It took me a while but I finally revamped my LinkedIn account and profile.

So I have finally started creating an online room of my own. I have, of course, several blogs scattered all over the web. I started blogging in 2001, and since then I have had many blogs of my own and have participated in a number of other blogs and online projects. The intention is to have a ‘proper’ home page that can work as a general headquarters for my work and online activity.

Están pintando una casa. Le preguntan a los interesados, vecinos y habitantes: “¿cómo y de qué color creen ustedes que la debería pintar?” De muchos, sólo unos cuantos, contados, responden. En este caso lo imaginan más bien nadie. Pasa el tiempo. Después de mucho esfuerzo en solitario terminan de pintar la casa. Brilla bajo el sol.

Raskolnikov is dreaming someone else is dreaming with the sea. Raskolnikov, Everyman needs a place to go to. In a tin of biscuits of all places –the childhood of the magician– a Japanese painting painted within another landscape. In my dream the student is in Dublin drinks coffee & copiously jots down the words of the master. Raskolnikov killed the Ivanovas with a hidden pen. Against the tide the young man walks in rags.

You can keep the hidden treasures. Look below and say: these are my feet; this is the Earth and below the substance of year after year. We spent days naming clouds. There were shapes of animals. Look up. You can hear yourself blinking. There is nothing here except this. It is true it all comes back to this hand, these growing nails, hair where there was none. No, I told you, there is no meter to maintain these words in order.

Ebriedad y Cruda son hermanas. En general son veneradas en casi todos los países, incluso en aquellos de fe musulmana, donde las han obligado no sólo al velo sino a la prisión. Su popularidad cubre todos los espectros sociales, políticos y económicos. Polígamas y bisexuales, juegan con todos y nunca rechazan invitación alguna.

The Milky Way is moving faster than before– It is likely to clash with other galaxies. In two billion years. Someone will have to go through that.

Can the Muses be forced to appear? And what if, when here, they refuse to sing? And what if, when here, we just stand open-mouthed, in silence? Are Muses negative theologians? These and other questions, in our next programme. Don’t forget to crank the volume.

My computer is haunted. The city melts like sugar. There is no option but to stop doing everything and listen. The voice. Impossible not to shiver when her voice is here, right now, so clearly, so present and close. Sylvia Plath, forever alive not on her poems on the printed page, but on the recording, on the always-present-continuous of her voice. How can one long for someone one never met? Someone one has only read?

Toda observación sociológica es una experiencia mediatizada. Todo aforismo es la imposición de la idiotez en el mundo. Así éstos. Éstos no son aforismos. Ésto tampoco es un poema. Ni que lo fuera. Deja de pensar: La teoría como experiencia está limitada por la infinita distancia de la inacción. La antropología como ciencia está arruinada. Le arruina su separación del campo observado.

Amazed as truth, like western spaces, high bachelors from Holland will tender sore hands, like dead, brooded, sorrowful influences, and step themselves: whole invasions will come, like free fire, man.