Mar Paz

Sobre los personajes que imagino.

[mar-paz]

Cuanto más altos estamos, más debemos bajarnos hacia nuestros inferiores.

Cicerón

[mar-paz]

Las cartas nacidas de mi regazo aprenden a volar algo mejor y a un peregrino arrepentido se le ha visto bajar en ascensor

Gerardo Diego, Mirador

[mar-paz]

Sonora dicción de la muerte y sus acólitos procesionan los fallecidos en la espiral galáctica, hacia los densos puntos de atracción masiva que engullen hasta la luz, ese punto oscuro que, recientemente, los matemáticos descubrieron finito. Un lugar que se llena y no recibe a nadie más.

Felipe Fernández Sánchez, La parva parca

[mar-paz]

Sensibles a todo viento y bajo todos los cielos, poetas, nunca cantemos la vida de un mismo pueblo ni la flor de un solo huerto. Que sean todos los pueblos y todos los huertos nuestro

León Felipe, Romero sólo

[mar-paz]

Ya mi lluvia es diluvio, y no miraré el rayo del sol sobre mi arca, porque ha de quedar roto mi corazón la noche cuadragésima; no guardan mis pupilas ni un matiz remoto de la lumbre solar que tostó mis espigas; mi vida es solo una prolongación de exequias bajo las cataratas enemigas.

Ramón López Velarde, Hoy como nunca, me enamoras y me entristeces

[teaganwhite]

“Cinder”, 6"x6", gouache & watercolor on paper. For Enormous Tiny Art 23, opening tomorrow at Nahcotta Gallery!

[forafricans]

Women relax while waiting for customers at a hair salon in Juba’s busiest market, Konyo Konyo. Juba, South Sudan. ©Sara Hylton

[insomne-sonolienta]

Zonzos de calor y noche, pasan cuartos.             Cuartos…             Cuartos… Cuartos de la gente pobre con sus chiquillos descalzos. Cuartos donde no entra el sol, que el sol es aristocrático.Mujeres semidesnudas están lavando en el patio, y pregonando los fogones un silencio             cuadrilátero. Cuartos donde necia da la tos, funeral silbato. Cuartos con sus caras mustias, con su exposición de harapos.La enferma se asoma y llama…, la enferma se asoma y llama al viento, que no hace caso. Aprieta el zaguán oscuro. Abofetea el tinaco.Y zonzos,             de calor y noche, pasan cuartos.             Cuartos…             Cuartos… Cuartos de la gente pobre con sus chiquillos descalzos. Cuartos donde no entra el sol, que el sol es aristocrático.

Demetrio Herrera Sevillano, Cuartos [poema]

Patios limosos — Parte I

Demetrio Herrera Sevillano fue un escritor panameño que nació el 27 de noviembre de 1902 y murió durante la siesta1 en el 9 de octubre de 19502, de padre colombiano y madre chorrerana 3. Fue un poeta vanguardista4, siempre dedicado a la crítica social gracias a sus experiencias de vida como encuadernador bohemio de ingresos humildes que vivía en el barrio de Santa Ana1.

La poesía Cuartos, del poemario La canción del esclavo, fue inspirado en sus vivencias5 del Movimiento inquilinario de 1925, que surgió a raíz de protestas contra la situación habitacional en la ciudad de Panamá. Toda su obra es caracterizada por esta conciencia social4, sin embargo, es especialmente en La canción del esclavo en dónde, según Fredy Villarreal está «la más acre y dura protesta social realizada a través de la poesía en Panamá»6; usando la poesía como vehículo de crítica social.

Parte segunda Parte tercera Parte cuarta Parte quinta

[1] Poesía: Cuartos. Autor:Demetrio Herrera Sevillano . Accedido el 30/01/2018.

[2] Demetrio Herrera Sevillano. PanamáPoesía. Accedido el 30/01/2018.

[3] Araúz, C.A. y Pizzurno, P (1995-2000). Demetrio Herrera Sevillano. Ciudad de Panamá: Editorial Panamá América. Accedido el 30/01/2018.

[4] Nieto Montilla, A (2013, 27 de abril). Demetrio Herrera Sevillano o El poeta del pueblo. Panamá América. Accedido el 30/01/2018.

[5] Villarreal Vergara, F (2017, 27 de noviembre). Demetrio: «El verdadero poeta del pueblo». Accedido el 30/01/2018.

[6] Villarreal Vergara. Demetrio Herrera Sevillano o de cuando el discurso literario y el discurso social se fusionaron. Hispanista, n. 10. [Internet] Accedido el 30/01/2018.

(via insomne-sonolienta)

[teaganwhite]

Tomorrow, January 31st at 11AM Central time, I will be launching my new website & online store at www.teaganwhite.com. I hope you’ll all like it!

Here are some things that will be available for purchase: Remaining fox & owl giclées • Remaining Kelp Forest APs • Obituary Zine 2nd edition • enamel pins • postcard packs • sticker packs • and more 🖤

[campaignagainstcliche]

roger that

[insomne-sonolienta]

The kodak has been a sore calamity to us. The most powerful enemy that has confronted us, indeed. In the early years we had no trouble in getting the press to “expose” the tales of the mutilations as slanders, lies, inventions of busy-body American missionaries and exasperated foreigners who found the “open door” of the Berlin-Congo charter closed against them when they innocently went out there to trade; and by the press’s help we got the Christian nations everywhere to turn an irritated and unbelieving ear to those tales and say hard things about the tellers of them. Yes, all things went harmoniously and pleasantly in those good days, and I was looked up to as the benefactor of a down-trodden and friendless people. Then all of a sudden came the crash! That is to say, the incorruptible kodak — and all the harmony went to hell! The only witness I have encountered in my long experience that I couldn’t bribe.

Mark Twain, King Leopold’s Soliloquy (1905)

[insomne-sonolienta]

No tengo una especial consideración por Satanás, pero al menos puedo decir que no tengo ningún prejuicio contra él. Incluso puede que me incline un poco hacia su lado, por aquello de que nunca ha tenido un juicio justo. Todas las religiones escriben biblias contra él y dicen las cosas más injuriosas sobre él, pero nunca escuchamos su punto de vista. No tenemos nada más que la evidencia de su persecución, y ya hemos pronunciado el veredicto. A mi juicio, esto es muy irregular. Es anti-inglés, anti-estadounidense; es francés. Sin este precedente, Dreyfus no habría podido ser condenado. Por supuesto que Satanás tendrá algo de culpa, no hace falta decirlo. Puede ser algo de poca monta, algo que podría decirse de cualquiera de nosotros. Tan pronto como pueda reunir los hechos, yo mismo me ocuparé de su reposición, si puedo encontrar un editor apolítico. Es algo que todos deberíamos estar dispuestos a hacer por cualquiera que esté bajo una nube. Es posible que no le reverenciemos pues ello resultaría insensato, pero al menos respetemos sus talentos.

Mark Twain (1896, Sobre el pueblo judío)

[insomne-sonolienta]

I have no special regard for Satan; but I can at least claim that I have no prejudice against him. It may even be that I lean a little his way, on account of his not having a fair show. All religions issue bibles against him, and say the most injurious things about him, but we never hear his side. We have none but the evidence for the prosecution, and yet we have rendered the verdict. To my mind, this is irregular. It is un-English; it is un-Amerucan; it is French. Without this precedent Dreyfus could not have been condemned. Of course Satan has some kind of case, it goes without saying. It may be a poor one, but that is nothing; that can be said about any of us. As soon as I can get at the facts I will undertake his rehabilitation myself, if I can find an unpolitic publisher. It is a thing we ought to be willing to do for any one who is under a cloud. We may not pay him reverence, for that would be indiscreet, but we can at least respect his talents.

Mark Twain (1896, Concerning the Jews)

[fsacre]

Drawing on a stone ! tam tadadadam …

[did-you-know]

Source

[dat-soldier]

back the fuck up

[sonnetscrewdriver]

There’s another story that I like about a Chinese general who had to defend a city with only a handful of soldiers from a huge enemy horde that was in all likelihood going to steamroll the place flat within hours of showing up.

So when said horde did arrive, they saw the general sitting outside the city’s open gates, drinking tea. The horde sent a couple of emissaries over to see what was what, and the general greeted them cheerfully and invited them all to come and take tea with him.

The horde decided that this was a scenario that had “MASSIVE FUCKING TRAP” written all over it in beautiful calligraphy and promptly fucked off.

Whoever that general was, he was clearly the Ancient Chinese equivalent of Sam Vimes.

[dat-soldier]

did he just invite us over for tea nah man i’m out

[catgoblinchelly]

This just keeps getting better

[sleepyferret]

I fucking love history.

[konec0]

ok but tbh that story misses a lot of the subtlety of the situation like ok

so this story is the Romance of Three Kingdoms, and essentially takes place between Zhuge Liang, resident tactician extraordinaire, and Sima Yi… OTHER resident tactician extraordinaire.

The two were both regarded as tactical geniuses and recognized the other as their rival. Zhuge Liang had a reputation for ambushing the SHIT out of his opponents and using the environment to his advantage, thus destroying large armies with a small number of men. Sima Yi (who kind of entered the picture later) was a cautious person whose speciality was unravelling his opponent’s plans before they began. So it was natural that the two would butt heads; however, since Sima Yi tended to have more men and resources, he started winning battles against the former. Which, y’know, kinda sucked.

On to the actual story: Zhuge Liang is all like “shit i gotta defend this city with like 10 men.” Literally if he fights ANY kind of battle here, he WILL lose; his only option for survival is not to fight. And that’s looking more and more impossible until he hears that his rival is leading the opposing army. And then he gets this brilliant idea. He basically opens all the gates, sends his men out in civilian clothes to sweep the streets, and sits on top of the gate drinking tea and chilling out and basically makes the whole thing out to be a trap

When Sima Yi comes he’s all like “yo come on in bro”

and Sima Yi is like “yeah he’s never been that obvious about his traps before. this is definitely a bluff” and he’s about to head in when he realizes

wait. he knows that i think he’s bluffing.

and so he gets it in his head that maybe, just MAYBE, Zhuge Liang has this cunning plan that will wipe out his army - recall that he has a pretty good handle on what his rival is capable of. And after a long period of deliberation (which is just like “he know that I know that he knows that etc.”), being the cautious man he is, SIma Yi eventually decides to turn his entire army around and leave.

Zhuge Liang later points out that the plan was based specifically on the fact that he was facing his rival; if it had been anyone else, there’s no way it would have worked. A dumber or less cautious person would have simply charged in and won without breaking a sweat. 

and that’s the real genius here: it was a plan formed entirely just to deceive one man, and it worked.

[uovoc]

Zhuge Liang is the most brilliant, sneaky-ass bastard in history. One time his side’s army was out of arrows, which pretty much meant they were screwed. So Zhuge Liang goes and does the logical thing, which is build a fuck ton of scarecrows and put them all on boats. Then he makes the men hide in the boats and sail them out on the river.

Well, that day was super foggy (which Zhuge Liang had predicted. Did I mention he was also a freakishly accurate meteorologist?). So the enemy across the river sees a fleet of boats armed to the teeth with what appears to be half an army of men. They panic! and start firing arrows like crazy. 

Zhuge Liang lets this play out for a while, then he’s like, ”Ok guys that’s enough.” They calmly turn the boats around and go back to base, where they dismantle the scarecrows and pull out all the enemy’s arrows.

Zhuge Liang is legend.

[optimysticals]

I love this post. It just keeps getting better. Like seriously, I would have adored learning about this in World History.

[futureevilscientist]

If you want to see this in cinematic glory, watch Red Cliff.

Especially since it makes Zhuge Liang look like this:

Red Cliff is 50% bloody battles and 50% eye candy and about half of that eye-candy is due to Zhuge Liang

[inkspot-fox]

@admiraloblivious we’re finding this movie and watching it asap

[idontevenhaveone]

Ffffff-

[xantissa]

Movie is actually kinda awesome.

[mar-paz]

Out of Their Love They Made It: A Visual History of Buraq

Although mentioned only briefly in the Qur'an, the story of the Prophet Muhammad's night journey to heaven astride a winged horse called Buraq has long caught the imagination of artists. Yasmine Seale charts the many representations of this enigmatic steed, from early Islamic scripture to contemporary Delhi, and explores what such a figure can tell us about the nature of belief.

An article about the art evolution of Buraq in Islamic art.

[…] the Prophet Muhammad’s ascent to heaven astride a winged horse called Buraq […]

[…] Buraq’s conception was gradual, her evolution more peculiar and circuitous. She crops up on Persian miniatures and Pakistani trucks, Zanzibari ephemera and Libyan airplanes, Senegalese glass paintings and Indian matchboxes. Yet despite her many incarnations, or perhaps because of them, her essence remains elusive. There is no original, no definitive Buraq, but rather an unruly palimpsest of jumbled creeds, kitsch, and sheer artistic caprice.

[…] Buraq is a creature not of scripture but of lore, and in these early writings she is still a vague, unfinished thing, uncertain of shape, let alone sex. She will take centuries to evolve a human face: some five hundred years passed before the historian al-Tha‘labi wrote that Buraq “had a cheek like the cheek of a human being”, a not-quite metaphor that launched her never quite completed metamorphosis.

[mar-paz]

Some people never go crazy. What truly horrible lives they must lead.

Charles Bukowski, Some People.