Primavera #16

Parece que estou a ouvir #112

Tiro ao Álvaro

Adoniran Barbosa & Elis Regina

De tanto levar frechada do teu olhar

Meu peito até parece sabe o quê?

Tauba de tiro ao álvaro

Não tem mais onde furar

Teu olhar mata mais

Do que bala de carabina

Que veneno estriquinina

Que peixeira de baiano

Teu olhar mata mais

Que atropelamento de automóver

Mata mais que bala de revorve

Crianças

A data varia muito... pelo menos que sejam felizes no dia delas :-)

Primeiro sabem-se as respostas

"Primeiro sabem-se as respostas.

As perguntas chegam depois,
como aves voltando a casa ao fim da tarde
e pousando, uma a uma, no coração
quando o coração já se recolheude perguntas e de respostas.

[...]

MANUEL ANTÓNIO PINA, «POESIA, SAUDADE DA PROSA»

Foi neste dia #147 (1859)

Foi há 152 anos que o relógio da grande torre do Tamisa começou a funcionar.

Pedaços de Memphis

Memphis tem:

o enorme Mississippi ainda fora de margens,

embora já tenha baixado bastante

música ao vivo e ao ar livre na Levitt Shell

prédios antigos... cotton money

eléctrico!

uma fixação qualquer com gansos

e patos

muita música na Beale street

casas (de classe média... no joke!) fantásticas

e amigos... de tão boas memórias!

Pudesse eu

(Kandinsky)

Pudesse eu não ter laços nem limites

Ó vida de mil faces transbordantes
Para poder responder aos teus convites
Suspensos na surpresa dos instantes.

(Sophia)

No Times de hoje #130

On the recent arrest of Ratko Mladic, many in the online community have claimed that an international court is so much more than he deserves, implicitly arguing for some sort of Abbottabat solution ending one way or another with the death penalty. I disagree. I believe that the perpetrators of hideous war crimes should be searched for, caught, tried and finally imprisoned, after which they should be allowed to live a very long life of incessant suffering regardless of their age or health condition.

Unsurprisingly, Mr. Mladic's defense is choosing the familiar strategy of portraying him as a frail, ill, old man who will probably not be physically or mentally able to withstand formal prosecution. When Mr. Mladic was healthy and strong, did he show any regard for the frail, the ill, the old, or the frightened? Even if he follows Milosevic's steps and opts for mocking the trial (stating he does not recognize the authority of the international court) while firmly standing by his beliefs and past actions, the world needs to see what kind of psychopath he is and be assured of what happens to people like him. The repetition of Pinochet 2006 would just be revolting!

Primavera #15

Latest bloom in middle Tennessee, not the Azores

No Times de hoje #129

Milosevic, 31 March 2001. Karadzic, 21 July 2008. Mladic, 26 May 2011. Very few words come to mind when expressing the feelings upon the arrest of one more person indicted with crimes against humanity in the Balkan war. Definitely not joy: Mladic's actions inflicted such irreparable losses that even if he gets the heaviest sentence, repayment is impossible. Perhaps a sense of fulfilled duty, even if the arrest is long overdue for the Srebrenica survivors: impunity perpetuates injustice. Definitely a sense of recognition to the Serbian authorities, who continue to pursue the search of those who caused so much pain, not necessarily because of vengeance, but mostly as way of protecting and enforcing the solid institutional background that will allow the country to survive. Well done!

Numa sala perto de mim #157

Downton Abbey (2010) the acclaimed BBC series, tells the story of an old aristocrat British family in the early 20th century after the main heir succumbs in the Titanic. None of the three daughters can inherit the immense estate, which is entitled by law to a far removed middle class cousin -- a young unmarried lawyer living with his mother in Manchester. This is just the beginning of the intricate plot in which the servant circle (butlers, house keepers, valets, footmen, house maids, ladies maids, cooks, kitchen maids, grooms, chauffeurs) is very much involved.

The eve of the first world war, the changing status of women, the rising of the middle class, and the emergence of socialism made the early twentieth century (perhaps, much as the early twenty-first) a time of unavoidable change from a distant world we no longer observe. Can't wait for the second series, already scheduled to air in England in the Fall. Finally, just a pearl.

No Times de hoje #128

Today the New York Times brings an article on the recent book by Peter Godwin describing the atrocities lived in Zimbabwe over the past thirty years. Unsurprisingly, last week Mugabe announced he intends to run for president later this year and sure enough he will win once more. Mugabe's regime endures based on fear alone but there are some very brave people in Zimbabwe determined to cause some disruption in the daily life of the oppressive regime. The book is an ode to all those who stand against the status quo, even when paying the highest price for their actions. The book is called The Fear: Robert Mugabe and the Martyrdom of Zimbabwe.
____________

One of the most haunting stories in this volume is that of Chenjerai Mangezo, who was nearly beaten to death after winning as a movement candidate for a rural district council. Though his body was completely immobilized in plaster, Mr. Godwin says, Mr. Mangezo insisted on attending the swearing-in ceremony, and he was driven there lying on foam mattresses heaped in the back of a pickup truck. He has continued to attend council meetings, sitting alongside some of the very Mugabe supporters who oversaw his beating.

What, besides courage, has enabled Mr. Mangezo to sit there with his persecutors? “Is it fatalism, a quality that Westerners see in Africans?” Mr. Godwin asks. “Westerners often mistake African endurance, and the lack of self-pity, for fatalism. No, I think the other quality in Chenjerai Mangezo is patience, a dogged tenacity. He hasn’t given up on getting justice. But he will wait for it.”

Pormenores #67

Quantas cigarras, larva ou completas?

(clicar para ampliar)

Parece que estou a ouvir #111

E o Mundo Não se Acabou

Anunciaram e garantiram que o mundo ía-se acabar

Por causa disso a minha gente lá de casa começou a rezar

E até disseram que o sol ía nascer antes da madrugada

Por causa disso nessa noite lá no morro nem se fez batucada

Acreditei nessa conversa mole

Pensei que o mundo ía-se acabar

E fui tratando de me despedir

E sem demora fui tratando de aproveitar

Beijei na boca de quem não devia

Peguei na mão de quem não conhecia

Dancei um samba em traje de maillot

E o tal do mundo não se acabou.

Chamei um gajo com quem não me dava

E perdoei a sua ingratidão

E festejando o acontecimento

Gastei com ele mais de quinhentão

Agora eu soube que o gajo anda

Dizendo coisa que nao se passou

Hiii vai ter barulho e vai ter confusão

Porque o mundo não se acabou.

Parece que estou a ouvir #110

Rythm of Love
Plain White T

My head is stuck in the clouds
She begs me to come down Says,
"Boy, quit foolin' around" I told her,
"I love the view from up here
Warm sun and wind in my ear
We'll watch the world from above
As it turns to the rhythm of love"

We may only have tonight
But till the morning sun, you're mine All mine
Play the music low
And sway to the rhythm of love

My heart beats like a drum
A guitar string to the strum
A beautiful song to be sung
She's got blue eyes deep like the sea
That roll back when she's laughing at me
She rises up like the tide
The moment her lips meet mine

We may only have tonight
But till the morning sun, you're mine
All mine Play the music low
And sway to the rhythm of love

When the moon is low
We can dance in slow motion
And all your tears will subside
All your tears will dry

And long after I've gone
You'll still be humming along
And I will keep you in my mind
The way you make love so fine

We may only have tonight
But till the morning sun, you're mine
All mine Play the music low
And sway to the rhythm of love
Play the music low
And sway to the rhythm of love
Yeah, sway to the rhythm of love

Primavera #14

Depois das catalpas seguem as (últimas?) flores

Pormenores #66

Ao regressar do almoço tirei o casaco despreocupadamente. Minutos depois ouvi um barulho estranho vindo daquele lado e lá estava ela...

... a cigarra. Aparecem aos milhões por esta altura do ano, mas só de treze em treze aqui por estes lados. Saem dos seus ovos debaixo da terra e sobem pelas árvores onde ficam três a quatro dias em forma de larva. Ao fim desse tempo saem da casca já com asas e voam para tudo quanto é canto: árvores, paredes de casas, chão, casacos, cabeças etc.

São inofensivas, para além de serem feias, não mordem nem fazem mal. São também um bocado moles e não se movem se enxotadas. Chegam a ser tantas pelos caminhos que é preciso desviar os pés para não as pisar. Depois de sairem da casca os machos começam a cantar para atrair as fêmeas para o acasalamento. Passadas três semanas acaba tudo, os ovos caem à terra e só reaparecem daqui a 13 anos. Há cinco dias choveu bastante e baixou a temperatura. Parecia que as cigarras se tinham calado e desaparecido, mas hoje já se ouvem outra vez. Parece que nos próximos dias vai ficar muito calor outra vez e então é que vai ser!

Numa sala perto de mim #156

Potiche (2010) o filme onde quem muda não se espera que mude e quem se espera que mude não muda. Divertido para além do óbvio.

Espantos #292

Física nunca foi o meu forte... mas com esta só me resta dizer: pendulae, pendulum, pendulorum ;-)

Flowers & Seasons

Those hours, that with gentle work did frame
The lovely gaze where every eye doth dwell,
Will play the tyrants to the very same
And that unfair which fairly doth excel:
For never-resting time leads summer on
To hideous winter and confounds him there;
Sap cheque'd with frost and lusty leaves quite gone,
Beauty o'ersnow'd and bareness every where:
Then, were not summer's distillation left,
A liquid prisoner pent in walls of glass,
Beauty's effect with beauty were bereft,
Nor it nor no remembrance what it was:
But flowers distill'd though they with winter meet,
Leese but their show; their substance still lives sweet.

William Shakespeare, Sonnet V

Primavera #13

Esta manhã a caminho do departamento

vi o chão branco mas não de neve

gradualmente tornou-se

um autêntico cobertor

com o vento caem como flocos

e ainda há tanta flor de catalpa por caír!

Primavera #12

Afinal aquela ainda não era a última... a estação das flores não pára!

Palavras lidas #170

Se recordo quem fui, outrem me vejo,

E o passado é o presente na lembrança.

Quem fui é alguém que amo

Porém somente em sonho.

E a saudade que me aflige a mente

Não é de mim nem do passado visto,

Senão de quem habito

Por trás dos olhos cegos.

Nada, senão o instante, me conhece.

Minha mesma lembrança é nada, e sinto

Que quem sou e quem fui

São sonhos diferentes.

Ricardo Reis, Odes

Primavera #11

Magnolia grandiflora, provavelmente a última das flores da primavera em Nashville.

Numa sala perto de mim #155

Karol: A Man Who Became Pope (2005)... how the world would be different if he hadn't! A Pole enduring nazism and communism with a clear and unchanged message.

Karol Wojtyla [to a group of students revolted against the soviets] During the nazi period I happened to find myself next to the wisest man I have ever met. We were in a dark room hanging on between life and death. And this wise man wasn't a philosopher, he was a tailor. And he said to me "We will win with love, not with guns" and I answered, "how can you say that with the nazis at the door?" and he said "the nazis will disappear because evil devours itself. But if love doesn't win out, the nazis will just come back under a different name." And now you want to face down tanks with rifles? You want to give your lives? I don't think you should be giving your lives today. You should be showing your love of life instead. A love they don't know about. You have to bear witness to the sacred dignity of every life. Demonstrate peacefully. Show your pain, show your disappointment, shout out your refusal of violence. Show your love. Show your respect for life. (...) Don't provoke them. That's exactly what they want you to do. They won't be afraid of your guns. But they will be afraid of your words.

Coisas que não mudam #162

Funny advertisements:

"A bra is just like a friend, it's hard to find one that supports you just right, but once you find that perfect fit it's forever. Apply for bra makeover at..."

:D Hilarious!

Ditto #184

All women become like their mothers. That's their tragedy. No man does. That's his.

--Oscar Wilde, The Importance of Being Earnest

Numa sala perto de mim #154

Up (2009) about dreams, adventure, friends and how it depends on you to change your life around.

Num país a fingir # 48

O ainda primeiro-ministro em passo de campanha na ovibeja, enquanto a troika, em Lisboa, apresenta as medidas de ajuda internacional em Portugal, não tem dinheiro para comprar uma t-shirt e pede 5 euros emprestados. O espelho do país: Portugal, governado por esta gente, tem feito o mesmo.

Em Lisboa, o ainda ministro das finanças, em conferência de imprensa atrasada (como tudo neste país) afirma que o plano de resgate (expressão nossa, porque afinal afinal, não é assim tão grave) não é imposto a Portugal, mas um compromisso assumido por este e tem a sensação de dever cumprido.

Sophia

A saudade é a tristeza que fica em nós quando as coisas de que gostamos se vão embora.

Sophia, A Menina do Mar

Ditto #183

Ai de ti e de todos os que levam a vida a querer inventar a máquina de fazer felicidade!

--Alberto Caeiro

Ditto #182

I mourn the loss of thousands of precious lives, but I will not rejoice in the death of one, not even an enemy. Returning hate for hate multiplies hate, adding deeper darkness to a night already devoid of stars. Darkness cannot drive out darkness: only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate: only love can do that.

--Martin Luther King, Jr.

Espantos #291

À primeira vista parecem pequenos novelos de algodão doce. Mas a consistência e o sabor são bem diferentes. São milhares de finissimos fios que não se desfazem nas mãos mas que se partem com muita facilidade. Feito com farinha, manteiga, açúcar, e por vezes, barrado com pistachio. É doce, mas não por aí além. O que sobressai, é mesmo um agradável sabor de fruto seco... não digo pistachio porque este não o tinha, mais parece amêndoa. Pişmaniye, ou o algodão doce da Turquia. Bom!

Numa sala perto de mim #153

The Importance of Being Earnest (1952), this time the original... never gets old! Interesting to see how people spoke differently sixty years ago; my favorites: Gwendo-lyyyyn! and a haaand bag?!

Funny to see how Edith Evans, portraying Lady Bracknell, looks like Maria Matos in O Costa do Castelo... they were in fact almost of the same age (born in 1888 and 1890 respectively, though they died 24 years apart). The style, the voice, the pose... identical!

Caprichos #169

Like it, like it, like it!