Vou escrever um conto algures entre este domingo e a noite do jantar. Tem que ser, as mangas da minha vertigem assomam à esquina da rebeldia como virgens samoanas à vista de um drakkar ousado.

Não entendo. A Opel quer fechar a fábrica de Bochum, mandando 12 mil gajos para o olho da rua. Por razões estratégicas da empresa. Eu sei o que isto é, trabalho num sítio onde a camisola manda mentir, fingir, e escamotear, pelas razões estratégicas da empresa. E se aqui formos todos para a rua, vamos.

Em Bochum não parece que seja assim. Parece que vieram os da Mercedes, da Porsche, da BMW, e de outras fábricas da Opel, todos, mas TODOS, com faixas, com sinos, com carros, protestar e defender os seus colegas.

Ninguém fala disto?

Mari Boine
Eight Seasons

Track 9: Ii Diede

Pedra do Urso!

Pá, veio a cena da Joana e não escrevi.

Sinto que me vêem em certas camadas como uma mistura estranha entre um perigoso subversivo e o louco da aldeia, por vezes sabe-me bem pensar nisso enquanto estou a beber vinho quente e a jogar Risco com o meu filho e ouvimos qualquer canção em que as letras não tenham a ver com lamechices, dor de corno ou ódio racial pintado de preto.

Aviso desde já que vou escrever sobre três aspectos da Humanidade.

O mal inato que desperta com o contacto forçado entre demasiados elementos da espécie.

A tibieza oxidante com que uma fatia significativa da mole humana se dedica ao exercício da mais descarada, nojenta e enervante "self-righteous bigotry" em nome de "valores sérios que é preciso preservar".

Diversas razões, efectivas no terreno desde há já alguns anos - e não meramente teóricas, pelas quais as próximas 3 a 5 gerações estão intelectual e emocionalmente comprometidas, a troco de trinta dinheiros.

Haja espaço.

A falácia
(prelúdio a uma ventilação de respeito)

"Pagam-me para isto"

"Não senhor, não te pagam para isto. O gajo que decide o que tu deves fazer, que por seu turno também julga que lhe pagam para isto, é que optou por perpetuar a noção de que é isto que deve ser feito, e podemos indutivamente aplicar o mesmo raciocínio escada acima, até chegar aos donos desta coisa, que decerto muito espantados ficariam se descobrissem que têm a seu soldo pessoas que julgam que são pagas para isto"

"És capaz de ter razão, mas as coisas não são assim"

*

Acham que a BBC News publica um comentário destes?

"In all honesty, I'd like to see the U.S. and other powers take up weapons, seize all countries where corruption and tribalism hold sway, and feed, heal and educate the people of those countries. Much like Iraq, but instead of taking the oil and sending troops to get killed, they could really do something productive. What's so hard about it? Maybe just a matter of motivation?"

Não costumo perder o meu tempo, mas teve que ser...

O de baixo é meu, mas este é de alguém que a Lydia encontrou :)


A is for Amy who fell down the stairs,
B is for Basil assaulted by bears.
C is for Clara who wasted away,
D is for Desmond thrown out of a sleigh.
E is for Earnest who choked on a peach,
F is for Fanny, sucked dry by a leach.
G is for George, smothered under a rug,
H is for Hector, done in by a thug.
I is for Ida, who drowned in a lake,
J is for James who took lye by mistake.
K is for Kate, struck with an axe,
L is for Leo, who swallowed some tacks.
M is for Maud, swept out to sea,
N is for Neville, who died of ennui.
O is for Olive, run through with an Awl,
P is for Prue, trampled flat in a Brawl.
Q is for Quinten who sank in a mire,
R is for Rhoda, consumed by a fire.
S is for Susan who perished of fits,
T is for Titus who flew into bits.
U is for Una who slipped down a drain,
V is for victor squashed under a train.
W is for Winnie, imbedded in ice,
X is for Xerxes, devoured by mice.
Y is for Yorric, who's head was knocked in,
Z is for Zillah, who drank too much gin.

Don't be such a badass, I'm sure you'll make a mess, isn't that a bit of an excess?, what a raw caress, I must say you do regress to those times when we played chess, and I won less except of course, if you count the thing with Bess, by the shores of Ness, wouldnt'cha guess, say ever read Carl Vess?, I bet you'll find there some interest, but hey, let's play, YES?

time is like a bullet from behind
I run for cover just like you
time is like a liquid in my hands
I swim for dry land just like you

time is like a blanket on my face
I try to be here just like you
time is just a fiction of our minds
I will survive and so will you

we are the only ones right now that are celebrating
and we are joining hands right now
we are the only ones right now that are suffocating
we are the dying ones right now

as the water grinds the stone
we rise and fall
as our ashes turn to dust
we shine like stars

kisses on the dancefloor in my past
I need some comfort just like you
beating like a bass drum time goes by
I want the last dance just like you

drowning in the flood of morning light
I'm only human just like you
do you hear the city waking up
I will survive and so will you

we are the ones the only ones
we are the ones the dying ones
we are the ones the only ones
we are the ones and we are joining hands
we are the only ones right now that are celebrating

as the water grinds the stone

- covenant: bullet

Tenho uma coisa para te entregar
uma pedra a pôr no chão da rua,
uma luar presença sob o sol.
Tenho uma coisa para te devolver,
para ficar minha sendo tua,
aquecida no tempo e nestes olhos.
Tenho uma coisa que eu te posso dar
que é o vento a vir atrás do verde
e a dizer azul no teu cabelo

- Pedro Tamen

I wipe the blood from my lip
With a ragged scarf now
I get the feeling
You don't care anymore
Shaken up and shattered
I pick myself from the floor
Those sweat stained dreams
All tattered and torn


Oh bleeding heart graffiti
I don't need it
Baby I don't need it
Oh bleeding heart graffiti
I don't need it
baby I don't need it

Amongst the broken glass now
You standing in the street
Times a crawling
My life slipping by
Although I hang my head down
To the grownd and I
Tired of crying
Those whiskey soaked tears

Oh bleeding heart graffiti
I don't need it
Baby I don't need it
Oh bleeding heart graffiti
I don't need it
baby I don't need it

I will follow the rainbow
To the end of the road and I
Didn't do you no harm, well woman
I'm a man waiting for the sun to shine
I have waited for too long, yea baby
Don't you cry now woman
Don't you cry now honey
'Cause sometime that sun is gonna shine on me, yea

Oh bleeding heart graffiti
I don't need it
Baby I don't need it
Oh bleeding heart graffiti
I don't need it
baby I don't need it

Bleeding heart graffiti
I don't need it
Baby I don't need it
Oh bleeding heart graffiti
I don't need it
baby I don't need it

Porra, hoje excedi-me. Então,

refogado, azeitinho com cebola, sal, louro e alho
deixar alourar
juntar mostarda de dijon, sem grão
juntar pimenta preta, pouquinha
juntar vinho branco, 2 dl
ihihih
estufar o bife de atum neste caldo, tapado, lume bem alto
juntar tagliatelle
juntar 2 dl de água
cozinhar durante 25 min

pão de centeio
vinhito branco, ao preço da chuva, € 1.45, geladinho

servir!

É como digo, hoje saíu uma coisa de elevar gente bronca ao nirvana.

AIMLESS DESIRE
(Sullivan/Heaton) 1995

I was working shift on the six o'clock, quiet in the pale dawn.
Found a bird caught in the machinery - set it free and watched it go
Quit the job that very day, and flew into the sky
Just following after this aimless desire, this awful desire, this worthless desire.

Now I've found causes and I've found families, but nothing ever lasts;
I've known people I'd die for - if only they had asked.
Where I'm from is not my home, and neither's where I'm bound;
Just following after this aimless desire, worthless desire
So tonight beneath the bridge where the fires burn,
God, take the freedom back,
deliver me from the aimless desire, the worthless desire
And chimera she waits, and I have still got this hole in me
still got this hole inside of me

A Cradle Wind
Kazimierz Przerwa-Tetmajer

Toward my cradle flew a Tatra wind,
brushed by eagles' wings and mountain pines
which gape from craggs into the abyss --
it blew and roared above my cradle.

Into my heart poured a lasting fit
of longing for eagles' flight and the
pensiveness of pines swaying in the
mountain tops, engulfed in pure quiet.

-translated by Walter Whipple

Cross

I am horizontal
You are vertical
You are the mountain
I am the valley
I am the Earth
You are the Sun
I am the shield
You are the sword
I am the wound
You are the pain
I am the night
You are God
You are the fire
I am the water
I am naked
You are in me
I am horizontal
But not every time
You are vertical
But for the time being
I am vertical
The mountain of orgasm
You are horizontal
Near me

- Rafal Wojaczek

Mónica : esta a nevar, nevar, nevar
Mónica : nao se ve um palmo a frente do nariz
Mónica : ou melhor, so se ve branco
Mónica : uma ventania que so visto
fsnxa: lindo!!!
fsnxa: sabes
fsnxa: eu queria viver assim uma semana ou tres num ambiente desses,
fsnxa: ou numa aldeia daquelas
fsnxa: como no perfect storm
fsnxa: so gaivotas, barquinhos e frio e vento e
fsnxa: ihih
fsnxa: e peixinho
fsnxa: e copos
fsnxa: snooker
fsnxa: gente
fsnxa: musica
fsnxa: etc

Como sou viciado.

[Rawena] freedom
[Ringthane] people who care nothing about what they do to you or me, as long as they pay their bills and have their small little pleasures
[Ringthane] they mistake the notion of freedom: for me freedom is doing what you SHOULD, not what you WANT
[Rawena] why?
[Ringthane] why which part?
[Ringthane] my turn to write senseless stuff :)
[Rawena] why fredom is for you doing what you should
[Ringthane] ah
[Rawena] how you see it?
[Rawena] i know that fredom - hard to exist
[Ringthane] well, if i do what i want, without thinking of the world outside myself, then i'm not really free, am i? i would be just living inside a prison of my own, never growing, never gaining wings, never helping create the world. that's hardly free...

15:37

>*off topic* porque é que raio não há um único tópico neste fórum sem
>desvios de índole pessoal? */off topic*

Acho que é a natureza dos foruns todos por onde passámos, não é nada de pessoal.