Tocam a repique os sinos da minha cozinha, tambores berecíncios, guarnições ausónias, temos fome!

Cão

Cão passageiro, cão estrito,
cão rasteiro cor de luva amarela,
apara-lápis, fraldiqueiro,
cão liquefeito, cão estafado,
cão de gravata pendente,
cão de orelhas engomadas,
de remexido rabo ausente,
cão ululante, cão coruscante,
cão magro, tétrico, maldito,
a desfazer-se num ganido,
a refazer-se num latido,
cão disparado: cão aqui,
cão além, e sempre cão.
Cão marrado, preso a um fio de cheiro,
cão a esburgar o osso
essencial do dia a dia,
cão estouvado de alegria,
cão formal da poesia,
cão-soneto de ão-ão bem martelado,
cão moído de pancada
e condoído do dono,
cão: esfera do sono,
cão de pura invenção, cão pré-fabricado,
cão-espelho, cão-cinzeiro, cão-botija,
cão de olhos que afligem,
cão-problema...

Sai depressa, ó cão, deste poema!

- Alexandre O'Neill

O Poeta em Lisboa

Quatro horas da tarde.
O poeta sai de casa com uma aranha nos cabelos.
Tem febre. Arde.
E a falta de cigarros faz-lhe os olhos mais belos.

Segue por esta, por aquela rua
sem pressa de chegar seja onde for.
Pára. Continua.
E olha a multidão, suavemente, com horror.

Entra no café.
Abre um livro fantástico, impossível.
Mas não lê.
Trabalha — numa música secreta, inaudível.

Pede um cigarro. fuma.
Labaredas loucas saem-lhe da garganta.
Da bruma
espreita-o uma mulher nua, branca, branca.

Fuma mais. Outra vez.
E atira um braço decepado para a mesa.
Não pensa no fim do mês.
A noite é a sua única certeza.

Sai de novo para o mundo.
Fechada à chave a humanidade janta.
Livre, vagabundo
dói-lhe um sorriso nos lábios. Canta.

Sonâmbulo, magnífico
segue de esquina em esquina com um fantasma ao lado.
Um luar terrífico
vela o seu passo transtornado.

Seis da madrugada.
A luz do dia tenta apunhalá-lo de surpresa.
Defende-se à dentada
da vida proletária, aristocrática, burguesa.

Febre alta, violenta
e dois olhos terríveis, extraordinários, belos.
Fiel, atenta
a aranha leva-o para a cama arrastado pelos cabelos.

- António José Forte

and she will be looking, there
for daily passion and someday maybe
some miracle,
and i'm gonna be looking here
for the opposite, daily miracles
and the unexpected passion
'k?

18. Between lands

And now
in silence
after the tower
i will carry the marks
branded
carved
from carbon eyes
with yours
knowing
forever
we sing


19. Home

tänään
minä olen suomalainen
hiljainen
rakastava
tuulessa
tänään
tänään
aina
hiljaa.



20. Everywhere


And back again


the sun came up on your golden face
your voice was loss
the wind blew mild
and took me on

you were staying
and we'd be still in the woods
like kids

and back again

but a dream within a dream

1.Saudade

The Portuguese word "saudade", loosely translated,denotes "longing", "melancholy", or "nostalgia." In the context of Portuguese, however, the term connotes a meaning that is irrevocably lost in translation. In his book In Portugal of 1912, A.F.G Bell makes a few disquisitional remarks on the meaning of "saudade" given its intended context:

"The famous saudade of the Portuguese is a vague and constant desire for something that does not and probably cannot exist, for something other than the present, a turning towards the past or towards the future; not an active discontent or poignant sadness but an indolent dreaming wistfulness."


2. LIS, 18.02.05

An airport is a harbour of the soul
Wards hold hearts like apples in time
A nursing takes place
Where the cradled child shines

We try not to think
of hospital beds
Lest life, saddened, forget
Our daily toil to reward it.


3. LIS, 18.02.05

Will you show me the ice
I said
the skin of reindeer
I said
the drum that sings your people
to peace
will there be laughter
and women and cups
I said
Thank you,
for a part of my healing.



4. AMS, 18.02.05

the rain outside these walls
might help our little farm
endure one
soft
day

night ere day ere smiles
cans, pup, equal hearts alive
thirty or less

five
ten beats
trust a small planet to kindle kindred eyes



5. HKI, 19.02.05

Respect

made in islands of the heart
to cross the roads,
self reflection

lakes and plains, skipped beats
the geography of your homeland
mirrors a greatness of the soul

and aside
solemn
my respectful stare?



6. HKI, 19.02.05

Lumi

not expressionless
i know
there you are,
like snowy roads
like the soft mounds
your faces are the sum
of all emotions.



7. HKI, 19.02.05

Rock it baby

Hoo blonde blonde!
Bar!
Hee-haa!
Printing complete,
hah!
get down here and have some wine,
or we're gonna have to find some

brunettes



8. 20.02.05 early dawn

"yesterday i met one of the most faithful and self-aware faces, her eyes so silent and yet love, here, can be said - i do not dare to show it for her name is light that burns the ailing traveller - in fifteen different ways. and then she turned, walking away, leaving my certainties frozen to the shaking ground. never have i tasted such form of passion."



9. HKI, 20.02.05

Tuuli

how lonely and aching
those lakes like turf
your perfect moon
your crying hands

sending maybe for help,
a winter garden of hope
my endless fire
my crystal faith

it stopped
did we make that happen?
did the stars blow in
the wind, for a while
as we kissed
the old man's riddle?



sinulle
(hiljaisuus)





10. HKI, 20.02.05

Liha

How my newfound brother
had me drunk
immersed in wild berries
then
from the hands of a tall
blonde
silent woman
sprang reindeer, some
but
not any specific one.




11. Midnight, somewhen

it was then that we
pierced with flames
for a moment could see
the true reason for names

and arms, coupled, broke fear




12. Puurijärvi, 21.02.05

tiny tracks on snow
and steep, enchanted pathways
how much my heart can ache
for knowing we must part.



13. Forssa, 21.02.05

kebab at araz

strange thing
i am not
by any standards
voracious
sheer joy to see
you
eating your choice
in all this light
this blinding light
where dark men came
to find themselves




14. Huittinen, 21.02.05

Tea Time

or how i met the image of harmony, simplicity and honesty, on two frail hands that signed a book, your mirror in the hall saying that our so much different hair and eyes were but separate instants in time, your gift an island of warmth.




15. Penttilänniemi, 21.02.05

Shapes

a vertical tale
for the perfect class
present in every move
you make
in every line
you create
not cold here
it lies outside
driven by your spark.



16. Huittinen, 22.02.05

Two stones

Erect as houses
straight
in the ruthless chill
firm
together
complete as halls
there i learned from you
how to drop words
forever




17. Vantaa, 22.02.05

Ulos

one beginning, south
and pine, and wind, and skin
one beginning, north
and love, and life, and voice
one of three, between
and trust, and tears and hands
on fragile space

Old timeless friend
they will grow in a small world
unlike you and I
where we blossomed, the limit
was the tallest tree
one sunset
or even nightfall
not for them
who will carry our blessings
and the weight of our hope
on their arms.

LIS, G16

-> nxa.

Giggle

Cute
On election eve
the bare lives
merry
darkened fingertips
clutching democracy
on the smile of an actor

LIS, 18.02.05

Uusia Kuvia, #1-3

Não posso pôr todas...

E que mais? Chego de um país onde as pessoas:

sao pagas para ficar em casa com os filhos
sao supridas de tudo quanto eh saude, educacao, etc
se sentem SERVIDAS pelo estado
podem dedicar-se a artes e trabalhos paralelos sem prejuizo do seu tempo livre e rendimentos
cumprimentam na rua e recebem em sua casa cada outra pessoa como se de um potencial irmao se tratasse

e aqui,

o meu carro chumba na inspecção, um carro ainda novo, perfeito, revisto, porque

os autocolantes "bebé a bordo" sao proibidos (nao regulamentares!)
a luzinha de dentro do botao dos 4piscas nao acende, atencao, a luz do botao em si!
a pála do pendura tem o fixador solto

e

os autocolantes sao uma "reincidencia" porque ja vinham referidos na folha de ha dois anos...

Alguem me explica porque é que a pequenez nao tem limites?

Vivi uma semana onde as pessoas só falam do que é importante, e onde a "nossa" vidinha aqui, na loucura casa-trabalho-obrigações, parece coisa de filme tailandês. É tão triste regressar e ver que as pessoas votaram, uma vez mais, em vez de terem feito algo para mudar este nojo de existência que nos condena a gastar anos em nada.

Já cá estou. É ao mesmo tempo uma sensação de clausura, perda, e carinho. E claro, o que está, está...

A parte textual ha-de sair toda junta.

Para já, tenho aprendo mais respeito, ainda mais empatia, a certeza de haver povos que como um tod andam pelas ruas como se encontrassem consigo proprios todos os dias, a cada porta de loja que se abre.

Kauppa Hallis, uma coisa a nao perder. E vinho da Tunisia com este pao.



Suomenlinna.

É sempre difícil partir, ainda que seja, à partida ;) para voltar. Possivelmente a próxima coisa que escrever será a lápis sobre moleskine, de mochila às costas, cantil de aguardente em riste. Não há limites para onde um homem o pode ser. Não há pedra que fique por virar quando se bebe da vida como se cada segundo fosse o primeiro.

Não há precendetes. Perdão, precedentes.

Não há sequelas.

Até já.

Sideways, a não perder.

L. Ron Hubbard

Não podia ir voar sem deixar aqui um cromo dos mais difíceis. Observai e tentai não cair em desespero pela Humanidade. Sort of.



Lafayette Ronald Hubbard (March 13, 1911–January 24, 1986), better known as L. Ron Hubbard, was a prolific and controversial American writer and the founder of the Church of Scientology. In addition to religious works, he authored fiction in many genres, educational and management texts, essays and poetry.

A controversial chapter in Hubbard's early life revolves around his association with Jack Parsons, a rocket propulsion researcher at Caltech and associate of the British occultist Aleister Crowley. It is alleged that during this period Hubbard and Parsons were engaged in the practice of ritual magick. A notable point of Hubbard and Parsons' collaboration was the Babalon Working, an extended set of sex magic rituals intended to summon a goddess.

In mid-1952, Hubbard expanded Dianetics into a secular philosophy which he called Scientology. The following December, he declared it to be a religion and founded the first Church of Scientology in Camden, New Jersey. He moved to England at about the same time and during the remainder of the 1950s he masterminded the worldwide development of Scientology from an office in London. In 1959, he bought Saint Hill Manor near the Sussex town of East Grinstead, a Georgian manor house formerly owned by the Maharajah of Jaipur. This became the worldwide headquarters of Scientology.

Hubbard convinced his supporters that he could give them access to their past lives, the traumas of which he said led to failures in the present unless they were audited, a process that proved very lucrative for his church, which paid emoluments directly to himself and his family. He claimed that a clear, like himself, would not suffer disease; his closest personal associates and doctors report that he went to great lengths to have evidence of his recourse to modern medicine suppressed, attributing the symptoms of disease to attacks by malicious forces.

Scientology became controversial across the English-speaking world during the mid-1960s, with Britain, New Zealand, South Africa, the Australian state of Victoria and the Canadian province of Ontario all holding public inquiries (http://whyaretheydead.net/Cowen/audit/ofpapers.html) into Scientology's activities. In 1967, Hubbard left the controversy behind by appointing himself "Commodore" of a small fleet of Scientologist-crewed ships which spent the next eight years cruising the Mediterranean Sea.

Hubbard died in 1986, in an expensive Bluebird motorhome on his ranch. He had not been seen in public since 1981. Several issues surrounding Hubbard's death are subjects of controversy — a swift cremation with no autopsy, the destruction of coroner's photographs, coroner's evidence of the psychiatric drug Vistaril present in Hubbard's blood, the whereabouts of Dr. Eugene Denk (Hubbard's physician) during Hubbard's death, and the changing of wills and trust documents the day before his death. The Church of Scientology announced his death in 1986, stating Hubbard had deliberately "dropped his body" to do "higher level spiritual research," unencumbered by mortal confines.

Baby, baby why can’t you sit still?
Who killed that bird out on you window sill?
Are you the reason that he broke his back?
Did I see you laugh about that?
If I come on like a dream?
Would you let me show you what I mean?
If you let me come on inside?
Will you let it glide?

Can I have some remedy?
Remedy for me please.
Cause if I had some remedy
I’d take enough to please me.

Baby, baby why did you dye your hair?
Why you always keeping with your mother’s dare?
Baby why’s who’s who, who know you too?
Did the other children scold on you?
If I come on like a dream?
Would you let me show you what I mean?
If you let me come on inside?
Will you let it slide?

Dias de setenta e duas horas a arfar como um meteoro no cio entre golfadas de café quente e coelhos de peluche.

Bem sei que não tenho escrito. Torna-se complexo. E sexta-feira vou voar. Calma. Muita calma.

(para ti, C, depois da conversa de sexta-feira)

The lie of the contemporary world is not a lie in the subjective sense, in the sense of the sin of the subject, this lie is the expression of a profound degeneration of the structure of consciousness. From the world ever moreso disappears the personal conscience and all the less is heard its voice. But this does not mean, that in general conscience vanishes, it but alters its character. The collective consciousness has crystallised with such power and in such proportions, that it completely smothers within man the personal conscience. Man is forced into the lie in the name of this or some other understanding of the collective welfare. The lie to a remarkable degree is the manifestation of the social order. Man lies primarily to an other and to others. And even when man lies to himself, then he does this, having others in view both consciously and unconsciously. Man plays out a role before himself, so as then later to play out this role before others. The dictator is always a man inwardly an incorrigible liar, but this lying defines his role afront the world.

The social attitudes of people are filled not only by the evil lie, begotten of the will to power, but also by the innocent conditional lie. The innocent conditional lie can be the condition for the possibility of human living-together. Thus, for example, a man might be polite with another man, whom he despises to the bottom of his soul. The lie is wrought by evil, when there is the will towards domination and might, not personal only, but collective also, in what it cannot realise of itself. The will to power can be particular to an individual, but it always bears a social character.

The “super man” of Nietsche unfailingly must find himself in social acts. But these social acts unfailingly demand the lie. The will to power cannot be realised otherwise, than with the assist of the lie. Christ spoke with power, and in Him only was the pure truth. Caesar, the dictator, can find power only with the help of the lie. Without the lie can be realised only the feeling of freedom. Freedom is a principle, contrary to lie. And the authentic liberation of man is a liberation from the domination of the lie. The extent of the lie in the world defines itself by the manifestation of a centralising collective consciousness, sustaining the will to power. To this ought to be opposed the heroic struggle for the freedom of the spirit, i.e. for the truth, the unmasked lie. Not at all does this mean individualism.

Man is a communitarian being. The struggle cannot be directed against the creation of a new society, of a new communality of people. But truth always means, that spirit defines society, whereas the lie signifies, that society defines spirit. The new society cannot be created by diplomacy, i.e. by adaption to the condition of the world. The world is so full of the lie, the lie is so corrosive to the supreme human ideas, that by the unique powers of the world, by which everything is relativised, it is impossible to conquer the lie. Faith in the victory over the lie presupposes faith in the existence of a power exalted above the world, of the power of a Truth over the world, i.e. God.

Even if all the world be infected by the lie, then all the same there is the Truth, pure from every blemish of lie, and in the struggle against the lie we ought to unite with this Truth. The personal conscience defines our relationship to this utmost Power -- the Truth, but this is not only a conscience, isolated from other people, this is a conscience, pervaded by the sense of the spiritual brotherhood of people, a brotherhood in the Truth, and not in the lie.

- Nikolai Berdyaev

Cromo Colectivo #1

Todos os empresários, "protagonistas", barões, pulhas, crápulas, energúmenos, "homens de sucesso", degenerados, geriatro-pseudo-oligarcas, pústulas da sociedade que não existe.

Gente que nasceu no mesmo dia que eu

1400-1899

* 1442 - King Edward IV of England (d. 1483)
* 1758 - James Monroe, 5th President of the United States (d. 1831)
* 1810 - Daniel Ullmann, general (d. 1892)
* 1819 - Ezra Abbot, American bible scholar (d. 1884)
* 1874 - Karl Kraus, journalist and author (d. 1936)
* 1878 - Lionel Barrymore, actor (d. 1954)
* 1886 - Ğabdulla Tuqay, poet (d. 1913)
* 1889 - António de Oliveira Salazar, dictator of Portugal (d. 1970)
* 1896 - Charlie Rivel, clown (d. 1983)



1900-1999

* 1900 - Bruno Apitz, author (d. 1979)
* 1906 - Kurt Gödel, mathematician (d. 1978)
* 1908 - Oskar Schindler, businessman (d. 1974)
* 1923 - Horst-Eberhard Richter, psychoanalyst
* 1928 - Yves Klein, painter (d. 1962)
* 1928 - Eugene M. Shoemaker, planetary scientist (d. 1997)
* 1930 - James Baker, politician
* 1937 - Saddam Hussein, former leader of Iraq
* 1941 - Ann-Margret, actress
* 1948 - Terry Pratchett, author
* 1950 - Jay Leno, comedian
* 1958 - Hal Sutton, American golfer
* 1966 - John Daly, American golfer
* 1974 - Penélope Cruz, actress
* 1981 - Jessica Alba, actress
* 1977 - Michael Reichel, Telepath

Perco-lhes a conta...

(aux. Wikipedia)





François Duvalier known as "Papa Doc" (possibly April 14, 1907 - April 21, 1971) was the President of Haiti from 1957 and later dictator from 1964 until his death.

He worked to consolidate his rule; after surviving a coup in mid-1958, he purged the army. He then rewrote the constitution and then won the 1961 election: the official count was 1.32 million votes for Duvalier and none against. He established himself as president for life in 1964 and his rule assumed a more brutal and repressive character. Wary of the army, he created a militia in 1959, known as the VSN (Volontaires de la Sécurité Nationale) from 1962, to protect his power outside the capital. The VSN became better known as the Tonton Macoute (or Makout). Because they received no official salary, they had to make their living through crime and extortion. To protect his person, Duvalier used the Garde Présidentielle.



Jean-Claude Duvalier (nicknamed Bébé Doc or Baby Doc) (born July 3, 1951) was President of Haiti from 1971 to 1986.

Cromos continuados

Tipper Gore

Back in 1985 the P.M.R.C. (Parental Music Resource Center) was formed by a group of Washington wives led by Senator Al Gore's wife Tipper Gore, because she had overheard her daughter listening to the track Darling Nikki, from Prince's album Purple Rain. Outraged over the content of the lyrics, Tipper Gore formed the P.M.R.C. with a group of other Washington wives. This group came before a national Senate hearing demanding that the record industry monitor and using an outside source rating system, label each album for content such as Sex, the Occult, and Drug references. Three artists, Frank Zappa, Dee Snider of Twisted Sister, and John Denver testified on behalf of the artists stating that 1st amendment rights would be violated with this form of censorship. John Denver's song, Rocky Mountain High, was actually banned because it was determined by a third party that it made reference to drugs by using the word high in the lyrics. In honor of VH-1's new movie, Warning:Parental Advisory, below is the famous, Filthy Fifteen! These songs were on top of the P.M.R.C's hit list. Beside the track listing is the reason the song made the list. Though you may not always agree with the lyrics some artists write, you should always help protect everybody's 1st amendment rights, or somebody like the P.M.R.C. may end up telling you what you can & can't listen to.

PMRC, muhahhaha!!!

Caraças que era mesmo de legumes. E houve qq coisa que me caíu mal. De que filme era isto, "temos que deixar de nos encontrar assim".

Sim.

Jack (Knave) of Spades

Called “Hogier” on the French deck: origin is uncertain, but perhaps after Ogier the Dane from the Song of Rolland. He has a feather in his hat. He faces forward, a little to the right. On the English deck, he holds an unidentifiable object (initially a spear). He has a mustache. He faces right, and is seen in profile.

Ah que sono.

Voto útil, ou o meu desejo nesta Quadra (dia 20 nem sequer estou em Portugal)

Anda tudo parvo!

(a vermelho as manifestações de loucura implícitas no texto)


Liberais e conservadores asseguram reeleição

O governo liberal-conservador da Dinamarca assegurou a sua reeleição, ao vencer as eleições no país. Anders Fogh Rasmussen conseguiu mesmo ser o primeiro líder de governo liberal a ser reeleito.
( 09:35 / 09 de Fevereiro 05 )

Anders Fogh Rasmussen tornou-se, na terça-feira, o primeiro primeiro-ministro liberal a conseguir uma reeleição na Dinamarca, conseguindo mesmo que o seu governo de centro-direita alcançasse mais um lugar no parlamento local do que em 2001.De acordo com os resultados definitivos anunciados pelo Ministério do Interior, o governo liberal-conservador, que governará em aliança com o Partido do Povo Dinamarquês, de extrema-direita, conquistou 95 dos 179 lugares do parlamento.Por seu lado, a oposição liderada pelos sociais-democratas voltou a perder as eleições, registando mesmo o pior resultado em 32 anos, o que levou Mogens Lykketoft a pedir a demissão da liderança do partido.Apesar da derrota do principal partido da esquerda, a oposição de esquerda e centro-esquerda obteve 80 lugares no parlamento, mais três que em 2001.A campanha foi marcada pelo tema da imigração, na sequência da aprovação de algumas leis em 2002 que dificultaram a possibilidade de esposas estrangeiras virem para a Dinamarca e de poderem requerer asilo.



Portanto na Dinamarca o Governo é de esquerda, centro e direita, sendo a oposição por seu turno de esquerda, centro e direita. Os principais partidos de esquerda e de direita sofreram pesadas derrotas, o que configura uma situação de aproximação do povo ao centro, pela esquerda e pela direita.

:thumbsup: !!!

Pomar. Cavar o dia todo!

Não resisto a publicar uns ranks muit'a giros que eu e o Miguel inventámos para o Forum.

É que nunca se sabe, de hoje para amanhã a net desaparece por coincidência ou pela mão da Instrumentalidade Corporativa da Ordem Negra.

E depois era mau.


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Estou com "writer's block".

Não me apetece malhar em gato morto, logo não vou escrever sobre os arrebanhados, a impunidade, o deserto moral, as ruas, os céus, a chuva, as milhentas realidades mesquinhas onde cada um se perde acreditando que a vida é aquilo.

Não me apetece explorar a minha recém-descoberta tranquilidade pintando cenários de ilhas, de portos, de neve, de praias, de guitarras sensuais em cestos de fruta.

Não me apetece ir correr, levantar pesos, executar dez séries de abdominais por minuto, assar um empadão de cogumelos ao som de Filter.

Só pode ser do frio, e acreditem que esta conclusão tem muito que se lhe diga. É que é bem possível que, por causa do frio e do tempo fora de tempo, não esteja apenas eu com a cabeça trocada.

Por outro lado acredito que estas primeiras árvores tenham vindo na altura certa, arautos de dias reconquistados.

Ainda não sei o endereço do blog do Zé.

Ainda tenho que vir para aqui todos os dias asfixiar.

Estou com as idéias congeladas como um pacote de chocos de Madagáscar, ainda.

Terá de ser. O vaipe com hora marcada. O diálogo com a neura e com o cansaço espiritual na base do "mas qu'é'sta porra".

Tou com writer's block.

Há milénios que não dormia depois de almoço...

Eu também acho o Zé um grau de tudo. Um grão de Mundo. Grande Zé. Agora levaste-me ao nexus da amizade.

The fires burning, through my eyes,
Lightning strikes, burning highs,
A surge, a rush, a smokey tier,
The flickering flame what I hold dear.
Find me no, not yet 'neath this moon,
A scorning breath you hear yet soon,
The pyre of night finds me high,
For fire, my truth,
Through my eyes.

Agora podia escrever sobre a magnífica, no entanto singela refeição que acabei de tomar. Sobre frutos e céus azuis, o mar e as pessoas que se gastam em pretensas realidades. Os bardos também descansam... a coisa continua cá.

Seen the carnival at rome
Had the women I had the booze
All I can remember now
Is little kids without no shoes
So I saw that train
And I got on it
With a heartful of hate
And a lust for vomit
Now I’m walking on the sunnyside of the street

Stepped over bodies in bombay
Tried to make it to the u.s.a.
Ended up in nepal
Up on the roof with nothing at all
And I knew that day
I was going to stay
Right where I am, on the sunnyside of the street

Been in a palace, been in a jail
I just don’t want to be reborn a snail
Just want to spend eternity
Right where I am, on the sunnyside of the street

As my mother wept it was then I swore
To take my life as I would a whore
I know I’m better than before
I will not be reconstructed
Just wanna stay right here
On the sunnyside of the street

A melhor frase de engate de todos os tempos:

"Eia, vê lá se isto não cheira a clorofórmio!!!"

Walking Away

It is eighteen years ago, almost to the day -
A sunny day with the leaves just turning,
The touch-lines new ruled - since I watched you play
Your first game of football, then, like a satellite
Wrenched from its orbit, go drifting away

Behind a scatter of boys, I can see
You walking away from me towards the school
With the pathos of half-fledged thing set free
Into a wilderness, the gait of one
Who finds no path where the path should be.
That hesitant figure, eddying away
Like a winged seed loosened from its parents stem,
Has something I never quite gasp to convey
About nature’s give- and- take - the small, the scorching
Ordeals which fire one’s irresolute clay.

I have had worse partings, but none that so
Gnaws at my mind still. Perhaps it is roughly
Saying what God alone could perfectly, show
How selfhood begins with a walking away,
And love is proved in the letting go.

- Cecil Day-Lewis

(:* c)

(descobri o poeta perfeito)

The trouble with snowmen

'The trouble with snowmen,'
Said my father one year
'They are no sooner made
than they just disappear.

I'll build you a snowman
And I'll build it to last
Add sand and cement
And then have it cast.

And so every winter,'
He went on to explain
'You shall have a snowman
Be it sunshine or rain.'

And that snowman still stands
Though my father is gone
Out there in the garden
Like an unmarked gravestone.

Staring up at the house
Gross and misshapen
As if waiting for something
Bad to happen.

For as the years pass
And I grow older
When summers seem short
And winters colder.

The snowmen I envy
As I watch children play
Are the ones that are made
And then fade away.

- Roger McGough

Saudades de dar aulas

The Lesson


Chaos ruled OK in the classroom
as bravely the teacher walked in
the hooligans ignored him
hid voice was lost in the din

"The theme for today is violence
and homework will be set
I'm going to teach you a lesson
one that you'll never forget"

He picked on a boy who was shouting
and throttled him then and there
then garrotted the girl behind him
(the one with grotty hair)

Then sword in hand he hacked his way
between the chattering rows
"First come, first severed" he declared
"fingers, feet or toes"

He threw the sword at a latecomer
it struck with deadly aim
then pulling out a shotgun
he continued with his game

The first blast cleared the backrow
(where those who skive hang out)
they collapsed like rubber dinghies
when the plug's pulled out

"Please may I leave the room sir?"
a trembling vandal enquired
"Of course you may" said teacher
put the gun to his temple and fired

The Head popped a head round the doorway
to see why a din was being made
nodded understandingly
then tossed in a grenade

And when the ammo was well spent
with blood on every chair
Silence shuffled forward
with its hands up in the air

The teacher surveyed the carnage
the dying and the dead
He waggled a finger severely
"Now let that be a lesson" he said

- Roger McGough

Let Me Die a Youngman's Death

Let me die a youngman's death
not a clean and inbetween
the sheets holywater death
not a famous-last-words
peaceful out of breath death

When I'm 73
and in constant good tumour
may I be mown down at dawn
by a bright red sports car
on my way home
from an allnight party

Or when I'm 91
with silver hair
and sitting in a barber's chair
may rival gangsters
with hamfisted tommyguns burst in
and give me a short back and insides

Or when I'm 104
and banned from the Cavern
may my mistress
catching me in bed with her daughter
and fearing for her son
cut me up into little pieces
and throw away every piece but one

Let me die a youngman's death
not a free from sin tiptoe in
candle wax and waning death
not a curtains drawn by angels borne
'what a nice way to go' death

- Roger McGough

Haiku

Drinking my tea
Without sugar-
No difference.

The sparrow shits
upside down
--ah! my brain & eggs

Mayan head in a
Pacific driftwood bole
--Someday I'll live in N.Y.

Looking over my shoulder
my behind was covered
with cherry blossoms.

Winter Haiku
I didn't know the names
of the flowers--now
my garden is gone.

I slapped the mosquito
and missed.
What made me do that?

Reading haiku
I am unhappy,
longing for the Nameless.

A frog floating
in the drugstore jar:
summer rain on grey pavements.
(after Shiki)

On the porch
in my shorts;
auto lights in the rain.

Another year
has past-the world
is no different.

The first thing I looked for
in my old garden was
The Cherry Tree.

My old desk:
the first thing I looked for
in my house.

My early journal:
the first thing I found
in my old desk.

My mother's ghost:
the first thing I found
in the living room.

I quit shaving
but the eyes that glanced at me
remained in the mirror.

The madman
emerges from the movies:
the street at lunchtime.

Cities of boys
are in their graves,
and in this town...

Lying on my side
in the void:
the breath in my nose.

On the fifteenth floor
the dog chews a bone-
Screech of taxicabs.

A hardon in New York,
a boy
in San Fransisco.

The moon over the roof,
worms in the garden.
I rent this house.

- Allen Ginsberg

Ivan Noble, 1967-2005, RIP

Chinese etiquette

• Dishes are usually prepared in such a way that each piece is bite-sized so if the item is too small or too big to be picked up by the chopsticks, then it is not designed to be eaten with the chopsticks.
• Chinese traditionally eat rice from a bowl. The rice bowl is raised to the mouth and the rice is shoveled into the mouth using the chopsticks. (Note that this Chinese etiquette is the exact opposite from the Japanese custom.) If Chinese rice is served on a plate, as is more common in the West, it is acceptable and more practical to eat it with a fork or spoon. It is quite tedious to try to pick up the rice, grain by grain, but some people will attempt to do this if they do not know that they are not expected to utilise the chopsticks in this manner.
• Do not stand chopsticks in a bowl of rice or anything else because the act resembles part of a traditional funeral rite.
• For the sake of hygiene, when obtaining food from the serving dish, the chopsticks may be inverted to the other ends to pick up the food.
  

Japanese etiquette

• In general, chopsticks should be used for eating and no other purpose. Do not point or gesture with chopsticks, and do not bang them on an object to catch the attention of someone or use them like drumsticks.
• Do not dig around in dishes for choice bits of food. Eat from the top and choose what is to be eaten before reaching with chopsticks (do not hover around or poke looking for special ingredients).
• Never stab or pierce food with chopsticks.
• Never stand chopsticks upright in a bowl of rice (or anything else, for that matter, but rice especially because the act resembles part of a funeral rite)
• Do not move dishes around with chopsticks.
• Do not lick or suck the ends of chopsticks.
• Do not let food drop off ends of chopsticks.
• Do not shovel food into your mouth with chopsticks. Soup bowls, but no other dishes or bowls are brought to the mouth in Japan. While the rice bowl is raised when eating, it is not brought to the mouth.
• Never touch food in a common dish with the pointed (eating) end of chopsticks, for hygienic reasons. Use the blunt end to transfer food from a common dish to your own plate or bowl (never your mouth).
• Never use chopsticks to transfer something to someone else's chopsticks or someone else's plate or bowl.
• Place pointed ends of the chopsticks on a chopstick rest when chopsticks are not being used.
• For the sake of hygiene, when obtaining food from the serving dish, the chopsticks may be inverted to the other ends to pick up the food.

Agora só tenho que aprender a segurar os pauzinhos.

Que seria da malta hiperactiva sem as leituras online?


How the Brain Creates the Mind; Scientific American Special Editions; The Hidden Mind; by Antonio R. Damasio; 6 Page(s)
We have long wondered how the conscious mind comes to be. Greater understanding of brain function ought to lead to an eventual solution
File size: 234 KB

The Problem of Consciousness; Scientific American Special Editions; The Hidden Mind; by Francis Crick and Christof Koch; 8 Page(s)
It is now being explored through the visual system - requiring a close collaboration among psychologists, neuroscientists and theorists
File size: 169 KB

Vision: A Window on Consciousness; Scientific American Special Editions; The Hidden Mind; by Nikos K. Logothetis; 8 Page(s)
In their search for the mind, scientists are focusing on visual perception - how we interpret what we see
File size: 250 KB

The Split Brain Revisited; Scientific American Special Editions; The Hidden Mind; by Michael S. Gazzaniga; 6 Page(s)
Groundbreaking work over four decades has led to ongoing insights about brain organization and consciousness
File size: 295 KB

Sex Differences in the Brain; Scientific American Special Editions; The Hidden Mind; by Doreen Kimura; 6 Page(s)
Men and women display patterns of behavioral and cognitive differences that reflect varying hormonal influences on brain development
File size: 152 KB

New Nerve Cells for the Adult Brain; Scientific American Special Editions; The Hidden Mind; by Gerd Kempermann and Fred H. Gage; 7 Page(s)
Contrary to dogma, the human brain does produce new nerve cells in adulthood. Can this lead to better treatments for neurological diseases?
File size: 185 KB

Sign Language in the Brain; Scientific American Special Editions; The Hidden Mind; by Gregory Hickok, Ursula Bellugi and Edward S. Klima; 8 Page(s)
How does the human brain process language? New studies of deaf signers hint at an answer
File size: 263 KB

The Meaning of Dreams; Scientific American Special Editions; The Hidden Mind; by Jonathan Winson; 8 Page(s)
Dreams may be crucial in mammalian memory processing. Important information acquired while awake may be reprocessed during sleep
File size: 232 KB

Emotion, Memory and the Brain; Scientific American Special Editions; The Hidden Mind; by Joseph E. LeDoux; 10 Page(s)
The neural routes underlying the formation of memories about primitive emotional experiences, such as fear, have been traced
File size: 415 KB

The Neurobiology of Fear; Scientific American Special Editions; The Hidden Mind; by Ned H. Kalin; 10 Page(s)
Researchers are teasing apart the processes in the brain that give rise to various fears in monkeys. The results may lead to new ways to treat anxiety in humans
File size: 360 KB

The Mind-Body Interaction in Disease; Scientific American Special Editions; The Hidden Mind; by Esther M. Sternberg and Philip W. Gold; 8 Page(s)
The brain and the immune system continuously signal each other, often along the same pathways, which may explain how state of mind influences health
File size: 280 KB

The Puzzle of Conscious Experience; Scientific American Special Editions; The Hidden Mind; by David J. Chalmers, sidebar by Francis Crick and Christof Koch; 10 Page(s)
We are at last plumbing one of the most profound mysteries of existence. But knowledge of the brain alone may not get to the bottom of it
File size: 270 KB

(Dia de St. Brigid)

Saint Brigid of Ireland (Bridget, Bridgit, Brigit, Bride) (451- 525) was born at Faughart near Dundalk, County Louth, Ireland. Legend states that her parents were Dubhthach, pagan king of Leinster, and Brocca, a Christian Pictish slave who had been baptized by Saint Patrick.

According to this legend, which suffers inconsistencies common to such legends, Brigid was named after one of the most powerful goddesses of the Pagan religion that Dubhthach practiced. Brigid was the goddess of fire, whose manifestations were song and poetry, which the Irish considered the flame of knowledge. Brigid supposedly became a virgin in service to the Goddess Brigid and eventually ascended to high priestess at the Kil Dara (the temple of the oak), a pagan sanctuary built from the wood of a tree sacred to the Druids. In 468, she followed St. Mel of Armagh to Meath and converted to Christianity.

Another version of her life states that upon reaching maturity, she vexed her father by being overly generous to the poor and needy with his milk, butter, and flour. Finally, she gave away his jewel-encrusted sword to a leper. At this point, it was decided that her disposition was best suited for a nun and she was sent to a convent. The legend does not preserve when or how her hitherto pagan father became amenable to such acts. Other tales likewise exist, and the only agreement between the various stories is that a girl was born to an Irish king named Dubhtach and that her name was Brigid.

Around 470 she founded a Christian double monastery (nuns and monks) at Kildare (Cill-Dara) by either converting the pagan sanctuary or by building on unused ground there, depending upon the particular story consulted. She went on to found a school of art at the monastery where the Book of Kildare, a famous illuminated manuscript, was created. She died at Kildare on February 1 and is buried at Downpatrick with St. Columcille and St. Patrick, with whom she is co-patron of Ireland. Similar to the association between St. Patrick and the shamrock, a tiny cross made of rushes was linked with St. Brigid.

E para ouvir...

Wing Chun

*snip*

Wing Chun is not just a collection of unrelated techniques. It has a core set of guiding principles which allows practitioners to decide what is correct or incorrect Wing Chun. This keeps the art a pure and integrated fighting system, while allowing direction for refinement that is consistent with its principles.

These guiding principles are strictly practical and is part of the reason for Wing Chun's uniquely scientific and logical approach to fighting. It is likely that Bruce Lee managed to develop Jeet Kune Do from Wing Chun because Wing Chun trained him to think about fighting in a scientific way.

All Wing Chun techniques have a practical purpose. There are no flowery moves or graceful techniques that mimic animal movements. To the uninitiated, Wing Chun can appear less effective when compared with more dramatic styles. Like Hsing Yi, another linear style, Wing Chun practitioners pride themselves on plain-looking but effective techniques. The crowd-pleasing elaborate moves used by Bruce Lee in his movies are not real Wing Chun or Jeet Kune Do. Bruce Lee consciously choreographed more flamboyant moves to entertain his fans. His actual fighting style was simple, direct and effective.

Following this utilitarian approach, the names of Wing Chun techniques are purely descriptive. For example - bounce hand (tan sau), wing arm (bong sau), slapping hand (pak sau). Wing Chun terminology is traditionally rendered in the Cantonese dialect of Chinese.

*snip*