or New York for Change




It is not a reality show but this is the real Mike Bloomberg in a revealing scary photo published by the New York Post.




Dante 's Face exhibited a very strange and unexpected rictus of pain, his lips exposed the infernal feelings of his guts. I was able to read all this from Dante's eloquent silence, it was the mere description of the most human incredulity, but at the same time, it was a hellish expression of astonishment.... What a sensation!
D: "Davanti alla porta [in front of the door] of the inferno, John; his name is already posted all over the place and in every blackberry and other obnoxious devices imported from the deepest circle in Hell?
JM: What are you talking about? We are not in any door of hell?!, we have just walked a few blocks from Columbus circle.... and what we are looking at now it is just the entrance of the Trump tower... give me a break, and just tell me who is that person whose name is "all over the place", perhaps his is from one of those circles of Minos... je je je

D: Look him there the door of hell
JM: Where, that thingy; do you mean the poster over that wall. Now, that is not a door, that is a poster, let me read it....
And just when I read the poster and [I] was about to comment, Dante showed me in his iPhone the following YouTube....




JM: Oh yes! definitely Dante, We are at the doors of Hell, I can Imagine! four [4] years more with a D-minus graded mayor! What will happen with the hospitals, how much more tragic traffic and parking tickets fines we, New-yorkers would have to pay to the city? Where are we going to live? How much more money we will have to pay at MacDonald, or at Burger king, for those trans-fatted hamburgers that only God knows what are made of....?

D: God doesn't need to know about what your hamburgers are made of, but the evildoers know very well that; however, what God might end doing is depicted very well in here....
And once again he, Dante, Extended his left arm and used his smart phone to "pull" the following video... [be careful it is a little strong for young people!]




D: Even though LaRouche is very controversial, he has shown abundant evidence to substantiate what he has stated in here...

video


D: In the end, only New-yorkers, will decide, this November. There is hope for our humanity for this November Elections. Look at the Door of hell once more...
JM: No, no! there are too many, there are "Bloomdoors" all over the place. Dante, I believe you now, I was blind but now I can see, we are at the doors of the mere inferno.... Let us Vote for Thompson is time to change! I don't want to live the hell out of New York...



by ◙ JMK ◙ NYC ◙ 10-29-09

Wednesday, October 28, 2009

Tuesday, October 27, 2009

Radiolocución En Nueva York


Está es una foto que salió publicada en el que entonces fuera el Diario "Noticias del Mundo." Yo y Randy fuimos invitados para una entrevista por la redacción, con motivo del primer curso de Radiolocución en Español que se ofreció en NY por la entidad sin fines de lucro que yo había fundado, o sea el "Centro Para el Desarrollo Integral del Ser Humano" - Plow of the Sea Inc. Randy hizo un gran trabajo como Profesor y sobretodo agilizó las buenas relaciones públicas de la empresa. Ahora Randy con su enorme calidad y talento deleita día a dia, a sus innumerables radioyentes y televidentes en Lima, Perú.

Poemarium: La Niña de Guatemala


Lengua de Lava

Mis Versos
por José Martí


Estos son mis versos. Son como son. A nadie los pedí prestados. Mientras no pude encerrar íntegras mis visiones en una forma adecuada a ellas, dejé volar mis visiones. ¡Oh, Cuánto áureo amigo que ya nunca ha vuelto! Pero la poesía tiene su honradez, y yo he querido siempre ser honrado. Recortar versos, también sé, pero no quiero. Así como cada hombre trae su fisonomía, cada inspiración trae su lenguaje. Amo las sonoridades difícites, el verso escultórico, vibrante como la porcetana, volador como un ave, ardiente y arrollador como la lengua de lava. El verso ha de ser como una espada reluciente, que deja a los espectadores la memoria de un guerrero que va caminando al cielo, y al envinarla en el sol, se rompe en las alas. Tajos son éstos de mis propias entrañas - mis gerreros. - Ninguno me ha satido recalentado, artifcioso, recompuesto, de la mente; sino como las lágrimas salen de los ojos y la sangre sale a borbotones de la herida.


No zurcí de éste y aquél, sino sajé en mí mismo. Van escritos, no en tinta de academia, sino en mi propia sangre. Lo que aquí doy a ver to he visto antes (yo to he visto, yo), y he visto mucho más, que huyó sin darme tiempo a que copiará su rasgos. - De la extrañeza, singularidad, prisa, amontonamiento, arrebato de mis visiones, yo mismo tuve la culpa, que las hecho surgir ante mí como las copio. De la copia yo soy el responsabte. Hallé quebrados los vestidos, y otros no y use de estos colores. Ya sé que no son usados. Amo las sonoridades dilcíles y la sinceridad, aunque pueda parecer brutal. Todo lo que han de decir, ya lo sé, y me tengo contestado. He querido ser leal, y si pequé, no me averguenzo de haber pecado.


Extracto del libro de Antología - José Martí, pg. 373

Monday, October 26, 2009

EcoPolitical Possibilia - All Possibilities Included Since or Perhaps Before Goldsmith

Oliver Goldsmith depicted in an oils on canvas by his friend, the Painter Sir Joshua Reynolds
Source: The National Portrait Gallery of London

“Every absurdity has a champion to defend it”
Oliver Goldsmith



In a monument at the Gothic church of England, called simply as "Westminster Abbey", more formally known as "The Collegiate Church of St Peter at Westminster", there is a epitaph that reads:

“Oliver Goldsmith: A Poet, Naturalist, and Historian, who left scarcely any style of writing untouched, and touched nothing that he did not adorn. Of all the passions, whether smiles where to move or tears, a powerful yet gentle master. In genius, vivid, versatile, sublime. In style, clear, elevated, elegant.”


More than two hundred years after of his dead, this inscription could be perhaps more appropriately enhanced by explaining how those writings of this "jack of all trades,” have continued exerting considerable influence over the world of ideas about fiction and reality or both since their time to nowadays. For instance, in The New York Times, on December 4 of 1994, William Safire [he has very recently passed away this last September 27, 2009],the Pulitzer Prize-Winning political columnist and also the former Speechwriter of President Nixon, referred
in his article, "On Language; Newtonian Linguistics" that “Oliver Goldsmith wrote in 'The Citizen of the world in 1762': 'It is ... difficult to induce a number of free beings to co-operate for their mutual benefit'. The aforementioned Safire's article can be used as a small example of the influence of this Poet exerts even today.

I should mention that when I was researching in the World Wide Web lately, I have found 1,530,000 documents or entries for "Oliver Goldsmith" using [the search Engine] Google, comparing to a 32,460 documents containing this same name using Yahoo back in 1997. This should give the reader an idea about the ubiquitous and increasingly presence of Oliver Goldsmith also on the web.

Goldsmith's most known poem, "The Deserted Village", has gained its own particular merits too. With its famous first evocative line, “Sweet Auburn! Loveliest village of the plain ... It has inspired many and, a diverse type of individuals to make that idyllic village somehow true again; this is the case of Mt. Auburn, whose slogan is, “A Rich Past. An Exciting Future” and its Community Council is inviting the public to visit its town, I must confess that I already have separated my ticket to Cincinnati, Ohio, I want to live that Goldsmith's poem too, paradoxically eluding not a deserted village, but the gentrified city, i.e., New York.

In any event, who was Oliver Goldsmith? He was born in Ireland, Pallas, county of Longford, sometime between 1728 and 1730, there is not any assurance over this fact, many sources inform [us] that the date was, November 10. On the point in where all these chronicles coincide at is that he was not too good-looking, besides from the fact that he had come to this world with already weird features to say the least, Goldsmith contracted Small Pox that worsen his physiognomical attributes unfortunately even more.

His friend and virtuoso painter, Reynolds, could not eliminate the harshness of his grotesque aspect even though there are accounts that he tried to do so very hard when he painted his portrait (illustrated above); on the other hand, Samuel Johnson, that notable head figure of the English literature of the 18th Century, would called
Goldsmith, Monky’s face. Thus, this ungainly boy was perceived by [his] peers as “Stupid and Blockhead.” These happenings on his life determined that Goldsmith would grow with an understandable lack of self-confidence, especially amount eminent people; although, he could, and knew how to, be joyful in the taverns. The Scottish biographer James Boswell, — of whom many experts have said it is the greatest of all biographers — referred in his life of [Samuel] Johnson to the conspicuous Goldsmith’s inability to be articulated within conversations.

Anyway, after his schooling at his
village [most probable in Lissoy] he, with the help of his father, attended Trinity College in Dublin; yet, he was forced to work as sizar, i.e., as one who gets free housing and the residues of the common kitchen, in exchange he or she does servile tasks. This person must also wear a garb, a custom that identifies his inferior status. The Calvin Theatre Company suggests that one of the few pieces of consistency through the whole life of Goldsmith was that in the college-entrance examination list (1745) he was at the Bottom; and when he finally graduated (in 1749, as B. A.) he was also at the bottom list, well what about that for being consistent as a student.

After two years of his graduation, he applied to the holy order, but he was rejected by the Bishop of Elphin. Then he left Ireland permanently and started to study Medicine at Edinburgh. For unknown reasons he left his studies and began his own peregrination through Europe:
Holland, France, Switzerland and Italy. He returned to England, without any money, and practically in ruins. He tried to attract patients but he failed, perhaps his semblance did not help him much either; then he reluctantly started to work as hack writer, he wrote Translations, Abridgments, History, Plays, Novels, and Poems, Periodicals (at The Bee) after that point of his life, he would live only by his pen.

Doctor Goldsmith, this son of an Anglo-Irish clergyman, gained notoriety in his times with his book titled “A inquire into the present State of Polite Learning in Europe." (1759) Oliver Goldsmith would meet Samuel Johnson by his mid-thirties, and Johnson helped him out in more than one difficulty. His first play, a comedy, “The Good Natur’d Man”was not a success, but his second attempt became one of the favorite plays of the day and remained popular for generations. Thus until his last day on April 4th of 1774, he had lived a generous life, with all the dissipation and gambling that he could afford or not. In fact, the records show that at the moment of leaving [‘physically’] from this world, he was in debt by the considerable sum of 2000 pounds; and yet he had gifted to each and “ev’ry” one of us, a extraordinary treasure: “The Deserted Village.”

This Poem [published in 1770] is about the depopulation of that nostalgic and “Sweet Auburn,” an Irish village whose inhabitants cannot longer afford to live there anymore. With this poem, Goldsmith demonstrates the style that he would have managed to developed through his entire life as a writer, and that now serves us well to characterize him. Using a seemingly natural formal balance and antithesis, Goldsmith would extol the virtues of a rural life almost forgotten or lost, on one hand and; on the other, the Doctor would condemned those wealthy landlords. He achieved in this poem — as I understand it, the eternity, because this poem is not only about the meticulously work of filigree that Goldsmith, giving honor to his last name, and without doubt produced, by that excellent parallelism of his syntax, i.e., adjective-noun construction for each adjective-noun; the prepositional phrase balanced against phrases with equal intensity but with opposite meaning. That symmetry is constant and harmonic, it is a musical cadence to our ears. It is also about reaching a decent and human social living, it is a protest against industrialism and gentrification, it is about justice. The Auburn’s landscape is presented as if were the mere achievable paradise here on this earth, one could read it like following the enigmatic sweetness of it meaningful waves embedded in the poem's metric.

The "Deserted Village", is a prophetic poem that could have or has a therapeutic effect in the avid reader. Evenly anyone can experience an epiphany of the sorts, a feeling of revelation by reading it, there is "this or that", an inevitable desire and need [that the reader feels] to be in that village, to breath that pure air, and abandon one’s own city at once and forever. This poem is a symphony, and has the melody of a premonition. Its "music" talks about beauty, the kind of beauty that in the words of yet another great poet, John Keats, would be, “Beauty is truth, truth is beauty,”—that is all Ye know on earth, and all ye need to know.”

Returning to the meaning of the poem, the author is expressing, the change of one lifestyle, to other, for which he seems not too please about it. The lyricism of Goldsmith today sounds much louder, sweeter and better; especially, in these days in which we are facing gigantic, almost tragic, challenges of not only have to deal with the climate change, the melting of icebergs, the overpopulation, the viruses of all kind, but yet more disgusting also with have to cope with those wealthy, obstinate, and megalomaniac beasts, the CEOs and CFOs, and other "philantropits" who arrogantly think and dearly believe that they have all the answers, [that they] have all the rights to control and buy other people's lives or cause them pain if they want to do so. Excuse me! but I am going away, 'cause I prefer to live in a "deserted village".

Sources


Bloom, Harold, ed. Oliver Goldsmith. Modem Critical Views. New York:
Chelsea House, 1987
• Buckler, John, Bennet D. Hill, John P. McKay. A History of Western Society. Boston: Houghton Mifflin, 1983.
• Danziger, Marlies K. Goldsmith and Sheridan. New York: Frederick Ungar, 1978.
• Dixon, Peter. Oliver Goldsmith Revisited. Twayne’s English Authors Ser. Boston: Twayne, 1991.
• Gray, Peter. Age of Enlightenment. New York:
Time, 1966.
• Pagliaro, Harold E. Major English Writers of the Eighteenth Century. New York:
Free Press, 1969.
• Quintana, Ricardo. Oliver Goldsmith: A Georgian Study. Louis Kronenberger, gen. ed. Master of World Lit. Ser. New York: Macmillan, 1967.
• Untermeyer, Louis. Lives of the Poets: The Story of One Thousand Years of English and American Poetry. New York: Simon and Schuster, 1959.


Anotó El Primer Gol en El Primer Campeonato Mundial de Fútbol



En estas fotos de archivo vemos al Ingeniero, Futbolista y Direngente Deportivo, Luis Emilio De Souza Ferreira Huby, quien como Teodoro "Lolo" Fernández Meyzán, fue sin duda uno de los primeros ídolos del Fútbol Peruano y como Lolo sólo jugó por un cuadro toda su vida. En su caso él mismo fundaría La "U" es decir el Club Universitario de Deportes de Lima.


Me cuentan que murió en La Punta, El Callao, casí cumple los 100 años, le faltaba tan sólo unos días, para ser más exactos a una semana de su onomástico. El sensiblemente falleció el 29 de setiembre del 2008, y ya sus familiares le iban a preparar la fiesta por el Centenario pues, él nació en Lima, un 6 de octubre de año de 1908. Hace un poco más de un año que "Don Lucho" dicen que nos ha dejado, pero por acá nosotros y desde "El Arado" recordamos que es lo que al decir del buen periodista Cubano, Luis Ortega, ha quedado para siempre en nuestra memoria y como una muestra más del autentico patrimonio del legendario Fútbol Peruano, así es que vemos a "Don Lucho" y es así que conmemoramos los parajes de su trayectoria.


Primero, de él, nos queda, ante todo y antes que nada, el primer gol que un equipo peruano anotara en un Campeonato Mundial de Fútbol. Sí, fue en el Primer Mundial celebrado en Uruguay en 1930, el delantero izquierdo De Souza Ferreira, del Perú, marcó el primero y único tanto peruano en ese partido que perdió Perú por 3 a 1 contra Rumania. Cabe remarcar además que Perú jugó con 10 hombres, ya que fue expulsado un jugador peruano, me parece que fue Plácido Galindo, por un arbitro de nacionalidad Chilena. Por otra parte "el ingeniero del Fútbol" también innaguró el estadio Centenario de Montevideo en ese campeonato cuando Perú enfrentó al Equipo del Uruguay. "Don Lucho", al quien se le puede apreciar en cuclillas en la primera posición comenzado desde la derecha, en la foto de la selección Peruana [en la parte inmediatamente superior] que enfrentara a la del Uruguay, se pusó por primera vez la casaquilla del equipo crema, en el año 1926 y no vistió nunca más ninguana otra.

Ese equipo se llamaba en ese entoces La Federación Universitaria, estaba organizado por un club formado por profesores y estudiantes universitarios que pertenecían a la Universidad Mayor de San Marcos. En 1931 El equipo tubo problemas por el nombre y se vieron forzados a cambiarlo, y por supuesto, De Souza estaba allí en ese año de 1933 para que ahora y siempre se le recuerde como uno de los fundadores de Club Universitario de Deportes.

El maestro pierde el Primer Clásico del Fútbol Peruano, "El Clásico de los Bastonazos" de 1928, pero un año más tarde fue él un factor determinate para que La "U" gane su primer Campeonato Nacional.

Esta es la foto del Campeón Nacional de 1929

En su larga trayectoria como futbolista, vistió la casquilla nacional y representó dignamente al Perú en muchas oportunidades entre 1929 y 1934, en el '34 también fue campeón nacional y así se despide como jugador y comienza a ejercer su profesión de Ingeniero Civil; mas él nunca dejaría de estar ligado al deporte y más que ninguna otra cosa al Club de sus amores, al cual él viera prácticamente "nacer". Ocupó altos cargos en la administración del club, llegando a ser el segundo vice-presidente de La "U", como Ingeniero civil colaboró construyendo varias instalaciones, principalmente el muro periférico del estadio "Lolo Fernández. Alquien dijo por ahí que "Don Lucho" fue el primero en anotar y el último de su generación en desperdirse de nuestro "campo de juego", pero sobretodo él es el que más parece haber aportado al Fútbol Peruano, tanto como Futbolista, como dirigente y también como Ingeniero, pero mucho más importante él ha sabido vivir como un ser humano que tiene que servir de ejemplo para todos los peruanos, especialmente para los dirigentes actuales que han puesto al Fútbol Peruano por los suelos últimamente.

Tuesday, October 06, 2009

The Face of Pokerface

video

The Hymn of Cymraeg: Calon Lân


Some time in the second half of the 1800s, the lyrics of Calon Lân, the Welsh hymn was written by Gwyrosydd. Gwyrosydd is the bardic name chosen by Daniel James, who, not surprisingly, is best known today because he put the words to a tune created by John Hughes, a not too well known composer born in Dowl­ais, Wales. Daniel James was a poet, and of course, a hymn writer too, he is remembered mostly because this mere hymn. Calon Lân is perhaps one of the most popular Welsh traditional hymns and song and when people sing it, they do it only in original Welsh, very very, rarely this hymn is sung in English. Here up to these times, incidentally while we are the involuntary spectators of the greediest moments of hour western civilization, and the most profound clash of our values, come to us the voice and music of "Calon Lân" from the feelings and ethics of those people from a not too far away past of Wales. In here, I put the lyrics, which I have borrowed from Wikipedia and two translated versions of it, in English. In additions, below a "YouTube" featuring the sensational talent of Faryl Smith, an extraordinary 13 year-old Mezzo-Soprano. Therefore, read the lyrics and if you like the words and their meaning, then let's sing together with Faryl our pure heart forever... at least in Welsh for this time.


Lyrics of Calon Lân (A Pure Heart)



Nid wy'n gofyn bywyd moethus,
Aur y byd na'i berlau mân:
Gofyn 'rwyf am galon hapus,
Calon onest, calon lân.

Calon lân yn llawn daioni,
Tecach yw na'r lili dlos:
Dim ond calon lân all ganu
Canu'r dydd a chanu'r nos.
Pe dymunwn olud bydol, Hedyn buan ganddo sydd; Golud calon lân, rinweddol, Yn dwyn bythol elw fydd.
(Chorus)
Hwyr a bore fy nymuniad
Gwyd i'r nef ar adain cân
Ar i Dduw, er mwyn fy Ngheidwad,
Roddi i mi galon lân.

(Chorus)
Welsh
Alternative words:
  • Verse 1, line 3: Gofyn wyf am fywyd hapus
  • Verse 2, line 2: Chwim adenydd iddo sydd
  • Verse 3, line 2: Esgyn ar adenydd cân
  • Chorus, line 3: Does ond calon lân all ganu
I don't ask for a luxurious life,
the world's gold or its fine pearls,
I ask for a happy heart,
an honest heart, a pure heart.

A pure heart full of goodness
Is fairer than the pretty lily,
None but a pure heart can sing,
Sing in the day, sing in the night.
If I wished for worldly wealth,
It would swiftly go to seed;
The riches of a virtuous, pure heart
Will bear eternal profit.
(Chorus)
Evening and morning, my wish
Rising to heaven on the wing of song
To God, for the sake of my Saviour,
Give me a pure heart.
(Chorus)
English translation
I’d not ask a life that’s easy,
Gold and pearls so little mean,
Rather seek a heart that’s joyful,
Heart that’s honest, heart that’s clean.
(Chorus)
Heart that’s clean and filled with virtue,
Fairer far than lilies white,
Only pure hearts praise God truly,
Praise him all the day and night.
Why should I seek earthly treasures,
On swift wings they fly away,
Pure clean hearts bring greater riches
That for life eternal stay.
(Chorus)
Dawn and sunset still I’m searching,
Reaching on a wing of song,
Give me Lord, through Christ my Saviour
That clean heart for which I long.
(Chorus)
Alternative Translation in rhyme (by permission of author Malcolm Cowen )






Due to restrictions, I needed to find a video of the video. This below it is fine, and you will enjoy the voice of Faryl Smith.



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