Cebollas

-¿En cuál dijo que estábamos?
-En el del olvido.
-Ah.
-... (hombre cortando cebollas en la mesada)

- ¿En cuál dijo?
-En el del olvido.
-Cierto
-... (hombre que sigue cortando cebollas)

- ¿Estamos en un mundo nuevo?
-Sí, en el del olvido.
-Ok
-... (cebollas, muchas cebollas)

-Fuaaaaa. Cuantas cebollas. ¿Eso es porque estamos en el mundo de las cebollas?
-No. Estamos en el mundo del olvido.
-Tiene rico olor el lugar.
-... (hombre cortando olvidos en la mesada)
"Sólo una cosa no hay. Es el olvido."

Jorge Luis Borges
Ahora entramos en
el mundo del olvido.

A mover las manos

Concurso literario.
Tema: la magia

http://nuestrotaller.zoomblog.com/archivo/2008/09/22/c-o-n-c-u-r-s-o.html

Do you believe in magic?

"Who did kill those men?" she asked.

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you."

"I would." She sounded angry now. He wondered if bringing the wine to the dinner had been a wise idea. Life was certainly not a cabernet right now.

"It's not easy to believe."

"I," she told him, "can believe anything. You have no idea what I can believe."

"Really?"

"I can believe things that are true and I can believe things that aren't true and I can believe things where nobody knows if they're true or not. I can believe in Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny and Marilyn Monroe and the Beatles and Elvis and Mister Ed. Listen-I believe that people are perfectible, that knowledge is infinite, that the world is run by secret banking cartels and is visited by aliens on a regular basis, nice ones that look like wrinkledy lemurs and bad ones who mutilate cattle and want our water and our women. I believe that the future sucks and I believe that the future rocks and I believe that one day White Buffalo Woman is going to come back and kick everyone's ass. I believe that all men are just overgrown boys with deep problems communicating and that the decline in good sex in America is coincident with the decline in drive-in movie theaters from state to state. I believe that all politicians are unprincipled crooks and I still believe that they are better than the alternative. I believe that California is going to sink into the sea when the big one comes, while Florida is going to dissolve into madness and alligators and toxic waste. I believe that antibacterial soap is destroying our resistance to dirt and disease so that one day we'll all be wiped out by the common cold like the Martians in War of the Worlds. I believe that the greatest poets of the last century were Edith Sitwell and Don Marquis, that jade is dried dragon sperm, and that thousands of years ago in a former life I was a one-armed Siberian shaman. I believe that mankind's destiny lies in the stars. I believe that candy really did taste better when I was a kid, that it's aerodynamically impossible for a bumblebee to fly, that light is a wave and a particle, that there's a cat in a box somewhere who's alive and dead at the same time (although if they don't ever open the box to feed it it'll eventually just be two different kinds of dead), and that there are stars in the universe billions of years older than the universe itself. I believe in a personal god who cares about me and worries and oversees everything I do. I believe in an impersonal god who set the universe in motion and went off to hang with her girlfriends and doesn't even know that I'm alive. I believe in an empty and godless universe of causal chaos, background noise, and sheer blind luck. I believe that anyone who says that sex is overrated just hasn't done it properly. I believe that anyone who claims to know what's going on will lie about the little things too. I believe in absolute honesty and sensible social lies. I believe in a woman's right to choose, a baby's right to live, that while all human life is sacred there's nothing wrong with the death penalty if you can trust the legal system implicitly, and that no one but a moron would ever trust the legal system. I believe that life is a game, that life is a cruel joke, and that life is what happens when you're alive and that you might as well lie back and enjoy it." She stopped, out of breath.

Shadow almost took his hands off the wheel to applaud. Instead he said, "Okay. So if I tell you what I've learned you won't think that I'm a nut."

"Maybe," she said. "Try me."

"Would you believe that all the gods that people have ever imagined are still with us today?"

"...Maybe."

"And that there are new gods out there, gods of computers and telephones and whatever, and that they all seem to think there isn't room for them both in the world. And that some kind of war is kind of likely."

"And these gods killed those two men?"

"No, my wife killed those two men."

"I thought you said your wife was dead."

"She is."

"She killed them before she died, then?"

"After. Don't ask."


from Neil Gaiman's "American Gods"

pura magia

Y tampoco hacen falta las dos.



No se puede hacer más lento...

Magia for free.

Los fantasmas prefieren los mundos pequeños y acotados: un cementerio por la noche, una casona a la hora de la siesta, el limonero sobre la tumba del abuelo, los pasillos de hoteles abandonados, etc. Nunca Cerrito y Santa Fe un viernes al mediodía. Es lógico, de otra forma las apariciones perderían su faceta mística:
- Mamá, ¿viste mi campera negra?
- Sí, me parece que está colgada al lado del espíritu de la mujer de época.

Los robots tienen una indescriptible tendencia a volverse sensibles. Incluso sofisticadas máquinas de guerra humanoides terminan pidiéndole un corazón al Mago de Oz o al programador Java de turno. Robots enamorados, robots llorones y robots celosos presentarse de lunes a viernes de ocho a veinte horas. Traer tres fotos carnet y verificación técnica al día.

Los maniquíes, sólo algunos, cobran vida por las noches y cumplen el sueño de correr desnudos por un shopping desierto. Después mantienen sexo sin protección en baños públicos y colchones de primera línea. Los reclamos por paternidad llenan los archivos de estudios legales de pacotilla. Afortunadamente son inmunes a enfermedades infectocontagiosas y a la publicidad por mensaje de texto.

Los vampiros, seres extraordinarios, ya no son tan sofisticados en este siglo. Hasta dicen haber visto a un conde de antaño vendiendo colmillos de chasco en el tren al sur. Los hombres lobo por otro lado decidieron convertirse en pastores de iglesias evangélicas, vendedores de enciclopedias puerta a puerta y atracción estelar en ferias de barrio. Después de medianoche cada uno por su cuenta y el que no esté de acuerdo que se quede puertas para adentro.

Las hadas madrinas no siempre estuvieron ligadas a muñecos de madera, pero un extraño suceso seguido de una demanda multimillonaria ensució para siempre la imagen, hasta ese momento intachable, de tan agraciadas criaturas. Pida su deseo con cuidado y espere junto a la línea de cajas detrás de la gorda a cuadros. Cualquier coincidencia con la ficción es intencional y la magia se vende por separado.

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Un robot acaba de enamorarse.