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Esta rebelión es un gas por el que cruzamos.

Imagino a dios celoso y loco, auroleado en luz diurna de neón. Just can not believe that his people, ants, have been connected with him through the Sabbath. He had been exposed as a result of magical harmony that existed between his dream and their worship. He could not accept that they were so connected and so did that were disconnected. The man was condemned to wander the earth as hordes of lepers phones.

Several nights after filing the teeth of my favorite dog I noticed that the atmosphere around me changed. I addiction to almond paste and paregoric. It seemed that I identified with everything. I was odorless battery plates freshly baked, stone oven cold. It was impossible to work. Roll the coils was worse. They went to live in my hand. The always charming and moving statues in the smoke billowed. The newly shaped jacket waved his wrists and hips I could see him doing circles under her girdle sweetly soft wet clay.

Love is a vampire. The facts dead. Energy is not dead. He captured the girls here in my dreams. The girls are left to their own whims. A free society observed on libido, brass plated picture with the collapse of pure democracy. In the confines of modern strength he plans to build the tiny female state as a sociologist of ants / bees.

The skies were still and cold. My teeth chattered and he was wet with sweat. Was breaking. I was fine. I stretched out on the red skin and used the pulp as a pillow, he had no memory requirement. The stars were orbits donuts militants. The field was patched with landmines and slices of bread. I broke one. His insides were white, fleshy and seeds of a variegated and deep purple. Insects shining hard and cracking under the pressure of the big toe of my foot. I ate meat cloud. I was filled, swells and joined me. I ended up crashing. Rain defused mines. I covered my head and ran free until a tree-shaped wigwam. I shook the hair out of habit. I was surprised to discover that it was gone.

Contemplation, peace in the eyes of an animal. Light pink surrounding the cold structure of egg and small freshwater fish by the guerrillas cosmic.

The feeling of freezing, drooling, northern lights shooting through my feet, a hug from heat, light and gas, steel ice.

Love was to strike. We did not attempt to put our energies into what is mutual. For a while rockets launched from phone boxes. Shooting and separated, same time same sky.

As for my own eyes, I can barely focus on anything. As the lizard, I am overwhelmed by the stigma of two ways of looking. God, I'm destroyed. I'm really tired. I look to the left eye. Here I am a victim girl praying at her enthusiasm. Here's discretion and compassion. On the plane of the right is a blue and voluminous burning with the rush of a frontal attack immediately. I hate all weak. I am the military. I'm the black poet Cell fasting and laughing. No danger of that I hang here. It is well known that my handkerchief is reserved as a suit of vanity.

movies in the files forbidden there is a mechanism that can mix memory with light and produce a sound image of any that exist in grace in the movie. There is another. The realm of celluloid is common for the whore and the scientist. Sit back and buckle up. Crown and squeeze your palms against the metal walls of a nuclear submarine cream.

Everything is sinking in the high sea. Filth and algae. The quivering nostrils of plant life. She begins her dance to the landfill and across the elongated puddles. Her feet are rubbing on bone open game. A van turns a bell in the garden. His miraculous ballet. The elevation on his face. Each phase of our being is embodied in their fabulous useless movements.

The argument of our life sweats in the dark like a face. The mystery of the birth explosion. From childhood itself. Excursions to tombs. Offers peaceful. What do we call? Why must we pray screaming? Why not redefine death? We close our eyes stretch their arms and turn on a glass swirling.

I have quickly

not connect

'm on arrival

'm finishing

I approach the microphone

I have no fear

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I'm not a drunk, but I know he is a drunk as wine and I tried drunk. I do not want people to drink wine and be delivered to seances it is bad for health. I am a man in good health but I am thin because not as much. As God directs me.

I do not like fun. Understand what is joy. I'm not happy because I know that joy is death. Joy is the death of reason. I have a fear of death, so I love life.

I describe my goings with prostitutes. I was very young, so it was nonsense. All young people do silly things. I lost my balance and went through the streets Paris in search of prostitutes. Lust is the death of life. A man prey to lust like a beast.

I do not care where I live. I live where God wants. Travel life if God so desires. Christ drew a clean-shaven, with long hair. I look like him, only his eye is quiet and my jumps everywhere. I am a man jumping, not a man sitting.

I'll talk about Nietzsche and Darwin because they are men they thought. Darwin, like Nietzsche, descended from the ape. Mimic those already invented something. Believe who discovered America. I call America to find a man repeat something that was said. Darwin was not the first to invent the monkey. The ape descended from the ape and monkey down from God. I feel well, because I understand everything I write. I am a man of God and not the monkey. Mono if I am, if I feel I am God. I know that many people feel delighted with my reasoning and I feel happy, it would have achieved my purpose. Dance for money.

I am Buddha. I am a Buddhist God and all forms of God. I know everybody. I know everything. Pretend to be crazy to achieve my goals. I know that if everyone thinks I'm a crazy harmless, will not be afraid of me. I do not like people who think I'm a fool that can make people ill. I am a fool who loves people. My madness is love for humanity.

am God. I am everything. I am the life. I am the Infinite. I will always be everywhere. They can kill me, but I live for it. I want infinite life. I do not want death. Write about death, so that people understand their mistakes and correct them. I have also faults. I am not an actor. I am a man with faults.

I want peace for everyone. I love over the globe. Men do not think of the stars, so do not understand the world. I often think of the stars, so I know what I am. I like astronomy, because astronomy gives us no idea of \u200b\u200bGod. Astronomy wants to teach the geography of the stars. I do not like geography. I do not like the borders of the States, because I understand that the Earth is a single state. Earth is God's head. God is the fire in the head. My pulse is an earthquake.

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On Thursday September 29th, our school friends gave us a microscope where we saw some samples of plant and animal cell, was a fun day.
Beatriz Rivera

Merlo.

microscope

Nero Vision . Wikipedia

Living Things. Diagrams and concept maps. Natural numbers

These are some of the schemes undertaken by students from 5 º C to study the issue 1 Environmental Awareness. Will suit you to review.

01Cono - Living Things

Serviette Folding Instruction

Nijinsky

Mole That Hurts On Touch

ORAL NARRATIVES

Miguel Marinas

Exordio

 Narrativas hace referencia al verbo latino narro , que tiene que ver con el saber (quienes no lo tienen, son ignari , ignaros, sin argumento)

Fuentes:

A, Lucas, 1,1: en la Vulgata:

quoniam quidem multi conati sunt ordinare narrationem quæ in nobis completæ sunt rerum

( Many have tried to recount the events orderly met us)

Narration involves relatively orderly, bring order to the diegesis, in the flow of events.

B, Psalm 19, 2:

Coeli enarrant glory Dei

The heavens proclaim the glory of God,

The heavens declare the glory of God

and the firmament proclaims his handiwork;

19: 3 A day passed this message to other

and nights are giving the news.

19: 4 Without speaking, without words,

without hearing your voice, ;

19: 5 resonates echoed throughout the land

and language, to the ends of the world

So also tell proclamation, underscore, in song, is the expressiveness of a story with a plural subject (heaven) day after day, night and another, without words, without a voice, but with echo, but with language that reaches far

tell Because

and say more than words, there is a will to communicate, to share what they struggle to say, what to say but not knowing how, although not quite know who.

And previously, there is a willingness to listen. In my book listening oral history (Summary, 2008), left word that is listening to the beginning of the story. One looks for an audience. A listener is sometimes where they thought.

is sort Narrating experiences and ways of knowing that they are based, but not exhausted.

the same way that the story has basins, lasts, established rules, mandatory, but always overflows its willingness to build to put words to what we know, what we discover, what is not.

Oral

Stories coming out of the mouth, ranging from mouth to mouth, which is in the foreground the throat, tongue, lips , teeth, saliva and breath. It is the exercise of a pleasure: the pleasure of slitting up to the elbows, not silenced or under water, to crack without stopping.

It's like opera. In Wagner Parsifal, one for four hours is the joy of breath, the taste of words, without knowing German, and even in Italian opera, which seems to be language nearest (the win) is perceived taste of what Barthes called it grain of voix (which we, Latin Americans, say the voice metals) grain or metal, is a surface that is altered, like a cloth soft (vocal cords) and pass, they vibrate the air to the resonators, nose, forehead. The human voice. Orality, a libidinal point in our constitution and it is a place of otherness in the present (the voice and look, we know, as primary objects)

I started pulling the thread of memory, the letter of the signifier narratio (which I know from my longevity and my Catholic culture Source: now - removed the theocracy, or nearly so, may become more freely to all kinds of texts) - and I've been snuggling ritual texts. Jean Pierre Vernant What word is called vertical. Which is addressed to the deity. But right now I just get off the floor to the ground, the circuit of listening and verbosity.

oral stories are exercises to give the sinhueso, Radio Bemba, blablabla endless.

oral narratives are attempts to make known saying in the mouth. That body, again Barthes in his utopia in love, eventually to be used to speak and kissing. The two things at once. But postponing the utopias (pun intended).

Introit

The speaker should be able to tell the whole story, which begins with a train at night, the speaker believes that do not know if you remember or invent, or average. This journey took him from his hometown (which is not: neither is home, is a public garden) to what is now often said that is his hometown, say appointing himself as "of such a site but traveled ", because to get there a trip you can not count (four old were you) you know who lived and can come back and can not return to it. Remembers well those same dates a laying of a train with wires and sticks he made with his father in a small field near the house, did a full tour, with room for the tracks, but with wires and sticks to mimic the catenary, poles, was fascinated and then it rained and it was almost all fallen and was seriously do not hurt or sad, seriously.

But the trip does not return. It's done. And placed the narrated on the condition of migrants. But before even knowing it. Nomadic or displaced. Not so much for him (four years), but effectively by intensive a story without words, we are not here. We are from another site.

Where

. Always where. Because when we come to the site of their birth parents and is now recovering, the speaker knows it's not your site. And then, when migrating from the provincial town to the capital, all for a few years would be the thing (so far), it increases the internal narrative that says we are not here. I'm not from here. Where.

as singing in a foreign land? (the songs of Zion), says another Psalm (which later led) How you want me to sing / if I am on foreign soil (That was the version of the grandmother, illiterate, not as narrator and grandfather who was a parlapuñaos. But he gave the note and the gift of nomadic condition narrates.

Anyone who tells does from a moving train. Since the fatal night trains and Jorge Semprun ( The Long Journey, 1953), a Closely Watched Trains. Whoever narrates it does in motion. Exterior and interior.

is to narrate word (who says he knows) in time. In a split time. That is his main concept and the source of his metaphors.

a. open time of fiction (like a river)

b. At the time of recurrence, the moment of the scene (as a stay).

Behind the names are bigger than ever explained: progress time and time consumption, or history of the moment. So we are divided as narrators.

Heraclitus gives us an image that meets:

waters are always new / to who gets your foot in the same river

(fragment 12)

That's the stress and strain to say (as the fight between Jacob and the angel is the battle for the blessing, finished the fight says not let you go without me say a word to bless me, that makes me safe, that means the story).

taut say I know that threads the scenes for others including myself, who narrates the first recipient of what he says (this is the first discovery of the life histories). Perhaps the word, and hear that is common to the story, the essay and poem. It is true that are distinguished as genera, and Gamoneda says that poetry - that brings the impossible to land - Has nothing to do with literature. Perhaps the story, the knowledge that is articulated in the voice, either (not even the most basic level - how Barthes voice, when writing mimics the talk. Even. Here I am talking about the voice, the word in every form, try to always say, knowing that his career is impossible to say something.

We thus, a stage and a river.

The ambiguous repetition

In the story there is an experience primal repetition. Almost we can define a story as what you can start again.

The experience of telling stories to children is proven. Repeat the ritual should not miss anything in the letter. Failing to cause disturbances, anguish, frustration.

The story contains, but not so monolithic, it contains the way of identification with the time it is offered. Benjamin says: listening to a story of experience, can replicate with their own history, the story folds listening to develop their own experience. Without trial, without being condemned as happens - says Barthes in love with speech fragments - arrogant discourses: science, politics, public opinion.

The story opens a suspended while the linearity of time course of civic history, as they say. From what goes before and then continues and concludes. The story contains as a ritornello, as saying.

As in the Italian popular song

was a volta a re

seduced sul sofa

Che disse sua serva the

Raccontami a storia

E

the servo incomincio:

was a volta a re

seduced sul sofa

Che disse to sua serva ...

Once there was a king

Sitting on his couch

What he said to his slave

Relátame story

And the slave

began:

Once there was a king

Sitting on his couch

In which collects and summarizes the story as much as and the saga of the Thousand and One Nights. And no one knows who is speaking if the king or Scheherazade, or who has the relationship between them or any of us when we listen.

The game, the radical ambivalence of the narrative. As in the Majorcan stories that caught the attention of Roman Jakobson: Aixó was i was not

That was and was not

was and was not , once upon a time there was

What a curious ambiguity, the vagueness of the beginning. Seems to ask permission to take the listener to another place, but not so different, new, but perhaps a little known. The story opens plausible. As a condition of truth. Fiction as a condition to tell even the horror (Esther Cohen, The narrators of Auschwitz), even some of the witnesses (Kertesz, I think) bear this out. Necessary to enter at that time, in that fiction to get used to his truth, the truth is not trite, banal positive description of the so-called facts.

The logotesis, in the invention of worlds with the story (Sade, Fourier, Loyola), construction of texts to live in, it starts with a door with a threshold that separates and that opens.

why there are all the formulas encantatorias to start talking. To begin to narrate, which is an operation that opens a time slot. It's like the beginning of the interview, the story of life, or the discussion group. Always see a formula ("good, well ... · "well, it seems that my turn to break the ice," "think I hurt my open fire," "good, because before I would say something about ...") to authorize the time ENTAM story.

The tense of the story is imperfect. "This was a king who had / a palace of brilliant ..." is the "now was I and was the pirate, now you were you and you were the princess, our children's fiction, ritualized. Constituted as proper times, shut down, which will begin again.

Imperfect is sometimes replaced for the present, present continuous value at the time of the story itself.

"Going up from Santa Cruz, the Brotava (Orotava) there are some streets, narrow, near a printing press, there I am, I am born there

( Robles Luisito Story of a migrant canary,).

Once upon a time and teaches us to have the English language. Escandon a time through the plains of time.

and if the walls feigns sleep

in plain time

time makes you think

that comes in time.

Lorca says the time Legend relatively minor, apparently hidden in a prologuito recited by Harlequin, in this play: So spend five years .

copies Stories

José Jiménez Lozano, Castilla natural storyteller he was kind, haughty, and good-humored, to call his book The Great Stories . Is smaller stories and thorough, more restricted environment, nearly collected, which could imagine. The characters are loved by people in times of civic modernization, the book itself has - if unintentionally not contradict the diagnosis of Jean-François Lyotard - remember, in this modern age that characterized the so-called postmodern, as the crisis of the great stories. Indeed, in The postmodern condition , Said that those stories are gone generally covered by our sayings, and that allowed us to have a sense of the world in place. From a time whose beginning we do not know of any code (the seventies in its effects, its causes thirty) occurs desguavinado that gait, as they say in Cuba, without clove stories as they break down the fans.

Stories arrogant - again Barthes - are its apparent voyage, undisturbed, tricky, robbers of all foreign languages. But in the so-called everyday life worlds, each narrative produces a small-scale, temporary, rickety. Almost embarrassing. And then amid the malaise, the lack of legitimating narratives general and stable value, everyone feels the need to have your life.

begins what I have called the symptom Santamarina and biographical.

In no place in public discourse, general, each has much to say for him. Although nothing more is by putting some order and meaning.

So begins a few stories of life: "And one says:" As you may have done one of those things, "And think of one: how to say such a thing happened to me, will you be crazy? ".

is the mystery of the narrator. The objectification of his own voice. It is necessary, it is imperative that I start to tell my thing, but when my voice goes, to quote Homer, our patron blind, "the fence of the teeth," the note as strange as somewhat alien. It makes sense dictates that where there is not, but I felt trapped, I enclosed. The closing of the story is my prison. Walls need not to be outdoors but I can not leave them. Is the distance between saying and said that it seizes

is the distance between saying, tensing my vocal cords, resonance of the voice going down my throat, and pounding on the roof of the mouth, on one side. And on the other hand, it says: the words that are aligned in time of the story. That is another time, as already mentioned.

Only those who have been experiencing the need to narrate, Simone de Beauvoir in Women broken. Because the person happy, happy man as the story does not need a shirt, tell the story. To live simply.

So we have our life stories. So we hear our exemplary lives.

In my last book alone The oral history listening , align four laboratories, four living workshops, which had been working to figure out what had been doing all these years. No longer a story of them, he had heard. It was a story about me, properly dressed, as befits academic parsimony, but little disguised in reality, as happened to the Marx Brothers with their beards in Duck Soup. As we started to drink put their beards to soak ... Do you understand?

So I checked one of the first listening experiences: Word Pastor, oral history transhumance. , work with my colleague Joaquín Bandera. Where the stories of the shepherds, were not as Garcilaso

The sweet lament of two pastors

together and Nemoroso Salicio,

But the lives battered Jesus suffered and Fernández and Angel Rodriguez, who rest in peace, they would Extremadura and Andalucia, respectively, in the forties and fifties. So their voices sound.

This is Angel, who died national master being in Leon:

cottage is now in progress and successive days

Step by step will save the plains of Castilla

The Council of the Mesta of national roots

has shown the way, called Cañada Real

They know the shepherds since time immemorial

And sometimes it is very difficult Save

For people did not want to respect ordered

When another hitch ou casual incident

Frequent in some payments to guard Instead,

The march will not stop. Rabadán spoke

Giving to save the content if it can be fixed.

But it is looking like it's time to tell ya

who form the team in order of seniority;

Usually there are six in a flock will,

A direct orders called Rabadán .

If there are any unforeseen or feel unwell this

Instantly takes over won Companion.

The call Helper does the number third

Same as on the roads is charged with yegüero.

And we still have three other, younger, of course:

are Person, the SOBRAO and Zagal or messenger,

herders are called that because they are breast-feeding.

And this is the voice of Jesus, who still lives and speaks like an angel.

Nine years I Motril [smaller than the lad] only for the summer. But I was in San Isidro de new year, the year before the war. The treintaycinco and I was in Fornos. Certainly that was the thing so bad. For the previous years had been that the October Revolution. Yes, thirty-four in Asturias, there was a revoltiñes, killing guards and ... Well, it was then that Allen area, which is near San Isidro, and there came a Asturias, as well a bit challenging, envalentonaos. One day as I was with the pastor who was Prior. Genaro was called. Relevalo had to go to one called Fonso and passed through the canyons and up one and says

"That is Fonso. Yes, He is Fonso

And began:

- Fonsoooo, Fonsoooo ...

And Fonso not answer and I fell for him. Low pall uncle, with a more evil, and says

- Who do you call?

And he realized it was not Fonso and says

- Man, I'm sorry, I'm hoping that over and saw him with this coat and thought it was him ...

And there began a cagamentos, some oaths and says

- Do not bother me anymore because I take the gun and I hit two shots.

It was the poor man, Genaro, stayed Cortao! So I say that it was that he was revolucionao treintaycinco that. Fugitives walked, lanzaos, arise.

Of other investigations (on migration, trade History on the changes in commercial establishments; War my father on the English civil war) highlighted this piece of The day I arrived in Madrid . By its condensation and freshness.

Well, I came to Madrid in 1950, a small town in the province of León. I came by train with a cousin of my mother. We arrived at the Gare du Nord, by night. Then I drew a lot of attention to the station itself, which was huge, had plenty of light, many people (keep in mind that I came from a village that had no light at the time, just put it that year).

We went out, took a taxi, I guess we should go through the Cuesta de San Vicente, Plaza of Spain, the United Way because we went to Calle Serrano. My cousin greeted serene and it caught my attention because I did not know who this gentleman. Then also caught my attention that my uncles had a shop and had no input by the portal. Then had to enter through the entrance of the tent, and the shutter impressed me greatly. Then we went and it caught my attention the phone, which I thought was a clock. Asked him what was and was told it was the phone. Called another uncle to me to see how things worked and then called me a lot of attention the house, high ceilings, also bathroom-toilet-because it was in my village there was not. And, well, the next day they took me to see a little out there. They took me to the movies, and there was a submarine movie, I do not remember what movie was, of course. To me it I did not like. Then I stood up in his chair. I started screaming. My cousins \u200b\u200btold me to shut up. And, well, they are the first memories I have of my arrival in Madrid

Listening Lessons

Without heard no story it seems to be in all cases. Even those of soliloquy, going ruminating, as Angel, his verse romances nomads.

The narrative provides the link between speakers. It is your means of contact. The absence of such phatic function. The lack of someone you name, puts you out of the human condition. As the wild child de l'Aveyron.

That is the great condition of our hostel with the narrative, is that telling a trobar clos : redundancy and closure of the speech, both repeated as structural requirements. And now we can try to appoint as the power that the story has to guard.

The narrative is like a cloak, is like a skin like a tattoo. Welcomes the ways of the body that are unnamed. The forms of dance, the gait, the ways to embrace, breathing, sighing, moaning, laughing with teeth rabbit or heartily.

That is the limit that is perceived in the listening. The body is struggling to find words. Not that the narrative is limited, that provides or requires its own time, as noted. Is that among the ways the body, including energy, heat the cold the warmth of cold hands or feet, the sweat of the brow or the burner of the body, including those fighting cardinal word narrative to settle, to catch chub, meaning to say.

This structural difficulty (which does not melt semiological with energy) currently has more than an imitation circumstances. I mean, so if is difficult to name, tell, tell, let's stay on the ineffable.

So says a sneaky form of domination that involves the theft of speech and the silencing of the word. From this one can not speak, not because I will not leave, but because it is ineffable itself is a mystery, what can we do. In this talk only the clergy, theologians, scholars, those who send.

speaks, people talk (remember the slogan of the transition?).

So the story listen, if we do it without filters, is a risk. We are in severe danger of being told we do not want to hear.

But the scene devoid of stories that explain things changing, life, create chaos, wants no name, appears to require a public word that does not enshrine the silence and theocratic or technocratic authoritarianism.

listening part of a radical misunderstanding of the difficulty of understanding exactly what we mean another.

party to ask for and give explanations and Pastor Jesus defined his conversation with us. What is oral history, and make them ask for explanations.

define

party from whom to whom goes the story. What is delivered and what it means to receive it. There is information: it is a gift. It is a political link. Of the polis.

In this gift that, as Marcel Mauss taught us, requires a threefold moral commandment:

a) must be open to receive it (not the stunned silence "do not count your life ") that is the transmission.

b) have to be willing to match (the listener is receiving a testimony that is saved and try to understand) this is heredity.

c) have to be willing to go beyond what is received (oral narratives that have to do things, we are not conservation: we must tell the tale, moving land from the suburbs, put his own name to the wastelands, raise Prohibited names of the deceased, to clarify what was what was at stake) that is political efficacy democratizing of oral narratives.

The fiction of the story, his share of time-limited, their simulation results in the pursuit of truth impossible, prohibited.

fiction to reconstruct the scene, helps break down the way, condensation repetitive verse that explodes, opens like a grain, with a strength that comes from inside and shines a word not said yet.

River, stay, sleep and mirror the story

So we're with the word in time (diegesis) in public and intimate times, and remain connected, inseparable, our stories.

Four times, I say in concept and image:

time the story: every narrative is like a river

The time of the moment: the whole story is as a stay

time unconscious: every narrative is like a dream

the biographical time: the whole story is like a mirror.

These four dimensions constitute our narration, the four must be addressed in order to take them on pulse, for analysis, to remove fruit.

Narration river of history, the litany history has taught us that it is also reversible, regressive, may fall sinister. The history of the Holocaust, the crimes of Stalin, the killings in Africa that no longer appear in the press. The no story, or stories cheats (war fiction, media, Baudrillard was the mother of all battles). This concealment with gross deletions and corrections, which we strive to call contemporary history.

narration that limits your space, as a stay that welcomes us, teaches us that we always have a ponto of calm in which to try to name it (the verb is both transitive, reciprocal, reflexive). Feel the need to be said, named, I make room for your senses, give me barracks, tell me. Feel the need to talk, who told us what happens, trying to name and to listen without filters, without fear). Feel the need to tell me who I be, what I'm wishing, what I fear, and this I do because I have said and as I said to another. So the story is reflexive: the recipient first and surprised myself.

The narrative is like a dream and puts us in a saying that we do not govern at all, it says. As Lorca said it best:

Time goes on sleep

Sunken every hair

eat yesterday and tomorrow

Dark flowers of mourning

This time suspended, walking backwards, putting the top down and vice versa. The logical time or time of the unconscious, is present in every narrative. Taught us the fine ear of Ronald Frasier, when he interviewed survivors of the English civil war (and remember you Remember other ). There goes what analysts call the unconscious, I as an oral historian I can not take care of it, but I can not hide and deny it exists. That says Frasier, intelligently.

The narrative as a mirror brings us to the various forms of the human condition that we reflected everywhere. Before them we learn to listen (verb prohibited difficult), to make it heard in our language, to point the untranslatable (temporarily or for long). It is the exercise of living between different lifestyles with different founding narratives with different beliefs. The year to which Habermas now called translation. Attempting to decipher what he's talking points to the other when their beliefs, their faith routines, their modes of base that lives.

aestheticizing This is not multiculturalism, consumerism, the worlds of yuppies. It is an arduous exercise, which requires moral pulse and perseverance. Patience. Good humor. Ability to continue telling stories. Stop to see if we put differently (and fans) in the circle of ominous silence. Of theocratic rule.

So as I do not think cracking that callus or under water, I will conclude - as anyone who is prepared to silence speech - with a haiku,

measured and Japanese story that I heard one day the poet José Ángel Valente:

and remained silent

the host, the traveler

and white chrysanthemum

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Toya Arechabala

; A mixture to which we are accustomed to a daily mixture is that which occurs between music and text. The song.

A and mestizo cultural product from a style, a particular author or tradition, is added after the singer's interpretation through which we listen, we learn. And the latest twist occurs when we make the listeners popular, "we do our" through listening and repetition in a more or less toned hum.

Before you begin sharing with you the reflections on the two songs that I will refer the Flower of cinnamon and King want to do a tour on music, on the text and the fact that they sing

music.

is very difficult to talk about music just because it is an experience that no words .

invade us, reminds us of the body, stripped naked, and out of us. And you can grant to every listener, every one of us, a mirror of their own.

The music tells us nothing, no , gives a translated content logically, proposes a shift from the realm of the literal into the realm of metaphor. In this perspective music would be the limit of poetry.

could also understand the music as an art of time. Replaces unexpected life time for a set time, tidy, manipulation, rhythm. Both the percussion, like the shape of the note, which has a duration.

Some Greek myths about the music show its tremendous power. Relate it to something unconscionable, too.

and Bacchae Dionysus: a screaming music, percussion and flute. Music career and is expressed in a ritual dance near death with the god and his entourage of women in the bush outside the polis, as uncivilized, regardless of the laws. A music frenzy. drive, body, which keeps women from the IDS, the social role. Music linked to the "not all" to "the black continent" music you can return to women crazy with desire: music as identification with the primordial forces instinctual, in a dimension of the non-domesticated, orgiastic release with loss of individual consciousness. And also a community sing-scream not necessarily synchronous.

With similarities to Dionysus, which frequently accompanies is Pan, the son of Hermes, who left his mother horrified by his ugliness. A God who loves the noise, which paralyzes its cry, which can lead to panic, a strange god who dies. A mongrel of a man and goat, border, associated with sex and the wild who tries unsuccessfully to seduce nymphs and making musical instruments metamorphosis they suffer in their flight: Syrinx became cane and then the flute leads to their lips sound Eco repeated.

Rejection makes you have, music.

"What to do with the music of the body of the drive, the drum and shout, wordless music of the flute with no chords, no harmony reassuring, with no agreement?

instruments are added harmonics, lira versus the fife, and especially the word is added.

The word conversion cry. The conversion of toned and jubilant cry of a child playing with the reel in the fort-da phonemes. The domestication of the cry that marks a rate of absence and presence, an interval. Two toned screams in which Freud hear two words that mean something. Voice that is pure origin sound, beyond the sense like the babbling baby play with sounds.

So the music that screams and dances that the singing would be a first attempt at symbolization. Fife diachronic time the synchronicity of the lyre, another.

But even with these limits the seductive voice of the sirens the charm of the voice of Orpheus show something that is dangerous, can not be heard without risk of dying for it. It is the voice that, while spoken with respect, keeps invoking his vocation. And that is acting in its melody and the flute of Dionysus, in spite of the harmonic, which carries the line synchronous Apollonian.

And is that voice in itself leads the body, body, and therefore "dangerous.

mermaids are female and winged monsters, with head and chest of a woman and body of a bird. No name, no one in particular is known, and have a voice that attracts men and then destroy. His singing is linked to death, the seduction that destroys and devours, the desire killer.

Hearing the siren song is the mix inseparable from pleasure and pain. At the risk of yielding to the call of that enjoyment is the hero of the neck ties. A joy that has not undergone symbolic castration. The pure voice siren, loving affection and irresistible imagery. The voice that recalls the enjoyment body lost the source.

The hero Orfeo "crazy", causes outside himself through "enchantment" of the rapture. He is a hero between Apollo and Dionysus, a genius of music and poetry, a famous singer, joining the song with the sound of the lyre.

Her singing touches magical beasts, birds, fish, even ends the sirens in the expedition of the Argonauts. Arrives to seduce death in his descent into Hades.

Is closer to the melody of rhythm and dancing world of Dionysus. Leads to the love poetry in his constant longing for Eurydice. Orfeo is associated with the masculine through the lyre of Apollo, but she sings like her mother's muse Calliope, that of the beautiful voice. Orpheus's voice would be the dark side of the great goddess, something charming, sleepy and quiet as mothers, whose melody is the tone of the voice of the mother who learns to differentiate before his face, voice and melody rather than lyrics.

Apollo, the god wider range of musicians is the leader and guide of the choir of the Muses. It's music as distance, ordered, prescribed. Harmony. Also it is the music that is shared, communal and participatory, but the author, and privileged interpreter divo imposed distances. Right. Shows the supremacy of the lira against the flute just skinning Marsyas.

The god screamed at born: give me my lyre and my curved bow, I announce to men the inflexible will of Zeus "(Homeric Hymn). This is the voice of the divine command, the superego, the other side of the female voice of the charm, the spell of enchantment. Leads to the law and order, the legal aspects of the religion of Apollo. Is the voice that is imposed on the Kassandra, the feminine. Exorcise the dimension of knowledge of the occult.

In the Republic Plato believes that the first step to combat the chaos of civilization is making "music and rhythm to follow the speech," they do not separate, not independent of the words and the music is dangerous, it overlooks the pleasure and loss .

The singing voice can not be separated from the words that give meaning you must limit it to the letter, to lose its ambiguity to exorcise his menacing character. Avoid what has the voice of a dangerous the word that limits, it symbolizes.

Whether listening to music, singing the fact

What about the music man, with the ability to listen, remember and repeat the music we listen?

other notes sound like if they were ours, as if they could be ours. Besides the man does not seem to be enough to listen to music and sings and repeats. And singing, repeating in a singsong music of others is a way of making music.

Maybe when we sing an erotic relationship with our voice heard and otherwise. O partial use, autoerotic, transitional, in the humming. The vocal object, a value of fetish, the sign of a sound object is missing. Signal substitution failure and repair.

how you play is sung only in the act of playing, singing voice we face, the voice of their own and other's voice. We make music, sing what to do with the voice of the other and raise their voice to find the ear of the Other. Singing, dancing is a way to turn it into a spiritual body, art, art of the evil that you know make do with that object making art through sublimation.

vocal music, dangerous for the voice, has two features that allow us to handle, let us sing the text that limited in its symbolism and this dimension of play in the singing. A game that allows "Pull" the voice, playing with her babies as they explore the sounds.

could understand the music or poetry as a therapeutic regression, similar to transitional phenomena. Substitutes would be symbolic of the initial basis of security and protection internalized. Thus, the trauma could be overcome through artistic production through the recreation of the initial experience helplessness.

What we hear, repeat and sing "is pleasure, is pleasure? "Pleasure as I fully and relaxation or somehow affects us and the subject is lost in the experience of spending, in line with the Dionysian?

Some sing some songs with a group of friends in an excursion or about some alcohol, others in the solitude of the car or shower. Many times over the playback of a disc or in concert with the artist's voice on duty. The public enjoys singing with him, listen not only looking but usually involved singing and dancing parts. And welcomes more when else does. The artists know this and often seek ways to engage the audience with repetition at least of certain phrases or looking to give palms ... And there is something that Freud described in the "psychology of the masses The individual is allowed to invade by emotion and this emotional state is transmitted to the ground.

The magic of song and music community allows us to transform us into One can have different opinions but all sing the same tune vibrate in sync. We open up the feeling of brotherhood. Awaken the feeling of oneness with ourselves and with others.

The singing, humming us to the world of amateur, amateur. For Barthes this situation of "amateur" is like a release of civilization a performance where the image does not worry that is triggered by it in others, but the text is sung for the pleasure of singing ... It breaks the separation between producers and consumers, the consumer society and market and society at stake of amateurs where the emphasis is on doing, singing, playing, and not in the song as a product. The joy of singing, something perhaps even subversive, marginal.

And along with this, as in the festivals and carnivals, a way out "socially correct" a demanding superego, which allows some regression, the momentary violation of certain laws, certain excesses of permissiveness before

Point: the unconscious of the text

In listening to the music the message of others becomes our own word. The listener is filled with meanings by converting sounds into meaningful text that affect the listener and which require decryption.

Listen as possible, to decipher the secret that brings together two individuals, a total questioning of an individual to another. As in listening unconscious psychoanalytic unconscious, the unconscious of the speaker that is supposed to be listening. A melody through a voice that we hear in itself, but we hear what he says and notes issued, which "conveys." Some songs that bring us closer to the "in-audit." A hearing on the subject of the unconscious.

, Words and music are joined, and this fact makes the analysis becomes more complex. And that can be approached from many different fields : musicologists, anthropologists, sociologists, analysts, and questions such as what makes a musical style is defined as its own, vals and ranchera Peru and Mexico in these songs. It may be the tradition, is the attempt from the power the survival and strengthening of nationalism as the music in any way represent us.

The music is a sign of social identifiers. This is not only the discourse but the music say what distinguishes mariachi rockers or rappers. Is vehicle identifications and ascriptions age groups, countries, or anti-system attitudes towards ....

However, these ways of bringing music to the enjoyment of pleasure, and their use in politics are pointing to the unconscious text .... Because it seems that the unconscious of listeners tune in to "the unconscious of the text", as in folk tales, in popular music are recited, repeated certain themes are enacted in a kind of acting out.

Following "the pleasure of the text" Barthes:

"text of pleasure: that happy , fill, causes euphoria, comes from culture, not break with it "Text of bliss: he who puts in a state of loss, it unsettles the historical cultural hesitation"

Where would the lyrics of these songs that listeners enthroned, repeatedly hear, sing, make your own? A music that people recognize, music, even with clear authorship, is adopted by listeners as "popular" ... Learned music by listening to an oral tradition in our urban and literate times

What do we say when we sing, why we sing that, or we select? Anthropologists and musicologists will emphasize what is of identificatory, as is the strengthening of the membership of a group ... But the peculiarity of this phenomenon to repeat and sing these songs "popular" is that it transcends national boundaries and genres of music and is adopted by listeners elsewhere.

So

becomes a text that can do other than to divergent readings of the text broken from the point of view of communication, mestizo.

- Chabuca / José Alfredo: The flower of the cinnamon and King

as examples the fact I bring capacity of certain songs that transcend their borders, their local identities, an issue of Chabuca Granda (1920-1983) and a José Alfredo Jiménez (1926-1973) in his career predated the rise of the Internet, outside dimensions of music "global" youth, previous the international circuit of the World Music. They were able to generate a cultural mix, specific hybridization, added to the mixing inherent to the cultural processes. The king, the flower of the cinnamon can be regarded as musical hymns refer to the Mexican and Peruvian identity. And they sing and are popular outside its borders even if they are copies or typical works, with a very strong musical identity.

What sing these texts?

Many songs "popular" often traveled for a loss. What is sung is the affect of the lost, is a love, a city, the last time ... A starting point of a nostalgia, a wound that will not close.

Let's start with the titles: King, The flower of the cinnamon.

Two masculine and feminine definite articles: the and the.

The king, male, as par excellence, without any feature which particularice. The other title seems to refer to a woman who is nicknamed The flower, a flower specifically, the cinnamon. Cinnamon to the popularly attributed to him aphrodisiac. Not as well known as a flower of the jasmine or roses that appear in the text.

King Man, woman Flor

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King

I know that I'm out, but the day I die I know I have to mourn

( mourn, mourn, mourn and mourn )

will say that I wanted, but you will be very sad

and so you're staying .

With or without money always do what I want and my word is law

I have no throne or queen, no one who understands me but I'm still the king.

A stone path taught me that my destiny was rolling and rolling

(rolling and rolling, rolling and rolling)

then told me that there is a carrier to arrive first

but we must go.

- First verse:

seems that the text originally sung by the affection of a loss, abandonment in the context of a loving passion.

What is the reaction to this become so succinctly expressed in "I know very well I'm out" of this "act" the story of the text? There is a position of knowledge, "I know just where I am, out of" your life "but denies that this means outside of your love. And he takes some revenge by predicting initial cessation for a loving partner inability to grieve. And the choir "to mourn, and mourn, mourn and mourn" as the voice of Echo, liable to repeat the speech of another, repeating the last sounds from the voice that sings like a echolalic effect of passion.

Against this be out before the loss "passive" unwanted adopting an active and fantasizes in own death as a loss, to get an "I am indeed who leaves."

Although attempts to deny love, "say that he loved me" the sadness of the memory is forever "and you're staying." There is no forgetting possible. It's the fantasy of being loved to be at some point want to return and then you will find our revenge, our revenge through our neglect.

And the chorus comes , which changes the pace and valsea, it becomes alive and is the part that the audience chanted.

With money or without it, with or without you, you do what you do, if you let me out of your life, and do not have, having you or not, always do what I want. I, like Freud's grandson in Fort-da game, shooting the film and I pick it up, I "took the controls" of your absence, your abandonment.

I have or not I have: money, throne, queen, or anyone who understands me. It is of having the analyst whether or not to ...

I am the law, I use the language of the law even to do as they say in Spain "My real winner." I do not act according to law but according to my whim: I always do what I want. I can do everything, nothing gets in my omnipotence, no castration.

I was the king, but not enough, though you're gone, I'm still the king of your life as it shows that I'll mourn ad eternum saddened. Despite the loss of the throne and the queen, the Oedipus, the rejection and I'm still the king.

- Second stanza:

The loving partner has disappeared.

What exists instead is exposure of concepts that lead to learning a particular manner.

Two characters: a rock and a carrier who speak and teach. One first, one after a temporal relationship between the two teachings.

A stone path, a tramp, is that shows the destination. Any of the two meanings might be interested: "chain of events considered to be necessary and fatal" or the " goal point ". If the latter: my goal is to roll and roll, if first I have to roll and roll ... In both cases the roll, not the ride, is a non-voluntary action, something that happens to the stones, the boulders, pushed by water or slopes. Something pushes the subject in its tour.

But where is the mandate of being first to deny the carrier later?

A carrier is someone who herd the animals to carry the load , an emblematic figure of the Mexican people. And again the know. I know I'm out, I know you have to mourn, and a carrier, either as a stone, known to reach herding animals bearing the burden.

Stone and carrier accepted standards and to also invite him to accept them. The first acceptance of a parental figure in reference to the destination, the carrier to accept not being first, not the One

- The chorus offers a level of opposition to these characters . Something that people will sing or coree usually so loud, or even move to its beat.

What has been lost, what has not? What then is denied?

denial is given to the law of the carrier, the teaching of the stone: I do what I want, my word is law, I'm still the king. I'm the One

There is a defiant challenge that involves a relationship with the Other, someone to listen to what you are saying, to impress someone with the transgression of what I want and do not recognize law but my word.

resonates to what the child would say "king of the house" do they want; deny castration in short. A pre oedipal position. One way sweetened socially permissible in the choral song of perversion through denial.

A social outlet, a regression licensed to a pregenital stage, the omnipotence longed ...

Flower of cinnamon

sings "What has the flower of the cinnamon?

is a text with many variations, Lima / Lima, garnish / decorated ... Whether it has been necessary to seek Chabuca own version which is what I follow these lines.

few words of text are uncommon for part of his audience. Such smoothness is not much used in Spain. It is not clear its "argument", or perhaps it is addressed or of the speaker. What more is retained is that it speaks of a woman, a river, a bridge and a mall. A woman in particular and concrete landscapes.

The protagonist takes the title of the song to reach the scene, expect the chorus to make his appearance. We know nothing of that goes to Lima. Later he describes as dark and just do not tell him.

reporter's relationship with the woman is given the eyes, no words. The relationship with Lima is through the voice that asks you to give your ears.

Let me tell you Lima

Let me tell you glory

Del dream evoking memories

From the old bridge, the river and the mall

Let me tell you Lima;

Now that perfumes the memory still

Now still rocks in a dream

The old bridge, the river and the mall

It begins with a request: let me tell you-sing, which needs approval of an absent interlocutor, a man in Lima. He describes something that is a dream, a fantasy that is remembered, it is mentioned. What happens in a specific place, a bridge, a river and a specific mall. Thus, just as the ghost, there is a mise en scene in which the subject relates to the object of his desire.

In the second stanza is added to memory, the memory, the effect of a perfume dreamy blurry, fleeting and evanescent. Something that can be lost to dissipate the aroma at this temporality of yet, still remembered but whose memory will be missed. The Lima has to listen to something not lost. This is to prevent loss through the reconstruction of memory.

The loss of love in the king refuses through the eternal memory, of forgetting impossible and return to a pre-Oedipal stage. In the Flower of cinnamon to the loss, amid fears the possible loss, claim the other to develop a memory. There is an attempt to make a fiction, to make a story through the other.

(Chorus):

Jasmine and roses in her hair on the face

Airosa walked the flower of the cinnamon Spilled

smoothness and his step left

Aromas of mixing in the chest had

There are flowers in nearly every stanza: jasmine, rose, cinnamon. Jasmine adorning or description of a white hair, rosy-faced roses, cinnamon flower of love ...

The flower as a symbol of the feminine. The flower of the cinnamon and femininity, such as being female. In addition to these flowers that carry a scent, a perfume, it is specified that the woman leaves behind, which is giving away something that brings in the chest, a mixture of something that smells. A body waste and waste precious. A waste the body that represents the pinnacle of value.

This is a screen memory of another memory. The breast milk, the smell of the woman-mother, perhaps. The olfactory and drive, as erogenous zone, the smell of the mother as object. Something very primal that refers to the intervention of the olfactory in the constitution of primitive psyche. The same force that tells Suskind's novel.

Calls is set to Lima a woman that takes into account a woman. Perhaps the body parts of a woman ... The agalma, beautiful image that is offered to admiration. Some of the singer's own narcissism is invested in this flower, like a living object which one can boast. One part, parts, detached from a whole, a partial object represented as part of a totally absent. An object focused by the partial drives and shines the "fragment" of the drive, the focused object being described. agalma brightness more than pleasure is a pleasure , and manifests in turn prompting a lack of desire.

are asked to listen to a fantasy, a memory singer wants transmit. Of an object, a ghost that has seduced.

From the bridge to the mall

often walk takes

in the path he shudders

the rate of hip

recorded the laughter of the river breeze

and wind tossed it

the bridge to the mall

The flower of the cinnamon as the epitome of the feminine woman. The Flower-Women

A description of a woman, essentially the body of a woman, a woman who walks gracefully moving her hips, which has a small foot, her hair decorated with flowers or white flushed face, or maybe red for hot, it smells in a characteristic manner ...

Here is a hysterical sought to be appointed as a woman through her body image. A search in the image on the question of femininity, a way to name the unnamable in place of the feminine. Venera through the body of another woman who holds the secret of what it is, the mystery of what it is, and try through another woman, to give body.

Something resonates in the text of the hysterical way questions the desire and wondered what is to be a woman who does not know the answer given thought to have other women, which is between one woman and one man. Hence the need for three characters: the Lima, the Flower and who sings, as in hysteria, she is never alone but in a love triangle. The need for another woman, the woman who knows the mystery.

Opera "The Flower of cinnamon as the other woman that can identify, identify the one that puts the body, which has an answer to your question of what is a woman?

the singer Do you identify other part with the Lima party?

Let me tell you Lima

Ay! Let me tell you, dark

my thoughts

to see if they wake up from sleep,

sleep entertaining, dark,

your feelings

Again calls to Lima, now particularized to "brown", a gentle, say local dark-skinned black (again a physical description) to let the story take you to hear action, gives a mandate that makes you wake up in another fantasy that "entertains his feelings." Lima's fantasy, fantasy is different than the text sung in the first stanzas. That changed a fantasy for what was dream and now qualifies for thought. It is no longer a fantasy, not a dream of which he speaks, sings, is the other who is dreaming ... Y of that other dream is what it enjoins the first to wake up and then to a series of tasks.

All previous text it referred to the feelings, smells, fantasies and dreams, rhythmic music and the river walk and no transition of thought comes the imperative expressed in the form of command:

aims of the smoothness that gives the Flor de Canela

Garnish with jasmine qualifying her beauty.

hope the smoothness: a form of smell, a way to incorporate the smoothness ... again. Reviewing meanings to see what can be drawn would be three groups: naivete and sincerity, boldness and impudence, wit and cleverness

aims for the self-confidence, the boldness, grace, the ingenuity, fill yourself with all , learn from it, become as it might. The smoothness that is repeated in the text, as mentioned, the agalma in all its glory. To this enjoyment is summoned and warned the dark Lima and that he heard and repeated the song.

recap mandates of the text, the abundance of verbs in the imperative, especially in this passage:

"Let me tell you / I tell you to hear my story of feelings and images and build the fiction to me.

-leave to tell you my mind is the same story images become demand :

-first to awaken from sleep and waking:

agalma -Stir-Flor Women and

- "opera" on it, re -decorating the Flor de la Canela, smell another flower, jasmine. Flower on flower scent of smell. Why this qualifies her beauty? Why is it necessary to qualify? Could it be perhaps a way to ensure, to cover? Without ornamental beauty can show their sublime and terrible beauty as that which is one step behind the terror. It is necessary to veil the beauty of the flower-woman to face her.

And perhaps the main thing, cover up the smell that Flor de la Canela shed with the smell of jasmine.

Carpet bridge again, and graces the mall

other characters are back on stage present throughout the text: the bridge and the mall.

And for them has to rush around Lima certain actions: carpet and deck, which also means an ornament. And a reference to the past to be updated in this "new"

pacing That the river passing through the village

Mention the river he points out as something different, a character far removed from any possible action Lima on it. The river, like a musical god, sets the pace which is the rhythm and timing. is the river who encompass a woman's footsteps on the sidewalk. They are the steps in the stone rolled down the road. Are steps in the subject, the woman whom the river has given the grid of the beat and not the direction of his footsteps on the sidewalk.

And remember .... jasmine in her hair ...

The epilogue, the coda, the final chorus begins with And remember ...

All

stanza is written with an eye on the past, imperfect: the Flor de la Canela walking, picking, throw ... I do not ask her to listen to Lima but remember, is the need for memory, enter the time spent on this.

Something must be cared for in short through the memory, something that should not be forgotten, something that is not be missed, and hence the last term to save the ghost.

Here ends the tour of The King and The Flower of cinnamon leaving open the obvious issues such as masculine and feminine in these songs or what the difference, if any, between it and sing a woman or a man.

the end of these lines, of this talk, I would have given rise to new questions and concerns you on the fusion between music and lyrics, between song and singer between listening and singing.

And I hope I have shown that repeated texts are far from neutral, 'innocent', but they are a rich source for learning the constitution of our psyche and unconscious game.