Photo Gallery by Marcel Alvear
The Rock, by Marcel Alvear
Julián was walking down a street in his neighborhood when he saw a very nice little house for sale: he thought, “How nice that little house would be for Marta and me; we would live there happily with our future little son”. But Julián was poor; he had only a few coins and used them to buy the newspaper and look for work. There was an ad: “People wanted to push rock.” He went and talked to the foreman, who told him: “There are already 200 men pushing; the President of the Republic wants 201; patriots, Christians, honest, and macho...” – “For I love my Fatherland, Christ is my Master, I am blameless. and I have my big scrotum covered with abundant fur.” - “Then join the force!” Julián rolled up his sleeves and pushed and pushed along with the others; he was happy. At the end of the day he was paid with a handsome bill. With this salary he could buy a house and marry Marta. But after a few days he asked his superior, “When I push the rubble, sometimes I hear screams.... Where do they come from?” – “From people being crushed.” – “I don’t understand...” – “The rock crushes foreigners, atheists, idlers and faggots. That's the job we were given to do. Any objections?! See that I can replace you... There are many who are looking for work!” – “No... No... I always obey; but Christ taught us that we must respect our neighbor...” – “Are you Catholic?” – “Yes sir.” – “Well, if it bothers you to do your duty, go and confess.” On Sunday Julián went to the chapel and went to confession; now he could just go to Heaven. After a while he got married, bought a house, had a child, a car, a plasma TV, and a gas grill – the kind that makes a crackling sound when the sausages are cooked. Forty-five years went by: he had gone to confession 2563 times, prayed 25,000 Hail Marys and 30,000 Glorias, and was always absolved by the priest. At the age of 65, Julián retired: that same night there was a loud knock at the door. They were people in uniform. “Julián Gomez?” – “That’s right...” said Julián in his pajamas, somewhat incredulous. They put him in a car and took him away. They threw him handcuffed on a road along with others. “What the fuck is going on!” he asked dumbfounded. “You're a useless unproductive bum!” – “But I'm retired!” – “Excuses and more excuses!” – In the morning Julián felt the ground shaking: lifting his head, he could see a large rock looming behind the horizon.
Drawings by Marcel Alvear
Essays by Marcel Alvear
Essay: The Rift, by Marcel Alvear
These lines will touch upon a subject other than the “zone”.
I will briefly mention the disconnection that may happen between (former) significant ones because of ideologies or differences in values, as a way to share with you guys, if you’ve ever had similar experiences (I think you Bob can relate, and most probably Carol too).
“Case 1”: My (ex) friend from New York, Alberto, has ideas opposite to mine. He thinks the actual Government in Argentina is good, and made a bunch of comments which to my way of perceiving are mistaken. He lives 10,000 km away from here, he doesn't see the consequences of this pro-Trump, pro-military, pro-Margaret Thatcher (etc) right-wing imbecile, who now is making deals with BlackRock people and thousands of other similar things. I can’t relate to these kinds of minds. A friendship that originated in ’72 is just about to end. I even suspect that Alberto supported the Argentine military ’70s coup. I can’t deal with that. He would be the third/fourth person, with many years of friendship, that I will disconnect with. It is sad. But I would be a hypocrite if I were to ignore their minds and way of thinking. And I can’t help it.
I felt the same (for other reasons, but having to do with values and ethics) toward Patricio, a 40 year-long friendship (!); my cousins Daniel and Andre – we grew up together; and Pablo, the fellow that I knew in the Catholic community ten years ago – with whom I had plenty of points in common. But for one reason or another, shit happened, and they vanished from my mind, leaving a foggy sadness. It is difficult because I do have with these people some deep connections and similar/identical feelings about certain subjects and experiences, so it is a very ambivalent happening.
I think of the times I spent with certain folks (other than those mentioned, just acquaintances), people that now I perceive as empty, mistaken, with wrong values, even stupid – as I was myself very stupid, now and then (sounds pedantic of me, but we all have our values – and I have mine); I look back, and it is as if sometimes I was alone, talking to a wall. Why on Earth did I even engage with certain people in such meaningless chats/arguments!
What I can recover from that is the human experience, as Schopenhauer said in a quote (this is all I know of him...): “When you come across people that are of no value to you, see nevertheless the encounter as an enriching experience by knowing better what humans are all about.” [This is perhaps paraphrasing.] In other words, La Comédie Humaine... Of course, others will see ME as I see THEM... I am no Messiah standing for the absolute truth... Who is right? Who is wrong?
(Good to know that some are left in the field with whom I can play soccer... ⚽)
Anywhos, it is a beautiful, cloudy day, with a possible rain coming soon.
Last night I video-recorded my melody “Rain” while it was raining, with some thunder, but it didn’t come out too well... The thunder sounds like someone is moving furniture around... And speaking of which, yesterday going back to my pad I saw a bright flash followed by the sound of a huge 💥. That was close. The forces of Nature...
I’m going to take a walk, have some café in one of my kahvilat, and keep translating “The Cake” 🎂.
You guys take care. Breathe each moment.
Café and rain; what else do you need to write poetry...
Drawing Videos by Marcel Alvear
