Publicado el

Inception of the Tico Commons

Building a NEW framework for collective collaborative global resilient plan

We are all in on it. Somehow we all think that the work we are doing is heading towards this direction. The more we talk about it, the more it actually becomes mainstream «chit chat». It’s happening in the calls we are answering to. Or in the way we are shaping policy, transformational drive, and value-based projects being deployed trying to tackle the systemic biggest and greatest challenges. It’s happening in the local scale, and we see how this local effort resonates to the bigger picture, as the global scenarios condition the sustainability of our planet, the use of our limited resources, the context of the interconected society, and tensions that have limit the continuos economic growth that the neoliberal project promised years ago, and failed to deliver.

On the other hand, populist over-simplistic solutions are spreading their influence among the population that has most suffered from the undelivered expectations from the political and economical models of the past few decades. These explorations and diagnosis is now spiraling into the realms of disinformation, fake news, pseudoscientific theories, falacies, lies, and narratives that are established across platforms, institutions, universities, researches,… that seem to cover the whole spectrum of intelectual and scientific excellence to back up just about any given new age theory. Thus, trust is perceived as something we are only willing to give the people we share the same sort of political, social and thought structure, and everyone else at the opposite end. This is true regardless of where the truth actually lies. But people tend to think they are the ones holding the truth. But the wildest lie is being amplified as a holy truth. Religions now turn to influencers to back up the social agreement and co-dependence on the power drill that some of the old and new players are exercising towards the masses that congregate around an over-simplistic definition of: «us».

Marketing of what’s happening. The branding of a transformational ride. The ultimate sensation of the revolution that is currently taking place, embracing our role in the consumer business of the interconected society, as we have all jumped into the band-wagon of the NEW world.

The computational capacity upgrade and the emergence of IA rapidly evolving as the algorithms capture more and more acurately the information that we willingly or blissfully unaware, share with the AI that’s rolled out seemlessly as a global experiment of the NEW evolving AI, but triggered by the understanding of a common stand for the greater good of our collective interconnected society.

I’ve experienced the risk of overeaching too far beyond, and I have been spelled from the system I’ve help to create. I’ve fallen out of love with the expression of interest in the struggle against our biggest fears taking place right in front of our eyes. And I’ve felt betrayed by my own incapacity to follow through, and by the lack of clarity to transfer the knowledge and experience generated across my own journey to where I am today. And I now know that I am ready to step through that barrier. And let go of the weight.

I’m back in the value business. And I will do my best to interconect the dots that the nine NEW dimentions will unleash in the quest around the first 99 days of 2025. This kickstarts the year of the ethernal return. It will take place in the course of action that has been designed and plotted as a cultural project that goes beyond time and space. It’s been here for oever 999 days, hours and some 99 formats that I will express and explain in at least 9 different ways. In 9 diderent categories.

It’s an old story.

And a brand new scope.

A NEW opportunity.

It’s linked with everything else.

Everywhere.

Here; now; then.

For the common good is the destination of the Tico Commons.

And this overexplanation will still 9 other ways to shape the actual launch of a Tico Commons. And this will happen as we go through the 99 days. You will too have a say in this relevant political reassessment. It’s all NEW from now on. Even in the political design of the agenda. A current active plan.

Join me.

I’m here to help.

Connecting the dots: evangelizing and feedbackloopping.

A classic NEW standard.

And the 99 local narratives.

The voices from beyond.

ALLS

Publicado el

Swift, Thomas Mann, Panofsky, Gombrich

On Moo Pak

Reading material from a reading source. Books that lead you to books. Writing about reading. Thought from another time, still present, still meaningful, still new. Ideas that go beyond the state of affairs, that turn out to be travelling fast nowadays. As always, in accordance with the feeling of each time, magnified by the disruption of sources of meaningless distractions. All the time. Everywhere.

Tuns out I have to read more. More sources. More books. Other cultures. It’s not new. It’s an old assignment. And I still have a to read list that tends to infinity. And yet, somehow, sometimes, I get in the zone, and accumulate a winning streak. I’m reading just about the amount of books I could handle. And still, sometimes, it feels like it’s not enough.

Johnathan Swift

You look at a writer’s picture and wonder. In this case, a painting. That’s the person. Under his skin, there’s the story. How did it come to mind at first? How did it evolve into the final draft of the finished print? How many people got involved in this process?

The writer is the lone creator on it own. It requires no one else to pitch in, while sometimes relevant feedback may help to assist the point. A good friends ear. An editor’s advice. A publisher desire to risk the chances of people caring. At that point, there are more people involved. We are now talking about the industry. About the market, and no longer about the writing in itself. But what’s good writing without readers. Just thoughts. Lonely ones. Aspirations. Melancholy.

Thomas Mann

Thomas Mann was the man. Cigarrete lit, winter gloves of a gentle-man. Carefully shaped and tendered mustage. Four button suit. Stern wooden chair. Glancing eyes.

Jonh and Tom enter a room. They came together. The room turns and judges the two charecters. Something is on. Everybody knows. They still keep their cool, as the spell has been bound, and the action is just waiting to reveal itself. It will take some time. It’s not loud. Not yet. It’s only intriguing. And sparkling. Nobody else has that chill. Yet the party has been transformed. In an unexpected way. A good way.

That’s how you differentiate writers. The ones that can enter the room and light up the space. And the ones that only do that when they enter into their world. Where everything, every card, every sense of joy, every precision, every spirit, every meaning, spells itself out into the page, while leaving nothing left in real life, but the empty container of curious mind without social skills. As writers, they both trascend, as it’s in reading where you build the immaculate communion of two minds, and evolve into the possibilities of creating yet another story, yet another tale, yet another creative outburst.

Van Dyke según Panofsky

You can write about anything. Stories, however, represent a different kind of writting. Everyone writes in their own terms. Art too can be narrated. Text lives beyond literature, and it may be printed on any given matter, in any given surface, for any given purpose.

Ernst Gombrich, Art historian

The Story of Art. Gombrich has influence the narrative of art. Up to the point in which the character of Moo Pak understood that these four characters were bound to be mentioned in a stream of thought, at any given time, to transfer a profound reference to something condensed in tiny hint. Context provides the first field of action. If you are outside of it, the sense of it slips by. And you go on. And so does the inintial intention of that given thought. So going back to capture them, is a matter of being able to rewind time. To back up. To read again. To read. For the first time. An author you don’t know, but now have a purpose to pursue.

ALLS

Publicado el

Monday… once again

It’s a wheel turning. A day in, a day out. And what for? That’s the real issue. The focus on something worth be-ing. And that is achieved in a long process of questioning yourself. Questioning the learnings in your education, in the system, in society. And still, there is no right answer.

Things are tough. And we are dealing with stuff in our very own personal circumstances. The things within our heads. The voices that speak just to us. And the deamons.

But somehow, the struggle within is just a one man show. Or an insider’s job. There is something of us in every conspiracy. And the opposite two. The white angel and the red devil that inhabit our elbows. The duality starts right there. And you are stuck in the middle.

There is no clear alternative but to go on. And find the inspiration in every step along the way. Every step with the confidence that it is taking you places. Places you need to attend to. To show up. And deliver a good version of yourself. Maybe so by inspiring trust. Or building it. Or recovering it. It’s still a massive effort to get out and do your thing. Unless you’re in the zone. But that takes work. And time. And effort.

I’m close to that feeling. The zone is close by. And I’m ready to make that final sprint.

Or this initial drive.

Let’s start the week with this first step: Monday.

ALLS

Publicado el

Ain’t no script for you in Hollywood

Denial letters will keep you going

When am you going to write a script? You think all the script you’ll get for you are going to be as good as «Boys N the Hood»? Hollywood ain’t got no scripts for you. Unless you wanna do bullshit. You can write songs like you write, you can write a movie.

John Singleton to Ice Cube

Representation will not come to you just as mainstream drive. You need to present a case for yourself. You got to do that part of the job. It’s not going to happen just because you think it would be fair. You need to make it happen. You.

The singularity of everyone’s perspective is determined by the uniqueness of our experience, from our very own little point of view. We are the active actors of the development of our vision. And no one else is going to pave the way for you.

I know this shit from way back when. And I’ve never come out myself. I’ve held on to something else. A lame excuse that holds to my very own insecurities to avoid the stepping into the abyss drill. And I’m pretty sure this shit ain’t working, because no one has taken that step for me. As only I can.

As only I should.

Damn, it’s a hard shit.

I feel for the feeling of the underrepresented. Their voices haven’t been heard. They don’t get the chance mainstream stories are depicting. But who’s to change that. The scriptwriters write about what know. About what works. About their own little formulas. The establishement works like that because that how it got established. Something else is up for the up and coming voice within you. And if you are searching for recognition, maybe you should try searching within to find your truth, your soul, your arguments. And from there on, built the narrative that represent the stories you wish you had. The truth you would like to see on the screen. And then you have the type of shit that would look in the character you are playing, in the scenes that you are directing, or in the films you are producing.

Open the door. Assume the responsibilities. Act upon them. Write your own shit. Walk your own talk. Stop complaining to the world, and start showing up with your own voice.

Start with the first.

Start today.

ALLS

Publicado el

The art of being yourself

The art hunts me. I’m just a medium. It goes through me. Don’t know where. Don’t know why. But it keeps comming back. It’s a thing that gets caught in the mist of my attention. And I pull in. To see. To wonder. And it pops up, as I’m now conscious of its existance and my particular reaction. Why? Why now? Who are you? What is this?

This sort of ordea never stops, but rather you start to embrace the beauty of living with these exceptional oportunities to wonder. To wonder off. To go outside the dotted line. As there is no longer need to follow the heard. I’ve been alienated. I’m an alien.

It’s here. They are here. I am here. I’m the proof of concept. Beyond myself. Beyond the particularities of my own coordinates. My specific circumstances. How does that make me feel? How does that make you feel? There is something out there I don’t control. You, for example.

Yet my art the becomes the medium of my experience. The structure of my acnowledgment. The intention of my provocative snap. The magicians trick. The hat. The set up. The illusion. It’s there. You see.

I told you I had no say in this.

It just poped out.

And somehow it got caught.

Here.

#NAW

In your head.

ALLS

Publicado el

El nouvingut torracollons

No tots adoptem el mot que ens encanta.

Jo he apres a viure amb més de nou contradiccions.

I tant content.

I tant.

No se com dir-ho. Vull dir: no ser com explicar-ho.

És això que no ha passat mai pel teu cap.

No sé cóm dir-t’ho.

No ho entendries.

Mai, mai, mai, ho has vist.

Al teu cervell aquestes neurones mai no ha estat encesses.

Encessos.

Nova companya d’energia circular.

Del Tico Commons.

Es tracta d’un tema d’autor.

Jo ho he pensat així.

I a més a més ho escrit en forma de novela.

I de compte.

Curt.

Llarg.

Mega curt.

Mega llarg.

Sense sentit.

Amb traducció.

Amb il·lustracions.

Desglosat.

Simplificat.

Resumit.

En twits.

En valls.

En balls.

Sense bastons.

Només enxenetes.

Aixequem la primera columna de nou.

Amb folra.

I collons.

Com pit en tenia en Tito.

Va per tu!

ALLS

Publicado el

Election population

The target of my desire

I’m an evangelist of change. I’ve been all in for something else for quite some time. I’m not alone. There are many of us selling this product. In fact, in every campaign, this seems to be big slogan: change.

I was part of a candidacy for the student council in my junior year. The name of our campaign: change. We lost.

It was another era. It was when grunge ruled the world. Back in 1994. You know, Nirvana, Stone Temple Pilots, Pearl Jam, Cramberries, and all of that. My hair was properly long, and so was the hair of two other of my student party. Perfect parity: two girls, two boys. Female leadership. We had a good mix. We just couldn’t compete to four surrealist grunge smart dudes with a sense of humour.

We miserably failed. The grunge high school got what they were looking for: some good old giggles. And something more than just your usual honor role students make-belief. That’s what we were. The good kids vs the bad free-spirited grunge band. Of course we were meant to fail.

I think I might have voted for them. I don’t recall having much of thought in being part of that campaign. I guess I too ignited the bla bla bla on «change». But not enough soul went into that. I didn’t give it my best. We didn’t ignite any passion. There were no giggles in our speeches. We were just plain and dull Lisa Simpson wannabes.

And don’t get me wrong. Lisa Simpson would have made a much better job. She’d raised some issues. Our school had no issues. It was a vanilla high school with proper teachers and a fairly priviledge bunch of families from Escazú, Santa Anna and Rohmoser. I started being the outlier from Pavas when I first got there. I was living at my grandparents house. I was the good old days.

I was no Kurt Kobain back then. I might have looked it, but I hadn’t grabbed an instrument in years. Let alone show some interest for the lyrics in any of those bands who were so in. My mind was somewhere else, around the spin of free kick around the wall, or letting go of basketball because I didn’t make the team. They were too tall and I didn’t pack my basketball sneakers in my suitcase from Karachi. I was just another poser with no real soul.

My readings back then were also quite limited. I’d read what they’d feed me in literature classes that put enough emphasis in having enough lectures from enough sources to grow a conscience of the existance of thought in written form. Yet I couldn’t read through an entire book. My adoption of reading for pleasure had not kicked in yet. I barely knew what I was doing. I was just going with the flow. And life wasn’t really bad. In fact, it was fucking awesome.

I’ve never scaped the essense of feeling out of place, yet priviledge. Those two elements mark trully who I am. I can never feel confortable in the role of trying to tell others what to do. I’m not that kind of leader. I’m just a team player. That I’ve learned in many different ways. By then, I could use my social skills to bond with the people that I wanted to bond with. And I could still make us of my athletic capacities to bond around team sports to pursue the ride of game play. It’s a fun way of learning. That always beats the other way. Yet the other way kept being interersing and exciting for me, so I didn’t fall back into disliking putting enough effort into actually understanding the complexity elements in every mathmatics, science, literature or language classes.

That election where I was part of the «Change» campaign I felt out of place. I also felt like I was exposing myself. In ways I didn’t fully understand. I was thankful to have been selected as part of the team, and I am sure we had s decent programme. We were «A students», ifyouknowaraimin. But there was probably a lack of soul in that effort. A reason to be there, but not enough juice. We didn’t have the juice.

Every time we are under an election period I think of that «change» campaign. So predictable. So vanilla. So nerdy and dull. I didn’t have it me. I didn’t play the game. I stayed within the safe boundaries. I didn’t actually came out of the closet. I was afraid. And I guess, I still am.

I know now that I can share, not without some anguish, that this who I am. That 14 year-old dude, with a sense of pura vida and an impostor syndrome continuosly poping up in a window I can’t seem to be able to close.

Patrick, Will, Yu Chen and William. This last William was the funny guy. A sort of Baudelaire in Escazú. I witty dude with proper grunge and literary taste. The kind of dude that would come to nail it in the arts, or as an author. A kind of Jim Morrison of our time. Will was way out there in the art skills and complex audacity. Patrick was in sinc with all of them. And Yu Chen was true outlier rebelling against all type of stereotypes.

Amy, Marcela, Alex and myself, Golman. Three straigh A students and I guess I was a sort of A- sportsy guy. We were all good kids. Nobody expected trouble comming from us. Except for me, I guess. It was me who had to spice up the ideal of «change». And I just didn’t show up. I stayed in the sidelines. I didn’t play the game. I didn’t write a line. I just sat there and stared.

I clearly need to get this out of my organism. This has affected dearly my political life ever since. Since then, my political participation has been as an observer. And I’ve always felt out of place. I don’t belong. I still grunge, somewhere inside, and I understand that to win a campaign you need to seduce. You need to come up with a plan. You need to understand the context, and the circumstances, and the way to act upon it with a plan. I’ve learned and used strategic planning in my work-life. I’ve used to improve myself. And to deliver a skill set that could actually enable change. And it turns out, now I’m ready.

I like political campaings because it’s the only time where there is just a whole bunch of regular people seeking for your vote. To do what? That’s the whole thing. That’s the big deal. We are still missing on the trully persuasive case for a radical social change. A transformative one. If I was to become an active actor in a campaign, I couldn’t bare to do the same thing I did back in high school: pretend to be. And it would all I could ever do.

You see, in my adult life I’ve also made that red pill image of myself. Or was it blue pill? In any case, I still think that my Flanders side would kick in and I would try to do the righteous thing. I would still be that same lame candidate. Unless I face my own private nemesis and become the outlier candidate, I will keep on living in this lame old status quo, I’m so ready to depart from.

It’s election time in Spain. I’m here again. Exploring within.

«Change» is needed.

I’m the evangelist of change.

Vote Golman.

#golmanpresidente

NEW | NAW | ALLS

Inspired by the grunch campaing in CDS 1994 Student Council Election, Escazú.

Tico Commons | NEW spain | NEW barcino

Publicado el

Desapareció la montaña

El día D

Nunca más.

El tiempo volvió.

ALLS

Se trata de una caja WordPress: una metaestructura elemental para explicarte bien, de manera inclusiva, y con la vocación de universalidad el acceso. Porque formamos parte de una agencia pública. Y cómo tal nos entendemos herramientas de una transformación. 99 feedbackloopers. ALLS. Los voy a reclutar en 9 dimensiones diferentes. Combinaciones de 9 en 99. Por hacerlo combinatorio. Y no lineal. Este es mi matiz. Esta es mi campaña. Metastructuras regresionales hacia un pasado alternativo loopeado. Lupe. Lupita. La virgen de Guadalupa. Ma. Ito. ALLS. . . . . . . . .

En 33 minutos del día D, se rinde tributo a Jesús. A partir de la reversión del tiempo y los espacios temporales, el día de hoy, el de la vuelta se contraponen, para cada uno, cada cual, y sin que esto sirva de referencia, casi pa ná.

El gesto de volver es terriblemente transformador.

Nos exige volver.

Y volver lo podemos hacer todes.

Y todos.

Y todas.

Y ahí nos encontramos todos.

En un pasado inclusivo.

Que de no existir, ahora lo bordamos.

Lo perfeccionamos.

A partir de la aceptación de lo que fuimos.

De lo que hemos vivido.

De lo que se ha dicho.

De la historia.

De la intrahistoria.

De lo que sí.

De lo que no.

De lo que cómo chingaos no.

Basta.

Basta.

Basta.

Detente.

Por ahí no vayas.

No tiene sentido.

No sigas así.

Tienes otra gran opción.

Darle el voto a la resiliencia colectiva.

Que nace en paralelo.

En otra dimensión.

En un futuro próximo.

Unas cuantas iteraciones por delante.

Por una gracia fundacional.

Por un efecto exponencial.

De los creadores de sumar, a dividir, a restar, a multiplicar… nace: potenciar.

Soc el nou d’un poble nou.

Un poble digne.

Robust.

Pletòric.

Sense por a esser.

Sóm un altre poble.

El poble d’altres.

El poble nou: Ticataluña.

Sóc la capital del mediterrani.

Un sol l’ús de la intenció.

Sóc l’efimer vot de tot el mon.

Respecte al que diem que sóm.

Sóm un gest que creu en Déu.

Un Déu que ho habita tot.

I ha baixat avui aquí.

A fer-nos anar enrere.

Perque devant tenim camí.

I ara aquí el que ens cal és procomú.

I d’allò que es diu NEW.

Això que naltros diem NOU.

I que ara fem així: 9.

Sóc el 9 d’un equip de feedbackloopers.

L’efecte d’un tir amb giribilla.

Soc la rotació de la terra en direcció contraria.

L’esforç d’un reigne per renaixer.

Sóc l’intent de pau que que vols que hi-sigui.

Sóc la veu d’un candidat que no es presenta.

La noció complerta d’una il·lusió present.

La concreció d’un pla de nou.

Un gir del texte.

Un cop de mà.

Un cop d’efecte.

Un impacte de cop.

De cop i volta.

I volta enrere.

I vota.

Voti i voti.

Vot.

Vet aqui.

Jo soc aquí.

Ja soc aquí.

Golman NEW president.

Golman NEW king.

Golman NEW candidat.

Golman NEW.

NEW.

Golman.

ALLS

feedbacklooper 9