viernes, 11 de diciembre de 2009

Hay quienes creen que saber escribir solo se trata de poner las comas en el lugar correcto…


"I got about a hundred pages to read for history on Monday," he said. "How 'bout writing a composition for me, for English? I'll be up the creek if I don't get the goddam thing in by Monday, the reason I ask. How 'bout it?"

It was very ironical. It really was.

"I'm the one flunking out of this goddam place, and you're asking me to write you a goddam composition," I said.

...

"What on?"

"Anything. Anything descriptive. A room. Or a house. Or something you once lived in or something - you know. Just as long as it's descriptive as hell... Just don't do it too good, is all," he said. "That sonuvabitch Hartzell thinks you're a hot-shot in English, and he knows you're my roommate. So I mean don't stick all the commas and stuff in the right places.

That's something else that gives me a royal pain. I mean if you're good at writing compositions and somebody starts talking about commas. Stradlater was always doing that. He wanted you to think that the only reason he was lousy at writing compositions was because he stuck all the commas in the wrong place."

Holden Caufield, The catcher in the rye.

martes, 1 de diciembre de 2009

I

No conozco lugares sin horizonte, pero a veces el cielo se une con el mar. Porque no encuentro razón por la cual la luz parece no atravesarme y si me siento no peso, pero si frío.

II

Tengo un ojo alerta y el otro distraído, por si elegís venir. Pero los árboles tienen años en líneas y yo las líneas que escribo. Por eso que nadie ve que soy anciana y todo anciano un niño.


S.G

Al final de cada renglón

en cualquier caso

estoy

con la espalda fuerte

mi peso y el de vos

temerosa noche sin estrellas

es negra por dos.

S.G