Tras haber creado mi anterior blog cecilmundo varias personas, muchos de ellos mis alumnos, me sugirieron que creara una secciòn dentro de cecilmundo para publicar mis obras de docencia de idiomas. Dado que la cantidad de documentos de explicaciones, ejercicios y exàmenes de inglès son muy numerosos porque tengo màs de 30 años del ejercicio de la docencia, preferì estrenar blog con mis alumnos a como ellos realmente merecen. En este blog planetcecil no solo iràn mis documentos didàcticos de inglès, sino tambièn la producciòn literaria de varios alumnos que se destacan en las letras. Tambièn darè oportunidad a aquellos que tienen excelentes obras pero que no han logrado publicarlas ya que en mi paìs Nicaragua todo se mueve por la marrana polìtica, y si una no pertenece a determinado partido no verà jamàs publicado su opus. Tambièn tenemos la desgracia de contar con seudoeditores quienes al no conocer verdaderamente de literatura se convierten en mercenarios de la imprenta solo para llenarse ellos mismo de dinero y fama a costillas de los escritores. Todos aquellos que deseen participar en este blog, denlo de antemano por suyo. Aunque lleve mi nombre en un arranque de egolatrìa, yo soy sencillamente vuestra servidora.Cecilia

Las alas de la educación

Las alas de la educación
La educación es un viaje sin final.

La lección de física

La lección de física
Casi aprendida

domingo, 28 de septiembre de 2008

Wolfie takes me



54th entry to the Colonel`s Scrapbook

Birthdates which occurred on your SELECTED date of September 27:
1601 Louis XIII king of France (1610-43) one of the sorriest cuckolds of history through Queen Anne`s hot crinolines, not Just, but the daddy of Louis XIV, barely a dash between the womanizing Henri IV and the Sun King1657 Sophia regent of Russia (1682-89)did she have an iron hand!
1783 Agust¡n I de Iturbide, artificial and screaming emperor of Mexico (1822-23)
1792 George Cruikshank England, illustrator for Charles Dickens, he had an ncredible flair for drama too!
Deaths which occurred on September 27:
1660 St Vincent de Paul Vincentian Congregation founder, very useful saint, dies
1540 Society of Jesus (Jesuits) founded by opinionated and weak. kneed Ignatius Loyola
World Day of Tourism
Mozart`s Andantino for the Harp and flute concerto in C major
Music is well said to be the speech of angels, but not all music is spoken by the archangels. Mozart was way up beside Gabriel or Michael when he was composing, and his andantino movement from his Concerto for Flute,Harp and Orchestra in C major is one of those pieces so magically conceived that I simply have to mention it. Cardinal sin it would be not to say anything about it. But there is an ironic story behind this angelic piece of music. I lament it, dearest of all my readers,but itr wasn`t conceived with Mozart in love. It was a very basic and down to earth pecuniary transaction. Wolfie, as I so familiarly call my adored Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, simply had a stomach and he had to fill it somehow…just like the rest of us. Life has a certain way of making sure that the term democracy coined by the Greeks so long ago can really exist although not as a fictitious form of government so trumpeted by both bastardly capitalists or abusive socialists. We all have to eat, and Wolfie had to find a wat to be able to wolf down a plate of soup, and a French nobleman and his daughters happened to be amateur players who wanted to show off in front of their friends with a piece made just for them. So, not being particularly inspired by any lady who could put his pheromones to work(like in the case of Schubert, who was really running wild over a common prostitute and that is why he conceived such beautiful movements for his Unfinished Symphony and then left it tail-less because the inspiration hadn`t precisely run out but the money had), No wild sex,sorry,my most cherished reader, sorry, I owe you the testosterone or whatever it normally makes a man like Hèctor Berlioz dedicate the Symphonie Fantastique to a vile British actress named Henrietta Smithson (who wasn`t even there on the premiere of the masterwork and later became his wife in order to peel money off him). This masterwork by Wolfie was simply and mechanically prepared as an expert cook goes through the steps to produce a marvelous meal. No heart rinds were poured into it, contrary to what I do every time an entry to this scrapbook is written, then sent to you, blogged and then read by so many who would probably like to make the same question as a pair of journalists did a few weeks ago. Who is the reader? Creen que lo digo todo, que me juego la vida, porque no te conocen nit e sienten, Cuban troubadour Silvio Rodriguez sang that in Te Doy Una Cancion(I give you a song). They think I say everything, that i put my life in jeopardy, because they don`t know you nor do they feel you. Wow, how many examples in music and literature, we could go on forever. But there is the second movement of Mozart`s Flute and Harp Concerto and somehow it reminds me of so many things the perfect grammarian with tiger striped hair or the stone cold military who looks like a doll dressed in drab cannot express, least of all in public. These are pocket knives that enter the prisoner`s clink. You introduce them, with the complicity of Wolfie. And they are instruments for actual plotting. I become a conspirator for my own sake, I am seeking the way out, because quetzals cannot live in a cage and even if they do sing, their song is so mournful that ordinary people would ask them to shut up. Why is kismet so ironic that Wolfie, who was never happy in love, could mechanically produce the seamless and magnificent andantino we are talking about without having a love affair like an ace up his laced sleeve?
I come home almost dragging my worn and swollen feet, those feet that have been fractured and snake bitten, after a hard day in which I was forced to yell like a drill sergeant(although it goes against my teaching policy),tired and hungry and it is enough to sit at my PC which is disconnected from internet, and it is enough only to listen to the music and I am there, no pain holds me back, no anger clouds my pen, although I know life sometimes abuses me through those who surround me although they never could touché my inner fiendish core. I don`t believe in souls because I am not religious so I can`t send you what I don`t believe in, but something which is what makes me myself and not my cat Timurlenk, shakes free of this sad carcass of broken bones and weary muscles and evaporates through thick air to land onto your lap so far away, bringing an imaginary sunflower to you because I couldn`t find one that was real on the way. Wolfie, I would like to ask, why? There are no tears or sadness in this, just a bronze-colored iridescent certainty that somehow space will shrink betwixt us to the point that I could only reach out and touch your long locks and smile into your eyes. Imagine if there really is afterlife when we have been reduced to ashes, or my heart thrown into the San Juan River, and there is Wolfie with his ugly physical profile, so I may go to him and humbly kiss the hand with which he took the quill and wrote on his music sheets?I just hear the andantino and I fly over oceans and rivers, not caring if, like Vinicius de Moraes once mentioned in his poetry that it may be eternal while it lasts, or if eternity is wiped out by one single AK47 bullet…Wolfie reminds me that there can be an annex written to my favourite line by Agathon about the gods not being able to change the past, or like my friend the writer Ricardo Pasos who says that as we grow old, if great is our age we dream it wee(parodying Rubèn Darìo who said that if our homeland is small we dream of greatness for her).
I now understand Vlaimir Ilitch Uliànov, Lenin, of course the bogeyman for revolting capitalists. Lenin said he hated classical music, not because he had poor taste(he had a great taste, he loved cats, like I do, and good taste has always been on the left wing and never for elites with Swiss accounts), but because it reminded him that he had a heart.
I was barely around 4 years old when my mother sat me and my cat Torta to listen to Wolfie`s andantino to the flute and harp concerto for the first time. We had been giving her hell with some visitors. We both started drooling while quietly listening, I rolled up in a Viennese wicker chair, and the heavy tawny cat on top of my lap. I had already started liking Wolfie as a baby, when my mother would lay me in my crib and softly,the stereo would waft his 40th Symphony. The final coup de foudre came that afternoon with my fat cat in lap, and this proves a crush can last forever. One week short of my 49th birthday,still without menopause and preferring to have stars in my eyes than on my shoulders, I simply had to write about it, and I don`t know if you can fully understand how much this andantino means to me. I don`t want to verbalize it anymore, I know my nouns and verbs and descriptives fall too short. Whenever you have the chance, listen to it. Then look upon your left shoulder and you will feel me ensconced there, because through the wings that Wolfie confectioned, I am there.