CDLII: Carmina Burana

CDLI: Jean Dominique Bauby

En 1995 a la edad de 43 años, Jean-Dominique Bauby, carismático redactor jefe de la revista francesa Elle, sufrió una embolia masiva. Salió del coma tres semanas más tarde y se descubre que es víctima del "síndrome de cautiverio "; está totalmente paralizado, no puede moverse, comer, hablar ni respirar sin asistencia. Su mente funciona con normalidad y sólo es capaz de comunicarse con el exterior mediante el parpadeo de su ojo izquierdo. Forzado a adaptarse a esta única perspectiva, Bauby crea un nuevo mundo a partir de las dos cosas sobre las que conserva el control: su imaginación y su memoria.

En un hospital de Berk-Sur-Mer, le enseñan un código usando las letras más comunes del alfabeto utilizando el parpadeo de su ojo izquierdo. Mediante este parpadeo, y con la ayuda de los doctores del hospital es capaz de deletrear letra a letra concienzudas palabras, frases y párrafos. Mediante este método es capaz de dictar una profunda aventura dentro del psique humano. Este método es capaz de abrir la prisión que resulta su cuerpo (la escafandra) permitiéndole planear sin límites el reino de la libertad (la mariposa).

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La imagen la saqué de acá.

CDL: Show must go on

Empty spaces - what are we living for?
Abandoned places - I guess we know the score..
On and on!
Does anybody know what we are looking for?

Another hero - another mindless crime.
Behind the curtain, in the pantomime.
Hold the line!
Does anybody want to take it anymore?
The Show must go on!
The Show must go on!Yeah!
Inside my heart is breaking,
My make-up may be flaking,
But my smile, still, stays on!

Whatever happens, I'll leave it all to chance.
Another heartache - another failed romance.
On and on...
Does anybody know what we are living for?
I guess i'm learning
I must be warmer now..
I'll soon be turning, round the corner now.
Outside the dawn is breaking,
But inside in the dark I'm aching to be free!

The Show must go on!
The Show must go on! Yeah,yeah!
Ooh! Inside my heart is breaking!
My make-up may be flaking...
But my smile, still, stays on!
Yeah! oh oh oh

My soul is painted like the wings of butterflies,
Fairy tales of yesterday, will grow but never die,
I can fly, my friends!

The Show must go on! Yeah!
The Show must go on!
I'll face it with a grin!
I'm never giving in!
On with the show!

I'll top the bill!
I'll overkill!
I have to find the will to carry on!
On with the,
On with the show!

CDIL: El sabor del poeta

TODD:
Haven't you got poet, or something like that?
LOVETT:
No, y'see, the trouble with poet is
'Ow do you know it's deceased?
Try the priest!

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Escuchala.

CDXLVIII: Potencial

Podría ser distinto, si, podría.

Podría, es tan semántica 

y pragmáticamente 

potencial, 

que se condena a sí misma

a la tortuosa rueda de la repetición

y la inconcreción, con la alevosía del dolo.

El grito del mundo, 

tan romántico como

condenado.

Podríamos, deberíamos

podrían, deberían.

Si quisieran, 

¡Que quieran, o la muerte!

Y no son.

Ni pueden.

Quizás deben,

pero no pueden.

O no quieren, 

y los matamos.

Pero no lo haríamos,

-ni podríamos-,

pero aún así,

ni queriendo,

ni pudiendo,

ni debiendo,

ni haciendo;

el potencial se salva

y se hace realidad.

Ni así, por el conjuro

que lo originó.

Sin razón,

ni corazón.

CDXLVII: Epiphany

I had him!
His throat was there beneath my hand.
No, I had him!
His throat was there and now he'll never come again.
Mrs. Lovett: Easy now, hush love hush
I keep telling you, Whats your rush?
Todd: When? Why did I wait?
You told me to wait -
Now he'll never come again.
There's a hole in the world like a great black pit
And it's filled with people who are filled with shit
And the vermin of the world inhabit it.
But not for long...

They all deserve to die.
Tell you why, Mrs. Lovett, tell you why.
Because in all of the whole human race
Mrs. Lovett, there are two kinds of men and only two
There's the one staying put in his proper place
And the one with his foot in the other one's face
Look at me, Mrs Lovett, look at you.

No, we all deserve to die
Tell you why, Mrs. Lovett, tell you why.
Because the lives of the wicked should be made brief
For the rest of us death will be a relief
We all deserve to die.

And I'll never see Johanna
No I'll never hug my girl to me - finished!
Alright! You sir, you sir, how about a shave?
Come and visit your good friend Sweeney.
You sir, too sir? Welcome to the grave.

I will have vengenance.
I will have salvation.
Who sir, you sir?
No ones in the chair, Come on! Come on!
Sweeney's. waiting. I want you bleeders.
You sir! Anybody!
Gentlemen now don't be shy!

Not one man, no, nor ten men.
Nor a hundred can assuage me.
I will have you!
And I will get him back even as he gloats
In the meantime I'll practice on less honorable throats.
And my Lucy lies in ashes
And I'll never see my girl again.

But the work waits!
I'm alive at last!
And I'm full of joy!

CDXLVI: The hole of the world

You are young. Life has been kind to you.
You will learn.

There's a hole in the world like a great black pit
and the vermin of the world inhabit it
and its morals aren't worth what a pig could spit
and it goes by the name of London.

At the top of the hole sit the privileged few
Making mock of the vermin in the lower zoo
turning beauty to filth and greed...

I too have sailed the world and seen its wonders,
for the cruelty of men is as wonderous as Peru
but there's no place like London!

There's a hole in the world like a great black pit
and it's filled with people who are filled with shit!
And the vermin of the world inhabit it...

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Escuchalo.

CDXLV: Too much love will kill you

I'm just the pieces of the man I used to be
Too many bitter tears are raining down on me
I'm far away from home
And I've been facing this alone
For much too long

I feel like no-one ever told the truth to me
About growing up and what a struggle it would be
In my tangled state of mind
I've been looking back to find
Where I went wrong

Too much love will kill you
If you can't make up your mind
Torn between the lover
And the love you leave behind
You're headed for disaster
'cos you never read the signs
Too much love will kill you
Every time

I'm just the shadow of the man I used to be
And it seems like there's no way out of this for me
No there's no making sense of it
Every way I go I'm bound to lose

Too much love will kill you
Just as sure as none at all
It'll drain the power that's in you
Make you plead and scream and crawl
And the pain will make you crazy
You're the victim of your crime
Too much love will kill you
Every time

Too much love will kill you
It'll make your life a lie
Yes, too much love will kill you
And you won't understand why
You'd give your life, you'd sell your soul
But here it comes again
Too much love will kill you
In the end...

CDXLIV: Love of my life

Love of my life, you hurt me,
You've broken my heart, and now you leave me.

Love of my life can't you see,
Bring it back bring it back,
Don't take it away from me,
Because you don't know what it means to me.

Love of my life don't leave me,
You've stolen my love now desert me,

Love of my life can't you see,
Bring it back bring it back,
Don't take it away from me,
Because you don't know what it means to me.

You will remember when this is blown over,
And everythings all by the way,
When I grow older,
I will be there at your side,
To remind you how I still love you
I still love you.

Hurry back hurry back,
Don't take it away from me,
Because you don't know what it means to me.

Love of my life,
Love of my life.

CDXLIII: Gimme

Gimme some indescribable feeling, some fuckin' illusion, something like love. Gimme, at least, a rotten life. A mean to dream for. Gimme a knife to cut off the face of bitter certainty, gimme the chance to doubt. Gimme every hug we've left behind, every death onto someone else's bed. Fuck your creepy habit of taking away. Gimme some shitty pool where to swim around. Gimme less. Gimme truth. Rotten but unique life.