10º Encuentro Literario de exalumnos

(Clasificación A // Rated A)

¿Busca usted literatura de la buena?

Asista entonces a:

⇩

Expediente secreto // A little secret

(Clasificación A // Rated A)

La vida sí tiene sentido. ¿Que cuál es? No me pregunte, vaya y búsquelo usted mismo. ¿O qué, creía que sería así de fácil? Hasta ahora, pocos (tan reducido es el número histórico que podemos sin erratas mayores sustituirlo por la denominación nadie) lo han encontrado y, por eso, muchas veces nos parece que carece de uno. Pero no; en realidad, sí lo tiene. La vida sí tiene sentido, un sentido tan complejo en sus modos que los seres humanos no alcanzamos a comprender. Nuestra capacidad de entendimiento no da para tanto; por eso, no logramos ver por ningún lado el sentido de la vida. Pero sí tiene sentido. ¡En serio! ¿No me cree? Es que no puedo escribir nada para hacerle ver que sí lo tiene. Puedo dejarle aquí todos los títulos, autores y temas que tuve que revisar para poder entender que la vida sí tiene sentido, pero igual tampoco me creería. Usted debe llegar a esa conclusión, con o sin referencias alternas, por su propio sendero. Sé que es difícil creerlo, pero le escribo de veras: la vida sí tiene sentido. Pero, si usted es feliz, ignóreme por completo y siga su camino sin leer estas palabras. No busque nada, porque en una désas podría terminar encontrándolo y, créame, está mejor como está ahora.

—   —   —   —   —   —   —   —   —   —

Life, Universe & Existence do actually have a meaning, a sense and a purpose. Different issue is you not knowing which it is. But that is your problem, not mine.

Una en un millón // A life experience

(Clasificación A // Rated A)

Mi condición de ciudadano globalizado y posmoderno me llevó a una situación extrañísima, al menos así les parecerá a aquellos que no sean posmodernos. Mi novia (también posmodernista) y yo habíamos acordado no tener hijos nunca en la vida. Nuestros respectivos padres (nada posmodernos) no aceptaban nuestra decisión; así que, complotando para hacernos cambiar de parecer, lograron dejarnos a cargo de siete niños (parientes y vecinos) durante todo un fin de semana.

            Un día lo gastamos con videojuegos de violencia extrema y comida chatarra. El segundo lo pasamos viendo películas de terror y pizzas de mil sabores. Pero el último día, cansados del sillón, nos fuimos al CENART a un eventillo literario para jóvenes. Sinceramente, fue una estupenda idea porque, en cuanto arribamos, los chamacos se pusieron a leer con la misma emoción con que jugaban HALO. Al menos, así, podríamos demostrar a nuestros parientes que nuestra decisión de no tener hijos no era por carencia de habilidades para educarlos.

            En fin, esta pequeña cronicómica no se trata sobre mi experiencia como niñera (¿a quién podría interesarle eso?), sino sobre lo que vi …viví… en aquel picnic literario. No haré spoiler, sólo extenderé la recomendación, pues en verdad es algo de lo mejor que he visto en mi vida, en lo que refiere a producto artístico.

            Si alguna vez encuentran programado en cartelera el Picnic en el País de las Maravillas a cargo de Alas y Raíces de CONACULTA, ¡vayan a verlo! Que no les importe cuánto cueste —yo lo vi gratis, por cierto— ni qué tan lejos esté, la verdad es que sí lo vale; les aseguro que será una de las mejores experiencias que podrán presenciar en la vida.

            …y si van, ¡me invitan! J

—        —        —        —        —        —        —        —        —        —

Being a postmodernist kind of man with a postmodernist lifestyle and a postmodernist way of thinking, I somehow ended up enrolled in a postmodernist relation with a postmodernist kind of woman. I speak with emphasis on the postmodernist part due to the rumours I have heard, the blogs I have read and the courses I have attended, which describe postmodernism just the way I would describe myself. Sincerely, I do not wholly overstand what postmodernism is, but my significant other says we are a postmodernist couple just because, since the very beginning of our relation, we have come to the agreement of not having any children... ever in life!

            However, neither my parents nor hers liked our decision of not becoming parents even adoptive ones. Thus, one april’s day, they ―altogether with some hardly known relatives and some close friends likewise― managed to leave us both, one whole weekend, with seven little children: her youngest sister, two of my nephews and one niece, her two little cousins and also, if that would not be enough, her nine-year-old neighbour.

            I considered the easiest solution: violent video games, tons of junk food, horror movies late at night and a visit to the nearest ¡Recórcholis! store. Nonetheless, having hipster likes and with the intention of giving our parents a lesson about our ability to cope with children, my significant other looked on the internet for some familiar events with recreational activities. That is how she found this Día de campo literario por el Día Internacional del Libro Infantil y Juvenil – Una canasta para todos, which was presenting at the Centro Nacional de las Artes (CENART) precisely that weekend. Moreover, the entrance was for free.

            No sooner had we arrived than our babysats were already reading every book they found interesting on their way. We let them go and run and play and read whatever they wanted, for we were quite sure that CENART was well protected by many police officers and that it was a safe place for them to be looking around freely.

            What is this all about? It is not about babysitting, it is not about books, it is not about postmodernism. It is about what I lived that day, what I saw in there, and overall what I learnt by being there. I thought there was nothing there for me, for it was a very childish event. But, thence, a special show was announced: Picnic en el País de las Maravillas presented by Alas y Raíces de CONACULTA (Consejo Nacional para la Cultura y las Artes). The play was an adaptation of the book Alice in Wonderland by Lewis Carroll.

            In the beginning, I thought it was going to be a common play with some false actors trying to make children laugh, disappointing all parents with their hypocritical scripts.

            How mistaken I was.

            Firstly, there was no stage. Hard to believe, but there was not. The play was rehearsed all around the garden (the backyard) of CENART. There were actors everywhere; here and there one could see, or at least hear, scenes taking place at the same time.

            Secondly, it was not just a play. There were also people reading fragments of the book, in both English and Spanish, meanwhile some others acted out those fragments.

            Thirdly, the scenography was unnecessary due to the nature of the garden which was enough scenography.

            Fourthly, there were some guitarists and flutists playing. But they could only be heard on a small part of the garden, because there were no microphones on the instruments to expand the sound of the music all along the place.

            Fifthly, I am not sure how many actors took part on the play, for they were too many and for they were mixed with the public; it was hard to distinguish how many were real audience and how many were part of the show. Nonetheless, the ones who are essential were clearly recognizable: Alice, the Mad Hatter, Cheshire Cat, the White Rabbit and the Queen of Hearts.

            Sixthly, there was no sequence of scenes or characters. None of them stopped at any time. They went on with their scenes even if Alice ―the main character― left that scene to meet another one. It was really a wonderful representation; it was pretty crazy.

            However, what is important about this is the message within the play, the essence of the show itself, and the teaching it gave to me: Theatre, as life, can be different... can be wonderful!

            ...and if theatre and life can be different, then everything can be different. That makes me think that maybe this postmodernist ideology can also be different.

            I loved that play, event, show ―or whatever it was― because, even when it was intended for children, it could surprise me, it could teach me, it could make me keep looking for similar plays, it could make me like theatre, it could make me open my eyes.

            Now, and finally, I would say I am still not an expert on the topic (and I do not pretend to be), but at least I am finally interested on the world out there with its non-postmodernist art.