" We come, we wander . Odysseys Our stories are more accurately Aeneid. It must always return to these ancient legends: a home is destroyed (that Troy is ours, whatever) ... (1) "
The only recollection I have of Jaime Semprun is that of a concert last year on the storied ranks the philosophy class at the Hotel , there are forty-five years ago, bigre.
prégnant distant memory but because our teacher, a disciple of Alain, not bad man residing in , could not stand the light-wisps. Abruptly interrupting his monologue - even as we strive, dazed, blinking, reconstruct in mente the tree-in-the-yard-high school-as-he-is-this-to- us to through-the-window in the prism of his Abschattungen Husserlian - he admonished:
Semprun, shut up!
Semprun was silent. An hour later it started again.
Thus the name of Jaime Semprun for me and perhaps for others, is now inextricably mixed with the runoff of involuntary memory in which the cascading cave Plato, the categorical imperative and the evil genius .
The following year, we saw more Semprun to Hotels, he was going to look for other teachers - He found Guy Debord, I do not know if he thought a more accommodating aggregated to the old philosophy. Still later he had his own school, this called the Encyclopedia nuisance. And c ike my classmates, I think I read what he wrote - well, The abyss is repopulated . I too had looked for teachers - one found in abundance at the time.
And then in the '90s, someone invited me to a meeting - a group which, it seems, interest me. I went there not, I had supped, schools. I lost maybe a chance to see my little friend, and now I regret it a bit.
And then in the '90s, someone invited me to a meeting - a group which, it seems, interest me. I went there not, I had supped, schools. I lost maybe a chance to see my little friend, and now I regret it a bit.
On August 3, Jaime Semprun died - that is what we see as age nagging you, you begin to greet the ghosts on street corners. He founded the Editions republish these days this short text and beautiful Andromache, I think you , he had written for the first anniversary of the death of his mother, Loleh Bellon.
"We do we will see on earth. Between Quai de l'Horloge and the tip of the Vert-Galant, we have made some not together, leaving the road to a crossroads sentences with each word ... (1) "
Roberto Arlt, the man who wrote The Seven crazy , published from 1928 to 1933 these chronic , Aguafuerte Porteñas in the newspaper El Mundo . These are the years of the infamous Decada , infamous decade following the coup condition fascist General Uriburu - electoral fraud, political gangsterism, industrialization, urbanization and poverty rampant. Years of bitterness and disillusionment which are also those where Buenos Aires is surrounded by vast suburbs and workers haussmanise its center, ripping open the old neighborhoods: completion of Diagonals, cutting through the Avenida 9 de Julio, enlargement Corrientes ...
Pass in vignettes Arlt the common people of this disaster, the owner Thief bricks, the Grim Fouineur the Sick Business or Man cap, which never sinks, regardless of the events to which it is mixed with disorders, the most interesting types of wildlife swelling ...
Osvaldo Pugliese - Arrabal / Faubourg (Jose Pascual)
Uploaded by 2009periquita
Uploaded by 2009periquita
On different modes - lyric from a satire for the other - these two books talk about the same thing - urban drift, the slow and regressive promenade where all is allegory. It's the same city made of many disappointments of dreams. Semprun's Paris, which runs this river which binds me a lot, that of having had early dealings with it and not another and where, within walking distance to the right of the walker, creaks softly chain forged in the fourteenth century, at dusk, united Tournelle the Louvre to the Tour de Nesle (1). And the Flores Arlt - that Flores was fine, that Flores was formerly vast! Everywhere the wind rose ... Ten blocks from Rivadavia began the Pampas ... We believed in love. The girls were crying and singing The rental of Bequeló . Tuberculosis was a disease virtually unknown and terrible ...
A year ago, Lautaro street, you could see a gazebo on the windows multicolored completely broken. Besides, there was a red wind, a wind all red, romantic and lined with ivy. On windy days, a pine rocking left cupola in the air.
The wind, the gazebo, pine no more. The weather took everything ... The piece of land now costs a hundred pesos. Before, it cost five and we lived happier. Certainly, we have the pride of having grown, yes, but happiness does not exist. Carried away by the devil (2).
(1) Jaime Semprun - Andromache, I think of you! pp.11, 14, then 12. Editions of the Encyclopedia of nuisances, 2011.
(2) Roberto Arlt - The wind Flores, E in the high-Buenos Aires , pp. 22-25. Trad. Antonia Garcia Castro, eds. Asphalt, 2010.
can be found here the English version (with a touch of Argentine Lunfardo ) of Aguafuerte Porteñas , and appropriate music here, care Editions asphalt.
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