INDIO GRIS Nº 47- Einpersonen-zeitschrift zur ansammlung von müll

INDIVIDUAL MAGAZINE OF GARBAGE COLLECTION
Nº 47. YEAR 2001- APRIL, THURSDAY 19
FUSIONED - DIRECTED - WRITTEN AND CORRESPONDED BY: MENASSA 2001

WE DON'T KNOW HOW TO SPEAK BUT WE DO IT IN SEVERAL LANGUAGES
SPANISH, FRENCH, ENGLISH, GERMAN, ARABIAN, PORTUGUESE, ITALIAN, CATALAN

INDIO GRIS, IS A PRODUCT
OF A FUSION
THE BRIGTHENESS OF THE GREY
AND
THE JARAMA INDIAN
THE FUSION WITH MORE FUTURE OF THE
XXI CENTURY

Man's imagery has no limits.
His madness is infinite.
He's capable of believing that secrets are kept in the heart.
He's capable of believing that truth is more than what it is:
Instant,
in the production of any work,
of any love.
Madmen's time, this time where not even I exist.
Marine algebra, algebras
and sea winds,
and little stories.
Little and mysterious stories,
among which
the secret figure of my being
hides.
While I write,
the same worry always harasses me:
To write something that can be understood.
I look at myself and it shows.
I am, precisely, a dilemma.
A visceral pulling
against another visceral pulling.
In the same gaze,
two hatreds, two loves.
In the same fire,
two flames, two ashes.
When blood occurred,
it was against the own blood.
One as red as the other.
Turbulent hands,
like an effort comparable to dying,
disassemble the mechanism:
number two doesn't exist,
it's always an unfolding of the image.

At the verge of being quartered,
a man should shout, asking for help,
a man should shout, asking
a man should shout,
a man should
and however,
a man is also a noisy downfall,
a lover of his own massacre,
an exquisite memory of his tearings.
A story
that has been repeating itself for centuries.

I have no more desperate encounters,
in general I have no encounters.
Everything bursts. Everything is sublime.
The body and the word, so written,
are, we must know,
edges of a dialectic.
And in that devilish struggle
between existence and essence,
Reality, Truth, the Symptom
always succeed.
Men, women, infatuated with
famous and old relations
among free persons and slaves.
I'd like
to start everything from scratch.
In front of this emptiness.
In front of this impossibility.
Smoke and barbarism.
And a slow afternoon
where everything elapses as if it were little,
as if its passage were far away.

Ocean breeze, archangel of night.
Your whole mouth is
perfume and violence among darkness.
I unchain the rites of love in my being.
Dry vintage.
I bloom among your juices.
I interweave my life with your ferns.
Anchor and sea, your smells,
your open and disorderly fish.
Beast's eyes. Cow.
Cow of solitude.
Sometimes I think that the best
is to drink the nectars savagely.
Sometimes I think that the best
is to eat the fruit savagely.
I have with me, I know,
fruit and nectars
to savagely eat and drink myself.
And however, writing
is always
a happiness for the heart.
To emerge from the shadows,

To emerge from the shadows of the sea.
Aquatic kangaroo.
Hours from a life always desperate and alive.
Small words will be building the world.
Stubborn gallops will be covering the distances.
Among marine beauties I tear your skin,
I put my life on stage
in the contours of your rhythm,
I detect you undefined
among the light sheets of paper.
Onto the wind.
Onto the time.
To poetry.
Tenacious among your dead,
crazy and alive,
iridescent molecular eye,
flame of love, poetry,
tenacious, purifying algebra,
burning antiseptic
against the small animals in the wood.
Nocturnal nerve and light,
muscles and massacre,
fleshes, vintages of flesh,
poetry in the future
against what might smell rotten.
Onto the wind.
Onto the time.
To poetry.

MENASSA IN BUENOS AIRES
From April 16^th to May 13^th

- APERTURE OF SIGMUND FREUD'S SEMINAR
The Interpretation of Dreams. Will be delivered by Miguel Oscar Menassa.
April 19^th, at Cero Group School of Psychoanalysis and Poetry.

•La ineptitud de los vampiros ( Vampires'ineptitude)
Wednesday April 25^th, Bellas Artes Museum, 1473 Libertador Av., at 7 p.m.

•Cartas a mi mujer ( Letters to my wife )
Friday April 27^th, Cero Group School. 459 Maipu St., at 9 p.m.

•Diálogo entre el loco y el poeta (Dialogue between the crazy man and the poet):
Wednesday May 2^nd, Centro Cultural Rojas, 2030 Corrientes Av., at 8 p.m.

•Monólogo entre la vaca y el moribundo ( Monologue between the cow and the moribund):
Friday May 4^th - Encore, Rodriguez Peña, at 9 p.m.

• April 22^nd Signing of copies at 2006/8 Stand of the S.A.D.E., at 8 p.m.

Information:
Cero Group School of Psychoanalysis and poetry
459 Maipu St.
( zip code 1006) Buenos Aires
Tel: 4 328 0614/ 0710

"I 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."

A 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”.

Juan-Jacobo Bajarlía