Qué, a nivel subatómico, da lugar a la fuerza normal?
El principio de exclusión.
WTF!
The only blog not featuring an ipod.
Insensatez
En un extraño juego de la evolución
social
hemos adquirido, como el armadillo, una coraza
y como el pavorreal, bellos colores.
Y cómo muestra irónica de la coevolución
de dos distintos genes
solo los que saben apreciar esos colores vivos
sobre esa placa hostil
logran coger.
Esa coraza hermosa,
armadura reactiva,
tiene grietas, hondas y delgadas
por las que se nos cuelan los amores
Nosotros las parchamos, prestos
porque no vaya ser que alguien nos vea
no nos quiera coger, y se enamore.
Definición
Cuando se está triste nada sale bien, no se disfruta ni el porno.
Talvez esa sea la definición de estar triste.
Fuck! Can this be bloody possible?
In the beginning, God created the heavens and earth. No plant or shrub had yet sprung up, for Yahweh God had not sent rain upon the earth, and there was no one to till the soil. Moisture would well up from the earth and water the surface of the ground
Yahweh God formed man from the soil of the ground
And breathed into his nostrils the breath of life.
En el espiritú de las preguntas talmúdicas, e inspirado por una analogía de Toño hace poco más de un año, me permito poner lo siguiente a consideración, otra vez:
Supongan que tienen a su disposición el número que ustedes deseen de piezas de LEGO (a.k.a. tentes) con la propiedad especial de poder unirse a otras piezas por cualquiera de sus caras (no como en los LEGOs tradicionales, que solo lo pueden hacer por dos de ellas).
Supongan que además tienen la propiedad de que la unión entre dos piezas se deshace instantáneamente después de un cierto tiempo de estar unidas, dónde este tiempo es proporcional al número de puntos (muescas, protuberancias, como quieran llamarle a los puntitos de los LEGOs) por los que están unidas. Una vez deshecha una unión las piezas se rigen por la fuerza de gravedad.
Elijan un organismo vivo cualquiera.
Sin restricciones de tiempo ni espacio (pero siempre finitos) ¿Es posible reproducirlo a cabalidad, en estructura y procesos, usando las piezas de LEGO con esta propiedad de que las uniones se deshacen en en tiempo?
*Nota, pueden suponer que las piezas son tan pequeñas como quieran, sin que esto merme su capacidad de armar las configuraciones que deseen. Ingnoremos las fuerzas nucleares debiles y fuertes, aunque no creo que las piezas tuvieran que ser tan pequeñas como para que éstas fueran importantes.
*Una persona ha venido con el siguiente comentario:
Una cuestion interesante es la posibilidad de crear gradientes de concentración y la subsecuente fuerza de difusión, que juegan un papel importante en la vida. ¿Cómo podría lograrse esto?
Blogs
Hay muchos tipos de kitsch que plagan a la comunidad de jóvenes clase-medieros este país.
Uno de éstos se ve reflejado en los blogs cuyo contenido consiste en fotografías tomadas en México de letreros con mala ortografía, o de anuncios rotulados a mano con dibujos creativos. En fin, fotografían lo que "está mal del mundo" para que la gente se ría de ello.
Son los blogeros sentados en su torre de marfil donde la ortografía es perfecta, el diseño gráfico está dictado por MTV y los propietarios siempre pueden pagar publicidad impresa full color en gran formato.
A todos ellos (incluyendo a los que son mis cuates) les pregunto:
¿Por qué no fotografían y se ríen de su puta madre?
A new eye
I'd like to become more of an artist, and less of a geek.
And when I say an artist I talk not of creating, but rather of seeing
the world, the people, just the wind
the way an artist does, with no prejudice no reserve.
I want no fancy clothes, no fancy life,
nor to belong to a clique of pretty looking people
nor to engage in taks of beauty and meaning.
I just want to enjoy
and that is all I want to say concerning life.
Influenza Music (sorry, no kitsch crap)
Certainly interesting. Explanation.
(if the thingie won't work try http://www.binarybooty.com/-download-4578fe3f05.htm)
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Ever since she had left him, back in the day, a hate for Fridays was ever present in him. Grunting he would wake up on the eve of weekends, thinking of that dreadful hours ahead. It wasn't like he hated entire Fridays, for he often enjoyed the morning duties, but it was afternoons, Friday afternoons that brought such a sadness into him.
What actually bothered him was to have a Friday afternoon routine, particularly one which was identical to any other weekday routine. Going back to work like every other day after an ordinary meal, and going home at night walking the same path to the just-as-usual crowded metro and arriving home to the same old computer. In part it was the company he missed, but above all he missed the novelty of every single Friday, the adventure of finding something new and exciting to eat and something unheard-of and relaxing to do afterwards.
It was then that he felt the most the weight of life upon his shoulders. As if every single failure, forgotten dream or angsty hour, added a gram or two to a burden that he carried since childhood. He would look down at his footsteps behind when he stepped on loose ground, trying to see if his feet sank more than usual in those Friday afternoons, when his beloved dusk seemed to scream at him: you fool!.
Together
Neat
I can't really see why people complain so much about emos and the rest of them who put a bit too much eye shadow on.
Hope I make my point
In the end, every one is fuckable.
Irony
There is a widespread belief that introspection is one of the defining characteristics of the human psyche. We can, how ever, not be certain that other information processing systems, such as other animals, also poses this property. It is when thinking about this matters that one more directly approaches that blurry line between unconscious and conscious beings.
We are so accustomed to symbolic reasoning, that we cannot imagine introspection with out a notion of "the self" and of it's relationship with "the environment". How ever, on the wake of connectionist approaches to cognitive science, it is perhaps time to give a broader definition of introspection.
That isn't, how ever, what I had in mind when I started writing this.
Don't you think it is an irony, that this, the quintessential human feature, is in many cases a curse in that it disables us from enjoying the world around us?
Independence in the 21st century
Pristina, Feb 16 2009. Celebrations on the aniversary of Kosovo's unilateral declaration of independence. The red flag with the bicephalous eagle is the albanian flag. The blue flag with stars and a yellow outline (also on the bumper of the auto), is the flag of Kosovo. The stars and stripes one need not be introduced.
:)
We have this dreams and we have this life, and we will cry tomorrow, die of shame, if we keep them apart as we have done 'till now.
some day, like before
Rapido desde Belgrado, que esta bien padre. (sic)
The smell of green.
It is a beautiful afternoon in the Narvarte neighborhood.
The green of leaves on the perennial trees and the violet of the Jacarandas look so darn beautiful on the background of gray clouds. Time, it moves incredibly slow, as if the clouds and fog made its passage difficult.
And the birds... oh the birds! their singing uninterrupted by the roar of the airplanes.
All of that beauty I try to capture trough my senses, in an attempt to soak in it and rid my mind of worryness, of sadness.
I want the birds to sing inside of me as well.
No better way to call it
"Munir Bachir (1930-1997) was born in Mosul (Iraq), into a long established family of musicians. His father taught him to play the oud at a very young age. He then spent six years studying at the Baghdad Institute of Music, directed by Sharif Muhyiddin. Later, he completed a doctorate of musicology in Budapest. As a passionate defender of Arab music, Munir Bachir was in constant rebellion against the misrepresentation of this music and its use for commercial ends.
He spent several years fighting to establish his lute as a solo recital instrument and travelled the world as a true ambassador for Arab classical music, bringing it to specialists as well as to a larger audience and restoring credentials to a music that had become debased through bending to the tastes of colonial nostalgia."
La burbuja
Otros
Eran otros tiempos, aquellos de los sueños
y entre ellos y estos había un puente
que no soportó la crecida de la corriente,
del tiempo.
Eran otros lugares, aquellos de los sueños
y entre ellos y estos había un cable
que transmitía las risas y los llantos
y que calló cuando cayó la luna en el abismo.