littleasturias

Cain

2012-01-14T11:30:00.001-08:00

Novela acabada coincidiendo con comienzo del 2012. Tantas vueltas de tuerca la han terminado conviritiendo en una novela irrisoria por lo increibe. Vamos, que tantas vueltas de tuerca han hecho que el tornillo se pase. Pero hay extractos que la salvan un poco:

Mi hermana Sonia ha regresado esta mañana a Tenerife y se ha llevado a nuestra madre consigo por una semana o dos, hasta que esta decida que está lo bastante recuperada como para regresar a Asturias. Me ha despedido en el hospital con un beso y un largo abrazo y me ha dicho que esperaba verme pronto por allí.
-Te hará bien salir de la ciudad. Ven en cuanto estés recuperado.
Ha completado que los únicos bienvenidos en Tenerife somos Mateo y yo.
-Ya te has dado cuenta de cómo es tu mujer, ¿no? No me la traigas a mi casa. Sabes que allí no es querida.
Y en dónde la dejo, Sonia, había pensado yo. Como siempre, me callé y no le dije nada. ¿Dónde la dejo? Desde aquel sábado, apenas ha recibido la visita de nadie: su madre vino a verla un par de veces, para no volver. Sus tres hermanos no han hecho acto de presencia en el Hospital para visitarme. Uno de ellos ha telefoneado una vez, los otros dos se enteran de las noticias a través de la madre, esos ni llaman. ¿Dónde dejo a Merche que, por no tener, no tiene ya ni querido? Aquel hombre, Elías Conde, aquel exitoso economista de pacotilla, que la encandiló con verborrea de maricón y picha de caballo, o eso presumo, porque desde que sé quién es, he indagado acerca de su carácter a conocidos comunes, y me pintan a alguien que deja mucho que desear… Aquel hombre, reitero, puso pies en polvorosa en cuanto supo lo del ataque en la casita y que Merche había confesado que había otro y quién era el otro. La ha telefoneado un par de veces desde aquel sábado, eso sí, eso no se le puede negar. Cincuenta polvos bien merecen un par de llamadas de móvil, digo yo.
Mi esposa no es una mujer fácil ni popular, eso es lo que muchos resienten: hermanos, vecinos, colegas de trabajo, amigos de circunstancias, familia política. No es una mujer a la que se puede comprar con halagos ni amenazas, no es amiga de habladurías ni falsas apariencias. Y tiene un carácter muy fuerte, heredado, según parece, del padre, a quien no conocí nunca pues había fallecido diez años antes de conocer a Merche en Londres.
Mi esposa es la clase de persona a la que los nazis hubiesen enviado a un campo de concentración no por ser judía o gitana, sino escuchando voces de vecinos maliciosos que la hubiesen acusado falsamente de colaborar con la Resistencia; soldados enemigos que envían al patíbulo a una mujer inocente por hábito, sin importarles si la acusación es infundada o no, sólo fiándose de que la mano que acusa es la mano de un buen vecino, a law-abiding citizen, dicen los de la Gran Bretaña, un hombre decente, temeroso de las leyes y de Dios.
¿Cuántos inocentes han sido sacrificados en el altar de las malas intenciones de hombres que se dicen buenos?
Mi esposa es uno de ellos. Le guste a mi hermana o no, siendo la madre de mi hijo, no pienso sacrificarla a los lodos de hoy ni de ningún otro día. La recuerdo ofreciéndose a aquel animal en lugar de mamá o el niño. La recuerdo ofreciéndose entre lágrimas. La recuerdo llorando, abrazada a mí, en la ambulancia, mirando con infinita compasión las heridas de los muslos que la presión de la plancha caliente había creado.
En el fondo de mi corazón, sé que Merche es el major bálsamo para curar estas heridas nuevas. Ella, y tal vez el paso del tiempo. En el fondo de mi corazón, sé que a los hombres que se dicen de una pieza siempre les han atraído las mujeres difíciles.

Cut... cut.... I have become bilingual

2012-01-14T11:20:00.000-08:00

Dos novelas back to back una es de ciencia ficcion, basada en la primera novela que escribi, a los catorce anos, titulada LA ULTIMA BATALLA; the other, written in English, is about city workers in a London investment bank, one of them is Spanish and she is called Luisa, she's recently lost a child. La novela en espanol esta dirigida a jovenes, es una novela que escribo para cuando mis hijas sean adolescentes; the other one, is a shot to humanity's heart via one of the most inhuman working environments I've seen in my life.

Cut... cut... I have become bilingual.

(Cate Blanchett's Elizabeth, su ultima linea; I've just changed a word, naturally. I stopped being a virgin a few years ago)
XX

Great expectations

2012-01-02T11:28:00.000-08:00

Nope, not my new year resolutions or whatever, nope. It's Dickens' novel, one of my favourites... and so many other people. So... after watching bits and bobs of the most hideous TV adaptation of the novel so far, aired on our British screens this last week -bad acting -not the supporting characters, but the main ones-, outrageous script, Ray Winstone thinking he was impersonating Sheen in Apocalypse Now... I went back to the novel and am re-reading it again.
Where shall I start? It's hilarious, something many adaptations fail to show, what have these bastards academics done to this novel?, it's hilarious and there's nothing shameful about it:
Please allow me:

page 39 of my copy:

Chapter 2: My sister, Mrs. Joe Gargery, was more than twenty years older than I, and had established a great reputation with herself and the neighbours because she had brought me up 'by hand'. Having at that time to find out for myself what the expression meant, and knowing her to have a hard and heavy hand, and to be much in the habit of laying it upon her husband as well upon me, I supposed that Joe Gargery and I were both brought up by hand.

Dickens and Great Expectations are institutions and treasures of the British Culture. It means they've been canonized, sanctified, institutionalized, and we are used to think of them as high-brow intellectual entities. Alas, far from the truth, 'cos the truth is that Dickens was a weekly magazine storyteller and needed to keep his public interested, and his public was from all backgrounds and ages -I presume-. Therefore, the humour and all the rest.
Ah, you, bastard Oxbridgites, what have you done of storytelling?
And the BBC spends what I presume is a fortune adapting the novel once more, when there is probably no need. There is need to bet for the young British storytellers of the XXI Century, but they will not do that. They'd rather waste your fucking money making these awful adaptations.
Shame on them

On a positive note: Happy New Year, and may your 2012 Great Expectations become a reality sooner or later.

XX

New Year Resolutions

2011-12-18T11:47:00.000-08:00

1. To spend more quality time with my children.
2. To write a novel or a collection of short stories that my children can read before they are 18.
3. To stick two fingers up to very truly small publishing companies which never publish the books that they contractually set to publish within the two year period from the date the contract was signed. They always forget novel writers in favour of more established ones, yes, even little publishing companies do that.
4. To remind my younger colleagues in school that the educational system is not the City, we are not corporate lawyers and they can't leave university thinking that, if by the time they're 30 they're not deputy headteachers, then they're failures. New Labour did that to them. Tories will carry on educating them to be teachers with the spirit of a corporate lawyer or an accountant. Some of them don't even like children.
5. To pay more attention to what comes from my country and my little country.
6. To remember to sit with my feet up every now and then and pinch myself thinking how lucky I am
7. To remember that to pinch myself harder, I need to strengthen friendship ties with my savings account.
8. To lose weight and update my profile photo... or the other way round?
9. To eat more fruit and veggies; to quit smoking -hmmmmm, who am I kidding?-
10. To learn how to use my fucking mobile phone, it's one year old and I still don't know how to turn the f... sound off when I send a text message!!

2011-12-08T15:23:00.000-08:00

Abel era el mejor, pero es la pasión de Caín la que se ha perpetuado en la memoria colectiva. Abel nunca conquistó reinos.

(Extracto de una carta encontrada en una casa particular tras el bombardeo de Dresde en 1945)

Cal had never drunk before, had never needed to. B ut going to Kate’s had been no relief from pain and his revenge had been no triumph. His memory was all swirling clouds and broken pieces of sound and sight and feeling. What now was true and what was imagined he could not separate. Coming out of Kate’s he had touched his sobbing brother and Aron had cut him down with a fist like a whip.

John Steinbeck, East of Eden

Good times for a change
See, the luck I've had
Can make a good man turn bad

The Smiths, Please, please, please, let me get me what I want

una decada de pobreza con estos

2011-11-21T14:31:00.000-08:00

Condenados a ser camareros de los alemanes, con estos. Llevamos casi cuarenta anos con un pais que no sabe adaptarse a los vaivenes del mercado laboral. Y estos no van a hacerlo mejor.

Estos venden el pais...

A society that is built upon kind words and good intentions...

2011-11-13T10:52:00.000-08:00

as ours is, Europeans, cannot, should not, rejoice in something like:
a. Mocking Liam Fox's friendship with another person, be it a man or a woman.
b. Make fun of Silvio Berlusconi's persona and the fact that he likes looking at the ass of a female policitian.
c. Cheer at the horrible pictures of Gaddafi's dead, bloody and abused body.

Intelligent and sensitive societies, and I believe I belong to one of them, wherever I am in Europe, do
a. Applaud the fact that Liam Fox has resigned as Defence Secretary due to the fact that a personal friend was profiting financially of his relationship with the Secretary of Defence.
b. Acknowledge that Silvio Berlusconi was a dreadful Primer Minister in Italy and his business and personal allies were in most cases undesirable. His behaviour as a Prime minister was awful and he is involved in many political and economical scandals.
c. Feel relief at the fact that a dictator is no longer in power and that Libya is free to start a more democratic era in History. But Gaddafi should have been left alive, put in prison and stand a fair trial for crimes against Humanity.

As people who have done illegal or downright inmoral/awful things, we mustn't put ourselves in the shoes of these three men. As human beings, we should.
A just and civilized society does not laugh at a politician's ill judged frienship; it does not laugh at the sexual weaknesses of a corrupt policitian; it does not cheer the brutal death of an elderly man.

More than 4,000 years of History tell us that civilization should be in the eyes of the beholder.

XX

Empezamos nosotros, en mayo

2011-10-24T16:20:00.000-07:00

Con esto

http://www.democraciarealya.es/

Hay que joderse, 150 plazas de policia nacional a las que se van a presentar 10,000 personas, eso lo se porque un miembro joven de mi familia, en Asturias, es una de esas diez mil personas.
Hay que joderse, que el 45% de la juventud espanola esta en el paro o en una situacion laboral muy precaria.
Hay que joderse, que un pais cuya poblacion presume de trabajar muy duro, tenga un 20% de tasa de paro en el 2011, sin posibilidad de mejorar en un futuro cercano. Lo de trabajar duro, se lo preguntas a los que hayan conocido a algun espanolito currando aqui en Inglaterra, fama de vagos, no tenemos.
Hay que joderse, los que condenan a dos generaciones de ciudadanos en Grecia a vivir sin expectativas, desde el ano pasado. Y todavia se sorprenden de que protesten quemando coches...Y todo porque no tienen industria que, o se va a sus 'hermanos' del norte o a la 'servidumbre' de las nuevas potencias asiaticas.

Y yo que pinto en todo esto? Yo soy testigo y parte interesada. Porque de estas manifestaciones masivas y de esta masiva crisis va a nacer dentro de una decada un nuevo orden economico y mundial. Mis hijas, tal vez yo y su padre, lo veremos. Es muy pronto para predecir lo que ocurrira.
Que pienso yo? Que la vida es 'one step at a time'. Un paso en falso, y todo se va a la mierda.
XX

Deja que pasemos sin miedo

2011-09-27T16:05:00.000-07:00

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4QD7iGLpXng

Nacha Pop, Lucha de Gigantes. Re-mastered.

Veinte anos de mi vida recordados de un golpe con esta bellisima cancion.

The Great British Migration

2011-08-26T07:52:00.000-07:00

Durante el verano, manadas de britanicos vuelan, navegan o conducen hacia el sur, hacia el sol, la cerveza barata, el vino barato, los dias largos y el ruido de los paises del sur europeo, es una migracion corta, de pocas semanas.

La migracion que conozco mejor es la que tiene lugar desde los ferrys de Calais o Portsmouth, coches empaquetados hasta la bandera, bicicletas ajustadas a la trasera, shorts and flip-flops.

Se parece a esto de la foto. Ah, le fromage, le vin et la plage. Es el mismo tipo de emigracion que llega a Asturias, que, por cierto, cada vez me sorprende mas por lo mal que conducimos -temerariamente- y lo mucho que comemos. Creo que en Asturias, por las montanas, tenemos un poco de espiritu de insularidad. Algunas veces bueno, algunas veces muy malo, como cuando conducimos, morir en un coche que nos ha costado todo el sueldo de 50 anos debe de ser, para algunos indeseables, una cuestion de honor. Si de eso tuvieran...

The Great British Migration

2011-08-25T09:27:00.001-07:00

To continue... I'm going for a cuppa... coffee, actually.
Why am I talking in English to myself?
To all those who have come across this pathetic blog of mine. Gracias, gracias, gracias. Bet you didn't get bored reading my rantings...

30/07/11

2011-07-30T13:03:00.001-07:00

No one, not one, mentions it is a good book. Shit, that's bad news.

hands off my country

2011-07-14T11:55:00.000-07:00

If I ever get a comment again about how Spanish is less useful and important as a language than, say, German or French, I am going to kick this person where his sun does not shine.
From summer holidays to the middle of the f... French countryside where all you can do is pay and gulp huge amounts of bad wine -basically because you are too thick to tell the diffrence between good and bad wine- and pay huge sums of money to rehabilitate and old shepherd's cottage the Frenchmen don't even want for free, someone's head's in this country has gone awol.
Don't arrive in Asturias, we don't want you there.
Money, money, money, money..... ah, now that Spain is not such a rich country, now, what, you're laughing at our face? Bollocks to you, then.
We have the best educated youth in Europe, hands off them. No, they're not only thinking in terms of money, doh, educated people, people with taste don't do that. Go and discuss money issues and career prospects in the f... middle of the French countryside or inside one of those kitsch German castles in south Germany.
Do not contaminate my country.
F.. sake, I know what goes around comes around anyway... I'll arm myself with patience.

2011-06-15T14:46:00.000-07:00

Okay, might be a shitty name, but it stands on its own ground already... At least give us that...

2011-06-15T14:41:00.000-07:00

Estamos jodidos, Cascos presidente de la Comunidad de Asturias. En qué estaba pensando la gente que votó por él, pero siendo peor que Terminator, nos va a dejar la region hecha una mierda. Reinos de Taifas…

2011-05-26T14:18:00.001-07:00

http://www.democraciarealya.es/

La dignidad recuperada

2011-05-22T11:34:00.000-07:00

Esto no es sobre democracia. Esto es sobre la recuperación de la dignidad perdida. Por fin nos hemos despertado y, cuando lo hemos hecho, no hemos mirado a nuestros primos del norte europeo porque, para ser sinceros, a nuestros primos del norte europeo no los admiramos, les envidiamos su pujanza económica, eso es todo.
No, nos hemos despertado y nosotros, que somos medio africanos, hemos mirado a un país del norte de Africa para que nos sirviese de ejemplo. No somos solo un país de fiesta. Qué hostias vamos a ser solo eso. Somos un país noble e inteligente, y debemos volver a demostrarlo. Hay que regresar al espíritu de la Transición.
Basta de insultos, de putas famosas en la tele, basta de corrupción política y de mediocridad intellectual y creativa. Nunca he visto en mis 42 anos de vida, a mi país tan desmejorado política, social y económicamente.
Y lo peor es esa peligrosa division socioeconómica entre aquellos españoles con un trabajo permanente y bien remunerado –los funcionarios y gente parecida- y los que malviven entre trabajo inseguro y mal pagado y trabajo inseguro y mal pagado.
Y no creo recorder una clase política e ideological –los que manejan los mass media- que muestra tan poca compasión por las preocupaciones del españolito de a pie. Hay que ser de piedra para no llorar ante las estadísticas: el 45% de los jóvenes espanoles está sin trabajo; el 21% de los españoles en edad laboral está sin trabajo.
Y ahí están las plazas, llenitas. ¿Será eso suficiente?
Tenemos una juventud que debería ser el orgullo de la casa: bien educada, solidaria, culta. Y con qué les pagamos. Con la promesa de un futuro de adultos lleno de incertidumbre y de humillaciones.
Me acuerdo de Cernuda escribiendo, desde Francia o Nueva York o dondequiera que estuviese, escribiendo: ‘es lástima que fuera mi Patria’, pero yo no puedo decir eso, yo la defiendo con uñas y dientes desde otro país que ni es ni sera nunca mejor.
Recuerdo una España bellísima, ingenua, trabajadora y profundamente triste bajo esa patina de falsa alegría que nos caracteriza y que tanto despista a los extranjeros. Y también recuerdo que no es el tipo de país que gusta de hacer leña del árbol caído.
Pero los que no se duelen de sus dolores: los politicos, los periodistas, los funcionarios con un trabajo bien pagado… esos… esos van a arder en el Infierno. XX

2011-05-14T11:40:00.000-07:00

De Caín...

The good doctor resembles Victor Frankestein before the creature was born. A happy ignorant. Ah, would I have become someone like him had I stayed in Asturias? I ran away, instead, to a country I wrongly suspected better than mine. This is where the creature found me, it killed my wife and my son, it sent me to prison for stabbing a young man, it raped and tortured me in jail, then it tried to re-educate me into an adulterated version of Victor… but I escaped, I had to escape… I came back to these loved shores I had once left in disgust. Now, I wait, I wait, I wait… When the creature finds me again, where will I be? What other innocents surrounding me will be devoured before it claims its real price?

[...]

He estado toda la vida rezando para que nada horrible le sucediera, ni a mi familia ni a mí. Que mi hijo no muriera joven, que nadie de las mujeres de mi familia fuese víctima de una violación, que la enfermedad grave de un deudo no me probarse un hombre débil y mísero; que no fuésemos víctimas de un asesinato y que no nos convirtiéramos, ni siquiera debido a un accidente automovilístico, en asesinos.
Toda la vida rezando para que fuesen otros los que viesen su vida destrozada o, cuando menos, estigmatizada, debido a esa causa. Otros, puesto que siempre va a haber asesinatos, violaciones, accidentes mortales, incestos, guerras..., pero nunca mi familia. Nunca yo.
Sí, otros, que la lotería del terror les toque a otros, no a nosotros. No fue la estampa de mi Mateo, mortalmente pálido, estrujado entre aquellos dos monstruos, con la navaja al cuello lo que me hizo pensar en que el Diablo nos utilizaba de diana aquel día, fueron las tres sillas que tuve que colocar en el centro del salón a instancias de Arguelles. El aire se volvió gelatina. Gelatina roja.

2011-05-04T15:23:00.000-07:00

http://www.legadosediciones.blogspot.com/

http://edicionesrubeo.blogspot.com/

http://www.bailedelsol.org/

http://www.ladiscreta.com/

Hunger today, some more than others, hopefully food for tomorrow. Food for gods, demi gods, geeks, freaks and ugly bastards. Food for the mind and the soul, food for the restless and the desperate, for the ones that never do things right.
And if we fail to make an indelible mark in the table of Literary History, alas, at least we'll have failed in style, we'll have failed gloriously, like demi gods, which is what we are.

Que si no entendeis el ingles, p'a eso esta el Google Translator.
XX

2011-04-27T15:00:00.000-07:00

Y por fin un trozo de tierra en Inglaterra que me recuerda a Asturias: por las playas, los prados, las colinas, la costa, incluso las casas rurales me recuerdan mi tierrina. El sitio es Devon, el norte de Devon, en donde he estado de vacaciones con mi familia...

Y por que cojones teniendo paisajes como estos en Inglaterra, uno va a tostarse en playas abarrotadas de gente en Malaga... Pero que se os ha perdido en Malaga?

2011-03-28T11:03:00.000-07:00

I was shocked to hear that some economists, journalists... in Britain call the 4 EU countries most affected by the noughties economic crisis PIGS. It stands for Portugal, Ireland, Greece, Spain. I was shocked to hear the term in last week's Question Time, BBC 1, Thursday 24th March, by one of the panellists and more shocked when I realised -thanks to Google- that it is a term widely used in Britain to name those countries whose economy is struggling these days; some people add Italy to the combo -PIIGS-. Big sly FOX calls us PIGS. This is not helping to mend working relationships -already deteriorated, as it is our reputation- between EU neighbours. Yes, we know there is a 3-tier EU, we've always known that: First class, Britain, France, Germany, BENELUX, some say Italy, some not. Second class countries would be the PIGS. And there are third class countries, too, the poorer relations: Poland, Latvia, Romania et alii. Some don't even know where the heck those new countries are located, within Europe. What am I in this nasty crossroads? Am I a FOX, a first class citizen, or a PIG, a second class one? What am I? I live in my daughters' country but my allegiance is still painfully loyal to the country I was born and bred, the country that gave me my character... and my integrity. Who am I loyal to? To my girls' country or to my father's country? Britain has given me a future, but it was my father, and Spain, who gave me his principles. I am lost without my girls -and the home I made here, with my partner, for them- but I am lost, too, without my past. We PIGS are mainly Southern European countries, good for nothing, proto-African, eh? Those countries gave the world empires, philosophies, arts, crafts and legends, but they have to live now like tramps, old tramps, hungry from past glories. It is compassion what gives Britain its good name; it is not disdain and ruthlesness. Birthday presents: a bracelet, perfume, a digital photo frame... and the news that my school is to become an Academy asap. XX

2011-03-20T11:37:00.000-07:00

All my sympathy and compassion to those who lost lives, families and homes in Japan due to the earthquake-cum-tsunami.
But...
Why on earth one of the richest countries in the world closed its eyes to this simple fact? Earthquake-prone country + nuclear power stations= disaster of historic magnitude.
Re-interpreting one of Rich Hall's jokes, the safest place to open a brand new nuclear power plant somewhere, i.e. Britain, is to do it in an area populated already by mutants, i.e., the Headquarters of the BNP.
The irony of it: Has Japan done some research on the capacity of tidal waves to generate energy? Obviously, not only mild tsunami waves but recurrent tidal waves.

2011-03-08T15:35:00.000-08:00

Parecidos razonables: Pero Taz es más guapo...

2011-02-27T11:19:00.000-08:00

Se presenta en Barcelona, Los españoles iban de gris, de Francisco Martínez Hoyos. Hay que apostar por las editoriales artesanales y los autores que empiezan, si no, estamos perdidos... por no decir jodidos...con perdon.

http://www.suite101.net/content/los-espanoles-iban-de-gris-a41082

2011-02-19T11:33:00.001-08:00

Ah, one of my birthday presents has arrived early: I have found a way of giving the story of Cain... another turn of the screw...
XX

2011-02-01T15:13:00.000-08:00

Nunca he abandonado el reino de Caín. Mis Caín y Abel particulares se llaman Pedro Arguelles y Eduardo Novales. Ah, pero quién es quién.

2011-01-20T14:32:00.000-08:00

Read, read, beautiful THE REMAINS OF THE DAY, by Kazuo Ishiguro, Japanese-born men writing so beautifully about Englishmen... It'll break your heart and them it'll mend it so it becomes more compassionate towards men's faults...

Ah, my Mancs is almost ready for the oven, MANCUNIANS AND MUSIC: TALES OF THE UNDERGROUND, THE INTERNET AND THE MANCHESTER MUSIC SCENE OF THE NOUGHTIE YEARS, 1998-2011.

Extract:

THE RISE OF THE MACHINES

WHO would have thought that to get to the diamonds hidden at the bottom of the can one would have to dodge so many worms? And, yet, for its regular users and abusers, the Machine is only comparable to a longed-for child: once in our arms, in our lives, one cannot remember what life was like before the child arrived; we only remember snippets of a shallow, boring and rudimentary life before the Creature arrived, with all its might and its charm.
The Internet made the advent of a new Millennium unforgettable; it made instant millionaires of some certain visionaries and it is ruining, at an impressive rate, the two most idiosyncratic leisure industries of the 20th century: cinema and music.
But he who has tasted life with the Machines, alas, would not bear to part company with them. The Internet is the modern Prometheus – cheap, I know - the Prometheus of the 21st century. Man clings to it for dear life, as one would cling to God or the longed-for child who has given so much meaning to a life that, again, was once dark and frightening.
The Machine is so many different things to so many different people: it is our travel agent; our doctor; our financial adviser; our whore and our priest. It functions as a newspaper, a brochure, a magazine, a pamphlet, a radio, a TV, a cinema screen… an encyclopaedia, a dictionary, a translator, and a diary.
It brings family, friends and colleagues together. It has made country borders disappear, being a melting pot and another way for delinquents to break the law. And this youngster is, what, hardly fifteen years old? Ah, youth!
Where the computer age is taking us is both terrifying and fascinating; computers and the Internet empower the mind, while leaving the body in the background. We are going towards a world where minds will be able to communicate without the power of the body, or the senses; where our great-grandchildren will slowly lose the skill of writing with their hands, using touch-typing instead. Our descendants will probably be half blind and will lose much of the use of their fingers because of a life spent in front of a laptop, or another screen. Will the Internet and computer age change the face of the city centre? When we don’t need direct contact with our clients, will we find more important firms who do most of their work over the Internet, and smaller firms, scattered all over the city, all over the suburbs? Will there be Wi-Fi points and no phone boxes? No music or video shops? Go on, get wild and imagine our world, our cities and their inhabitants in a hundred years’ time.
To the world of music it has brought tears and joy in equal measure and this chapter tries, albeit modestly, I am not expert on the matter, to clarify whether tears outweigh joys, or vice versa.

Let me start by including a self-explanatory quote from Andrew Dubber’s e-book entitled: The 20 Things You Must Know About Music Online:[1] Sandi Thom, The Arctic Monkeys and Lily Allen are not super famous, rich and successful just because of MySpace, and nor because they miraculously drew a crowd of thousands to their home-grown webcast. PR, traditional media, record labels and money were all involved.
No, indeed - there are no known Internet Cinderellas yet. Those are cheap and disgraceful dreams that harm many and profit just a few.

The Internet as a tool

Too many of those punk geeks

The Machine has made the life of unsigned bands – and established ones - a lot easier. The making, promotion and distribution of an album are all cheaper, easier and quicker than ever before.

Singer, Nancy Elizabeth, when asked about the relationship between music and the Internet, made this comment:

I once made a whole album with someone in Japan, whom I've never met, by sending files over the Internet. For that, the Internet is ace.

Jay Taylor, promoter and musician, thinks:

I remember the first time I started getting Myspace links and messages from bands and what immediately struck me was how great it was for young bands with zero cash. No more CDRs, no more postage, no more photocopies, no more mailers, no more phone calls. They could say everything they wanted about themselves on one Internet page. As a promoter, everything I needed was one click away and actually, in most cases, there was more information there than I was getting in the increasingly large pile of parcels filling my office.
Music makers nowadays have only to e-mail a link to their websites or MySpace pages, to any potential listener, to get their music heard. The Internet and its official language, English, is an instantaneous channel of communication between people from, sometimes, different cultures and countries. You won’t see the face of whoever has sent you that e-mail, you won’t hear the voice, but you will be aware of his/her thoughts.[2] E-mails and their variations, such as messages on messageboards or chatrooms are the most unadulterated form of communication: mind to mind, which does not stop the face-to-face communication in the world of music. Provided that there is a geographical proximity, friendships that originate via Internet messaging develop into more ‘traditional ones’ , where two or more people manage to meet up for a chat and a drink in a physical place.

Musician Andy Hughes warns of some bands’ over-reliance on the Internet:
[1] www.newmusicstrategies.com
[2] I’ll give you my example: have I ever met in person any of the people I have interviewed for this book? Communication has been achieved via the Internet followed in some cases by a phone call… or two.

I want that, I want hunger today and build up a whole supermarket for tomorrow, as a writer. If one day I can manage to write something as impressive as Remains... then I'll be happy enough. Something that breaks you into pieces, to pick them up again and arrange them in a more humane way, a better way...
And for my children.... God, I just want them to know me as much as they can, and that is what my books will do. Mummy wrote about musicians in Manchester, from our house in London, while she cooked lasagna for us...
I'm getting old.
XX

2011

2011-01-02T11:54:00.000-08:00

No hay mejor manera de celebrar el Año Nuevo en Asturias que esto: Cascos se va. Todos a una!! Hooray!!

2010-12-25T11:28:00.000-08:00

Feliz Navidad 2010, no hay nada comparable a ver la cara de los nenes cuando abren los regalos de Papa Noel.

And this is the soundtrack of my winter: Self-Preserved While The Bodies Float Up, Oceansize, 2010.
http://www.oceansize.co.uk

Chancing upon this pathetic blog

2010-12-09T14:48:00.000-08:00

For those of you who might chance upon this blog, out of boredom or perhaps looking for some info on my beatiful Asturias, I would like to have something interesting to say, and, surprinsingly, I don't. I am teacher, a writer and a mother. I can't talk about my career as a teacher -obvious child protection issues, perhaps-, won't talk about my children, for obvious reasons -child protection issues and the fact that my family is private business- and about my writing ventures, well, probably 2011 will see me in a better mood to talk about this.
In the meantime, LA HEROICA CIUDAD DUERME LA SIESTA. And so does my brain...
Besos.

Ediciones Rubeo, editorial del siglo XXI

2010-12-09T14:41:00.000-08:00

Ediciones Rubeo publica EL AHORCADO Y OTROS RELATOS.

2010-12-09T14:39:00.000-08:00

Esta soy yo, mas o menos de cuando hice la primear comunion.

2010-11-23T14:58:00.001-08:00

El Ahorcado y otros cuentos fantasticos en Inglaterra: Ediciones Rubeo y the European Bookshop.

http://www.europeanbookshop.com/events.php

2010-06-23T16:08:00.001-07:00

What next, I wonder?