#J.C. Vásquez's Eng. texts

[juancarlosvasquez]

Golden Gate Bridge

To Keith O'Donnell

Jay with ropes

Keith with vodka

and I,

we have a friend

who invites us

who makes pavilions

of gold with fish and seaweed

who helps the family fly.

Like dreams fly

to wake you up from

the depths

on the back of the shadow

under the naked trill

of the birds,

that immensity of the

landscape,

and relief arises.

Go, he will teach you everything

without useless words.

Do you want to? From top to bottom

in a suit

while sipping a gin and tonic.

Jay with pills, Keith

in AA and I,

we have a friend who

has thousands of friends

who have come to

flutter their arms

in an effort to fly. Because wings will sprout,

festive garlands watered

with oceanic agony.

Go, lean against the railing

granting desire

its whims,

with firm hands,

bending your knees

while you contemplate the

sailing of a sailboat.

Jay, Keith, you, and I

we have a friend who

unites,

who dictates the path

where the vanishing points converge

the speed of the wind without

diverting the fall,

4 seconds, 121

kilometers

per hour.

© Juan Carlos Vásquez

Image by Brigitte Werner from Pixabay

[juancarlosvasquez]

"New and Unique Settings by Jaime Saenz Guzmán | Interview with Gisela Morales, by Juan Carlos Vásquez. Almiar Magazine."

I discovered Jaime Saenz's work in an old basement of a building in Manhattan in 2002. The work was an extensive thesis that left me deeply impressed from beginning to end. Since then, it has been required reading for me, a reference that has led me to explore and discover new realms that I was unaware of.

Gisela Morales, niece of Jaime Saenz Guzmán, responsible for his archive and copyright, presents a faithful exposition of aspects of his life within the family environment. His relationship with the city of La Paz, love. Unpublished and pivotal anecdotes in the creation of his work, presenting us with the material closure of his archives as testimonial contributions.

—Tocnolencias, a controversial book among Saenz's works. What was the main reason for this book taking almost three decades to be published?

—Tocnolencias was published after a difficult decision and a process of reflection and exchange of opinions, both with Saenz's closest friends and with the publishing company. The main reason was that Saenz did not include this book among those predetermined for publication.

Without knowing the reasons and being very respectful of his decisions without questioning them, both Arturo Orías and the close family, with whom he chose to coordinate, maintained this position. Even after Arturo Orías' death, more years were awaited, based on his decision as the custodian, who always believed that the book dealt with a sensitive subject: Saenz's position regarding Jews.

Finally, understanding that if there was any repercussion, it would rather open a door for discussing how Saenz critically approached the topic, the book was published, and even a doctoral thesis has been written about it.

—Do you have any anecdotes in your life that, due to their uniqueness, you remember more than others?

—For those of us who shared time with him, there are unforgettable moments like going for walks always in a straight line, until something stops you and you stand there contemplating it for hours. It was typical during outings to Valle de Ánimas and Llojeta.

The sessions with the telescope were so magical. Seeing the planets, listening to his stories. You were transported to another dimension.

We will never forget his terrifying screams. He could make the whole house shake while calling for Aunt Esther or asking us to close the doors of his rooms to keep the light out.

And how could we not remember his imposing laughter and laughs that often had an ironic and sarcastic tone.

His way of smoking was also peculiar. He smoked unfiltered cigarettes and always split them in half before lighting them.

Other memorable visits are the ones when he would light oil lamps and alcohol lamps to illuminate the house and tell us stories about La Paz and its characters, creating an atmosphere of darkness closer to mystery than darkness itself.

And so, every person who crossed paths with him could tell you countless anecdotes, customs, and quirks, some learned, others resting in memory.

—Which of his texts holds the most solemnity for you?

—I have a special connection with "Los Cuartos," in prose. In poetry, his complete works, although deeply marked by "Aniversario de una Visión," "Recorrer esta Distancia," "Muerte por el Tacto," and "Al Pasar un Cometa." I cannot fail to mention "La Noche," which moves me in a special way.

• Fragment of the interview conducted in Spanish

• Foto: Javier Molina Barrios

[juancarlosvasquez]

Letralia 230 | Interview with actor Eliezer Ortiz: "Talent without effort and discipline is wasted time" | Juan Carlos Vásquez.

With two decades of experience and the support of professionals like Mel Shapiro or Sir Anthony Hopkins, Puerto Rican actor Eliezer Ortiz is emerging as one of the rising Latin figures in acting. Venezuelan writer Juan Carlos Vásquez talked to him about his work and projects. "This career is for people who are truly strong internally because there are many storms to face; it's a career for those who can endure the most. The most enjoyable part is the whole process of discovery, that you're doing something different all the time, it's not monotonous, you live many lives, eras, etc., you're constantly nourishing yourself and meeting wonderful people."

—What is the most complex and the most enjoyable aspect of your career?

—The most complex aspect is living in eternal uncertainty because you never know what's going to happen. Additionally, you're constantly dealing with rejection, and the majority of casting decisions for a project have nothing to do with your talent. This career is for people who are truly internally strong because there are many storms to face. It's a career for those who can endure the most. The most enjoyable aspect is the entire process of discovery. You're constantly doing something different, it's not monotonous. You live many lives, eras, etc. You're constantly nourishing yourself and meeting wonderful people.

—There's always someone who inspires us. Someone who pushes us to go the extra mile. Who do you admire in your profession?

—I've been fortunate to have many people who have supported me throughout my journey, such as Ernesto González, Luis Lizardi, Mel Shapiro, Ivonne Coll, Gil Cates, Michael Mclain, Sir Anthony Hopkins, my family, and friends whom I don't need to mention because they know who they are. In my profession, I admire any artist who gives their best and is serious and committed to their work. I have to confess that I consider Judi Dench, Luz Minerva Rodríguez, Javier Bardem, and Forest Whitaker as inspirations.

Fragment of the interview conducted in Spanish

[juancarlosvasquez]

—How do you come up with stories that mostly depict terror, madness, panic, and hatred? What diagnosis would you make when comparing reality with fiction?

—I imagine characters who are broken, exhausted, cornered against vulgarity and a lack of imagination and humor (including myself).

What we write in fiction is absolutely fascinating because we provide ethical justifications for cruelties and elevate the most despicable acts to an intellectual level. In reality, all the deaths, tortures, and abuses are carried out by big mediocrities in an even more mediocre way. Reality is intensely boring. The surprising thing is the number of people who extol those mediocrities. I suppose the saying that every nation gets the government it deserves is a universal constant, something undeniable.

• Translation of the interview conducted in Spanish.

• Interview with Pablo López, The Iconoclast: Disassembling Social Hypocrisy. By Juan Carlos Vásquez. Excerpt.

• Ilustración: Johanna Van Beneden. Artist: Kurar art- Pinterest

[juancarlosvasquez]

—JCV: Throughout your career as a writer, what challenges and mental processes have you overcome to ensure your work flows smoothly?

—AJU: My childhood days were filled with happiness, although haunted by the "specters" of my imagination in a Venezuelan oil field. My adolescence was far from tranquil, exposed to the dangers of pre-iconoclasm that eventually brought fame to the wildness and irreverence of youth in the famous Seventies Decade [20th Century, of course]. My teenage years were besieged by hallucinogens, rock music, sexual indulgence, philosophical readings, Hessism, Sartrenianism, Camusianism, Millerism, Beatlesism, peace and love, rebellion, and a refusal to agree with those who started world wars [one had to spit against prevailing ideas]. My adulthood has been marked by a responsibility that I have no intention of evading. I dedicated nearly thirty years of my life to one of the oldest, venerable, and never senile Venezuelan universities with clerical origins. I am now in a "legally retired" position, but I still maintain a certain presence on its premises.

• "The Art of Writing as a Ritual Act: Conversation with Author Alberto Jiménez Ure" by Juan Carlos Vásquez. Excerpt. Fragment of the interview conducted in Spanish.

• Illustration: Jaufré Rudel "Sur le quiais, musée des Beaux-Arts de Bordeaux, mai-juin 2009.

[juancarlosvasquez]

Tenderloin (San Francisco)

Walking dead,

crawling naked in a love parade,

the return of ambulances

on roadless paths,

when I'm on the verge of blissful highs

I yearn for

caresses,

to lull me to sleep

in the night,

six months have slipped away

among incense over graves,

and a celestial restlessness,

visions of Jupiter compacted into pipes.

This face cannot be mine,

the face of Sunday

at noon.

If it weren't noon

and had I something to do,

these damn ambulance sirens

wouldn't torment me

with their regrets.

How do I reclaim, with punches,

the street's tranquility?

How do I demolish, with an axe,

the memories in my veins

without submerging in a tub

to masturbate?

There's a putrid smell of beer,

so romantic yet so pathetic,

Ideas of escape linger,

along with enduring words.

If I had a dog, its barking

would convince me, but I have no dog,

only nights that bring me joy in contempt,

and instead of protesting,

everything pushes me

towards terrible and sorrowful laughter.

© Juan Carlos Vásquez

© Photo by Mitchell Funk

[juancarlosvasquez]

Ways

After I Jumping,

I May regret and wish to return to the platform,

Too late Falling, Falling.

After falling, A whip splits my spine,

all that I was in life is but a silhouette marked

by a chalk outline.

And what if I shot myself ?

The Index in its depth

feeling all the weight,

these spasms like dread discharges

to turn out the light, a night of brains blown out.

And what if it were a noose pulling tight around my neck?

The air leaving, the eyes bulging, blood bypassing the head,

memories calling,

painting the face red as a distorted Carnival Clown.

For this last trip

dragging with great effort

the fragile combination of nerves

urging in a swell of spasm in exact coordinates.

For this last trip

the toung uncoiling like a serpant

an afertaste on the palate

of life's last juice,

the veins bursting like fragile glass

scattering throughout the Universe.

To sleep forever

dreaming of life

a deaf and dark night always arrives

plundering the body

full of Love.

© Juan Carlos Vásquez

Imagen by Vergvoktre

[juancarlosvasquez]

"Beginning and End: Wards Island"

The deliberations began long before December 20, 1999, which was when I realized that my desperation to travel was unsustainable. But December 20 is the date I remember.

That day I turned twenty-six, and it was also the day J.C.A called to propose a trip to Tampa Bay.

I had always had that restlessness to see the world, to go to the most emblematic places, but until that moment, I had not been able to make the decision.

The idea of New York contributed to generating the momentum. Florida was a big step, the first one. Then the back and forth, then the reminders. Going back to childhood, from the present to the past, from the present to the idea of the future, and vice versa, until embarking on the adventure.

Halfway there are hundreds of anecdotes: joys, disappointments, dangerous nostalgia.

That's how I met several people on the way with whom, under normal circumstances, I would never have had contact. Occasionally—as long as the feat predominates, this possibility will exist, it is only necessary to remain exposed in a perpetual search.

And I always dream, often when I do, I wake up startled. Then I go back to bed and, while waiting for my heart to stabilize, I start meditating on the unusual magical power of desire.

However, risk also attracts horrible sediments, which becomes even more atrocious because those moments, without having lived them, also become reality, and that's where Wards Island becomes relevant.

What I glimpsed through the glass of the night takes on a superhuman dimension. The road, the people, they seem surrounded by a halo. I am inside my own nightmare: if I don't succeed, the dream will come late, or it may not come at all.

I make a call, but no one responds, I have to try to free myself from the first and great obstacle...

At that point, my own complaint wakes me up and I realize. It is a real scene, not just a daydream in a child's brain.

• As a result of this experience, I wrote a book titled "Wards Island: The Dark Side of New York." It is currently being translated.

• Photo: New York City officials slammed the unsafe conditions at Clarke Thomas Men’s Shelter on Wards Island. James Messerschmidt for NY Post.

[juancarlosvasquez]

• Linktr.ee 'Sitio de autor' • Vueltas, delirios, elementos de la memoria - JC's English Corner