Living by desires

"The Getaway". Coyoacán, Ciudad de Mexico.

Come on, think. I want you to reach back into those minds and tell me, tell us all, what it is you fantasize about. World peace? I thought so. Do you fantasize about international fame? Do you fantasize about winning a Pulitzer Prize? Or a Nobel Peace Prize? An MTV Music Award? Do you fantasize about meeting some genius hunk, ostensibly bad but secretly simmering with noble passion and willing to sleep on the wet spot? You get Lacan's point. Fantasies have to be unrealistic because the moment, the second, that you get what you desire, you don't, you can't want it anymore. In order to continue to exist desire must have it's objects perpetually absent. Its not the IT that you want, it's the fantasy of IT. So desire supports crazy fantasies. This is what Pascal means when he says "we are only truly happy when daydreaming about future happiness" or why we say "the hunt is sweeter than the kill". Or "be careful what you wish for", not because you get it, but because you're doomed not to want it once you do. So the lesson of Lacan is: living by wants will never make you happy. What it means to be fully human is to strive to live by ideas and ideals and not to measure your life by what you've attained in terms of your desires but those small moments of integrity, compassion, rationality, even self-sacrifice. Because in the end, the only way that we can measure the signifigance of our own lives is by valuing the lives of others. 

The life of David Gale

The Passage

They were all dressed in black, walking somewhere she hasn’t seen before. Her friends were in front of her, leading the way. First she thought they are somewhere in the low hills, but it also could have been a flat meadow. The mist was so dense, it was difficult to tell. Unable to see the source of the dimmed light, she wasn’t sure what time of the day it was. It could have been early morning, before the sunrise, when the water evaporates, creating this mystic haze just above the ground level. It also could have been after the sunset, once the evening rain had cleaned the air again, leaving the omnipresent fog behind. Her friends were walking just in front of her, a bit quicker. She followed them; her grace and his confidence. She wanted to ask why are they walking so quickly, but she did not ask. Nobody was talking. Actually, not one sound could be heard. The silence among them was as perfect as the mist surrounding them. She saw them walking through the grass and she saw her own feet, yet she could not hear any steps. She could feel her lungs working, and the air going through her nostrils, but the air had no smell and no taste, while her breath was inaudible. She was wearing a black dress and no jewelry. It was a nice dress, yet a simple one. Too daring for a funeral, but too modest for a downtown lounge, if you know what I mean. She did not ask herself why she is wearing that kind of a dress in a rural area such as that one, as if she was unaware of even wearing it. She also did not wonder why she was not feeling any cold or any warmth, as the weather conditions would have suggested some sensation of that sort. The only question puzzling her doubtfully conscious mind during that strange walk was why her friends in front of her are walking so fast. “Wait for me” – her lips said noiselessly. They did not even turn around. It seemed as they are being guided and they did not mind. They were walking through this unusual scenery without leaving any footprints, without leaving any signs of their presence. Although they did not seem to walk quicker, the distance between them and her was increasing. She opened her mouth to shout but her voice was mute. Finally, they disappeared into the mist. Next moment she was there alone, not knowing where she came from and which way to go. She woke up. Her friends were gone.

Luisela's Dream

To Johanna Carreño and Mauricio Teillery

Zostawcie Kżyża Mjastu

Stalowy krzyż wniesiony na szczyt góry przez jednego człowieka.
Caracoles, na północ od Distrito Federal, Meksyk.

Walczą dla walki przez całe życie,

to w imię prawdy, to w imię boga,

gdy płaczą, płaczą obficie;

taka już ich moherowa trwoga.

Stawiając krzyże teren swój znaczą,

hasła wolności namiętnie głoszą,

lecz cudze wolności swoimi graniczą,

niby budują, a naprawdę pustoszą.

Wielu z nas pyta: „co to się dzieje?”

tak podzieleni zostali rodacy,

że jeden płacze gdy drugi się śmieje;

po sześciuset latach wrócili KRZYŻACY!

:) Daniel Kocuj

A Word about Fear

I must say a word about fear. It is life's only true opponent. Only fear can defeat life. It is a clever, treacherous adversary, how well I know. It has no decency, respects no law or convention, shows no mercy. It goes for your weakest spot, which it finds with unnerving ease. It begins in your mind, always ... so you must fight hard to express it. You must fight hard to shine the light of words upon it. Because if you don't, if your fear becomes a wordless darkness that you avoid, perhaps even manage to forget, you open yourself to further attacks of fear because you never truly fought the opponent who defeated you.

Yann Mantel

Life of Pi

Bajka o Dwóch Braciach

  
 Całkiem niedawno, w krainie położonej niedaleko stąd, żyło sobie dwóch braci. Młodszy z nich był głupi i brzydki, a starszy jeszcze głupszy i jeszcze brzydszy. Pewnego dnia postanowili, że znajdą sobie żony. Wyruszyli więc niezwłocznie w świat. Pech chciał, że spotkali na swej drodze Dobrą Wrożkę.
- Cześć - powiedziała Dobra Wróżka.
- Czego? - spytał grzecznie młodszy z braci.
- Słyszałam, że szukacie żon.
- No - przytaknął starszy.
- To macie szczęście. Kilka dni temu Zły Czarnoksiężnik porwał piękne Siostry Bliźniaczki i uwięził je w Czarnej Twierdzy. Jeśli je uwolnicie, to być może zechcą zostać waszymi żonami.
- Jak trafimy do Czarnej Twierdzy? - spytał młodszy z braci.
- Wędrujcie nocą. Księżyc wskaże wam drogę - powiedziała Dobra Wróżka i znikła.
Bracia usiedli na drodze i czekali do wieczora. Wreszcie pojawił się Księżyc.
- Cześć - powiedział Księżyc - to wy jesteście ci bracia, którzy szukają żon?
- No - odpowiedzieli bracia.
- Dobra Wróżka wrobiła mnie w zaprowadzenie was do Czarnej Twierdzy. Chodźcie.
Bracia podążyli za Księżycem i jeszcze tej samej nocy dotarli do podnóża wielkiej góry.
- Na szczycie stoi Czarna Twierdza - powiedział Księżyc - idźcie, a ja tu na was poczekam.
   Bracia rozpoczęli mozolną wspinaczkę.
   Zły Czarnoksiężnik był potężny. Mógł zabić braci z dużej odległości. Widząc jednak, że ma do czynienia ze strasznymi głupkami, postanowił się z nich trochę pośmiać i pozwolił im podejść bliżej. Popełnił błąd. Nie wiedział, że bracia byli od małego szkoleni w zabijaniu czarnoksiężników. Zanim się zorientował, był już martwy.
   W Czarnej Twierdzy bracia znaleźli wielką klatkę i uwolnili z niej Siostry Bliźniaczki.
- Będą z was wspaniałe żony - powiedział młodszy.
- No - dodał uśmiechając się głupkowato starszy.
- Wolimy siedzieć w tej klatce do końca życia, niż zostać waszymi żonami - powiedziały Siostry Bliźniaczki.
   Bracia wzruszyli ramionami i zamknęli je z powrotem w klatce. Później wrócili do domu i żyli sobie długo i szczęśliwie, bo w powrotnej drodze ukradli Księżyc i sprzedali go na Czarnym Rynku za kupę forsy.

Maciej Kocuj

Kraina Goblinów

Big Ship

Ixtapa Zihuatanejo

Navy: Please divert your course 15 degrees to the north to avoid a collison.
Civilian: Recommend you divert your course 15 degrees to the south to avoid a collision.
Navy: This is the Captain of a U.S. Navy ship. I say again, divert your course.
Civilian: No. I say again, you divert your course.
Navy: This is the Aircraft Carrier Enterprise. We are a large warship of the U.S. Navy. Divert your course now!
Civilian: This is a lighthouse. Your call.

"Cytrynówka"

Mescal de Agave

Przepis na świetną cytrynówkę, genialny starter imprezy:

0,5 litra spirytusu

7 cytryn

1 szklanka cukru

Cytryny wyparzyć, przeciąć na pół i razem z cukrem w spirytusie wymieszać, odstawić na 24 h.

Następnie przecedzić i można podawać, chociaż ja doradzam wcześniej dobrze schłodzić. :) 

Kupa w studni

Popocatépetl

Nie spotkałem zwolennika Samoobrony, który by powiedział, że wiąże z Lepperem jakiekolwiek nadzieje na poprawę sytuacji. Pytani, co w tym człowieku widzą, ludzie ci odpowiadają zawsze jednakowo: on im pokaże! Cała popularność Leppera opiera się na przekonaniu polactwa, że jest to człowiek nielubiany przez tych, których ono nie lubi. To właśnie sprawia, że perswadowanie, iż Lepper nie ma programu, otacza się aferzystami i oszustami, że sam oszukuje, a nawet eksponowanie tego, że jest bardzo bogaty i że bogactwo to pochodzi z niejasnych, delikatnie mówiąc, źródeł, nie odnosi żadnego zauważalnego skutku. Wręcz przeciwnie - nie lubią go, upewnia się elektorat, i właśnie za to lubi swojego wodza jeszcze bardziej. Kiedy fornal czuje się na dziedzica bardzo rozgoryczony i chce się na nim zemścić, to zrobi mu kupę do studni - i nic go przy tym nie obchodzi, że wodę z tej studni piją nie tylko państwo, ale także i on ze swoją rodziną. Lepper był właśnie taką właśnie zrobioną do wspólnej studni kupą, zemstą polactwa na tym, co prasa nazywa "elitami".

Rafał A. Ziemkiewicz

Polactwo 

Nothing Really Matters - Queen.

Hamlet: Lady, shall I lie in your lap?
Ophelia: No, my lord.
Hamlet: I mean, my head upon your lap?
Ophelia: Ay, my lord.
Hamlet: Do you think I meant country matters?
Ophelia: I think nothing, my lord.
Hamlet: That's a fair thought to lie between maids' legs.
Ophelia: What is, my lord?
Hamlet: Nothing.

William Shakespeare

Hamlet

Black or White

People's personalities are largely determined by the way they balance their views of the world with external reality. A personality consists of the enduring, pervasive behaviour patterns that complex, deeply embedded psychological characteristics create. Although each of us may behave differently, one thing we all have are defences that help us deal with the stresses and strains of daily life. The relationships we develop are coloured by the kinds of defences we use.

People who are in trouble psychologically (who have difficulty balancing their internal and external lives) often resort to "splitting" as a way of coping. Splitting is a tendency to see everything as either ideal (all good) or persecutory (all bad). The way these people see themselves as well as others becomes so oversimplified that they fail to appreciate the complexity inherent in human relationships. They tend to see things in extremes when dealing with other people. While people with unbalanced personalities idealize some people, they vilify others. The attitudinal pendulum shifts all too easily.

Manfred Kets de Vries 
The Dark Side of Entrepreneurship 

The Shades Terminator

Daniel always had many pairs of shades. Maybe that is why he has never learned how to build long-lasting relationships with them. Maybe that's because he pays not enough attention to his shades, and as we all know, unattended eye-wear will not last for long.


I mean many people can say that they had quite many pairs of shades in their whole lives; 'quite many' meaning here more than any normal person which also enjoys wearing shades would have owned. But Daniel, huh, he is like shades-obsessed, programmed to destroy at least 3 pairs each year. He is The Shades Terminator.


Few days ago, after dark, on his way from work, The Shades Terminator bought some decent shades on the market. He put them into his jacket, only to diagnose after coming home, that they haven't made it. Shades terminated. And this was not the first time.


Yet this time, he hadn't worn them even once... 

Coyoacán

Coyoacán. What a place! Imagine, a small town with large squares nearly covered in shadows of trees, within the Mexico City! Closer to the centre than the southern neighbourhoods. The name Coyoacán comes from Nahuatl Coyohuacan, meaning "place where they have coyotes". And as a coyote, you can walk round and round the main square, attracted by the vibe of indigenous music, art and chill. The magnetism of the place is best desrcribed by just mentioning the names of some of its residents. Coyoacán was home to Dolores del Río, Frida Kahlo and Diego Rivera, and also to Leon Trotsky, and the houses they lived in are now both museums. The atmosphere tells you invitingly: "come, when in the world of rush next door, you will want to slow down for a second, but won't have enough time to go far. Have some tee, beer or whatever else you wish - it's all here". And really, in Mexico City you do need that sometimes.

Ego climbing

Monte Albán, the South Platform

Any effort that has self glorification as its final endpoint is bound to end in disaster. Now we are paying the price. When you try to climb a mountain to prove how big you are , you almost never make it. And even if you do it’s a hollow victory. In order to sustain the victory, you have to prove yourself again and again in some other way, and again and again and again, driven forever to fill a false image, haunted by the fear that the image is not true an someone will find out. That’s never the way.

To the untrained eye, ego climbing and self less climbing may appear identical. Both kinds of climbers place one foot in front of the other. Both breathe in and out at the same rate. Both stop when tired. Both go forward when rested. But what a difference ! The ego climber is like an instrument that’s out of adjustment. He puts his foot down an instant too soon or too late. He’s likely to miss a beautiful passage of sunlight through the trees. He goes on when the sloppiness of his step show he’s tired. He rests at odd times. He looks up the trail trying to see what’s ahead even when he knows what’s ahead because he just looked a second before. He goes too fast or too slow for the conditions and when he talks his talk is forever about somewhere else, something else. He’s here but he’s not here. He rejects the here, is unhappy with it, wants to be farther up the trail but when he gets there will be just as unhappy because then it will be ‘here’. What he’s looking for what he wants, is all around him, but he doesn’t want that becaue it is all around him. Every step’s an effort, both physically and spiritually, because he imagines his goals to be external and distant.

Robert Pirsig

Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance

La Torre de Banobras

An old, abandoned bank of quite outstanding architechture. Thanks to the grafiteros each floor is an art gallery.

With each floor the curiosity of the guest is lifted to another level until...

... one reaches the final floors to find a penthouse-like luxurious beureaus and a set of funny church-like bells of different sizes, all connected by strings to some kind of simple organ keyboard.

Then walk on firefighter stairs to the absolute top of the tower to touch the last corner of this huge triangle.

All that you can do after bypassing the security downstairs. How that is

done? Well, it's a kinda magic.