Sunday, May 8, 2011

Bojangles French Fry Seasoning Recipe



Like Vila-Matas. Just start reading it and I already like. I like that you like Gombrowicz and has wanted to be like him before you read it. And that justifies and enjoy your writing but I have read only half of two of his books, yes, simultaneously. I like what I write Vila-Matas and I like your Doctor Pasavento you like Robert Walser and his nether regions: "If ever one hand, an opportunity, a wave lifted me and take me to the top, there which dominates the power and prestige, would shatter the circumstances that had brought me there and I would throw myself down at the tiny and insignificant darkness. Only in the lower regions it breathe, "says
Pasavento that" what we actually do when we walk through a city is to think " and rightly so. At least in my case. Today. Buenos Aires walking while looking without seeing and thinking that I really like the people who bend to the side opposite to the reputation and take refuge in the basement. Ernesto Basement, slyly told Borges Sabato, for his delight in the tunnels and tombs, but it seems that Don Ernesto liked the surface that Don Jorge Luis. Gombrowicz himself boasted of his noble blood, perhaps to offset his shyness. Because this does not prevent the authors I like vain, of course. But I think of Bruno Schulz painting and writing without much interest Drohobicz leaving your home. Or Kafka, Brod ordering his friend to burn all his writings. Or Pessoa with his not wanting or able to be nothing. I also like the lower regions. And while the talent has nothing to do with the position in which the writer feels in theater literature, I feel more comfortable with those who are not killed by a box, the cost to get away a bit of Hemingway, or Onetti Cela, who I have not read maybe that's why. The regions below I see up there in the Paradise theater (or poultry which do not rise as ever)

If it appears that Vila-Matas is not so but only your doctor Pasavento so I do not care. What I care about him is what he says in his books. There, in paradise, where the stage rather than guess what you see, Kafka, Schulz, Walser and Borges, say little about themselves and their work. Because they are common types when not writing. Artists who are as dark as any of us who surf anonymously by the lower regions.




Dedicated to Alejandra Moglia and his excellent blog I got the warning Vila-Matas.

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