It's not #NYFW or #PFW but lets talk about the sporty stylings of my peers at the gym - the meat factory - the booty sculpting center.
Michelangelo said the artist only releases the sculpture within. That's what the dedicated instructors of the Pottruck Athletic Center do with less chisel and more (ab) ripping.
It has been nearly a month since I was last on the internet airwaves. The sandstorm tides. The sun-setting sunrise. But I'm back because there's a sense I'm holding a match upside down and the flame is awfully close to the bottom of my fingers.
Picture three store categories. One Cindycitric, one CitySporty and the other, Diego's closet.
The first is where you go to overpay and get average quality. The flavor is in the aftertaste, the knowledge that you are shopping where all the pretty people shop and that if you can squeeze into one of those tiny little things you either have the body of a goddess (or an Adonis - the asymmetrical counterpart to goddess in this example). Or that you have a body that fits in anything and you shouldn't be working out but buttering down.
The second is where you go to overpay and get high quality. The flavor is in the body of the wine. That is to say, the entrance is dry and the exit is flavorless but when you swirl it around you can bask in the fact that you are a serious athlete - you are not sporty - you are fit. You worry about how you feet fall on the asphalt and are seriously considering snug Vibram. You look good but no nonsense. Charcoal is the new black and Vogue finally got one right. Not that you would read anything other Fitness.
The last is cheap. It's handmedownish. It's whatever your closet has, t-shirts and basketball shorts you - who said you can't work out in cotton? You might be struggling to keep your motivation, be trying to work out for the first time or do it only occasionally. You understand that you don't have to run the elliptical on the first floor to be seen. Leave that for the club or the coffee house. You are also, like me, not in shape.
But you're getting there.
Saturday, February 26, 2011
Tuesday, February 8, 2011
Abroad in the United States
I'm planning on collecting my thoughts, essays and ideas from the last six years into a pseudo compilation of sorts. A sort of greatest hits to date with an additional thought interspersed here and there relating to my overall experiences of the last eon.
There is a tangible need in my mind to put my words to old-world type, Benjamin Franklin styled printing press. The kind of ink that is now less permanent that what I write right now.
In the spirit of my fellow computer scientists and perhaps to (if there are any) avid readers still left out there eating up the meandering mind of a 20something year old from Mexico in the United States with a clear interest in Magritte, cooking, the saxophone and simple bar food - I want to start my own crowdsourcing experiment.
I don't wish to crowd source my writing. For most of it is so esoteric only a natural language learning machines (the computers that mad scientists in the basements of labs are trying to teach English to. A noble yet complicated task if you stop for a second to consider the varied constructions in normal speech, the effect of inflection, puns and slang as well as a myriad of modifying factors). I do wish to crowd source opinion, which, if my fifth of century of experience affords me, people are always willing to give.
It's advice that's harder to come by. But my father always said that advice is meant for two types of people. The silly people who won't follow it or the wise people who won't need it.
So what am I asking?
Tell me what your favorite piece I've written is. Private message me, comment on this piece or comment on the piece you liked with the words "LIKE".
I'll end by explaining that there is a Latin American version of California girls (or is it Sweet Home Alabama?) - ie a song that whenever it comes on at a bar or a party you can count on most everyone enjoying it and even more people singing it. It's title Musica Ligera and literally translated it means lightweight music. Figuratively speaking it talks about a style of music meant to sweep over you, hug you and tuck you into bed with a feeling of accomplishment and happiness. The singers end the song with Gracias Totales.
A complete thank you, a visceral thanks, a thank god for your existence.
And so I hope to end my book.
There is a tangible need in my mind to put my words to old-world type, Benjamin Franklin styled printing press. The kind of ink that is now less permanent that what I write right now.
In the spirit of my fellow computer scientists and perhaps to (if there are any) avid readers still left out there eating up the meandering mind of a 20something year old from Mexico in the United States with a clear interest in Magritte, cooking, the saxophone and simple bar food - I want to start my own crowdsourcing experiment.
I don't wish to crowd source my writing. For most of it is so esoteric only a natural language learning machines (the computers that mad scientists in the basements of labs are trying to teach English to. A noble yet complicated task if you stop for a second to consider the varied constructions in normal speech, the effect of inflection, puns and slang as well as a myriad of modifying factors). I do wish to crowd source opinion, which, if my fifth of century of experience affords me, people are always willing to give.
It's advice that's harder to come by. But my father always said that advice is meant for two types of people. The silly people who won't follow it or the wise people who won't need it.
So what am I asking?
Tell me what your favorite piece I've written is. Private message me, comment on this piece or comment on the piece you liked with the words "LIKE".
I'll end by explaining that there is a Latin American version of California girls (or is it Sweet Home Alabama?) - ie a song that whenever it comes on at a bar or a party you can count on most everyone enjoying it and even more people singing it. It's title Musica Ligera and literally translated it means lightweight music. Figuratively speaking it talks about a style of music meant to sweep over you, hug you and tuck you into bed with a feeling of accomplishment and happiness. The singers end the song with Gracias Totales.
A complete thank you, a visceral thanks, a thank god for your existence.
And so I hope to end my book.
Thursday, February 3, 2011
Hidalgo
Ya basta!
Esto lo han dicho mejor que yo otras personas, personas con mayor estatus económico, social, político. No menciono la educación porque eso nada mas sirve para algo si se busca ser presidente y para eso, todavía me faltan unos años, unas canas y muy poquitas ganas.
¡Ya basta!
ice que el pueblo está cansado de la violencia en mi país (México). Que si no son granadas, son paros o son toques de queda los que tienen a la población de civiles completamente azorados o amarrados por la violencia.
Lo que sucede en Egipto es una indicación de como suceden las revoluciones. Es el pueblo el que le reclama al gobierno. El problema es que en México no se sabe a quién pedirle, si a papa (el gobierno) o mama (los narcos). Mama controla el dinero, las armas, el poder y a papa. Papa controla... pues controla los edificios bonitos como palacio - muy convenientemente a dos cuadras de Tepito - y los Pinos. Y nosotros, los niños, a quien le pedimos permiso?
Se tiene que entender que una revolución,-- seamos honestos--, es lo que se necesita, puede no ser entre la gente y el gobierno. Puede ser entre la gente. Sería una guerra civil - para librarnos de los narcos - y una revolución - para librarnos de los políticos. El caso está en que una marcha pacífica en el centro de la ciudad no va a servir más que para aturdir a los automovilistas y a los transeúntes. El día que dejemos de ver al narco como persona y lo veamos como el perro de la casa es el día que nos vamos a atrever a llevarlo al veterinario para que lo pongan a dormir.
No soy cura, ni estoy calvo, pero quiero que esto sirva como mi grito y campanada para un mejor amanecer.
Esto lo han dicho mejor que yo otras personas, personas con mayor estatus económico, social, político. No menciono la educación porque eso nada mas sirve para algo si se busca ser presidente y para eso, todavía me faltan unos años, unas canas y muy poquitas ganas.
¡Ya basta!
ice que el pueblo está cansado de la violencia en mi país (México). Que si no son granadas, son paros o son toques de queda los que tienen a la población de civiles completamente azorados o amarrados por la violencia.
Lo que sucede en Egipto es una indicación de como suceden las revoluciones. Es el pueblo el que le reclama al gobierno. El problema es que en México no se sabe a quién pedirle, si a papa (el gobierno) o mama (los narcos). Mama controla el dinero, las armas, el poder y a papa. Papa controla... pues controla los edificios bonitos como palacio - muy convenientemente a dos cuadras de Tepito - y los Pinos. Y nosotros, los niños, a quien le pedimos permiso?
Se tiene que entender que una revolución,-- seamos honestos--, es lo que se necesita, puede no ser entre la gente y el gobierno. Puede ser entre la gente. Sería una guerra civil - para librarnos de los narcos - y una revolución - para librarnos de los políticos. El caso está en que una marcha pacífica en el centro de la ciudad no va a servir más que para aturdir a los automovilistas y a los transeúntes. El día que dejemos de ver al narco como persona y lo veamos como el perro de la casa es el día que nos vamos a atrever a llevarlo al veterinario para que lo pongan a dormir.
No soy cura, ni estoy calvo, pero quiero que esto sirva como mi grito y campanada para un mejor amanecer.
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