Oklahoma Mon Amour (2021) - full transcript
In the mid-nineties while living in Mexico, the U.S. journalist, Leam Gaertner, and his wife, Fiona, had two sons: Nico and Sebastián. Political threats prompted the couple's relocation to Ava, Oklahoma, where tragedy also occurred. Eighteen years later, after struggling with his father, who became a bitter man, and with the disappearance of his mother, Sebastian travels by road from Oklahoma to Mexico to find his long-gone brother, Nico. Sebastian is determined to unveil the buried secrets that destroyed their family in the past.
Crónica, Mexico City. July 15, 1988
FOREIGN ACTIVISM: A REASON
FOR CONTROVERSY IN MEXICO
Several years ago, in Mexico,
a significant number
of foreign journalists and activists
moved into our country.
Some local groups have shown
hostility towards the activities
that these new visitors are carrying out.
Fiona Gaertner, an English activist
and wife of U.S. journalist Leam Gaertner,
was among the victims.
The Gaertners met in Puebla
and later they moved to Mexico City,
where their children
Nico and Sebastián were born.
As they were still young children, the...
(continues on page 18)
"Closed"
How did you get in, Sebastian?
My name is Nico.
I'm a journalist.
At least, I'm trying to be.
But here I am again
at 5:00 in the morning
in my rented studio
in Puebla,
not sleeping and not
writing a single paragraph.
I think of everything,
obsessively,
except the article
I have to write.
This is how my story began.
Coming back.
From England to Mexico.
I was just 17 when I came here,
alone,
dying to finally see the
gigantic city
where my mother
said I was born: Mexico City.
I've been a bundle
of contradictions ever since.
At 17, I was still a sad kid,
a little arrogant, maybe,
but also awkward.
Now I spend my days walking,
looking at everything,
turning over rocks,
trying to write a good story.
For me, London reemerges
everywhere I look in Mexico.
As Martín Caparrós says,
"We arrive, carrying what we think
we are going to see from somewhere else."
Like the old Chroniclers
of the Indies, right?
I live here in Puebla,
and I travel to Mexico City
once a week to work,
so I get the best of both
worlds: beautiful Puebla,
and Joint Visions , a cool
new journal based in el D.F.,
where I managed
to land a job.
November 11, 2016.
"Mexico City and the Global City"
By Nico Gaertner
The 21st century
is characterized by a growing...
a growing movement of trans...
I'm from here.
I was born here.
Hm, how ironic.
I could've stayed in London,
but for what?
They wouldn't even
let me see my mother.
What kind of person does
that to a 16-year-old?
I'm a hybrid, thinking
in English and Spanish,
a product of development
and underdevelopment,
sometimes coherent,
but usually incoherent.
And then... there's Monica.
Monica is Chilean.
I met her studying journalism
in Puebla,
and she is the best thing
that's happened to me
since I came here.
But like all dreams, love is
subject to brutal awakenings
into silence, fear,
a lack of something more.
When we say that the megacities are
When we say that all megacities
are starting to resemble each other...
Ah!
Fuck!
You're fucking kidding me!
Is this a joke? I can't write anything!
Not this guy in the hat
who's always staring.
I guess it's only fair.
I deserve some payback
for sticking my nose
into other people's lives.
Hello?
I dropped by your house yesterday,
but no one answered the door.
You really came?
Yes, I came by around 3 p.m.
Can you call me later?
I'm kind of busy.
-Okay.
-Cool.
-Okay, later.
-Okay.
Nico... look...
I know you came, but...
you've got me so annoyed!
Nothing flows right with you.
You might want to go on like this,
but what about everyone else?
I came from Chile to study here,
to feel good,
and then I wind up involved with you,
the weirdest guy out there.
You should go back to London,
or the U.S., or, I don't know.
Do as you please.
Nico, don't come back.
And that's how Monica
disappeared from my life.
She got sick of me,
simple as that.
She'll go back to Chile after
she's finished studying here.
I'm sure she'll do well,
unlike my mother.
What happened to my mother
could never happen to Monica.
What could be worse
than ending up
in a mental institution
in London,
the cold city of London,
with its cold streets and
its equally cold psychiatrists.
Monica.
Monica always seems to find
the story that needs telling,
those particular angles
I always miss.
She says Chile is an island
with only seven faces,
and hers is one of them.
I think she got that
from reading
about the films of Raul Ruiz.
...and the last Thursday of every month.
We'll be waiting for you!
The people of Puebla shouldn't worry
too much about safety in their state.
With the "Safe Puebla" plan, we will
install more security cameras and lights
to cut danger and crime.
...all night long, three-dollar drinks
all night long.
Contest Thursdays in Rancho Oklahoma City.
We'll be waiting for you!
...see you there...
...Grateful
to God that he allowed me
to be born in
the United States of America.
I love this country.
I love this country! And...
Beginning at 9:00 a.m.,
when the new President gives his inaugural speech...
Members of congress
talk about...
Hello?
Hi, where are you?
Hey, I'm still
in Oklahoma.
You're still here?
Why?
I told you
I was gonna go follow
in my parents' footsteps
and took some back roads.
I can't find anything
to listen to out here.
Babe, you can't follow
in your parents' footsteps.
They travelled 20 years ago.
- I know, but I can try.
- Yeah.
And then,
another 10 hours to Mexico.
But hey, I'm driving.
I'll send you a message later?
Okay, I love you.
Love you.
...will be performing at the inauguration
of the new president...
This could mean that not all...
...It's Marxism re-written
and cut to fit a Black context.
Hey, I know you're busy, but...
...With
the baptism of the holy spirit,
evidence shows
they were speaking in...
Criticized
by the president elect,
who called climate change
a hoax.
I do not believe that
climate change is a hoax.
Okay, that's important
for the president to hear.
Taking it further,
Johnson told Ferris that if...
My country is falling apart,
and here I am heading
south to Mexico.
What if they build that
damn wall while I am there?
It could be for the best,
really.
Maybe staying in that country
that I don't even know
is just what I need.
Dad,
I am on my way to Mexico,
wondering what made you
and mom settle there.
It's ridiculous
that I'm Mexican!
It's ridiculous that you insist
that my name has
a written accent over the á .
If you only would've had
the decency of telling me more
and not just focus on that,
with your bizarre jokes,
honestly.
What if I was to say
to my brother:
"Nico, I started a letter
for you, but...
"I... I don't know what to say.
I'm so torn.
How will I approach you
when I get to Mexico City?"
I don't know. I feel that
that's a little too dramatic.
Why don't you just say,
"Hey, this is your brother
Sebastian from Oklahoma?"
Okay, that won't work.
Uh, you could just say,
"What's up jerk?"
Sure, I could say that.
Or I don't know,
just show up at his work.
What is it?
Joint Visions?
Yeah, that's where he works.
That was the only thing
I was able to find online.
I mean, for sure.
Wow, and now you're
on your way to Mexico City.
Does your dad know?
No, I went
to his house this morning,
and of course, he was there
gloomy and mean, as usual.
Uh, can you please just look up
the address
for Joint Visions again?
Yeah, sure, um,
I actually have it right here.
It's on Avenida Juarez
and Revilla...?
How do you say that?
Um, Revillagigedo?
This city drags us along.
It grows like an animal deformed
by some unknown drug.
With no mold, no plan.
Like a chain of lights, cars,
and buildings.
It is monstrous and beautiful all at once.
But what isn't beautiful in...
What's this guy's problem?
Lost something?
I've got to get back to Puebla.
I get so paranoid here
in el D.F.
or Mexico City, or CDMX,
or whatever
they want to call it next.
In the Rear Window,
Jefferies also spied
on his front neighbors,
or did he?
In Hitchcock's film,
Jefferies was a photographer
whose life was paused
because of a broken leg.
I'm more like some
disturbed voyeur,
digging into people's lives
thanks to lack of sleep
and a mental block.
Or in order to turn
my back on my own,
let's say...
"Private Miseries."
That's what my favorite writer,
Leila Guerriero,
would call the things
inside these four walls:
a chair, a table,
a kitchen (inside a closet, )
a bed, and random piles
of books and clothes.
Oh, and the cat of course,
but she is far
from a private misery.
What if I sorted out
all my clothes
in my kitchen drawers
like Slavoj Zizek?
He says it adds
something special to his life.
The Hitchcockian characters
across the street
seem to live normal lives.
I hope no one sees me
and decides to say hello.
I can't hold
a normal conversation.
Here I am again at 5:00
in the morning,
not sleeping and not
writing a single paragraph.
What if I wrote about that
building and the people in it?
I could start with that kid,
staring into space,
looking for something
in the stratosphere.
That could be the start
of a beautiful story.
We walk, we move,
but we never leave home.
This watch is the same one
I asked my mum
to buy for me in London,
a long time ago.
Leila Guerreiro
quotes Rafael Gumucio
from Against Flaubert.
For Flaubert, he says,
Madame Bovary is a vengeance
against her father,
against her uncles, against
the entire city of Ruan,
against books, against nuns,
against Republicans...
almost against everything.
The argument is unsettling
to me, but also intriguing,
like so many others
from Gumucio,
or Leila, or Caparrós,
or Villoro,
or Cadena Martínez,
who I read obsessively.
Hey Nico! How are things?
Pretty good. Well... trying to write.
And you're studying
there in Puebla, right?
I already got a job.
In Mexico City.
Okay, I read what you sent me.
It's pretty good,
but I can tell you are...
tense, stiff.
What's up with that?
You have to tell that story
with a little more...
tenderness.
Tenderness?!
What do you do all day long?
I walk.
But, what else?
Not much more.
I suggest...
you take a chill pill!
You want to write?
Let your hair down, Nico!
Ugh.
Stop pulling your hair out when writing!
Today was a good day.
I wasn't able
to start the story
of the kid staring into space,
but something supernatural
did happen.
I finally spoke to Alberto
Cadena Martínez,
all the way from Colombia.
Brilliant!
That really is supernatural.
He called me out though.
Hm, "me retó,"
as Monica would say.
Good thing too, since
I have such writer's block.
Alberto says the key
to writing a good story
is a particular
point of view,
which doesn't just magically
emerge out of research,
out of what I've been doing.
I do fuck all.
I walk around not even
knowing what to look for.
But they say that can be an
advantage for good writers too.
The truth is,
my effort at this story
has become like a tornado
sweeping me along.
Like in Oklahoma.
321?
What is 321?
You're right, Alberto.
I've got to put an end
to this neurosis
and think... think calmly.
- Good day.
- Yeah.
The usual?
Yeah.
Salud.
Oh, are you from Mexico?
Do I look Mexican?
He says that all the time.
Why?
He used to live in Mexico
for the longest time.
That's why he comes in here.
The music.
Hey, Leam.
How goes it?
I liked it better when Luis
played the old Mexican tunes.
Get him to play
the old Mexican songs.
I'm with you on that.
I'll take your recommendation.
What inhabits
this burning red earth?
Is it abundance,
or the vastness of a desert
plagued by churches,
oil, and highways
that leads to an obscure border
like a blind, mad animal
that crashes into a wall
it cannot see?
The wind blows,
and we are far away,
and every border reminds us
that we cross it only when
we're searching for something;
otherwise, every cage looks
brilliantly tidy and clean,
like this one,
where I find myself.
Are you hanging out
or drinking or eating or...?
I'll be back
in a minute for you.
Nico.
I've been unable
to write you a normal letter.
So...
Here's what I really wanna say.
When I found out that you,
Rose, and mom were gone,
all I could do was imagine
where you were.
I spent hours looking
in those geography magazines
that mom brought home
from England.
I was looking
for you guys in them.
Remember that feeling we had
that nothing would happen to us
as long as dad was around?
Well, now he was
the only one around,
but I was six, and he had
shut off completely.
I don't know anything about you
or if mom is in Mexico.
But at least I know
where you are.
I'll find you guys.
I can't wait to get down there,
especially now.
Have you seen
what's happening in the US?
Maybe you can get me
a job down there.
I also know that Latin American
cities are gigantic,
one of them being Mexico City,
where I'm headed to find you.
Instead, Ava, our Oklahoma town
is very, let's say, lonely.
In Ava, you don't see
many people walking,
except those loners that
traverse endless pathways
seemingly going from one fast
food joint to a dollar store.
And while shiny cars drive
through town anonymously,
other lonely people hit
one bar after the other.
I might sound dramatic,
but this is what I see.
One of those people
that hits those bars
during the day
is our father, Leam.
...Drug lord
is now in U.S. custody
facing several charges...
Today began the trial in the case
of the motorcyclist
who drove into a police station
in Laredo.
The trial will take place...
Your call has been forwarded...
...The storm
initiated the conformation
of a tornado
that most likely will pass
near the city of Moore
in the State of Oklahoma.
Residents are already
taking the necessary...
Federal Highway 85
Mexico
On the other side,
everything sparkles,
bathed in a light
that blinds our eyes.
The lines curve,
the roads become irregular,
nature is wild and alive.
Like a party
with no written end.
Like an impossible
and mysterious world.
Why did I decide to write
about the world now,
of all times,
right at the start of the
Post-Truth age...
hm... like Villoro said
in his talk on Tuesday.
Puebla belongs to another time.
It's like a Parisian
city-scape,
frozen in time,
the cover of Benjamin's
Arcade Project,
but in Mexico.
Re-thinking Benjamin
in the context of Latin America
The Theorist of the Modern City.
Berlin, Paris, Naples.
There's no one
like Walter Benjamin.
He's unique, original,
inexhaustible.
And reading him does me good.
I didn't know that the Parisian
arcades he describes
are so much
like the ones here in Puebla.
But these are tangled, baroque.
Mexico is not the capital
of the world
like Paris was
in the nineteenth century.
But why would anyone
want to live
in the center of the world,
anyway?
But why would anyone want to be
in the center of the world anyway?
Here.
I'd love to be
like Benjamin, hm.
To see the world
through these urban surfaces.
Here in Puebla,
everything is exposed
and concealed
at the same time.
And here, in Mexico City,
even more.
In this giant city,
there's no time for fiction.
Anyone who's not wide-awake
gets lost, forever.
To each their own.
Did this guy lose something too?
This is what's called
"The Paranoia of Loneliness."
Chiguagua, Gómez-Palacio, Cananéa.
Welcome, sir.
We can give you information.
My children, myself,
are little more
than seeds adrift.
My children, swept away
by the daily winds,
ask themselves questions whose
meaning they've yet to know.
One day, they'll stop, and all
the travelers you now see,
passing other travelers
on foreign soil,
at bus stations,
in the streets,
will be the very proof that
what hurls us into the world
is what also forces us
to endure, to return
to the origin of all things
when my seeds were newly
bursting with light,
like a blameless
and brilliant gift.
...58 to Mérida and Yucatán,
now completing boarding through door 18.
Hello... I'm a little lost,
but I'm going to Mexico City.
...3700.
Please head immediately
to door number 17.
You bribed him to play
my Mexican music, huh?
Leam.
So, are you a Brit?
Last time, you asked me
if I was from Mexico.
Yeah.
No, I'm from Oklahoma.
What I told you was last summer
I went to England, for school.
Were you in London?
Uh, yeah, for about a month.
I was, like, drinking
a little too much.
Um, why?
Why do you ask?
Don't ask.
It's just a question.
Why, Leam?
What?
In the late sixties...
your dad became totally involved
in the movement of the day.
And after the Tlatelolco
Massacre in Mexico...
he kept going back,
returning to cover
the student protests
against the government.
Since he was persecuted here...
He decided to stay there,
in Mexico.
- He was about your age.
- I don't know...
I know you don't know
much about all this.
Everything your dad, Leam,
struggled for in the sixties
and seventies.
Everything he wrote
as a journalist was brilliant.
And look at the world
today, Sebastian.
It's been real hard for me
to witness your dad's downfall,
when so much is happening...
That needs to be analyzed,
contested,
with intelligence.
Look!
What's this catnip stuff?
Ah, the catnip stuff.
It may sound funny.
Even catnip was an issue.
But you know,
after he met your mom,
your mother,
their activism became stronger.
She was even tougher.
Fiona... incredible woman.
A short time after you
were born in Mexico,
you and your brother, Nico,
she was kidnapped.
How... how come my dad
never told me about this?
Why are you telling me this?
'Cause there has been
too much silence.
We've been quiet for too long.
When y'all came back
from Mexico in...
'98. That's when Mom
was pregnant with Rose.
In nine... yeah,
that'd be right.
The nineties were difficult.
Very difficult in Mexico.
They had no money,
but at least they had a house
here... here in Oklahoma.
And when they came back,
everything seemed so great.
You know, your brother, Nico...
he loved that house,
more so than you.
Your dad...
Seems him and little Nico
were like... like this, you know?
They were always playing
at writing stories
for the newspapers
up in the attic.
Remember?
No.
But your parents would not stop,
and vicious people
are everywhere.
Leam, Fiona...
did not have a chance
in Mexico, or even here.
Why didn't she take me?
Why did she only
take Rose and Nico?
She did take Nico, Sebastian...
but she didn't take Rose.
They came back from Mexico
because of that house.
That house!
What!?
It happened
on 321 Walnut Rd., in Ava.
The victim has been identified
as 2-year old Rose Gaertner.
Around 6 a.m.,
police responded to a call
of people screaming
outside the Gaertner's home.
When officers got to the scene,
they found Rose lying
on the sidewalk.
She died at the scene.
...identified as 2-year
old Rose Gaertner...
Screaming
outside... she died at the scene.
The girl's parents have stated
they were the target
of the assault.
They fear the lack
of evidence...
the lack of evidence
in the crime...
...Porche model mattresses
are on sale from $220.
Buy on credit for 15 monthly payments
without interest,
and we'll throw in a gift box.
From the 4th through the 17th
of this month, take advantage
of the credit we're offering
at our locations throughout the city.
Participate from now
until the end of the month.
No commitments attached!
Ma'am, we're calling you because your son
has a bullying problem.
Really? Who's bothering him?
No, ma'am, your son
is the one bullying others.
You need to take steps
to modify his behavior.
Our psychologists here in Mexico City
can help you and your son.
Call one of our offices
for a free consultation at 55 52 43...
Take advantage of the enhanced
credit that will be easier to pay off.
With just 7.5% interest
until January 31st.
Participate also in our monthly raffles
where you can win...
...I really enjoy it
because it's based on poems
by Mario Benedetti and Oliverio Girondo.
The movie has a poem called
"El espantapájaros" [The Scarecrow],
which is what the movie
is based on,
that speaks of finding perfect love
or the love that left a mark on your life.
The main character is a prostitute
and the other character is a poet
who spends more time working on
advertising than on his career.
And the actor Nacha Guevara
plays the role of Death.
She wants to take him away
the day he stops writing poetry,
writing about feelings, love, sensations.
I love films.
I've seen a cult film
called Blade Runner.
What do you think of Blade Runner?
Oh, you don't understand me, do you?
"No understand."
I've read La muerte del estratega
[Death of a Strategist].
It's a beautiful book.
I like how it describes everyday details.
The main character of this novel
meets Simón Bolívar.
When he enters a room
to meet the Liberator of America,
there is a chair against the wall,
and he describes how the humidity
eats away at the wall.
As a kid, I would see
those drops of humidity
that looked like they were made of cotton
and I would play at breaking them apart.
I like that.
Álvaro Mutis is a great writer.
I've read a book called
Stories for After Making Love.
More than anything, I bought the book...
Good afternoon!
How do we get downtown?
We are downtown.
Where do you need to go?
-Right to downtown.
-This is downtown.
After this intersection and the next,
you'll find the Center Square
and the cathedral on your right.
-Oh, okay. Thanks.
-Sure.
"An imagined woman on the platform
of any metro station in this city.
A woman who did not arrive,
who didn't come
but nonetheless walks among the people
searching for the same exits as us.
An imagined woman,
lost in the forest of Chapultepec
or in the thickness of some dream.
An imagined woman, simply,
running away like all of them
from some photo no one has taken yet.
They walk with us, but don't know it,
they don't even imagine it.
We walk beside them on their behalf,
on the same uneven pavements
or step on imagined leaves,
perhaps already stepped on by them,
who hardly insinuate
the existence of the fall."
Sir... here.
-Here?
-I'm going to that building.
If you are going up the street,
I'll take you. Not a problem.
-Sir... No, no, no. Here.
-Okay.
Hello?
Hey.
I got kicked out
of Joint Visions.
Okay.
Yeah.
But I know what I'm gonna do.
I know the city.
I've been walking around.
I've been watching him.
He hangs out with this group
that looks like
a modern fucking version of the
Jack Kerouac-Neil Cassidy gang.
They do some kind
of activism or something.
I think he saw me.
- Hello?
- It's fine, Sebastian.
Just do whatever
you have to do.
I'll talk to you soon, okay?
Hey, guys.
This is Paige.
Leave a message,
and I'll get back
with you as soon as I can.
Hey guys, this is Paige.
Leave a message and I'll get
back with you as soon as I...
It's fine, Sebastian, just do
whatever you have to do.
I'll talk to you soon, okay?
Hey, guys.
This is Paige.
Leave a message and I'll get
back with you as soon as I...
It's fine, Sebastian; just do
whatever you have to do.
This is awkward.
Read this.
...instead, Ava,
our Oklahoma town,
is very, let's say, lonely.
In Ava, you don't see
many people walking,
except those loners that
traverse endless pathways
seemingly going
from one fast food...
...one of those people
that hits those bars
during the day
is our father, Leam.
I really can't do this
right now, okay?
Maybe later.
Okay.
I think, though,
that, after all,
my friends might be right
when they say
that the US is
a better place than Mexico
with all that violence,
and narcos, and...
but again,
what consolation is that?
Ava is a sad little town
that cannot grow
because of the backwardness
of its people.
My own backwardness
has kept me here.
And Dad's contempt towards me
is no more than
his unbearable pain.
I am just there
to pick up the pieces.
In the end, our faces
are reflected in a mirror
covered in a dust that
the rain cannot cleanse.
A mirror like the one I see
in this tidy and clean cell.
November 23, 2016
No place is safe.
Auschwitz, the Tlatelolco Massacre,
the Oklahoma City Bombing,
Hiroshima,
horrible just like Alain Resnais
showed in his film.
Venezuela, and the police brutality
in the U.S.
Conflicts between countries
are as paradoxical
as the ones that can destroy a family.
FOREIGN ACTIVISM: A REASON
FOR CONTROVERSY IN MEXICO
"Closed"
Welcome to skylines,
flight 382
to London Heathrow today.
Welcome on board.
Lovely to have you with us.
As we leave
towards the east this...
Dear, brother...
Now, crossing the Atlantic,
I can finally answer you,
at least in my head,
but with a sense
that you can hear me.
Images cloud my mind
while that little Oklahoma
town, Ava, appears in flashes.
The reds and oranges
are what I see the most.
So we anticipate
pushing back
a few minutes
ahead of schedule.
The cabin crew will demonstrate
the safety equipment procedures
of this aircraft,
and we ask you to...
Now, crossing the
Atlantic, I think of the wall
that's someday meant to divide
Mexico and the US.
What a... hm... deplorable idea,
but of course, not surprising.
I'm glad you came
to Mexico, Sebastián.
I'm glad you saw a little of
the place where you were born,
although you came
to save me, I know.
Smart move.
I'm glad you didn't just
send me a text, dear brother.
And that your
girlfriend understood,
that she didn't give up.
emanates immense tenderness.
Violence can disrupt your life
without even touching you,
like the spinning
winds of a tornado.
While Monica heard
horror stories
about the brutality
of Pinochet in her attic,
in another attic,
I invented stories
with my father and Lloyd.
Remember Lloyd?"
They were always
playing at writing stories
for the newspapers
up in the attic.
Remember?
It was like a game,
not knowing
that something devastating
was coming our way.
DEBATE REGARDING TLATELOLCO
Seeing you has
made me think again
about the Tlatelolco Massacre,
which our father reported,
and the Oklahoma City bombing,
which is somehow part
of our own story.
... Believe that
a 1,200-pound car-bomb is what
ripped through the nine-story building
shortly after 9:00 this morning.
- Many of the victims...
- And years later,
even dad's favorite bar
in Ava burned down.
- Hm.
- On Tuesday of last week,
a lightning strike
and the fire that followed...
...gutted Leam Gaertner's
"happy place."
Fire grew fast in this beloved bar
of Ava with very little time to...
And thinking
about our mother,
put away in London
for as long as I can remember,
I think of what Tomás
Eloy Martínez once said:
'When we read that there were
one hundred thousand victims
'in a tsunami in Bangladesh,
'the data shocks us,
but it does not move us.
'If we read, instead,
the tragedy of a woman
'who has been left alone
in the world after a tsunami
'and we followed step-by-step
the history of her losses,
'we'd know everything there is
to know about that tsunami
'and all there is to know
about chance
'and about involuntary
and sudden misfortunes.'
Your road trip brought all
of this to me, dear brother.
It reminded me of the good
life we had in Oklahoma.
February 8, 2017
But there are millions
of other stories out there.
Where did the 21st century
go wrong?
The planet is full
of dictators, liars, weapons,
and yet we cling
to the illusion
that we are moving forward.
That's why I read
Walter Benjamin.
I don't believe
in that progress either,
especially when I walk,
looking around obsessively,
trying to understand...
something.
That's what drove
Mónica away, I'm sure.
Maybe as I try to write,
a nuclear bomb is
crossing the Atlantic.
Maybe, right now, as I walk,
the world is turning
into a mushroom cloud
in which we all burn like
delicate autumn leaves,
slowly growing dark
and turning into fragile,
gray, absurd ashes.
JOINT VISIONS.
Mexico City, March 16, 2017
Chronicles
Oklahoma Mon Amour
By Nico Gaertner
For Rose
In 1998, Fiona and Leam
Gaertner traveled for nine days
through the north of Mexico,
the infamous border,
the never-ending plains of Texas,
until reaching
the reddish Oklahoma territory.
Fiona's dry but playful British humor
helped them ease away
from their fearless activism.
She would say, for instance,
"England is an island
with only seven faces,
and mine is one of them."
Sebastián's, let's say, "road movie"
from 2016, also lasted nine days.
He was afraid to reach Mexico
and Latin America,
while thinking that "his" own country
was falling apart.
Oklahoma-- who would have thought--
is the place that unites
and separates them all,
as it is the center of so many stories
hidden underneath
that reddish land that stretches on...
FOREIGN ACTIVISM: A REASON
FOR CONTROVERSY IN MEXICO
Several years ago, in Mexico,
a significant number
of foreign journalists and activists
moved into our country.
Some local groups have shown
hostility towards the activities
that these new visitors are carrying out.
Fiona Gaertner, an English activist
and wife of U.S. journalist Leam Gaertner,
was among the victims.
The Gaertners met in Puebla
and later they moved to Mexico City,
where their children
Nico and Sebastián were born.
As they were still young children, the...
(continues on page 18)
"Closed"
How did you get in, Sebastian?
My name is Nico.
I'm a journalist.
At least, I'm trying to be.
But here I am again
at 5:00 in the morning
in my rented studio
in Puebla,
not sleeping and not
writing a single paragraph.
I think of everything,
obsessively,
except the article
I have to write.
This is how my story began.
Coming back.
From England to Mexico.
I was just 17 when I came here,
alone,
dying to finally see the
gigantic city
where my mother
said I was born: Mexico City.
I've been a bundle
of contradictions ever since.
At 17, I was still a sad kid,
a little arrogant, maybe,
but also awkward.
Now I spend my days walking,
looking at everything,
turning over rocks,
trying to write a good story.
For me, London reemerges
everywhere I look in Mexico.
As Martín Caparrós says,
"We arrive, carrying what we think
we are going to see from somewhere else."
Like the old Chroniclers
of the Indies, right?
I live here in Puebla,
and I travel to Mexico City
once a week to work,
so I get the best of both
worlds: beautiful Puebla,
and Joint Visions , a cool
new journal based in el D.F.,
where I managed
to land a job.
November 11, 2016.
"Mexico City and the Global City"
By Nico Gaertner
The 21st century
is characterized by a growing...
a growing movement of trans...
I'm from here.
I was born here.
Hm, how ironic.
I could've stayed in London,
but for what?
They wouldn't even
let me see my mother.
What kind of person does
that to a 16-year-old?
I'm a hybrid, thinking
in English and Spanish,
a product of development
and underdevelopment,
sometimes coherent,
but usually incoherent.
And then... there's Monica.
Monica is Chilean.
I met her studying journalism
in Puebla,
and she is the best thing
that's happened to me
since I came here.
But like all dreams, love is
subject to brutal awakenings
into silence, fear,
a lack of something more.
When we say that the megacities are
When we say that all megacities
are starting to resemble each other...
Ah!
Fuck!
You're fucking kidding me!
Is this a joke? I can't write anything!
Not this guy in the hat
who's always staring.
I guess it's only fair.
I deserve some payback
for sticking my nose
into other people's lives.
Hello?
I dropped by your house yesterday,
but no one answered the door.
You really came?
Yes, I came by around 3 p.m.
Can you call me later?
I'm kind of busy.
-Okay.
-Cool.
-Okay, later.
-Okay.
Nico... look...
I know you came, but...
you've got me so annoyed!
Nothing flows right with you.
You might want to go on like this,
but what about everyone else?
I came from Chile to study here,
to feel good,
and then I wind up involved with you,
the weirdest guy out there.
You should go back to London,
or the U.S., or, I don't know.
Do as you please.
Nico, don't come back.
And that's how Monica
disappeared from my life.
She got sick of me,
simple as that.
She'll go back to Chile after
she's finished studying here.
I'm sure she'll do well,
unlike my mother.
What happened to my mother
could never happen to Monica.
What could be worse
than ending up
in a mental institution
in London,
the cold city of London,
with its cold streets and
its equally cold psychiatrists.
Monica.
Monica always seems to find
the story that needs telling,
those particular angles
I always miss.
She says Chile is an island
with only seven faces,
and hers is one of them.
I think she got that
from reading
about the films of Raul Ruiz.
...and the last Thursday of every month.
We'll be waiting for you!
The people of Puebla shouldn't worry
too much about safety in their state.
With the "Safe Puebla" plan, we will
install more security cameras and lights
to cut danger and crime.
...all night long, three-dollar drinks
all night long.
Contest Thursdays in Rancho Oklahoma City.
We'll be waiting for you!
...see you there...
...Grateful
to God that he allowed me
to be born in
the United States of America.
I love this country.
I love this country! And...
Beginning at 9:00 a.m.,
when the new President gives his inaugural speech...
Members of congress
talk about...
Hello?
Hi, where are you?
Hey, I'm still
in Oklahoma.
You're still here?
Why?
I told you
I was gonna go follow
in my parents' footsteps
and took some back roads.
I can't find anything
to listen to out here.
Babe, you can't follow
in your parents' footsteps.
They travelled 20 years ago.
- I know, but I can try.
- Yeah.
And then,
another 10 hours to Mexico.
But hey, I'm driving.
I'll send you a message later?
Okay, I love you.
Love you.
...will be performing at the inauguration
of the new president...
This could mean that not all...
...It's Marxism re-written
and cut to fit a Black context.
Hey, I know you're busy, but...
...With
the baptism of the holy spirit,
evidence shows
they were speaking in...
Criticized
by the president elect,
who called climate change
a hoax.
I do not believe that
climate change is a hoax.
Okay, that's important
for the president to hear.
Taking it further,
Johnson told Ferris that if...
My country is falling apart,
and here I am heading
south to Mexico.
What if they build that
damn wall while I am there?
It could be for the best,
really.
Maybe staying in that country
that I don't even know
is just what I need.
Dad,
I am on my way to Mexico,
wondering what made you
and mom settle there.
It's ridiculous
that I'm Mexican!
It's ridiculous that you insist
that my name has
a written accent over the á .
If you only would've had
the decency of telling me more
and not just focus on that,
with your bizarre jokes,
honestly.
What if I was to say
to my brother:
"Nico, I started a letter
for you, but...
"I... I don't know what to say.
I'm so torn.
How will I approach you
when I get to Mexico City?"
I don't know. I feel that
that's a little too dramatic.
Why don't you just say,
"Hey, this is your brother
Sebastian from Oklahoma?"
Okay, that won't work.
Uh, you could just say,
"What's up jerk?"
Sure, I could say that.
Or I don't know,
just show up at his work.
What is it?
Joint Visions?
Yeah, that's where he works.
That was the only thing
I was able to find online.
I mean, for sure.
Wow, and now you're
on your way to Mexico City.
Does your dad know?
No, I went
to his house this morning,
and of course, he was there
gloomy and mean, as usual.
Uh, can you please just look up
the address
for Joint Visions again?
Yeah, sure, um,
I actually have it right here.
It's on Avenida Juarez
and Revilla...?
How do you say that?
Um, Revillagigedo?
This city drags us along.
It grows like an animal deformed
by some unknown drug.
With no mold, no plan.
Like a chain of lights, cars,
and buildings.
It is monstrous and beautiful all at once.
But what isn't beautiful in...
What's this guy's problem?
Lost something?
I've got to get back to Puebla.
I get so paranoid here
in el D.F.
or Mexico City, or CDMX,
or whatever
they want to call it next.
In the Rear Window,
Jefferies also spied
on his front neighbors,
or did he?
In Hitchcock's film,
Jefferies was a photographer
whose life was paused
because of a broken leg.
I'm more like some
disturbed voyeur,
digging into people's lives
thanks to lack of sleep
and a mental block.
Or in order to turn
my back on my own,
let's say...
"Private Miseries."
That's what my favorite writer,
Leila Guerriero,
would call the things
inside these four walls:
a chair, a table,
a kitchen (inside a closet, )
a bed, and random piles
of books and clothes.
Oh, and the cat of course,
but she is far
from a private misery.
What if I sorted out
all my clothes
in my kitchen drawers
like Slavoj Zizek?
He says it adds
something special to his life.
The Hitchcockian characters
across the street
seem to live normal lives.
I hope no one sees me
and decides to say hello.
I can't hold
a normal conversation.
Here I am again at 5:00
in the morning,
not sleeping and not
writing a single paragraph.
What if I wrote about that
building and the people in it?
I could start with that kid,
staring into space,
looking for something
in the stratosphere.
That could be the start
of a beautiful story.
We walk, we move,
but we never leave home.
This watch is the same one
I asked my mum
to buy for me in London,
a long time ago.
Leila Guerreiro
quotes Rafael Gumucio
from Against Flaubert.
For Flaubert, he says,
Madame Bovary is a vengeance
against her father,
against her uncles, against
the entire city of Ruan,
against books, against nuns,
against Republicans...
almost against everything.
The argument is unsettling
to me, but also intriguing,
like so many others
from Gumucio,
or Leila, or Caparrós,
or Villoro,
or Cadena Martínez,
who I read obsessively.
Hey Nico! How are things?
Pretty good. Well... trying to write.
And you're studying
there in Puebla, right?
I already got a job.
In Mexico City.
Okay, I read what you sent me.
It's pretty good,
but I can tell you are...
tense, stiff.
What's up with that?
You have to tell that story
with a little more...
tenderness.
Tenderness?!
What do you do all day long?
I walk.
But, what else?
Not much more.
I suggest...
you take a chill pill!
You want to write?
Let your hair down, Nico!
Ugh.
Stop pulling your hair out when writing!
Today was a good day.
I wasn't able
to start the story
of the kid staring into space,
but something supernatural
did happen.
I finally spoke to Alberto
Cadena Martínez,
all the way from Colombia.
Brilliant!
That really is supernatural.
He called me out though.
Hm, "me retó,"
as Monica would say.
Good thing too, since
I have such writer's block.
Alberto says the key
to writing a good story
is a particular
point of view,
which doesn't just magically
emerge out of research,
out of what I've been doing.
I do fuck all.
I walk around not even
knowing what to look for.
But they say that can be an
advantage for good writers too.
The truth is,
my effort at this story
has become like a tornado
sweeping me along.
Like in Oklahoma.
321?
What is 321?
You're right, Alberto.
I've got to put an end
to this neurosis
and think... think calmly.
- Good day.
- Yeah.
The usual?
Yeah.
Salud.
Oh, are you from Mexico?
Do I look Mexican?
He says that all the time.
Why?
He used to live in Mexico
for the longest time.
That's why he comes in here.
The music.
Hey, Leam.
How goes it?
I liked it better when Luis
played the old Mexican tunes.
Get him to play
the old Mexican songs.
I'm with you on that.
I'll take your recommendation.
What inhabits
this burning red earth?
Is it abundance,
or the vastness of a desert
plagued by churches,
oil, and highways
that leads to an obscure border
like a blind, mad animal
that crashes into a wall
it cannot see?
The wind blows,
and we are far away,
and every border reminds us
that we cross it only when
we're searching for something;
otherwise, every cage looks
brilliantly tidy and clean,
like this one,
where I find myself.
Are you hanging out
or drinking or eating or...?
I'll be back
in a minute for you.
Nico.
I've been unable
to write you a normal letter.
So...
Here's what I really wanna say.
When I found out that you,
Rose, and mom were gone,
all I could do was imagine
where you were.
I spent hours looking
in those geography magazines
that mom brought home
from England.
I was looking
for you guys in them.
Remember that feeling we had
that nothing would happen to us
as long as dad was around?
Well, now he was
the only one around,
but I was six, and he had
shut off completely.
I don't know anything about you
or if mom is in Mexico.
But at least I know
where you are.
I'll find you guys.
I can't wait to get down there,
especially now.
Have you seen
what's happening in the US?
Maybe you can get me
a job down there.
I also know that Latin American
cities are gigantic,
one of them being Mexico City,
where I'm headed to find you.
Instead, Ava, our Oklahoma town
is very, let's say, lonely.
In Ava, you don't see
many people walking,
except those loners that
traverse endless pathways
seemingly going from one fast
food joint to a dollar store.
And while shiny cars drive
through town anonymously,
other lonely people hit
one bar after the other.
I might sound dramatic,
but this is what I see.
One of those people
that hits those bars
during the day
is our father, Leam.
...Drug lord
is now in U.S. custody
facing several charges...
Today began the trial in the case
of the motorcyclist
who drove into a police station
in Laredo.
The trial will take place...
Your call has been forwarded...
...The storm
initiated the conformation
of a tornado
that most likely will pass
near the city of Moore
in the State of Oklahoma.
Residents are already
taking the necessary...
Federal Highway 85
Mexico
On the other side,
everything sparkles,
bathed in a light
that blinds our eyes.
The lines curve,
the roads become irregular,
nature is wild and alive.
Like a party
with no written end.
Like an impossible
and mysterious world.
Why did I decide to write
about the world now,
of all times,
right at the start of the
Post-Truth age...
hm... like Villoro said
in his talk on Tuesday.
Puebla belongs to another time.
It's like a Parisian
city-scape,
frozen in time,
the cover of Benjamin's
Arcade Project,
but in Mexico.
Re-thinking Benjamin
in the context of Latin America
The Theorist of the Modern City.
Berlin, Paris, Naples.
There's no one
like Walter Benjamin.
He's unique, original,
inexhaustible.
And reading him does me good.
I didn't know that the Parisian
arcades he describes
are so much
like the ones here in Puebla.
But these are tangled, baroque.
Mexico is not the capital
of the world
like Paris was
in the nineteenth century.
But why would anyone
want to live
in the center of the world,
anyway?
But why would anyone want to be
in the center of the world anyway?
Here.
I'd love to be
like Benjamin, hm.
To see the world
through these urban surfaces.
Here in Puebla,
everything is exposed
and concealed
at the same time.
And here, in Mexico City,
even more.
In this giant city,
there's no time for fiction.
Anyone who's not wide-awake
gets lost, forever.
To each their own.
Did this guy lose something too?
This is what's called
"The Paranoia of Loneliness."
Chiguagua, Gómez-Palacio, Cananéa.
Welcome, sir.
We can give you information.
My children, myself,
are little more
than seeds adrift.
My children, swept away
by the daily winds,
ask themselves questions whose
meaning they've yet to know.
One day, they'll stop, and all
the travelers you now see,
passing other travelers
on foreign soil,
at bus stations,
in the streets,
will be the very proof that
what hurls us into the world
is what also forces us
to endure, to return
to the origin of all things
when my seeds were newly
bursting with light,
like a blameless
and brilliant gift.
...58 to Mérida and Yucatán,
now completing boarding through door 18.
Hello... I'm a little lost,
but I'm going to Mexico City.
...3700.
Please head immediately
to door number 17.
You bribed him to play
my Mexican music, huh?
Leam.
So, are you a Brit?
Last time, you asked me
if I was from Mexico.
Yeah.
No, I'm from Oklahoma.
What I told you was last summer
I went to England, for school.
Were you in London?
Uh, yeah, for about a month.
I was, like, drinking
a little too much.
Um, why?
Why do you ask?
Don't ask.
It's just a question.
Why, Leam?
What?
In the late sixties...
your dad became totally involved
in the movement of the day.
And after the Tlatelolco
Massacre in Mexico...
he kept going back,
returning to cover
the student protests
against the government.
Since he was persecuted here...
He decided to stay there,
in Mexico.
- He was about your age.
- I don't know...
I know you don't know
much about all this.
Everything your dad, Leam,
struggled for in the sixties
and seventies.
Everything he wrote
as a journalist was brilliant.
And look at the world
today, Sebastian.
It's been real hard for me
to witness your dad's downfall,
when so much is happening...
That needs to be analyzed,
contested,
with intelligence.
Look!
What's this catnip stuff?
Ah, the catnip stuff.
It may sound funny.
Even catnip was an issue.
But you know,
after he met your mom,
your mother,
their activism became stronger.
She was even tougher.
Fiona... incredible woman.
A short time after you
were born in Mexico,
you and your brother, Nico,
she was kidnapped.
How... how come my dad
never told me about this?
Why are you telling me this?
'Cause there has been
too much silence.
We've been quiet for too long.
When y'all came back
from Mexico in...
'98. That's when Mom
was pregnant with Rose.
In nine... yeah,
that'd be right.
The nineties were difficult.
Very difficult in Mexico.
They had no money,
but at least they had a house
here... here in Oklahoma.
And when they came back,
everything seemed so great.
You know, your brother, Nico...
he loved that house,
more so than you.
Your dad...
Seems him and little Nico
were like... like this, you know?
They were always playing
at writing stories
for the newspapers
up in the attic.
Remember?
No.
But your parents would not stop,
and vicious people
are everywhere.
Leam, Fiona...
did not have a chance
in Mexico, or even here.
Why didn't she take me?
Why did she only
take Rose and Nico?
She did take Nico, Sebastian...
but she didn't take Rose.
They came back from Mexico
because of that house.
That house!
What!?
It happened
on 321 Walnut Rd., in Ava.
The victim has been identified
as 2-year old Rose Gaertner.
Around 6 a.m.,
police responded to a call
of people screaming
outside the Gaertner's home.
When officers got to the scene,
they found Rose lying
on the sidewalk.
She died at the scene.
...identified as 2-year
old Rose Gaertner...
Screaming
outside... she died at the scene.
The girl's parents have stated
they were the target
of the assault.
They fear the lack
of evidence...
the lack of evidence
in the crime...
...Porche model mattresses
are on sale from $220.
Buy on credit for 15 monthly payments
without interest,
and we'll throw in a gift box.
From the 4th through the 17th
of this month, take advantage
of the credit we're offering
at our locations throughout the city.
Participate from now
until the end of the month.
No commitments attached!
Ma'am, we're calling you because your son
has a bullying problem.
Really? Who's bothering him?
No, ma'am, your son
is the one bullying others.
You need to take steps
to modify his behavior.
Our psychologists here in Mexico City
can help you and your son.
Call one of our offices
for a free consultation at 55 52 43...
Take advantage of the enhanced
credit that will be easier to pay off.
With just 7.5% interest
until January 31st.
Participate also in our monthly raffles
where you can win...
...I really enjoy it
because it's based on poems
by Mario Benedetti and Oliverio Girondo.
The movie has a poem called
"El espantapájaros" [The Scarecrow],
which is what the movie
is based on,
that speaks of finding perfect love
or the love that left a mark on your life.
The main character is a prostitute
and the other character is a poet
who spends more time working on
advertising than on his career.
And the actor Nacha Guevara
plays the role of Death.
She wants to take him away
the day he stops writing poetry,
writing about feelings, love, sensations.
I love films.
I've seen a cult film
called Blade Runner.
What do you think of Blade Runner?
Oh, you don't understand me, do you?
"No understand."
I've read La muerte del estratega
[Death of a Strategist].
It's a beautiful book.
I like how it describes everyday details.
The main character of this novel
meets Simón Bolívar.
When he enters a room
to meet the Liberator of America,
there is a chair against the wall,
and he describes how the humidity
eats away at the wall.
As a kid, I would see
those drops of humidity
that looked like they were made of cotton
and I would play at breaking them apart.
I like that.
Álvaro Mutis is a great writer.
I've read a book called
Stories for After Making Love.
More than anything, I bought the book...
Good afternoon!
How do we get downtown?
We are downtown.
Where do you need to go?
-Right to downtown.
-This is downtown.
After this intersection and the next,
you'll find the Center Square
and the cathedral on your right.
-Oh, okay. Thanks.
-Sure.
"An imagined woman on the platform
of any metro station in this city.
A woman who did not arrive,
who didn't come
but nonetheless walks among the people
searching for the same exits as us.
An imagined woman,
lost in the forest of Chapultepec
or in the thickness of some dream.
An imagined woman, simply,
running away like all of them
from some photo no one has taken yet.
They walk with us, but don't know it,
they don't even imagine it.
We walk beside them on their behalf,
on the same uneven pavements
or step on imagined leaves,
perhaps already stepped on by them,
who hardly insinuate
the existence of the fall."
Sir... here.
-Here?
-I'm going to that building.
If you are going up the street,
I'll take you. Not a problem.
-Sir... No, no, no. Here.
-Okay.
Hello?
Hey.
I got kicked out
of Joint Visions.
Okay.
Yeah.
But I know what I'm gonna do.
I know the city.
I've been walking around.
I've been watching him.
He hangs out with this group
that looks like
a modern fucking version of the
Jack Kerouac-Neil Cassidy gang.
They do some kind
of activism or something.
I think he saw me.
- Hello?
- It's fine, Sebastian.
Just do whatever
you have to do.
I'll talk to you soon, okay?
Hey, guys.
This is Paige.
Leave a message,
and I'll get back
with you as soon as I can.
Hey guys, this is Paige.
Leave a message and I'll get
back with you as soon as I...
It's fine, Sebastian, just do
whatever you have to do.
I'll talk to you soon, okay?
Hey, guys.
This is Paige.
Leave a message and I'll get
back with you as soon as I...
It's fine, Sebastian; just do
whatever you have to do.
This is awkward.
Read this.
...instead, Ava,
our Oklahoma town,
is very, let's say, lonely.
In Ava, you don't see
many people walking,
except those loners that
traverse endless pathways
seemingly going
from one fast food...
...one of those people
that hits those bars
during the day
is our father, Leam.
I really can't do this
right now, okay?
Maybe later.
Okay.
I think, though,
that, after all,
my friends might be right
when they say
that the US is
a better place than Mexico
with all that violence,
and narcos, and...
but again,
what consolation is that?
Ava is a sad little town
that cannot grow
because of the backwardness
of its people.
My own backwardness
has kept me here.
And Dad's contempt towards me
is no more than
his unbearable pain.
I am just there
to pick up the pieces.
In the end, our faces
are reflected in a mirror
covered in a dust that
the rain cannot cleanse.
A mirror like the one I see
in this tidy and clean cell.
November 23, 2016
No place is safe.
Auschwitz, the Tlatelolco Massacre,
the Oklahoma City Bombing,
Hiroshima,
horrible just like Alain Resnais
showed in his film.
Venezuela, and the police brutality
in the U.S.
Conflicts between countries
are as paradoxical
as the ones that can destroy a family.
FOREIGN ACTIVISM: A REASON
FOR CONTROVERSY IN MEXICO
"Closed"
Welcome to skylines,
flight 382
to London Heathrow today.
Welcome on board.
Lovely to have you with us.
As we leave
towards the east this...
Dear, brother...
Now, crossing the Atlantic,
I can finally answer you,
at least in my head,
but with a sense
that you can hear me.
Images cloud my mind
while that little Oklahoma
town, Ava, appears in flashes.
The reds and oranges
are what I see the most.
So we anticipate
pushing back
a few minutes
ahead of schedule.
The cabin crew will demonstrate
the safety equipment procedures
of this aircraft,
and we ask you to...
Now, crossing the
Atlantic, I think of the wall
that's someday meant to divide
Mexico and the US.
What a... hm... deplorable idea,
but of course, not surprising.
I'm glad you came
to Mexico, Sebastián.
I'm glad you saw a little of
the place where you were born,
although you came
to save me, I know.
Smart move.
I'm glad you didn't just
send me a text, dear brother.
And that your
girlfriend understood,
that she didn't give up.
emanates immense tenderness.
Violence can disrupt your life
without even touching you,
like the spinning
winds of a tornado.
While Monica heard
horror stories
about the brutality
of Pinochet in her attic,
in another attic,
I invented stories
with my father and Lloyd.
Remember Lloyd?"
They were always
playing at writing stories
for the newspapers
up in the attic.
Remember?
It was like a game,
not knowing
that something devastating
was coming our way.
DEBATE REGARDING TLATELOLCO
Seeing you has
made me think again
about the Tlatelolco Massacre,
which our father reported,
and the Oklahoma City bombing,
which is somehow part
of our own story.
... Believe that
a 1,200-pound car-bomb is what
ripped through the nine-story building
shortly after 9:00 this morning.
- Many of the victims...
- And years later,
even dad's favorite bar
in Ava burned down.
- Hm.
- On Tuesday of last week,
a lightning strike
and the fire that followed...
...gutted Leam Gaertner's
"happy place."
Fire grew fast in this beloved bar
of Ava with very little time to...
And thinking
about our mother,
put away in London
for as long as I can remember,
I think of what Tomás
Eloy Martínez once said:
'When we read that there were
one hundred thousand victims
'in a tsunami in Bangladesh,
'the data shocks us,
but it does not move us.
'If we read, instead,
the tragedy of a woman
'who has been left alone
in the world after a tsunami
'and we followed step-by-step
the history of her losses,
'we'd know everything there is
to know about that tsunami
'and all there is to know
about chance
'and about involuntary
and sudden misfortunes.'
Your road trip brought all
of this to me, dear brother.
It reminded me of the good
life we had in Oklahoma.
February 8, 2017
But there are millions
of other stories out there.
Where did the 21st century
go wrong?
The planet is full
of dictators, liars, weapons,
and yet we cling
to the illusion
that we are moving forward.
That's why I read
Walter Benjamin.
I don't believe
in that progress either,
especially when I walk,
looking around obsessively,
trying to understand...
something.
That's what drove
Mónica away, I'm sure.
Maybe as I try to write,
a nuclear bomb is
crossing the Atlantic.
Maybe, right now, as I walk,
the world is turning
into a mushroom cloud
in which we all burn like
delicate autumn leaves,
slowly growing dark
and turning into fragile,
gray, absurd ashes.
JOINT VISIONS.
Mexico City, March 16, 2017
Chronicles
Oklahoma Mon Amour
By Nico Gaertner
For Rose
In 1998, Fiona and Leam
Gaertner traveled for nine days
through the north of Mexico,
the infamous border,
the never-ending plains of Texas,
until reaching
the reddish Oklahoma territory.
Fiona's dry but playful British humor
helped them ease away
from their fearless activism.
She would say, for instance,
"England is an island
with only seven faces,
and mine is one of them."
Sebastián's, let's say, "road movie"
from 2016, also lasted nine days.
He was afraid to reach Mexico
and Latin America,
while thinking that "his" own country
was falling apart.
Oklahoma-- who would have thought--
is the place that unites
and separates them all,
as it is the center of so many stories
hidden underneath
that reddish land that stretches on...