Beginning a shooting has its good and bad things, like everything in life. Some you don't even know if they're good or bad, because shootings are great enterprises. Looks like I'm finally going to shoot. "Hable con ella" (Talk to Her), yes. It's not that I've been lying these last four months saying I was to begin with "La Mala Educacion" (The Miseducation). After a four-month fruitless search for a protagonist I decided to do something else. And the screenplay for "Hable con ella" was already written. I do have the actors, I've contacted them, but I don't want to say anything 'till they sign.

The shooting is scheduled for June 11th. Right now I'm deep in its preparation, a process that worries me because I have the feeling it's useless.

Being less than two months away from the shooting is like having entered an enclosure you can't leave in the next six months. Physical and mental enclosure. The advantage is that I'm definitely not going to come against "Big Brother" nor anyone trying to sell it, because you don't turn the TV on nor zap channels no more.

Lonely people feel much lonelier since that program and its multiple references came to life on the same channel. Euthanasia should be legal in the countries where B.B. is broadcasted.

Ok, ok, I live in a different world, alienated and with a minimum capacity of concentration for anything that's not related to the next shooting. I can't read, neither can I understand what I read, no matter how simple it is; but miracles do happen sometimes; times when I'm hooked on a book right from its first page; times when I feel, vibrate; times when I can't stop reading. That is the case of "The Hours" by Michael Cunningham. I'm about to read it again, and this time I'll do it on my knees, as a sign of my devotion. If you like Virginia Wolf you have to find it fast. Virginia is something else than just one of the characters in this novel. Looks like she's being whispering in his (the author's) ear tons of secrets about herself and the sublime act of writing. Together with Coetzee's "Disgrace" it's my favorite book of the decade. Many are the topics Cunningham masters in his work about three women, three ages. Current and eternal subjects he approaches with a precise and clear style and an actually contemporary point of view. Great Literature. Oh! And it won the Pulitzer Prize in 1999 -and I think it has its film project already. I don't know if I should be glad for this. When books are as good as "The Hours" the film producers should better leave them alone.

Despite my stunned mental condition, there is one other book that has moved lately -which is like turning coal into beating flesh. That book is "Interpreter of Maladies" by Jhumpa Lahiri. Judging by the back-cover photograph, she's a beautiful blend of Sade and Milla Jovovich. Oh! This one also won the Pulitzer in its next edition. But Gods knows well that's not my reason for recommending it. Like the characters in her stories, the author's parents were born in India; but they are castellano-manchegos to me. In spite of what I've said about "The Hours" this is the type of literature I'd like to base a film on. I mean, I'd love to be capable of writing stories like the ones contained in that jewel called "Interpreter of Maladies." Subtle and simple stories on pages sown with unexpected feelings like a minefield.

My favorite record this spring is Estrella Morente's, "Mi cante y un poema". I went to the concert she gave at the Teatro Lara for the presentation. Tremendous. Except for Diego Manrique, everyone there felt like having just witnessed the birth of an enormous cantaora. All cliches are true with Estrella. She's a knockout; she moves, sits down, lays her arms, opens her hands and even the flower in her hair leans perfectly on her neck. You name it, she sings it; she masters even the most difficult styles, those demanding professional and life experiences. Original in its antiqueness, her father has produced her delicious record where there's just one song missing: the cover of "Madrina" she interpreted at the party, where she fought every bull with her shawl. People wouldn't believe what such a serious cantaora is capable of doing when she parties...

And speaking about ramas benditas que al tronco salen, I also have to mention Cachaito (Cachao's son, nephew or grandson) and his homonymous record produced by World Circuit. "Cachaito" is Cuban dub full of atmosphere, perfect for tidying the house and have time fly.

"Music Typewriter" is Moreno Veloso's first record, the son of his delicious father, Caetano. His voice takes after his father's, whom he understands perfectly (musically speaking). But apart from its tropical roots, the record has multiple influences. Brazilian pop, trip samba… you like it better the third time, and if you know Moreno, you are caught on the first hearing.

I met Bebel three years ago at Caetano's, and her aspect reminded me immediately of a sort of Brazilian Betty Midler. I bet she's a good comedian, but Bebel Gilberto was already preparing a record with the burden of being Joao Gilberto's daughter (whose voice was defined by Caetano as the best thing one can hear, apart from silence). Bebel lives in New York and London, and she has good friends in Japan. Her album "Tanto tiempo" is a record of new bossa nova, where all Bebel's spaces are represented. Her voice can't be more Brazilian, and her songs ooze charm. One must appreciate the fact that despite being the daughter of Joao Gilberto and Miucia (the best Jobim interpreter), Chico Buarque's niece and Carlinhos Brown's cousin or sister in law, hers is an original record stuck to its roots -there was no need to appeal to a modern Jobim version. People love her in New York and in France she's more than a cult singer. Hers is a long-career record. She will visit Madrid in June.