Entrevista en la revista Cala Millor 7.

Entrevista en la revista Cala Millor 7.

Versión en castellano:

De las Ciencias Políticas al Fotoperiodismo.

Tu perché non hai più scritto un libro?

“Quando sono arrivato a Roma, a 26 anni, sono precipitato abbastanza presto, quasi senza rendermene conto, in quello che potrebbe essere definito “il vortice della mondanità”. Ma io non volevo essere semplicemente un mondano. Volevo diventare il re dei mondani. Io non volevo solo partecipare alle feste. Volevo avere il potere di farle fallire”

(Jep Gambardella, La Grande Bellezza)

We’ll take the cake with the red cherry on top.

Jesse: Let’s say that you and I were together all the time, then you’d start to hate a lot of my mannerisms. The way every time we would have people over, uh, I’d be insecure, and I’d get a little too drunk. Or, uh, the way I’d tell the same stupid pseudo-intellectual story again, and again. Y’see, I’ve heard all those stories. So of course I’m sick of myself. But being with you, uh, it’s made me feel like I’m somebody else.

(Before Sunrise)

Chaos is order yet undeciphered.

Adam Bell: «Control! It’s all about control. Every dictatorship has one obsession. And that’s it. So in ancient Rome… They gave the people bread and circuses. They kept the populace busy with entertainment. But other dictatorships use other, other strategies… to control ideas, knowledge. How do they do that? Lower education… they limit culture… censor information… they censor any means of individual expression. And it’s important to remember this, that… this is a pattern… that repeats itself throughout history.»

(Enemy)

Part of the Weekend Never Dies

Tony Wilson: And tonight something equally epoch-making is taking place. See? They’re applauding the DJ. Not the music, not the musician, not the creator, but the medium. This is it. The birth of rave culture. The beatification of the beat. The dance age. This is the moment when even the white man starts dancing. Welcome to Manchester.

(24 Hour Party People)

It’s not what you know, it’s what you can prove.

Roger: Here’s a joke, boy. One day this man walks out of his house to go to work. He sees this snail on his porch. So he picks it up and chucks it over his roof, into the back yard. Snail bounces off a rock, cracks its shell all to shit, and lands in the grass. Snail lies there dying. But it doesn’t die. It eats some grass. Slowly heals. Grows a new shell. And after a while it can crawl again. One day the snail up and heads back to the front of the house. Finally, after a year, the little guy crawls back on the porch. Right then, the man walks out to go to work and sees this snail again. So he says to it, ‘What the fuck’s your problem?’

Jake Hoyt: That’s messed up. That wasn’t funny.

Alonzo Harris: Then why are you cackling like a jackal?

Jake Hoyt: I dunno.

Roger: Figure that joke out and you’ll figure the streets out.

(Training Day)

Living like this is a full-time business.

“Moonlight knew no colors and traced the contours of the terrain only very softly. It covered the land a dirty gray, strangling life all night long. This world molded in lead, where nothing moved but the wind that fell sometimes like a shadow over the gray forests, and where nothing lived but the scent of the naked earth, was the only world he accepted, for it was much like the world of his soul.”

(Patrick Süskind, Perfume: The Story of a Murderer)

By morning, you’ll be gone.

Clementine: This is it, Joel. It’s going to be gone soon.
Joel: I know.
Clementine: What do we do?
Joel: Enjoy it.

(Eternal Sunshine Of The Spotless Mind)

In the end, everything is a gag.

Reporter: Jude! One word for your fans?

Jude: Astronaut.

(I’m not there)

PS: British band Rudimental and its fans during a concert in Sónar Barcelona. The West London quartet is formed of no less than 12 musicians, MC’s, organs, synthesizers, guitars, percussion and MPCs. Barcelona, Saturday 14th June.

I was a battleground of fear and curiosity.

“For that moment I touched an emotion beyond the common range of men, yet one the poor brutes we dominate know only too well. I felt as a rabbit might feel returning to his burrow, and suddenly confronted by the work of a dozen busy navies digging the foundations of a house. I felt the first inkling of a thing that presently grew quite clear in my mind, that oppressed me for many days, a sense of dethronement, a persuasion that I was no longer master, but an animal among animals; under the Martian heel.”

(H.G. Wells, The War of the Worlds)