<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6304519</id><updated>2012-01-31T07:38:16.675-08:00</updated><title type='text'>NO HAY TAL LUGAR</title><subtitle type='html'>U-TÓPICOS CONTEMPORÁNEOS</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cristinariveragarza.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6304519/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cristinariveragarza.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6304519/posts/default?start-index=101&amp;max-results=100'/><author><name>crg</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00504713823600697143</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-g_Abas1ERJU/TZ9rJXxcqNI/AAAAAAAABmQ/RiOlYqYQeQY/s220/crisyvonne-5.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>1800</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6304519.post-5803816760447970977</id><published>2012-01-31T07:36:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2012-01-31T07:38:16.688-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>CONTRA LA CALIDAD LITERARIA[en La Mano Oblicua, columna de los martes del periódico mexicano Milenio, sección de cultura]Pretender discernir la así llamada calidad literaria de un texto digital utilizando las normas y rituales que emergieron históricamente para analizar textos impresos en papel es como pedirle al chico salvaje e intenso que sea tu novio, con la secreta y malévola intención de que</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6304519/posts/default/5803816760447970977'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6304519/posts/default/5803816760447970977'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cristinariveragarza.blogspot.com/2012_01_01_archive.html#5803816760447970977' title=''/><author><name>crg</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00504713823600697143</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-g_Abas1ERJU/TZ9rJXxcqNI/AAAAAAAABmQ/RiOlYqYQeQY/s220/crisyvonne-5.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6304519.post-1327839264270324465</id><published>2012-01-28T10:09:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2012-01-28T10:12:33.583-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>DOLERSE DESDE EL PLANETA ELLASDolerse, textos desde un país herido, por Cristina Rivera Garza (Sur+). Un libro que debería ser de lectura obligatoria para todos los habitantes de este país sangrante. La imprescindible autora de Verde Shangai nos invita a “desdeñar la apatía hacia el sufrimiento humano, ante el desmoronamiento de nuestra propia tragedia”. Crónicas sobre la violencia en uno de los </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6304519/posts/default/1327839264270324465'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6304519/posts/default/1327839264270324465'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cristinariveragarza.blogspot.com/2012_01_01_archive.html#1327839264270324465' title=''/><author><name>crg</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00504713823600697143</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-g_Abas1ERJU/TZ9rJXxcqNI/AAAAAAAABmQ/RiOlYqYQeQY/s220/crisyvonne-5.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6304519.post-2691117914776934896</id><published>2012-01-26T00:10:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2012-01-26T00:13:03.673-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>DOLERSE EN TIJUANA HOYJueves 26 de enero5:30 hrsBiblioteca Regional Benito Juárez (Ave. Centenario 1051, Zona Río). Con comentarios de Alfonso García Cortés y Amaranta Caballero. Se pondrá bien. No falten.--crg</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6304519/posts/default/2691117914776934896'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6304519/posts/default/2691117914776934896'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cristinariveragarza.blogspot.com/2012_01_01_archive.html#2691117914776934896' title=''/><author><name>crg</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00504713823600697143</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-g_Abas1ERJU/TZ9rJXxcqNI/AAAAAAAABmQ/RiOlYqYQeQY/s220/crisyvonne-5.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-CT0lmJ9ekMw/TyEKm22gifI/AAAAAAAAB6w/PfhFSVfmoKQ/s72-c/portadaDolerse.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6304519.post-1639651946502611336</id><published>2012-01-24T06:29:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2012-01-24T08:53:02.816-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>NO SÉ SI MIS NUBES TE ALCANCEN[en La Mano Oblicua, columna de los martes del periódico mexicano Milenio, sección de cultura]Sus palabras vienen del exilio. Don Mee Choi nació en Corea del Sur en 1962 y llegó a los 19 años a Estados Unidos, luego de una estancia en Hong Kong. Su primer libro de poesía —que va del fragmento al verso, de la nota suelta al párrafo completo— interroga esta experiencia</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6304519/posts/default/1639651946502611336'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6304519/posts/default/1639651946502611336'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cristinariveragarza.blogspot.com/2012_01_01_archive.html#1639651946502611336' title=''/><author><name>crg</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00504713823600697143</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-g_Abas1ERJU/TZ9rJXxcqNI/AAAAAAAABmQ/RiOlYqYQeQY/s220/crisyvonne-5.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6304519.post-2370579071172294648</id><published>2012-01-22T11:37:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2012-01-22T15:32:52.228-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>THE LITTLE MONSTER OF DREGS THINKS OF THE GIRL IN THE FLAMMABLE SKIRT [IN A FOREIGN TONGUE]Me acuerdo de la muchacha de la que leí en los diarios--la de la falda en llamas. Había comprado una falda de chifón color púrpura, con muchos motivos de líneas onduladas. Se la puso para ir a una fiesta y, mientras bailaba, muy cerca de las veladoras con esencia de vainilla, de repente se incendió como una</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6304519/posts/default/2370579071172294648'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6304519/posts/default/2370579071172294648'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cristinariveragarza.blogspot.com/2012_01_01_archive.html#2370579071172294648' title=''/><author><name>crg</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00504713823600697143</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-g_Abas1ERJU/TZ9rJXxcqNI/AAAAAAAABmQ/RiOlYqYQeQY/s220/crisyvonne-5.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-F9u_t5PMG_E/Txxl0ElCXZI/AAAAAAAAB6k/zxdbiTO8v4s/s72-c/IMG_2520.JPG' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6304519.post-5078566881526591162</id><published>2012-01-19T06:55:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2012-01-19T14:46:40.842-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>EL OJO DEL CICLÓNEl álamo se sacude el cabello húmedofrente al psiquiátrico de Ch´DngyangniAcaso todavía sopla el viento nocturno--el viento entrelazado con las cabelleras de los pájaros enloquecidosColoco un niño en cada ventana iluminaday dejo el hospitalel niño-del-pecho-triturado  el niño-de-los-pulmones-llenos-de-piedras  el niño-que-aletea-como-un-abanico-hecho-pedazos  el </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6304519/posts/default/5078566881526591162'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6304519/posts/default/5078566881526591162'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cristinariveragarza.blogspot.com/2012_01_01_archive.html#5078566881526591162' title=''/><author><name>crg</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00504713823600697143</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-g_Abas1ERJU/TZ9rJXxcqNI/AAAAAAAABmQ/RiOlYqYQeQY/s220/crisyvonne-5.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6304519.post-7171474148385711155</id><published>2012-01-19T06:06:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2012-01-19T11:06:10.947-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>BLANCA NIEVES: LA HISTORIA DEL CAZADORSaqué el cuchillo y sostuve su cabezahacia atrás. Ella cerró los ojos. Un venadoatravesó el claro del bosque, se detuvoy se dio la vuelta. Penséque me miraba.Pienso que todavía me mira...Hice un juramento:obedecer las órdenes, sin misericordiao placer. Incluso la parteque podrías pensar como plancentera--No era una niña suave. No erani siquiera una niña. Era </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6304519/posts/default/7171474148385711155'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6304519/posts/default/7171474148385711155'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cristinariveragarza.blogspot.com/2012_01_01_archive.html#7171474148385711155' title=''/><author><name>crg</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00504713823600697143</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-g_Abas1ERJU/TZ9rJXxcqNI/AAAAAAAABmQ/RiOlYqYQeQY/s220/crisyvonne-5.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6304519.post-7505212078464706162</id><published>2012-01-17T08:31:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2012-01-17T09:19:27.485-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>POESÍA Y CULTURA POPULAR[en La Mano Oblicua, columna de los martes del periódico mexicano Milenio, sección de cultura]En 1980, el artista Sol LeWitt dio a conocer uno de sus dieciocho libros de artista: Autobiografía. Se trata de una colección de más de mil fotografías en blanco y negro, dispuestas en forma de cuadrícula, usualmente nueve por página, a través de las cuales se ofrece un catalogo </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6304519/posts/default/7505212078464706162'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6304519/posts/default/7505212078464706162'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cristinariveragarza.blogspot.com/2012_01_01_archive.html#7505212078464706162' title=''/><author><name>crg</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00504713823600697143</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-g_Abas1ERJU/TZ9rJXxcqNI/AAAAAAAABmQ/RiOlYqYQeQY/s220/crisyvonne-5.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6304519.post-4573219206679979128</id><published>2012-01-11T12:03:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2012-01-11T13:13:25.571-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>PORQUE LA REALIDAD MOLESTA O HIERE O NO ALCANZA O ABRUMA Los camaradas de la revista Litoral publican en su número de enero Sueño Serial. Se dice que es a causa de la lectura. Se dice que todo se debe a un cierto, aunque perverso, gusto por las largas horas solitarias. Se dice, de manera insistente, que está relacionada con la timidez. Se dice que ciertas personas nacen con esa facilidad o con </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6304519/posts/default/4573219206679979128'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6304519/posts/default/4573219206679979128'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cristinariveragarza.blogspot.com/2012_01_01_archive.html#4573219206679979128' title=''/><author><name>crg</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00504713823600697143</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-g_Abas1ERJU/TZ9rJXxcqNI/AAAAAAAABmQ/RiOlYqYQeQY/s220/crisyvonne-5.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6304519.post-6957072424041109368</id><published>2012-01-10T09:17:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2012-01-10T09:31:12.474-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>LO QUE PASA ES QUE YO TRABAJO[en La Mano Oblicua, columna de los martes del periódico mexicano Milenio, sección de cultura]Son numerosos los escritores que describen su encuentro con los libros de Juan Rulfo como un momento crucial de asombro y de liberación confundidas. Generalmente bien recibida por la crítica, tanto de su tiempo como después, la obra rulfiana generó especial entusiasmo entre </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6304519/posts/default/6957072424041109368'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6304519/posts/default/6957072424041109368'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cristinariveragarza.blogspot.com/2012_01_01_archive.html#6957072424041109368' title=''/><author><name>crg</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00504713823600697143</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-g_Abas1ERJU/TZ9rJXxcqNI/AAAAAAAABmQ/RiOlYqYQeQY/s220/crisyvonne-5.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6304519.post-6995479535546823592</id><published>2012-01-08T12:16:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2012-01-08T12:37:35.324-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>THE LITTLE MONSTER OF DREGS PRACTICES ORNITHOMANCYDivination through the flight patterns, wing sounds and songs of birds, said the Professor.Oh, that´s what it is, said she. Fluttering. Quit looking at me, said the bird. --crg</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6304519/posts/default/6995479535546823592'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6304519/posts/default/6995479535546823592'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cristinariveragarza.blogspot.com/2012_01_01_archive.html#6995479535546823592' title=''/><author><name>crg</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00504713823600697143</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-g_Abas1ERJU/TZ9rJXxcqNI/AAAAAAAABmQ/RiOlYqYQeQY/s220/crisyvonne-5.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-MTyE8DDliAs/Twn5_tJo2_I/AAAAAAAAB6U/njxBbcIgKNg/s72-c/IMG_2515.JPG' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6304519.post-5673941968059133494</id><published>2012-01-08T11:41:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2012-01-08T11:44:32.609-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>COMO ACTO TESTEREANTEClaudia Sorais Castañeda comenta Dolerse. Textos desde un país herido (Oaxaca: Sur+ ediciones, 2011) aquí. --crg</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6304519/posts/default/5673941968059133494'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6304519/posts/default/5673941968059133494'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cristinariveragarza.blogspot.com/2012_01_01_archive.html#5673941968059133494' title=''/><author><name>crg</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00504713823600697143</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-g_Abas1ERJU/TZ9rJXxcqNI/AAAAAAAABmQ/RiOlYqYQeQY/s220/crisyvonne-5.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6304519.post-2605177401393091223</id><published>2012-01-05T14:16:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2012-01-05T14:28:45.136-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>LAS AVENTURAS DE LA INCREÍBLEMENTE PEQUEÑA¿Arte povera? ¿Desvío de lo didáctico hacia el relajo? ¿Una forma de hibridación y degradación de materiales propios y encontrados? ¿Ejemplo personal de nuevo fabulismo? Todo eso o algo así dice Jorge Carrión de un proyecto que bien podría retomar este 2012: La cuenta atrás (y I).--crg</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6304519/posts/default/2605177401393091223'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6304519/posts/default/2605177401393091223'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cristinariveragarza.blogspot.com/2012_01_01_archive.html#2605177401393091223' title=''/><author><name>crg</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00504713823600697143</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-g_Abas1ERJU/TZ9rJXxcqNI/AAAAAAAABmQ/RiOlYqYQeQY/s220/crisyvonne-5.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6304519.post-1200321036570810055</id><published>2012-01-03T05:25:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2012-01-03T05:26:21.085-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>CUATRO O CINCO COSAS QUE TAMPOCO HARÉ EN EL 2012 (Y UNA QUE SÍ)[en La Mano Oblicua, columna de los martes del periódico mexicano Milenio, sección de cultura]1) Solía sacar buenas calificaciones en física. De hecho, me interesaba mucho la física. Llegué a pensar que, luego de estudiar lo que me apasionaba, que eran las ciencias sociales y la historia y la literatura, estudiaría física. Una segunda</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6304519/posts/default/1200321036570810055'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6304519/posts/default/1200321036570810055'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cristinariveragarza.blogspot.com/2012_01_01_archive.html#1200321036570810055' title=''/><author><name>crg</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00504713823600697143</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-g_Abas1ERJU/TZ9rJXxcqNI/AAAAAAAABmQ/RiOlYqYQeQY/s220/crisyvonne-5.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6304519.post-5471652069115258185</id><published>2012-01-01T14:55:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2012-01-01T14:56:23.002-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>MANTENER CONECTADOS LOS OJOS CON EL RESTOUn comentario sobre Verde Shanghai aquí.--crg</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6304519/posts/default/5471652069115258185'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6304519/posts/default/5471652069115258185'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cristinariveragarza.blogspot.com/2012_01_01_archive.html#5471652069115258185' title=''/><author><name>crg</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00504713823600697143</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-g_Abas1ERJU/TZ9rJXxcqNI/AAAAAAAABmQ/RiOlYqYQeQY/s220/crisyvonne-5.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6304519.post-4273702559453458329</id><published>2011-12-31T10:48:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2011-12-31T10:48:34.965-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>EL DRAGÓN, QUE SE APROXIMALean mucho, disfruten de más, amen porque sí, suéltense (si lo hay) el pelo, alóquense si fuera menester. Y cuídense, también. Van los abrazos y los mejores deseos para este año del dragón que a punto está de dar la vuelta a la esquina. Miren.Puesn.--crg</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6304519/posts/default/4273702559453458329'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6304519/posts/default/4273702559453458329'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cristinariveragarza.blogspot.com/2011_12_01_archive.html#4273702559453458329' title=''/><author><name>crg</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00504713823600697143</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-g_Abas1ERJU/TZ9rJXxcqNI/AAAAAAAABmQ/RiOlYqYQeQY/s220/crisyvonne-5.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6304519.post-6410606954177718875</id><published>2011-12-29T11:50:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-12-29T11:53:55.754-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>VIRIDITASLectura en voz alta de "Viernes, Marzo 12, 2010. 8:03 am", Viriditas (Mantis/UANL), p.13.--crg</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6304519/posts/default/6410606954177718875'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6304519/posts/default/6410606954177718875'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cristinariveragarza.blogspot.com/2011_12_01_archive.html#6410606954177718875' title=''/><author><name>crg</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00504713823600697143</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-g_Abas1ERJU/TZ9rJXxcqNI/AAAAAAAABmQ/RiOlYqYQeQY/s220/crisyvonne-5.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6304519.post-3422363255280897017</id><published>2011-12-27T06:56:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-12-31T08:50:30.429-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>POESÍA Y POLÍTICA[en La Mano Oblicua, columna de los martes del periódico mexicano Milenio, sección de cultura]La guerra que pelean una férrea casta de tecnócratas neoliberales contra un grupo de empresarios transnacionales que se dedican a la producción y comercio de sustancias hasta ahora consideradas como ilegales ha sumido a México en una de las etapas más sangrientas de las que se tenga </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6304519/posts/default/3422363255280897017'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6304519/posts/default/3422363255280897017'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cristinariveragarza.blogspot.com/2011_12_01_archive.html#3422363255280897017' title=''/><author><name>crg</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00504713823600697143</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-g_Abas1ERJU/TZ9rJXxcqNI/AAAAAAAABmQ/RiOlYqYQeQY/s220/crisyvonne-5.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6304519.post-8569286969552053607</id><published>2011-12-23T08:39:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-12-25T20:21:33.631-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>THESE PETRIFIED CONDITIONS MUST BE MADE TO DANCE BY SINGING THEM THEIR OWN TUNEOscar de Pablo, El baile de las condiciones (México: Práctica Mortal/CONACULTA, 2011), 9-10, 16-18.Translations by Cristina Rivera-Garza*IN COMMEMORATION OF MEHe said: “Put this verse on your mouth, officiant.” He did not call you reader. He called you “officiant.” Once supper was over, he took his pen and said: “</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6304519/posts/default/8569286969552053607'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6304519/posts/default/8569286969552053607'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cristinariveragarza.blogspot.com/2011_12_01_archive.html#8569286969552053607' title=''/><author><name>crg</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00504713823600697143</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-g_Abas1ERJU/TZ9rJXxcqNI/AAAAAAAABmQ/RiOlYqYQeQY/s220/crisyvonne-5.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6304519.post-7417724763340316612</id><published>2011-12-21T15:11:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-12-21T15:20:39.646-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>I WANTED TO TRANSLATE IT FOR YOU, OWN IT FOR YOU IN THIS LANGUAGE*DISINTEGRATION SERIES(Some reproductions of William Basinski)By Alejandro Tarrab, Degenerativa (México: Bonobos, 2010), 145-149.Translations by Cristina Rivera GarzaFirst LoopA shadow at the end of the hall: dialogue, impossibility. Two characters cling to each other. Their voices fuse together, distorted.  I wanted to translate it</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6304519/posts/default/7417724763340316612'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6304519/posts/default/7417724763340316612'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cristinariveragarza.blogspot.com/2011_12_01_archive.html#7417724763340316612' title=''/><author><name>crg</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00504713823600697143</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-g_Abas1ERJU/TZ9rJXxcqNI/AAAAAAAABmQ/RiOlYqYQeQY/s220/crisyvonne-5.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6304519.post-4898527493092555387</id><published>2011-12-20T07:12:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-12-20T07:18:45.777-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>NO SÉ DE QUÉ OTRA MANERA[en La Mano Oblicua, columna de los martes del periódico mexicano Milenio, sección de cultura]Años después sólo recordaría el sonido del viento a través de las ramas de los eucaliptos.RECUERDOUn hombre le pregunta a otro si se dice “corrupto” o “corrompido”. Esto ocurre, lo recuerdo, frente a un puesto de periódicos, bajo una manta que anuncia: AQUÍ SE RECIBEN SUS ARMAS DE</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6304519/posts/default/4898527493092555387'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6304519/posts/default/4898527493092555387'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cristinariveragarza.blogspot.com/2011_12_01_archive.html#4898527493092555387' title=''/><author><name>crg</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00504713823600697143</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-g_Abas1ERJU/TZ9rJXxcqNI/AAAAAAAABmQ/RiOlYqYQeQY/s220/crisyvonne-5.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6304519.post-3769401273178829669</id><published>2011-12-17T08:27:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-12-17T08:33:19.068-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>DOLERSE HOYPronto, si no es que antes, en librerías. Pero, mientras tanto y después, se puede ordenar directamente: www.surplusediciones.org--crg</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6304519/posts/default/3769401273178829669'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6304519/posts/default/3769401273178829669'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cristinariveragarza.blogspot.com/2011_12_01_archive.html#3769401273178829669' title=''/><author><name>crg</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00504713823600697143</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-g_Abas1ERJU/TZ9rJXxcqNI/AAAAAAAABmQ/RiOlYqYQeQY/s220/crisyvonne-5.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-6_z7JFeifvA/TuzDCG5ROII/AAAAAAAAB6A/lFtqYojb_gU/s72-c/portadaDolerse.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6304519.post-8504114922713317125</id><published>2011-12-16T15:04:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2011-12-16T15:29:31.898-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>LA CÁMARA VERDEEl batir de alas debajo de mí. La Cámara Verde 45, Diciembre 2011-Enero 2012 Sé que tiene sus detractores, Diciembre. Pero quien me conoce sabe que es uno de mis meses favoritos. Ni modo. La Cámara Verde se pone a dicembrear, cómo no. Dicembrear que quiere decir volver a casa, dar y recibir abrazos, asentir. Dicembrear que quiere decir aroma de mandarina y ruido de leños (¡mira </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6304519/posts/default/8504114922713317125'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6304519/posts/default/8504114922713317125'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cristinariveragarza.blogspot.com/2011_12_01_archive.html#8504114922713317125' title=''/><author><name>crg</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00504713823600697143</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-g_Abas1ERJU/TZ9rJXxcqNI/AAAAAAAABmQ/RiOlYqYQeQY/s220/crisyvonne-5.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ETMf7XM3pzU/TuvOmUV2vQI/AAAAAAAAB5w/Ur7UQIsWTeA/s72-c/camaraverde.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6304519.post-3832128855262809811</id><published>2011-12-16T08:25:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2011-12-16T08:29:15.165-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>EL ÚLTIMO SIGNOEl último signo, cuento de La frontera más distante (México: Tusquets, 2008), en voz alta en Descarga Cultura UNAM: primera parte y segunda parte. Claudia Macías escribió "Huellas de la escritura Nüshu en un cuento mexicano", reflexiones alrededor de "El último signo" en la revista Análisis/ México y la cuenca del Pacífico , Vol. 13, núm. 38 / mayo – agosto de 2010. El texto </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6304519/posts/default/3832128855262809811'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6304519/posts/default/3832128855262809811'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cristinariveragarza.blogspot.com/2011_12_01_archive.html#3832128855262809811' title=''/><author><name>crg</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00504713823600697143</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-g_Abas1ERJU/TZ9rJXxcqNI/AAAAAAAABmQ/RiOlYqYQeQY/s220/crisyvonne-5.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6304519.post-8260050012417064204</id><published>2011-12-15T06:10:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-12-16T08:25:00.364-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>EL AMOR ANTES DEL AMOR (Y DESPUÉS)Alfredo Godínez escribió sobre Lo anterior (México: Tusquets, 2004) en su columna El Guardián del Diván, de Sexenio. Laura Hernández, por cierto, escribió esto también sobre Lo anterior en la revista Signos Literarios. --crg</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6304519/posts/default/8260050012417064204'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6304519/posts/default/8260050012417064204'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cristinariveragarza.blogspot.com/2011_12_01_archive.html#8260050012417064204' title=''/><author><name>crg</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00504713823600697143</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-g_Abas1ERJU/TZ9rJXxcqNI/AAAAAAAABmQ/RiOlYqYQeQY/s220/crisyvonne-5.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6304519.post-801453372847919231</id><published>2011-12-15T05:39:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-12-15T05:42:57.371-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>SUPLEMENTO VITAMÍNICO DE LECTURALos amigos de Cuadrivio me invitaron a hacer una lista de 10 cuentos. Sin pensarlo mucho y sin orden de preferencia, llegaron los 10 que publican aquí. --crg</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6304519/posts/default/801453372847919231'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6304519/posts/default/801453372847919231'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cristinariveragarza.blogspot.com/2011_12_01_archive.html#801453372847919231' title=''/><author><name>crg</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00504713823600697143</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-g_Abas1ERJU/TZ9rJXxcqNI/AAAAAAAABmQ/RiOlYqYQeQY/s220/crisyvonne-5.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6304519.post-594809337951179577</id><published>2011-12-14T17:25:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-12-14T17:30:48.303-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>MADAME BOLLINGER Y EL CHAMPÁNBebo champaña cuando estoy feliz y cuando estoy triste. Algunas veces lo bebo cuando estoy sola. Cuando tengo compañía, lo considero obligatorio.  Jugueteo con él cuando no tengo hambre y lo bebo cuando estoy hambrienta. De otra manera nunca lo toco--a menos que tenga sed. --crg</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6304519/posts/default/594809337951179577'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6304519/posts/default/594809337951179577'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cristinariveragarza.blogspot.com/2011_12_01_archive.html#594809337951179577' title=''/><author><name>crg</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00504713823600697143</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-g_Abas1ERJU/TZ9rJXxcqNI/AAAAAAAABmQ/RiOlYqYQeQY/s220/crisyvonne-5.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6304519.post-8880300900251302607</id><published>2011-12-14T07:38:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-12-14T07:40:18.951-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>DESDE LA CASTAÑEDALa Castañeda: Narrativas dolientes desde el Manicomio General. México, 1910-1930 es un libro de Cristina Rivera Garza publicado por Tusquets el año pasado. Llegué al libro interesado en uno sólo de sus capítulos: “(Con)jurar el cuerpo: historiar y ficcionar”, una suerte de epílogo en el que la autora teoriza sobre su propio texto. Así, el final me llevó al principio: a la </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6304519/posts/default/8880300900251302607'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6304519/posts/default/8880300900251302607'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cristinariveragarza.blogspot.com/2011_12_01_archive.html#8880300900251302607' title=''/><author><name>crg</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00504713823600697143</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-g_Abas1ERJU/TZ9rJXxcqNI/AAAAAAAABmQ/RiOlYqYQeQY/s220/crisyvonne-5.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6304519.post-1139007757632259401</id><published>2011-12-13T04:56:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-12-13T05:43:32.501-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>¿QUÉ RECORDAMOS CUANDO RECORDAMOS?[en La Mano Oblicua, columna de los martes del periódico mexicano Milenio, sección de cultura]¡Y cuánto no se ha dicho de los beneficios individuales y sociales de la memoria! Se nos aconseja continuamente que aprendamos de nuestro pasado, especialmente de nuestros errores. Se nos dice, también de manera insistente, que una sociedad amnésica volverá a caer en las</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6304519/posts/default/1139007757632259401'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6304519/posts/default/1139007757632259401'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cristinariveragarza.blogspot.com/2011_12_01_archive.html#1139007757632259401' title=''/><author><name>crg</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00504713823600697143</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-g_Abas1ERJU/TZ9rJXxcqNI/AAAAAAAABmQ/RiOlYqYQeQY/s220/crisyvonne-5.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6304519.post-6965036627145622226</id><published>2011-12-12T13:54:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-12-12T13:55:52.704-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>DESDE VERDE SHANGHAIElizabeth Villa, desde Tijuana, El poder de la invención. --crg</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6304519/posts/default/6965036627145622226'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6304519/posts/default/6965036627145622226'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cristinariveragarza.blogspot.com/2011_12_01_archive.html#6965036627145622226' title=''/><author><name>crg</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00504713823600697143</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-g_Abas1ERJU/TZ9rJXxcqNI/AAAAAAAABmQ/RiOlYqYQeQY/s220/crisyvonne-5.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6304519.post-4776857796788058162</id><published>2011-12-12T13:40:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2011-12-12T13:42:25.044-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>¡AJÚA!Primeros comentarios sobre Eulalio González Piporro. Homenaje, el libro publicado por Caja de Cerillos/Conaculta a fines de 2011. Daniel Emilio Pacheco en Hojeando Libros--crg</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6304519/posts/default/4776857796788058162'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6304519/posts/default/4776857796788058162'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cristinariveragarza.blogspot.com/2011_12_01_archive.html#4776857796788058162' title=''/><author><name>crg</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00504713823600697143</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-g_Abas1ERJU/TZ9rJXxcqNI/AAAAAAAABmQ/RiOlYqYQeQY/s220/crisyvonne-5.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6304519.post-2511003391649947136</id><published>2011-12-11T11:09:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-12-11T11:16:17.582-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>SÚBITA APARICIÓN DEL MONSTRUILLO DE LOS POSOSCosas que ni qué. --crg</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6304519/posts/default/2511003391649947136'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6304519/posts/default/2511003391649947136'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cristinariveragarza.blogspot.com/2011_12_01_archive.html#2511003391649947136' title=''/><author><name>crg</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00504713823600697143</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-g_Abas1ERJU/TZ9rJXxcqNI/AAAAAAAABmQ/RiOlYqYQeQY/s220/crisyvonne-5.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-OVteihz8eas/TuUAeUHx_xI/AAAAAAAAB5g/TXrymVOru2w/s72-c/IMG_2377.JPG' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6304519.post-2166913231775894455</id><published>2011-12-07T18:51:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-12-07T19:02:20.236-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>SIMPLE PLACER, PURO PLACERHace ya algunos años--y respondiendo a una invitación que me hacía Araceli Otamendi, editora de la revista Archivos del Sur--envié a esta publicación argentina un cuento en el que trabajaba por entonces. El cuento, que siempre se llamó "Simple placer, puro placer", apareció en el espacio de autor de la revista Archivos del Sur allá por el 2006, si recuerdo bien. Una de </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6304519/posts/default/2166913231775894455'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6304519/posts/default/2166913231775894455'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cristinariveragarza.blogspot.com/2011_12_01_archive.html#2166913231775894455' title=''/><author><name>crg</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00504713823600697143</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-g_Abas1ERJU/TZ9rJXxcqNI/AAAAAAAABmQ/RiOlYqYQeQY/s220/crisyvonne-5.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6304519.post-3994848478570218491</id><published>2011-12-06T08:12:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-12-06T19:54:42.518-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>HIC SUNT LEONES[en La Mano Oblicua, columna de los martes del periódico mexicano Milenio, sección de cultura]Había ido al parque para ver las nubes. No lo hacía a menudo. De hecho, no lo hacía casi nunca y mucho menos entre semana. Pero atravesaba una de esas crisis veraniegas que lo dejan a uno con poca energía, muchas dudas, y ese característico sabor agridulce sobre la lengua. Sumido en un </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6304519/posts/default/3994848478570218491'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6304519/posts/default/3994848478570218491'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cristinariveragarza.blogspot.com/2011_12_01_archive.html#3994848478570218491' title=''/><author><name>crg</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00504713823600697143</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-g_Abas1ERJU/TZ9rJXxcqNI/AAAAAAAABmQ/RiOlYqYQeQY/s220/crisyvonne-5.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6304519.post-1982712888715361123</id><published>2011-12-05T11:42:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2011-12-05T11:44:50.201-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>DOLERSE HOYComentario sobre Dolerse. Textos desde un país herido [con "Jamás tanto cariño doloroso", epílogo de Diego Osorno], de América Pacheco [@amerikapa], en Animal Político.“Dolerse: Textos desde un país herido” (epílogo de Diego E. Osorno) de la escritora, narradora, poeta y ensayista mexicana Cristina Rivera Garza, es un compendio de estrujantes crónicas -que son contadas sin orden </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6304519/posts/default/1982712888715361123'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6304519/posts/default/1982712888715361123'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cristinariveragarza.blogspot.com/2011_12_01_archive.html#1982712888715361123' title=''/><author><name>crg</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00504713823600697143</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-g_Abas1ERJU/TZ9rJXxcqNI/AAAAAAAABmQ/RiOlYqYQeQY/s220/crisyvonne-5.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6304519.post-7540304319610131787</id><published>2011-12-03T08:26:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-12-03T08:32:31.719-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>DOLERSE HOYLos poetas Luigi Amara y Daniel Bencomo me ayudan a darle la bienvenida al mundo a este Dolerse. Textos desde un país herido, el libro que publico con Sur+ este 2011. El libro también incluye "Jamás tanto cariño dolorso", el epílogo de Diego Osorno. La cita es en el Gato Verde (Robles Gil 171, entre Vallarta y López Cotilla) a las 9:00 pm. Ojalá nos puedan acompañar. --crg</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6304519/posts/default/7540304319610131787'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6304519/posts/default/7540304319610131787'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cristinariveragarza.blogspot.com/2011_12_01_archive.html#7540304319610131787' title=''/><author><name>crg</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00504713823600697143</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-g_Abas1ERJU/TZ9rJXxcqNI/AAAAAAAABmQ/RiOlYqYQeQY/s220/crisyvonne-5.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-INZiYG2hgqw/TtpN4Bp6y7I/AAAAAAAAB48/l4-2N0pRmPw/s72-c/portadaDolerse.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6304519.post-7404566027060579477</id><published>2011-12-02T06:58:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-12-02T13:58:29.728-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>VERDE SHANGHAILos muy queridos y más admirados Eduardo Antonio Parra y Sandra Lorenzano me ayudan a presentar Verde Shanghai hoy, en la sala Elías Nandino, a las 18:00 hrs. ¡La FIl forever!--crg</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6304519/posts/default/7404566027060579477'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6304519/posts/default/7404566027060579477'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cristinariveragarza.blogspot.com/2011_12_01_archive.html#7404566027060579477' title=''/><author><name>crg</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00504713823600697143</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-g_Abas1ERJU/TZ9rJXxcqNI/AAAAAAAABmQ/RiOlYqYQeQY/s220/crisyvonne-5.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-G-VSUlpYoUQ/TtjnzbAFcvI/AAAAAAAAB4w/gJ6CP9PnYSA/s72-c/verdesh.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6304519.post-6433099951403071310</id><published>2011-12-01T06:42:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2011-12-01T06:42:57.941-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>VIRIDITASDiciembre me gustó para leer con otros. Y, por eso, este jueves 1ero celebraré los 15 años de la editorial Manits con una lectura de poesía en la Casa Zuno de Guadalajara, Jalisco, junto con María Negroni, María Auxiliadora Álvarez, Vicente Quirarte y Oscar Santos. Será, en efecto, la primera vez que lea de Viriditas, el libro que publico con Mantis este 2011. Por eso, y porque nadie </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6304519/posts/default/6433099951403071310'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6304519/posts/default/6433099951403071310'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cristinariveragarza.blogspot.com/2011_12_01_archive.html#6433099951403071310' title=''/><author><name>crg</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00504713823600697143</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-g_Abas1ERJU/TZ9rJXxcqNI/AAAAAAAABmQ/RiOlYqYQeQY/s220/crisyvonne-5.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-wXIqRalJsFw/TtceKmEfG9I/AAAAAAAAB4k/vcf5IzEYVlw/s72-c/IMG_2371.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6304519.post-110761340383129965</id><published>2011-11-29T08:10:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-11-29T08:14:47.671-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>SPÍ UÑIEEY MAT[en La Mano Oblicua, columna de los martes del periódico mexicano Milenio, sección de cultura]No es bueno preguntarse muy seguido por qué se vive en un estuario. De hacerlo, de preguntárselo muchas veces, sobre todo si es frente al espejo, muy probablemente se terminará, y esto más pronto que tarde, sin respuesta alguna. La boca abierta. Los ojos en blanco. El cielo todo lleno de </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6304519/posts/default/110761340383129965'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6304519/posts/default/110761340383129965'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cristinariveragarza.blogspot.com/2011_11_01_archive.html#110761340383129965' title=''/><author><name>crg</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00504713823600697143</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-g_Abas1ERJU/TZ9rJXxcqNI/AAAAAAAABmQ/RiOlYqYQeQY/s220/crisyvonne-5.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6304519.post-8018611873873854496</id><published>2011-11-28T12:43:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-11-28T23:43:18.521-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>COMER, AMAR, MORIRDecir algo literalmente, argumenta la teórica queer Diane Fuss, radicaliza nuestra relación con la experiencia. Llevar la sintaxis hasta sus últimas consecuencias a menudo transforma a esas consecuencias, que constituyen la así llamada realidad, en algo extraño de nueva cuenta o por primera vez. Lo obvio es a veces así. De entre todos los que pecan de literalidad, a Fuss le </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6304519/posts/default/8018611873873854496'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6304519/posts/default/8018611873873854496'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cristinariveragarza.blogspot.com/2011_11_01_archive.html#8018611873873854496' title=''/><author><name>crg</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00504713823600697143</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-g_Abas1ERJU/TZ9rJXxcqNI/AAAAAAAABmQ/RiOlYqYQeQY/s220/crisyvonne-5.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6304519.post-1350010430041621492</id><published>2011-11-27T09:52:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-11-27T12:31:11.714-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>XA?LA?=H-PAA=KW-N+?KWIIT HI-Q YAQ-1 YU-M"It looked like some sort of crescent moon," said, or could have said, or said without ever attempting to have said it, the little monster of dregs as he translated, not without difficulty although sound by sound, from an ancient text he was trying to remember. Mauricio J. Mixco, Kiliwa Texts. When I Have Donned my Crest of Stars, p. 26.--crg</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6304519/posts/default/1350010430041621492'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6304519/posts/default/1350010430041621492'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cristinariveragarza.blogspot.com/2011_11_01_archive.html#1350010430041621492' title=''/><author><name>crg</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00504713823600697143</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-g_Abas1ERJU/TZ9rJXxcqNI/AAAAAAAABmQ/RiOlYqYQeQY/s220/crisyvonne-5.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Ab4caHaeFDA/TtJ5XA4yncI/AAAAAAAAB4Y/zcqa7IRlwRA/s72-c/IMG_2242.JPG' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6304519.post-656903722254158676</id><published>2011-11-26T23:29:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-11-27T10:17:41.310-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>LA MULTIPLICACIÓN DE LOS PANES Y DE LOS MONSTRUILLOS DE LOS POSOSVálgame. --crg</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6304519/posts/default/656903722254158676'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6304519/posts/default/656903722254158676'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cristinariveragarza.blogspot.com/2011_11_01_archive.html#656903722254158676' title=''/><author><name>crg</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00504713823600697143</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-g_Abas1ERJU/TZ9rJXxcqNI/AAAAAAAABmQ/RiOlYqYQeQY/s220/crisyvonne-5.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Zrak40E61Tg/TtHnYxQZleI/AAAAAAAAB4M/fdYHYLpS5CI/s72-c/IMG_2276.JPG' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6304519.post-3871109742601038974</id><published>2011-11-25T01:07:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2011-11-25T01:09:41.949-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>EL VIERNES EN LA RUTA DEL VERDE (SHANGHAI)12:00 hrs (tiempo de la Ciudad de México)Twitter y la producción del presenteVideoconferencia en II Encuentro Internacional de Publicaciones Digitales Culturales18:00 hrs (tiempo de Tijuana)Presentación de Verde Shanghaicon Raymond Williams y Elizabeth VillaLibrería Sor JuanaTijuana, BC----crg</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6304519/posts/default/3871109742601038974'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6304519/posts/default/3871109742601038974'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cristinariveragarza.blogspot.com/2011_11_01_archive.html#3871109742601038974' title=''/><author><name>crg</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00504713823600697143</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-g_Abas1ERJU/TZ9rJXxcqNI/AAAAAAAABmQ/RiOlYqYQeQY/s220/crisyvonne-5.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6304519.post-4651291801602644918</id><published>2011-11-25T00:01:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-11-25T00:02:48.104-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>VIRIDITASPorque si la tierra no tuviera humedad y viriditas, se derrumbaría como las cenizas. HIldegarda Von Bingen. Viriditas, (Guadalajara: Mantis/UANL, 2011). Cómo no. --crg</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6304519/posts/default/4651291801602644918'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6304519/posts/default/4651291801602644918'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cristinariveragarza.blogspot.com/2011_11_01_archive.html#4651291801602644918' title=''/><author><name>crg</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00504713823600697143</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-g_Abas1ERJU/TZ9rJXxcqNI/AAAAAAAABmQ/RiOlYqYQeQY/s220/crisyvonne-5.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-7b59lHWHtWM/Ts9LY7WZJ2I/AAAAAAAAB4A/qUrGlRjhgok/s72-c/PortadaViriditas.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6304519.post-6310080545363784953</id><published>2011-11-24T10:10:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-11-24T10:13:11.696-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>DOLERSEDolerse. Textos desde un país herido [con epílogo de Diego Osorno] (Oaxaca: Sur+, 2011).--crg</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6304519/posts/default/6310080545363784953'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6304519/posts/default/6310080545363784953'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cristinariveragarza.blogspot.com/2011_11_01_archive.html#6310080545363784953' title=''/><author><name>crg</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00504713823600697143</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-g_Abas1ERJU/TZ9rJXxcqNI/AAAAAAAABmQ/RiOlYqYQeQY/s220/crisyvonne-5.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-efzhfoMMjek/Ts6I0VHqAPI/AAAAAAAAB30/GxtVytQNH_g/s72-c/portadaDolerse.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6304519.post-4723849763711965157</id><published>2011-11-24T09:40:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-11-24T14:54:40.838-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>ACTIVIDADES FIL GUADALAJARA DICIEMBRE 1, JUEVES20:30 hrsLectura de poesía con Maria Negroni, María Auxiliadora Alvarez, Vicente Quirarte y Oscar SantosCasa Zuno (José Guadalupe Zuno y Unión, Colonia Americana)DICIEMBRE 2, VIERNES18:00 hrsPresentación de Verde Shanghaicon Eduardo Antonio Parra Sala Elías Nandino19:00 hrsFirma de librosStand Internacional21:00 hrsVenta nocturnaStand </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6304519/posts/default/4723849763711965157'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6304519/posts/default/4723849763711965157'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cristinariveragarza.blogspot.com/2011_11_01_archive.html#4723849763711965157' title=''/><author><name>crg</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00504713823600697143</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-g_Abas1ERJU/TZ9rJXxcqNI/AAAAAAAABmQ/RiOlYqYQeQY/s220/crisyvonne-5.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6304519.post-678139271343357113</id><published>2011-11-23T00:26:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2011-11-23T00:28:09.841-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>FUERTEVENTURA: GMAIL POETRY--THE RIGHT MARGINMore about...Fuerteventura Calma »Tristeza »Tren a Las Nubes »Universidad »Invitación de amigo »Feliz Navidad »Libro Poemas »More about...Seguro »Cerraduras Electrónicas »EcoDrive Watch »Dossier »Traducción »Apellido Vasco »More about...Distancia »Lengua »Objetos Religiosos »Pi »Vallas »Te »About these links...--crg</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6304519/posts/default/678139271343357113'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6304519/posts/default/678139271343357113'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cristinariveragarza.blogspot.com/2011_11_01_archive.html#678139271343357113' title=''/><author><name>crg</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00504713823600697143</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-g_Abas1ERJU/TZ9rJXxcqNI/AAAAAAAABmQ/RiOlYqYQeQY/s220/crisyvonne-5.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6304519.post-5065388948875193695</id><published>2011-11-22T07:57:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2011-11-24T14:26:52.761-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>EMOCIONES Y NECROPOLÍTICA[en La Mano Oblicua, columna de los martes del periódico mexicano Milenio, sección de cultura]Cuando Luz María Dávila, la madre de dos de los adolescentes que fueron masacrados en enero del 2010 en Ciudad Juárez, increpó al Presidente, el Presidente, de acuerdo a todas las descripciones, se limitó a “asentir con la cabeza”. Luego de su primera intervención--aquella donde </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6304519/posts/default/5065388948875193695'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6304519/posts/default/5065388948875193695'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cristinariveragarza.blogspot.com/2011_11_01_archive.html#5065388948875193695' title=''/><author><name>crg</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00504713823600697143</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-g_Abas1ERJU/TZ9rJXxcqNI/AAAAAAAABmQ/RiOlYqYQeQY/s220/crisyvonne-5.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6304519.post-1743575850242447741</id><published>2011-11-20T19:14:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-11-22T02:14:44.168-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>AMERICANTell them that I too have one million dollars, tell them that I have accepted a blood transfusion, that I have had a face-lift in Boston, that I own a home with one hundred bloody dogs at my command.Tell them that I too appear in TV, that they interview me when I want the most famous artists, that I get to choose the questions. Tell them that I have certain style for fame and riches. Tell</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6304519/posts/default/1743575850242447741'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6304519/posts/default/1743575850242447741'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cristinariveragarza.blogspot.com/2011_11_01_archive.html#1743575850242447741' title=''/><author><name>crg</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00504713823600697143</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-g_Abas1ERJU/TZ9rJXxcqNI/AAAAAAAABmQ/RiOlYqYQeQY/s220/crisyvonne-5.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6304519.post-3424010980208959252</id><published>2011-11-18T15:53:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2011-11-18T15:53:46.991-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>ESCRITURAS TRANSCIBERIANAS[en Babelia, suplemento del periódico El país, Sábado 19 de noviembre, 2011]La tecnología digital nos reta con su exceso textual. Las cabezas ruedan en espectáculos que bien podrían horrorizar a Medusa. Los indignados toman las plazas públicas. Entre una y otra cosa, se abre paso desde la periferia el libro valiente, el libro crítico, el libro verdaderamente literario. </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6304519/posts/default/3424010980208959252'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6304519/posts/default/3424010980208959252'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cristinariveragarza.blogspot.com/2011_11_01_archive.html#3424010980208959252' title=''/><author><name>crg</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00504713823600697143</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-g_Abas1ERJU/TZ9rJXxcqNI/AAAAAAAABmQ/RiOlYqYQeQY/s220/crisyvonne-5.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6304519.post-2049581647581491248</id><published>2011-11-15T07:54:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-11-15T08:01:29.329-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>UN FANTASMA PERDIDO EN JUÁREZLa propuesta editorial Atelos se fundó en 1995 como parte del proyecto Hip’s Road. Tenía como finalidad publicar, bajo el signo de la poesía, todo tipo de escritura que retara las definiciones limitadas de la poesía. Ahí, en un listado de 50 libros, apareció el trabajo de Rae Armantrout, Leslie Scalapino, Rodrigo Toscano, Tan Lin, entre tantos otros. The Popedology of</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6304519/posts/default/2049581647581491248'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6304519/posts/default/2049581647581491248'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cristinariveragarza.blogspot.com/2011_11_01_archive.html#2049581647581491248' title=''/><author><name>crg</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00504713823600697143</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-g_Abas1ERJU/TZ9rJXxcqNI/AAAAAAAABmQ/RiOlYqYQeQY/s220/crisyvonne-5.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6304519.post-7236117037308374871</id><published>2011-11-14T10:08:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-11-15T07:53:57.585-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>EL INTERFERISTA SABE DEL FLUIR LOCOLiberar a la página del texto, expandir al poema a través de los pulmones--¿de qué manera el performance expande el decir, el código mismo del performance, el lenguaje oculto que vaga dentro del poema escuchado? ¿Es el código la interferencia? La cultura es una forma de interferencia; los humanos son una forma de cultura. ¿Sería factible decir entonces que el </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6304519/posts/default/7236117037308374871'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6304519/posts/default/7236117037308374871'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cristinariveragarza.blogspot.com/2011_11_01_archive.html#7236117037308374871' title=''/><author><name>crg</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00504713823600697143</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-g_Abas1ERJU/TZ9rJXxcqNI/AAAAAAAABmQ/RiOlYqYQeQY/s220/crisyvonne-5.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6304519.post-4551099611957979885</id><published>2011-11-12T12:31:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-11-12T12:40:50.361-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>ALAS DE ISIS: GMAIL POETRY-THE RIGHT MARGINMore about...Estrellas »Colores De Pinturas »Bombillas LED Colores »Lunas »Online Storage Software »Online File Sharing »Alas de Isis »English Translation »More about these links...--crg</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6304519/posts/default/4551099611957979885'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6304519/posts/default/4551099611957979885'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cristinariveragarza.blogspot.com/2011_11_01_archive.html#4551099611957979885' title=''/><author><name>crg</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00504713823600697143</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-g_Abas1ERJU/TZ9rJXxcqNI/AAAAAAAABmQ/RiOlYqYQeQY/s220/crisyvonne-5.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6304519.post-4250547340091483376</id><published>2011-11-11T03:46:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-11-11T19:59:58.975-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>HOY11.11.11ITESM-Campus TolucaVerde Shanghai11:00 hrsITESM-Campues Ciudad de MéxicoVerde Shanghai17:00 hrs--crg</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6304519/posts/default/4250547340091483376'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6304519/posts/default/4250547340091483376'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cristinariveragarza.blogspot.com/2011_11_01_archive.html#4250547340091483376' title=''/><author><name>crg</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00504713823600697143</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-g_Abas1ERJU/TZ9rJXxcqNI/AAAAAAAABmQ/RiOlYqYQeQY/s220/crisyvonne-5.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6304519.post-400326929202801664</id><published>2011-11-10T08:40:00.002-08:00</published><updated>2011-11-10T09:15:36.400-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>HOYEntregaPREMIO INTERNACIONAL AURA ESTRADAFeria del Libro de OaxacaA las 19:30 horasEn la Alameda de León.Con Francisco Goldman, Cristina Rivera Garza, Nicole Krauss, Rivka Galchen, Gabriela Jauregui y Nicolás Alvarado.--crg</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6304519/posts/default/400326929202801664'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6304519/posts/default/400326929202801664'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cristinariveragarza.blogspot.com/2011_11_01_archive.html#400326929202801664' title=''/><author><name>crg</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00504713823600697143</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-g_Abas1ERJU/TZ9rJXxcqNI/AAAAAAAABmQ/RiOlYqYQeQY/s220/crisyvonne-5.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6304519.post-6653187371113836854</id><published>2011-11-09T07:06:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-11-09T07:18:22.824-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>LA CÁMARA VERDELA CÁMARA VERDE, Periódico de Poesía, Noviembre 2011, No. 44Habrá que tirar la casa por la ventana porque ya es noviembre. Si no tenemos casa, entonces habrá que tirar la ventana. Podemos, incluso o al contrario, entrar por la ventana y olvidar la casa. Podemos, junto con el poeta Linh Dinh, romper el vidrio de esa ventana y declarar a los cuatro vientos que toda entrada “deberá </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6304519/posts/default/6653187371113836854'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6304519/posts/default/6653187371113836854'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cristinariveragarza.blogspot.com/2011_11_01_archive.html#6653187371113836854' title=''/><author><name>crg</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00504713823600697143</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-g_Abas1ERJU/TZ9rJXxcqNI/AAAAAAAABmQ/RiOlYqYQeQY/s220/crisyvonne-5.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-FoXvjnjia3w/TrqXIV2MbSI/AAAAAAAAB3g/3NZH66U1Uos/s72-c/camaraverde.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6304519.post-8804812454861747526</id><published>2011-11-08T06:38:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-11-08T06:44:47.184-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>EL PRÍNCIPE DE LO AZUL [en La Mano Oblicua, columna de los martes del periódico mexicano Milenio, sección de cultura]¿Les ha pasado que se enamoran de un color? Maggie Nelson, poeta establecida en California sostiene, como otros antes que ella, que uno “no decide de qué o de quién se enamora… Uno nunca elige”. Pero ella lo dice utilizando un sofisticado sistema de yuxtaposiciones que involucra </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6304519/posts/default/8804812454861747526'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6304519/posts/default/8804812454861747526'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cristinariveragarza.blogspot.com/2011_11_01_archive.html#8804812454861747526' title=''/><author><name>crg</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00504713823600697143</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-g_Abas1ERJU/TZ9rJXxcqNI/AAAAAAAABmQ/RiOlYqYQeQY/s220/crisyvonne-5.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6304519.post-5013900150620000785</id><published>2011-11-07T08:35:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-11-07T08:42:42.935-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>RETOCAR UNA FOTO: GMAIL POETRY--THE RIGHT MARGINMore about...Que ES Tecnología »Que ES Una Célula Madre »Que »Cosas Que Hacer »Paris »Dormir à Paris »Palais Royal Paris »More about...Paranormal Videos »Aniversario Amiga »Ovnis Ovnis »John Morrison »Teaching »Classroom »Technology and Teaching »More about...Gato »Perro »Gato Persa Angora »Una De Gato »Photo »Foto »Photo Album Photo »Retocar Una </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6304519/posts/default/5013900150620000785'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6304519/posts/default/5013900150620000785'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cristinariveragarza.blogspot.com/2011_11_01_archive.html#5013900150620000785' title=''/><author><name>crg</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00504713823600697143</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-g_Abas1ERJU/TZ9rJXxcqNI/AAAAAAAABmQ/RiOlYqYQeQY/s220/crisyvonne-5.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6304519.post-2937156757467225519</id><published>2011-11-04T07:06:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-11-04T07:10:34.421-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>HOY¡Nos vemos por allá!--crg</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6304519/posts/default/2937156757467225519'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6304519/posts/default/2937156757467225519'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cristinariveragarza.blogspot.com/2011_11_01_archive.html#2937156757467225519' title=''/><author><name>crg</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00504713823600697143</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-g_Abas1ERJU/TZ9rJXxcqNI/AAAAAAAABmQ/RiOlYqYQeQY/s220/crisyvonne-5.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-yOkLv9-1kwo/TrPyQYQf8II/AAAAAAAAB3U/mSJLdo29GoM/s72-c/RiveraGarzaPosterIowa.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6304519.post-4222603718427901569</id><published>2011-11-02T09:48:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-11-02T09:57:56.256-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>DOS TURBULENTAS APARICIONES DEL MOUNSTRILLO DE LOS POSOSAlterar, que viene del latín alterare; de alter, otro. It invariably precedes, even if it do not altogether supersede, the determination of what is absolutely desirable and just."Honoring the Subjunctive," The Collected Stories of Lydia Davis, p. 377.--crg</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6304519/posts/default/4222603718427901569'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6304519/posts/default/4222603718427901569'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cristinariveragarza.blogspot.com/2011_11_01_archive.html#4222603718427901569' title=''/><author><name>crg</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00504713823600697143</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-g_Abas1ERJU/TZ9rJXxcqNI/AAAAAAAABmQ/RiOlYqYQeQY/s220/crisyvonne-5.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-xKbteQI5GRw/TrF1AozUraI/AAAAAAAAB3I/w1OKS5fSl9I/s72-c/IMG_2235.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6304519.post-4924552874616029102</id><published>2011-11-01T12:16:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-11-01T14:14:57.660-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>SPANISH IS NO LONGER A FOREIGN LANGUAGE IN THE UNITED STATES, INDEEDGran, gran noticia. The University of Iowa, reconociendo lo que es obvio: que el español ya no es una lengua extranjera en los Estados Unidos, abre un nuevo MFA en español: Si así inicia noviembre no quiero ni imaginar cómo terminará.Allá vamos, puesn. --crg</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6304519/posts/default/4924552874616029102'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6304519/posts/default/4924552874616029102'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cristinariveragarza.blogspot.com/2011_11_01_archive.html#4924552874616029102' title=''/><author><name>crg</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00504713823600697143</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-g_Abas1ERJU/TZ9rJXxcqNI/AAAAAAAABmQ/RiOlYqYQeQY/s220/crisyvonne-5.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6304519.post-4049101209205489488</id><published>2011-11-01T09:05:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-11-01T18:56:03.824-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>LEJOS DE LAS CABECERAS[en La Mano Oblicua, columna de los martes del periódico mexicano Milenio, sección de cultura]En alguna de las páginas de la primera parte de la nueva novela de Michael Ondaatje es posible leer lo siguiente: “Lo interesante ocurre casi siempre en secreto, en los lugares donde no hay poder. Nada de mucho valor pasa en la cabecera de la mesa, organizada usualmente de acuerdo a</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6304519/posts/default/4049101209205489488'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6304519/posts/default/4049101209205489488'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cristinariveragarza.blogspot.com/2011_11_01_archive.html#4049101209205489488' title=''/><author><name>crg</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00504713823600697143</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-g_Abas1ERJU/TZ9rJXxcqNI/AAAAAAAABmQ/RiOlYqYQeQY/s220/crisyvonne-5.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6304519.post-4009387882969626210</id><published>2011-10-29T10:19:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2011-10-29T10:23:46.406-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>EL REHÉNEl rehén, uno de los cuentos incluidos en La frontera más distante (Tusquets, 2009). Cristina Rivera Garza - El rehén   View more documents from Miguel Angel  Hacen falta los espacios en blanco del original, los lugares por donde se cuela el tiempo o la respiración, pero igual va. --crg</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6304519/posts/default/4009387882969626210'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6304519/posts/default/4009387882969626210'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cristinariveragarza.blogspot.com/2011_10_01_archive.html#4009387882969626210' title=''/><author><name>crg</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00504713823600697143</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-g_Abas1ERJU/TZ9rJXxcqNI/AAAAAAAABmQ/RiOlYqYQeQY/s220/crisyvonne-5.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6304519.post-8936444135422164239</id><published>2011-10-27T11:27:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-10-27T11:40:30.747-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>VIERNES EN VIERNESAula Abierta[en diálogo con mi amigo, el poeta Víctor Ortiz Partida]Festival Cultural del ITESOCafetería de la BibliotecaViernes, Octubre 28, 201113:00 hrs¡Guadalajara, ahí nos vemos!--crg</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6304519/posts/default/8936444135422164239'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6304519/posts/default/8936444135422164239'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cristinariveragarza.blogspot.com/2011_10_01_archive.html#8936444135422164239' title=''/><author><name>crg</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00504713823600697143</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-g_Abas1ERJU/TZ9rJXxcqNI/AAAAAAAABmQ/RiOlYqYQeQY/s220/crisyvonne-5.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6304519.post-2218590697428802102</id><published>2011-10-25T08:33:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-10-25T08:37:39.002-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>TODAS LAS CALLES[en La Mano Oblicua, columna de los martes del periódico mexicano Milenio, sección de cultura[¿Será posible hacer un mapa de nuestros muy palpables mundos urbanos en la plataforma 2.0? ¿Pueden en verdad los tuits orientarnos en nuestros paseos por el así llamado mundo real? Hace no mucho, aproveché mi actividad en twitter para describir algunas de las cosas que puedo hacer en mi </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6304519/posts/default/2218590697428802102'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6304519/posts/default/2218590697428802102'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cristinariveragarza.blogspot.com/2011_10_01_archive.html#2218590697428802102' title=''/><author><name>crg</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00504713823600697143</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-g_Abas1ERJU/TZ9rJXxcqNI/AAAAAAAABmQ/RiOlYqYQeQY/s220/crisyvonne-5.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6304519.post-4424930890210000010</id><published>2011-10-24T07:46:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-10-24T10:37:44.566-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>HOYENCUENTRO TELECÁPITA 2011ARTE, PENSAMIENTO Y NUEVOS RELATOSMesa de diálogo con la escritora y el públicoESCRITURAS TRANS/FRONTERIZAS:Cristina Rivera Garza, “Mi paso por tránscrito: el extraño caso de la lengua madrastra y otras señas fronterizas”.15:30 hrsFacultad de Filosofía y Letras, UNAM--crg</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6304519/posts/default/4424930890210000010'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6304519/posts/default/4424930890210000010'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cristinariveragarza.blogspot.com/2011_10_01_archive.html#4424930890210000010' title=''/><author><name>crg</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00504713823600697143</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-g_Abas1ERJU/TZ9rJXxcqNI/AAAAAAAABmQ/RiOlYqYQeQY/s220/crisyvonne-5.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6304519.post-1707291261187328672</id><published>2011-10-24T07:10:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-10-24T07:13:13.815-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>DEL LAT. REFLEXUS6. m. Aquello que reproduce, muestra o pone de manifiesto otra cosa. --crg</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6304519/posts/default/1707291261187328672'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6304519/posts/default/1707291261187328672'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cristinariveragarza.blogspot.com/2011_10_01_archive.html#1707291261187328672' title=''/><author><name>crg</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00504713823600697143</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-g_Abas1ERJU/TZ9rJXxcqNI/AAAAAAAABmQ/RiOlYqYQeQY/s220/crisyvonne-5.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-45IYtGLbuFs/TqVyLMsA3KI/AAAAAAAAB2U/_sPNQYiO0Ik/s72-c/IMG_2195.JPG' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6304519.post-199713189455131970</id><published>2011-10-21T06:56:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-10-21T10:45:02.080-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>HOYPero un poquito antes, a las 4:00 pm y en el mismo lugar, la presentación de Verde Shanghai en compañía de Eduardo Antonio Parra.Nos vemos en el ombligo del mundo, faltaba más. -crg</summary><link rel='related' href='http://escrituraclaustro.blogspot.com/2011/10/jam-de-escritura-improvisacion-en-vivo.html' title=''/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6304519/posts/default/199713189455131970'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6304519/posts/default/199713189455131970'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cristinariveragarza.blogspot.com/2011_10_01_archive.html#199713189455131970' title=''/><author><name>crg</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00504713823600697143</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-g_Abas1ERJU/TZ9rJXxcqNI/AAAAAAAABmQ/RiOlYqYQeQY/s220/crisyvonne-5.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-8Hrxj_r1iZI/TqF7t31oJDI/AAAAAAAAB2E/RfoX4Xq7TL4/s72-c/jamzocalo.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6304519.post-8249263980652323404</id><published>2011-10-18T06:50:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2011-10-18T06:52:50.808-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>LA PIEL DURA[en La Mano Oblicua, columna de los martes del periódico mexicano Milenio, sección de cultura]¿A qué edad empezamos a ser lo que ya íbamos a ser sin remedio? ¿En qué momento queda establecida la serie de rituales y de convenciones a las que denominamos luego, con algo de sorna y algo de resignación, la personalidad propia? ¿Cuándo es que nos damos cuenta de que ya no hay, por más que </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6304519/posts/default/8249263980652323404'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6304519/posts/default/8249263980652323404'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cristinariveragarza.blogspot.com/2011_10_01_archive.html#8249263980652323404' title=''/><author><name>crg</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00504713823600697143</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-g_Abas1ERJU/TZ9rJXxcqNI/AAAAAAAABmQ/RiOlYqYQeQY/s220/crisyvonne-5.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6304519.post-1744169310914398922</id><published>2011-10-12T17:42:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-10-12T17:56:52.660-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>EN POITIERS, FRANCEJueves 13 de Octubre, 2011â 18h-19h30 : Dialogue autour de la littérature mexicaine d’aujourd’hui• espace mendès-France - salle cyberbaseRencontre littéraire inédite avec Cristina RIVERA GARZA, figure de la littérature mexicaine. Débat animé par Vera BROICHHAGEN, responsable administrative et pédagogique, Sciences Po à Poitiers. En partenariat avec Sciences Po campus </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6304519/posts/default/1744169310914398922'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6304519/posts/default/1744169310914398922'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cristinariveragarza.blogspot.com/2011_10_01_archive.html#1744169310914398922' title=''/><author><name>crg</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00504713823600697143</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-g_Abas1ERJU/TZ9rJXxcqNI/AAAAAAAABmQ/RiOlYqYQeQY/s220/crisyvonne-5.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6304519.post-8420596333551891720</id><published>2011-10-12T10:57:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-10-12T11:05:26.772-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>CELEBRAR LA POESÍATodos los habitantes de La Cámara Verde, columna mensual que mantengo desde febrero del 2011, celebran al Periódico de Poesía, cómo no. --crg</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6304519/posts/default/8420596333551891720'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6304519/posts/default/8420596333551891720'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cristinariveragarza.blogspot.com/2011_10_01_archive.html#8420596333551891720' title=''/><author><name>crg</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00504713823600697143</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-g_Abas1ERJU/TZ9rJXxcqNI/AAAAAAAABmQ/RiOlYqYQeQY/s220/crisyvonne-5.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-UJegyXgxRbg/TpXVowtixNI/AAAAAAAAB14/SGb643bSBkc/s72-c/anuncio-presentacion-periodico%2B2011.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6304519.post-4558648850122328240</id><published>2011-10-11T08:42:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-10-11T08:45:04.976-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>COMO QUIEN SE GUARECE IEl 14 de septiembre de 2011 despertamos de nueva cuenta con la imagen de dos cuerpos colgando de un puente. Un hombre; una mujer. Él, atado de las manos. Ella, atada de muñecas y tobillos. Justo como en otras tantas ocasiones, y como también lo notaron con cierto pudor en las notas del periódico, los cuerpos mostraban huellas de tortura. Del abdomen de la mujer, abierto en </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6304519/posts/default/4558648850122328240'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6304519/posts/default/4558648850122328240'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cristinariveragarza.blogspot.com/2011_10_01_archive.html#4558648850122328240' title=''/><author><name>crg</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00504713823600697143</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-g_Abas1ERJU/TZ9rJXxcqNI/AAAAAAAABmQ/RiOlYqYQeQY/s220/crisyvonne-5.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6304519.post-8656459349354596932</id><published>2011-10-07T15:56:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-10-07T22:01:47.343-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>LA CÁMARA VERDELa Cámara Verde, Periódico de Poesía 43, Octubre 2011La Cámara Verde se viste de cuerpo en octubre. Tenía que pasar. Después de todo, como atestigua más de un tuitero, el TL es acaso el último reducto de la cosa nimia, cotidiana, sexual, sentimental. Es fácil ver pasar a los cuerpos por esos rectángulos de 140 caracteres. Ahí andan, haciendo sus cosas de todos los días. Comen, por </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6304519/posts/default/8656459349354596932'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6304519/posts/default/8656459349354596932'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cristinariveragarza.blogspot.com/2011_10_01_archive.html#8656459349354596932' title=''/><author><name>crg</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00504713823600697143</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-g_Abas1ERJU/TZ9rJXxcqNI/AAAAAAAABmQ/RiOlYqYQeQY/s220/crisyvonne-5.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-rbdIL0ni7-Q/To-D1mxCvBI/AAAAAAAAB1w/KYH2ZwLowek/s72-c/camaraverde.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6304519.post-3988140962810378286</id><published>2011-10-06T00:40:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-10-06T00:41:43.763-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>HOYFESTIVAL VIVAMÉRICA 2011Twitteratura: ¿literatura o escritura?, panel con Yolanda Arroyo y Gaby CastellanosJueves 6 de Octubre, 21:30 A 22:30 H. Casa de América, Anfiteatro Gabriela MistralMadrid, España--crg</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6304519/posts/default/3988140962810378286'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6304519/posts/default/3988140962810378286'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cristinariveragarza.blogspot.com/2011_10_01_archive.html#3988140962810378286' title=''/><author><name>crg</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00504713823600697143</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-g_Abas1ERJU/TZ9rJXxcqNI/AAAAAAAABmQ/RiOlYqYQeQY/s220/crisyvonne-5.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6304519.post-3513469527179226259</id><published>2011-10-04T08:36:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-10-04T09:06:46.596-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>ANTES DE IRNOS[en La Mano Oblicua, columna de los martes del periódico mexicano Milenio, sección de cultura]Se trata de las puertas de un elevador. Si alguien mirara esas puertas de frente, tendría que darle la espalda al ventanal por donde entra, y a cuyo ras se detiene al mismo tiempo, el cielo más gris. Entre las puertas del elevador y el ventanal está el piso de madera, las sillas, las mesas,</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6304519/posts/default/3513469527179226259'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6304519/posts/default/3513469527179226259'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cristinariveragarza.blogspot.com/2011_10_01_archive.html#3513469527179226259' title=''/><author><name>crg</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00504713823600697143</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-g_Abas1ERJU/TZ9rJXxcqNI/AAAAAAAABmQ/RiOlYqYQeQY/s220/crisyvonne-5.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6304519.post-6139581551656978121</id><published>2011-10-03T21:10:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-10-03T21:21:43.464-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>PEREGRINAR EN HIP-HOPMcBera y McCrush, hiphoperos de Tamaulipas, leyeron Peregrinar, uno de los textos de El disco de Newton. Diez ensayos sobre el color. Luego lo re-escribieron, lo tacharon, lo subrayaron, lo mixtearon, lo excavaron, lo trastocaron y, al final, lo cantaron juntos en la plaza Juárez de Ciudad Victoria justo al inicio de octubre. Esto es:        03 PEREGRINO by El BeraY esto es </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6304519/posts/default/6139581551656978121'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6304519/posts/default/6139581551656978121'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cristinariveragarza.blogspot.com/2011_10_01_archive.html#6139581551656978121' title=''/><author><name>crg</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00504713823600697143</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-g_Abas1ERJU/TZ9rJXxcqNI/AAAAAAAABmQ/RiOlYqYQeQY/s220/crisyvonne-5.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6304519.post-8862637674522264890</id><published>2011-10-03T09:01:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-10-03T09:03:35.420-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>DESPEJAR Y VAPULEARDos secciones de El disco de Newton. Diez ensayos sobre el color en La estafeta del viento. Revista de poesía de la Casa de América, Segunda época/Edición digital. Y nos vemos en Madrid en un par de días, cómo no. --crg</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6304519/posts/default/8862637674522264890'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6304519/posts/default/8862637674522264890'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cristinariveragarza.blogspot.com/2011_10_01_archive.html#8862637674522264890' title=''/><author><name>crg</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00504713823600697143</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-g_Abas1ERJU/TZ9rJXxcqNI/AAAAAAAABmQ/RiOlYqYQeQY/s220/crisyvonne-5.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6304519.post-5051190310452614913</id><published>2011-10-01T20:50:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-10-04T22:22:14.098-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>QUÉ CORAZÓN TAN GRANDE, TAMAULIPASMuchas gracias. Y la columna de Libertad García: Los lenguajes de la ciudad.--crg</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6304519/posts/default/5051190310452614913'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6304519/posts/default/5051190310452614913'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cristinariveragarza.blogspot.com/2011_10_01_archive.html#5051190310452614913' title=''/><author><name>crg</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00504713823600697143</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-g_Abas1ERJU/TZ9rJXxcqNI/AAAAAAAABmQ/RiOlYqYQeQY/s220/crisyvonne-5.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6304519.post-4300440634627270644</id><published>2011-10-01T07:07:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-10-01T15:29:12.733-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>HOYComprendo, con emoción, que hoy, probablemente mientras escribo esto, hay 1000 salas de lectura leyendo mis libros a lo ancho y largo de mi país. Se trata, me dicen, de un Homenaje Nacional que celebra ese acto íntimo y crítico y lúdico que es la lectura. A las 6:00 de la tarde, en el espacio público de una plaza del corazón abierto que es Tamaulipas, leeré también, y charlaré con la </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6304519/posts/default/4300440634627270644'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6304519/posts/default/4300440634627270644'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cristinariveragarza.blogspot.com/2011_10_01_archive.html#4300440634627270644' title=''/><author><name>crg</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00504713823600697143</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-g_Abas1ERJU/TZ9rJXxcqNI/AAAAAAAABmQ/RiOlYqYQeQY/s220/crisyvonne-5.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6304519.post-1344462337768085617</id><published>2011-09-29T23:16:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-09-29T23:20:20.983-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>DESDE NADIE ME VERÁ LLORARRaimundo Neto escribió en Vida e Estilo sobre Ninguém me verá chorar: A felicidade por R$4.90--crg</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6304519/posts/default/1344462337768085617'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6304519/posts/default/1344462337768085617'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cristinariveragarza.blogspot.com/2011_09_01_archive.html#1344462337768085617' title=''/><author><name>crg</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00504713823600697143</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-g_Abas1ERJU/TZ9rJXxcqNI/AAAAAAAABmQ/RiOlYqYQeQY/s220/crisyvonne-5.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6304519.post-6378856331624326976</id><published>2011-09-27T12:34:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-09-27T12:35:44.378-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>DESDE VERDE SHANGHAIEduardo Sabugal escribió en Crítica. Revista Cultural de la Universidad Autónoma de Puebla: La caja verde de Cristina.--crg</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6304519/posts/default/6378856331624326976'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6304519/posts/default/6378856331624326976'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cristinariveragarza.blogspot.com/2011_09_01_archive.html#6378856331624326976' title=''/><author><name>crg</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00504713823600697143</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-g_Abas1ERJU/TZ9rJXxcqNI/AAAAAAAABmQ/RiOlYqYQeQY/s220/crisyvonne-5.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6304519.post-117262495878083745</id><published>2011-09-27T07:44:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-09-27T07:48:31.202-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>TRAVESTISMOS EPISTOLARES[en La Mano Oblicua, columna de los martes del periódico mexicano Milenio, sección de cultura]La situación es, de entrada, bastante simple: Un hombre y una mujer intercambian textos. Es más: El hombre y la mujer intercambian largos textos de manera electrónica por un periodo de tiempo que hace necesario el uso del término “antaño”. La situación, de entrada simple, luego se</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6304519/posts/default/117262495878083745'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6304519/posts/default/117262495878083745'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cristinariveragarza.blogspot.com/2011_09_01_archive.html#117262495878083745' title=''/><author><name>crg</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00504713823600697143</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-g_Abas1ERJU/TZ9rJXxcqNI/AAAAAAAABmQ/RiOlYqYQeQY/s220/crisyvonne-5.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6304519.post-3007738790996412252</id><published>2011-09-26T09:46:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2011-09-26T13:08:38.143-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>UNA DETECTIVE, UN PLAGIO, DOS ESCRITORASMuy honrada y además divertida con el cuento que Rose Mary Salum publicó en Literal. Latin American Voices, 26: Una de ellas. --crg</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6304519/posts/default/3007738790996412252'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6304519/posts/default/3007738790996412252'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cristinariveragarza.blogspot.com/2011_09_01_archive.html#3007738790996412252' title=''/><author><name>crg</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00504713823600697143</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-g_Abas1ERJU/TZ9rJXxcqNI/AAAAAAAABmQ/RiOlYqYQeQY/s220/crisyvonne-5.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6304519.post-5117684283047801978</id><published>2011-09-24T09:44:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-09-24T16:56:29.180-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>CUATRO APARICIONES RECIENTES DEL MONSTRUILLO DE LOS POSOSPar la Nature, heureux comme avec une femme, que dijo Arthur, ya saben cuál, un día que fue feliz. El mismo día, por cierto, en que Yoko, ya saben cuál, dijo: Make a painting in which color/ comes out only under certain light/ at certain time of the day. Make it a very short time. The rococo style in porcelain--an art of playful curves from</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6304519/posts/default/5117684283047801978'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6304519/posts/default/5117684283047801978'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cristinariveragarza.blogspot.com/2011_09_01_archive.html#5117684283047801978' title=''/><author><name>crg</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00504713823600697143</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-g_Abas1ERJU/TZ9rJXxcqNI/AAAAAAAABmQ/RiOlYqYQeQY/s220/crisyvonne-5.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-MCHLGts8-fM/Tn4JT3MMatI/AAAAAAAAB1Q/wX_tbNOPeYw/s72-c/IMG_2011.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6304519.post-5927018105382608749</id><published>2011-09-23T14:15:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-09-23T14:16:10.380-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>DESDE VERDE SHANGHAIRubén Aguilar escribió en Animal Político: Lo que quiso decir--crg</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6304519/posts/default/5927018105382608749'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6304519/posts/default/5927018105382608749'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cristinariveragarza.blogspot.com/2011_09_01_archive.html#5927018105382608749' title=''/><author><name>crg</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00504713823600697143</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-g_Abas1ERJU/TZ9rJXxcqNI/AAAAAAAABmQ/RiOlYqYQeQY/s220/crisyvonne-5.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6304519.post-2371981869132924016</id><published>2011-09-23T10:29:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-09-23T13:21:09.723-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>PEQUEÑA TRADUCCIÓN MATUTINAmira, te llamaré porque tengotu número y te juro que deberías conocera alguien, ¿no? esa persona de la que te hablé, ¿recuerdas?¿como hace 2 años? debería ser la próximapersona que conozcas y es que es una imposibilidad no-humanalo sé, pero lo que te estoy diciendo es quea alguien así le gustaría conocerte a tio a alguien como tú, o al menos tener el chancede una </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6304519/posts/default/2371981869132924016'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6304519/posts/default/2371981869132924016'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cristinariveragarza.blogspot.com/2011_09_01_archive.html#2371981869132924016' title=''/><author><name>crg</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00504713823600697143</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-g_Abas1ERJU/TZ9rJXxcqNI/AAAAAAAABmQ/RiOlYqYQeQY/s220/crisyvonne-5.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6304519.post-21945524454020132</id><published>2011-09-23T07:34:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-09-23T08:22:18.877-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>LOS DÍCERES[notas para una lectura septembrina de Pedro Páramo]Oí ladraban hubiera despertado Vi cruzar -llamé respondió estuvieran alcancé oír platicaban: -Mira viene es Es Pon vámonos va es quiere crees sigue? se me figura Deja correr ha quedado ves hubiera resultado hagas estuvo Dicen es se encarga conchavarle escapamos quiero tener ver vámonos Vámonos -Dicesperros hombre calle: voz. vuelta </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6304519/posts/default/21945524454020132'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6304519/posts/default/21945524454020132'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cristinariveragarza.blogspot.com/2011_09_01_archive.html#21945524454020132' title=''/><author><name>crg</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00504713823600697143</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-g_Abas1ERJU/TZ9rJXxcqNI/AAAAAAAABmQ/RiOlYqYQeQY/s220/crisyvonne-5.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6304519.post-8114214093311605644</id><published>2011-09-22T21:16:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-09-22T21:24:19.272-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>ON THE OUTSKIRTS OF FORM“Yo era un barrio acumulado en las afueras de la forma/ a punto de existir y no existir como la fe/ estupefaciente en la elipsis de una boca monumental”. "Tercer Mundo", en Los Textos del yo.--crg</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6304519/posts/default/8114214093311605644'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6304519/posts/default/8114214093311605644'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cristinariveragarza.blogspot.com/2011_09_01_archive.html#8114214093311605644' title=''/><author><name>crg</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00504713823600697143</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-g_Abas1ERJU/TZ9rJXxcqNI/AAAAAAAABmQ/RiOlYqYQeQY/s220/crisyvonne-5.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-kw551o6PujE/TnwIu1hSQuI/AAAAAAAAB1I/vqW8pxIeays/s72-c/Davidson%252520-%252520Outskirts%252520flier.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6304519.post-7772005603957136542</id><published>2011-09-22T09:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-09-22T09:51:43.506-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>TODO ESO OYES[notas para una lectura septembrina de Pedro Páramo]Ahorita estoy muy ocupado con mi «luna de miel».Así que no te asustes si oyes ecos más recientes, Juan Preciado.Bardas descarapeladas que enseñaban sus adobes revenidos.Cada suspiro es como un sorbo de vida del que uno se deshace. Cuando caminas, sientes que te van pisando los pasos. »-¡Damiana!¡Damiana Cisneros!  -¡Damiana! -grité-</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6304519/posts/default/7772005603957136542'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6304519/posts/default/7772005603957136542'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cristinariveragarza.blogspot.com/2011_09_01_archive.html#7772005603957136542' title=''/><author><name>crg</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00504713823600697143</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-g_Abas1ERJU/TZ9rJXxcqNI/AAAAAAAABmQ/RiOlYqYQeQY/s220/crisyvonne-5.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6304519.post-6069492655337018169</id><published>2011-09-21T22:52:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-09-21T23:17:17.001-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>USUFRUTO[notas para una lectura septembrina de Pedro Páramo]El usufructo (del latín usus fructus, uso de los frutos) es un derecho real de goce o disfrute de una cosa ajena. El usufructuario posee la cosa pero no es de él (tiene la posesión, pero no la propiedad). Puede utilizarla y disfrutarla (obtener sus frutos, tanto en especie como monetarios), pero no es su dueño. Por ello no podrá </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6304519/posts/default/6069492655337018169'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6304519/posts/default/6069492655337018169'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cristinariveragarza.blogspot.com/2011_09_01_archive.html#6069492655337018169' title=''/><author><name>crg</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00504713823600697143</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-g_Abas1ERJU/TZ9rJXxcqNI/AAAAAAAABmQ/RiOlYqYQeQY/s220/crisyvonne-5.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6304519.post-541620326411803073</id><published>2011-09-21T20:13:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-09-21T20:17:58.051-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>PEQUEÑA TRADUCCIÓN NOCTURNADigamos que Ariadna gira con las Nueva Canciones,gira y canta, la primerapara el cuerpo, la segunda para la caza,las que restan para los segundos, los minutos,la horas del día, las semanas de los meses,el vuelo de los años, el hilo de las vidas,el llamado en esos pasillos tan negros como la noche.Digamos que es el cuerpo en el tiempo lo que ella gira,el cuerpo en un </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6304519/posts/default/541620326411803073'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6304519/posts/default/541620326411803073'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cristinariveragarza.blogspot.com/2011_09_01_archive.html#541620326411803073' title=''/><author><name>crg</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00504713823600697143</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-g_Abas1ERJU/TZ9rJXxcqNI/AAAAAAAABmQ/RiOlYqYQeQY/s220/crisyvonne-5.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6304519.post-8447309387113659110</id><published>2011-09-20T23:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-09-20T23:06:31.440-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>TOMORROWLAND ES OTOÑO ES TOMORROWLAND&amp;NOW is a festival of fiction, poetry, and staged play readings; literary rituals, performance pieces (digital, sound, and otherwise), electronic and multimedia projects; and intergenre literary work of all kinds, including criti-fictional presentations and creatively critical papers. We particularly encourage pieces that promote linguistic and genre </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6304519/posts/default/8447309387113659110'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6304519/posts/default/8447309387113659110'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cristinariveragarza.blogspot.com/2011_09_01_archive.html#8447309387113659110' title=''/><author><name>crg</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00504713823600697143</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-g_Abas1ERJU/TZ9rJXxcqNI/AAAAAAAABmQ/RiOlYqYQeQY/s220/crisyvonne-5.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6304519.post-1430239404594934040</id><published>2011-09-20T08:12:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2011-09-20T14:28:58.013-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>EL INQUILINO DE MÁRAI[en La Mano Oblicua, columna de los martes del periódico mexicano Milenio, sección de cultura]Es difícil explicar por qué o para qué visita uno las casas de los escritores muertos. Tal vez sólo sea la necesidad de ver el mundo justo desde el ángulo en que fue visto, y escrito, por él o por ella. Quizá sea la carnal curiosidad del cuerpo que quiere experimentar lo que es ser </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6304519/posts/default/1430239404594934040'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6304519/posts/default/1430239404594934040'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cristinariveragarza.blogspot.com/2011_09_01_archive.html#1430239404594934040' title=''/><author><name>crg</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00504713823600697143</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-g_Abas1ERJU/TZ9rJXxcqNI/AAAAAAAABmQ/RiOlYqYQeQY/s220/crisyvonne-5.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-BOLawW5J0Ng/TnjsCxuCmTI/AAAAAAAAB1A/RauxbnVmR7I/s72-c/IMG_2019.JPG' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6304519.post-1702351210318649408</id><published>2011-09-19T21:25:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-09-20T11:11:32.882-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>QUITARSE EL SOMBREROEl Maestro ha olvidado su sombrero. Sin su sombrero no puede volar. Sin su sombrero se le escapan los sueños.Sin su sombrero no puede inclinarel sombrero ante la mujer que pasaa quien recuerdade algún lado, como en un sueño,un cuarto en un sueño o tal vez una playa,una playa cerca del mar,deslumbradoramente blancos,sin sombreros, él y ella. Michael Palmer, "The Classical Study</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6304519/posts/default/1702351210318649408'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6304519/posts/default/1702351210318649408'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cristinariveragarza.blogspot.com/2011_09_01_archive.html#1702351210318649408' title=''/><author><name>crg</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00504713823600697143</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-g_Abas1ERJU/TZ9rJXxcqNI/AAAAAAAABmQ/RiOlYqYQeQY/s220/crisyvonne-5.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6304519.post-8931694098290922275</id><published>2011-09-18T22:31:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-09-18T23:05:22.823-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>A GYERTYÁK CSONKIG ÉGNEK Lo que veía Sándor Márai al entrar en su casa de San Diego:Lo que veía Sándor Márai al salir de su casa de San Diego:--crg</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6304519/posts/default/8931694098290922275'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6304519/posts/default/8931694098290922275'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cristinariveragarza.blogspot.com/2011_09_01_archive.html#8931694098290922275' title=''/><author><name>crg</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00504713823600697143</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-g_Abas1ERJU/TZ9rJXxcqNI/AAAAAAAABmQ/RiOlYqYQeQY/s220/crisyvonne-5.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-3aKC0gePEDw/TnbVN68PTxI/AAAAAAAAB0w/rEEMxICzrMk/s72-c/IMG_2018.JPG' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6304519.post-3375879516740356951</id><published>2011-09-16T08:59:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-09-16T09:00:49.247-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>HOYFeria del Libro de SaltilloPresentación/Lectura de Verde Shanghai¡Nos vemos por allá!--crg</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6304519/posts/default/3375879516740356951'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6304519/posts/default/3375879516740356951'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cristinariveragarza.blogspot.com/2011_09_01_archive.html#3375879516740356951' title=''/><author><name>crg</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00504713823600697143</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-g_Abas1ERJU/TZ9rJXxcqNI/AAAAAAAABmQ/RiOlYqYQeQY/s220/crisyvonne-5.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6304519.post-651243043323597494</id><published>2011-09-14T15:39:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-09-14T15:43:44.922-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>CROSS-GENRE, EXPERIMENTAL, COLLEGIALEscritores del mundo, he aquí: MFAProgram in Writing/UCSD--crg</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6304519/posts/default/651243043323597494'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6304519/posts/default/651243043323597494'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cristinariveragarza.blogspot.com/2011_09_01_archive.html#651243043323597494' title=''/><author><name>crg</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00504713823600697143</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-g_Abas1ERJU/TZ9rJXxcqNI/AAAAAAAABmQ/RiOlYqYQeQY/s220/crisyvonne-5.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6304519.post-1891385331106960705</id><published>2011-09-14T07:57:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-09-14T08:02:21.742-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>MORE ABOUT: GMAIL POETRY--THE RIGHT MARGINLoops Lectura y escrituraLectura de manos(recetas de verdura)Drum and bass loopsAlmaTonos de cabelloDreadlocksSombras de colores para los ojosAlma de camisaContratoLectura de tarotLectura y escrituraDrum and bass loopsMore about these links--crg</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6304519/posts/default/1891385331106960705'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6304519/posts/default/1891385331106960705'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cristinariveragarza.blogspot.com/2011_09_01_archive.html#1891385331106960705' title=''/><author><name>crg</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00504713823600697143</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-g_Abas1ERJU/TZ9rJXxcqNI/AAAAAAAABmQ/RiOlYqYQeQY/s220/crisyvonne-5.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6304519.post-3961648372003423272</id><published>2011-09-13T07:33:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2011-09-13T07:39:43.207-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>LA LECTORA SEVERA[en La Mano Oblicua, columna de los martes del periódico mexicano Milenio, sección de cultura]Decían Deleuze y Guattari, en aquel multicitado ensayo sobre Kafka, que para llamarse “menor” una literatura tendría que reunir las siguientes tres condiciones: la desterritorialización de la lengua, la articulación de lo individual en lo inmediato-político, y el dispositivo colectivo de</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6304519/posts/default/3961648372003423272'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6304519/posts/default/3961648372003423272'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cristinariveragarza.blogspot.com/2011_09_01_archive.html#3961648372003423272' title=''/><author><name>crg</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00504713823600697143</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-g_Abas1ERJU/TZ9rJXxcqNI/AAAAAAAABmQ/RiOlYqYQeQY/s220/crisyvonne-5.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6304519.post-2777873449720358340</id><published>2011-09-11T08:26:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-09-11T08:45:22.588-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>EL BOTÍN DE SAN LUISIgnacio Betancourt, José María Facha. El modernista desconocido. Erotismo y revolución.Juan de Alba, Poesía y prosa. Edición bilingüe.Juan de Alba, Dios existe. Poematrices. Poesía.Luis Alberto Arellano, PlexoAlexandro Roque, OlimpotosíAnubis, De cuando escuchas pasar el tren y Julian (video).Santiago Matías, EspectroArturo Carrera, aA Momento de simetríaMetrópolis, No. 36, </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6304519/posts/default/2777873449720358340'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6304519/posts/default/2777873449720358340'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cristinariveragarza.blogspot.com/2011_09_01_archive.html#2777873449720358340' title=''/><author><name>crg</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00504713823600697143</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-g_Abas1ERJU/TZ9rJXxcqNI/AAAAAAAABmQ/RiOlYqYQeQY/s220/crisyvonne-5.jpg'/></author></entry></feed>
