Günter Grass: My century

 Life sure seems like a series of pronoun referent errors sometimes.  Am I, as Descartes would suppose?  Or is Sartre to be believed, and is what seems to be I really a He?  Perhaps I am really a we, a near infinity of selves, overlapping at points to create the illusion of existence.  It gets even more dizzying when grammatical case is applied.  Am I or is Me?  Subject or Object?  

Grass here throws the entire question into the blender by slapping the genitive case on the title, and then doggedly refusing to clarify.  One would assume that the century in question belongs to the author, and for large stretches of the book that is true.  He, or some version of him, is the I of many of the chapters, and there is an air of straightforwardness to those years that leads the reader to trust their account.  

More often, however, "I" is as far removed from Grass himself as possible.  Presumably fictional characters, historical figures, and often narrators without any perceptible identity at all.  The book culminates in a Gordian knot of identity, where I is not only a real person--the author's mother--but also quite explicitly dead while narrating.  

While Grass leaves us in this pronominal quandary, however, he at least does so knowingly.  "I'm He now," says the narrator in "1972".  "He--no longer I--never had an easy time of it" (191).  The I, the narrator of the story, is in this section explicitly as fluid as the narrator of the whole book is implicitly.  The genitive, eponymous owner of the century is both I and They and, to the extent possible, You.  It is only in this way that Grass can capture the most turbulent 100 years that humans had known up until that time in ". . . rhymed and unrhymed poems and short stories and overly long chapters representing 1) work currently in progress on both sides of the wall, and 2) the world in miniature" ("1975", 202).

Nathaniel: Psychic Development Simplified

 Simple is different than easy.  While this was certainly straightforward and clear, as advertised in the title, it was no small or light task to get through.  It took me years, peppered with setbacks, recidivism, and distraction, to finish the lengthy and involved exercises herein.  It would have taken less than a day to simply read.

And what did I get for my trouble?  Clarity, certainty, and direction?  Far from it.  As with every other thing I've read or practiced in the line of Spirit and Religion, the results are unclear at best, and possibly even misleading.  When I feel or see some energy that is not discretely quantifiable, do I really?  Reality and experience have a convenient way of lining up with whatever one has already decided.  The placebo effect is just as real in theology as in medicine.  Is my intuition leading me this way or that?  Or is it my ego?  My desire to believe, and to be special? I have demonstrated time and again that I cannot be trusted to make that determination.  

There are certain concrete moments that I cling to as evidence of spirit, of an underlying force moving and stirring reality.  Viewed objectively, though, such moments would not pass peer review.  There has never been a moment where I can objectively say, "Yes, this is true.  This works."  

his would not be so discouraging if I were not surrounded by people who testify to a different experience.  Nobody seems as unsure of their reality as I am.  My family, of course, are deluded and wishful in their beliefs.  But I know plenty of people who follow a religious tradition that I consider wrongheaded, who testify to demonstrable proofs in their own lives.  The same is true of the people I know who follow something resembling Nathaniel's path.  They all seem so sure.  They actually see spirits.  They actually hear messages.  Either reality is closed to me and me alone for some reason, or all of these people are insane.  Neither prospect is edifying.

For now, however, I will continue to search.  Just as most of my religious friends are laughably deluded, so too are those of my friends who pooh-pooh anything remotely supernatural.  There must be something greater than me; I can feel it, and I can sometimes see and hear it even.  Or am I merely in the control group of a double-blind metaphysical trial?

Wang Ch'ung: Lun Heng

 I've been seeing clouds differently lately.  Every sky has been so vivid, so entrancingly, hypnotically lovely.  Nearly every day, I've been awe-stopped in my tracks by the formations, never the same, never boring, never staying put for even an instant.

It is not in my nature, however, to leave such feelings of awe and gratitude alone.  My mind invariably tries to pour those feelings into little test tubes and swirl them around with reactants to see what they mean, or portend, or reveal.  In this case, the result has been the question, "What must the ancestors have thought when they had moments like this?  What were clouds to them?"

Old paintings show a version of clouds with puffing cheeks, bringing the wind, themselves agents of change and movement.  I can't put myself in the mind that would have interpreted them this way though.  I can't see that version of clouds.  To me, and maybe to whatever ancestors gave me this way of thinking, they are more like flowers, growing, budding, blooming and disappearing in a time-lapsed, aerial Spring. 

Of course whatever version of clouds the ancestors knew, it was wrong.  Clouds are not now the mystery that they once must have been.  Whatever was said about clouds--and about blood, and rain, and water, and fire, for that matter--is now manifestly ridiculous.  If my ancestors had spoken up and said, "Clouds are not like gods; they are more like plants," they might have been seen as visionaries, or at the very least iconoclasts.  But their version would have been as wrong as the one they purported to correct.

Which is the only way to see Wang Ch'ung.  A beacon of clarity, he dared to contravert the contemporary understanding of the natural world.  He saw inconsistency, and where others were content to leave it in a limbo of cognitive dissonance, he was not; he dragged reality flailing into the light, submitted it to rigorous questioning, and left it in what was to him a purer form.  

It's easy for us to look back at his writing and see that, for all his questioning of convention, he was never really escaped it.  He may have poked a few tiny holes in the assumptions of his time, but remains encased in inconsistent, ludicrous, or circular reasoning.  In the section 雷虛篇, for example, he interrogates the idea that lightning strikes are the result of divine anger, and comes to the conclusion that lightning and thunder are indiscriminate, and not tied to anyone's good or bad behavior.  This is demonstrably true, and far ahead of its time.  Well done.  For every misguided understanding that he untangles, however, he replaces it with another, equally tangled one.  In the case of lightning and thunder, and with fate in general, he cannot free himself from his assumptions and asserts that they are the result of to much or too little of the heavenly liquid.  He has reasoned himself out of a blind well, and stumbled immediately into another.  Perhaps more accurately, he has escaped one box and satisfied himself that the larger box he finds himself in does not exist.  

It is frustrating to the reader to witness.  "You are so close!  Keep going!  Keep questioning!" I found myself cheering.  But he never does.  The version of reality that Wang Ch'ung posits is just as convoluted as the one he criticizes.  Clouds are not huffing and puffing gods, but neither are they flowers, and wrong is wrong.  

As I look at my path, the myriad things I have unlearned, and the things with which I have replaced them, I cannot help but assume the same of myself.  The religion I escaped has no power over me.  But are the beliefs and perceptions with which I have replaced it any different?  In how many boxes am I sealed, and is there any escape possible?

Kurt Vonnegut: Cat's Cradle

 Revisiting this book took a bit of the sheen off of it for me.  When I first read it [checks blog] 13 years ago, I was smitten with the philosophy of Bokononism, and even now cheekily identify myself as a Bokononist when people have the temerity to ask after my religious beliefs.  On this reading, however, I find myself jaded even to that belief system.  

Instead of gazing starry-eyed at Vonnegut's philosophy, this time I was more aware of his craft.  All of the elements were there in fine form: the metaliterary structure, the book in my hand eventually revealed to be nothing more than a pillow; the orthographic innovations, in this case the calypso interludes; and of course the kernel of truth.

What is the truth here though?  If it is not the religion itself, nor even the wider ideas about religion, which reveal themselves to be shallower than I remembered, then what?  It is revealed in the title, naturally.  The Cat's Cradle is the real religion here.  Everything, including this book, is an elaborate twisting of yarn, one upon which we project our own forms.  There is no such thing as a Karass, sadly, likewise society, love, and culture.  This is the ultimate in string theory: the seemingly intricate connections that make up our reality are but one knotted line, revealed as flaccid and formless with a simple tug. 

Agatha Christie: The Murder of Roger Ackroyd

I don't suppose it's entirely fair of me to say that I got the best of Agatha this time.  While true that I guessed at her tricks well ahead of the ending, I was aided by two things: the endorsement on the back cover that promised "an ingenious and surprising twist," and my knowledge of her tendency to choose the most surprising outcome possible.  Thus forewarned, who else but the narrator could it have been?  what other ending would satisfy those criteria?  

My own cleverness in predicting the ending, however, pales in comparison to that of the writer in constructing it.  The mechanism of the book in one's hand being the very book mentioned in the story is a favorite mechanism of mine, and Christie executes the trick as deftly as, if not more so than, Vonnegut in Cat's Cradle.  Christie had to speak with two voices here, the writer's and the narrator's, and keep them both firmly in hand throughout.  The balancing act between revealing what the writer would want without confounding the narrator is so deft as to be invisible.  It is especially satisfying as a feat that would be utterly unsuitable for other media, and I can only imagine that any filmed version is a pale shadow of the printed.

Add that to Christie's gift for characterization, mastery of pacing, and playful misdirection, and one has a book that transcends her others and, by my definition at least, becomes something very like literature.

Tanizaki Jun'ichirō: The Makioka Sisters (Sasameyuki)

 Often I pause to wonder of the author, "I wonder what he was thinking," but I cannot recall ever before wondering, "What was he thinking?!?" in quite the way I did after finishing this book.  I was worried at first about finding myself in the midst of another Buddenbrooks, just a story of the inevitable decline of a family, the unsustainability of the status quo, and a bunch of generally unpleasant people.  Gradually I unclenched, however, and began to trust the author to do right by these charming characters.  Each had her faults, of course, but thoroughly realistic ones, subtle, forgivable, and human.  Each of them was simply being herself, inconvenient though that made life at times.  Though Sachiko was clearly the protagonist, I found myself rooting for Taeko.  No doubt my Western paradigm conditions me to applaud her pointedly Western virtues. True to his Japanese roots, Tanizaki was not telling a story so much as painting a picture, and it was lovely and comfortable.

And then things turned.  The third section so abruptly shifted in tone and trajectory that I wondered if I was missing something.  Was this even the same book?  Were these even the same people?  The pace seemed to quicken, the narration grew offhanded, and it seemed like the author had grown tired of writing it.  Yukiko's traditional virtues grew from troublesome to infuriating.  Taeko was turned from an independent, capable, modern woman into nearly a whore. The trust I had developed for the author was shattered, and I braced for a melodramatic, cynical bloodbath.  I should have been so lucky!  The only ending the reader is given is a bowel movement.  

What could possibly have happened? What on Earth could have occurred between the writing of the first two sections in 1943 and the third in 1948?  If only there were something in history that could reveal why the author so completely reversed his opinion on the various Eastern and Western qualities on display in the book.  It is conjecture, of course, to suppose that such a thing could explain the sudden shift.  Perhaps he intended all along to end by literarily shitting on everything.  Perhaps nothing changed at all in Japan during that time and I'm reading too much into it.  We may never know.

King John

 I.1.5-16: Already Shakespeare has established the various characters and their foils.  I remain of the opinion that this efficiency and clarity is one of his most singular gifts.

23-28: Perhaps setting up a conflict between sight and sound in this play?

31-42: If so, then Eleanor is decidedly on the side of Sound.

57-58: And John on the side of Sight.

88-91: I am already excited to find evidence for my reading.  "Accent," draws Eleanor's attention, while John trusts only his "eye".

141-151: Philip seems to plead the case of Sight.

174: Likely to be important later in the case of  Chance v. Truth.

160, 205: Philip/Bastard/Richard has adopted a policy of "No, after you."

245-280: For Richard, and perhaps he is the voice of this play, sound follows sight, and voice follows countenance, as in nature.  The Truth, of which he speaks, however, is still of unknown provenance.

 

II.1.15-16: Perhaps another dichotomy, heart and hand?

33: If so, we know where Constance and Austria fall.

50-51: The opposite order than that John predicted.  Constance's voice travels quickly.

58-59: But John's presence, even more so.

66-68: Are more than Richard here described?

79: Unlooked for, but not unheard.

121-134: Twas ever so between daughters and mothers in law.  Interesting that the "blot" is upon the supposed bastards here, and not upon the sires--the opposite of a similar conversation in I.1.

180-181: Slander and injury, sound and sight.

206-207: The trumpet and the tongue, to follow that which has already been decided in the eye.

235-239: Bullets against words.

285: What signifies this interjection? Not clear yet of what it presages.

300-304: A hilarious dig at Austria, and well suited to Richard's character.  He is his father's son withal.

312-336: Little difference between the two "trumpets".

365-375: One king is very like another.  Only the battle of confusion against peace will determine the outcome.

389-412: A confusion that Richard diffuses, to reveal a peace of his own making.

425-432: Which leaves Richard to claim the East.

474-488: A victory for Sound?

526-531: Ay,no, for Sight indeed!

 533-544: Blanche hedges her bets, whether it be sight or sound that prevails.

588-626: A new contestant: Commodity!  One whom Richard has already disavowed, but is prepared to embrace should the feeling be mutual.

 614-615: My favorite lines so far in this play: 

    And why rail I on this Commodity?

    But for because he hath not wooed me yet.

III.i.13-16 A nice summary of Constance's character, emphasized by ending four lines in a row with the same "fears", something that Shakespeare never does without cause.

32-34: One wonders whether it will be possible to find the overlap of this conflict between belief and life resonate with that between sight and sound.

39: If so, it is this: that belief and sound have triumphed, remaking life and sight in their image.

54-60: And this is reflected in the workings of Nature and Fortune as well. Any other author, one might be attempted to accuse of namedropping philosophical constructs in the hopes of appearing deeper to shallow ears.  It is already clear here, though, that the parallels are consistent and prefigure something even truer ahead. The battle, at least in Constance's eyes, rages between sight, life, and Nature on the one side, and sound, belief, and Fortune on the other with the latter currently prevailing.

78-86: And whose declaration, whose version of reality, will prevail?  If sound exert its authority over sight, then Constance has the upper hand.

137: Philip the Bastard may be the best role here, if not the juiciest.

153-166: John declares himself for sight, and laughs at words.

170: The connection made between Commodity and sight, adding the former to the ranks of the latter.

216-220: Blanche pipes up ever so briefly, to declare herself for sight, and in a way that reveals her beautifully.

219-226: The addition of faith and need crowds the battlefield.

234-262: Philip knows not how to declare, revealing the conflict between sight and sound to be unclear in his mind.  The vow of friendship and marriage, the curse of the Pope, both are of the latter materiel after all.  Perhaps all is sound, and sight is merely what we make of it.  If so, then the loudest voice shall prevail.

263: Is this, then, the thesis?  All form is formless, order orderless.

273-308: Pandulph's word salad may seem purposefully dizzying, as befits a man of the cloth, but is at least consistent with his allegiance to Commodity.

335: My reading is suddenly trembling under its own weight.  Philip here seems to declare for sound, the pleadings of chatterboxes, and the first-sworn oath, rather than the very literal hand that he holds, John's temporal threat, and furthermore of practical gain.  If this play ends badly for John, then my reading is correct.  If not, the obverse.

III.ii: It doesn't look good for Philip, and by extension for my reading.

 

III.iii.27, 35: How telling.  Twice John forbears to speak.  What does this forbear?

50-53: Aha!  sight and sound are not enemies after all, at least in John's estimation.  They are both of them lying offshoots of Sense.

70: And John is revealed in a word.  Sense is treacherous to him because he makes it so.

 

III.iv.21: Constance is surely determined to be right.  Her recent advice proving fatal, she falls back upon her former words.

39-40: Constance's complaint is that her voice was not strong enough to shape reality.

94: Philip is on to something here.  Constance may simply like to grieve.

115-126: It remains to be seen is Pandulph is the voice of fate here, or an empty cleric.

128-143: Thus far, at least, he speaks practical truth.

161-162: The imagery here calls me back to my earlier reading.  The judgement of heaven is phrased in terms of sound, whatever that may end up meaning.

186-187: Again, sound is thought to shape reality. We shall definitely see. 

 

Al-An'am

 Again we begin with the letter بِ, and cannot resist invoking the power of that letter.  I have even gone so far as to inscribe it on an amulet.

1: I much prefer this to the opening of Genesis.  Allah grants that there be darkness, the void, as well as light.

2-3: Only one of the translations--I am now considering four simultaneously--seems to note the second "term" mentioned here.  One term for this life, and another for the next.

4-6: Hulusi's interpretation of رَبِّهِم is thoroughly integrated into my readings now.  The Lord here is the higher self, and it would be difficult to convince me otherwise.

7-9: Especially because the challenge here is not to believe what one sees from without, but to perceive and act according to the dictates from within.  Hulusi's translation "doubt-dilemma" is undeniably a liberty, but an apt one.

10: I wonder if we will be seeing a lot of this structure: they will be confused by that which they confuse.  they will be mock by that which they mock.

11: Sadly, this does not hold up with reality.  The fate of the deniers on this earth is little different than the fate of any others.

12: Whenever the question of who rules reality is raised, it is usually followed by a reminder such as in 1: that both the dark and the light are both ruled by Allah.

13: Sure enough.

14: The eponymous أَسلَمَ takes center stage again, and this surah already feels more coherent than any of the others so far.

15-18: More reinforcements of the themes submission to one's highest self and embrace of the void as well as the light.

19: The equation between idolatry and duality is not self-evident.

20-24: Rather difficult to break this section into smaller parts; it continues until at least 49, which is another sign that this book is more linear and coherent than the previous.  These four verses seem to be merely the first beat, the first of their errors: to ascribe equals to Allah.

25: The expected argument seems rather more applicable to the dualists themselves.

26-28: No Holy text would be complete without unverifiable threats.

29-32: The next related mistake: to believe in this as the final reality.  So foolish by any measure.  Even were there no afterlife, the idea that one is their own body is ludicrous.

33-36: Rather a cheeky suggestion: "If you really want to convince them, go ahead.  Show them a miracle.  I'll wait."

37-38: Them: "Gib miracal pleez" Him: [gestures broadly]

39: this remains the most troubling part of the Quran so far.  To what end would Allah purposefully lead some astray?

40-41: From an organizational standpoint, however, it makes sense as a hedge against the fact that it doesn't always work out the way we would expect.  It is the equivalent of "God works in mysterious ways," which I have also always hated.  What nonsense.

42-45: This also reeks of entrapment, and furthermore as gilding the lily.  Why would it be necessary for Allah to torment wrongdoers in this life, if the ultimate judgement is inescapable?

46-47: Furthermore, why would it be necessary for Allah to test their hearts in this way?  the only possible conclusion is that there are those whose hearts are intractable and those whose hearts are locked open, but also those in the middle who can be influenced one way or another.  It is to these latter that the Quran--and one would assume most sacred texts--is addressed.

48-49: Further support for the above.  It is something of a comfort, in fact, to be told that there is hope even for those of us who are not holy by instinct.

50-51: The blind are lost to their own blindness.  But if you can see even a little, there is hope.

52: I have trouble with this verse, and the inconsistency of the various translations shows that I am not alone.  The admonition here seems to be to the Prophet himself, rather than to the reader.  Why would the Prophet need to be reminded not to turn away the devout?

53-55: Perhaps it is related to the natural tendency of humans to see only with their eyes, and say "Those who are poor must be doing something wrong." The admonition is to resist that urge, and embrace the lowest among us.

56-58: "Y'all better be glad that it is Allah who decides things and not me [shakes fist]."

59-60: The only mention I have seen in any sacred text of the mystery of sleep.

61-62: The Golden Thread is visible in the tapestry here.  The Prophet is in agreement with Lao Tze, Confucius, Solomon, Epicurus . . . there are bigger things to worry about than your death.

63-64: This is manifestly untrue, especially considering 52-55.  Allah rescues on this plane, but he also deigns not to, and it is seemingly arbitrary which way he will treat you.

65-67: Difficult to escape the inconsistency here.  In one breath, Allah rescues those who humbly beseech Him.  In the next breath, he afflicts them for seemingly no reason.

68-69: Don't associate with dualists.  In case you do by accident, don't get sucked in to the trap of feeling responsible for them.

70: You can remind them of the reality, but let it end there.

71: I cannot help but wonder, when a verse like this seems cloudy to me, whether I am one of those whom Allah has intentionally blinded.

72-73: The power of sound underlies these verses, and reminds one of Hulusi's obsession with certain syllables.  All creation is merely a word, and the sound of the trumpet is all that will be necessary to end it.

74-79: Where is this amazing account in the Bible or Torah? It beautifully captures the moment of enlightenment, whether metaphorical or not, much better than Newton's apple.

80-81: The truth was revealed to Abraham only in that it was there all along and he saw it for the first time.  The book of reality remains the best evidence, as in 37-38.  The fact applies to me today as well.  I search for signs, and marvels, but perhaps my eyes are still blinded.

82-83: The problem lies here.  According to this, Abraham's eyes were opened by the whims of a capricious deity.  It is no use to seek enlightenment, for it is either given to you or not.

84-87: Oh, to be so chosen!

88-90: There must be some way of reconciling these ideas.  Some are chosen, but clearly not for their own willingness to believe, for even among those chosen some deny what is revealed.  In their place, still others are chosen, from among whom even more deny.  One must have both luck and virtue to attain enlightenment, a horrifying parallel to material success.

91-92: How many times must this pattern be repeated? And what of any books revealed after the Quran?  

93-94: Where are your gods now?  Your material goods and all your worldly success?  

95-97: Indeed, the book of reality is more than enough.  Life and death, light and darkness, all are revealed.

98: Lots of disagreement on this verse, but the most straightforward interpretation in context is that the self is given a body, and then a grave.

99-102: Very rational and intuitive.  The acrobatics required to maintain a doctrine of Jesus' godhood are indeed ridiculous.

103-105: Does He actually make it clear, though?  Or does he purposefully blind some, and reveal himself to others?  The repetition of these contradictions reveals no new key to a blinded one such as I am.

106-107: This, at least, I see clearly.  The core is unity, and submission to that unity.

108: Another admonition that goes ignored today.  

109-111: this might be a glimmer of the key to unlocking the problem  of Allah "lock[ing] their hearts."  It is not that He has locked their hearts actively, perhaps, merely that he refuses to play their pointless game and answer their meaningless demands.

112-113: But this belies that interpretation.  Has Allah really actively recruited deceivers?  Is He not content to follow his own advice here?

114-115: This is poignant advice to me now.  The Book of reality is clear.  The filigrees of jinns and prophets are a distraction.

116-118: i hope for more elaboration about what to "eat," especially insofar as it is open to metaphor.

119-122: The connection requires some disentanglement here.  There are those who say, "why not eat what is dead?" Allah replies, "Because it is better to eat that which is alive."  I am emboldened by Hulusi to take serious liberties with this interpretation, admittedly.

123-125: It is a stretch, but an extrapolation is possible here: Allah has not shrunk the hearts of some actively; He has merely created reality, and reality is such that those who cannot submit are unable to understand.

126-127: The simple path is the true one, but it is tempting to take the intricate path instead.  Very opposed to the corresponding Christian doctrine.

128-134: I wonder what happens to the jinn on this day, though.  They were merely serving their function, after all.

135-136:A subtle but important bit of metaphysics: If one's worship is divided, it all goes to the lowest destination.

137-140: Here is where a metaphor is irresistible.  If the cattle here is not literal meat, but truth, then truth in and of itself is useless without submission, and sacrifice for the sake of sacrifice is delusion.

141-142: Accordingly, certain animals are not forbidden because they are unclean, but merely because to eat them is wasteful.

143-145: I wonder if modern Muslims allow for he eating of pork if forced out of need, as indicated here.  The verses are clear: this is not pedantry, but practicality.

146: A more detailed list than I recall from the Torah.

147-150: Underneath this is a principle that could be applied elsewhere.  The dualists say, "There is no law against adding to the law." The Prophet is instructed to reply, "Your default position should be to stick to what is revealed, not to add random nonsense. When in doubt, keep it simple."

151-153: Speaking of simple.  The straight path is consistently emphasized in this book.

154-156: I get the feeling of "As per the email I already sent you,".

157-158: The Quran can well make this claim.  It is indeed clearer and more straightforward, especially in this surah, than what has gone before.

159: Including divisions between Sunni and Shia?

160: This is indeed a comfort.  I have done bad in life, but just maybe I have done enough good to have not been a complete waste of life.

161-165: An excellent, and uncharacteristic, summary. 

 

 

Aleister Crowley: The Drug & Other Stories

 No doubt I should have tempered my expectations with the fact that this is a collection of lesser-known or previously unpublished stories.  My hunger for the arcane, however, led me to seek more in this book than was there.  Surely in 600 pages there would have been at least one that was worth remembering--rereading even.  Sadly, not to my mind.  I suppose I'll have to read Crowley's more famous works eventually, but I will do so with a more cautious eye, one too often fooled recently by books that promise to pierce the veil, but only scatter the cards.  The question seems to be whether Crowley was a genuine mystic, or an imaginative con man.  For now, I am in the latter camp.

Félix Lope de Vega y Carpio: Peribáñez y el Comendador de Ocaña

There is so much lost in the reading of a work meant for stage.  Not only the sets, lighting, and costumes, but the work the actors do in bringing a character to life with only what is written--all of that is left to the reader to supply.  More often than not, I am left with an appreciation for a few moments or ideas, but altogether unaffected.  

The exceptions, of course, those plays which come to the reader as full-fleshed works of human experience even without all of the bells and whistles, deserve their place as the greatest of all time.  Shakespeare, Chekhov, and Ibsen are among those who are able to effect me, though hobbled by the page.

How great must a work be, then, to do the same but in a language removed from the reader both by time and place?  My Spanish is progressing (and working my way through this section of Ward's Lifetime of Reading has helped), but it is still only my third language.  On top of that are the archaic spellings and usages one would expect of a 16th century work, with which a dictionary is little help.  The fact that I'm still not confident enough to write this review in Spanish is submitted to evidence.

Nonetheless, twice in the reading I was moved to tears by the beauty and truthfulness of the language.  Act I scene IXespecially, with the ABCs of love and marriage, could stand as one of the most endearing love poems ever.  I stanned them so hard that when all was resolved in the final scene, I once again was moved to tears.  Who knows what jewels are hidden under the language and still obscure to me.

What a triumph for Lope de Vega.  What a masterpiece, no doubt the pinnacle of his achievements, a labor that consumed his life and holy fuck he wrote 636 other plays?!? As well as poetry and novels? Even this one is enough to earn him his nickname: Fénix de los Ingenios.  I am incapable of grasping the fact that he wrote even more and need to lie down.

The Deer Hunter

 Am I imagining it?  Am I simply displacing my own thoughts and experiences onto the work that I just witnessed?  Let us examine the facts.

Various synopses of the movie state that both Nick and Michael were in love with Linda.  I can find no evidence for this in the film itself, however.  Nick's engagement to Linda is definitely not a romance, but rather an offhanded suggestion.  Michael can barely be bothered to touch her, though she is gorgeous, fun, and obviously in love with both of them.  

Nick and Michael live together, and Michael says that he doesn't want anyone but Nick--albeit in the context of hunting.  

Stan says that he has repeatedly fixed Michael up with women, but that nothing has ever happened, whereupon he accuses him of being a faggot.

The gazes that the two share are too many to enumerate, and every other relationship in the movie is flat and sterile, if mentioned at all.

Michael suddenly strips off all his clothes and runs naked through the streets with Nick chasing him?  WTF?

As Nick dies, Michael declares his love in a way that could be homosocial, but at this point that is more of a stretch than the other conclusion.  I feel like I am trapped in an alternate reality where I even have to make this case.  The opposite should be true. Ink should be spilled by those who wish to see the relationship as platonic, brotherly love, not the other way around. On top of which, we can layer writer and director Cimino's life as a confirmed old bachelor with no record that I could find of relationships hetero or otherwise, and a super gay presentation.  One could argue that it is just how a Hollywood director presents himself, but nuh-uh.  Not the straight ones.  Have you seen how they look?

It's all speculation, of course, and furthermore irrelevant.  The movie was good, if flawed, and it means to people whatever it means to them.  I am reminded of other times, however, that there was something in a work that I felt insane for seeing: Mrs. Dalloway, for one.  That book was gay as fuck, and only later did I learn that Virgnia Woolfe was an initiated Sapphist.  Maybe this will be another example and I'll get to be, if not right, at least sane.

Ramón Gómez de la Serna: Las Proximas Greguerías hasta 500

Como siempre,  resalto frases inciertos.

301. El acto más bello de la playa es ver cómo se quita las medias de arena la mujer bonita.

The loveliest act of the beach is seeing how the woman removes her sandy stockings.

 

302. Disparaba su encendedor como quien se suicida elegantamente.

He flicks his lighter as one committing an elegant suicide.

 

303.  Los mejillones son las almejas de luto.

Mussels are clams in mourning.

 

304.  La lira está hecha con los cuernos del poeta.

The lyre is made from the horns of a poet.

 

305.  El cerebro es un paquete de ideas arrugadas que llevamos en las cabeza.

The brain is a package of wrinkled ideas that we carry in our head.

 

306.  El cielo estrellado de la noche había sacado brillo a las sortijas frotándolas contra su frac azul.

The starry night sky has polished its rings by rubbing them against its blue coat.

 

307.  Esponjas: Calaveras de las olas.

Sponges: the skulls of ocean waves.

 

308.  El gallo canta en una lengua muy anterior al sánscrito, la primitiva lengua en que le enseñaron a cantar.

The rooster sings in a language much older than Sanskrit, the ancient language in which he learned to sing.

 

309. El toro muerto en la arena de la plaza parece una bicicleta caída.  

The dead bull on the sand of the arena looks like a fallen bicycle.

 

310. Los cangrejos son manos de pianistas torpes tocando barcarolas.

Crabs are clumsy hands of pianists playing barcaroles.

 

311: El ascensor llama en todas las puertas por las que pasa, pero solo una le hace caso.

The elevator knocks on all the doors it passes, but only one answers.

 

312:  El ultimo orgullo de la gallina desplumada es parecer un cisne, por como se alarga el cuello con la muerte.

The ultimate arrogance of the plucked rooster is to seem a swan, considering how it stretches out its neck in death.

 

313: La coliflor es un cerebro vegetal que nos comemos.

The cauliflower is a vegetable brain that we eat.

 

314:  Da pena ver a ese pobre libro apretado entre formidables topes. ¡Qué pesado debe ser para que dos elefantes hagan ese terrible esfuerzo para sostenerlo!

It’s sad to see a single book wedged between two heavy bookends.  What weight could it have such that two elephants would make such a huge effort in holding it up!

 

315:  La media luna mete la noche entre paréntesis.

The half moon places the night in parenthesis.

 

316:  El que tartamudea habla con máquina de escribir.

He who stutters talks using a typewriter.

 

317: Las mujeres son doblemente Judas cuando se son traidoras entre ellas, porque dan un beso en cada mejilla a la víctima.

Women are double Judases when they betray each other, because they give their victims a kiss on both cheeks.

 

318.  Cuando en la Guerra oímos hablar de divisiones, se nos presentan los soldados en forma de esa operación aritmética, y el cociente final depende de cómo fueron divididas las divisiones.  ¡Atroz cuando no dan sino 0000!

When in war we hear talk of divisions, it presents us with soldiers in the form of that mathematical operation, and the final quotient depends on how they are divided.  Terrible when they don’t give the zeroes!

 

319.  El panegírico parece alimenticio, pero no es.  

The eulogy seems to be a balm, but it isn’t.

 

320.  Noticia de Pensilvania: un caballo de carreras se casó con una señorita.

News from Pennsylvania: A racehorse got married to a lady.

 

321. El mono siempre está cejijunto.

The monkey is always scowling.

 

322.  Hay también otros fenómenos que se podrían llamar correspondientes, y entre está el que sucede con el pantalón cuando el hombre gordo se ata un zapato.  

There are certain phenomena that we can call inevitable, and among them is what happens to the pants when a fat man ties his shoe.

 

323.  El aparato distribuidor de gasoline parece que despacha en los caminos aguardiente para la embriaguez de la velocidad.

The gasoline pumps on the streets seem to sell liquor that gets one drunk on speed.

 

324.  El mono tiene cara de criado del hombre.

The monkey has the face of a man’s servant.

 

325. La turista es una mujer que sabe sentarse en una butaca del hall del hotel y quedarse mirando el reloj tres o cuatro horas.

The tourist is a woman who knows hoe to sit in hotel lobby armchairs and stay watching the clock for three or four hours.

 

326. En los escaparates de la mueblerías hay tes a los que se han olvidado de asistir todos los invitados, y hasta la misma dueña de casa.

The the furniture shop windows there are Ts for those who have forgotten to assist all the guests, and even the very lady of the house.

 

327. La ansiosa se da el rouge como si fuese una barra de chocolate.

The nervous woman applies rouge as if it was a bar of chocolate.

 

328. Dante o el arbusto de laurel.

Dante or the laurel bush.

 

329. La lune de verano reparte gazpacho.

The summer moon serves gazpacho.

 

330. La niveve dota de papel de escribir a todo el paisaje.

The snow grants writing paper to the entire landscape.

 

331. El murciélago pretende tijeretear la luna.

The bat pretends to snip at the moon.

 

332. Constantamente aparecen en las cajas de cerillas, cerillas gemelas y hasta tríos de ellas, unidas por la misma cabeza . . . Es un pequeña estafa que se comete con nosotros, haciéndonos gastar dos cerillas o tres, cuando con una hubiera sido suficiente, además de que así se vengan las cerillas y, solidarizadas, nos llegan a quemar las yemas do los todos.

There are always twins and triplets of matches in the box, joined at the head . . . It’s a minor swindle committed against us, forcing us to use up two or three matches when one would have been enough, and besides selling matches this way, in solidarity, forcing us to burn all their heads.

 

333. Los cocodrilos so baúles del tiempo de los Faraones.

Alligators are trunks from the time of the pharaohs.

 

334. En los sueños aparecen amigos de nuestros amigos que no son nuestros amigos.

There appear to us in dreams friends of friends, who are not our own.

 

335. Temblor de cristales: escalofrío de la casa.

A house shivers by shaking its windows.

 

336. Nuestra sombra es la caja de violin de nuestra figura.

Our shadow is the violin case of our figure.

 

337. En la Edad Media había dentistas de almenas.

In the middle ages, the battlements had dentists.

 

338. El sapo se sabe tan feo que solo sale de noche.

The toad thinks it’s so ugly that it only goes out at night.

 

339. En la campana hablan el sielo y el abismo.

Bells are the conversation between the sky and the abyss.

 

340.  El tiempo no corre más gracias a las tortugas.

Time does not run faster thanks to the turtles.

 

341. Le mordió una gárgola y murió en al acto.

A gargoyle bit him, and he died on the spot.

 

342. El día en que el arco iris se ponga de luto sera el día del Juicio Final.

The day when the rainbow dons mourning will be the day of the Final Judgement.

 

343. El árbol tiene venas y circulación, pero no tiene corazón, ¡por eso vive tanto!

The tree has veins and circulation, but no heart.  That’s why it lives so long!

 

344. Al cine hay que ir bien peinado, sobre todo por detrás.

One must go to the cinema with a good hairstyle, better than everyone behind.

 

345. Cine de todos los tiempos: un hombre que quiere montar una vaca, y la vaca que no quiere ser caballo de ninguna manera.

Theater for all times: a man who wants to ride a cow, and the cow who doesn’t wish to be a horse by any means.

 

346. El que recomienda a su especialista al amigo que «tiene lo mismo», aspira a que le sustituya y le releve en su enfermedad.

He who recommends his specialist to a friend who “has the same problem” hopes that he would go instead of him, and cure his ills.

 

347. Desde que el hombre viaje en subterráneo teme menos a la muerte, como si hubiese familiarizado con los gusanos.

After one has travelled underground, he fears death less, as if he has become familiar with the worms.

 

348. –No tengo más que dos combinaciones. –No debías tener niguna.

“I don’t have but two nighties”

“You don’t need to have even one.”

 

349. Los leones de bronce son tanto leones como cañones.

Lions of bronze are as much cannons as lions.

350. La isla tropical es una luna que se baña.

The tropical island is the moon bathing itself.

 

351. El costillar colgado es uno de los elementos más decorativos de la carnicería; es como un cuadro de museo que se ha escapade del museo y que se van a comer, kilo a kilo, los críticos del arte.

The hanging rib cage is one of the most decorative things hanging in the butcher’s window, it is as if a painting had escaped the museum, and was being devoured, kilo by kilo, by the art critics.

 

352. La major ingenuidad del novel círculo literario es el nombramiento de tesorero.

The greatest naivete of the new literary magazine is the appointment of a treasurer.

 

353. Cuando se dice «asteriscos» parece hablarse de dimunitos pedazos de estrella.

When one says “asterisks”, it seems as if one is speaking of tiny pieces of star.

 

354. El teléfono es el despertador de los despiertos.

The telephone is an alarm clock for those already awake.

 

355.  El té es una especie de tabaco para pasarlo por agua.

Tea is a species of tobacco to be passed through water.

 

356. El corazón no puede ser sordo, porque los teléfonos de las arterias le comunican lo que va sucediendo en la vida.

The heart cannot be deaf, for the telephones of the arteries communicate what has happened in life.

 

357. A los pintores les preocupa mucho el poner la pinta blanca que hace que los ojos miren con amistad o con enemistad.

Painters are preoccupied with placing the white paint which makes the eyes look with friendship or enmity.

 

358. En el fondo de la guitarra debía haber cigarros, monedas y otras sorpresas.

In the bottom of the guitar there must be cigars, coins and other surprises.

 

359. Al oír que dice el bruto: «yo solo me he hecho a mí mismo», pensamos en lo mal escultor que ha sido.

Hearing the brute say, “I am a self-made man,” we think of the bad sculptor he has been.

 

360. Aquel auto era tan perfecto, que tenía una cámara fotográfica en el radiator para fotografar sus atropellos.

That car is so perfect, it has a camera in the radiator to photograph its accidents.

 

361. En el algodón retoña la barba blanca de la experiencia de la tierra.

In cotton, the white beard of the earth’s experience grows.

 

362. Siempre se ganan las guerras por el alma nueva que se emplea en ellas . . . El primer ejército que tuvo tambores tuvo una victoria.

Wars are always won by the new soul that is used in them . . . The first army that had drums had a victory.

 

363. Los peces pasan en fila de turistas.

Fish pass by in a line of tourists.

 

364. El sultán tiene un turbante contra el dolor de cabeza.

The sultan has a turban for his headache.

 

365. En la Guía de teléfonos está el nombre del Mecenas posible.  ¡Pero cualquiera lo encuentra!

The name of Maecenas might be in the phone book.  But anyone can find it!

 

366. Cuando hemos sentenciado a muerte a la mosca parece que se da cuenta y desaparece.

When we sentence a fly to death, it seems to realize it and disappear.

367. Al mirar al cielo de la noche piense el pobre: «¡Cuántas estrellas y qué poco dinero!»

The poor man thinks, as he looks to the night sky, “How many stars and how little money!”

 

368. La luna es un espejo en que no nos alcanzamos a ver por cortos de vista.

The moon is a mirror in which we can’t glimpse ourselves because we are too short-sighted.

 

369. ¿Ha pensado alguien en una película en esperanto?  ¡Sería esperantosa!

Has anyone thought of a film in Esperanto? It would be very highly anticipated!

 

370. ¡Con qué rapidez logran hacerse las maletas del film!

How quickly they are able to do the film cases!

 

371. En los grandes transatlánticos superdotados y superproducidos sale whisky por el grifo del baño.

In the well-equipped ocean liners, whisky comes out of the bathroom faucets.

 

372. La mosca del fuego es la que provoca el incendio.

It is the firefly (firework? Fire beetle? Sparks?) that cause the fire.

 

373. La máquina de coser es el aparato cinematográfico de las sábanas blancas.

The sewing machine is the cinematographic apparatus of the white sheets.

 

374. Las camisetas encogen como si nos volviesen a la infancia.

T-shirts shrink as if to return us to infancy.

 

375. Los anuncios que se encienden letra a letra nos convierten en niños que deletrean.

Those advertisements that light up letter by letter turn us into children spelling out the words.

 

376. Los tahoneros son los payasos de la madrugada.

Bakers are the clowns of dawn.

 

377. El mundo estará definitivamente viejo cuando las hormigas negras se vuelvan hormigas blancas.

378. The world will be truly old when the black ants become white ants.

 

379. Hay ventiladores que se sienten obispos y no hacen más que dar benediciones a su aldredor.

There are fans which seems like bishops, and do no more than pass blessings around.

 

380. La muchacha que lleva la pelota del niño en la red parece que pasea un pequeño montgolfier.

The girl who carries a boy’s ball in a net seems to be showing off a little hot air balloon.

 

381. La larga cola de la novia es la vereda que conduce hasta ella al novio desorientado.

The girlfriend’s long pnytail is the path that conducts the lost boyfriend back to her.

 

382. Las únicas hojas que no mueren en los árboles de invierno son los pájaros.

The only leaves that don’t die on the trees of winter are the birds.

 

383. ¡Qué tragedia! Envejecían sus manos y no envejecían sus sortijas.

What a shame! The hands age, but the rings do not.

 

384. Las nubes de la tarde acuden al ocaso para empapar su sangre y caer como algodones usados en el cubo del otro hemisferio.

The afternoon clouds go toward the sunset to soak up its blood and fall like used cotton in the wastebin of another hemisphere.

 

385. La tormenta comienza con un gran portazo conyugal, como si la diosa se hubiese marchado violentamente, dejando al dios encolerizado.

The storm begins with a huge marital slam, as if the goddess had left the angry god in a huff.

 

386. El león tiene altavoz propio.

The lion has his own loudspeaker.

 

387. Hay unas nubes largas y finas que son como costillas del cielo.

There are clouds as long and fine as if they were the ribs of the sky.

 

388. La oreja humana interroga siempre, porque, si bien se observa, tiene forma y dibujo de interrogación.

The human ear is always asking because, if you look closely, it has the shape and pattern of a question.

 

389. Cuando se desfonda un bolsillo comienza la peritonitis del traje.

When the bottoms of the pockets fall out, the peritonitis of the suit begins.

 

390. «Admón. de Loterías” es un nombre bíblico más que una abreviatura.

Admin. of the Lottery is more of a biblical name than an abbreviation.

 

391. El pianista se calienta los pies en los pedales.

The pianist warms his feet on the pedals.

392. Los osos blancos tienen el hocico negro para que así no se pierdan y se les distinga en medio de la nieve.

Polar bears have black snouts so that they don’t get lost and can be seen against the snow.

 

393. La i es el dedo meñique del alfabeto.

The I is the pinky finger of the alphabet.

 

394. Los negros tienen voz de túnel.

Black people have the voice of a tunnel.

 

395. ¡Qué fácil es que el adulto pase a ser adúltero!

How easy it is for an adult to become an adulterer!

 

396. Hay suspiros que comunican la vida con la muerte.

There are sighs that connect life and death.

 

397. En el piano de cola la música levanta su ala negra y nocturna de ángel caído queriendo ascender al cielo de nuevo.

In the grand piano, music lifts her black wing and the nocturne of a fallen angel wanting to return to heaven.

 

398. El ser más importante de contraespionaje es el descifrador de papeles secantes.

The most important person in counterespionage is the decipherer of drying papers.

 

399. Lo que más le encanta al turista es afeitarse en distintos lugares del mundo con sus viejos bártulos de afeitar.

The tourist likes best to shave himself in new places with his same old razor.

 

400. La mujer que después de la riña cierra su puerta por dentro no temaís que se suicide.  Se está probando un sombrero.

The woman who, after a row, closes her door from the inside is not afraid to be murdered. She is trying on a hat.

 

401. El azúcar de cuadradillo sirve para que sepa el niño cuándo es día de visita.

Sugar cubes serve to tell the child when it is visiting day.

 

402. El alba en el tren es grave como una operación.

Dawn in a train is as serious as an operation.

 

403. La sopa es el baño del apetito.

The soup is a bath for the appetite.

 

404. Las momias fueron fajadas como recién nacidas de la muerte.

Mummies were swaddled as if they were recently born from death.

 

405. La guillotina fue la maquina de afeitar que inventó la Revolución francesa.

The guillotine was a shaving razor that the French Revolution invented.

 

406. Cuando funciona el aspirador eléctrico del vecino de arriba nos absorbe todas las ideas que teníamos.

When the upstairs neighbor’s fan is running, it absorbs us in all the thoughts we have had.

 

407. La escalera en medio de la habitación es la letra capitular de la casa.

A staircase in the middle of a room is the capital letter of the house.

 

408. La radiografla nos descubre el corsé interior.

The x-ray shows us our interior corset.

 

409. Era tan flaco aquel lenguado, que parecía la cuenta anticipada en bandeja de plata.

That flounder was so thin, it looked like the check arriving on a tray.

 

410. Nunca es tarde si la sopa es buena.

Nothing is late if the soup is good.

 

411. «Las broches de sus medias la sostenían como las pinzas sostenien los periódicos galantes en el pentagrama de los quioscos», o bien se puede decir: «Los broches del corsé sostenían las revistas ilustradas de sus medias.»

“The clasps of her stockings hold them up like newspapers on a rod at the newsstand,” or better yet, “The clasps of her corset hold up the picture magazines of her stockings.”

 

 

412. Eva fue la esposa de Adán,y, además, su cuñada y su suegra.

Eve was the wife of Adam, besides being his sister-in-law and mother-in-law.

 

413. Los pensamientos amarillos tienen celos de los pensamientos morados.

The yellow pansies are envious of the violets.

 

414. Todavía no saben que no oímos mientras nos lavamos, que somos una especie do sordos mientras dura el chapuceo.

They still don’t understand that we can’t hear while bathing, as though deaf while the bath lasts.

 

415. El pantopón es el tapón de los dolores.

Morphine is a plug for pain.

 

416. La idiosincrasia es una enfremedad sin especialista.

Idiosyncrasy is an illness for which there is no specialist.

 

417. La última nota rasgada del tango es su rúbrica.

The last, pear-shaped note of the tango is its signature.

 

418. Al rinoceronte le han salido colmillos por donde no debían haberle salido.

The rhino’s eyeteeth come out where they should not have.

 

419. La pesadilla del pianista consiste en soñar con un piano de teclado kilométrico.

The pianist’s nightmares are of playing a piano with a kilometric keyboard.

 

420. Mujer que pierde los dedales, mujer impropia para formar un hogar.

A woman who loses thimbles is not fit for making a home.

 

421. Al ver la cabeza de San Juan en la bandeja pensamos que al ir a afeitarle le degollaron.

Looking at the head of Saint John on a tray, we think of them slitting our throats when we go for a shave.

 

422. Ya sabemos que la chuleta tiene hueso; pero, sin embargo, siempre nos irritará el hueso de la chuleta.

We already know that the chops have bones, but we nonetheless are irritated by them.

 

423. Los guantes adquieren manías y posturas propias, y en la soledad hacen gestos do los que han visto hacer a sus dueños.

Gloves acquire their own manners and poses, and in their soiltude make gestures such as they have seen their owners make.

 

424. Prefiero las máquinas de escribir usadas porque ya tienen experiencia y ortografia.

I prefer used typewriters because they already have experience and know how to spell.

 

425.  En los pianos de cola es donde duerme acostada el arpa.

The harp sleeps laying down in the grand pianos.

 

426. El tenedor es el peine de los tallarines.

The fork is a comb for noodles.

 

427. Nadie como el padre sabe extender la manteca en el pan de los hijos.

Nobody knows like a father how to spread the butter on his children’s bread.

 

428. Comer en una Embajada es comer protocolo con salsa tártara.

To eat in an embassy is to eat protocol with tartar sauce.

 

429. Las criadas se exceden en el esmero de encerar los pisos para ver si así resbalan y se matan sus señores.

The servants overwax the floor to see how the masters slip and kill themselves.

 

430. El mosquitero es el hada de los sueños.

The mosquito net is the fairy of the dreams.

 

431. Uno de los espectáculos más bonitos de la Naturaleza es ver cómo la luna se traga un murciélago.

One of the most lovely sights of the natural world is the moon calling forth a bat.

 

432. El huevo frito es una ola en miniatura; una ola con yema.

The fried egg is a miniature ocean wave--one with a yolk.

 

433. El papel celofán lo inventó la serpiente, que lo emplea en sus camisas desde su presentación en el Paraíso.

Cellophane was invented by the serpent to use in its shirts since its introduction in Eden.

 

434. En la Via Láctea se agolpa el polvo fulgurante que levantaron en su camino las carrozas sidereales de los grandes mitos.

The Milky Way is crammed with the shining dust raised by the parade floats of the grand myths as they pass.

 

435. El espejo de afeitar es fríamente maligno, porque no está deseando más que ver si nos cortamos.

The shaving mirror is chillingly evil, because it doesn’t wish for anything but to see if we cut ourselves.

 

436. Las tijeras quisieran formar un ejército de tijeras.

The scissors would like to form an army.

 

437. Los eucaliptos siempre tienen la camiseta desgarrada.

438. The eucalyptus always wears a tattered shirt.

 

439. Lo peor que hace el arte, lo que es un ejemplo de antiarte, es pintar paisajes en el parche del tambor del jazz.

The worst thing that art does, which is an example of anti-art, is to paint landscapes on the head  of a jazz drum.

 

440. El orgullo del sapo es atroz, porque dedica su concierto a las estrellas.

The toad’s pride is terrible, for it dedicates its concert to the stars.

 

441. La muleta del toreo es el telón del teatro guiñol de la muerte.

The cape of the bullfighter is the curtain of the Grand Guignol.

 

442. El péndulo del reloj acuna las horas.

The clock’s pendulum rocks the hours in their cradle.

 

443. Lo más suntuoso de los grandes hoteles es que nos ponen cinco toallas cada cinco minutos.

The biggest extravagance of the great hotels is giving us five towels every five minutes.

 

444. La pantalla cinematográfica está orlada de negro porque es una esquela de defunción de lo que va sucediendo en ella.

 

445. Los faisanes debían llevar la cola a los pavos reales.

Pheasants have to carry the trains of peacocks.

 

446. Los chalecos tienen cuatro bolsillos para hacernos concebir vanas esperanzas.

Waistcoats have four pockets to make us know false hope.

 

447. Un tumulto es un bulto que les sale a las multitudes.

An uproar is a bulge that protrudes from crowds.

 

448. Las sillas de las antesalas y de los recibimientos siempre están «esperando contestación».

The chairs of anterooms and waiting rooms are always “awaiting reply”.

 

449. A los que llevan un pedazo de papel de goma pegado en la cara debían echarlos al correo.

Those who have a bit of stickey paper stuck to ther faces should put themselves in the mail.

 

450. El automóvil empolvado parece haber salido de las bodegas de la velocidad.

The dust-covered car seems to have come from the cellars of speed.

 

451. Después de comer alcachofas, el agua tiene un sabor azul.

After eating artichokes, water tastes blue.

 

452. Termos: bala pacífica para los desayunos.

Thermos: a peaceful bullet for breakfast.

 

453. Los sordos ven doble.

The deaf travel in pairs.

 

454. En el Polo Norte está el gorro de dormir de la Tierra.

The North Pole has the Earth’s sleeping cap.

 

455. Las llaves de los hoteles condecoradas con una medalla son como primeros premios en el concurso de abrir puertas.

The keys of award-winning hotels are like first prizes in a door-opening competition.

 

456. Nos asomamos a los cochecitos de los niños con la maligna intentción de ver o unos gemelos o unos trillizos.

We peek at baby carriages with the malintent of seeing some twins or triplets.

 

457. El joyero piensa mientras duerme: «¡Bah! La perla del alba es tan grande, que no tiene valor comerciál.»

The jeweler thinks as he sleeps, “Bah! The pearl of the dawn is to large to have any commercial value.”

 

458. En los hilos de telégrafo quedan, cuano llueve, unas lágrimas que ponen tristes los telegramas.

When it rains, tears wait on the telegraph lines to add sadness to the messages.

 

459. Al sentarnos al borde de la cama, somos predsidiarios reflexionando en su condena.

When we sit on the edge of the bed, we are convicts reflecting on our sentence.

 

460. Sólo hay un olor que puede competir con el olor a tormenta: el olor a madera de lápiz.

There is only one smell that can comete with that of a storm: that of pencil wood.

 

461. El disco es la ondulación permanente de la música.

The record is the permanent rippling of the music.

 

462. Sube la bandera al mástil como si fuese el acróbata más ágil del mundo.

The flag rises on the pole as if it were the most agile acrobat in the world.

 

463. Las estrellas trabajan con red.  Por eso no se cae ninguna sobre nuestra cabeza.

Stars work with a net.  That is why none ever fall on our heads.

 

464. La vide es decirse ¡adiós! en un espejo.

Life is telling yourself “goodbye!” in a mirror.

 

465. En el fondo do los pozos suenan los discos de la luna.

The records of the moon play in the depths of wells.

 

466. Hay el farol espía.  Se lee un papel bajo su luz y en seguida va con el cuento a la Policía.

There is a spy lantern.  It reads a paper under its light, and then takes the account to the Police.

 

467. La lenteja con bicho es el más minúsculo reloj de cuco.

Lentils with bugs in them are the tiniest cuckoo clocks.

 

468. El banjo nació de un raqueta y una mandolina.

The banjo was born from a raquet and a mandolin.

 

469. Amo las estrellas de mar porque aún no se han hecho latas de sardinas de estrellas de mar.

I love starfish because they still haven’t been put into tins.

 

470. Los aviones, al caer, tienen el gesto consolador de estrellarse con los brazos en +.

Planes, when they fall, have the consoling gesture of crashing with their arms in a +.

 

471. Una máquina de escribir silenciosa es una máquina en zapatillas.

A silent typewriter is a machine wearing slippers.

 

472. La estatua ecuestre no es buena si el caballo no le da una coz al que lee el discurso.

Equestrian statues are no good if the horse doesn’t give a kick to those reading the inscription.

 

473. El que bebe en taza, hay un momento en que sufre eclipse de taza.

He who drinks from a cup momentarily undergoes an eclipse.

 

474. El caer una bandeja en el suelo nos sobresalta, como si hubiese sonado el gong de la mala suerte.

The flag falling to the floor startles us as if it were the gong of bad luck. 

 

475. --¿Por qué cuando vamos a pedir los gemelos de teatro al compañero de palco es cuando él se los lleva a los ojos? 

--Porque ha visto la misma mujer.

-- “Why is it whenever I ask my box companion for the opera glasses, he’s always using them?”

-- “Because he has seen the same woman.”

 

476. Domingo: perro corriendo detrás de una piedra lanzada.

Sunday: a dog chasing after a thrown rock.

 

477. Las estrellas telegrafían temblores.

The stars telegraph tremors.

 

478. Hay cajas de fósforos idiotas y otras que no lo son tanto.

There are idiot matchboxes, and others not so much.

 

479. Primero nació Eva de una costilla de Adán, pero en seguida devolvió en sus hijos muchas mas costillas que la que la habían adelantado.

At first Eve was born from one of Adam’s ribs, but later she returned in their children far more ribs than she was advanced.

 

480. El español es un alma en pena.

Spanish is a soul in pain.

 

481. La lectura mejor para los viajes en el subterráneo son Las memorias de ultratumba.

The best reading before trips underground is Memoirs from Beyond the Grave.

 

482. Las lágrimas que se vierten en las despedidas de barco son más saladas que las otras.

The tears that are spilled in a nautical farewell are saltier than others.

 

483. Al poner papel carbón, entre papel y papel, se prepara la carta y su falsificación.

In putting carbon paper between two sheets, one prepares both the letter and its forgery.

 

484. Era tan pulcro aquel verdugo, que desinfectaba las guillotina antes de cortar la cabeza a la victima.

The executioner was so tidy, he disinfected the guillotine after each decapitation.

 

485. La Historia está escrita en un papel deleznable que se comen las ratas.

History is written in a crumbly paper that the mice eat.

 

486. La luna de Benarés aparece en nuestros cielos de noches muy azules, y se nota que es la de Benarés porque lleva turbante.

The moon of Benares appears in our sky on the bluest of nights, and shows that it is from Benares by wearing a turban.

 

487. Lo que le da más horror a la luna es el bostezo de cocodrilo.

The moon is most terrified of the crococile’s yawn.

 

488. Echaba el terrón con un gesto tan importante, que parecía echar una perla en el té.

He threw the clod with a grand gesture, as though throwing a pearl into the tea.

 

489. Adagio es u consejo triste.

An adagio is sad advice.

 

490. El pavo real barre el jardín con plumas de oro.

The peacock sweeps the garden with plumes of gold.

 

491. El que tiene la sed desesperada del whiskey aprende a servirselo sin que se note.

He who has a desperate thirst for whiskey learns to serve himself without noticing.

 

492. Los globos de los niños van por la calle muertos de miedo.

The children’s balloons go along the street scared to death.

 

493. Aquella mañana los pájaros cantaban al revés.

That morning, the birds were singing in reverse.

 

494. ¡Qué gesto como de acordarse de alguien, de no se sabe quién, pone el que saborea una copa de licor!

What a gesture one makes while enjoying a cup of liquor--that of remembering someone, but not knowing whom!

 

495. Me gusta ver las grandes orquestas de vioines, porque la oblicuidad movida de los muchos arcos simula una especie de lluvia musical.

I like to watch grand violin orchestras, because the oblique movement of many bows at the same time is a type of musical rain.

 

496. Era tan fresco aquel tipo, que cobrada un seguro de maternidad.

That type is so cool that are covered by maternity insurance.

 

497. Cuando entrecomillamos algo, tenemos escritura de árabes.

When we add quotation marks to something, we know how to write in Arabic.

 

498. Se asfixian unos gabanes a otros en las perchas llenas.  Yo tengo un gabán que me asfixió una vez, y no he podido volver a usarlo nunca.

Some scarves strangle each other in their full hangers.  I had a scarf that strangled me once, and I was never able to use it again.

 

499. El gesto que hacen los elegantes al sacarse el pañuelo del faldón del frac es un gesto ignominioso e indecent.

The gesture made by dandies as they take a kerchief out of their tailcoat is ignominious and indecent.

 

500. Da vergüenza abandonar el guante inutilizado del plátano, que en una mesa bien servida hubieran debido enviar al tinte antes de servirlo.

It is embarassaing to abandon the useless glove of the banana, such that in a well-appointed table they should have sent it to be dyed before serving it.

 

501. Esas bombillas que se encienden y se apagan parecen castañuelas de luz.

These bulbs that flicker on and off seem to be castanets of light.

 

502. Todo el drama de algunos films es que la doncella se olvidó de cerrar las persianas y se vio todo desde la calle o desde el jardín.

The entire drama of some films is that the maiden forgot to close the blinds was seen by all from the street or the garden.

 

503. Los que van mucho al cine acaban teniendo un párpado nictitante.

Those who go o the cinema a lot end up having nictating membranes for eyelids.

 

504. El alabastro es tan carnal, que podría gastar camisa.

The alabaster is so fleshly that it could wear a shirt.

 

505. El murciélago está hecho con alambre y con piel de ratón.

The bat is made from wire and the skin of a rat.

 

506. Cuando con la pluma se hace un enredijo de líneas sale una masa encefálica.

When one makes a squiggle of lines with a pen, brain matter appears.