MAGAZINE OF GARBAGE COLLECTION
Nº 46. YEAR 2001- APRIL, THURSDAY 12
FUSIONED - DIRECTED - WRITTEN AND CORRESPONDED BY: MENASSA 2001
DON'T KNOW HOW TO SPEAK BUT WE DO IT IN SEVERAL LANGUAGES
SPANISH, FRENCH, ENGLISH, GERMAN, ARABIAN, PORTUGUESE, ITALIAN, CATALAN
GRIS, IS A PRODUCT
OF A FUSION
THE BRIGTHENESS OF THE GREY
THE JARAMA INDIAN
THE FUSION WITH MORE FUTURE OF THE
INDIO GRIS Nº 46
April 13th, 1980
far things have been working quite well for me, but later while the afternoon
hours went by, everything slowly started to fall.
think that this way I have overcome a journey, strange, rather strange at my
age, now I'm all right, it was a passionate journey through numbers. I know that
the lowest figure is the necessity's figure and that the highest figure is
impossible and this is a limit which will allow me to live better.
life lacks the necessary attributes for my personality. I mean that in normal
life I become opaque. When money is only enough to eat and for my children's
education, I feel that I'm poor. When my desire is detained
in the walls of my room, I think that that isn't desire. Sometimes I feel
as if I were a different human being, sometimes I feel I'm suffering the little
vices of the small intellectual bourgeoisie.
won and feeling defeated, is one of the vices of this system that we live in
an example, we killed, demolished, exploded with poetry in the Vitoria Congress,
and nevertheless we remained with scepticism, with foolishness.
For a man who already performed his Somersault, meanness does him bad,
poverty of spirit wounds him mortally. At times I love the hopes of men, at
times the poor hopes of men make me sick. There are days in which everything
interrupts me, everything infuriates me.
it occurs to me to think
that the journey with gambling, was more for the journey's sake than for
spoke on the phone with my old folks, it was nice, I liked it, I came to think
that I could phone every month. I felt intensely young when I spoke to them. I
think that everything began to change after that conversation. I think I felt
more released, more in control of myself. As you may see, I can't explain what
happened to me after that conversation with my parents. For example, I
remembered that I haven't been to the beach for almost four years, and that made
me feel bad for the first time. I think I was able to understand why dad never
took us to the beach. I felt I could understand some directions in my life. The
city continues to be grey, the city continues to be
grey, the city continues to be grey…
April 13th, 1980
gambling journey is over, at least for the time being, but what I was left with
were nerves, I
hadn't felt nervous for four years, I hadn't felt a real desire for living for
very difficult, every ten minutes someone comes with a complaint, and I listen
and I say nothing, not to keep silent but because of not knowing what to say, I
feel that everyone coming to complain is right, finally if I keep thinking this
way, the only crazy person will be me.
nervous isn't feeling desperate, nor anguished, nor anything bad you might think
of, being nervous is to feel alive, to start thinking that I too have to eat,
dress, dream, enjoy, being nervous means, everything is also me.
can't find a listener for the dialogue I need, and that is also an illness.
smoke my own tobacco is always good for me. I light a cigarette rolled with my
own hands and with the first puff of smoke, I see surging from the shadows, the
coming days. And I'm glad of being able to confront this new future with this
new passion which has surged in me, I don't know if it was because I had gambled
with such zeal or for having spoken
on the phone with my parents after three years.
week ago my residence permit expired and now, in a month time, my passport
expires too, and I'm not in the mood
to carry out these formalities. I'd like to return to Buenos Aires but it
scares me. I know that's a stupid fear, but men usually suffer from stupid
wait for the sun with anxiety, in time they'll discover me: I'm a formalist.
hurricane of time hits me in the face and nothing happens. I'll try to keep
young until I can return to Buenos Aires. I know that some people wish something
shall we meet?
Saturday, August 16th, 1980
shaved my beard and for the first time I let my moustache grow. I'm laughable. I
smoke small cigarettes like small clusters of lights. A universe is a universe
and another universe is another universe.
want to go back to Latin America and feel the proud pain of being
I don't know what I'm writing about. I'm always fearing the possibility that
with my writing I might cheat on myself.
only allows me to harvest part of what I sow, the rest belongs to everyone. As
if we were a thousand people making love.
by page, the stories are being created.
times I feel that I'm writing the new story of humanity. Of course, afterwards a
sort of tedium assaults me like an unreasonableness of nothing.
suffer of a perpetual instability.
symptom I ask myself, or a devilish method against my own reason for existence.
don't search for having, nor for being and, of course I'm a little disoriented.
discovering the delirium of all dialectic, I become desperate.
of a sudden it seems to me that a God hides behind each mathematical formula.
be careful with what seems to repeat itself and nevertheless says that it's
different. We must know it, it repeats itself.
March 19th, 1979, Father's Day
thanks again, the call to know how we had been, sounded delicate to me, I mean
are we heading to?
don't know what happens to me, I cannot write after the letter DARLING,
everything becomes too silly, too badly written.
say that the Spanish experience, a sort of introduction to the world, is doing
the dialectic of heaven and hell (Sergio's words speaking of my writing), she
has acquired grandiosity. My body is a young man's body. My comprehension of the
human phenomena has reached unimaginable places by me in Buenos Aires.
happy the whole time, since a few days living suffices me.
The day of the presentation I enjoyed myself as a madman, people wanted to know what everything was about, we didn't say a word.
new style won't have fans. Passionate producers or enemies.
by little we'll erase the last Christian vestige in our way of living. And there
won't be any acknowledgement for those who want what is impossible.
speak to 50 people per week, people don't know what to do, they're desperate.
few days from the arrival of spring in Madrid, I kiss your heart.
November 2nd, 1979
try to write a letter half an hour before going to see a patient. I'm in the new
building of the Editorial, on the 29th floor of what is called
foggy morning and like a backdrop the snowy and clean hills, light blue
contrasting the sky itself.
a bit cold. I'd like to see you, it has been a long time since we last saw each
let my being fall into my memories, I warm up with memories, I ascend clumsily
DEAREST, sometimes I ask myself what has life, the famous life, done to us. I
also ambition like everybody does the day of the great interpretation. The words
which will relocate so much delirium in the human chain.
a person who would like to live in friendship. And though, at times so much
cruelty, at times so much darkness. So much shadow covering what some time in
the past shined.
have only 15 minutes left to finish this letter and that also desperates me.
sexual promiscuity, this I remember well, was permitted and even desired by
everyone. A promiscuity with money, instead, is bad for everyone and nobody
wants to know anything with this damn technique which dismantles all the
mechanisms. I mean that private property that the man, our man, was not able to
feel with his own body, feels it now with what he believes is his own money.
MENASSA IN BUENOS AIRES
from April 16th to May 13th
COW WAS ALWAYS
A LITTLE CRAZY
BETWEEN THE COW
AND THE MORIBUND
A book by MIGUEL OSCAR MENASSA
am tense, I have appetites, hungers of millenniums and now they'll want to
content me with some piece of cheese, excrescence of some pastoral cow, or the
same cow beaten to death and quartered on the table, recalling
ancient rites, where men ate
each other, and that was love.
I stab my small knife mercilessly into the cow's heart and the cow moos, it tears itself with passion in front of the murderer. I, with surgical precision, separate grease and nerves and I give my beloved one a morsel from the cow's burnt ovaries.
-We're free, she says to me, while she entertains herself with the noise of her teeth trying to chew the burnt parts of the universe. Later, lighter, making a mirage of everything, a lie, she says to me with ease:
A magisterial cow that moos and murders all the time lives in me. Sometimes she seems in pain, but nothing matters to her, she knows that she was born to be beaten to death, and then she shits everywhere and the mad flowers eat what is essential of shit and grow rapidly towards the future."
AN UNLIMITED DESIRE
AN UNQUESTIONABLE TENDERNESS
book written by Miguel Oscar Menassa
To get along with your partner in the Holiday Season
and during some of the working days
“This novel is a monument to desire, not to its satisfaction and desire doesn’t fit in moulds norms”
Leopoldo de Luis
“ Menassa transforms eroticism into a real encyclopaedia of sexual relations”.