Federico plays, La Argentinita sings, and the poem below is beautifully read. El poeta pide a su amor que le escriba Amor de mis entrañas, viva muerte En vano espero tu palabra escrita Y pienso, con la flor que se marchita, Que si vivo sin mí quiero perderte. El aire es inmortal. La piedra inerte. … More Tantas Veces Federico
The bed of the salad is baby spinach, tossed with basalmic vinaigrette and chopped garlic. The shrimp salad that you ultimately toss with it is initially marinated and chilled for an hour in white wine vinaigrette. The salad is composed of the following: 1 large ripe tomato, sliced and the slices halved 1 large ripe … More Shrimp Salad with Two Dressings
It is the weekend, so we must sing! This is Lila Downs. Axé.
* (Despite reports that the amount of oil the gulf is decreasing, the number of oiled birds found daily has increased since BP capped the well, according to the Times-Picayune). Axé.
The entire film seems to be on line; this is the last part. Axé.
…[He aquí que veréis en mis versos princesas, reyes, cosas imperiales, visiones de países lejanos o imposibles: ¡qué queréis!, yo detesto la vida y el tiempo en que me tocó nacer; y a un presidente de República no podré saludarle en el idioma en que te cantaría a ti, ¡oh Halagabal! de cuya corte -oro, … More Prosas profanas
It is still the weekend, so we must sing; this is El Cascabel, a famous son jarocho. Songs like this are sung especially at Candlemas in Tlacotalpan, Veracruz, on the river Papaloapan. I would like to go there. This travel writer says Tlacotalpan is “where Mexico is perfect,” and recommends we stay in the Posada … More Son de Madera
We went to Lafayette, to a benefit for the Gulf Restoration Network, and saw D. L. Menard. We went in through the front door, so as to pay the cover charge, which was the point. To get there, we burned fossil fuels; that is why we had to leave dedans la porte en arrière. You, … More Gulf Restoration with D. L. Menard
I found this place by chance; then it got written up. Here is Gilberto Bosques, in conversation with Elena Poniatowska, on watching British planes come in at night over southern France, en route to Germany during the second world war. Look at the prose he speaks: Muchas veces no bajé, en la noche era un … More Casa Refugio Citlaltépetl
Last night I found out too late about the death of Carlos Monsiváis to go to the wake, and did not know how public the event was, anyway, although it was announced in the papers. Now, again by reading the papers too late, I know one could have gone to the wake; there was also … More Museo Nacional de San Carlos
coldhearted scientist وداد 