So I also hope you can excuse my English.
But believe me my Spanish is a little worse.
So I'm going to read something from the chapter to start.
It's a piece--
I try to work in English now after discovering
that I do feel comfortable being translated.
And here I discovered that really
before that almost nobody understood Spanish.
So I feel like I was a goose or a clown somebody that's new,
what I was saying.
So I instead try to do use my basic English
and appropriating some things like that to speak for myself,
not let anybody else talk, be my own language.
So I do some pieces in English using cliches,
using the internet appropriation,
whatever, obviously in the States.
This is a piece called "A Comedy, I Wonder Why."
This poem was composed using a remote control as meter.
Every single text here was written especially
for this occasion, a reading that never took place.
So in case I someday publish it, please don't consider it a TV
but just another book.
Each part, each poem is divided according
to the rules of zapping.
A poem beginning here can be interrupted at any point.
And then we can return to it later only to find it out
in a late stage of.
So in any moment the text can.
This is the end of translation.
I will not speak.
I will just read.
I will read from this page.
I will not think or talk directly to you.
I will not.
I will not use my mother tongue or smuggle fruits or drugs
into your US.
I will leave mother tongue behind.
I will even forget the name of my language.
I will have no language for you.
I will show any documentation you request.
I will just use English in this land.
I will not refer to my--
This is exactly what you always ask for.
So I will not use my mother tongue anymore.
This is the end of it.
Translation, the end of it.
It of end.
The end of it.
The end of translation.
But don't worry.
I'm really trying to give you fragments
which can have a meaning by themselves even though they
are really loose parts.
They just look like any new remote control--
no, just like any remote control user would do.
In September 11, there was an attack
on American global culture.
And the Beatles became a crucial part
of American global culture.
Then the 1st September, 11 was Yoko Ono.
Most poets have no sense of how to sell cars.
This is a big problem.
We have to fix poetry Maybe publish a monthly magazine
called 'Popular Poetics.'
In Mexico there is one.
Looking for a long movie, I became seduced by ads, he said.
The next strike on American culture
is not going to happen in the material, visible, world, not
even places like Pearl Harbor or New York
but against spiritual entities like English.
They will bring down the syntax, bring down the possibility
of putting words together.
We will just have spare parts, loose words here and there
but no possible relationship between them, he's saying.
Just words here and there, each alone by itself.
Words, words, words.
A TV, which thinks about itself in each of its 10,000 channels.
This TV would be the single most intelligent living
being on the planet.
I'm now a game of changing channels.
If I lose my visa, half of my life is gone,
said the character in this night's episode.
I was watching TV when I decided next week I was
going to dream of helicopters.
I saw the best minds of a generation destroyed
by Ginsberg.
How did it happen?
I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed
by Ginsberg?
How did it happen?
Beats me.
The only thing left after the end of it
are going to be accents, not languages, just one world
language.
And the only thing remaining, the languages of the past
are going to be accents, accents and nothing
more after the end of it.
Rewind.
Words, words, words.
No speech, speech disappeared the moment
we all begin to talk after one, psychoanalysis, two, Marxism.
three, the universities, four, Davin antin.
TV is far more interesting than the common human mind.
Between watching one hour of TV or listening to my neighbors,
I would immediately pick two hours of TV.
Suddenly, I'm hearing a voice in my head reminding me
not everything is TV.
This voice is telling me things that
make me think this voice is this page talking to me, telling me
I'm not exactly reading.
I am not reading exactly too well.
My pronunciation is bothering me.
This voice I'm hearing from my head
is my own writing, speaking.
I have the feeling this voice in my head
is calling somebody or giving instructions to soldiers.