Homenaje a Javier Tomeo en Zaragoza

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Si andáis este próximo viernes 24 de octubre por Zaragoza, os propongo este interesante plan: el grupo teatral La Luciérnaga representará la obra Historias Mínimas, del dramaturgo Javier Tomeo.

La representación forma parte de un homenaje al fallecido autor, en el que han participado, además de dicho grupo, La Asociación Aragonesa de Escritores, los ayuntamientos de Zaragoza y Quicena y la Biblioteca Javier Tomeo, sin olvidarnos también de un gran número de amigos y admiradores del dramaturgo.

¿Dónde y cuándo será? Pues a las siete de la tarde del viernes 24 de octurbre, en el Centro Cívico Teodoro Sánchez Púnter, situado en el número 2 de la Plaza Mayor, en el Barrio de San José, Zaragoza. La entrada es gratuita (hasta completar aforo), así que no hay excusa para faltar a esta cita cultural.

Os pongo un mapa de la zona (pinchad para agrandar):

Centro Cívico Teodoro Sánchez Púnter

Presentación variada en Madrid

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Este próximo viernes 24 de octubre, en Madrid, se presentan tres obras de la editorial alcoyana Luhu. Se trata de Armado de impaciencia, de Antonio Heras, La práctica del Caos, de Daniel Ibiza, y Sigilo, de Cristina Valero. Tres libros de muy diferente temática, pues tenemos novela negra, erótica y libro de relatos queer.

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La presentación se realizará a las ocho de la tarde en LANAU Espacio Creativo, situado en la calle Mallorca, 4 (no muy lejos de Atocha). A continuación os pongo un breve resumen de las obras.

Armado de impaciencia de  Antonio Heras

10711613_10152278448787821_189599770_nSe trata de  una serie de relatos  de temática queer experimental aparentemente inconexos entre sí.

En cada una de estas historias, los protagonistas son vapuleados por el azar, el destino, el hombre al que aman o sus propios deseos ocultos, imperiosos, ávidos de manifestarse. Unos son humorísticos y otros dramáticos. En unos hablan de amor en la Segunda Guerra Mundial y en otros de la obsesión de un hombre por un gimnasta ruso.

La Práctica del Caos de Daniel Ibiza

10685108_10152260133972821_505996670_nDanilo Gabalda es un joven desafortunado y de carácter indulgente que trabaja junto a sus compinches para un mafioso local asociado a peligrosas organizaciones. Después de muchas fechorías delictivas sin suerte, Danilo se dará cuenta de que no puede contra la presión, y buscará huir desesperadamente viendo como todo lo que hay a su alrededor se cae a pedazos. Comienza así su trepidante lucha contra todas las circunstancias que le rodean empeñadas en aplastarlo. Un largo camino que tendrá que recorrer para conseguir encontrar la felicidad.

Sigilo de Cristina Valero

10434198_504862866312534_6874813706708670654_nEs una novela trágico-erótica centrada en la vida de Jesús, un silencioso muchacho que vive en la Andalucía rural de principios de los años 90 en una familia que ha pasado muchas adversidades. Siempre con el sigilo de aliado, Jesús vive una serie de experiencias marcadas por lo prohibido y  la doble moral  de un pueblo que de cara  actúa de una forma, y de espaldas de otra.

Costumbrismo, machismo,  incesto, onanismo, violencia y locura son algunos de los temas que trata de la obra. Aspectos del comportamiento humano siempre reprimidos en público por los personajes, pero que afloran cuando nadie está mirando.

Short story – A Hold-up

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Everything took place so fast, or that I thought. It was almost time for the branch to close; there were only four clients inside when the two hooded men entered.

“To the ground, fuck!” Those were the first words spoken by the head man, while raising the revolver he was holding in his right hand.

Martha, the new intern, was the only person who remained standing after the shout, arms moved up. The rest of us didn’t hesitate obeying the bandit’s call.

“Hey, you, bitch! I’d said down to the ground!”

I saw her. She was trembling, absolutely paralyzed by fear, and unable to follow those simple instructions. I was afraid of that guy would use his weapon against her, so I opted for speaking.

“We’ll obey, calm down”, I said, without daring to look in his direction. “Allow me to help her lie down, OK?”

After a tense silence, the robber agreed with this. Trying to do it the slowest possible way, I stood up and moved towards Martha. Her eyes crossed mine, although she looked incapable of move even her head. I put my hand on her shoulder before talking.

“It won’t happen anything. If we’ll do what they’re saying, I’m sure all is gonna be fine.”

She managed to nod, with some effort, and began to lower her arms at the same time that suggesting a smile. At this point, I swear it, I was convinced of what I was just said.

I was wrong.

“You, motherfucker! What the hell are ya doin’?”

I pictured a gun aiming at my head, and an anxious finger about to pull the trigger. When I turned around, the reality was different: the second thief had drawn a weapon too (a pistol) and was aiming at the floor. One of the clients was holding a small cellular, who knows if his intention was to make a call or a photo. Anyway, that hadn’t pleased the armed man, more than willing to use his pistol in seconds.

Both of them were masked, so their voices sounded almost unrecognizable. However, I was able to recognize whom just talked.

“Peter?” I asked, being aware of the mistake the very moment I made the question. He abandoned his target and aimed me instead. With a courage outburst, or maybe craziness, I said to him: “You won’t get away with this, and you know it.”

Miraculously, my words didn’t make Peter shoot me, but putting down his weapon and preparing to holster it. The first one, revolver on hand, was observing the scene saying nothing.

“Let’s go out”, Peter said.

“Out? Are you nuts? This guy here knows who you are, and if you’re caught…”

“What the hell I can do, huh?” Peter raised his voice. The other didn’t look like to be pleased by that.

So he shot directly to his face.

Had I said Martha was more calmed? At the moment, a high-pitched yell sounded behind me, clarifying that woman’s nerves had trespassed its limit. Simultaneously the alarm bell started to be heard. I think John activated it. The thief, with his gun still smoking, aimed at Martha.

One never knows how he could react in a situation like that. If you asked me, only a couple of days ago, surely my answer would be to lie down on the floor, trying not to see what would happen around me.

What I did was putting myself between the gun and the woman. Ultimately, between her and the bullet.

It wasn’t a hit, nor a pinch; rather it was an intense and fast burning in the chest. The alarm kept sounding, muffled by the more and more intense (that I believed) yells of Martha. I think I heard sirens, bangs and more shots… But all that was fleeing far away from me.

Because, when all ended, I was already dead.

Short story – Survivor

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Sergei stares at me with his eyes wide open. Actually, he doesn’t see me; he can’t. I didn’t kill him, speaking strictly, or the others. They were already dead, some hours before I found them wandering the streets of the small town where I am.

With some effort, I pull out the axe from his head and prepare myself for a new attack. However, it doesn’t come. Somehow I’d managed to finish with all those creatures.

I smile, victoriously.

Then, when I look my left hand, my smile becomes a grimace. I’d been bitten.

I’m doomed.

Xavier makes its appearance (now, it’s too late) running from the corner of a nearby building. I know if he’s aware of my wound, there won’t be mercy or compassion. I wouldn’t have any of it.

He comes by my side, making a victory gesture. As if he’d done something. I point behind him and, even there’s nothing, he turns to check.

I drive the axe into his skull. Self-defense. After all, he would kill me if he could.

This time I’m not capable of taking back the axe before Andy and Jules see me. They look me and later watch the inanimate corpse of Xavier. Jules is carrying a gun and, if being not as stupid, he would shoot me on sight.

He doesn’t do it; wants to know what was happened. And he will.

I pick his weapon and move behind him. Shoot two times to Andy, who already started realizing what took place. Now, I aim with the gun to Jules’ head. He doesn’t dare to turn around. It’s the same for me.

I pull the trigger.

At this time, the pain comes to me. It’s a pain harder than any I ever feel. My mind’s obscuring, trying to cover my senses with the cape of unconscious.

No! I’m gonna live!

I feel stronger than the infection. I defeat it. Nothing can ends with me, not even the intense hungry I’m feeling. Jules is still warmed; I feel that while biting him. His dense, warm blood is covering all my face.

Yes, I am a survivor. And I will be, no matter what it takes.