I just finish reading Neil Strauss "the game" penetrating the secrets of the pick up artist society.
I read it non stop in three days, it was an amazing and very informative reading. Half way throught the book i was convinced that i could become one of them ! :p. But now that i finish the book i just feel a nice and warmth peace inside myself and a greater understanding of love and of how lucky i am to have found my wife so early in my life.
I guess what everyone is looking for is reassurance, and marriage somehow means not having to re confirm desires, love, admiration, passion... which doesnt mean that hey are not there, they are just, different, deeper, so big that becomes hard to appretiate. !
So i really recommend the book !.
Bye ! Ivan,.
sábado, agosto 26, 2006
martes, agosto 15, 2006
lunes, agosto 14, 2006
jueves, agosto 10, 2006
Que quiere
Que quiere....?
Toda su vida lleno de inspiraciones, no quiere fracasar, no quiere repetir el camino que otros caminaron, no quiere ser olvidado, no quiere la soledad, la indiferencia, el desamor, la traicion...
Quiere un mundo mejor, quiere un familia, quiere un bmw, quiere un perro, quiere tocar guitarra, quiere su propia empresa, quiere ser un gran artista, un gran negociante, el mejor amante, un ejemplo de padre, un hijo respetuoso, un hombre responsable.
Cumplirle a sus amigos, a su tradicion, a sus raices, a todas las pequeñas promesas de infancia, a los juramentos, a sus compromisos morales, legales, espirituales.
Quiere acostarse con ella, con muchas otras, con esa secretaria que sonrie y nunca parece estar ocupada, con la actriz que mal actua, con la universitaria de camisa abierta, con la jefe, con la subordinada, la que dice desearlo en internet, la que lo detesta. Acostarse con todas.
Pero quiere ser fiel, y exige fidelidad, y exige amor, todos exigen amor. Quiere que le lleven el cafe a la cama, quiere amigos, quiere complices, quiere enemigos. Quiere sentir que es necesario, que es una ficha clave en el equipo, que Dios lo escucha, que ella lo escucha.
No quiere dar falsas opiniones , ni malos consejos, ni objeciones radicales, ni posiciones pretensiosas, ni estipulaciones en vano.
No quiere peder la inocencia que ya ha perdido, ni queria perder las partidas que perdio, ni decir las cosas que dijo.
Quiere perdonar y poder ser perdonado.
Pero quiere, sobre todas las cosas, dejar de ser tan sinceramente humano, porque humano es equivocarse y humanos son los sueños.
--- Ivan.
Toda su vida lleno de inspiraciones, no quiere fracasar, no quiere repetir el camino que otros caminaron, no quiere ser olvidado, no quiere la soledad, la indiferencia, el desamor, la traicion...
Quiere un mundo mejor, quiere un familia, quiere un bmw, quiere un perro, quiere tocar guitarra, quiere su propia empresa, quiere ser un gran artista, un gran negociante, el mejor amante, un ejemplo de padre, un hijo respetuoso, un hombre responsable.
Cumplirle a sus amigos, a su tradicion, a sus raices, a todas las pequeñas promesas de infancia, a los juramentos, a sus compromisos morales, legales, espirituales.
Quiere acostarse con ella, con muchas otras, con esa secretaria que sonrie y nunca parece estar ocupada, con la actriz que mal actua, con la universitaria de camisa abierta, con la jefe, con la subordinada, la que dice desearlo en internet, la que lo detesta. Acostarse con todas.
Pero quiere ser fiel, y exige fidelidad, y exige amor, todos exigen amor. Quiere que le lleven el cafe a la cama, quiere amigos, quiere complices, quiere enemigos. Quiere sentir que es necesario, que es una ficha clave en el equipo, que Dios lo escucha, que ella lo escucha.
No quiere dar falsas opiniones , ni malos consejos, ni objeciones radicales, ni posiciones pretensiosas, ni estipulaciones en vano.
No quiere peder la inocencia que ya ha perdido, ni queria perder las partidas que perdio, ni decir las cosas que dijo.
Quiere perdonar y poder ser perdonado.
Pero quiere, sobre todas las cosas, dejar de ser tan sinceramente humano, porque humano es equivocarse y humanos son los sueños.
--- Ivan.
lunes, agosto 07, 2006
The pidgeons and Rome
Streets of Melbourne, Tuesday 08/08/06
An old man came with a trolley full of bird food
A group was playing jazz 5 meters away
It was a sunny day in winter.
He threw the food and pidgeons came
and they fly... and they ate
it looked as if they were dancing.
and he watched, and they dance
It was beautiful, it was different
I spoke to him for 10 minutes
He was from Israel, his dad was french
We chat about the world,
we chan about pidgeons,
we chat about rome,
"there is a lot of pidgeons in Rome
, because of the pope", he said
We came to a conclusion
"is better to let the pidgeons be".
i told him: the pidgeons are dancing.
and he laugh, and his laugh was from his heart.
"arrivederci" he said,
He picked up his trolley
and he walked away,
The pidgeons stayed,
one day they will also go away.
To Rome.
--- Ivan.
****
Lo siento, pero intente traducirlo a español y simplemente no funciona.
Es acerca de un hombre Israeli en la calle alimentando a las palomas. Yo estaba sentado, matando tiempo, el me ayudo.
Ivan.
An old man came with a trolley full of bird food
A group was playing jazz 5 meters away
It was a sunny day in winter.
He threw the food and pidgeons came
and they fly... and they ate
it looked as if they were dancing.
and he watched, and they dance
It was beautiful, it was different
I spoke to him for 10 minutes
He was from Israel, his dad was french
We chat about the world,
we chan about pidgeons,
we chat about rome,
"there is a lot of pidgeons in Rome
, because of the pope", he said
We came to a conclusion
"is better to let the pidgeons be".
i told him: the pidgeons are dancing.
and he laugh, and his laugh was from his heart.
"arrivederci" he said,
He picked up his trolley
and he walked away,
The pidgeons stayed,
one day they will also go away.
To Rome.
--- Ivan.
****
Lo siento, pero intente traducirlo a español y simplemente no funciona.
Es acerca de un hombre Israeli en la calle alimentando a las palomas. Yo estaba sentado, matando tiempo, el me ayudo.
Ivan.
miércoles, agosto 02, 2006
Fidel Castro
Fidel, Siempre. Un mensaje de apoyo para todo el pueblo cubano y su lucha en estos tiempos de crisis.
Ivan.
----
"No albergo la menor duda de que nuestro pueblo y nuestra Revolución lucharán hasta la última gota de sangre para defender estas y otras ideas y medidas que sean necesarias para salvaguardar este proceso histórico.
El imperialismo jamás podrá aplastar a Cuba.
La Batalla de Ideas seguirá adelante.
¡Viva la Patria!
¡Viva la Revolución!
¡Viva el Socialismo!
¡Hasta la Victoria Siempre!"
Fidel Castro Ruiz
lunes, julio 31, 2006
Commercial life for the simple minded
Me levanto pensando si hoy ira a ser un dia diferente.
Olvide sacar la basura y la casa huele horrible.
Hace frio... Me gusta esta ciudad, la ciudad donde naci tambien es fria.
Soy el unico con la caneca de basura afuera, me pregunto porque. Me gusta dejar las cosas en donde estan mas de lo que deberia.
Mi esposa dice que soy un perezoso, que no me importa nada.
Esta equivocada, las cosas me importan mucho, o quiza es que me gusta la libertad, no se. Una excusa diferente para un dia diferente.
Nada nuevo, hubiera podido ser distinto, como, me gane un premio, o recibi la carta que he estado esperando toda mi vida... Pero no, son solo papeletas y promociones. Aunque, me gusta leerlas cuando voy en el tranvia.
Quizas hubiera podido ser que un loco estuviera en la calle, algo distinto, muy muy distinto, un hombre loco bailando y cantando flamenco
En fin, debo regresar a la casa, ya he cogido demasiadas gripas en mi vida, debe ser cronico.
Mi abuela siempre me da jugo de naranja cuando me enfermo, ... ojala tuviera naranjas aca.
Bueno, sera cafe. El cafe siempre funciona. Amo el cafe.
Ahi esta, mi mujer, tambien la amo. Y ahi esta el gato.
el gato solo obedece a mi mujer, en eso somos muy parecidos.
A las mujeres les gusta sentir que tienen poder incluso cuando saben que no lo tienen, por eso son tan lindas.
El tren se demora demasiado. Antes escribia en las estaciones, pero me he vuelto viejo, no me inspiro tan facilmente, siempre me distraigo.
Noticias de nuevo... Guerra. Tengo una teoria: Todos los problemas humanos son causados por amor. Gente que ama su pais, su religion, sus mujeres, su dinero, gente que ama el poder, gente que ama ser observada, o la seguridad, o el confort.
La vida es un asunto de Amor.... y de odio.
Antes trabajaba en un supermercado, Gente, Nececidades, Dinero.
Me gusta observar a las personas, cada uno se mueve de maneras diferentes, preguntan diferente. Hay personas hermosas, bravas, de afan, hay malos y hay buenos.
Si algun dia quiere saber que tipo de persona es, preguntele a un cajero...
Trabajo con un tipo de la china, me gusta bastante la comida china, a veces salimos y no entiendo un carajo. Yo solo como y observo. Son muy felices, realmente felices.
Alguna vez escuche que en chino se puede expresar todo con 4 palabras, que hay un proverbio para todas las cosas.
Me gusta uno que dice: "Cuatro Mares Como Casa", pero tambien hay unos muy dementes como "Pegarle al Perro con un Pedazo de Carne".
... Hay muchas cosas que no entiendo, pero de todas formas, que seria entender todo ?
Ademas hay cosas que nadie quiere entender, como, no se. Matematicas, o exnovias.
Me gusta cerrar la tienda por las noches y caminar en las calles desoladas, solo las maquinas automaticas regando el cesped, el ultimo tranvia de la noche pasa... y silencio.
La vida es tan sencilla.
.... Ella todavia esta ahi, cambio su estilo de cabello, creo que se ve mucho mejor...
El gato durmio con nosotros anoche, la cama esta llena de pelos, pero el gato es tierno, acostumbraba a grabarla cuando era pequeña. Creo que tiene amigos imaginarios, esta loca, como el tipo de la calle.
Un dia voy a encontrarme con el y le voy a agradecer por hacer mi vida diferente...
Me pregunto si en realidad existira ? en que trabaja ? como duerme ?
Ese tipo loco dentro de mi cabeza, el que me salva de ser como ellos... los ejecutivos.
Hago diseño, hago videos para que la gente se sienta feliz. O al menos es lo que intento.
No se imaginan que facil es hacer a los demas felices, o bueno, entretenerlos.
Ellos dicen: tienes talento, mi familia siempre decia eso: "el geniesito de la familia". Pero que, igual todos los papas dicen eso.
Me pregunto si yo le terminare diciendo eso a mis hijos, supongo que los hara felices...
A veces antes de acostarme me imagino si voy a ser un buen papa, mi esposa dice que no estoy preparado, yo le digo que nadie esta preparado para ser papa hasta que tiene un hijo, pero bueno, me imagino que ella tiene razon...
Todavia tengo muchas cosas que aprender.
Me gusta saber un poco de todo, pero cuando uno tiene muchas cosas pequeñas en la cabeza, uno empieza a crear conexiones donde no habia, mezcla las memorias, se vuelve un soñador, se enamora, pierde el hilo....
y entonces, a culpar a alguien... Al tipo loco dentro de mi cabeza.
Este domingo fuimos con mi mujer a la playa. Hacia mucho viento, pero era silencioso.
Le dije que la amaba, ella canto unas canciones en chino.
Sabe que el oceano me entristece. todavia no se porque.
Creo que es porque el mar es demasiado grande, demasiado azul, nunca cambia,
en fin, no importa.
Mañana sera un dia diferente.
------------------------------------------------
I wake up, thinking. Today is going to be a different day.
I forgot to take out the rubbish and the whole house smells like shit.
Is cold. I like this city; the place I was born is also cold.
I am the only one with the rubbish outside. I wonder why… I like to keep things longer than they should.
My wife says that I am lazy, that I don’t care about anything. I think she is wrong.
I care too much, or may be is that I like freedom. “A different day a different excuse.”
Nothing new, it could have been different, like, I won a prize, or I receive the letter I have been waiting all my life.
But no, is just junk mail. I like reading junk mail on the trains.
May be it could have been a crazy man on the street, something different, very different: A crazy man dancing and singing in Spanish.
I guess I will get back home. I have caught so many colds in my life. It must be chronic. My grand mother always gives me orange juice when I am sick. I wish I had some oranges.
I guess I will get back home. I have caught so many colds in my life. It must be chronic. My grand mother always gives me orange juice when I am sick. I wish I had some oranges.
Coffee will do, Coffee always do. I love coffee.
There she is, my wife. I love her. And there is the Cat. The cat only obeys her; we are similar in that aspect.
Women like to feel that they have power, even when they know they don’t. That’s why they are cute.
The tram takes so long to work. I used to write a lot on the tram, but I grew old, inspiration doesn’t come to me that easy. I get distracted.
News again. I have a theory: All human problems are because of love: War, people who love their country, their religion, their money, their women. People that love power; people who love to be watched, or love comfort, or security. Life is a matter of love. And hate.*
I used to work on a supermarket, People, Needs and Money. I like watching people. Everyone moves on a different way, ask for the same item different.
There is beautiful people, angry people, bad people, and busy people…
If you want to know what kind of person you are, ask a cashier.
I work with a Chinese guy. I like Chinese food. Sometimes we go out and I don’t understand a thing.
I eat, and watch. They are happy, they are really happy.
I head that in Chinese you can express everything with 4 words, that there is a proverb for everything.
I like the one “four seas as my home”, but there are crazy ones like “: to hit a dog with a meat-bun.”
There are so many things I don’t understand.
But, what would it be to understand everything anyway?
There are things we really don’t want to understand, like. I don’t know: Mathematics, or Ex-girlfriends.
I like closing the shop at night, and walking the streets, empty, automatic machines watering the gardens, the last tram passes.
And silence.
Life is so simple.
She is still there, changed her hair. I think she looks better. Last night the cat slept with us.
The bed is full of hair. But is a cute cat. I used to tape her when she was young.
She has imaginary friends; she is a crazy cat, like the man on the street.
One day I will meet that guy, and thank him, for making my life different.
I wonder if he exists. What is his job, how does he sleep?
The crazy man inside your head saves you from being like them, executives.
I do design, I make videos to make people happier, you won’t believe how easy is to make people happy, or at least, to entertain them.
They said that I got talent, that I got inspiration. My family always said that. “You are my little genius”. But all parents said that.
I wonder if I will say that to my kid. I guess. They will be happy to hear it.
Sometimes before sleep, I wonder if I will be a good dad. My wife says that I am not ready yet.
I keep telling her that no one is ready to be a dad until they actually become dads.
But I guess she is right. I still have so many things to learn.
I like to know a little about everything.
But when you know too many little things, you create connections where there were none. You mix memories. You turn into a dreamer. You fall in love. You lose the track.
Then? Blame someone else. Blame the crazy man inside your head.*
We went to the beach on Sunday. It was windy, and quiet.
I told her that I love her. And she sang for me.
She knows that the sea makes me feel sad, lonely. I still don’t know why.
I guess is because the sea is too big, too blue. It never changes.
Well, it doesn’t really matter.
Tomorrow will be a different day.
Olvide sacar la basura y la casa huele horrible.
Hace frio... Me gusta esta ciudad, la ciudad donde naci tambien es fria.
Soy el unico con la caneca de basura afuera, me pregunto porque. Me gusta dejar las cosas en donde estan mas de lo que deberia.
Mi esposa dice que soy un perezoso, que no me importa nada.
Esta equivocada, las cosas me importan mucho, o quiza es que me gusta la libertad, no se. Una excusa diferente para un dia diferente.
Nada nuevo, hubiera podido ser distinto, como, me gane un premio, o recibi la carta que he estado esperando toda mi vida... Pero no, son solo papeletas y promociones. Aunque, me gusta leerlas cuando voy en el tranvia.
Quizas hubiera podido ser que un loco estuviera en la calle, algo distinto, muy muy distinto, un hombre loco bailando y cantando flamenco
En fin, debo regresar a la casa, ya he cogido demasiadas gripas en mi vida, debe ser cronico.
Mi abuela siempre me da jugo de naranja cuando me enfermo, ... ojala tuviera naranjas aca.
Bueno, sera cafe. El cafe siempre funciona. Amo el cafe.
Ahi esta, mi mujer, tambien la amo. Y ahi esta el gato.
el gato solo obedece a mi mujer, en eso somos muy parecidos.
A las mujeres les gusta sentir que tienen poder incluso cuando saben que no lo tienen, por eso son tan lindas.
El tren se demora demasiado. Antes escribia en las estaciones, pero me he vuelto viejo, no me inspiro tan facilmente, siempre me distraigo.
Noticias de nuevo... Guerra. Tengo una teoria: Todos los problemas humanos son causados por amor. Gente que ama su pais, su religion, sus mujeres, su dinero, gente que ama el poder, gente que ama ser observada, o la seguridad, o el confort.
La vida es un asunto de Amor.... y de odio.
Antes trabajaba en un supermercado, Gente, Nececidades, Dinero.
Me gusta observar a las personas, cada uno se mueve de maneras diferentes, preguntan diferente. Hay personas hermosas, bravas, de afan, hay malos y hay buenos.
Si algun dia quiere saber que tipo de persona es, preguntele a un cajero...
Trabajo con un tipo de la china, me gusta bastante la comida china, a veces salimos y no entiendo un carajo. Yo solo como y observo. Son muy felices, realmente felices.
Alguna vez escuche que en chino se puede expresar todo con 4 palabras, que hay un proverbio para todas las cosas.
Me gusta uno que dice: "Cuatro Mares Como Casa", pero tambien hay unos muy dementes como "Pegarle al Perro con un Pedazo de Carne".
... Hay muchas cosas que no entiendo, pero de todas formas, que seria entender todo ?
Ademas hay cosas que nadie quiere entender, como, no se. Matematicas, o exnovias.
Me gusta cerrar la tienda por las noches y caminar en las calles desoladas, solo las maquinas automaticas regando el cesped, el ultimo tranvia de la noche pasa... y silencio.
La vida es tan sencilla.
.... Ella todavia esta ahi, cambio su estilo de cabello, creo que se ve mucho mejor...
El gato durmio con nosotros anoche, la cama esta llena de pelos, pero el gato es tierno, acostumbraba a grabarla cuando era pequeña. Creo que tiene amigos imaginarios, esta loca, como el tipo de la calle.
Un dia voy a encontrarme con el y le voy a agradecer por hacer mi vida diferente...
Me pregunto si en realidad existira ? en que trabaja ? como duerme ?
Ese tipo loco dentro de mi cabeza, el que me salva de ser como ellos... los ejecutivos.
Hago diseño, hago videos para que la gente se sienta feliz. O al menos es lo que intento.
No se imaginan que facil es hacer a los demas felices, o bueno, entretenerlos.
Ellos dicen: tienes talento, mi familia siempre decia eso: "el geniesito de la familia". Pero que, igual todos los papas dicen eso.
Me pregunto si yo le terminare diciendo eso a mis hijos, supongo que los hara felices...
A veces antes de acostarme me imagino si voy a ser un buen papa, mi esposa dice que no estoy preparado, yo le digo que nadie esta preparado para ser papa hasta que tiene un hijo, pero bueno, me imagino que ella tiene razon...
Todavia tengo muchas cosas que aprender.
Me gusta saber un poco de todo, pero cuando uno tiene muchas cosas pequeñas en la cabeza, uno empieza a crear conexiones donde no habia, mezcla las memorias, se vuelve un soñador, se enamora, pierde el hilo....
y entonces, a culpar a alguien... Al tipo loco dentro de mi cabeza.
Este domingo fuimos con mi mujer a la playa. Hacia mucho viento, pero era silencioso.
Le dije que la amaba, ella canto unas canciones en chino.
Sabe que el oceano me entristece. todavia no se porque.
Creo que es porque el mar es demasiado grande, demasiado azul, nunca cambia,
en fin, no importa.
Mañana sera un dia diferente.
------------------------------------------------
I wake up, thinking. Today is going to be a different day.
I forgot to take out the rubbish and the whole house smells like shit.
Is cold. I like this city; the place I was born is also cold.
I am the only one with the rubbish outside. I wonder why… I like to keep things longer than they should.
My wife says that I am lazy, that I don’t care about anything. I think she is wrong.
I care too much, or may be is that I like freedom. “A different day a different excuse.”
Nothing new, it could have been different, like, I won a prize, or I receive the letter I have been waiting all my life.
But no, is just junk mail. I like reading junk mail on the trains.
May be it could have been a crazy man on the street, something different, very different: A crazy man dancing and singing in Spanish.
I guess I will get back home. I have caught so many colds in my life. It must be chronic. My grand mother always gives me orange juice when I am sick. I wish I had some oranges.
I guess I will get back home. I have caught so many colds in my life. It must be chronic. My grand mother always gives me orange juice when I am sick. I wish I had some oranges.
Coffee will do, Coffee always do. I love coffee.
There she is, my wife. I love her. And there is the Cat. The cat only obeys her; we are similar in that aspect.
Women like to feel that they have power, even when they know they don’t. That’s why they are cute.
The tram takes so long to work. I used to write a lot on the tram, but I grew old, inspiration doesn’t come to me that easy. I get distracted.
News again. I have a theory: All human problems are because of love: War, people who love their country, their religion, their money, their women. People that love power; people who love to be watched, or love comfort, or security. Life is a matter of love. And hate.*
I used to work on a supermarket, People, Needs and Money. I like watching people. Everyone moves on a different way, ask for the same item different.
There is beautiful people, angry people, bad people, and busy people…
If you want to know what kind of person you are, ask a cashier.
I work with a Chinese guy. I like Chinese food. Sometimes we go out and I don’t understand a thing.
I eat, and watch. They are happy, they are really happy.
I head that in Chinese you can express everything with 4 words, that there is a proverb for everything.
I like the one “four seas as my home”, but there are crazy ones like “: to hit a dog with a meat-bun.”
There are so many things I don’t understand.
But, what would it be to understand everything anyway?
There are things we really don’t want to understand, like. I don’t know: Mathematics, or Ex-girlfriends.
I like closing the shop at night, and walking the streets, empty, automatic machines watering the gardens, the last tram passes.
And silence.
Life is so simple.
She is still there, changed her hair. I think she looks better. Last night the cat slept with us.
The bed is full of hair. But is a cute cat. I used to tape her when she was young.
She has imaginary friends; she is a crazy cat, like the man on the street.
One day I will meet that guy, and thank him, for making my life different.
I wonder if he exists. What is his job, how does he sleep?
The crazy man inside your head saves you from being like them, executives.
I do design, I make videos to make people happier, you won’t believe how easy is to make people happy, or at least, to entertain them.
They said that I got talent, that I got inspiration. My family always said that. “You are my little genius”. But all parents said that.
I wonder if I will say that to my kid. I guess. They will be happy to hear it.
Sometimes before sleep, I wonder if I will be a good dad. My wife says that I am not ready yet.
I keep telling her that no one is ready to be a dad until they actually become dads.
But I guess she is right. I still have so many things to learn.
I like to know a little about everything.
But when you know too many little things, you create connections where there were none. You mix memories. You turn into a dreamer. You fall in love. You lose the track.
Then? Blame someone else. Blame the crazy man inside your head.*
We went to the beach on Sunday. It was windy, and quiet.
I told her that I love her. And she sang for me.
She knows that the sea makes me feel sad, lonely. I still don’t know why.
I guess is because the sea is too big, too blue. It never changes.
Well, it doesn’t really matter.
Tomorrow will be a different day.
miércoles, julio 12, 2006
For your neighborhood.
For your neighborhood.
I stop being a hero,
they like it when you are a peasant,
I said hi to the elders, I loved them
even they didn't teach me anything
even they were crazy, (or so was believed)
even I can't recall their faces
We wore uniforms
and we all looked like an ants
we were "the youth", we were the future
they listen our performances
there were claps, and tears
we couldn't see behind
for my neighborhood,
I closed my eyes
and it wasnt dark
until I open them.
Un abrazo, Ivan
I stop being a hero,
they like it when you are a peasant,
I said hi to the elders, I loved them
even they didn't teach me anything
even they were crazy, (or so was believed)
even I can't recall their faces
We wore uniforms
and we all looked like an ants
we were "the youth", we were the future
they listen our performances
there were claps, and tears
we couldn't see behind
for my neighborhood,
I closed my eyes
and it wasnt dark
until I open them.
Un abrazo, Ivan
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