Commodores - Lady (You Bring Me Up) #CerroPorteño #Rugby

"Esta semana Cerro Porteño perdio mal con Independiente de Santa Fe . (2-0 e Colombia)

cosa que le va a ser my dificil de remontar en Paraguay, porque tendria que ganar 3-0"

En algun momento el partido fue tal espantoso que parecia el video este del grupo negro The Commodores (Lady) , donde un grupo de mujeres de los 70s y un juez de Futbol Americano con rutinas parecidas a los Globetrotters refereaba un espantoso y bizarro partido de los primeros años del Soccer norteamericano.

Gracias Dios que fui y soy Rugbier"

@trompo

" Digan lo que digan los que no tuvieron la dicha de poder viajer y conocer el mundo , En Paraguay se vive de verdad .. Los japoneses, por ejemplo , son una potencia increible gigante de suicidas obsesivos complulsivos del trabajo . Hacen los deberes para las corporaciones , se sacrifican "por honor" haciendose explotar sobre portaaviones y cuando hacen el balance de su vida viajan a Aokigahara (青木ヶ原, ''Aokigahara''), conocido como Mar de Árboles (樹海, Jukai) o Bosque de los suicidios , para terminar con sus sacrificadas vidas para otros... No son los unicos que fueron bien entrenados por la cultura y por los grandes manipuladores ancestrales. Hay muchas otras culturas similares en occidente . El dia que despiertan ya es tarde.. No vivieron, no disfrutaron , no agradecieron.. No son mas que material biologico para la maquina que pica carne y destruye vidas." @trompo .

#tbt valen y piruli

Laa extraňo mucho

#tbt Tomi y yo

Long ago ..far away
Te quiero mi rey

#tbt solanas

#tbt mis bbs grandes

Los quiero mucho

Long ago ..far way

Why Do Anything? A Meditation on Procrastination # feedly

Why Do Anything? A Meditation on ProcrastinationPhoto

Have you heard the story of the architect from Shiraz who designed the world's most beautiful mosque? No one had ever conjured up such a design. It was breathtakingly daring yet well-proportioned, divinely sophisticated, yet radiating a distinctly human warmth. Those who saw the plans were awe-struck.

Famous builders begged the architect to allow them to erect the mosque; wealthy people came from afar to buy the plans; thieves devised schemes to steal them; powerful rulers considered taking them by force. Yet the architect locked himself in his study, and after staring at the plans for three days and three nights, burned them all.

The architect couldn't stand the thought that the realized building would have been subject to the forces of degradation and decay, eventual collapse or destruction by barbarian hordes. During those days and nights in his study he saw his creation profaned and reduced to dust, and was terribly unsettled by the sight. Better that it remain perfect. Better that it was never built.

The story is a fable, but its main idea — that a thing's ideal state is before it comes into existence, that it is better to not be born — is equal parts terrifying and uncanny, especially today, when progress and productivity are practically worshiped. And it evokes a philosophical insight with ancient roots that is still worth investigating.

"The world," we read in the Gnostic Gospel of Philip, "came about through a mistake." The demiurge who made it "wanted to create it imperishable and immortal," but eventually he "fell short of attaining his desire, for the world never was imperishable, nor, for that matter, was he who made the world." The Gnostics believed nonexistence to be a mark of perfection, and coming into being a form of degradation.

Basilides, one of the most intriguing figures of early Gnosticism, believed that the highest attribute of divinity is its inexistence. By his own account, Basilides was a theologian of the "nonexistent God"; he referred to God as "he who is not," as opposed to the maker of the world, trapped in existence and time.

Gnostic thinking takes us to a privileged ontological realm: the state of perfection that precedes actualization. That which is yet to be born — be it the world, a person, a piece of furniture or a piece of writing like this one — may be nothing, but at this stage it is at its utmost. Its nothingness is fuller and richer than any ordinary existence. To fall into existence is to enter time, and with time comes decay, aging and death.

Modern proponents of this idea are hard to come by, but the Romanian-born French philosopher E.M. Cioran is certainly one. For Cioran, who died in 1995, there was something incomparably worse than death — "the catastrophe of birth," and the "fall in time" that comes with it. In his book "The Trouble With Being Born," Cioran maps out the vast unfolding of nothingness that preceded coming into existence.

"I am lured only by what precedes me," he writes, by "the numberless moments when I was not: the non-born." From that perspective, he looks at the world with new eyes, and gains a deeper understanding of himself: "I have never taken myself for a being. A noncitizen, a marginal type, a nothing who exists only by the excess, by the superabundance of his nothingness."

Cioran was a man of unusual tastes. He took a liking to the Thracians because they "wept over the newborn," and to the Gnostic sect of Bogomils, who, "in order to justify God, held Satan responsible for the infamy of Creation."

All of this raises an obvious question: Why do anything? Why multiply the cosmic failure, the "infamy of creation"?

Idleness, as we know, has a bad rap in Western culture, but it can be a philosophical experience in its own right. Bertrand Russell wrote a long essay in praise of it, and Oscar Wilde thought that "to do nothing at all is the most difficult thing in the world" as well as the most intellectual. The great, consummate idlers of literature (Ivan Goncharov's Oblomov or Melville's Bartleby) are figures of metaphysical quest: They exemplify ways of being human with unusual complexity.

Idleness, then, reveals an experience of nothingness. While nothingness tends to occupy a central position in Eastern traditions like Buddhism and Taoism, we in the West typically shun it; after all, one of the most characteristic branches of Western philosophy is ontology, the study of that which exists.

Yet, even if we do not choose to embrace nothingness, nothingness itself may choose to embrace us. It may not be that we don't have anything to do, or that we're bored, or that we would rather do it later, but just that we don't see the point of it all. In our idleness we intuit a cosmic meaninglessness, which comes along with the realization that, with every action, we get only more entangled in the universal farce.

Perhaps the most intriguing form of idleness is one nearly all of us are intimately familiar with: procrastination. Idleness is difficult to find in a pure state. Indeed, in a certain sense, it eludes us because, at its most radical, idleness tends to devour its devotees (again, Oblomov and Bartleby). But procrastination is a different business altogether: It is not only more available, but also more dynamic, just as the procrastinator is a more dramatic figure than the idler, who is as ascetic and immobile as a pillar saint.

The drama of procrastination comes from its split nature. Just like the architect from Shiraz, the procrastinator is smitten by the perfect picture of that which is yet to be born; he falls under the spell of all that purity and splendor. What he is beholding is something whole, uncorrupted by time, untainted by the workings of a messed-up world. At the same time, though, the procrastinator is fully aware that all that has to go. No sooner does he get a glimpse of the perfection that precedes actualization than he is doomed to become part of the actualization process himself, to be the one who defaces the ideal and brings into the world a precarious copy, unlike the architect who saves it by burning the plans.

The procrastinator contemplates his deed and realizes all its future imperfection, but — fallen creature, "man of the world," part of the "infamy of Creation" that he is — he must do it. The procrastinator is both contemplator and man of action, which is the worst thing to be, and which is tearing him apart.

What procrastination betrays is above all an anxiety of creation: It pains us unbearably to realize that, for all our good intentions, we are agents of degradation, that instead of creating something that stays whole and incorruptible, we by our very doing make it "perishable and mortal," in the words of the Gnostic author of the Gospel of Philip. Procrastination and mourning are tied tightly together: for to procrastinate is to mourn the precariousness of your creation even before you bring it into the world.

We should perhaps spend more time dwelling on the rich virtuality that precedes the fall into existence. That is, after all, what true contemplation must be about: a commerce with the irreality of things, a learned habit to see them from the privileged perspective of their pre- and nonexistence. Rather than get caught up in the misleading appearance of the material world, we transport ourselves back to a moment when the world, with all its holes and imperfections, hasn't happened yet.

Costica Bradatan is the author, most recently, of "Dying for Ideas: The Dangerous Lives of the Philosophers."

Poesia : Comence a dibujar tu bello rostro Vanina Mera...

"Comence a dibujar tu bello rostro Vanina Mera
Asi que ayer pase por tu casa y me tiraste un lapiz.
Hoy pasare de nuevo , hermosa mujer , a ver si tambien me tiras la goma." Pablo Mera

Los tres clubes que rigen nuestra vida desde el primer dia que nos convertimos en adultos

"Hay tres clubes que rigen nuestra vida desde el primer dia que nos convertimos en adultos . Si bien algunos nos damos cuenta y en algun momento renunciamos a la membresia , la mayoria se convierten tarde o temprano en socios vitalicios de los tres .En lo social , el Club del Conformismo.En lo familiar , el Club de las Normas Impuestas. En lo laboral , el Club del Presentismo.Los tres clubes tienen algo en comun; cuando renuncias te empiezan a culpar de todos los males posibles . Asi,en el Club del Conformismo , si sos infeliz en tu pareja y queres cambiar la situacion te dan de baja de inmediato. En el de las Normas Impuestas, cuando no aceptas los dogmas de los mayores estas afuera. Y en el del Presentismo , si trabajas mejor y te destacas del resto te buscan la vuelta para que renuncies. Los tres clubes tienen requisitos de ingreso muy similares . Estos son: ser mediocre , ser obsecuente y/o ser lumpen . Tarde pero al fin , me di cuenta que para salir adelante en la vida hay que ganarles de mano y devolverles el carne de socio partido a la mitad antes que te pidan la renuncia. "@trompo

Commodores - Lady (You Bring Me Up) #CerroPorteño #Rugby

Bruno Mars - When I Was Your Man (Live Performance )

"Purple Rain" (Live) - Chris Martin - Oakland, Fox Theater - April 30, 2016

Chris Martin of Coldplay Surprises the Crowd and Joins 8th Grade Rock Band

Material biologico para la maquina que pica carne y destruye vidas."