Ese nombre oigo.
Ese nombre salta.
Ese nombre vuelve.
No es un eco.
No es un hito.
La mano tiembla.
El sudor domina.
Ese nombre oigo.
Esa dispersión.
Deseos disueltos.
Ese nombre oigo.
Aliento sin luz.
Un minuto basta.
El minuto de un tiempo.
El hálito de una sombra.
© Ernesto González, 2011
Sunday, February 27, 2011
Repite y pon, camarón
Repite y pon, camarón.
En el puerto de la prisa.
Repite y pon, camarón.
En el coche sin andén.
Arde. Candela al jarro.
Jarro en la candela.
Jarro sin fondo.
Escapa la llama por
la boca.
Arde el jarro
ya sin fondo.
Repite y pon, camarón.
Arrímate a la orilla.
Huye del fondo,
Huye del jarro,
Huye del fuego.
Repite y pon, camarón.
Repite y pon, camarón.
Arde. Camarón sin jarro.
Arde. Jarro sin fondo.
Arde. Fuego sin orilla.
Repite y pon, camarón.
Repite y pon, camarón.
© Ernesto González, 2011
En el puerto de la prisa.
Repite y pon, camarón.
En el coche sin andén.
Arde. Candela al jarro.
Jarro en la candela.
Jarro sin fondo.
Escapa la llama por
la boca.
Arde el jarro
ya sin fondo.
Repite y pon, camarón.
Arrímate a la orilla.
Huye del fondo,
Huye del jarro,
Huye del fuego.
Repite y pon, camarón.
Repite y pon, camarón.
Arde. Camarón sin jarro.
Arde. Jarro sin fondo.
Arde. Fuego sin orilla.
Repite y pon, camarón.
Repite y pon, camarón.
© Ernesto González, 2011
Friday, February 25, 2011
Thursday, February 24, 2011
Sunday, February 20, 2011
Saturday, February 19, 2011
Entrevista en MartiNoticias
Armando de Armas me entrevista para MartiNoticias.
"Los enemigos de la libertad han tenido cierto éxito en buscarse nuevas máscaras. Nos piden que seamos correctos, que midamos nuestras opiniones, que seamos cuidadosos; poco a poco nos van coartando las libertades."
Los invito:
http://www.martinoticias.com/noticias/entrevistas/Imagen-libertad-adearmas-116491318.html
Sunday, February 13, 2011
Sunday, February 6, 2011
Thursday, January 27, 2011
Thursday, January 20, 2011
Wednesday, January 19, 2011
Sunday, January 16, 2011
Saturday, January 15, 2011
Poem
Having understood the meaninglessness of meaning,
Having distilled all the half truths and the half lies,
Having observed the motion of nothingness,
Having depleted what was left after everything was taken away,
I no longer see the drowned faces, the eroded dreams.
I no longer hear the voice of summer, that boy that I was.
© Ernesto González, 2010
Having distilled all the half truths and the half lies,
Having observed the motion of nothingness,
Having depleted what was left after everything was taken away,
I no longer see the drowned faces, the eroded dreams.
I no longer hear the voice of summer, that boy that I was.
© Ernesto González, 2010
Saturday, January 8, 2011
Thursday, January 6, 2011
A portrait of these Cuban times
By Margaret Durán, Ph.D.
Habanera, a Portrait of a Cuba Family, is the second English-language novel penned by Teresa Dovalpage and published by Floricanto Press in December 2010. It is a soft, almost tender look at the challenges faced by today’s Cuban youth. Focused on the life of Longina, a naïve teenager (somewhat similar to the Lourdes of A Girl like Che Guevara) Habanera… deals, however, with different issues and a completely different time. Longina, unlike Lourdes, doesn’t want to emulate Che Guevara and politics doesn’t play a substantial role in her life.
The novel starts in the early 80’s and takes the reader to a guided tour of the brief “golden years” enjoyed under the Cuban socialist economy. During the mid 80’s, the steady (and costly) support of the former Soviet Union allowed Cubans to buy at non-rationed stores and provided them with the kind of abundance that had not been seen in the island since the pre-Castro era. Longina describes it:
A red curtain of wealth had fallen over the island. Soviet TV sets, German typewriters, Chinese blouses, Bulgarian perfumes, and Vietnamese sandals appeared in the stores that belonged to the so-called parallel market. Waiting lines were shorter there and clerks more courteous than in carded shops. We didn’t need coupons, though the parallel-market merchandise was quite expensive.
But such abundance is not destined to last. The “special period,” that begins shortly before the 90’s, puts an end to the parallel market and inflates waiting lines again. And yet, the first hints of the upcoming crisis are hardly noticed:
That night Ma mère turned on the radio to the Voice of America as a posthumous tribute to her father. The most important news was that Lithuania had declared its independence from Moscow. It had something to do with perestroika, I suspected. But none of us imagined the impact that the disintegration of the Soviet Union would have on Cuba, though we were 9550 kilometers away from it.
As the crisis deepens and the American dollar becomes king, Longina, like everybody else, suffers the inevitable consequences. The sheltered life she has enjoyed up to that moment becomes a thing of the past, like European perfumes and pretty sandals. A parallelism is established between the collapse of communism in Europe and the breakdown of her family life.
A particularly relevant chapter is the one devoted to La Lenin, an elite boarding school that Longina starts attending reluctantly. However, it will contribute to open her eyes to the changes that are taking place in her country and the world.
It was also at La Lenin where I heard, for the first time, unveiled criticism of the system and even of You-know-who. My classmates didn’t just whisper about “this.” They used familiarly the first names of our leaders, criticized them and discussed the possibility of a revolt in Cuba, an aftereffect of the movement that had changed the European map.
“Would Raúl order the troops to fire on the crowds as Ceausescu did in Romania?” Miroslava asked once.
“I don’t doubt it,” Lisaveta answered. “Raúl is a coward, always hiding behind his brother’s shadow.”
The heirs of the high-ranking Communist Party members have had the opportunity to travel abroad and see a different world. Many have witnessed the start of perestroika and look forward to a similar movement in Cuba. Young and passionate Lisaveta, the daughter of a Prensa Latina journalist, becomes involved with the opposition group Movimiento Cristiano de Liberación, led by Oswaldo Payá. Longina, however, does not participate actively in the political scene. “[Lisaveta] was a daughter of perestroika and I, a ‘special period’ girl,” she acknowledges.
The 1994 Rafting Crisis, that followed a rioting in the Cuban capital, puts Longina at the crossroads. She must decide between staying and “bringing perestroika to Cuba” and looking for a better life at the Miami shores. She finally makes a decision and the novels closes with a crowd of desperate balseros wafting away as they pray for the blessings of a protective Afro-Cuban deity, Yemayá.
This novel is a must read for those interested in today’s Cuban life. What you won’t find here, though, is the sordid portrayal of jineteras and chulos preying on guiltless foreigners, juicy sexual scenes or excrement-oozing depictions of Old Havana tenements. Prostitution shows its heavily made-up face in a few pages, but it is not a central topic of this fast-paced, well written and hope-inspiring novel.
Margaret Duran, Ph. D. is a retired literature and English professor who currently resides in Albuquerque, New Mexico.
The novel starts in the early 80’s and takes the reader to a guided tour of the brief “golden years” enjoyed under the Cuban socialist economy. During the mid 80’s, the steady (and costly) support of the former Soviet Union allowed Cubans to buy at non-rationed stores and provided them with the kind of abundance that had not been seen in the island since the pre-Castro era. Longina describes it:
A red curtain of wealth had fallen over the island. Soviet TV sets, German typewriters, Chinese blouses, Bulgarian perfumes, and Vietnamese sandals appeared in the stores that belonged to the so-called parallel market. Waiting lines were shorter there and clerks more courteous than in carded shops. We didn’t need coupons, though the parallel-market merchandise was quite expensive.
But such abundance is not destined to last. The “special period,” that begins shortly before the 90’s, puts an end to the parallel market and inflates waiting lines again. And yet, the first hints of the upcoming crisis are hardly noticed:
That night Ma mère turned on the radio to the Voice of America as a posthumous tribute to her father. The most important news was that Lithuania had declared its independence from Moscow. It had something to do with perestroika, I suspected. But none of us imagined the impact that the disintegration of the Soviet Union would have on Cuba, though we were 9550 kilometers away from it.
As the crisis deepens and the American dollar becomes king, Longina, like everybody else, suffers the inevitable consequences. The sheltered life she has enjoyed up to that moment becomes a thing of the past, like European perfumes and pretty sandals. A parallelism is established between the collapse of communism in Europe and the breakdown of her family life.
A particularly relevant chapter is the one devoted to La Lenin, an elite boarding school that Longina starts attending reluctantly. However, it will contribute to open her eyes to the changes that are taking place in her country and the world.
It was also at La Lenin where I heard, for the first time, unveiled criticism of the system and even of You-know-who. My classmates didn’t just whisper about “this.” They used familiarly the first names of our leaders, criticized them and discussed the possibility of a revolt in Cuba, an aftereffect of the movement that had changed the European map.
“Would Raúl order the troops to fire on the crowds as Ceausescu did in Romania?” Miroslava asked once.
“I don’t doubt it,” Lisaveta answered. “Raúl is a coward, always hiding behind his brother’s shadow.”
The heirs of the high-ranking Communist Party members have had the opportunity to travel abroad and see a different world. Many have witnessed the start of perestroika and look forward to a similar movement in Cuba. Young and passionate Lisaveta, the daughter of a Prensa Latina journalist, becomes involved with the opposition group Movimiento Cristiano de Liberación, led by Oswaldo Payá. Longina, however, does not participate actively in the political scene. “[Lisaveta] was a daughter of perestroika and I, a ‘special period’ girl,” she acknowledges.
The 1994 Rafting Crisis, that followed a rioting in the Cuban capital, puts Longina at the crossroads. She must decide between staying and “bringing perestroika to Cuba” and looking for a better life at the Miami shores. She finally makes a decision and the novels closes with a crowd of desperate balseros wafting away as they pray for the blessings of a protective Afro-Cuban deity, Yemayá.
This novel is a must read for those interested in today’s Cuban life. What you won’t find here, though, is the sordid portrayal of jineteras and chulos preying on guiltless foreigners, juicy sexual scenes or excrement-oozing depictions of Old Havana tenements. Prostitution shows its heavily made-up face in a few pages, but it is not a central topic of this fast-paced, well written and hope-inspiring novel.
Margaret Duran, Ph. D. is a retired literature and English professor who currently resides in Albuquerque, New Mexico.
Wednesday, December 29, 2010
Habanera, A Portrait of a Cuban Family, nuevo libro de Teresa Dovalpage
Los invito a ver el tráiler (el primero de NEO CLUB FILMS) del nuevo libro de Teresa Dovalpage: Habanera, A Portrait of a Cuban Familiy. El tráiler es el resultado de una colaboración entre Teresa y yo. Espero que les guste y que además compren la novela.
Tuesday, December 28, 2010
Lagarde se mueve (Updated)
Me entero en el propio blog de Lagarde (Cambios en Cuba) que su supuesta visita a Miami fue un simple chiste para el Día de los Inocentes. Iba a quitar el post, pero al releer el texto que le agregué a la foto, me di cuenta que mientras la visita nunca ocurrió, esas palabras siguen siendo ciertas.
Más aquí.
Este blog cumple 4
Ernesto’s Page cumple hoy cuatro años. Gracias a dios sigue siendo lo que siempre quise que fuera: pensamientos de un cerebro vacío en una estación estéril. Gracias a todos.
Is there anybody out there?
Monday, December 27, 2010
Sunday, December 26, 2010
De todas las noches posibles recuerdo una
De todas las noches posibles recuerdo una: aquella en el pueblo de campo. El quinqué en la noche y los sapos mirándome felices y devorando a los mosquitos. De todas las noches posibles recuerda ésa: en ese sitio donde fui un niño feliz echado a la sombra de una mata de mango o de guayaba (¿acaso importa?). Solo una felicidad es recreable: la de la infancia.
Desatiendo advertencias
Desatiendo advertencias.
No cuido mi salud.
Digo lo que siento.
Soy lo que soy.
Escribo.
No hago amigos por conveniencia.
Vivo en una ciudad de mediocres.
Vivo en una ciudad de gente con ínfulas.
Una aldea que reclama un título que le queda grande.
Voces que se escuchan a sí mismas.
Fantasmas de algo que pudo ser.
Vasos vacíos que pesan tanto.
Una ciudad en la que cualquier hijo
de vecino se siente merecedor de un Oscar,
un Nobel, un Emmy, o cualquiera de esos
nombres premios.
No voy a escribir con decencia.
Les advierto.
No creo en las buenas maneras.
Detesto las buenas costumbres.
No hago pactos.
No soy un tipo domesticable.
Hablo con mi voz,
escribo con mi tinta.
Aviso:
No acepto limosnas.
No las pido.
© Ernesto González, 2010
Friday, December 24, 2010
So This Is Christmas
Los dejo con la canción que cuelgo en cada navidad. El 2010 ha sido el peor y el mejor de los años para mí por varias razones. But I’m still standing and so is my blog. Un abrazo.
War is over if you want it.
Thursday, December 23, 2010
Poema
Desde la lluvia o el fuego,
a través de la tiniebla,
más allá de las puertas,
a través de los cristales,
encima de las rocas,
desde lo alto de un árbol moribundo,
en los pasillos desiertos de un templo en ruinas.
Nada me impide dormir en el río
si no voy contra la corriente.
Wednesday, December 22, 2010
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