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October 08 SAVE THE MOTHER EARTH... BE THE RAIN...June 09 THE UNFORGETTABLE PARTY"Yes, this is a great party and we are the host..." Jim Brown, a strong and mature gentleman, said to himself. "My God, lot of people had gathered around to welcome us!" He exclaimed in his thoughts while watching the yard from the second floor window of his parents’ house. There were, in the courtyard, many people talking and laughing. They all were relatives and friends. "As soon as my wife and daughter arrive at we’ll come out to the yard to greet them" Jim said to himself, looking at his watch, who had headed to his family to coordinate the arriving arrangements. Then he began to recognize everybody and started babbling each one of the attendees’ names, besides the precise relationship that united with them. "John, Peter, Charles, Mary... -and he stopped to go on mentioning names-… My Goodness!... –he exclaimed-… almost everyone from my school’s Promo is here... and so the teachers!" "Robert!... My older brother, you don’t know how much I missed you since you left us" Jim whispered watching him at the corner of the yard very busy with the barbecue grill. He also saw several children who he didn’t recognize, playing in the pool. His parents and his wife’s parents were there also. They were supervising and directing the waiters that everything was in order, as planned. Also, from time to time, they welcomed the newcomers and talk to them briefly until they felt comfortable in the party. Suddenly his father turned his head and looked at the window of the second floor, exactly where he was watching it, and their eyes met at the distance. It was like a muted sign because Jim felt that his wife and daughter were about to come. Jim came down the stairs and went to the porch of the house to receive them. He didn’t have to wait a bit because he saw not faraway a white and radiant limousine coming home, which then it parked just a front the house. His wife, Sophia, and her daughter, Sophia Beatriz, got off from the limo and as always they amazed to Jim with their beauty and aura of energy. Jim who was smiling and eager to meet them opened his arms. "They are waiting for us in the yard!" Jim said while was taking both ladies from their waist and the duo started to walk at each sides of him. "Mom got late in the Beauty shop!" Sophia Beatriz complained and apologized. The patio’s door got wide open and the happy trio made their triumphal appearance being acclaimed by all. Yes, there were many people. It would be better say: a crowd; because beside his family and close friends there were also the baker, the milk deliverer, the paperboy, the meat market butcher, the Chinese man from the corner liquor store, many neighbors... Yes, many, many people shearing just an exceptional detail: Everyone looked young and healthy, with no worries that disrupt their smiling faces. Without a doubt, this would be the unforgettable party of the Brown family, which evens the memory for those who stayed on earth crying, would disrupt the celebrating welcome to his everlasting happiness. April 15 THE BUSA new and blue sky color bus was going down by the highway that united the suburbs cities with another one very big: Los Angeles.
The bus was almost full; just two of its seats were free.
The driver, a thin man of pale and serious face, with their eyes staring the highway, didn't pay attention to the interesting conversation of his passengers. And neither the revel noise of those from behind. And without any rush, he drove the bus at safe speed.
Suddenly, when the bus turned at a road corner, the driver saw not far ahead a bunch of cars and people blocking part of the road. He immediately put on in guard and began to reduce the speed of the bus. Yes, it was an accident.
When the bus was near to the fatidic place the passenger heard the people's laments and everyone in the bus, curious, paid attention and looked by the windows.
"Poor creatures…"
"It was to protect his pet."
"I swear that I couldn’t do anything. They both entered unexpectedly to the highway, I braked but I couldn’t avoid it."
It was all they got, because cars and people were blocking their view.
The driver of the bus made a slow turn to avoid the tumult at the same time that it satisfied the morbid curiosity of his passengers. The bus advanced some more meters and stopped at the edge of the highway. Then the driver pressed a button located in the control board, between the lighter and the radio, and the hydraulic door of the bus opened up.
There, beside the highway and in front of the open door it was standing a smiling boy, carrying in his arms his pet, a "Chiguagua” dog. The boy got up to the bus and sat down in the free seat, putting to his side, on the other sit, his lovely and unquiet doggy.
"We are complete!" The driver of the blue sky color bus announced closing the door and, increasing the speed, it despairs in the smog of the long highway heading to Los Angeles.
Copyright, Michaelangelo Barnez, 2009 January 23 Peter Nobody“What’s your first name?” “Peter” “And your last name?” “Nobody” “What?” Exclaimed the journalist. Hello, my name is Peter and I’ve got the nickname of “Nobody” for two reasons. One, it was because at the age of seven years old, when my mother died, the pimp who pretended to be as my father thrown me out to the street. Why? He needed the room where we used to live in to continue with his business. And second, because just that year a Spanish song, “Peter Nobody”, of a certain argentine singer named as Piero, was a hit. Yes, at that tender age I was a no nobody’s son … Peter Nobody. Saying, “I’m a street boy”, it’s just a phrase or an empty expression, which means nothing for those who don't know what is like to be an abandoned boy. I strolled for years and slept in the bleakness of streets until… Did somebody rescue me? No, but until I became a teen. My only “friends” were other kids like me with whom we organized our gang to be able to survive, which means to steal everyday the every day’s bread. We couldn’t make it against stronger people than us, as you will be able to imagine. So I learned and I developed inside me the street code behavior. And the first hint that I got in my mind was that we should only attack to the weakest. Therefore I only assault and steal old women and men, pregnant women or with the baby in their arms, blind men or lame beggars, or defenseless rich kids too. That was the way I learned how to take care of myself. It’s not a waste of time to tell you that my life wasn’t an amusing adventure, by no means, but a terrible misfortune that marked me forever. That night, as soon as I arrived to the group, the older kids raped me. And they repeated it as many times as they wanted, until I learned how to use my knife, and I stabbed one to make myself respect. The coldness and heat of my street life hardened the skin of my body, but also for the beatings that I took from my own friends. Others times for the fights against enemy bands, or when I fell caught for my victims or the police. I learned, from that tender age, that if somebody came closer to me and lifted his hand it was to attack me or to molest me. Same as the priest of the church did in exchange of a plate of food and a roof to sleep. But he didn’t imagine that my self-defense intuition was already shaped and at the first dirty pawed “I sliced” his face with my inseparable and faithful friend, my knife. Later, when my needs grew up, means to drug me, we begin to steal bigger people because we needed more money. It was when I began to stand out in the group for my cruelty. I attacked without mercy to anyone, without caring me the disadvantages for their size or stoutness. With the only advantage that gave me to I stab them first, and then, when they screamed seeing their own blood, my gang assaulted him. It was this way how I became the leader of the gang, but, undoubtedly, I had “to take down” the boss first in a clean fight, surrounded by all and under the moonlight. In the fight, after I received several cuts on the arms, the ‘son of a bitch’ falls in my trap when I pretended to be weakest to mislead him. He trusted on the street code, when I faked tumble down. He believed that it was the right moment to finish with me, and when he lifted his arm to give me the final stab, I stabbed him first right in his nuts… Did he die? I don't know and we neither cared, because we left him on the ground. We walked away to the beach to celebrate with a bag full of glue that we inhaled to feel happy and to avoid the coldness. That way I became the leader and we didn’t know any more about him. Ah, it is not a waste of time to remark that it was him who had led to whom raped me the night when I arrived to the group. At the age of 12 years old I already had my own gang, the one that nobody gave me as a gift but I won for my dexterity with the knife and my cruelty. But suddenly something began to change in me at that age, something that I could not explain, and I didn't have anybody to ask. My voice changed, hair covered my pubis and I began to dream. It was exactly the moment when a 10 years old girl and her little brother arrived to the group, and in the night the gang wanted to rape her. The rape to newcomers was a natural matter for all of us, for our code, being boy or girl, there was not difference, we had passed through it as a baptism, but it wasn’t for me. “Nobody touch her damned!!!… -I roared, and I took out to glitter my knife -… and anyone that gets near to her I’ll stab to death!!!” “Ok, ok Peter… It’s ok bro… If you want her only for you, it’s ok,” the one that pretend to be my second one in the band said despite being bigger than me. “Fuck none!!!… From now on not more baptisms in my gang!” That night I went to sleep away of the group, and I hidden among the darkness I cried. In the coldness of my cardboards and clothes bed I remembered my mother and the last teacher that I had in the school. I remembered that we used to live in a piece of shit hotel room. But it was my home, where my mother made my meals, loved me and at the bedtime she tucked me saying: “Little Peter, my sonny boy, dreams with angels”. Therefore that night I cried, I cried as I’d never done it all this years, and among my tears I remembered my school’s friends, my teachers and my games… And I missed them all. Luckily, I learned to read in the school. Since I lived on the street and I slept in the landfills, I read as much as I could do it. So, I devour with my eyes any piece of newspapers or stories for children every time they fall in my hands. Therefore, the next day that I forbid the rapes I began to teach reading to my close friends, of course that it was after the assaults. What would you think or expected from a delinquents boy as me? Do I have food and roof free? No, I learned that everything has a price in the life and that I have to get it myself in the only way the society has taught me. And I warn to anyone that comes closer to me with the lifted hand, to hit me or to caress me, it will receive a cut in the face… or maybe more. “Hey, if you wanna talk me… make it from a distance, asshole!!!… Otherwise, I cut your neck mother’s fuc#*& …!” “To be continuing…?” the journalist asked. “What should we do?” I ask you.
November 20 ThanksgivingThis one has been around for a while, in many ways... As Thanksgiving is just around the corner it's worth another go around…
A young man named John received a parrot named 'Chief' as a gift. The parrot had a bad attitude and an even worse vocabulary. Every word out of the bird's mouth was rude, obnoxious and laced with profanity. Finally, John was fed up and he yelled at the parrot. The parrot yelled back. John shook the parrot and the parrot got angrier and even ruder. John, in desperation, threw up his hand, grabbed the bird and put him in the freezer. For a few minutes the parrot squawked and kicked and screamed. Then suddenly there was total quiet. Not a peep was heard for over a minute. The parrot calmly stepped out onto John's outstretched arms and sadly said:
September 19 AYAHUASCA… THE WEDDINGIt is important to me to make a statement about the video “AYAHUASCA… THE WEDDING” I will begin saying emphatically that this is not the traditional ceremony of the wedding consecrated by the Ayahuasca of our Amazon natives. We are just children of the western culture that we feel a deep respect for our mother nature, and in her to all their creatures, included ourselves; and we wanted to consecrate a relationship of love with the Ayahuasca. In general, a wedding is a symbolic act. It is a public demonstration of the declaration of love of a couple that decides to take a great step forward and to be united, in body and soul, for a lifetime. Of course, a wedding is not the indispensable requirement for that declaration and to assume such a responsibility. Those ceremonies have been carried out since immemorial times under different customs and religions, all of them respectable and genuine if the main ingredient were present: The Love. Our guests, Andrea and Alí, came to Peru along with my son's family Miguel Junior, his wife Crystal and his daughter AnaKalia, to visit Cuzco; impressed by so many histories that I told them about the Incas since we immigrate to California in the 80's. Andrea and Alí were already in love when they arrived in Peru coming from Long Beach, California, the last May, 2008. Also, in theirs minds and heart were already the idea that their relationship could go beyond of being just lovers, although there was not yet the purpose of a marriage. It was the magic of the Inca’s sacred sanctuary, Macchu Picchu and its energy vibrations, that bewitched the couple for a blessing on their lives; and when they returned to Lima they told me their desire to make it publish in a ceremony: The Wedding. The arrangements were quick and simple, since what prevailed in them was assuming that level of responsibility and love to which they were desirous of committing their lives and their future. My identification with the preservation of the nature and my deepest respect for the teachings of our ethnic roots made me proposed spontaneously to them a wedding consecrated with the Ayahuasca. Proposal that it was accepted, perhaps with some adventurous curiosity from them, but even so during the ceremony and the drink of some drops of Ayahuasca, they were able to let it out that torrent of emotions of love, fondness and happiness, that you all will be able to see it in the video. Moreover, all those that we were present were not only mere witness of a formal ceremony, but rather we felt, shared and absorbed the energy of emotions that the couple emanated. Yes, to carry out the Wedding was the consequence of many fortuitous facts. Alí is like a son for me since many years ago, they both met the perfect partner, Andrea and Alí, their coming to Peru, the spontaneous and abrupt desire of marrying, and also, my great friendship with the well-known Shamán ayahuasquero, Ronald Rivera, made possible this Wedding… Enjoy it. Michaelangelo Barnez August 16 WILLIAM FAULKNER'S SPEECH AT THE NOBEL BANQUET...WILLIAM FAULKNER'S SPEECH AT THE NOBEL BANQUET... In English, Y Español.
WILLIAM FAULKNER'S SPEECH AT THE NOBEL BANQUET AT THE CITY HALL IN STOCKHOLM, DECEMBER 10, 1950
I feel that this award was not made to me as a man, but to my work - a life's work in the agony and sweat of the human spirit, not for glory and least of all for profit, but to create out of the materials of the human spirit something which did not exist before. So this award is only mine in trust. It will not be difficult to find a dedication for the money part of it commensurate with the purpose and significance of its origin. But I would like to do the same with the acclaim too, by using this moment as a pinnacle from which I might be listened to by the young men and women already dedicated to the same anguish and travail, among whom is already that one who will some day stand here where I am standing.
* The speech was apparently revised by the author for publication in The Faulkner Reader. These minor changes, all of which improve the address stylistically have been incorporated here.
William Faulkner - Discurso de aceptación en la entrega del Premio Nóbel de Literatura, 1950.
Siento que este premio me ha sido otorgado, no a mí como persona, sino a mi trabajo: a una vida de trabajo en la agonía y el sudor del espíritu humano, no en procura de gloria y menos aún de dinero, sino de crear, a partir de los materiales del espíritu humano, algo que no existía antes. Por eso, no soy más que un guardián de este premio. A su parte representada en dinero no será difícil encontrarle una destinación acorde con el propósito y el significado que le dan origen. Pero querría hacer lo mismo con el reconocimiento, usando este momento como un pináculo desde donde me escuchen los hombres y las mujeres jóvenes que ya están dedicados a las mismas angustias y tribulaciones que yo, entre quienes está aquel que algún día ocupará el mismo lugar que ocupo ahora.
Nuestra tragedia de hoy es un miedo físico general y universal tan largamente padecido, que a duras penas lo podemos soportar. Ya no quedan problemas del espíritu; tan sólo una pregunta: ¿cuándo seré aniquilado? Es por eso que el hombre o la mujer joven que escribe actualmente ha olvidado los problemas del corazón humano en conflicto consigo mismo, que solos bastarían para producir buena escritura porque son lo único sobre lo cual vale la pena escribir, lo único que justifica la agonía y el sudor. Debe aprenderlos de nuevo. Debe enseñarse a sí mismo que lo más despreciable de todo es tener miedo; y una vez aprendido, olvidarlo para siempre sin dejar espacio en su taller para nada distinto de las verdades y certezas del corazón, de las verdades universales sin las cuales cualquier relato es efímero y fatal: el amor, el honor, la piedad, el orgullo, la compasión, el sacrificio. Mientras no lo haga, su trabajo está bajo maldición. No escribe sobre amor sino sobre lujuria, sobre derrotas en las que nadie pierde nada valioso, sobre victorias sin esperanza y, lo peor de todo, sin piedad ni compasión. Su dolor no llora sobre fibras universales y no deja huella. No escribe con el corazón; escribe con las glándulas.
Mientras no aprenda estas cosas, escribirá como si estuviera viendo el final del hombre e inmerso en él. Me rehúso a aceptar el fin del hombre. Es demasiado fácil decir que el hombre es inmortal simplemente porque permanecerá; que cuando repique y se desvanezca el último campanazo del Apocalipsis con la última piedra insignificante que cuelgue inmóvil en la agonía del fulgor del último anochecer, que incluso entonces se oirá un sonido: el de su voz débil e inagotable, que seguirá hablando. Me niego a aceptarlo. Creo que el hombre no sólo perdurará, prevalecerá. Es inmortal, no por ser el único entre todas las criaturas que posee una voz inagotable, sino porque tiene un alma, un espíritu capaz de compasión y sacrificio y fortaleza. El deber del poeta, del escritor, es escribir sobre estas cosas. Tiene el privilegio de ayudar al hombre a resistir aligerándole el corazón, recordándole el coraje, el honor, la esperanza, el orgullo, la compasión, la piedad y el sacrificio que han enaltecido su pasado. La voz del poeta no debe ser solamente el recuerdo del hombre, también puede ser su sostén, el pilar que lo ayude a resistir y a prevalecer. [Estocolmo, 10 de diciembre de 1950] Video dedicado al maestro... August 01 Chicken Soup for my soul.I received a few days ago this meaningful message from a friend, and now I want to shear it with you. “People come into your life for a reason, a season, or a lifetime. When you figure out which one it is, you will know what to do for each person. Then, without any wrongdoing on your part, or at an inconvenient time, this person will say or do something to bring the relationship to an end. Sometimes they walk away. Sometimes they act up and force you to take a stand. Sometimes they die. What we must realize is that our need has been met, our desire fulfilled, their work is done. Your need has been answered, and now it is time to move on. When people come into your life for a SEASON...It is because your turn has come to share, grow, or learn. They bring you an experience of peace or make you laugh. They may teach you something you have never done. They usually give you an unbelievable amount of joy. Believe it! It is real, but, only for a season. LIFETIME relationships teach you lifetime lessons; things you must build upon in order to have a solid emotional foundation. Your job is to accept the lesson, love the person, and put what you have learned to use in all other relationships and areas of your life. It is said that love is blind but friendship is clairvoyant.” Peace May 24 PURO CUENTO“Mamá quiero ser Ingeniero!!!” Le dije a la persona que mas amaba, y quien a la vez era la que más se preocupaba por mi educación. En ese entonces era sólo un imberbe adolescente a punto de terminar la secundaria y que pronto se vería ante la terrible disyuntiva de escoger una especialidad universitaria y, peor aun, escoger la universidad a donde Postular. “Puro Cuento…” dijeron algunos familiares que no me veían con buenos ojos por lo rebelde de mi carácter. “Quiero estudiar en la UNI!!!” les conté a mis amigos del colegio y del barrio refiriéndome a la mejor Universidad Nacional de Ingeniería de Latinoamérica (UNI), y la mayoría me felicitó, sólo algunos comprendieron lo difícil que era ingresar a dicha Institución. Pero escuché decir a mis espaldas… “Puro Cuento”. “Dios Mío… Ya no se puede vivir en el Perú” dijo mi esposa ante la horrenda crisis económica y política que vivía el país. El dinero de nuestro salario era casi inservible y, peor aun, a diario la gente moría en las calles en manos de la represión gubernamental o los atentados terroristas. “Nos vamos a California!!!” Le respondí como única solución individual a nuestros problemas. ¿A California?... “Puro Cuento” me dijeron muchos en mi propia cara. “Quiero poner mi propia empresa constructora!!!” le confesé al compañero con quien abríamos una zanja para unos cimientos, usando picos y palas, en el Sur de California. El bato mejicano, tan ilegal como yo en ese entonces, me miró y sonriendo me dijo “Orale cabrón, déjate de Pinches Cuentos y ponte a trabajar” y yo, recién llegado a gringolandia, entendí que sencillamente me decía “Puro Cuento” al sueño de salir de ese agujero. “Se llamará Branez Constrution!!!” me dije a mi mismo, en silencio, como una promesa ante la adversidad, mientras las gotas del sudor de mi frente corrían por mis mejillas confundiéndose con las lagrimas de mis ojos. “Seré Escritor!!!” me dije al cerrar mi empresa constructora y así, un largo estilo de vida, con el mismo entusiasmo como cuando dije querer ser Ingeniero, sólo que ya habían pasado 40 años de mi vida. Claro que iba a ser muy difícil y yo mismo me pregunté ¿Será “Puro Cuento”? “Excelentísimo Embajador de España…” fue el encabezamiento de mi solicitud para invitarlo a presentar mi primera novela en aquella Casa Cultural… “¿Puro Cuento?” “Te Veré en Sueños” y luego “La Guerra Santa” son dos de mis novelas publicadas y distribuidas en el Perú y el Sur de California, las que demuestran que mis sueños y proyectos no son “Puro Cuento”. Sin embargo, hoy les traigo una colección de cuentos y relatos que me propuse escribir como tarea cotidiana para demostrarme a mi mismo que podía ser un obrero de la escritura, trabajar con disciplina ocho horas diarias, además de mis otros proyectos mayores, y atraer la simpatía de mis lectores virtuales de la red de Internet: “Puro Cuento”. No, esta vez no es una burla a proyectos que se creen inalcanzables o incumplidos, sino el titulo de la colección de mis mejores cuentos: “PURO CUENTO”. La que espero que tenga la acogida de todos Uds. Ahora para que vean que “PURO CUENTO” no es puro cuento los invito a visitar www.lulu.com y buscar el titulo anunciado, o simplemente a través del link: http://stores.lulu.com/michaelangelobarnez
January 24 A TRIBUTE TO NEIL YOUNGTHIS IS A TRIBUTE TO ONE OF THE GREATEST ROCK AND ROLL STAR... NEIL YOUNG. WITH NO MUCH WORDS, I INVITE YOU TO WATCH THE VIDEO AT "MY VIDEOS" OR CLICK ON A TRIBUTE TO NEIL YOUNG November 22 A TRIBUTE TO WILLIAM FAULKNER“A few weeks ago I wrote a short fiction story about an amazing encounter with William Faulkner based on an interview. This time, as a tribute to the one of the greatest American writers, I bring an essay from Judith Handschuh, not only to bring up his already well known figure but to point out details about his life that marked him forever and then resulted to be part of his creative fiction”... Michaelangelo Barnez. BIO William Faulkner was one of America's most innovative novelists. In a career lasting more than three decades, Faulkner published 19 novels, more than 80 short stories, 2 books of poems, and numerous essays. He was born in New Albany, Mississippi on September 25, 1897 and lived most of his life in Oxford. Faulkner received the 1949 Nobel Prize for Literature, and two of his novels, A FABLE (1954) and THE REIVERS (1962), each won the Pulitzer Prize for fiction. On the morning of July 6, 1962, after twenty days of suffering from back injury, Faulkner died of an unexpected heart attack. He was buried in St. Peter's Cemetery of Oxford. *William Faulkner (then named "Falkner") was born in September 1897 in New Albany, Mississippi. *Faulkner knew at an early age what he wanted to do with his life. When he entered third grade (after having skipped second) and was asked what he wanted to do when he grew up, he responded, "I want to be a writer like my great-granddaddy." *When the United States entered World War I in 1917, Faulkner (still spelled "Falkner" at this time) tried to enlist in the Army Air Corps as a pilot. When he was rejected for being too short, he decided to spell his name "Faulkner" and adopted a British persona, even affecting an English accent, hoping to join the Royal Air Force in Canada. He was accepted and reported for duty in Toronto on July 9, 1917. Nevertheless, he never flew in combat. When the war ended on November 11, 1918, Cadet Faulkner was stationed at the School of Military Aeronautics in Toronto in the third and final phase of pre-flight training. He returned home to Oxford in December 1918, having never left North America for the skies over Europe. *Faulkner's most notorious stint as a working man was his role of postmaster at the University of Mississippi post office, which incredibly he held for nearly three years. By all accounts, he was a terrible postmaster. When a postal inspector came to investigate, Faulkner agreed to resign. *At the same time Faulkner was working as postmaster, he also volunteered as a scoutmaster for the Oxford Boy Scout troop --- but he was relieved of his duties because of his drinking. *Faulkner twice used "Dark House" as a working title for a novel in progress, and both times he changed it for a more impressionistic title: LIGHT IN AUGUST and ABSALOM, ABSALOM! *When he was trying to get THE SOUND AND THE FURY published, Faulkner suggested using colored ink as a means of delineating the multiple time periods represented in Benjy's section rather than simply indicating a shift in time with italics, but he was told publishing was not advanced enough to accomplish it.
*In Faulkner's first Yoknapatawpha novel, SARTORIS, the epitaph he had chosen for John Sartoris, a pilot who dies in the novel, was "I bare him on eagles' wings and brought him unto me." In 1935, when Faulkner's youngest brother, Dean Swift Faulkner, died crashing the airplane Faulkner had sold to him, the same epitaph was used on his gravestone. *Faulkner felt tremendous guilt over the death of his brother Dean: he had sold the airplane to Dean, and he had encouraged him in his flying. At the time of Dean's death, Faulkner was writing ABSALOM, ABSALOM!, a novel in which the central mystery concerns the murder of a brother by his brother. *According to Faulkner's nephew, James Faulkner, the church which Thomas Sutpen "rode fast to", and in which he was married, in ABSALOM, ABSALOM! is the same church, College Hill Presbyterian Church, in which Faulkner married Estelle Oldham Franklin in 1929. *The Compson home in THE SOUND AND THE FURY was based on the Chandler House in Oxford, a few blocks away from Faulkner's childhood home. Faulkner's first-grade teacher, Miss Chandler, lived there with her family, which included a mentally retarded brother who may have been a model for Benjy Compson. *When Faulkner first went to MGM to work as a screenwriter in 1932, he volunteered to Story Department chief Samuel Marx to write not feature films but two types of movies he claimed he was most familiar with: newsreels and Mickey Mouse cartoons. *Faulkner's film adaptation of Ernest Hemingway's novel TO HAVE AND TO HAVE NOT marks the only time in film history that two Nobel Prize winners, Faulkner and Hemingway, were associated with the same motion picture. *William Faulkner was awarded the Nobel Prize for Literature for 1949, but he did not actually receive the award until 1950 because the Nobel committee could not reach a decision in time. *Faulkner was unwilling to buy a new suit to wear when he received the Nobel Prize, so he rented one. Afterwards, he told his publisher, Bennett Cerf, that he wanted to keep the suit. When asked what he would do with it, Faulkner said, "Well, I might stuff it and put it in the living room and charge people to come in and see it, or I might rent it out, but I want that suit." Random House bought the suit for him. *When Faulkner delivered his Nobel Prize speech, no one could understand what he said, he stood too far from the microphone, and his Southern accent and rapid delivery made it even more difficult to understand what he was saying. But when they discovered what he said the next morning, the impact was tremendous. For years afterward, according to one scholar, Faulkner's speech would be recalled as the best speech ever given at a Nobel dinner. *The United States Postal Service issued a first-class 22-cent stamp commemorating Faulkner in 1987, an ironic honor, considering Faulkner's notorious stint as a postmaster. The stamp's first-day cancellation was held in Oxford, Mississippi, Faulkner's hometown, on August 3, 1987.
INTERVIEW His family was neither educated nor literary. He never graduated from high school, and he never received a college degree. He lived in a small town in one of the poorest states in the country. He was an alcoholic, who never enjoyed good health, and for most of his life he lived on the edge of financial ruin, taking odd jobs to support his family while he wrote his novels and short stories. His most well-known novels were written over a 12-year span, from 1929 to 1942. Yet William Faulkner, long after his books were out of print and his name was an obscure footnote in literary circles, was awarded the Nobel Prize for Literature in 1949. More than any other writer I know of, his accomplishments were the result of his passion for writing, and his willingness to sacrifice almost anything in order to write. He worked, variously, in a bookstore (he was fired for reading too much), as a postmaster (he was fired for misplacing and losing the mail), as a scoutmaster (he was asked to resign for "moral" reasons, probably drinking too much), and as a janitor, about which he said, "The best job that was ever offered to me was to become a landlord in a brothel. In my opinion it's the perfect milieu for an artist to work in. It gives him perfect economic freedom; he's free of fear and hunger, he has a roof over his head and nothing whatever to do except keep a few simple accounts and to go once every month and pay off the local police. The place is quiet during the morning hours, which is the best time to work. There's enough social life in the evening, if he wishes to participate, to keep him from being bored." He is one of the most complex writers you will ever encounter, if you've read THE SOUND AND THE FURY you know what I mean. The first chapter is written from the point of view of an idiot, and just getting through it can test the mettle of the most dedicated reader. But the more you read, the more he grows on you. His prose is magnificent, and the stories he told in his various novels about the people in his mythical Yoknapatawpha County literally leave footprints on your heart. Beginning with THE SOUND AND THE FURY (published in 1929), and continuing with AS I LAY DYING (published in 1930), LIGHT IN AUGUST (published in 1932) and ABSALOM, ABSALOM (published in 1936), Faulkner chronicled the lives, loves and struggles of several families who lived in small Southern towns. Writing in a stream-of-conscious voice, Faulkner reveals the hopes, dreams and the deepest secrets of his characters. His work is a remarkable blend of humor, tragedy and psychological insight. His novels were outstanding literary successes, but they were not best sellers. To make money, he also wrote short stories which were commercially successful. And if you aren't quite ready to take on his novels, you might want to pick up THE COLLECTED STORIES OF WILLIAM FAULKNER to introduce yourself to his work. He was not only a wonderful writer; he was also a fascinating person. He lived on the edge, never hesitating to take a risk or seize an opportunity to try something new. While biographies about him abound, one of the best is WILLIAM FAULKNER by Patrick Hoffman. It is part of the Twayne's American Authors series, and it offers not only a perspective on his life, but also on his work. The book is a wonderful companion and guide to both the man and his writing. His speech to the Swedish Academy upon his acceptance of the Nobel Prize has been praised as the most brilliant speech ever given at a Nobel ceremony. He said, "It is his [the poet's] privilege to help man endure by lifting his heart, by reminding him of the courage and honor and hope and pride and compassion and pity and sacrifice which have been the glory of his past. The poet's voice need not merely be the record of man, it can be one of the props, the pillars to help him endure and prevail." Faulkner's characters do endure, and we can learn much about the courage and honor and hope and pride of mankind through his work. Judith Handschuh (JHSCRIBA@aol.com) © Copyright 2003, Teenreads.com. All rights reserved October 31 I ONLY ASK OF GOD... SÓLO LE PIDO A DIOSSólo le pido a Dios De León Gieco…
I only ask of God (Todos juntos Por Favor!) People...people, people I only ask of God I only ask of God (Todos juntos Por Favor!) People...people...people (Yeah... Put Your Lights On. For All My People) (Gracias...) Solo le pido a Dios People...people...people October 02 HOTEL CALIFORNIA... Letra en Ingles y Español.Hotel California Authors : Felder/Henley/Frey
On a dark desert highway, cool wind in my hair En un oscuro camino del desierto, viento frío en mi pelo Warm smell of colitas rising up through the air Cálido olor de ardillas, elevándose en el aire Up ahead in the distance I saw a shimmering light Mas adelante, a la distancia, vi una trémula luz My head grew heavy and my sight grew dim. Mi mente se adormeció y mi vista se enturbió I had to stop for the night. Tenía que parar por la noche There she stood in the doorway Ella estaba allí en la puerta de entrada I heard the mission bell Escuché la campana de la misión, And I was thinkin' to myself y pensaba para mis adentros This could be heaven or this could be Hell Esto puede ser el cielo o el infierno Then she lit up a candle and she showed me the way Entonces ella encendió una vela y me mostró el camino There were voices down the corridor Había voces bajo el corredor I thought I heard them say Me pareció escucharles decir... Welcome to the Hotel California “Bienvenido al Hotel California Such a lovely place (Such a lovely place) Such a lovely face Tan adorable lugar, tan adorable rostro Plenty of room at the Hotel California Lleno de habitaciones en el Hotel California Any time of year (Any time of year) You can find it here En cualquier momento del año, lo puedes encontrar aquí” “Her mind is Tiffany-twisted Su mente está perturbada por las alhajas She got the Mercedes Benz Ella tiene un Mercedes Benz She got a lot of pretty, pretty boys she calls friends Ella tiene muchos chicos lindos que llama amigos How they dance in the courtyard Sweet summer sweat Como bailaban en el patio, dulce sudor de verano Some dance to remember Some dance to forget” Algunos bailes para recordar, algunos bailes para olvidar So I called up the Captain "Please bring me my wine" Entonces yo llamé al Capitán, Por favor, tráeme mi vino, He said: "We haven't had that spirit here since 1969 Él dijo: “No hemos tenido ese espíritu aquí desde 1969” And still those voices are calling from far away Y aún aquellas voces están llamando desde lejos Wake you up in the middle of the night Just to hear them say Despertándote a la media noche Solo para escucharlas decir... Welcome to the Hotel California “Bienvenido al Hotel California Such a lovely place (Such a lovely place) Such a lovely face Un lugar tan adorable, un lugar tan adorable” They livin' it up at the Hotel California Ellos disfrutan la vida en el Hotel California What a nice surprise (What a nice surprise) Que linda sorpresa, Que linda sorpresa Bring your alibis Trae tus excusas Mirrors on the ceiling, Espejos en el techo, The pink champagne on ice el champagne rosado en hielo And she said: Y ella dijo: "We are all just prisoners here Aquí somos todos prisioneros of our own device" de nuestra propia invención And in the masters chambers Y en la recámara del Capitán They gathered for the feast Se reunieron para la fiesta They stab it with their steely knives Ellos le apuñalaron con sus cuchillos acerados But they just can't kill the beast Pero no pueden matar a la bestia Last thing I remember Lo último que recuerdo I was running for the door Es que estaba corriendo hacia la puerta I had to find the passage back Tenía que encontrar la salida de regreso To the place I was before Al lugar donde estaba antes "Relax," said the night man, ”Cálmate”, dijo el velador, "We are programmed to receive Estamos preparados para recibirte “You can check out anytime you like “Puedes llegar cuando gustes But you can never leave." Pero nunca puedes irte!”
September 04 AFTER A PERIOD OF TIME AWAY FROM...After a period of time away from the Blog-Space “MICHAELANGELO BARNEZ”, it has been renewed again. And the reason for my distance was due to a very important event that took my attention away totally: My youngest Son's Wedding, Miguel Ángel Jr. Actually it has been almost more than three long months of absence, and I have many things to tell you. Of course that I'll be telling you during these weeks, but today I want to begin with the central event “The Wedding”, the one that I prefer for you to watch instead of reading it, so I invite you to the ceremony memories through the video… It is very true that parents are happy when their children feel the same way. In other words, I believe that we are happy if they are too. I was aware of that the past July 21 when my youngest son, Miguel Ángel Júnior, married his girlfriend Crystal, to establish a wonderful couple. The newlyweds were radiant of happiness; amid their parents, family and best friends. They swore to love and to look after their health and happiness for each other… Well, I prefer that you be present witnesses of this marvelous wedding… And therefore the Youtube video is there. September 01 UNA EXPLICACIÓN NECESARIA...Después de un buen tiempo de ausencia el espacio “Miguel Angel Branez” vuelve a estar disponible. Cuyo link es:Miguel Angel Branez En primer lugar, la breve desaparición del Blog fue motivada por un posible “virus” a través de un nuevo contador de visitas que introducí en la pag. Esto arruinó la configuración del spacio al extremo de ser imposible repararlo. Así que opté por darle de baja, a sabiendas que no podía volver con el mismo nombre en un breve plazo. Así apareció ésta: "Michaelangelo Barnez", La que pronto será en un spacio con artículo exclusivamente en Ingles. Bien como les decía... En segundo lugar, coincidió en el tiempo, un acontecimiento muy importante que acaparó totalmente mi atención, La Boda de mi Hijo Menor, Miguel Ángel Júnior. Realmente han sido mas de tres largos meses de ausencia, y tengo muchas cosas que contarles… Claro que lo iré haciendo en el transcurso de estas semanas pero hoy empezaremos con el evento central “La Boda”, la que prefiero sea espectada antes que leída, así que los invito a rememorar la ceremonia a través del video… Es indudable que los padres somos felices cuando nuestros hijos lo son. En otras palabras, creo que somos felices a condición que ellos lo sean. Eso lo pude comprobar el pasado 21 de Julio cuando mi hijo menor, Miguel Júnior, se casaba con su novia Crystal, para formar una maravillosa pareja. Los novios o recién casados se veían radiantes de felicidad, en medio de sus padres, familiares y mejores amigos. Juraron amarse y velar por la salud y la felicidad de su pareja… Bien, prefiero que sean testigos presenciales… May 04 BIENVENIDOS...
BIENVENIDOS AMIGOS... ESTAMOS RECONSTRUYENDO LA PAG... EN UNOS DIAS MAS ESTAREMOS LISTOS...
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