9/15/2006

es acedía. por lo tanto angustia, desabrimiento y pereza. y pecado mortal, para rematar.

Nuestro mal humor no depende de las condiciones de nuestra civilización, la cual no es más inhumana y cruel que aquellas que la precedieron en el tiempo. Tampoco del exceso de nuestros deseos. El mal humor moderno nace más bien de la imprecisión o ausencia de deseos: es una dilatación morosa, una vasta, indefinida e indeterminada acedía. Nace de una especie de vacío del alma, que nada podrá calmar, mucho menos la actividad más frenética: nace de algo muerto que uno lleva dentro de sí y que a lo largo de la vida no logrará sepultar completamente... Este triste vacío no puede más que generar las pasiones vagas y apagadas, desoladas e inertes, que se vuelven violentas sólo por tratar de existir. Pietro Citati, "El mal humor".

7 comentarios:

Puni dijo...

Me gusto mucho esa definición del mal humor contemporáneo, debo de buscar a ese autor, creo que me gustaría.

Saludos Nico

Puny.

Rob Gordon dijo...

Chale, Nico... esa definición está chidilla. Ni yo la hubiera explicado mejor jejeje :P

Anónimo dijo...

Tower of Song

Well my friends are gone and my hair is grey
I ache in the places where I used to play
And I'm crazy for love but I'm not coming on
I'm just paying my rent every day
Oh in the Tower of Song
I said to Hank Williams: how lonely does it get?
Hank Williams hasn't answered yet
But I hear him coughing all night long
A hundred floors above me
In the Tower of Song

I was born like this, I had no choice
I was born with the gift of a golden voice
And twenty-seven angels from the Great Beyond
They tied me to this table right here
In the Tower of Song

So you can stick your little pins in that voodoo doll
I'm very sorry, baby, doesn't look like me at all
I'm standing by the window where the light is strong
Ah they don't let a woman kill you
Not in the Tower of Song

Now you can say that I've grown bitter but of this you may be sure
The rich have got their channels in the bedrooms of the poor
And there's a mighty judgement coming, but I may be wrong
You see, you hear these funny voices
In the Tower of Song

I see you standing on the other side
I don't know how the river got so wide
I loved you baby, way back when
And all the bridges are burning that we might have crossed
But I feel so close to everything that we lost
We'll never have to lose it again

Now I bid you farewell, I don't know when I'll be back
There moving us tomorrow to that tower down the track
But you'll be hearing from me baby, long after I'm gone
I'll be speaking to you sweetly
From a window in the Tower of Song

Yeah my friends are gone and my hair is grey
I ache in the places where I used to play
And I'm crazy for love but I'm not coming on
I'm just paying my rent every day
Oh in the Tower of Song

:)

Sr oportuno dijo...

Nah. Una buena tarde de sexo y adiós pereza.

Digo: ya que vamos a pecar, hagámoslo de la mejor manera, ¿no?

Beatriz dijo...

Excelente definición. Lástima que no sirva de paliativo para este mal, pésimo, jodido humor.

Anónimo dijo...

"Something to Talk About"

I've been dreaming of the things
I've learnt about a boy
Whose bleeding, celebrate to elevate
The joy is not the same without the pain

Ipso facto
Using up your oxygen, you know I'm shallow
Calling out for extra help
You've got to let me in or let me out

0h something to talk about
Yeah something to talk about

I've been dreaming of the things
I've learnt about a boy
Whose leaving, nothing else to chance again
You've got to let me in or let me out

Oh something to talk about
Yeah something to talk about

**********

remedy to bad mood.. music.. music.. music & a great film w / great company as.. "a boy"

kisses

Sr oportuno dijo...

Releo mi comentario y me descubro desagradable y soso. Mucho, incluso para mí.

Es preciso aclarar a la concurrencia que lo de la "buena tarde de sexo" como remedio para calmar los malos ánimos es una idea (por cierto nada mala) de Nicolás Cabral en "El dark es cursi".