Inspiracionales

Un montón de cosas pasan por mi cabeza estos días. Más de lo habitual. Al punto que, este lunes, i.e. ayer, i.e. hace un siglo atrás, me encontré sintiendo que mis miles de hilos de pensamiento se ramificaban intensamente, como un espectáculo de láser o un peinado ultrapunk. Recién me metí a revisar los correos pendientes, los que marco con estrellita en gmail. Y entre ellos estaba la edición de la semana pasada del newsletter de Warren Ellis, donde contaba de su fallido intento de llevar un diario este año y publicaba una entrada, de Febrero:

“I started reading Rene Redzepi’s journal today. He’s the head chef at Noma. And at the top of the journal he coins a new motto for himself.

“Live fast, don’t fucking die.”

Writing novels is living slow. It’s peaceful and focussed, if frustrating on those days when the connections won’t come. Writing everything else is living fast. That’s what this year is: jumping from job to job, idea to idea, trying to develop new things in the interstices. It would be a fine thing to spend the end of my life as a novelist. I’m 46 in eight days, and I’m not there yet. Perhaps I’ll never be there. I may just have a case of terminal neophilia. But I’m still itchy with things not done and things not seen.”

 

Y cuando leí ese párrafo sentí que había encontrado la inspiración justa.

I’m not there yet. Perhaps I’ll never be there. But I’m still itchy with things not done and things not seen.

 

Salud, y buenas noches/buenos días.

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