Calma?

Qué hago yo
escribiendo borradores en métrica moderna
como tratando de atrapar las sensaciones
en palabras en este aire virtual
en un intento de hacer
que mi conciencia las conciba
como mi inconsciente parece hacerlo
cuando, de repente
por unos segundos,
siento tu olor
como una prolongación mental
de tu presencia;
como un eco de ese espacio
entre tu boca y mi boca,
entre un beso y otro beso.
Al final no es secreto,
que a mi mente le encanta el drama
y a mí, la calma
y en ese desencuentro entre deseos
habita el deseo de reencontrarme
una vez
(y otra vez)
con tu cuerpo y tu mente
y tu no-drama
y tu calma
mi vida, con calma
que nada hace falta si estamos juntitos bailando.

I'm trying this new thing
where I fuck up a little more.
It's horrible.
It sucks
a lot.
But I'm learning to live this way now
With more regrets of doing
and less caution
and more saying "screw it"
and then fucking things up a little,
and then trying to get some sleep,
and maybe taking some comfort in knowing
that I'm a little bit more human
than I was the day before
I fucked up
a bit.

(:

(But still, damn it.)

Conversaciones, hoy.

Sobre cómo la posibilidad de pausar y sentarse a pensar (casi) sin límite de tiempo cuál es la mejor respuesta altera (¿y empobrece?) el diálogo. Problemas de los millenialls.

Editar las marañas mentales secretadas impulsivamente una y otra vez y compartir sólo frases coherentes, para descubrirnos en la vida real como seres indecisos, incoherentes, comunes. 

Y también:
Audios que no son otra cosa que monólogos internos ininterrumpidos documentados, de mayor valor porque hay un otre potencial para escucharlos.
Audios que van a mil, que dejan libre la maraña de ideas multiplicándose y creciendo arrollando a su paso al sentido común y a las pausas. Y a las respiraciones profundas.
Arrollando a su paso toda posibilidad de procesamiento mental y duda.
La expresión de la duda en voz alta que ahoga el real lugar a la duda introspectiva.

Audios que apuran opiniones externas,
y dudas que no son, dudas que no nacen a tiempo, dudas erradas, dudas truncas.
Manifestaciones en voz alta de marañas mentales que
invitan a editores a tejerles
encima sus propios mambos.
Qué quilombo.

Entendiendo la poesía en métrica posmoderna

Me puse a volcar una reflexión en palabras y la tenía tan inmadura que sólo podía escribirla en ese formato. Como que mi propia cabeza se interrumpe y eso se traduce en los cortes a la oración ("enter" del teclado).

Eso, más que interrumpirse, es valorar y elegir los espacios del silencio, las formas del silencio, y también el ritmo, obvio, el momento de la respiración y el momento del habla y de la atención, las sonoridades. Eso es poesía.

Don't settle for good enough if you feel you can do better.
Push yourself in those directions your courage points to now and then.
Drown the scared voices in your head.
It's never such a big deal.
Live life. Just keep living.
Make choices (life is choices). Fuck up, try again, do better next time.
You are still worthy of love and applause either way.

I dunno dude.
What's the worst that could happen?

Green brothers on somethings and nothings.

For me doing nothing means not making an active choice to do something. Generally, in my case, this means after the kids go to sleep I scroll through Netflix for like 20 minutes trying to find something to watch and either do find something to watch or else go upstairs to read a book.
Doing nothing can be lovely, of course, but generally I don't actively choose to do nothing, it's sort of like a passive thing that happens. It feels like the default state of affairs, or the natural way of being: doing something feels like making a choice and doing nothing feels like not making one.
Slightly off topic, but there are many places in my life that feel like this, for instance, everyday I take a medication for my mental illness, but taking the medication feels like doing something and not taking it feels like doing nothing. And the same is true of making the act of choice to get a flu shot or to engage in philantropy or to plant seeds in my garden. In all this cases doing nothing feels like the default, it feels like it isn't a choice, and I look for voices telling me to do nothing I will find them. There are plenty of sources out there telling me that my medication won't work, or isn't worth the side effect, or that the flu shot is dangerous, or that philantropy never does any good, or that gardening is a waste of time. They may not be the most accurate or authoritative sources: the flu shot is safe, I'm definitely better off taking my medication, philantropy can be an excellent way to improve people's life, and gardening is only a waste of time if you don't enjoy it. But because passive choices feel natural to me, I'm vulnerable to missinformation telling me that those choices are virtuous. I struggle to make active choices every day but the thing is passive choices are also choices. Not taking medication that has been prescribed to me is a choice and an unwise one; staying home to watch Netflix is also a choice for me, sometimes a wise one, other times less so. The truth is most nights I need to be at home, in a kind of metaphysical quiet resting and recovering, but I need to see those times as the choices they are rather than some default or natural setting, which they aren't.
Years ago, a mayoral candidate in Birmingham, Alabama had a campaing slogan that's become kind of a catch phrase in our family. The slogan was: "let's DO something!". Not like something prudent or something good, just something. Now, of course, this is a horrible campaing slogan, and indeed the candidate in question would go on to be convicted in a huge bribery scandal, but lately I've been thinking a lot about that slogan. Like, while we are here we're going to do something, a lot of somethings, actually, and doing nothing is not a way out of the responsibilities and opportunities of personhood.
Whether I'm playing board games with my family or watching the recording of a podcast I love, my days end up better when I remember that I'm not choosing between doing something or doing nothing, I'm choosing which something to do.

-John Green.

I agree that part of what doing nothing is, whatever that is, is that it's a passive choice. But  I don't think that's the whole thing.
For me, scrolling through twitter is nothing because it's the default that I end up with when there is no structure left, when all of the things run out, it's what I go to. But for me taking my medicine is the defalut choice, there are lots of things that we don't really choose to do, that are not nothing, like work being a pretty big one. That's how I do like 95% of the things that I do. I make the non-choice of something. Does that make sense? I hope so.
Ok, I'm just working this out right now, as I'm recording, here's how I'm trying to understand it: you have active and passive, and you have nothing and something. You have active nothings, where you choose to do nothing and that's good. You have passive nothings, which is like the worst thing, where you end up choosing to do nothing just because there's nothing else to do and that doesn't feel good. There's active somethings, which is hard to do. And then there is the best thing, there's passive somethings. It feels way better for me to use the limited mental energy that I do have to create more passive somethings. I'm just gonna be annoyed if everything is an active choice, I don't have it in me. This is most of the appeal of a meal kit delivery service for me, like I have to do it or it's gonna go bad, but I wouldn't make the active choice to do it cause it's just too hard and then it's already 6:30 in your Uber Eats and Krispy Kreme.
"I'm not choosing between doing something or doing nothing, I'm choosing which something to do." This is absolutely true, but I can't imagine the world this way, it sounds exhausting. So, with the choice-making energy that I have, I feel like it's better to do everything I can to set up this passive somethings. I want to make some active choices, absolutely, but I want to also be realistic about the fact that I just don't have that many in me in a given day. Like, as an example, what if every tuesday is call-your-mom day, or draw-something day, or do-a-podcast-with-your-friend day. What I need most days is to have my non-choice be not nothing. How do you do this? How do you set up passive somethings? I don't know, I've had a lot of practice, and I'm still not great at it, like you don't want to see my youtube history, I watch a lot of lock-picking lawyer videos for some reason. I mean this guy carved a pencil from a pencil from a pencil, so... I did not actively choose to watch that video... as great as it is, ot's a passive nothing, let's be honest with ourselves.  

 
-Hank Green.

Disponibilidad en tiempos modernos

Nos acerca estar al alcance de un whatsapp en cualquier momento de cualquier día? Nos acerca poder expresarnos cuánto nos extrañamos en cualquier momento, sin tener idea del contexto en que el otro está recibiendo ahora mismo ese cargado mensaje? Nos acerca tanta posibilidad de constante conexión? Nuestras neuróticas mentes bailan y lloran con semejante posibilidad.

Ese otro quizá te extraña un montón. Quizá te extraña un montón ahora, quizá se extrañan en simultáneo. Pero quizá no. Quizá el otro no te extraña ahora, ya. Quizá se extrañan a destiempo. (Quizá no te extraña).

Me parece que al final es más disruptiva la honestidad a medias de un visto clavado. El falso amor de un emoticón no sentido. La respuesta rápida a un mensaje lleno de expectativas por falta de tiempo o pericia tecnológica.

Me pone tan intranquila que me fuerces a ignorarte por falta de contexto cariñoso en mi ahora. Tu ahora no es mi ahora.

Sin quererlo perdimos el derecho a elegir cuándo conectarnos. Nos obligamos a reaccionar, con la mente nublada y el cuerpo cansado, a mensajes cargados de necesidades y deseos invisibles.
No era desafío suficiente la comunicación humana cara a cara, cuerpo a cuerpo? Y después boca oído, respiración a respiración? Obsesión con agregar niveles de dificultad a la interacción humana cuando hace siglos que se nos escapan hasta las cosas más básicas. Y tropezamos con las mismas piedras, una y otra vez, en todos los idiomas.

Estar siempre conectados... qué exceso, no?

P.D.: Otro efecto adverso de la pseudo-disponibilidad constante del otro: