Any Man's Death Diminishes Me

Meditation XVII

from Devotions Upon Emergent Occasions

Nunc lento sonitu dicunt, morieris.
Now this bell tolling softly for another, says to me, Thou must die.

Perchance he for whom this bell tolls may be so ill as that he knows not it tolls for him; and perchance I may think myself so much better than I am, as that they who are about me and see my state may have caused it to toll for me, and I know not that. The church is catholic, universal, so are all her actions; all that she does belongs to all. When she baptizes a child, that action concerns me; for that child is thereby connected to that head which is my head too, and ingrafted into the body whereof I am a member. And when she buries a man, that action concerns me: all mankind is of one author and is one volume; when one man dies, one chapter is not torn out of the book, but translated into a better language; and every chapter must be so translated. God employs several translators; some pieces are translated by age, some by sickness, some by war, some by justice; but God's hand is in every translation, and his hand shall bind up all our scattered leaves again for that library where every book shall lie open to one another. As therefore the bell that rings a sermon calls not upon the preacher only, but upon the congregation to come, so this bell calls us all; but how much more me, who am brought so near the door by this sickness. There was a contention as far as a suit (in which piety and dignity, religion and estimation, were mingled) which of the religious orders should ring to prayers first in the morning; and it was determined that they should ring first that rose earliest. If we understand aright the dignity of this bell that tolls for our evening prayer, we would be glad to make it ours by rising early, in that application, that it might be ours as well as his whose indeed it is. The bell doth toll for him that thinks it doth; and though it intermit again, yet from that minute that that occasion wrought upon him, he is united to God. Who casts not up his eye to the sun when it rises? but who takes off his eye from a comet when that breaks out? Who bends not his ear to any bell which upon any occasion rings? but who can remove it from that bell which is passing a piece of himself out of this world? No man is an island, entire of itself; every man is a piece of the continent, a part of the main. If a clod be washed away by the sea, Europe is the less, as well as if promontory were, as well as if a manor of thy friend's or of thine own were. Any man's death diminishes me, because I am involved in mankind; and therefore never send to know for whom the bell tolls; it tolls for thee. Neither can we call this a begging of misery or a borrowing of misery, as though we are not miserable enough of ourselves but must fetch in more from the next house, in taking upon us the misery of our neighbors. Truly it were an excusable covetousness if we did; for affliction is a treasure, and scarce any man hath enough of it. No man hath affliction enough that is not matured and ripened by it, and made fit for God by that affliction. If a man carry treasure in bullion, or in a wedge of gold, and have none coined into current moneys, his treasure will not defray him as he travels. Tribulation is treasure in the nature of it, but it is not current money in the use of it, except we get nearer and nearer our home, heaven, by it. Another man may be sick too, and sick to death, and this affliction may lie in his bowels as gold in a mine and be of no use to him; but this bell that tells me of his affliction digs out and applies that gold to me, if by this consideration of another's dangers I take mine own into contemplation and so secure myself by making my recourse to my God, who is our only security.

John Donne

La lacerante distancia

El Miedo Que...

Mentirás a mis ojos
Fallarás si me tocas
No se puede olvidarla
Una mentira que habla
Y que palabras no tiene
Pero dirá lo que quiere

Cada quien tiene sus limites
Los tuyos los entendí bien
Y habiendo ya entendido
Me sirvo de beber

De noche cuando el cielo brilla
Pero no hay luna ni una estrella

Recordaré el miedo que
Que mojaba mis ojos
Pero olvidarte
Ya era imposible, ya no
Recordarás el miedo que
He esperado probaras
Probándolo yo
Que todo veloz naciera
Y veloz terminara

La lacerante distancia
Entre confianza e ilusión
Es una puerta abierta
Y una que no se cierra
Y que palabras no tiene
Pero dirá lo que quiere
Hay diferencia entre amor
Y toda su dependencia
Te llamo si puedo
me mata tu ausencia
Por este amor estoy sufriendo
Que más lo vivo menos aprendo

Recordaré el miedo que
Que mojaba mis ojos
Pero olvidarte
Ya era imposible, ya no
Recordarás el miedo que
He esperado probaras
Probándolo yo
Que todo veloz naciera
Y veloz terminara

Se quedará así
Decírtelo ahora
De toda manera
Pero luego nada cambiará
Se quedará así
Hablarte otra vez
Pero todavía
Yo olvidando te amaré
Por cada abrazo un regalo
aunque si luego estaré solo
nunca pensando
nunca queriendo
sabiendo que nunca cambiará
se quedará así

Mentirás a mis ojos
Fallarás si me tocas

- Tiziano Ferro, Nadie Está Solo

most awkward moment: stopping my trip to bed because of the embarrassing tinkling sound of pee dropping while a guest pees with the bathroom door half open, and i half-want to walk past the bathroom and expose myself to the woman to whom i'm half related and half-aroused by, and then pretend i'm typing something half-important (this here) when i really have been half-pleasuring myself and half-pretending that i'm happy i've no one to do the half-honor for me

ella no lo sabe..
ya somos extraños
una vez inseparables, para siempre,
sus manos en mis manos
como el brillo de la luna
fue efímero, estacional
calderas de pasión, humo que desaparece
la noche que despacio da espacio al alba
y ella aún no lo sabe
dias desolados en los que falta el sol
dia de hoyo negro
cosecha de magia oscura
el mundo olvidando, el mundo olvidado
eternamente olvidadizo, brilla
a la orilla de una playa de arena gruesa
cada grano de arena que se escapa
entre los dedos y pensamientos
como el reloj
con cada hora marcada me siembra
y desespero el momento de entregar
florecer
todo esto ella no sabe

a certain kind of love

a certain kind of love
is a blanket or other comfort
the warmth of your skin, the sweetness of your caress
the right words to turn
a rhythm in sync, resonant soul-moment
endless moments of seek, these restless streets
cares and glares a chamber gives
the next relentlessly and without effort unleash.
a hurricane tore the guards of the walls of heart
a house sex built to withstand
all manner of human fault- forgive
and shelter
a certain kind of love
beautiful face to soothe
lovers past forget
and dreams
to behold
a pause in the flux of life / this song
accompany me
curves parallel the longer perspective
and wounds of heart that are healed
I grasp your core artfully and not with little
desire I bite
an other memory of my heart
turns to dust ash
/ © eduardo de león

objects to which we owe allegiance

objects to which we owe allegiance
things/people which we retain
times when we are beholden
this time when we behold
thinks to forget/ begs be forlorn
Remembers and longs for remembrance
I find and lose your memory daily
a photograph I can’t escape
and can’t help belonging my image to
creativity as therapy/ i hate you never
was so appealing / good-bye never so close
and hurt never so immediate
tengo una herida llamada ________
y una cura llena de ti.

____________
/ © eduardo de león

anoche soñé con ella otra vez.  íbamos a almorzar, yo me senté a su lado, y recogí sobras de comida entre sus muslos. 

anoche soñé con ella. por primera vez en mucho tiempo.  estaba saliendo de un apartamento en el cual un hombre se encontraba con una prostituta, cuando escuché un teléfono sonar y fui a verlo, dejó de sonar y una voz familiar lo respondió con "Aló?" y después colgó.  le pregunté porqué había respondido al teléfono, y estuvo avergonzada, salimos al ascensor y cuando salíamos del edificio entraba la esposa de aquél hombre. era un edificio de Parkchester.

i suppose it makes them feel normal, or virtuous, kind, civilized..

blogging from security gate at lga - on a network called nwaworldclubs

déjame atravesar el viento sin documentos
que lo haré por el tiempo que tuvimos
porque no queda salida
porque pareces dormida
porque buscando tu sonrisa estaría toda mi vida
quiero ser el único que te muerda la boca
quiero saber que contigo la vida no va a terminar

- andres calamaro

two weeks to go - the longer the present to be

a desktop picture/window, weather forecast

a cemetery, autumn begins

overcast sky, overcast mind

a new operating reality, i might become accustomed

slow piano strokes, thunder, a dark corner

a cold embrace, sweetly whispers

two more weeks - the freedom to endure

the binding ties that chafe these wrists;

the rage and anger, the tears, the fists-

neverending hurt becomes

my truest companion, promised bride

i choke on a bite of its frosted heart

and silently slip into a nightscape [mind/reality]

of a dream
© Copyright 2006 Eduardo De León

post before leaving. am visiting my cousin and meeting her daughter Marie for the first time.

i'll be back monday, with stories and words, and feelings, i'm sure.

¿Qué hay en dos amigos, cuando despues de todo, parecen perdidos y prefieren a otros?

Quedan en las manos ignorando lo dado,
Si antaño se estrecharon ahora están engañados.

¿Qué les hizo alejarse de su orilla intranquila, tan siquiera un instante piensan en esos dias?

- Héroes del Silencio

To Forget

Compelling writing that makes this want to forget /
And lines forgotten or never seen /
An image and a flower in a palm /
A friendly gesture that wants to hear /
Hidden messages in holler told /
Wind does carry ear by ear /
A burdened mind corralled, a fist that bleeds wisdom and emotion /
Calmly collects its sanity /
Dropping like watter, chasing like rivers /
Flowing like wind, forgetting like yesteryear /
Secrets that are shared /
I know your body like the book /
Pages like flowers turn and betray /
A deathly beauty that computes /
And reinvents light dancing words /
Like the poetry that was love /
And the sadness it left here /
The never the right and to recall /
Your memory and name does, to forget /
The very words my heart invoked /
Make all such thoughts to disappear /
And ever a day shall be reborn /
Return once more to this place /
Inhabit every place again /
But remember the rock, that it records /
In ages of turmoil and upheaval /
What was swore never to give /
And received /
Like the waves of the ocean /
Or the sands in the desert /
Dissipate, disappear /
And forget what was writ here. /

©2006 Eduardo De León

Prisoner Moth Neverending

I’m disappointed in you too
So sorry
Humanity is beyond redemption
Missing what was never there
An illusion lost
A beat that carries nothingness
Marching, carrying on
Moving for the sake of moving

There is no refuge
Saddest face I’ver ever seen
And a beautiful mask that
We desire, a hollow room
Colors empty, aggrieved landscape
Nothing satisfies, existence lacks purpose
Life does not seem worthy of life
Love does not seem worthy of fire
Pervasive cold like a dark cave
Every sound is uncomfortable
Silence is my best friend
Shhhhhh
Eternity calls, echoes
Eternity calls, echoes
Echoes
The light and warmth of this
Flame to consume all the air
The breath, the memories, the fire to embrace
The unspoken words, the endless time, and burn life
Love, vicissitudes expiring in favor of
The beauty and simplicity of
Nonexistence
Fine words emblematic, a tapestry of mindscapes, a new territory
On which to roam freely as a thought or prisoner moth neverending

© 2005 Eduardo De León

La Noche / viento del norte

Raíces y voces que eternas se elevan /
Potencias materias místicas parciales /
Nunca a perder, bailar al horizonte /
Romper palabras y promesas, el viento frío del norte /
Su sombra recorta con su arte, su eco recoge como vergüenza /
Fruto como sembrado, cosecha del destino /
Su desnudez acorta su lamento, qué verdad más triste acompaña /
La luz vacía y tajante que grita como un pez /
Trozos de luna que nos atormentan cuando su madre /
La Noche /
Llega de partes foráneas, tierras errantes distantes /
Martes la Guerra, la guerrera /
Julia /
La hembra cuyo olor primero se detecta en una mezcla extrañamente aborrece y atrae /
Un espejo de contradicciones –

©2006 Eduardo De León

rockYou

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¿Cuánto vive el hombre, por fin? ¿Vive mil años o uno solo? ¿Vive una semana o varios siglos? ¿Por cuánto tiempo muere el hombre? ¿Qué quiere decir para siempre?
- Pablo Neruda

Si vuelvo a verte un día
no diré palabra alguna
Recordaré que un día nos amamos.
Si alguna vez te vuelvo a ver
regálame tu mano y tu sonrisa
quiero otra vez contemplar tu belleza, fresca como una brisa
suave como seda, dulce como miel.
Si alguna vez te veo y recuerdo
lo que te quise y cómo te amé
perdóname. Perdóname.
Perdóname si lágrimas saltan de mis ojos para
conocerte, e imaginar todo una vida junto a ti
una vida quizás llena de felicidad y amor
que en otro universo,
acaso con más justicia y emoción, acaso con más flores
acaso menos triste que éste
pudieron más los sueños
y logré tenerte en mis brazos nueva vez

Si vuelvo a verte algún día
no diré palabra alguna
pues ¿qué queda por decir
entre los dos?
Callaré y clavaré mis ojos en ti.

i seek an old familiar warmth
a coddling, cozy embrace
a darkness that swallows me whole and lulls me asleep
a nestling caress
a never-ending sadness that is bittersweet
first bitter, strong, long,
slowly, lastle, sweet
a warm breast, a sweet nipple
an embarrassingly homelike welcome
a greeting from an old friend who has come to collect
a long-ago remaining debt
carefully pronounced, calmly explained
a short conversation, amiable
and a good bye.

© 2005 Eduardo De León
15 JUL 2005, 1hr 1min EST

Tu dimmi se c'é ancora per me
un'altra occasione, un'altra emozione
se ancora sei tu, ancora di piú
Un altra canzone fresca e nuova
tu dimmi se ormai qualcosa di noi
c'é ancora dentro gli occhi tuoi,
gli occhi tuoi

- Pausini

So much left to say.
So many words to write
things to remember, more to forget
memories that haunt, that please, that sing
I lack a vocabulary to populate
a universe of thoughts, ideas like butterflies
coloring a span of tiny time
this here speech is for the ages
these words are said but once more
this ode, its existence, to you it owes not
you are not in my mind as I write.
If time were an ally tonight
and we sat to converse about us
there would gain some night ahead in between us
a long and hard darkness to pass
a closed chapter, tale to tell.
If time were on my side
a figure tall and sober and fair
my fortunes would tell a story
filled with wonder, passion, despair
and accompany the moon on a journey
twelve revolutions again
you are not the sun.
You are not the warmth, you are not the colors in the bleak winter.
you are not sultriness in a dry spell
the night would speak of unexpected kindness
the wind would whisper a name, not yours
this poem is not about you.
horizons to wit, when the sun rises, there is an event
greater than all the thoughts or words of man
and before the night falls, 
there is an act, shared by beings, that transcends
there is a force
that turns a planet about
when the mountains and oceans and deserts and rivers know not why they should
there is an essence, an energy that knows no bounds or limits
that is born of one and all, and manifests in each
it is a simple, single word which causes all other words to have meaning
and that today resists appropriation,
instantiation, individuality, 
it refuses to include you.
The subject of this lyric is not you
for once, in time, and history, for all,
that these words shall settle and make known
this body, once passion alive, cannot
bear your image or thought
and the end of this night to proclaim
the end of this dream to forget
this heart knows not your name
the tenets of love I forsake
the rest blindly concede and accept.

ha sido una noche interminable.

yo y ella, ella y yo.
los dos amanecimos, cada uno manteniendo despierto al otro.
la luna, mi eterna amante, que entra entre las cortinas y se postra en mi cuarto
se mete entre sábanas y sueños,
no me deja dormir en paz.

mis dos amantes estuvieron conmigo esta noche.

ella y yo, yo y ella.

la misma que conserva su nombre y lo cambia, que es y no es la de antes, sobre quien escribo y conozco por primera vez.

ella

Various Panoramic Shots

 
 
 
  

Y estaba contentísimo de noche
esperándote bajo tu casa
apriétame la mano, ya nos vamos
Tú estabas contentísima
cuando mirando Amsterdam
no te importaba
que la lluvia ya cayera
solo un vela era
hermosísima, recuerdos
y recuerdos que me sugerían
que de todas formas algún dia diré
que estaba contentísimo
pero nunca te dije que
gritaba dentro dios aún más todavía

she tore my letter
never read it

she knew not what i asked
she cares not

En Oaxaca se toma el mezcal con café
dicen que la hierba le cura la mala fe
a mí me gusta el mole, 
la soledad me va moler..

En Oaxaca con agua hacen chocolate
dicen que en la fiesta todito se ha de quemar
..

what i'd give to run my fingers through your hair,
touch your lips, to hold you near
When you say your prayers try to understand
I've made mistakes, I'm just a man

And I will love you, baby,
Always
And I'll be there forever and a day,
Always
I'll be there till the stars don't shine
till the heavens burst and the words don't rhyme
And I know when I die, you'll be on my mind
And I'll love you
Always

- Bon Jovi

La Martiniana

si quieres que te recuerde,
si quieres que no te olvide,
canta mis sueños del alma,
música que no muere

no me llores, no
no me llores, no
porque si lloras yo peno
en cambio si tú me cantas
yo siempre vivo
y nunca muero

love is over-rated.  most of the time.

may be so, but.  there is only one way to know for sure.

today, while cleaning, I found a $500 check from NLP to me, which apparently I never cashed.  There is no memo comment, I don't know what it was for.  It is dated June 1999, so I can make conjectures for what it may have been and what it may not have been for.

Now I'm getting ideas about calling her, and counter-thoughts about not calling her, or anybody.

life.

When we two parted
in secret we met-
In silence I grieve,
That thy heart could forget,
thy spirit deceive.

If I should meet thee
After long years,
How should I greet thee? -
With silence and tears.
 - George Gordon, 1788-1824

Every time I hear a political speech or I read those of our leaders, I am horrified for having, for years, heard nothing which sounded human. It is always the same words telling the same lies. And the fact that men accept this, that the people's anger has not destroyed these hollow clowns, strikes me as proof that men attribute no importance to the way they are governed;
that they gamble yes, gamble with a whole part of their life and their so called "vital interests."
- Albert Camus

if i should die

If I should die
for all to know – I left it all
behind – lo que dije y lo que no
there is a reason, what is left said,
a last word, or unsaid, staid too
si no hay razón, habrá tiempo
para pensar
there will be plenty of questions
and even more, time to think
of answers – I’ve taken with me and left behind.

-Eduardo De Leon, 27 Jan 2003

polenta and monkfish

some boiling water, mint, olive oil, flour
stir, polenta.

monkfish, take out bone in middle, peel skin off with sharp knife, cut in pieces
monkfish is poor man's lobster

butter, wine, dissipate alcohol, juice of 1 lemon, salt, puree of garlic
salt the fish, put back in sauce, simmer

serve fish on top of polenta, add pine nuts, pour some sauce, drizzle of olive oil, a little basil on top.

eat with white wine, and good company
if you can find it

door stuck, cannot open, goo in lock, call police, condo security, what result

we are exceedingly good at this game..

dreams.. a few days ago i saw a former girlfriend in a car with another man- a famous actor.. she pretended to not see me, but only after making eye contact with me..  he smiled and waved as though his celebrity were my joy

pensé que ella me visitaría el pasado fin de semana, sorprendiéndome después de que me había dicho que no vendría.

pero no vino.

no solo eso.  ayer terminamos nuestra relación.

acordamos ser amigos.

:-S

llueve

I have a sneaking suspicion that I may have a visitor this weekend.. an unexpected but welcome visitor..

i have this constant feeling that i'm going to vomit..

and just like that she comes back to my life
the one and only
my luna, my mistress of twilight
with mists of fabric and dream
inebriating melody
a fast rock of dust and memory
that dances in the space between
our most intimate encounter
flailing like the wind
the lonely night
my bride

Ayer teñí
de color sangre
mis sueños
y no queda nada sagrado
que me divierta ya
  - Héroes del Silencio

the Apple MacBook - Very Nice Computer

The Apple MacBook, which some people are already calling the "BlacBook", is very nice indeed. Not only is the screen the reflective glossy kind, but the keyboard gives very good tactile response. The design and layout of the keys makes them feel very comfortable. I tried typing with it for a while, and it feels very natural and comfortable; except for one thing: key-combos that involve the ctrl key. It feels oddly smaller, even though it is the same size as other Apple laptops. Perhaps because of the new layout- the key is separated from the Fn and Option keys- it feels like it is in a different place. Perhaps it takes some getting used to; after all I only typed on it for a few minutes. The level of resistance and feedback the keys give when pressed is very comfortable- it will not be difficult to tell if pressing a key registered.

I'm still browsing through the store..

More later.

it's 5 april and it's snowing in new york city.

snowing!

I'm uneasy because despite my worst fears and against all hope, I know it is only a dream and it will not last.

samantha morton's character in code 46 asks, if we were aware of the consequences of all our actions we would never take the first step.

I wonder now, as I ask myself, were I to know in advance how it was going to end, would I still go through with it.  It is a thought best enjoyed as a question, no answer could ever do.

I had a dream last night.. Among other things, I was returning home, and home was 3061 23rd street, except that it was no longer on a corner, and it wasn't 3061, it was number 8.  I was hoping that she'd be there, but i didn't know if she would-

  -thud!- the remote drops to the carpeted 
  floor, dad has fallen asleep in front of the
  television again.

-she would be home.  I was half expecting noone to be home, half hoping that she would be home, waiting for me.  Cautiously I approached, looking, finding the comfort of a yellow light on inside, sign that there is someone home.  She's home! slowly I unlock the front door, which is suspiciously locking a transparent wall that leads me to a patio that resembles my childhood homes in the DR (all three, club rotario, calle 15, and calle D), then I see my mom, smiling, welcoming me, while i slowly, cautiously walk in, to discover her there, her back turned to me, and I think a smile betrays her.  This is a good feeling, she's home, yet I'm not entirely sure why I'm still feeling uneasy.

And then I awaken.

I cut my hair this past sunday.  I will post a pic here at some point.

¡Qué buena está esta Mary Gamarra!  Da el tiempo en Cada Dia, en Telemundo.  Hoy está vestida de rosado.  ¡Qué delicia de mujer!

all work no play makes jack a dull boy

Creativity And Skill

"Technical skill is mastery of complexity while creativity is mastery of simplicity."
E. C. Zeeman

i had a dream last night- different things, some of which I remember, some I don't.

i remember walking along a path between fields of sugar cane.  soon the path came to a fork, i chose to go to the right, even as it was darker and more full of trees and branches, less clear.  thru that path i came to find a place near a stream of water, a rocky brook, from which a great square block of stone rose, in the center of the ankle-high stream.  this stone was flat and roughly polished, obviously artificial, like a monument.  It had a rotating face on which words and symbols were inscribed; it was like a scrolling display made of stone, with water streaming on its surface.

the words read something like, "The children of the Age of Aquarius...  Of the one Never Found".

I know there was more in the dream before that which I've described, but I cannot remember it..

today was a windy day in new york city

good day to let my hair loose

I'm watching Wayne Dyer speak on Inspiration, on WLIW 21, a PBS station in New York (Long Island).  He has many thoughts in which I have found value.

Perhaps I will write some of my thoughts here.

I saw his previous program on the power of intention, and found value in it also.  This program was also on yesterday, and was followed by another presentation by the author of "Rich Dad, Poor Dad", speaking about financial education.  I also found some value in that, changed some of my thinking about finances and strengthened some concepts.  Like financial education, investing, assets and liabilities, income, and OPM (other people's money).  Very interesting.

"They that can give up essential liberty to obtain a little temporary safety deserve neither liberty nor safety."
-Ben Franklin

btw, it's very likely that these recent entries, and henceforth, all entries will probably be entered thru the Google Blogger Widget.  Is it possible they have one for PC/Win?  Like i use my PC, anyway.  Yahoo! Central or whatever it's called.  I have it, but often shut it down for performance reasons.

Which reminds me, I have to take steps to make sure my PC is performing better, because it is simply agony trying to use it.  Thankfully, I don't have to use PC (piece of crap) in my home or personally.  Strictly (and only) business.

using skype, finally!

i'm all about skype.  finally i have someone to use it with on a consistent basis, and i'm loving it.

it's an interesting social practice, aside from the fact that it's free computer-to-computer voicechat, and requires a good internet connection and a microfone.

and, if you wanna talk from your computer to a phone, you can do it also, paying low rates. pay by credit card, or with paypal. i sound like an ad for them, i just think it's so awesome. the technology is not out of this world, it's actually kinda simple and kinda old ideas applied in a new way. but the result is so earth-flattening: suddenly you can talk with people who are very far away, as though they were in the very room with you.

simply amazing.

Neat!  I just discovered the Google Blogger Widget for Mac OS X's Dashboard.

I bet I'm going to use this more often, and significantly increase my blog entries.

Thanks, Google.  You're the sh&$z-nit