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THE TRAMP (Bohemian cabaret)


The curtain rose every night,
and you had to hide your pain,
to time with the orchestra, your singers,
that alien and ignorant public
scherzo bitter that you
eats inside ... Old

troubadour, wandering
scene with
bundle of dreams yet to fulfill,
chase dreams every night
the flower looks like sunlight,
beyond the footlights.

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(c) Isidro R. Ayestarán, 2010
fotografía: Patricia Gómez de la Casa
extraída de BOHEMIAN CABARET

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Afternoon rain and cold weather
wet earth and the morning dew
Today, and finally ended all
And I'm here among the trees and mud
where I met you I wait for 1 year
I come back and I
injury left me I would not hesitate to have forgotten
That I live your dream, back in Colorado
I wait here in the cold and the pain I wait
where together we killed love.

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ON STAGE! (Subject text)

¡¡Toc, toc!! ¡¡Colombina... a escena!! Mira que el público ya va llegando al teatro y se mantiene a la espera de que se suba el telón... ¡¡Toc, toc!! ¡¡Señor director de orquesta!! Espero que todo esté bien afinado y que su batuta baile certera esta noche... ¡¡Toc, toc!! ¡¡Señores comparsas!! ¿Ensayaron la mímica de sus movimientos? ¿Están situados sobre su señal?... ¡¡Silencio!! Light bulbs! Public Light! The magic of the scene !!... The curtain rises!

The scene shows a seaport. Colombina appears swiftly toward the railing of the pier, where he called out loudly to his mistress part in a boat far, far away ... It is a sad love story. The background is Harlequin, sad because he loves her in secret, and little by little, though she does not look at it, is coming ... and hugs. And from his lips, leaving only a name that says it all:
- "Columbine" ...
and caresses ...

What else given that the words of an actor appearing in a fictional script.
He makes them his own but you bleed, but are a reflection of its history,
the echo of his own life.
Night after night, performance after performance ...
once the curtain rises.

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(c) Isidro R. Ayestarán
MMXI Photography: Leonor Garcia Well
BOHEMIAN extracted CABARET

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THE BOHEMIAN TRAVESTI OF CABARET (heels at night)

The sound of her heels heralded his arrival, and out with platforms, design or bought shoes for ten euros to attend a party in the Butt Queens petarda the street from Sun
Her dress, made for the occasion, her makeup to conceal his identity, his wig, to misrepresent your profile.
" I am a woman," he kept saying to the mirror every morning. " I'm one of them. I belong to the world despite the lies they told me from that other world where I live and I feel prisoner."
The first step was admitting it to your partner to whisper shy.
" I want you, you're a man. If you love me, accept me as a woman despite the lies of my anatomy " ...
The rejection was instantaneous while the groove showed hot tears.
A broken mirror, shattered.
" I lied by saying that I am not what you reflex."
Confusion, deception ... Other arms, other views, other beds ... Until someone finally stopped, listened and smiled.
" is true. You are a woman. Your sensitivity to the world has become obvious for some time ... ."
And that night, wearing his new identity, he fell through the streets of the city, before the eyes of those people who think that Spain will destroy these new laws.
" Can not hear the sound of my heels on the night of your thoughts? Can not you see I am a woman ... and I must respect? ."

was born so, damage of life,
and everybody talks about me,
if I am male or female,
had to live like
learned to live well ...

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(c) Isidro R. Ayestarán, 2009-2011
Photography: Patricia Gomez of the House
made during the show CABARET BOHEMIAN
Rvbicon (Santander) - April 6, 2011

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The Final Cut

Artist: Pink Floyd Music
: The Final Cut, a Requiem for the Postwar Dream (written by Roger Waters)
Address: Roger Waters
Production: Barry Matthews
Director: Willie Christie
Year: 1983

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BLANKETS doodles (version Bohemian Cabaret)


drumbeats scented war of words,
stupid suit and tie combination
with the absurdity of ideals have come down
in a chamber prostituted by
a repoker of Madame .

Right is gloomy blue left
slut is red and the center
, uncomfortable, is not
posture in his chair.

The applause of some,
the kicking of the long,
the circus that unfolds its
multiple tracks to the delight of the dreamers
of numerous broken promises.

And is that politics do not know
menu of the day, the price of coffee
tomatoes, squid for them
onions, or whether there may be
ladies who buy a panty
Cadena Cien.

The political figure in the Espasa,
the worker in the unemployment line,
poets recited over boxes of fruit,
cry for sms lovers
mare ever,

retirees feed pigeons in parks,
housewives become as crazy
to devise new recipes ...
and those who work in supermarkets ...

Oh you turn round world about yourself!
world Oh dark, gloomy and computerized!
world Oh, you cum taste
agreed with those polls favor you!
world Oh, do not recognize you
but neither has given birth to you!

world Oh, you give us in plastic cups
a bunch of representatives
fight for our future!

world Oh, let the canary feed
of my meager salary and smoke my cigarettes
this whole bunch of ...
mess!!

(c) Isidro R. Ayestarán, 2008-2011
BOHEMIAN CABARET
Release April 6

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Into tears

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Bette: And then he burst into tears, and then he fainted. The work of art was so beautiful and moving, he couldn't withstand the impact. The "Stendhal Syndrome".
Peggy: "My head thrown back, I let my gaze dwell on the ceiling. I underwent the profoundest experience of ecstacy I had ever encountered."

EXT. - QUIET STREET - NIGHT
[Jenny walks on the sidewalk, alone.]
Peggy: (voice over) "I had obtained... that supreme degree of sensibility where the divine intimations of art... merge with the impassioned sensuality ... of emotion. "

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