miércoles, 5 de marzo de 2025

 Quotes by Dan Fante 

“I think my strength comes from being an insane drunk. Near death. Wanting death like a lover every day for years. My talent comes from madness - having survived madness.”

“We're fat, we're greedy, and we don't give a shit. Our religion is TV. Our saviour is Bill Gates. We've learned our lessons well. We know how to put number one first.”

“My secret weapon is my anger. That's what stimulates me as an artist. I want change. I want it yesterday. I'm pissed off at America. Society. American movies. American TV. American culture. American politicians. Capitalism. I'm a little like my old man in that way only I'm a recovered drunk. He wasn't. I should have been dead years ago like my brother but somehow I dodged the bullet and it gave me something to say. Impatience and rage are always just beneath the surface for me.”

“I was a degenerate, with an insatiable capacity for perversion. Incapable of change. I could do anything except not drink.”

“...man can survive ...he can kill and be twisted and broken and desperate and insane and fuck barnyard pets in the dark and wear a dress if he chooses, and hate and destroy everything that's beautiful, and wish for death for himself and others with every breath, and still be a perfect child of God.”

“All American politicians are bought and paid for by American lobbyists. We no longer have representative government here. We breed monsters like Kissinger and Nixon and Ronnie Reagan. Our senate and congress are run by pay-offs and special interest money. And the fun part is that most Americans are asleep about it. Give 'em a new SUV and a good J-Lo or Tom Cruise kung-fu flick and a few jolly abortion clinic bombing news clips on the six o'clock news and everybody seems to stay content. Wasn't it Churchill that said any society gets exactly the government it deserves?”

“Dear God: Please help me to know what the fuck to do with my life and how to fix it.”

“Organized religion is horseshit. Spirituality -- the spirituality that I've come to know and experience -- has nothing to do with religion. Were it not for my relationship with a God of my experience I would be dead. Actually I did die. Now I'm this other guy with a pencil in one hand and a bullhorn in the other.”

“no wonder i let queers suck my cock”

“The British are civilized. People still read and some conversations can be interesting. By contrast American are fat and stupid and so thoroughly brain-blurred and over-sold by our culture that there's a numbing, unapologetic, arrogance and desperation about us. In fact, I've just defined the perfect consumer.”

“What I want to say here is that there is a place beyond control and beyond concern that people can go, where the values and the needs of everyday life change completely. Where what matters is moment-to-moment survival to avoid mind pain.”


“The passion has never left me. I live as two people - myself, Dan Fante, and Bruno Dante or Mickey Di Salvo, or whoever I say I am in one of my books. I can tap that Bruno character any time I need to. He lives inside me like a quiet, simmering pool of magma. Years ago I stopped feeding him with booze and he was kind enough to stop trying to kill me. That's our truce.”


“My dad, the man I loved most in the world, a man who refused to compromise himself for anyone, the man who had showed me by example what it was like to be a true artist, was gone. We had become a loving father and son after a rocky thirty-year start. John Fante’s gift to me was his ambition, his brilliance, and his pure writer’s heart. He had begun life with a drunken, self-hating father, backing out of the hell of poverty and prejudice. Now he was ending it as the best example of courage and humility I had ever known. John Fante was my hero.”

“There is an immutable law that wherever cops congregate, more cops must join in.”

“Praizzzze Geeezus!”

“Quitting booze is one thing. Living with my brain sober is another.”

“On the street, on my way to the store, I had an insight, a flash that penetrated my understanding. My real difficulty—my problem—wasn’t my depressions or my drinking or my job failures or even the unarticulated fear that I was a fucking insane whack. My problem was people. And they were located everywhere”

“One day at a time. Fake it ’til you make it.”

“Because I have to treat the mental part of my disease. Quitting booze is one thing. Living with my brain sober is another.”

“Nothing equals a good dump. To my way of thinking taking a decent shit is a life-affirming experience.”

“This nonsense about writers who are boozers and conceive their best work while half-jacked is simply crap. No writer can write drunk. It’s impossible.”

“Fake it ’til you make it.”


Tomadas de Goodreads.

Cuando, a la edad de cuarenta y cinco años,
empecé a escribir seriamente,
había estado tres años sin beber alcohol
y finalmente podía sentarme solo en un cuarto sin un intento
 de suicidio

me puse un objetivo —una página al día
llegaba a la casa de mi mamá de la reunión del mediodía de
 Alcohólicos Anónimos
y escribía mi página diaria

buena, mala o indiferente

así es cómo empecé
una página al día
todo lo que tenía a mi nombre era mi rabia
y la vieja y temperamental Smith-Corona portátil de mi padre

nada más —nada que perder
sin apartamento
sin perspectivas de trabajo
un pedazo de mierda de coche usado de siete cilindros
cincuenta dólares a la semana como limosna de mi mamá

y
mi imaginación
y
un deseo —de ser un buen escritor

ahora —once años después— nadie puede callarme


Dan Fante (Los Ángeles, 1944 - 2015)

Traducción de Juan Arabia.

Distinguir
entre el agua de una sopa
y el agua de un charco. De chico
papá me llevó a ver un campo
de práctica: vestidos con ropa camuflada
y la escopeta de caño doble. Me pregunto
donde habrá ido a parar esa escopeta.
Si me pusieran en la rueda gigante
de un parque de diversiones.
Alplax, Thorazine, un pañal, sonda
directa al esófago.
Los especialistas
disputando mi cadáver. Restaurar
la fábrica desierta de la memoria.
Distinguir
entre una bicicleta
y un batallón del Séptimo Regimiento. Entre el reporte meteorológico
y la voz de mamá. Reemplazarlo
por una reproducción a escala de sí mismo.
Reemplazarlo
por un cartelito con su nombre. De los muertos
queda una nítida huella en mi sistema digestivo.
¿De unos zapatos en un basural?
¿Del chasis oxidado de un auto?

Luciano Lamberti (San Francisco, Córdoba - 1978)

Poema inédito del libro "Crash dammies". 
Extraído del blog Las afinidades electivas - Las elecciones afectivas. 
Año 2006.

miércoles, 19 de febrero de 2025

El secuestro

Manicomio es palabra mucho más grande
que las oscuras vorágines del sueño,
aun así en aquella época llegaba alguna vez
una porción de azul o un canto
lejano de ruiseñor o se entreabría
tu boca mordiendo el azul
el feroz engaño de la vida.

Alda Merini (Milán, 1931 - 2009)

La familia

Nací el veintiuno en primavera
pero no sabía que nacer loca
abrir la tierra
podía desencadenar una tormenta.

Alda Merini (Milán, 1931 - 2009)

El amor

Tu recuerdo es un pétalo 
que se posa en el corazón
y lo alborota.
Adiós, como cada noche,
más allá de las fracturas hay un cadáver 
exigido con voces,
parece un fragmento de eutanasia,
pero tú me matas como siempre, amor,
y vuelves a abrir mis yacimientos inagotables.
Los sepulcros de Foscolo, los adioses
de ciertas manos que no están enterradas
y emergen en vano de la nada
pidiendo justicia para las palabras.

Alda Merini (Milán, 1931 - 2009)
El dolor

Abismo oscuro, deflagración,
chispa que remueve el pasado,
tobillos que se rompen
por correr detrás de ti, dolor,
tú eres la liebre viva
que mis manos conocen 
desde la infancia.

Alda Merini (Milán, 1931 - 2009)