Crowe dejó que las palabras surtieran efecto un momento. Había pensado mucho sobre el enfoque del proyecto. Finalmente se había convencido de que fracasaría de antemano si no lograba combatir los prejuicios de los miembros de la expedición.
- Lo que quiero decir es que en la ciencia ficción prácticamente no hay un tratamiento serio de esas culturas extrañas. De hecho, los extraterrestres aparecen generalmente como una expresión aumentada hasta lo grotesco de los miedos y esperanzas humanos. Los alienígenas de Encuentros del tercer tipo simbolizan nuestra nostalgia del paraíso perdido. En el fondo son ángeles, y de hecho se comportan como tales. Algunos elegidos son llevados a la luz. Por otra parte, nadie se interesa por la cultura que pudieran haber desarrollado esos extraterrestres. Sirven a las representaciones religiosas más simples. Todo en ellos es profundamente humano, porque así lo desean los humanos; incluso su forma de aparición responde a nuestros valores: luz blanca resplandeciente, visiones etéreas..., exactamente como nos gustaría que sucediese. Esos seres son tan poco extraterrestres como los de Independence Day. En este caso se trata de seres malvados, pues representan nuestro concepto de maldad. Tampoco a ellos se les concede una auténtica existencia. El bien y el mal son valores definidos por los seres humanos. Prácticamente ninguna historia despierta interés si no los tiene en cuenta. Y es que nos resulta difícil asumir que nuestros valores no sean compartidos por los demás y que nuestros conceptos del bien y del mal no correspondan con los suyos. Para llegar a semejante conclusión no es necesario escuchar el universo. Cada nación, cada cultura tiene sus propios extraterrestres, y son siempre los que están al otro lado de la frontera. Si no asumimos esto, no podremos comunicarnos con esa inteligencia desconocida, pues lo más probable es que no haya una base de valores en común, que no haya un bien y un mal universal; posiblemente ni siquiera disponemos de sistemas sensoriales compatibles para poder comunicarnos.
[...]
- Si queremos comenzar a pensar en contactos reales con extraterrestres, quizá deberíamos imaginarnos un estado de hormigas. Como saben, las hormigas son sumamente organizadas pero no son realmente inteligentes. No obstante, supongamos que lo fueran. Entonces tendríamos que comunicarnos con una inteligencia colectiva que devora a los enfermos y heridos sin considerarlo moralmente reprobable, que hace la guerra sin comprender nuestra idea de paz, que considera la reproducción individual como algo completamente inaudito y que intercambia y consume excrementos de manera habitual; es decir, una comunidad que funciona de un modo completamente diferente, pero que funciona. Y ahora demos un paso más, imaginen que ni siquiera reconocemos como tal a esa inteligencia extraña. A Leon, por ejemplo, le gustaría saber si los delfines son inteligentes, de modo que realiza complicadas pruebas; pero ¿eso le aporta alguna certeza? Y por otro lado, ¿cómo nos ven los otros? Los yrr nos combaten, pero ¿nos consideran inteligentes? Espero estar siendo suficientemente clara... Con independencia de lo que hagamos en nuestra misión, nunca lograremos acercarnos a los yrr si consideramos nuestros valores como el centro del mundo y del universo. Debemos reducirnos a lo que somos de facto: una de la incontables formas de vida posibles que carecen de derechos especiales sobre el gran todo.
Schätzing, Frank. (2006). El Quinto Día. España: Planeta Internacional. pp. 654
septiembre 30, 2007
septiembre 13, 2007
Prevent This Tragedy
En 1993, tres jóvenes (Jessie Misskelley, Jason Baldwin y Damien Echols) fueron arrestados por cometer tres asesinatos. ¿La evidencia? Ninguna. ¿Su condena? Escuchar heavy metal, leer novelas de Stephen King y la creencia de que realizaban cultos satánicos.
Hoy, siguen encarcelados, uno de ellos esperando cumplir su sentencia de muerte.
¿A cuántos no juzgan ignorantemente bajo el adjetivo "satánico"? Injusticias como ésta pueden prevenirse con un poco de información y tolerancia.
Dos miembros de Alkaline Trio pertenecen a la Iglesia de Satán y escribieron una canción al respecto:
Prevent this tragedy
Here we are again with handguns for hearts
They had a master plan, wanted to tear us apart
Nothing to hold, all hope deleted
Our demise has been completed now
Nowhere left to go but down
The flames of hell they give me hope, I drown
In oceans of this tragic part of town
Where nothing's heard for miles but the sound
Of children wishing they were safely underground
We are the walking dead, we hold this ghost in our arms
We take our daily breath and thank our unlucky stars
Tried to get by on bread and water
Craving blood poured from the alter now
Not much left to do but drown
In flames of miscommunication, down
Then out and off in search of someone proud
To translate what we truly dream about
As we lay in this bed thinking out loud
I'm screaming uncle, mercy me
And my broken telepathy
For I'm left with nothing but this bloodless riverbank
West Memphis, please
I'm begging you to stop praying for me!
Down
The flames of hell they give me hope, I drown
In oceans of this tragic part of town
Where nothing's heard for miles but the sound
Of children wishing they were safely underground
In oceans of this tragic part of town
Where nothing's heard for miles but the sound
Of children wishing they were safely underground
Neither you or I are in control
El simulador oceánico parecía reducir la naturaleza a medidas asumibles para el ser humano, pero reproducía con fidelidad las condiciones reales. Aunque a pequeña escala, podían dominar el mar. Habían creado un mundo de segunda mano, una de esas copias idealizadas que a los seres humanoa les resultan más familiares que la propia realidad. ¿Quién desea saber cómo era la vida en la Edad Media si Hollywood la recrea a su manera? ¿A quién le interesa conocer cómo muere un pez, cómo se desangra, lo abren y le extraen las vísceras si lo que compramos son trozos exhibidos sobre hielo? En Estados Unidos, los niños dibujan pollos con seis patas porque los muslos de pollo se venden en envases de seis unidades. Tomamos leche de un envase de cartón, pero nos da asco el contenido de una ubre. Nuestra percepción del mundo se deforma, y como consecuencia observamos nuestro entorno con suma arrogancia. Bohrmann estaba entusiasmado con el simulador y sus posibilidades. Al mismo tiempo, el tanque le mostraba que la ciencia corría el riesgo de volverse ciega cuando, en lugar de observar el objeto de su investigación, se limitaba a recrearlo. Ya no se trataba de entender el planeta, sino de doblegarlo. Y en aquella realidad falseada, la intervención humana recibía una nueva y terrible justificación.
Cada vez que Bohrmann entraba en el pabellón, le pasaba por la cabeza el mismo pensamiento: nunca estaremos en condiciones de obtener certezas sobre lo que es factible, sino sólo sobre aquello en lo que no deberíamos intervenir. Pero después nos olvidamos de nuestros buenos propósitos.
Schätzing, Frank. (2006). El Quinto Día. España: Planeta Internacional. pp. 271
UnderOath - A moment suspended in time Lyrics
Cada vez que Bohrmann entraba en el pabellón, le pasaba por la cabeza el mismo pensamiento: nunca estaremos en condiciones de obtener certezas sobre lo que es factible, sino sólo sobre aquello en lo que no deberíamos intervenir. Pero después nos olvidamos de nuestros buenos propósitos.
Schätzing, Frank. (2006). El Quinto Día. España: Planeta Internacional. pp. 271
UnderOath - A moment suspended in time Lyrics
septiembre 08, 2007
...and who hears when animals cry?
-Sé adónde quieres llegar -comentó tras una breve pausa-. Crees que demostrar la mayor cantidad posible de rasgos humanos en los animales no puede ser el camino para darles un trato más humano.
-Es arrogante -contestó Delaware con vehemencia.
-Estoy de acuerdo, no resuelve ningún problema. Pero a la mayoría de la gente les gusta pensar que la vida es tanto más digna de protección cuanto más se asemeja a la humana. Es mucho más fácil matar a un animal que a un ser humano, pero se vuelve más difícil si consideramos al animal como un pariente cercano. La mayoría de los humanos ya están dispuestos a aceptar que tal vez no seamos los dueños de la creación y que en la escala de valores de la vida no estamos delante de todos los demás, sino al lado. Eso conduce a un dilema: ¿cómo podría sentir el mismo respeto por un animal o una planta que por un ser humano, si al mismo tiempo valoro más la vida humana que la de una hormiga, un delfín o un mono?
Schätzing, Frank. (2006). El Quinto Día. España: Planeta Internacional. pp. 103
-Es arrogante -contestó Delaware con vehemencia.
-Estoy de acuerdo, no resuelve ningún problema. Pero a la mayoría de la gente les gusta pensar que la vida es tanto más digna de protección cuanto más se asemeja a la humana. Es mucho más fácil matar a un animal que a un ser humano, pero se vuelve más difícil si consideramos al animal como un pariente cercano. La mayoría de los humanos ya están dispuestos a aceptar que tal vez no seamos los dueños de la creación y que en la escala de valores de la vida no estamos delante de todos los demás, sino al lado. Eso conduce a un dilema: ¿cómo podría sentir el mismo respeto por un animal o una planta que por un ser humano, si al mismo tiempo valoro más la vida humana que la de una hormiga, un delfín o un mono?
Schätzing, Frank. (2006). El Quinto Día. España: Planeta Internacional. pp. 103
agosto 31, 2007
Globalization Screwed Relationships Chapter 6
Chapter 6
So tired and yet so awake. So hurt and yet so apathetic. So silent, I can hear a pin drop. So loud, I can't hear my own breathing anymore.
But the only thing I want to hear is her laughter. I said I would never forget the sound of my name echoing in her chest. Now, the memories are the headquarters of an insomniac. I know someday I'll forget.
I can see sunny days coming near; the joy of spring; the singing of birds; the excitement of new memories, a new echo in someone else's chest. But they haven't come yet. And in name of all that was ever sacred for me, for us, I'm ripping the sun apart; bringing snow back; restraining all the songbirds' racket; blowing up my brains; cutting of my ears; staking everybody's chests; carving you into my skin. You will always own all of my dreams.
The nightmares I had thrown under my bed, now even fill my cabinets. Whoever said monsters are illusions in our head, surely later had his regrets. Everywhere I turn, I see one of them. One lying next to me. One in the closet is giving me a smirk. One sitting on my computer winking at me. One is taking a bath singing with glee. Another one hiding inside of me, just waiting for me to fall asleep.
And I do. Silently, the night is welcoming me. I'm going home.
So tired and yet so awake. So hurt and yet so apathetic. So silent, I can hear a pin drop. So loud, I can't hear my own breathing anymore.
But the only thing I want to hear is her laughter. I said I would never forget the sound of my name echoing in her chest. Now, the memories are the headquarters of an insomniac. I know someday I'll forget.
I can see sunny days coming near; the joy of spring; the singing of birds; the excitement of new memories, a new echo in someone else's chest. But they haven't come yet. And in name of all that was ever sacred for me, for us, I'm ripping the sun apart; bringing snow back; restraining all the songbirds' racket; blowing up my brains; cutting of my ears; staking everybody's chests; carving you into my skin. You will always own all of my dreams.
The nightmares I had thrown under my bed, now even fill my cabinets. Whoever said monsters are illusions in our head, surely later had his regrets. Everywhere I turn, I see one of them. One lying next to me. One in the closet is giving me a smirk. One sitting on my computer winking at me. One is taking a bath singing with glee. Another one hiding inside of me, just waiting for me to fall asleep.
And I do. Silently, the night is welcoming me. I'm going home.
You will be the death of me...
Sonnet 141
William Shakespeare
In faith, I do not love thee with mine eyes,
For they in thee a thousand errors note;
But 'tis my heart that loves what they despise,
Who in despite of view is pleased to dote.
Nor are mine ears with thy tongue's tune delighted:
Nor tender feeling, to base touches prone,
Nor taste, nor smell, desire to be invited
To any sensual feast with thee alone:
But my five wits nor my five senses can
Dissuade one foolish heart from serving thee.
Who leaves unsway'd the likeness of a man,
Thy proud heart's slave and vassal wretch to be;
Only my plague thus far I count my gain,
That (s)he that makes me sin, awards me pain.
¿No entendiste? "Traducción" aquí.
William Shakespeare
In faith, I do not love thee with mine eyes,
For they in thee a thousand errors note;
But 'tis my heart that loves what they despise,
Who in despite of view is pleased to dote.
Nor are mine ears with thy tongue's tune delighted:
Nor tender feeling, to base touches prone,
Nor taste, nor smell, desire to be invited
To any sensual feast with thee alone:
But my five wits nor my five senses can
Dissuade one foolish heart from serving thee.
Who leaves unsway'd the likeness of a man,
Thy proud heart's slave and vassal wretch to be;
Only my plague thus far I count my gain,
That (s)he that makes me sin, awards me pain.
¿No entendiste? "Traducción" aquí.
agosto 27, 2007
Globalization Screwed Relationships Chapter 5
Chapter 5
Life is just a series of reactions to the unknown. Big cities are unpredictable lying machines. Unpunctuality is blamed on traffic. Forgetfulness on stress. Laziness on unemployment. Cheating on overpopulation. Everything in between these buildings is lies, faintly tainted with truth. An everyday event is turned into a life-altering event.
So humans invented lie-proof devices: cellphones, beepers, GPS... Even kids have one of those. Hence, one's trust in another is left in an undying tool. How can any relationship be succesful without trust? How can one trust in an old fashioned way? As much as it hurts, humans have made themselves dependant on artificial eyes, ears and hands. Concrete walls may block your view, roaring motors may deafen your ears, a love for plastic may numb your touch... but you'll always have something to regain your senses.
Kenny and Willow never left their cellphones at home. They talked to each other frequently, if not by text messages, they'd chat or drop comments and e-mails. They saw each other every day, at school, after school, on weekends, on holidays; but they felt that keeping communication shortened the distance and the anxiety to see each other. Sometimes, imagination (mixed with jealousy and frenzy) would get the best of them, and a simple call was all they needed to breathe easily again. Unconsciously, they kept track of the other's activities; they trusted each other, but checking in wouldn't hurt either.
Ironically, you still have to rely on a human being who creates the magical devices... or in the voice at the other end of the line. Without knowing, they had turned their relationship into an eternal attendance check. Unfortunately, distance and presence cannot be dismissed forever.
Life is just a series of reactions to the unknown. Big cities are unpredictable lying machines. Unpunctuality is blamed on traffic. Forgetfulness on stress. Laziness on unemployment. Cheating on overpopulation. Everything in between these buildings is lies, faintly tainted with truth. An everyday event is turned into a life-altering event.
So humans invented lie-proof devices: cellphones, beepers, GPS... Even kids have one of those. Hence, one's trust in another is left in an undying tool. How can any relationship be succesful without trust? How can one trust in an old fashioned way? As much as it hurts, humans have made themselves dependant on artificial eyes, ears and hands. Concrete walls may block your view, roaring motors may deafen your ears, a love for plastic may numb your touch... but you'll always have something to regain your senses.
Kenny and Willow never left their cellphones at home. They talked to each other frequently, if not by text messages, they'd chat or drop comments and e-mails. They saw each other every day, at school, after school, on weekends, on holidays; but they felt that keeping communication shortened the distance and the anxiety to see each other. Sometimes, imagination (mixed with jealousy and frenzy) would get the best of them, and a simple call was all they needed to breathe easily again. Unconsciously, they kept track of the other's activities; they trusted each other, but checking in wouldn't hurt either.
Ironically, you still have to rely on a human being who creates the magical devices... or in the voice at the other end of the line. Without knowing, they had turned their relationship into an eternal attendance check. Unfortunately, distance and presence cannot be dismissed forever.
El Juego
Tengo que admitir que soy bastante renuente a participar en jueguitos online. Me da flojera cumplir con lo que me piden, y no me gusta forzar a otros a participar. No obstante, esto es más divertido que no hacer nada.
Las reglas:
1. Cada jugador (a) comienza con un listado de 8 cosas sobre sí mismo.
2. Tiene que escribir en su blog esas ocho cosas, junto con las reglas del juego.
3. Tiene que seleccionar a 8 personas más para invitar a jugar, y anotar sus blogs/nombres.
4. No olvides dejarles un comentario en sus blogs respectivos de que han sido invitadas a participar, refiriendo al post de tu blog: "El Juego".
Acerca de mí:
1. Me gustan las listas.
2. Si pudiera, le pondría Sirius a uno de mis hijos.
3. Me choca llamar la atención.
4. Planeo ponerme un tatuaje que diga: You must keep your soul like a secret in your throat.
5. Lloro con casi todas las películas.
6. Me gustan las ecuaciones polares que forman corazoncitos.
7. Me desagradan en extremo los caballos.
8. Mi color favorito es el amarillo.
Torturo con este juego a:
- Mariana D.
- Vero
- Jessica
- Andrea
- Lollah
- Vic
... y ya...
Las reglas:
1. Cada jugador (a) comienza con un listado de 8 cosas sobre sí mismo.
2. Tiene que escribir en su blog esas ocho cosas, junto con las reglas del juego.
3. Tiene que seleccionar a 8 personas más para invitar a jugar, y anotar sus blogs/nombres.
4. No olvides dejarles un comentario en sus blogs respectivos de que han sido invitadas a participar, refiriendo al post de tu blog: "El Juego".
Acerca de mí:
1. Me gustan las listas.
2. Si pudiera, le pondría Sirius a uno de mis hijos.
3. Me choca llamar la atención.
4. Planeo ponerme un tatuaje que diga: You must keep your soul like a secret in your throat.
5. Lloro con casi todas las películas.
6. Me gustan las ecuaciones polares que forman corazoncitos.
7. Me desagradan en extremo los caballos.
8. Mi color favorito es el amarillo.
Torturo con este juego a:
- Mariana D.
- Vero
- Jessica
- Andrea
- Lollah
- Vic
... y ya...
agosto 26, 2007
Globalization Screwed Relationships Chapter 4
Chapter 4
Blue and yellow make green. Red and yellow make orange. Would brown and yellow make hazel? Maybe if someone invented a machine to materialize his dreams... impossible. He'd been watching too many sci-fi movies trying to forget reality, anything to forget... or maybe, unconsciously, he was just trying to create his own reality.
Unfortunately, his world wasn't a movie. Ideas don't create reality... on the contrary, reality dictates ideas, real pain builds desires. Movies had the ability to capture any moment worth remembering, and were able to repeat it over and over and over again until the tape didn't work anymore... you could also make several copies, hundreds, thousands... just to keep remembering... BUT you could never re-live it.
Stares. Someone watching him suspiciously again. How he hated it here. He used to belong at least to one person, but places seemed unwelcoming without her. He knew he caught everyone's attention: blond hair with bright green spikes, lip and eyebrow piercing, black eyeliner sorrounding his sad grey eyes. The sun outside made his eyes shine with the kind of light that vampires enjoy... none at all. His weather these days was either gloomy or just rainy. He was turning into a vampire, an undead; puffy red eyes and dark mood, empty soul and a desire for blood, except he wished it was his own spilled on the floor. Could anyone grant his wish?
Blue and yellow make green. Red and yellow make orange. Would brown and yellow make hazel? Maybe if someone invented a machine to materialize his dreams... impossible. He'd been watching too many sci-fi movies trying to forget reality, anything to forget... or maybe, unconsciously, he was just trying to create his own reality.
Unfortunately, his world wasn't a movie. Ideas don't create reality... on the contrary, reality dictates ideas, real pain builds desires. Movies had the ability to capture any moment worth remembering, and were able to repeat it over and over and over again until the tape didn't work anymore... you could also make several copies, hundreds, thousands... just to keep remembering... BUT you could never re-live it.
Stares. Someone watching him suspiciously again. How he hated it here. He used to belong at least to one person, but places seemed unwelcoming without her. He knew he caught everyone's attention: blond hair with bright green spikes, lip and eyebrow piercing, black eyeliner sorrounding his sad grey eyes. The sun outside made his eyes shine with the kind of light that vampires enjoy... none at all. His weather these days was either gloomy or just rainy. He was turning into a vampire, an undead; puffy red eyes and dark mood, empty soul and a desire for blood, except he wished it was his own spilled on the floor. Could anyone grant his wish?
agosto 23, 2007
Globalization Screwed Relationships Chapter 3
Chapter 3
Without telling each other, they'd been waiting for this all their lives. The tickling caused by the other's caress, the shivers provoked by the other's breath, the feeling of dying from completeness. There's nothing more than this moment, this place, this unity of the diverse, this belonging of the opposites, this unsaid vow.
His lips trace her jaw, her neck, her chest. Her lips move without saying a word, choked by feelings. There's no need to say a thing. This is what eternal love is. It takes forever to become one, sweet pain. It takes forever to regain your breath, addictive lust. The Earth will shatter, but they've got no reason to run or move at all. This is life, if their existence ends there, so be it. Their bodies are their shells, but their souls have found a way to touch. Together, they explode in silence; there can't be any greater pleasure.
She smiles, runs her hands through his hair. For a second, they can't even remember their own names. Their worlds have been reduced to the person in front of them. No sounds outside, no time ticking by, nothing else. Started by nothing, finished with nothing. Wished to fill the emptiness, now sorrounded by emptiness. Just wishing this was forever.
Without telling each other, they'd been waiting for this all their lives. The tickling caused by the other's caress, the shivers provoked by the other's breath, the feeling of dying from completeness. There's nothing more than this moment, this place, this unity of the diverse, this belonging of the opposites, this unsaid vow.
His lips trace her jaw, her neck, her chest. Her lips move without saying a word, choked by feelings. There's no need to say a thing. This is what eternal love is. It takes forever to become one, sweet pain. It takes forever to regain your breath, addictive lust. The Earth will shatter, but they've got no reason to run or move at all. This is life, if their existence ends there, so be it. Their bodies are their shells, but their souls have found a way to touch. Together, they explode in silence; there can't be any greater pleasure.
She smiles, runs her hands through his hair. For a second, they can't even remember their own names. Their worlds have been reduced to the person in front of them. No sounds outside, no time ticking by, nothing else. Started by nothing, finished with nothing. Wished to fill the emptiness, now sorrounded by emptiness. Just wishing this was forever.
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