Some weeks ago I read an article in Newsweek on manhood nowadays.
There are a lot of interesting ideas in this text. The first one is that men’s share of the labor force has declined. According to Newsweek as the U.S. economy has transitioned from brawn to brain over the past three decades, a growing number of woman have gone off to work.
The second idea is that women have matched or overtaken men as a percentage of students in college and graduate school.
And what have men done? Some men have turned to old models and mores of manhood for salvation. As a result the term “retrosexual” is replacing “metrosexual”. And this impulse transcends race and class.
As Newsweek says, in my opinion this reaction only perpetuates the problem. What men of the world should do is to look for models which help them to adapt to times.
Men must look at Sweden where they maybe can find the model for the new man.
Our society has got a new woman and now need a new man. We are going to need laws and rules which must help us to build a better world.
Some years ago, I gave up reading detective stories, especially if they were bestsellers. So I should have not started to read the trilogy called Millennium written by Stieg Larsson.
There was a huge media campaign on these books which, of course, it influenced on my decision of reading them. Moreover, I read a review on this novel written by the recent Nobel Prize Mario Vargas Llosa. For him, this is a good book and his reasons encouraged me to read the book.
Besides, I was given the first two tomes as a present and I felt obliged to read them (or, at least, to try to read them). So I started and… I can not continue after the page 40,… It appeared to be too boring, too much foreseeable. So I surrendered.
However, one day I talked with a friend who was keen on Millennium and she talked me that the first pages were the worst and that if I continued reading, I would enjoy the book. She is a good friend and I trust on her so I gave the book another chance.
She was right. The story caught me and I have not been able to stop reading until I have finished the third part.
Although it is true that there are too much stereotypes in the plot, there are also some original ideas. I especially like the main character, Lisbeth Salander, a little and dark woman who is asocial, punk, bisexual, violent if necessary and incredibly strong. She is a little woman who is in war against the world. She appears no to need anybody because she knows how to take care of herself. She does not want to be helped.
And the first question which an intelligent reader must be made is what is the reason why Lisbeth is this way.
Do you want to know what is the reason? If so, you have to read it. (And, please, tell me your comments)
Regarding Ghent, my piece of advice is not to visit this town. I mean not to visit it just now. The reason is that all the town is 'in contruction'. Streets and roads are opened as after a bomb attack and there are a lot of scaffolds which hide the facades. It is better to wait for another chance. My recommendation is to let these people finish their works. Maybe in summer time...
By the way, I have not been able to avoid taking this photography. As you can see McDonalds does not respect anything. They do not mind to destroy the harmony of a beauty square with one of their horrible restaurants.
What people told her was ‘you must forget that man’. She was warned by people who loved her, ‘this man is going to kill you’. She did not listen to people’s advice. What she used to say was something about love and feeling, big words. She tried to hide bruises. Everybody knew the truth. Nobody avoided this grey and rainy morning, nor our black clothes neither the solemnity of the old priest.
Old pirates, yes, they rob I; Sold I to the merchant ships, Minutes after they took I From the bottomless pit. But my hand was made strong By the 'and of the Almighty. We forward in this generation Triumphantly. Won't you help to sing This songs of freedom 'Cause all I ever have: Redemption songs; Redemption songs. Emancipate yourselves from mental slavery; None but ourselves can free our minds. Have no fear for atomic energy, 'Cause none of them can stop the time. How long shall they kill our prophets, While we stand aside and look? Ooh! Some say it's just a part of it: We've got to fullfil the book. Won't you help to sing This songs of freedom- 'Cause all I ever have: Redemption songs; Redemption songs; Redemption songs. --- /Guitar break/ --- Emancipate yourselves from mental slavery; None but ourselves can free our mind. Wo! Have no fear for atomic energy, 'Cause none of them-a can-a stop-a the time. How long shall they kill our prophets, While we stand aside and look? Yes, some say it's just a part of it: We've got to fullfil the book. Won't you have to sing This songs of freedom? - 'Cause all I ever had: Redemption songs - All I ever had: Redemption songs: These songs of freedom, Songs of freedom.
Nothing to say. It is just a quiet Sunday before taking a decision. This Monday must be the end of something and the beginning of a new life. Too much time waiting for starting. Tomorrow is the day. Not more time goes by. From now on I am going to be who I believe I am.
I am the boss. I take decisions and people must do which I ask for.
The company trusts on me. Everybody appears to wait for my opinions.
I am alone like a long distance runner. Some people wait for me to be defeated. Other people believe in me. What do I want?
The life should be this, or something like this. You met somebody. Ok, you have met a lot of people and you will met a lot more people. But a day, suddenly, you met a special person. We can say that you loved each other. In any case you got married. Then you started to live together. Then the time started to run more and more quickly. But… what would it happen if you stop and look at that woman? You might wonder, who is she?
Who are you little girl? Who have you come here with? Who bought this sax for you? Who taught you how to play music? Who will spend the money that people give you? … Who will judge this sin? ... I'd rather give you a kiss than some coins. They won't be able to use my kiss for their dirty business. Little girl, I need you to promise me that when you are a woman you are still innocent and pure. Before continuing my walk I need to know that your music will always be so beautiful like your little face. Bye, bye, little girl.
"The basic point- which can also be illustrated by considering the phenomenon of the blind spot- is that with any incomplete perception- and needless to say all perceptions are incomplete- the observer "fills in" by extrapolating from experience. Or from desire. Or from desire's other face, aversion. So basically, we focus fuzzy images by transforming them into what we expect to see, or what we most dread to see. By what, in other words, already exists in our mind, what we already have available on file, however dusty the folder."
from Atmospheric Disturbances by Rivka Galchen
Before being stolen in the bus between Brussels and the Airport of Charleroi, I could take some pictures of a cold and grey Brussels morning.
This one shows the pub called Zebra. It is a really good place to have a good time. It is usually full of people and there is live music but thanks to the magic of photography I could catch this quiet and silent instant of serenity.
He put his hands in his coat pockets and turned back eagerly to his scrutiny of the house, as though my presence marred the sacredness of the vigil. So I walked away and left him standing there in the moonlight watching over nothing.
First he nodded politely, and then his face broke into that radiant and understanding smile, as if we’d been in ecstatic cahoots on that fact all the time.
So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past.
(This is the last sentence of “The Great Gatsby”. This sentence is also on the grave of Scott Fitzgerald and his wife Zelda.)
"I've got something to tell you, old sport. Your wife doesn´t love you. She's never loved you. She loves me. She never loved you, do you hear? She only married you because I was poor and she was tired of waiting for me. It was a terrible mistake, but in her heart she never loved any one except me!"
Having breakfast. Close to the “Puerta del Sol” in Madrid. As you can see in the attached photo it is a really delicious breakfast. Yogurt and forest fruits (I do not know if this expression makes sense in English). On holiday, yes, the life is easy.
The background music is jazz and softly enter our minds… There is a lonely girl reading. She would be a character of my current reading (The Great Gatsby).
Three noisy Spanish people speak louder than the rest but the general sensation is good.
Behind me, in the other side of the window, the Sun. Although it is 10:08, this town appears to be awaked just now.
Scott Fitzgerald is really good. I found him some years ago when I read “Tender is the Night”. Last December I read an interesting book on his wife Zelda and him. Since then I love this couple.
Another point for Fitzgerald: one of my favourite current writers, Haruki Murakami, likes him. In fact, Murakami has translated “The Great Gatsby” into Japanese.
I love the way he describes people, not only their bodies but their behaviours and thoughts too. The way he is able to paint people with words.
This is a love story. I think this is one of the two best books on love I have ever read. The other one is “62 Modelo para armar” by the Argentinean writer Julio Cortázar.
(I have just known a lucid moment and it is clear for me the fact that I should leave all and try to live. Maybe I am a poet… or something.)
(Excuse me boss, don’t worry, next Tuesday I am going to be working again.)
The following excerpt is from the book "What I talk about when I talk about running" by Haruki Murakami. I recommend you this amazing book because Mr Murakami doesn't only talk about running but about the way he writes too.
As I suspect is true of many who write for a living, as I write I think about all sorts of things. I don't necessarily write down what I'm thinking; it's just that as I write I think about things. As I write, I arrange my thoughts. And rewriting and revising takes my thinking down even deeper paths. No matter how much I write, though, I never reach a conclusion. And no matter how much I rewrite, I never reach the destination. Even after decades of writing, the same still holds true. All I do is present a few hypotheses or paraphrase the issue. Or find an analogy between the structure of the problem and something else.
This has been the fourth book written by Mr Murakami I have read. All of them are really good though for different reasons.
The first one was The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle. A magic novel about love and mistery.
The second one was Norwegian Wood. The same rithm, the same music behind the words,... excellent.
Then I read a really hard essay about the terrible terrorist attack in Tokyo (The Tokyo Gas Attack and the Japanese Psyche) . (I talked about it in a post of this blog on XXX),
And this autobiographical text has been the last one (until now).
In my opinion he was a crazy man. He was sure of being gone after by somebody. He was sure of being surrounded by enemies. I thought he was a crazy man. Not because I did not believe that people were gone after him but because I did not mind what people did. He was a crazy man but he belonged to the social system. However I was a crazy outsider far away from the society.
Here you can see my first speech for the people. The problem is that I am too shy... I know what you are thinking and,... yes, I also wonder what is the reason why my partners wore bread on their heads. Everything is crazy... I hope me to be a good politician... or something.