In Cuba, the moon was shining as before the Revolution, the sun was the same sun: nature lent everything its eponymous beauty. Geography was alive, but history had died.
Cuba now was not Cuba. It was another thingthe double in the mirror, its *doppelganger*, a living robot from which an accident by its maker had provoked a mutation, a genetic change, a switch of chromosomes. Nothing was in its place. The features were recognizable, but even in Havana the buildings showed a new leprosy. The streets were covered with a visible viscose, oil dripping from the motors of the scarce vehicles because of an unsurmountable fault in refining Russian petroleum, foul fuel in the tropics, In its blackish stickiness women left their shoes (prehistoric artefacts that some entrepreneurs rented at fifty cents an hour!) in their tracks. It was the metaphor of a moral viscosity. The Malecon was decayed, ruinous. In the flower beds of El Vedado, before an elegant suburb, bananas were growing instead of roses, in a desperate effort by the residents to supplement their rations with their stunted fruit. The coffee stands that used to make coffee before the customers on every corner, as in Rio de Janeiro, had vanished by the art of Marxist magic. In their place there were two, at most three stands, to a district that served coffee to avid clusters of clients, and only at certain hours of the day, when they weren't in long lines to buy the coffee that the ration book promises but never delivers. . . The store windows *really* showed off clothes, because no one could buy them, since they were *unique* samplesin the best cases. In others, the shop windows served to enclose Marxian or Leninist allegories, more as decoration than from political fervour. But most of the windows were totally empty, and walking along San Rafael or Neptuno, Obispo or O'Reilly (Cuban versions of Fifth Avenue) was as unreal as talking with John Wayne around the main street of a ghost town. . . In an incredible Hegelian capriole, Cuba had taken a great leap *forward*but had fallen *backward*. Now in the poor clothes of the people, in the bastard automobiles (except of course, the official limousines or the swift late-model Mercedes in the motorcade of the Premier), in the famished faces, it was seen that we *were* underdevelopment. In theory, socialism nationalizes wealth. In Cuba, by a strange perversion of the practice, they had socialized poverty. Guillermo Cabrera Infante "Mea Cuba" --- In FairfieldLife@yahoogroups.com, turquoiseb <no_reply@...> wrote: > > --- In FairfieldLife@yahoogroups.com, "Alex Stanley" <j_alexander_stanley@> > wrote: > > > > --- In FairfieldLife@yahoogroups.com, turquoiseb <no_reply@> wrote: > > > > > > --- In FairfieldLife@yahoogroups.com, "Alex Stanley" > > > <j_alexander_stanley@> wrote: > > > > > > > > Link works, but I remain completely baffled by the whole > > > > Lady Gaga phenomenon. To me, that was just a half-naked > > > > woman screaming into a microphone while other musicians > > > > play random noises. > > > > > > Thank you for this, Alex. I was beginning to fear > > > that standards here had reached a new low. People > > > are such suckers for a little cheap flash. > > > > I'm more a sucker for a good dance beat and a catchy > > melody. > > Exactly. I have nothing against Lady Gaga per se, > but if I had ever heard a single song of hers on > the radio, with no "special visual effects," I > would never have paid the least bit of attention > to it. Modern-day elevator music. > > I don't blame her for this; I blame MTV. They took > the music out of the music industry by relating it > in most people's minds with the visuals. Either a > band or a singer dancing around and acting like > drama queens onstage or a series of non-related > visual images chosen for their impact, and rarely > a thought to the music itself. > > W.r.t. Lady Gaga, I just don't think there is all > that much there there. Take away the visuals and > leave only the music and I've heard better singers > at Holiday Inns. Sorry, but it's true. >
