Thee Mountain

Harmony, Indiscriminate thoughts on June 9th, 2011 by escargot

Today I realized why I’ve been listening to a band for three days straight and, as a friend said, probably for the whole week.
Oh, the synchrony.

This is a sample track from their last album, Kollaps Tradixionales.
Thee Silver Mount Zion (and their endless different names) are a band of canadian musicians, most of them related with the Godspeed You! Black Emperor act.

You have all probably heard about the volcano eruption in south Chile, that has spread its ashes all over its vicinity. In General Roca we lost two days worth of lessons because of it, and it’s not really over yet, the film school opened its doors again, but the air still feels like a cheap dry martini.

I don’t know what’s wrong -or right- with me, but this uncomfortable situation activates me. It itches.

And that’s something.

Mist (not the german one)

Film, Indiscriminate thoughts on May 22nd, 2011 by escargot

Video-haikus might be the most pretentious and artsy attempt of communication. But hell, I get the chance of getting a plus account on Vimeo.

I finished the adaptation of a Hemingway story last week, it ended up very well, I feel I did something good that in some way or another respects Hemingway’s work. The teachers are supposedly reading through all the submitted scripts and will be choosing two to be filmed, I’m starting to doubt that they’ll pick mine, and not because it’s not good enough. I suppose my proposal of a short film doesn’t really fit with what the school is aiming for. I don’t know, but I’m really looking forward to making it. Maybe I can gather a team and make it anyways. We’ll see.

“De Golpe” is almost finished, I’m waiting on the original music to be finished and wrap the title and credits animation, but so far I’m happy with the film and what it has become. As soon as it’s finished we’ll try to promote it and get it into some festivals or whatever we can find. We think it has the potential to make something out of it.


Indiscriminate thoughts on May 3rd, 2011 by escargot

Perejil en un vaso de agua

I don’t want to believe it is coincidental that the sudden and continuous appearance of Death in the media has some strange relation to all the people around me, drowning in a glass of water.

Let’s be honest, I’ve always felt ashamed for being fascinated by guns and violence. Being parented by the most pacifist and non violent person I reckon that might be the root behind this voyeuristic amusement of weapons, although this feeling came rather late, or at least I rationalized it not so long ago, five or six years ago, when I got rid of strong, friend-related, prejudices. Might also have to do with reading The Snows of Kilimanjaro and from then on many of Hemingway’s short stories, where the glorification of war, hunt and guns feels so honest and primitive.

I think I’ll just stick with this by now and see if I develop this later on. It feels too raw and harsh for now (talk about quintessential qualities).

By the way, I’ll be adapting a story of Hemingway into a shortfilm script. Maybe I’ll mention something about it in here as soon as I stop dreaming about it, I can’t deal with oneiric voices dwelling into my writings.

Dead parade

Indiscriminate thoughts on April 30th, 2011 by escargot

Palomas en vuelo

Sometimes years seem to be a parade of people and places passing away.

Then, the letting go.

Thank you.

Burnt bridges, hiatus

Indiscriminate thoughts on April 16th, 2011 by escargot


My offshore travel didn’t happen at all last week. More than two years living in Argentina and I still hope things will happen when they are planned to happen. No offense meant.

Everything seems
to be on hold,
as if time itself would bend
towards itself, to keep unsatisfaction
at the highest peak of the past months.

Might be the reason of my sore throat,
or my bleeding nose,
always resurfacing.
Me unknowing of its meaning, like tricks
of light bouncing off imaginary objects.

Sometimes I fear that seasonal
could become random,
-but wouldn’t that be, a gratifying thought?,
probably for everyone
holding hopes for the inexplicable;
finding meanings
in meaningless phenomena.

Dash. A link between nonsense.


Indiscriminate thoughts on April 2nd, 2011 by escargot


I’ll be off for this weekend, seeking the unsearchable; craving the unexpected.
Finding peace between the nonexistent lifes of the unknown.

Cryptic? Of course, in its most exuberant proportion. Life.

Opening the Reflexive Reflection

Indiscriminate thoughts on March 29th, 2011 by escargot

Hoja de helecho húmeda I’ve finally come to senses. This will never change. It stays as an open canvas. A carcass willingly receiving maggots. I can’t ask you to be participative. But I can ask you to communicate. I believe it is already happening. I actually want to believe that any communication with myself will become a dialectic phenomenon.
Yes. It’s happening now.

I finally, and unexpectedly, shared some words with someone about this. It can be what I want it to be and it will be. From now on I’ll accept it and stop all the whining and sobbing. Enough of that. Whatever this is, it is already. I’ll be bleeding it until it becomes a dry casket, cracking with each noise, each letter, each word, each symbol.

The phone has rang more than usual these last days. I suppose it has to do with me being awfully aware of my current availability.
It will end.

Troubled mind, troubled course

Indiscriminate thoughts on March 27th, 2011 by escargot

Caracol negro adulto

Like the dwelling snail on dry leaves, I carve for a response to unanswered questions – although an answer to them or just a hint of reply whatsoever?

I’ve been pondering for days and weeks what to do.
Should I close this and stop pretending I’ll ever be updating it periodically?

I actually like writing in here, ranting in a place maybe no one visits. I’m partly responsible for that, since I write in English. Most of my friends are Spanish speakers, so if I were an effective salesman I’d start writing in Spanish for the bigger part of the audience.

But this place began as a surface where I could express myself equally for friends at home, friends in one of the many places I’ve been at and for everyone that I have related with in this nonexistent plane, called the internets. For that matter I should stick to English, despite the fact I think no native English speaker visits this. After all English is just a tool nowadays.

So, I’ve been thinking about this for quite some time, more than I can spare actually. But that’s just my current state of mind, always deviating from my duties, eager to grasp some distraction from my responsibilities, or as the neologism says, procrastinating. But is there really procrastination when you are aware of it, or is just the modern, more active way, of sleeping over the laziness; escapism by feeding the neurons with fast food. But I doubt there’s knowledge not ‘fast’ and ‘easy’ anymore.

Back to the topic, what should I turn this into, if I should actually. Considering my main attraction is film I could turn this into some film-related blog (yeah, it would start being a blog after years of fighting tooth and nail to not be one). But what for, is there anyone around interested in such things? Supposedly aiming for a broader audience is a good thing, but I can’t be bothered with all this modern spamming of blogs and posts and whatever else is being politely spammed. So that’s probably a no go.

Well, I doubt I’ll find “a bingo“, and that’s not the sense of this post either, but I’m kind of leaned to kick the twitching corpse of this site a bit more, see if there’s any response, any echoes to the ramblings of a doubtful mind.

PS: Gosh, I love how this window looks like, I love the fonts, the blackness, the title. I think I’ve made this just for myself.


Indiscriminate, Photography thoughts on October 24th, 2009 by escargot

Limits. Are needed.


Are they?


Indiscriminate thoughts on August 10th, 2009 by escargot

Borges said that Kafka’s most remarkable virtue was to create intolerable situations.

It’s 01:42 and I’m sitting at my desk, in front of the horror of a blank piece of paper trying to adapt one of his works into a photonovel.

Now it’s 01:49 and I’m sitting at my desk, in front of the horror of a half-filled form of  “Add New Post”.