So am writing profusely in English. Don’t ask why. It just happens. I think I started picking up on my writing because of Hemingway. Or the movie at least. The one with that chick, Nicole Kidman. Though I’ve read a number of stories of Hemingway I can’t say that I have read all of them. I am a Hemingway reader, make no mistake about it. But he is like a lollipop. Though am sure he wouldn’t approve of the metaphor. I’m trying to get in the game. Listening to stuff to get me out of my rut. Which is not writing. That rut. So why English? I suppose it’s easier than having to confront my shortcomings in Spanish. I really hate writing in Spanish though not that much. But it does rile me that Spanish has more vocabulary I wish I knew how to use as compared to my English which seems to be a deep well of knowledge that I can just stick my hand in it no matter how deep the well is and still be able to enrich my writing with beautiful words.
Spanish always leaves me feeling alien. Every time I come across a good book in Spanish written by Spaniards I am left flabbergasted at the richness of the language I supposedly call mine. Now, by good book I mean books by people who painstakingly work with the language in a manner that they select carefully by second hand their own choice of words. Usually the lot is one who is academically oriented such a Pérez-Reverte or my favorite Isabel Vicente. Their use of language makes them inherently mysterious because their use of language leaves a certain flavor in the mouth that I haven’t come across in a so-called iberoamericano.
Which begs the question. Are we too bereft of the richness of Castilian that we stand oceans apart? The answer is quite intricate in many fashions. For one, Iberian American Spanish has to contend with the fact its language is not wholly Spanish or Castilian nor surrounded by its latinate variations to feed of its latin nutrients. There are many other linguas which affect iberoamericano languages of which Spanish is but one, although be it the main funnel by where the indigenous languages must traverse in order to make sense in the world of the Spanish. Alas! yes, indigenous language are subjugated even to this day to the Spanish whore.
Be that as it may, both sorts of Spanish are different in different ways.
I guess I still feel short changed when it comes to Spanish. I rue the motherfucking tongue that gives me its milk & honey because its tit is not mine. Its not mine yet.