PROFILE - For those wondering about the Festival (which will not speak here) sleep
If you click on my profile is almost obliterated. I'm never the one to be and I think that will always determine the margins of what I do. The perception is clear. Became acute in the Festival, the participation of the International Poetry Festival. I have one I have no ability to create socialization, my personality is emptied, absorbed by the writing, it stuck and now only need another thing. Whenever anything was needed. And I am one of those insignificant, of never amount to anything because it is out of everything. I can not go out looking for applause, I can not speak to those who should by the inability parochialism of shame or shyness that paralyzed forever, nor I have, at least not always, the humor and entertainment television it takes to get public support (the reader as public) or call the attention of the editors. If I look at the poetic Monsters involved these days of the event, yet, it does fascinate me, I feel even more my insignificance, my smallness, reinforced by that of a tiny body that stands just behind the microphones. Great, never interested me and I will be interested to reach the "big round thing" from ever becoming the Monster Borges. From the New, I have no capacity I have one contact and exchange-body and poetic-that know how to build as characters or mega stars of the show, so, or I'll never get the carnival of monsters that are cool or Wingston Frank Gonzalez Baez or Bex or Washington Cucurto Gabi. I'm just a beast, brute, savage, without a shred of civility, without the ability to generate leads, a beast that only something that the body meets demand, which appears as a point for download on the screen, the keyboard in the fingertips. Therefore, impossible to integrate, always away, away from everything and everyone and shame, deep, its triviality, its primitiveness. Unable, even ask interesting questions of its corpus vivo (Cucurto) by a kind of distance that I like to invent and maintain to say freely what I like what I read about him and who he is not conditional on any type of link to the Beast of writing. Maybe it's a beast of the group of greasers "as defined poetic and social category someone in one of the dinners, because you can not escape from a social class, being that the literature is and will remain just that: a mark of that is traversed in the experience (and to some extent this category also defines it as a new Victoria Ocampo, only now spectacularized). Maybe, being a local, places limits on the need to contact you being a foreigner means by itself. While it may not even be that it is as probable. Maybe it was what I. commented one of the filler to Rosario that had to be put and that there is nothing important or junk-it does what I say. I'm almost convinced of the latter. But anyway, the pattern that is easy to recognize and understand, there is nothing arbitrary, so food because it is what allows the beast to continue downloading it appears as a stitch, as in Rilke her solitude or Inchauspe self-destruction. And then, despite all, the Beast will remain strong and discharged on the screen, because you can not escape something that is in the body. There are no surgery.
