Who said they are pompous? ... Barking could not concentrate on my study of politics and the state of the seventeenth century ... sometimes I feel I would that have signed up for Free. But a moment later comforted me, not only because I really like history but because it was Free, I would spend the same but in reverse. I am convinced that what distracts us from our obligation ends up being what we consider more we love, but it is a hoax.
Finally, focusing instead could not, so I got to surf blogs. I visited Nilda 's friend, and find it there: I was expecting a heavy night Cortázar, long, noble reading. I was waiting for me, he always gave me this: I feel that their stories are waiting for me, long time ago not reread. In the blog I learned friend that today marks another anniversary of the death of Cortázar, and in honor of the long post this is one of Nilda. But also found this excellent story that is "Axolotl" ... there from Endgame, Julio talks about animal-human relationship, the creation of the camouflage, out of nowhere ... But while finished it I realized I needed to re-read another story in question, yes or yes ...
Who said they are pompous Heaven's Gate? I do not think so ... this picture reflects my view on them.
needed to read Gates of Heaven Cortazar. Since the first of five or six times I've read I always thought one of the best stories about him. Perhaps because it is much more argentinidad that several of the others, maybe because I sent some stories told by my old, safe because it speaks of something as mundane as the friction with the thin barrier between life and death ...
The truth is I needed to read it. Because a couple of hours daily that barrier again showed me that the essence of people do not go away, because this day Cortázar I checked in first person, because I could not sleep.
I read, I turned to thrill ... Who said they are pomposasa? I do not imagine them pompous or luxurious. I imagine them simple, very simple ... like the people you love ... _______________________________________________________
The gates of heaven At eight came José María with the news, almost bluntly told me that Celina had just died. I remember that I noticed instantly in the phrase, Celina had just died a little as if she had decided the time was that close. It was almost dark and José María trembling lips to tell me.
-Mauro has taken it so badly, I left it like crazy. Better go.
I had to finish some notes, apart from that a friend had promised to take her to dinner. I pasted a couple of phones and went with Jose Maria to find a taxi. Mauro and Celina lived Canning and Santa Fe, so we gave him ten minutes from home. And as we approached we saw people who stood in the doorway with a guilty and cut air and on the way I knew that Celina had started vomiting blood at six, Mauro brought to the doctor and his mother was with them. It seems that the doctor began writing a long recipe when Celina opened his eyes and that was to die with a sort of cough, more like a whistle.
"I held him to Mauro, Dr Mauro had to leave because he wanted to pull over. Nah, you know how he is when he gets angry. I thought
Celina in Celina last face waiting for us at home. Almost did not hear the cries of the old and the commotion in the yard, but instead I agree that cost two and sixty taxi that the driver had a cap of shiny material of alpaca. I saw two or three friends from the bar Mauro, who read the Reason in the door, a blue dress baby in her arms and her ginger cat whiskers stroked minute. Further in the clamor began and the smell of decay.
-Andá
veil told Mauro José Maria. You know I should give you enough birdseed.
walked in the kitchen and with the material. The vigil was organized only in itself: faces, beverages, heat. Now that Celina had just died, amazing how long people in a neighborhood around (to the auditions of questions and answers) to become the scene. A bulb grumbled loudly when I passed the kitchen and I went to the mortuary room. Misia Manita and another woman looked at me from the dark background, where the bed seemed to be floating on a quince jelly. I realized for the upper air that had just wash and shroud Celina, even smelled faintly of vinegar. "Poor little
finadita Martita Misia said. Come in, doctor, go see it. It seems as if asleep. Enduring
putearla desire I got into the hot broth Part. It was while I was looking at without seeing Celina and now let me go to her, straight black hair born from a low forehead which shone like mother-of-guitar, shallow dish-white of his face without remedy. I realized that I had nothing to do there, that was now part of women, of mourners arriving at night. Mauro could not even go in peace to sit next to Celina, Celina was not even there waiting, that thing was turning white and black side of the mourners, the issue still favored their being repeated. Best Mauro, go find Mauro was on our side.
From the dining room was deaf guards in the hallway smoking without light. Peña, crazy Bazán, the two younger brothers Mauro and an old indefinable greeted me with respect.
"Thanks for coming," said one doctor. Nah, you always such a good friend of the poor Mauro.
"Friends are seen in these critical moments," said the old man, giving me a hand that seemed like a live sardine.
All this happened, but I was back to Celina and Mauro at Luna Park, dancing in the Carnival of the forty-two celestial Celine did so badly with its slanted type, Mauro palm-beach and I with Mamou six whiskeys and a father. I liked going out with Mauro and Celina to attend to your hard sideways Hot and happiness. The more I reproached these friendships, more I snuggled up to them (my days, my time) to witness the existence of which they themselves knew nothing.
- I pulled the ball, a groan came from the part by climbing through the doors.
"That must be the mother," said the madman Bazán, almost satisfied.
"perfect syllogistic humble, I thought. "Celina dead mother comes, cry mother." I think so disgusted once again be thinking about everything that was enough for others to feel. Mauro and Celina had not been my guinea pigs, no. He loved them, how much I love them. Only I could never get in its simplicity, but I was forced to feed by reflection of his blood, I am Dr. Hardoy, a lawyer who does not comply with the Buenos Aires coroner or music or riding, and moves all it can to other hallways. I know that behind that is the curious, the notes gradually fill my file. Celina and Mauro But no, Celina and Mauro no.
"Who was going to say this," I heard Peña. So fast ...
"Well, you know that the lung was very wrong. "Yes, but so ...
defending land is open. Too bad the lung, but even so ... Celina should not expect his death to her and Mauro TB was "weakness." I saw it again spinning enthusiast Mauro's arms, the orchestra Canaro up there and the smell of powder cheap. After maxixe danced with me, the track was a horror of people and haze. "How well he dances, Marcelo", and surprised that a lawyer would be able to follow a maxixe. Neither she nor Mauro tutearon me ever, I spoke to you but Celina Mauro returned the treatment. Celina cost him leave the "doctor", perhaps the pride give me the title in front of others, my friend the doctor.
I asked Mauro told him, then began the "Homework. So they came a little to me but I was as far as possible. Or going to dances together, to box up football (Mauro played years ago in Ra-cing) or Mateando late into the kitchen. When he finished the case and I did win five thousand dollars to Mauro, Celina was the first to ask me I do not go away, it was to see them. And was not good, his voice was always a little hoarse increasingly weak. He coughed at night, bought her Neurofosfato Mauro Escay it was idiotic, and Iron Quina Bisleri, things you read in magazines and it takes confidence.
We went to dances together, and I watched them live.
"It's good that you talk to Mauro," said Jose Maria, who suddenly sprang to my side. He will do well.
I, but I was thinking all the time in Celina. It was ugly admit, I actually did was to collect and sort out my chips on Celina, unwritten but never by hand. Mauro wept openly as any healthy animal in this world without any shame. I took my hands and the sweat moistened with fever. When José María forced him to drink gin, the two sobs swallowed a strange noise. And the phrases that stupid splash with his whole life in the dark consciousness of irreparable thing had happened to Celina but he only blamed and resented. The great narcissism toilet and finally free to make the show. I was disgusted by Mauro but much more of myself, and I started drinking cheap brandy me LABOCA burned without pleasure. Already running at full speed wake of Mauro below were all perfect, until the night was warm and help couples, nice to sit in the patio and talk about the finadita, to let the dawn come at Celina sacándole rags to calm.
This was a Monday, then had to go to Rosario by a congress of lawyers where not done anything but applaud each other and drink like crazy, and went back to the weekend. On the train carrying two dancers from the Moulin Rouge and recognized the youngest, who became the eejit. All that morning he had been thinking about Celina, not that I cared so much the death of Celina but rather the suspension of an order, a necessary habit. When I saw girls in the career of Celine and the gesture of Mauro right out of the milonga the Greek Kasidis and take it with him. It needed courage to expect anything from this woman, and was at that time I met him when he came to consult me \u200b\u200babout his old lawsuit over land in Sana'a-spent. Celina accompanied him the second time, still make up almost a professional, moving embroidered wide but tight to his arm. It cost me measure, taste, simplicity and Mauro aggressive effort incorporated entirely unacknowledged by Celina. When I started trying it seemed that he had succeeded, at least on the outside and in everyday behavior. Then I measured better, Celina slipping away a little in the way of fads, dances his anxiety, his long entresueños next to the radio, with a patch or a tissue in her hands. When I heard her sing one night and Racing Nebiolo four to one, I knew I was still with Kasidis, far from a stable home and shepherd Mauro del Abasto. I encouraged her to meet her best wishes flights, were the three speakers so blinding site, papeli pizza-ing boiling grease on the floor. But Mauro preferred the patio, hours of chatting with neighbors and the mate. Accepted by degrees, he submitted without compromise. Celina then pretended to comply, maybe he was settling for less and be out of his house. It was I who succeeded him Mauro to go to dances, and I know I thanked him from the beginning. They wanted, and Celina happy enough for the two, sometimes three.
I thought it hit me a bath, call Nilda that would fetch on Sunday the way to the racetrack, and then see Mauro. Was in the courtyard, smoking among long mates. I softened the two or three holes of his shirt, and gave him a pat on the shoulder to say hello. Had the same face of the last time, next to the grave, pulling a handful of earth and turn back as dazzled. But I found a bright light on the eyes, the heavy hand when tightening.
"Thanks for coming to see me. Weather is long, Marcelo.
"You have to go to the Abasto, or you replace someone?
"I put my brother renguito. I have no intention of going, and why the day I made eternal.
-clear, precise distracted. We vestita and around Palermo.
"Come on, it does not matter.
It was a blue suit and embroidered handkerchief, I saw him throw a perfume bottle that had been in Celina. I liked his way of refinement the hat with the brim up, and his step light and quiet, good buddy. I resigned myself to listen to - "the friends are in these trances" - "and the second bottle of Quilmes Cristal came to me with everything I had. We were at a table coffee background, almost alone, I let him talk but from time to time served beer. I hardly remember everything you said, I think that was really the same thing. I have been one sentence: "I have here," and gestures to dig the index in the middle of his chest as if to show pain or a medal.
"I forget, too," he said. Anything to get drunk, go to the dance, throw me any female. Nah, you understand me, Marcelo, ... "The index rose, enigmatic, suddenly folded like a jackknife. At that point I was willing to accept anything, and when I mentioned the Santa Fe Palace in passing, it was assumed we were going to dance and was the first to get up and look at the time. We walked without speaking, dead heat, and every time I suspected a count by Mauro, his repeated surprise at not feeling his arm against the joy of Celina hot dance track.
-never took her to the Palace, "he said suddenly. I was before I knew it was a very rea milonga. "Nah, you frequent?
In my chips I have a good description of Santa Fe Palace, which is not called Santa Fe and is in the street, although the side. Too bad none of that can be truly described, nor the modest facade with posters promising, and the dark box office, less junadores still doing time in the doorway and calan one from top to bottom. What follows is worse, not that bad because there is no need anything, just chaos, confusion resolved in a false order: hell and circles. A hell of a two-fifty Japanese park entry and zero fifty ladies. Poorly insulated compartments, a kind of successive covered patios where a typical first, second feature in the northern third one with singers and Malambo. Placed in a middle passage (I Virgilio) heard music and saw the three three-circle dancing, then chose a favorite, or went dancing in dance, gin gin, looking for tables and women. "Not
bad, "said Mauro with his sad air. Unfortunately the heat. Should make extractor.
(For a card: to study, according to Ortega, the contacts of the man of the people and technology. Where they believe there is instead a clash violent assimilation and exploitation; Mauro spoke superheterodyne cooling or the sufficiency of Buenos Aires that believes that everything is due.) I grabbed him by the arm and set off a table because he was distracted and looked at the stage of the typical, the singer had with both hands the microphone and slowly shook him. We are happy layered in front of two dry reeds and Mauro drank his in one trip. "This settles
beer. Puta is crowded milonga.
called asking for another, and I was fit to ignore and look. The table was attached to the door, on the other side had chairs against a long wall and a lot of women that air was fresh with milongueras when absent from work or sports. There was much talk, we heard very well the typical exceeded bellows and playing with enthusiasm. The singer insisted on nostalgia, miraculous the way to dramatize a compass rather quickly and without lift. China braids I bring in my suitcase ... It lit up the microphone as the bars of a vomitory, with a kind of lust tired, organic necessity. At times got lips against the chrome grille, and the speaker came a voice sticky - "I am an honest man ...»-; business thought it would be a rubber doll and microphone hidden inside, so the singer could have her in his arms and heated at ease singing. But it would serve the tangos, better stick with the small skull chrome shining overhead, the smile tetanus grid.
good to say here I think I was going to the milonga by monsters, and I do not know of another where they give so many together. Show with eleven at night, down from vague areas of the city, paused and secure one or two, women almost dwarfs and slanted, guys like Javanese or mocovíes, crammed into boxes or black suits, hair combed hard with fatigue, glitter into droplets against blue and pink highlights, women with big hairdos that make them high dwarf, hair hard and difficult of them is the weariness and pride. They now gives your hair down and high in the middle, huge jopos Amarice nothing to do with the brutal face down, the gesture of aggression available and biding his time, effective on thin torsos waist. Recognize and admire in silence without making it to understand, is his dancing and his meeting the night of color. (For a card: where they come from, what professions the hide by day, what easements the isolated dark and disguise.) Van to that, the monsters are linked to serious compliance, grind slowly piece by piece without talking, many with eyes closed enjoying parity finally, completion. Are recaptured at intervals in the tables are boastful and women speak screaming to look at them, then the males become more grim and I have seen fly a slap and turn your face and hair half dressed in a cross-eyed china I drank white anise. Then there is the smell, is inconceivable without the monsters that smell of wet powder against the skin, fruit last one suspects hurriedly washings, damp cloth over her face and armpits, then the important thing, lotions, mascara, the dust in the face of all them, a whitish crust behind translucent brown plates. Also oxygenate, black ears stand rigid on the ground thick on the face, to be studied gestures of blonde, dressed in green, are convinced of its transformation and condescending disdain for the other to defend their color. Mauro glancing I studied the difference between your face Italian features, the face of unmixed black outskirts of Buenos Aires and the provinces, and suddenly I remembered Celina closer to the monsters, much closer to them than Mauro and me. I think Kasidis had chosen to please the couple. I slanted their customers, the few who then encouraged her cabaret. I had never been in times of Kasidis in Celina, but then one night I went down (to recognize the place where she worked before Mauro take her out) and saw nothing but white, but white blondes or brunettes.
"I feel like dancing a tango," said Mauro complainant. Was a bit drunk when entering the fourth rod. Celina I thought so at home here, just here Mauro had not ever brought. Anita Lozano received the applause now closed to the public when greeting from the stage, I heard her sing at the Novelty when it was priced high, was now old and thin but retains the full voice to the tango. Better yet, because his style was villain, who needed a voice dirty little hoarse and those letters filled tirade. Celina had that voice when he had drunk, I suddenly realized how the Santa Fe was Celina, Celina's presence almost unbearable. Going with Mauro
was a mistake. I endured because I wanted and he drew from the grime of Kasidis, promiscuity and cups of sugar water in the top knees and heavy breath against your face customers, but if I had not had to work in the milongas Celina would have liked to stay. He looked at the hips and mouth, was armed to the tango, born from above down to the spree. Why it was necessary to take her to Mauro dances, I had been transfigured to enter, with the first breaths of hot air and bellows. At this time, got no return in Santa Fe, Celina measured the greatness of his courage Mauro pay with several years of kitchen and fresh kills on the patio. Had waived its milonga sky, its hot vocation of anise and waltzes. As condemning wittingly, Mauro and Mauro's life, forcing her world just for him to take her out sometimes to a party. Mauro
already lit with a bold walked taller than the other, thin-waisted as few and nothing ugly. I laughed her instinctive yet thoughtful selection, the little maid was the least equal to the monsters, then I turned the idea that Celina had been kind of a monster like them, just and day out not to be seen as here. Mauro asked if I would have noticed, I feared some blame for bringing her to a place where the memory of each thing as growing hairs on his arm. This time there was applause, and he came up with the girl who suddenly seemed as besotted and gasping out his tango.
"I present to you a friend.
We said the "happy" right there in Buenos Aires and gave him drink. Mauro was glad to see it coming at night and even changed some sentences with the woman named Emma, \u200b\u200ba name that does not do well to lean. Mauro spoke seemed pretty packed and orchestra with the short sentence, sententious I admire. Emma was in the names of singers, in memory of Villa Crespo and El Talar. Anita Lozano then announced a tango old and there were shouts and applause from the monsters, the tapes that favored mostly without discrimination. Mauro was not as healed as to forget everything when the band broke through with a wriggle of the bandoneon suddenly looked at me, tense and rigid, as agreed. I also saw Racing, Mauro and Celina pinned strong in that tango after she sang all night and the taxi back.
- Do you dance? Emma said, swallowing his Granada with noise. Mauro
or watched. I think it was at that time we both reached in the depths. Now (now that I write) I see another image that one of my twenty years in Sportivo Barracks, jumping in the pool and find another swimmer on the bottom, touch the bottom at a time and glimpse into the green water acre. Mauro threw back his chair and stood with his elbow on the table. I looked like the track, and Emma was lost and humiliated between the two, but concealed eating potato chips. Now Anita began to sing broken, couples danced almost without leaving your site and saw they heard the letter with desire and misery and all denied the pleasure of partying. The faces still looking for the box and saw them turning is inclined to follow Anita and confident on the microphone. Some shook their mouth repeating words, others smiled stupidly as from behind themselves, and when it closed its long, long as you were mine, and now I look and do not find you at the entrance in tutti Bellows said the renewed violence in the dance, side and eight runs interspersed in the middle of the track. Many sweating, a China that I had come to the second button scraping the bag went against the table and saw the water coming out of the root hair and running down the neck where fat made him a gutter whiter. There was smoke coming from the adjoining room where they ate barbecue and danced rancheras, the roast and put cigarettes a low cloud that distorted faces and cheap paint the opposite wall. I think I helped from the inside with my four rods, and Mauro had the chin with the back of his hand, staring ahead. We noticed that the tango on and on up there once or twice Mauro saw a glimpse of the box where Anita was like driving a baton, but later returned to stare at the couples. I do not know how to say, I think I followed his gaze and also showed him the way, without seeing us know (it seems to me that Mauro knew) the coincidence of that look, we fell on the same pairs, the same hair and pants. I heard Emma say something, an excuse, and table space between Mauro and I became clearer, although we are not watching. On the trail seemed to have fallen a moment of great happiness, deep breath as partners and I have heard that Mauro did the same. The smoke was so thick that the sides are blured beyond the center of the track so that the area of \u200b\u200bthe chairs for which iron is not seen between the bodies brought and fog. As many as were mine, curious crackling speaker gave him the voice of Anita, the dancers again immobilized (always moving) and Celina was on the right, turning out the smoke and obedient to the pressure of his companion, profile was a time to me, then back, the other profile, and lifted her face to hear the music. I say: Celina, but was rather know then not understanding why Celina without, of course, how to understand it at the time. The table trembled in shock, I knew it was Mauro's arm trembling, or mine, but we were not afraid, that was closer to the terror and joy and stomach. Actually it was stupid, a feeling of something other than that we do not let them out, recovered. Celina was always there, no see, drinking the tango with his whole face a yellow light and altered desdecía smoke. Any of the black could have been more like Celina her at that moment, happiness transformed it in a heinous, I could not have put up with Celina as he saw it at the time and the tango. I had intelligence to measure the devastation of her happiness, her face rapt and stupid in paradise at last achieved, so it could be Kasidis in the absence of work and clients. Nothing in his heaven now tied hers alone, occurred with all the skin to that and came back in the order where Mauro could not follow. Heaven was his hard won, the tango back to play for herself and her peers, to the applause of broken glass that ended the saying of Anita, back Celina, Celina's profile, other couples against it and smoke. I did not
Mauro look, now I was rallying my notorious behavior cynicism piled up steam. Everything depended on how he came into the thing, so I stayed as it was, considering the track slowly emptied.
- Vos you notice? Mauro said.
"Yes.
- Vos you notice how it seemed?
did not answer, outweighed relief pity. It was on this side, the poor thing was on this side and not enough to believe and what we learned together. I saw him get up and walk the track with passing drunk, looking for the woman who looked like Celina. I was still, fumándome a blonde with no trouble, looking back and forth knowing that he lost his time, overwhelmed and hungry again without having found the gates of heaven in the smoke and those people.
