NESTOR KIRCHNER

This Blog will remenber Dr. Nestor Kichner ever. Today He past away. Nació el 25 de febrero de 1950 en Río Gallegos, Santa Cruz Republica Argentina.

COOL FJORD

To the fourth thousand Missing people from our Nation

Forewords

This is an attempt to recollect written words and ideas of those thinkers who were forget or prohibited or intentionally not mentioned at all in our sacred institutions of study, that lead, in some way, the current disastrous global situation.

I really don’t know if it would deserve any attention by those blog readers or students. This work only left in my soul a sweet taste and it is my intention. I want to say thanks with my limited English to World Wide Web and Google and the Chinese web sites, where I can download for free the books I read, because the cultural sphere like pharmaceutics is still a business.

Special acknowledgements to: British Petroleum and Mr. Obama for the worst environment disaster in world history.

Thanks to Rothschild Family, and to all rich families all over the world. For the amount of money which they only owned, and have the great intention not to share…

To transnational companies that help us to live in a world each day more warm and less sustainable.

Cool Fiord is a melted brain place where you can find .pdf books and essays for free, linked to external sites like megaupload.

I passing through a mental confusion or better said a blasé spiritual state of Daseing. These states are and bringing by the outside world, that collaborate with these two states of human beings: the alienation and the objectification of totus. I dare said that I never thought to be alive in such catastrophic personal situation, it means: to live with hope, a kind of hope like was perfected enunciated by Siegfried Kracauer in his collected essays The Mass Ornament, especially in the essay “Those Who Wait”, let me tell you that collected essays where brightly translated to English by Thomas Y. Levin in 1995 a thousand years after its first German publication in 1963. There is Spanish translation of the collected essays, but I never trust in the Spanish translator’s catholic status of mind. Harvard took its time to publish this book; I specially recommend this book to its school of business members, to whom we all more or less are indebted for the global economic turmoil that they warmly bring us…

I live alive in South America by choose, I rejected to live in North America, NYC, because the first world, as they call these places, have in the inner core the third one, and you can recreate the first world inside yourself at any place where you choose to live. I like “to live alive” near of revolutionary places, where the economics schools and their acolytes failed to abolish (.i.e. US School of Americas implanted Plan Condor). Specials thanks to IMF and WB for their politics, which only nurtured our revolutionary and socials organizations, and in either way, bring us our President of Argentina Dra. Cristina Fernandez de Kirchner, to whom we are proud and will protect her.

I was tempted by soul to do a great job, it could be rewrite the scripts by Siegfried Kracauer, Walter Benjamin, Georg Simmel, or blurts what I thought about what these great writers wrote, but what sense on earth have been the interpretations? What may I say? I only wrote a couple of poems…

Let me confess some, when I read the shampoo novel the lost symbol by Dan Brown in order to escape of my Blasé spiritual attitude, one of the character said to his students “google is not a research synonymous” I refute this asseveration with the external links where you can download the books and essays of this rejected Frankfurt schoolmates (Simmel, Kracauer, Benjamin). If you have to access only to biographical data go to .wikipedia.com

And the name of this work indebted its name to the work of Ian MacEwan novel Solar’ fiord episode. You can download it as .pdf format from this blog as 78 humans beings did… J

Just another thing, I can contradict myself here.

From The Mass Ornament essay by Sigfried Kracauer.

“The capitalist epoch is a stage in the process of demystification. The type of thinking that corresponds to the present economic System has, to an unprecedented degree, made possible the domination and use of nature as a self contained entity. What is decisive here, however, is not the fact that this thinking provides a means to exploit nature; if human beings were merely exploiters of nature, then nature would have triumphed over nature. Rather, what is decisive is that this thinking fosters ever greater independence from natural conditions and thereby creates a space for the intervention of reason. It is the rationality of this thinking (which emanates to some extent from the reason of fairy tales) that accounts—though not exclusively—for the bourgeois revolutions of the last one hundred fifty years, the revolutions that settled the score with the natural powers of the church (itself entangled in the affairs of its age), of the monarchy, and of the feudal system. The unstoppable decomposition of these and other mythological ties is reason’s good fortune, since the fairy tale can become reality only on the ruins of the natural unities.

However, the ratio of the capitalist economic system is not reason itself but a murky reason. Once past a certain point it abandons the truth in which it participates. It does not encompass man. The operation of the production process is not regulated according to man’s needs, and man does not serve as the foundation for the structure of the socioeconomic organization.”

Another one…

The current site of capitalist thinking is marked by abstractness. The predominance of this abstractness (1933 year!!) today establishes a spiritual space that encompasses all expression. The objection raised against this abstract mode of thought- that is incapable of grasping the actual substance of life and therefore must give way to concrete observation of phenomena- does indeed identify the limits of abstraction. In other words, the unchecked development of the capitalist system fosters the unchecked growth of abstract thinking (or forces it to become bogged down in a false concreteness). The more abstractness consolidates itself; however, the more man is left behind, ungoverned by reason.

“Viewed from the perspective of reason the mass ornament reveals itself as a mythological cult that is masquerading in the garb of abstraction. Compared to… the concrete immediacy of the other corporeal presentations, the ornament´s conformity to reason is thus an illusion. In reality the ornament is the crass manifestation of inferior nature. The latter can flourish all the more freely, the more decisively capitalist ratio is cut off from reason and bypasses man as it vanishes into the void of the abstract.

Another extract from The Mass Ornament Essay.

“Present Day thinking is confronted with the question as to whether it should open itself up to reason or continue to push on against it without opening up at all. It cannot transgress its self-imposed boundaries without fundamentally changing the economic system that constitutes its infrastructure; the continued existence of the latter entails the continued existence of present-day thinking. In other words, the unchecked growth of abstract thinking (or forces it to become bogged down in a false concreteness). The more abstractedness consolidated itself; however, the more man is left behind, ungoverned by reason.

From the Essay Those Who Wait.

“The alienation from the absolute and the isolation and individuation both leave their mark in a relativism that has been pursued to the extreme. Since these people lack ties and firma ground, their spirit/intellect drifts along without direction, at home everywhere and nowhere. They traverse the infinite variety of spiritual/intellectual phenomena- the world of history, of spiritual events, of religious life-as isolated individuals who no longer stop for anything, equally close to an equally far from all circumstances. Equally close, since they easily submerge themselves in any essentiality, because there is no longer any faith that would bind their spirit/intellect and thereby prevent it from being somehow consumed by and all phenomena. Equally far, since they never consider any insight as the ultimate one-that is, they have never penetrated an essentiality to such an extent that they could enter its depths permanently and, so to speak, never leave it. Their restless wandering is only an indication that they live at the greatest remove from the absolute and that the spell which envelops the self and which renders the essence of things unambiguous has been broken”.

From the same Essay.

Those people conscious of their situation who lingers in the void maybe can run in these directions… (There are two directions that people can choose, eliminated by the author, and in my opinion doesn’t have any sin. Book page 135.

We are left with three kinds of behavior.

The first attitude is that of someone who is skeptic as a matter of principle, a type perhaps best exemplified by Max Weber. This sort of person clearly grasp the uncanny seriousness of the situation but is at the same time convinced that he and those like him are unable to wrest themselves free of that situation. His intellectual conscience rebels against embarking on any of the paths toward supposed redemption that present themselves at every turn, since these appear to him as so many wrong tracks and illicit retreats into the sphere of arbitrary limitation. As a result, he decides out of inner truthfulness to turn his back on the absolute: his inability to believe becomes an unwillingness to believe.

Hatred of the faith swindlers-hatred in which an already forgotten and long-repressed yearning perhaps still resonates-drives him to fight for the “disenchantment of the world,” and his existence runs its course in the bad infinity of empty space. This lonely existence, however, is no longer naïve in any sense; rather, it is born of an unequaled heroism. As such, it is closer to salvation in its self-imposed wretchedness than is the pampered existence of those who are merely just.

El Tiempo Aquel (That Time) por Samuel Beckett

Written in English between June 1974 and August 1975. First published by Grove Press, New York, in 1976. First performed at the Royal Court Theatre, London, on 20 May 1976

Notes

Moments of one and the same voice A BC relay one another without solution of continuity-apart from the two 10-second breaks. Yet the switch from on to another must be clearly faintly perceptible. If threefold source and context prove insufficient to produce this effect it should be assisted mechanically e.g. threefold pitch.

Curtain. Stage in darkness. Fade up to LISTENER’S FACE about 10 feet above stage level mid stage off centre.

Old white face, long flaring white hair as if seen from above outspread.

Voices A B C are his own coming to him from both sides and above. They modulate back and forth without any break in general flow except where silence indicated. See note.

Silence 7 seconds. LISTENER’S EYES are open. His breath audible, slow and regular.

A: That time you went back that last time to look was the ruin still there where you hid as a child when was that {Eyes close.} grey day took the eleven to the end of the line and on from there no no trams then all gone long ago that time you went back to look was the ruin still there where you hid as a child that last time not a tram left in the place only the old rails when was that

A: El tiempo aquel cuando tú regresabas, ese último momento, a mirar las ruinas aun allí, donde tú te escondías cuando eras niño, ¿cuando fue eso? [Ojos cerrados] día gris tomando el onceavo hasta el final de la línea y desde allí, no, no mas tranvías entonces todo había desaparecido hace largo tiempo, el tiempo aquel cuando tu regresabas a mirar, ese último momento, las ruinas aun allí, donde tú te escondías cuando eras niño, aquella ultima vez ni un solo tranvía abandonado en el lugar, solo los viejos rieles, ¿cuando fue eso?

C: When you went in out of the rain always winter then always raining that time in the Portrait Gallery in off the street out of the cold and rain slipped in when no one was looking and through the rooms shivering and dripping till you found a seat marble slab and sat down to rest and dry off and on to hell out of there when was that

C: cuando tu ibas dentro, fuera del alcance de la lluvia, siempre invierno, siempre lloviendo, el tiempo aquel en la Portrait Gallery, dentro, fuera de las calles, fuera del frio y de la lluvia, durmiendo dentro, cuando nadie estaba mirando, y por las habitaciones tiritando y empapado hasta que tu encontraras un asiento un escalón de mármol y sentado allí para descansar y secarte e irte corriendo de allí, ¿Cuándo fue eso?

B: on the stone together in the sun on the stone at the edge of the little wood and as far as eye could see the wheat turning yellow vowing every now and then you loved each other just a murmur not touching or anything of that nature you one end of the stone she the other long low stone like millstone no looks just there on the stone in the sun with the little wood behind gazing at the wheat or eyes closed all still no sign of life not a soul abroad no sound

B: en la piedra juntos bajo el sol, en la piedra al costado del pequeño bosque, y tan lejos como la vista podría alcanzar el trigo volviéndose amarillo prometiéndose ahora y para siempre amor entre los dos, solo un murmullo, nada enternecedor o nada por el estilo, solo tú en el final de la piedra, ella en otra piedra larga baja, como una piedra de molino (N del T: una cruz, una carga para alguien), sin miradas, solo allí en la piedra bajo el sol, con el pequeño bosque detrás, mirando al trigo o ojos cerrados del todo, ninguna señal de vida aun, ni un alma fuera, ni un sonido

A: straight off the ferry and up with the nightbag to the high street neither right nor left not a course for the old scenes the old names straight up the rise from the wharf to the high street and there not a wire to be seen only the old rails all rust when was that your mother a for God´s sake all gone long ago that time you went back that last time to look was the ruin still there where you hid as a child someone`s folly

A: de inmediato fuera del ferri y cargando la bolsa de noche hacia la calle principal ni a la derecha ni a la izquierda sin un rumbo para las antiguas escenas los viejos nombres derecho hacia la salida del embarcadero hacia la calle principal y allí ni un telegrama para ser leído, solo los viejos rieles todos herrumbrados ¿Cuándo fue eso? Tu madre ¡a por Dios! Todo término hace tiempo el tiempo aquel cuando tú regresabas por última vez para mirar esas ruinas aun allí donde tú te escondías cuando niño insensateces de juventud

C: was your mother ah for God´s sake all gone long ago all dust the lot you the last huddled up on the slab in the old green greatcoat with your arms round you whose else hugging you for a bit of warmth to dry off and on to hell out of there and on to the next not a living soul in the place only yourself and the odd attendant drowsing around in his felt shufflers not a sound to be heard only every now and then a shuffle of felt drawing near then dying away

C: Fue tu madre ¡a por Dios! Todo termino hace tiempo todo polvo que tu el ultimo montón acurrucado en el escalón dentro del sobretodo verde con tus brazos alrededor tuyo ¿quién mas abrazándote a ti por un poco de calor para secarse? e irte corriendo de allí y en lo próximo ni una alma viva en el lugar solo tú mismo y el raro encargado husmeando cabeceando de sueño en todas las direcciones en sus pantuflas de paño ni un sonido para ser escuchado solo una y otra vez una pantufla de paño deslizándose cerca luego desapareciendo

B: all still just the leaves and ears and you too still on the stone in a daze no sound not a word only every now and then to vow you loved each other just a murmur one thing could ever bring tears till they dried up altogether that thought when it came up among the others floated up that scene

B: todo quietud solo las hojas y los oídos y tu del mismo modo inmóvil sobre la piedra aturdido ni un sonido ni una palabra solo prometiéndose ahora y para siempre amor entre los dos solo un susurro una cosa siempre podría traer lagrimas hasta que ellos enmudecieron juntos cuando ese pensamiento apareció entre otros dejando inmóvil esa imagen

A: Foley was it Foley`s Folly bit of a tower still standing all the rubble and nettles where did you sleep no friend all the homes gone was it that kip on the front where you no she was with you then still with you then just the one night in any case off the ferry one morning and back on her the next to look was the ruin still there were none ever came where you hid as a child slip off when no one was looking and hide there all day long on a stone among the nettles with you picture-book

A: Foley(N del T: se refiere a la persona que en una compañía de teatro crea los efectos de sonido para la misma) fue eso un capricho de Foley un pedacito de torre aun de pie entre los escombros y las ortigas donde tu dormías sin amigos todas las casas destruidas ¿fue eso lo que te mantuvo en el frente? No ella estaba aun con vos en ese entonces solo una noche de todas maneras una mañana fuera del ferri y volver a ella la próxima mañana para mirar fueron las ruinas aun allí donde nadie jamás volvió donde tú te escodáis cuando niño recuperándote cuando nadie estaba mirando y te escondías allí durante todo el día sobre la piedra entre las matas con tu libro de cuentos

C: till you hoisted your head and there before your eyes when they opened a vast oil black with age and dirt someone famous in his time some famous man or woman or even child such as a young prince or princess some young prince or princess of the blood black with age behind the glass where gradually as you peered trying to make it out gradually of all things a face appeared had you swivel on the slab to see who it was there at your elbow

C: hasta que alzabas la cabeza y allí frente a tus ojos cuando ellos se habrían una gran mancha de aceite ennegrecida por el tiempo y la suciedad alguien famoso en su tiempo algún hombre o mujer o incluso un niño como un joven príncipe o princesa algún joven príncipe o princesa de la sangre ennegrecida por el tiempo detrás del vidrio donde mirabas atentamente tratando de entender el rostro que apareció entre todas las cosas ¿te diste vuelta en el escalón a mirar que era eso allí en tu codo?

B: on the stone in the sun gazing at the wheat or the sky or the eyes closed nothing to be seen but the wheat turning yellow and the blue sky vowing every now and then you loved each other just a murmur tears without fail till they dried up altogether suddenly there in whatever thoughts you might be having whatever scenes perhaps way back in childhood or the womb worst of all or that old Chinaman long before Christ born with long white hair

B: en la piedra bajo el sol mirando al trigo o al cielo o los ojos cerrados nada para ver solo el trigo volviéndose amarillo y el cielo azul prometiéndose ahora y para siempre amor entre los dos solo un murmullo lagrimas sin fracaso hasta que ellos enmudecieron juntos allí repentinamente en cualquier pensamiento que estuvieras teniendo quizá de regreso a la infancia o en el peor de los casos al útero o aquel anciano chino mucho antes que Cristo nacido con cabellos blancos y largos

C: never the same after that never quite the same but that was nothing new if it wasn`t this it was that common occurrence something you could never be the same after crawling about year after year sunk in your lifelong mess muttering to yourself who else you`ll never be the same after this you were never the same after that

C: nunca fue lo mismo después de aquello ni siquiera parecido pero no fue nada nuevo si eso no hubiera sido aquello esa ocurrencia común por lo que tú nunca podrías ser el mismo después de arrastrarte mas o menos año tras año acabado en la confusión de toda tu vida diciéndote a ti mismo entre dientes quien más que tú que nunca serás el mismo después de eso tú nunca serás el mismo después de aquello

A: or talking to yourself who else out loud imaginary conversations there was childhood for you ten or eleven on a stone among the giant nettles making it up now one voice now another till you were hoarse and they all sounded the same well on into the night some moods in the black dark or moonlight and they all out on the roads looking for you

A: La obra continua en Ingles, con un link externo para descargar la película en formato avi, está en ingles, y puedes leer la obra, mientras escuchas la película si eres estudiante de ingles. La finalizo por razones de tiempo. Si usted quiere la traducción de la obra completa utilice la información de contacto para solicitarla. Esta obra del teatro de Samuel Beckett “no tiene traducción” al español. Si utiliza la obra en español tenga la gentileza de mencionar al blog.

Traducción al Español Rolando Leturia

B: or by the window in the dark harking to the owl not a thought in your head till hard to believe harder and harder to believe you ever told anyone you loved them or anyone you till just one of those things you kept making up to keep the void out just another of those old tales to keep the void from pouring in on top of you the shroud

[Silence 10 seconds. Breath audible. After 3 Seconds eyes open.]

C: never the same but the same as what for God`s sake did you ever say I to yourself in your life come on now [Eyes close.]

Could you ever say I to yourself in your life turning-point that was a great word with you before they dried up altogether always having turning-points and never but the one the first and last that time curled up worn in slime when they lugged you out and wiped you off and straightened you up never another after that never looked back after that was that the time or was that another time

B: muttering that time altogether on the stone in the sun or that time together on the towpath or that time together in the sand that time that time making it up from there as best you could always together somewhere in the sun on the towpath facing downstream into the sun sinking and the bits of flotsam coming from behind and drifting on or caught in the reeds the dead rat it looked like came on you from behind and went drifting on till you could see it no more

A: that time you went back to look was the ruin still there where you hid as a child that last time straight off the ferry and up the rise to the high street to catch the eleven neither right nor left only the thought in your head not a curse for the old scenes the old names just head down press on up the rise to the top and there stood waiting with the nightbag till the truth began to dawn

C: when you started not knowing who you were from Adam trying how that would work for a change not knowing who were from Adam no notion who it was saying what you were saying whose skull you were clapper up in whose moan had you the way you were was that the time or was that another time there alone with the portraits of the dead black with dirt and antiquity and the dates on the frames in case you might get the century wrong not believing it could be you till they put you out in the rain at closing-time

B: no sight of the face or any other part never turned to her nor she to you always parallel like on an axle-tree never turned to each other just blurs on the fringes of the field no touching or anything of that nature always space between if only an inch no pawing in the manner of flesh and blood no better than shades no worse if it wasn`t for the vows

A: no getting out to it that way so what next no question of asking not another word to the living as long as you lived so foot it up in the end to the station bowed half double get out to it that way all closed down and boarded up Doric terminus of the Great Southern and Eastern all closed down and the colonnade crumbling away so what next

C: the rain and the old rounds trying making it up that way as you went along how it would work that way for a change never having been how never having been would work the old rounds trying to wangle you into it tottering and muttering all over the parish till the words dried up and the head dried up and the legs dried up whosever they were or it gave up whoever it was

B: stock still always stock still like that time on the stone or that time in the sand stretched out parallel in the sand in the sand in the sun gazing up at the blue or eyes closed blue dark blue dark stock still side by side scene float up and there you were wherever it was

A: gave it up gave up and sat down on the steps in the pale morning sun no those steps got no sun somewhere else then gave up and off somewhere else and down on a step in the pale sun a doorstep say someone`s doorstep for it to be time to get on the night ferry and out to hell out of there no need sleep anywhere not a course for the old scenes the old names the passers pausing to gape at you quick gape then pass pass on pass by on the other side

B: stock still side by side in the sun then sink and vanish without your having stirred any more than the two knobs on a dumbbell except the lids and every now and then the lips to vow and all around all still all sides wherever it might be no stir or sound only faintly the leaves in the little wood behind or the ears or the bent or the reeds as the case might be of man no sight of man or beast no sight or sound

C: always winter then always reining always slipping in somewhere when no one would be looking in off the street out of the cold and rain in the old green hole proof coat your father left you places

you hadn’t to pay to get in like the Public Library that was another great thing free culture far from home or the post office that was another another place another time

A: huddled on the doorstep in the old green greatcoat in the pale sun with the nightbag needless on your knees not knowing where you were little by little not knowing where you were or when you were or what for place might have been uninhabited for all you knew like that time on the stone the child on the stone where none ever came

[Silence 10 seconds. Breath audible. After 3 seconds eyes open.]

B: or alone in the same the same scenes making it up that way to keep it going keep it out on the stone [Eyes close.]

Alone on the end of the stone with the wheat and blue or the towpath alone on the towpath with the ghosts of the mules the drowned rat or bird or whatever it was floating off into the sunset till you could see it no more nothing stirring only the water and the sun going down till it went down and you vanished all vanished

A: none ever came but the child on the stone among the giant nettles with the light coming in where the wall had crumbled away poring on his book well on into the night some moods the moonlight and they all out on the roads looking for him or making up talk breaking up two or more talking to himself being together that way where none ever came

C: always winter then endless winter year after year as if it couldn`t end the old year never end like time could go no further that time in the Post Office all bustle Christmas bustle in off the street when no one was looking out of the cold and rain pushed open the door like anyone else and straight for the table neither right nor left with all the forms and the pens on their chains sat down first vacant seat and were taking a look round for a change before drowsing away

B: or that time alone in you back in the sand and no vows to break the peace when was that an earlier time a later time before she came after she went or both before she came after she was gone and you back in the old scene wherever it might be might have been the same old scene before as then then as after with the rat or the wheat the yellowing ears or that time in the sand the glider passing over that time you went back soon after long after

A: eleven or twelve in the ruin on the flat stone among the nettles in the dark or moonlight muttering away now one voice now another there was childhood for you till thereon the step in the pale sun you heard yourself at it again not a course for the passers pausing to gape at the scandal huddled there in the sun where it had no warrant clutching the nightbag drooling away out loud eyes closed and the white hair pouring out down from under the hat and so sat on in that pale sun forgetting it all

C: perhaps fear of ejection having clearly no warrant in the place to say nothing of the loathsome appearance so this look round for once at your fellow bastards thanking God for once bad and all as you were not as they till it dawned that for all the loathing you were getting you might as well not have been there at all the eyes passing over you and through you like so much thin air was that the time or was that another time another place another time

B: the glider passing over never any change same blue skies nothing ever changed but she with you there or not on your right hand always the right hand on the fringe of the field and every now and then in the great peace like a whisper so faint she loved you hard to believe you even you made up that bit till the time came in the end

A: making it all up on the doorstep as you went along making yourself all up again for the millionth time forgetting it all where you were and that for Foley’s Folly and the lot the child’s ruin you came to look was it still there to hide in again till it was night and time to go till that time came

C: the Library that was another place another time that time you slipped in off the street out of the cold and rain when no one was looking what was it then you were never the same after never again after something to do with dust something the dust said sitting at the big round table with a bevy of old ones poring on the page and not a sound

B: that time in the end when you tried and couldn’t by the window by the window in the dark and the owl flown to hoot at someone else or back with a shrew to its hollow tree and not another sound hour after hour hour after hour not a sound when you tried and couldn`t any more no words left to keep it out so gave it up gave up there by the window in the dark or moonlight gave up for good and let it in and nothing the worse a great shroud billowing in all over you on top of you and little or nothing the worse little or nothing

A: back down to the wharf with the nightbag and the old green greatcoat your father left you trailing the ground and the white hair pouring out down from under the hat till that time came on down neither right nor left not a course for the old scenes the old names not a thought in your head only wet back on board and away the hell out of it and never come back or was that another time all that another time was there ever any other time but that time away to hell out of it all and never come back

C: not a sound only the old breath and the leaves turning and then suddenly this dust whole place full of dust when you opened your eyes from floor to ceiling nothing only dust and not a sound only what was it it said come and gone come and gone in no time gone in no time

[Silence 10 seconds. Breath audible. After 3 seconds eyes open. After 5 seconds smile, toothless for preference. Hold 5 seconds till fade out and curtain.] The End

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Beckett´s Sacrifice of Archaic Theatre on the Altar of Modernism