Change (the only constant)

     I am attempting to be more disciplined but I did not go swimming last night.  Time just slipped past me as I was trying to fix my laptop (my Skype is running too slowly)... but with a few exceptions I am going to the gym and pool almost every day these days... it is part of a self-imposed "discipline" a Spartan revival of sorts in preparation for big challenges that are looming around the corner. “Mens sana in corpore sano”.
     The topic of this blog came up as I reminisced about the day I was having a cup of coffee with a dear friend about two weeks ago.  In the middle of our conversation and without pretensions on my side, the following phrase slipped from my mouth:
    “You know something my dear… change is the only constant in my life”. 
     But as I said that, she interrupted me in the only way she knows how to interrupt, that is, very gracefully.  She repeated my words slowly looked straight at me and smiled.
     “I love what you just said”, her eyes sparkled with admiration “change is the only constant in your life”. 
     At that point she made me reflect and those words echoed with meaning!
   “Yes, so true” I said, “as paradoxical as it sounds, change is the only constant in my life; I feel like a rolling stone for I will never gather moss”. 
Considering the deleterious consequences of my inability to grow mo$$ as the privileged do, I would say that my remark is an accurate assessment of how I have lived my life so far.
    My friend is such a precious gem, those that pirates like Eaglehook would like to retain very dearly at any favorite port!  If I were to describe her most prominent attributes, I would certainly include her enchanting femininity and alluring scent!  Oh my goodness …. Hot, hot  “candela mujer”!   I love the way she makes me feel important and much wiser than I truly am! 
     For those of you who are not familiar with my blog, Eaglehook the pirate is the main character of a spicy fairy tale I have started and that is still on the works.  He is a survivor, and for that he needs to be responsive to change otherwise he will be defeated by the witch of prejudice.  He is committed to save the Queen (of all desires) from this hideous witch, but instead got himself trapped by a platoon of three-headed hounds and grotesque goblins sent by the witch.  Now he lays captured in a dark dungeon, left to rot! 
     Eaglehook not unlike his utmost foe, the witch, is also a master of deception; I am certain that he will get himself out of that hole.  He has the unbending will of a hero and lives his life accordingly. He is resolute to the point that he would be willing to sacrifice his flesh and in turn have his invincible spirit execute his ultimate maneuver to save his loving Queen.
     I admire his high standards and tonight I wish take him out of the dungeon so that we can learn from him in a different way... Let’s recall what I wrote about him back in April last year, on the episode called “The Witch of Prejudice”. 


Fly to burn (cm Apr/09)
For a taste of your black magic
Wicked witch let me succumb;
And be devoured by the rats
That infest in your filthy dungeon.
You have captured me in good time;
Go ahead and let me die
For the flesh that you have caught
Lives a the spirit of a moth
Thwart your plan is my delight
Spin and gyre round your lamp
Wings in smoke I drop my poison
Drink to implode your wicked soul.


     There you go, that was a snapshot of his spirit - cheers, to you Eaglehook. 


A world traveler, he has circumnavigated the oceans countless times. That is why when I think of him I imagine him provisioning the “Black Pearl” in preparation for his next adventure. Of course along with his dozen crew of loyal buccaneers, who as the story goes are half-human and half-ghost for they have been cursed to remain in that amorphous stated by the wicket witch herself!    

Response to Laura: Words

Laura, thanks for posting on my entry Potpourri , I am glad that you liked what I wrote and I also know that it takes courage to post something for the first time. Sometimes I receive accolades from people who read my stuff but only a few leave a record for others to read. 
I like to read, but not only poetry… I even enjoy “reading” a finished sudoku puzzle and gratify myself with the accomplishment!  
In Spanish for instance, I like the work from my Peruvian compatriot Cesar Vallejos, and all the verses of the great master Neruda (the Chilean Olympian of words) – who now rejoices among the elites of the Olympus and sits at the same table with Zeus together with Emily Dickinson, Edgar Allan Poe and other classics of the English language.…Yes, I enjoy reading but likewise I also indulge in eating, sleeping, or walking a dog if one is available!
A lot of people tell me that I should do this or that and some have venture telling me that I should write for a living . Wow! I have even thought of joining poetry circles on the various places I have lived; to hang out with those who may think of themselves as being more equal than the rest. But I prefer the anonymity of the internet, of mingling with the masses, plebeians, drunken poets, bohemian or anyone who loves words and uses them to express feelings or thoughts.  Blogging gives you that advantage: anyone from anywhere and from all walks of life can read your writings and you can read theirs and share thoughts (with kings and paupers just the same!) 
I don’t like pseudo-intellectuals, persons who can recite, quote and name the writing of many simply to impress others and like them much less if they have the audacity to “price tag” your work. – pompous they conduct themselves as if they possessed some divine authority to judge. Emphatically, I am suspicious of these “virtuosos” with giant memories filled with the words of others but who cannot produce meaning of their own creation.  
You may wish to enlighten your spirit by reading from the “literary giants”; or you may even want to emulate their style by virtue of their intrinsic beauty.  Yes, I agree with anyone who endorses that reading from the great writers is incredibly rewarding.
But it is not a prerequisite to “educate” your intellect with the words of others to be able to write from within - your own suffice to to connect with your soul.  The creative process of how words take meaning and how they capture the essence of thought it is an intimate experience.  In that regard, words that explain your feelings and connect to your soul are innate to the creator (the poet) and nobody else.  
I like to say that when I am inspired, I enter into a "zone", a space where words float around my mind, then I filter them through my heart, choose them like picking cherries, and then compose for meaning.
Impostors who insensitively spew Chaucer and Joyce as to show a metric of their worth, are most certainly obtuse and deprived from understanding the true value words; particularly from the words written by the superb minds that composed the original versions they think to master – understanding comes with sensitivity, the ability to connect with meaning that flow through your senses and not from data-bank of extraneous knowledge.   
To illustrate my point, imagine a 5 year old girl tenderly holding a chick who has just hatched, stretching her arms and hands - with a smile and her eyes filled with discovery utters the word “yellow” … she has just composed her first one word poem at the age of 5.  
Now, a few seconds later she calls your attention again, and as she brings the chick close to her chest, she recites her poem for the second time and says “yellow”.  She has just concluded her act by adding meaning and sublime value to her creation, and perhaps bringing some tears in your eyes.  
I recommend you read what a Paulo Lopez who wrote on his blog about the subject.

Thanks for your visit, and come again. Cesar

Apologies to all rabbits

I was kind of cynical of them on my last post

As I recall, my mom also hid Easter eggs around the house and garden and we looked for rabbits hidden behind furniture, fences and bushes... My recent blogs kind of signals that I am becoming very detached from my childhood years... Am I getting OLD????!!!!
I reacted like a grumpy nonbeliever calloused by the death of Santa, the funny rabbits of Easter and of tooth decaying candy from auspicious tooth-fairies. I will reform and regain my child back... my most sincere contrition for scaring the rabbits!
Enjoy this video featuring the legendary Buggs Bunny and Elmer Fudd (me!)

Happy Easter

In matters absurdity and chocolate eggs, funny rabbits know it all for nothing has changed:

Then too many stood to watch inert
When the trumpets announce a kill
A few feasted in loud cheers
While the crowds stood still to watch nails pierce
As the One who stood tall was fallen dead
And as if all knew be promised forgiveness
They all rather watched him go
Still today many ate chocolate rabbit eggs

Gaia ¿Por que llora la justicia?

Los códigos del sentimiento no se rigen ni por vastos pensamientos ni con las leyes del saber. Más bien ellos brotan del alma, son invisibles a los ojos, se rinden a la conciencia y solo lo entiende el corazón.

Absurdo seria si el alma del bueno reflejara solo la quietud su conciencia limpia… y la del malo solo el alboroto de la misma. La vida no es en blanco y negro… al contrario, un calidoscopio de colores de matices de muchísimas texturas e infinidad de grises.

La justicia sufre, con el alma dura llena de dolor... Valiente decide ciega e imparcial aun que le duela enormemente tomar del veneno de los dioses por no curarse con los remedios de los ángeles caídos...

Agradezco a la madre tierra

Por poder haber llegado a tiempo

Por sembrar el sentir en mí conciencia

Por recibir tu soplo,

¡Oh Gaia, pienso y luego soy!

Give Peace a Chance.

"All we are saying is give peace a chance" - John Lennon


This is my first posting in English. I have started my blog on the first day of this year. I don’t have a concrete idea of where I am heading so it is fair to say that at the moment I am drifting with the tides.

Deep inside of me however, there is a character unlike the funny caricature of the pirate I have chosen to represent me in my blogger profile. This person feels more like “Santiago” the protagonist that features in Ernest Hemingway’s novel “The Old Man and the Sea” – perhaps there is a Merlin out there waiting for me that will measure my character… That is what I want to find out.

Unlike the lyric posts that I made in Spanish, this one is VIOLENT, it is about people killing people… it is a bout a senseless insanity that spreads like a plague … Do you have any thought as to how to end this madness? Please share them with me with one condition: DO NOT TAKE SIDES THAT KILL because all sides (that kill) are equally wrong.


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Jan 06 - '09

I brought Gabriela's comment here to the front to emphasize her answer with a picture...

Gabriela wrote: "All I know is: an eye for an eye... and we'll all become blind. Apparently and sadly, this is happening. And as I see it, it's all pointless. January 5, 2009 5:36 PM"

Adiós a la Soledad: visita a un chupe de mariscos

A la soledad la degusté dentro de un sancochado de chupe. Los protagonistas entre camarones, almejas, calamares y pulpos todos suspendidos en grueso cocido, entreverados y totalmente vulnerables: algunos calatos, otros descuartizados a pedazos, desmembrados sin brazos ni antenas!

Atrapados dentro de un calderón, que a pesar que en compañía eran igualmente indocumentados, e inútiles entre ellos.

Flotan victimas de fuerzas externas - empantanados por todos lados sin medios de expresión, moción a no ser tan solo sentirse un pedazo.

Trozos que solo son capaces de sentir el malestar del entorno que cambia a cada momento que pasa la cuchara de palo; que tal cual un remo, los empuja, jalan y arrastran en giros – cuajados sucumben mareados con vértigo en caldo espeso,... Unos se ubican aplastados achicharrándose al fondo ardiente, y otros con suerte a flote burbujeando en vapores - ilusionados ser afortunados.

Inequívocamente pasan de olla al plato hondo, que por medio de una cuchara y tras larga metamorfosis reversa acaban por perder cualquier característica propia – purgados a hedientos acueductos no les queda otra que diluirse al olvido.

Por eso, para no quedar ensopado asumamos nuestras responsabilidades sin echarle la culpa al cucharón, ni a la pura leche que no llego, ni por haber caído en trampa ajena y vendido en abarrotes de mercado.

Colorín colorado, este cuento se ha acabado

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Los invito a visitar en YouTube a Gastón Acurio lo mejor en gastronomía criolla