Salada grega: simples e saborosa para dias que ainda não vão frios!
09 outubro, 2022
08 outubro, 2022
07 outubro, 2022
06 outubro, 2022
05 outubro, 2022
Espantos #645
Quando chove
e faz sol em pouco tempo,
o arco-íris não tarda
e depois fica sol como se nada fosse...
03 outubro, 2022
02 outubro, 2022
Palavras lidas #527
Ode to Chocolate
by Barbara Crooker
I hate milk chocolate, don't want clouds
of cream diluting the dark night sky,
don't want pralines or raisins, rubble
in this smooth plateau. I like my coffee
black, my beer from Germany, wine
from Burgundy, the darker, the better.
I like my heroes complicated and brooding,
James Dean in oiled leather, leaning
on a motorcycle. You know the color.
Oh, chocolate! From the spice bazaars
of Africa, hulled in mills, beaten,
pressed in bars. The cold slab of a cave's
interior, when all the stars
have gone to sleep.
Chocolate strolls up to the microphone
and plays jazz at midnight, the low slow
notes of a bass clarinet. Chocolate saunters
down the runway, slouches in quaint
boutiques; its style is je ne sais quoi.
Chocolate stays up late and gambles,
likes roulette. Always bets
on the noir.
by Barbara Crooker
I hate milk chocolate, don't want clouds
of cream diluting the dark night sky,
don't want pralines or raisins, rubble
in this smooth plateau. I like my coffee
black, my beer from Germany, wine
from Burgundy, the darker, the better.
I like my heroes complicated and brooding,
James Dean in oiled leather, leaning
on a motorcycle. You know the color.
Oh, chocolate! From the spice bazaars
of Africa, hulled in mills, beaten,
pressed in bars. The cold slab of a cave's
interior, when all the stars
have gone to sleep.
Chocolate strolls up to the microphone
and plays jazz at midnight, the low slow
notes of a bass clarinet. Chocolate saunters
down the runway, slouches in quaint
boutiques; its style is je ne sais quoi.
Chocolate stays up late and gambles,
likes roulette. Always bets
on the noir.
01 outubro, 2022
Ditto#526
Human beings, who are almost unique in having the ability to learn from the experience of others, are also remarkable for their apparent disinclination to do so.
--Douglas Adams
30 setembro, 2022
29 setembro, 2022
Parece que estou a ouvir #377
Expensive Soul
Mas às vezes tenho que fingir
Dizer-te: eu estou bem
Bem melhor sem ninguém
É contigo que eu quero casar
Mas às vezes deixas-me a pensar
E babe eu estou sem
Sem ver o que aí vem
1, 2,3
O que vem aí
É sobre ti
Se queres, eu quero
Se queres, eu quero
Se queres, eu quero-te mais
O que vem aí
É sobre ti
Se queres, eu quero
Se queres, eu quero
Se queres, eu quero-te mais
É preciso aprender a sorrir
Mas às vezes teimas em fugir
É um vai e vem
À procura de alguém
É contigo que eu sou feliz
Mas balanço sempre por um triz
Hey babe eu estou sem
Sem nada p'ra ninguém
O que vem aí
É sobre ti
Se queres, eu quero
Se queres, eu quero
Se queres, eu quero-te mais
O que vem aí
É sobre ti
Se queres, eu quero
Se queres, eu quero
Se queres, eu quero-te mais
Sei que é contigo
Que me sinto bem
Confuso no que digo
Mais do que convém
Bebo e fumo demais agora
Perco o rumo se vais embora
Para te ser sincero
Se queres, eu quero
Se tiras, eu dou
Se vens, não estou
Aliás estou no limbo
Como quem cai do cimo
E vai ao fundo
Sei que não sou o melhor do mundo
Tás permanentemente
Sempre à frente, és diferente
Transcendente, consciente
Independentemente, reticente
É a minha sina
Vou do Porto à China
Deliberadamente
Agora que está quente
E mais eficiente
É certo o que vem aí
O que vem aí (É sobre ti)
É sobre ti (Hein, hein)
Se queres, eu quero (Se que.)
Se queres, eu quero (Eu quero)
Se queres, eu quero-te mais
O que vem aí (Yeah, yeah)
É sobre ti (Ok, ok)
Estou cansado
Estou no limbo
Estou cansado
Estou no limbo
Se queres, eu quero
Se queres, eu quero
Se queres, eu quero-te mais
Espero dizer-te
Contigo é diferente
Se queres, eu quero-te mais
E no fundo
Tu sabes que te faz bem
Que te faz bem
Que me faz bem
Tu sabes que te faz bem
Que me faz bem
Que nos faz bem
É verdade
Estou no limbo
E só quero sair
Se queres
Eu quero
28 setembro, 2022
27 setembro, 2022
Parece que estou a ouvir #376
José Mário Branco
Do que um homem é capaz?
As coisas que ele faz
Pra chegar aonde quer
É capaz de dar a vida
Pra levar de vencida
Uma razão de viver
A vida é como uma estrada
Que vai sendo traçada
Sem nunca arrepiar caminho
E quem pensa estar parado
Vai no sentido errado
A caminhar sozinho
Vejo gente cuja vida
Vai sendo consumida
Por miragens de poder
Agarrados a alguns ossos
No meio dos destroços
Do que nunca vão fazer
Vão poluindo o percurso
Com as sobras do discurso
Que lhes serviu pra abrir caminho
À custa das nossas utopias
Usurpam regalias
Pra consumir sozinhos
Com políticas concretas
Impõem essas metas
Que nos entram casa adentro
Como a trilateral
Com a treta liberal
E as virtudes do centro
No lugar da consciência
A lei da concorrência
Pisando tudo pelo caminho
Pra castrar a junventude
Mascaram de virtude
O querer vencer sozinho
Ficam cínicos brutais
Descendo cada vez mais
Pra subir cada vez menos
Quanto mais o mal se expande
Mais acham que ser grande
É lixar os mais pequenos
Quem escolher ser assim
Quando chegar ao fim
Vai ver que errou o seu caminho
Quando a vida é hipotecada
No fim não sobra nada
E acaba-se sozinho
Mesmo sendo os poderosos
Tão fracos e gulosos
Que precisam do poder
Mesmo havendo tanta gente
Pra quem é indiferente
Passar a vida a morrer
Há princípios e valores
Há sonhos e amores
Que sempre irão abrir caminho
E quem viver abraçado
Na vida que há ao lado
Não vai morrer sozinho
E quem morrer abraçado
À vida que há ao lado
Não vai viver sozinho
26 setembro, 2022
Coisas que não mudam #607
Totalitarian governments running sham referendums or elections in an attempt to legitimize their power
photo from The Economist
25 setembro, 2022
Parece que estou a ouvir #375
Handel: Acis and Galatea, HWV 49, Act 1
Happy we!
What joys I feel!
What charms I see
Of all youths/nymphs thou dearest boy/brightest fair!
Thou all my bliss, thou all my joy!
Happy…
Happy we!
What joys I feel!
What charms I see
Of all youths/nymphs thou dearest boy/brightest fair!
Thou all my bliss, thou all my joy!
Happy…
24 setembro, 2022
23 setembro, 2022
Parece que estou a ouvir #374
Banners
I don't wanna die or fade away
I just wanna be someone
I just wanna be someone
Dive and disappear without a trace
I just wanna be someone
Well, doesn't everyone?
And if you feel the great dividing
I wanna be the one you're guiding
'Cause I believe that you could lead the way
I just wanna be somebody to someone, oh
I wanna be somebody to someone, oh
I never had nobody and no road home
I wanna be somebody to someone
And if the sun starts setting, the sky goes cold
Then if the clouds get heavy and start to fall
I really need somebody to call my own
I wanna be somebody to someone
Someone to you
Someone to you
Someone to you
Someone to you (someone to you)
I don't even need to change the world (change, change the world)
I'll make the moon shine just for your view
I'll make the starlight circle the room (circle the room)
And if you feel like night is falling
I wanna be the one you're calling
'Cause I believe that you could lead the way
I just wanna be somebody to someone, oh (somebody)
I wanna be somebody to someone, oh
I never had nobody and no road home (I don't have)
I wanna be somebody to someone (somebody)
And if the sun starts setting, the sky goes cold
Then if the clouds get heavy and start to fall
I really need somebody to call my own
I wanna be somebody to someone
Someone to you
Someone to you
Someone to you
Someone to you
The kingdom come, the rise, the fall
The setting sun above it all
I just wanna be somebody to you
I just wanna be somebody to someone, oh
I wanna be somebody to someone, oh
I never had nobody and no road home
I wanna be somebody to someone
And if the sun starts setting, the sky goes cold
Then if the clouds get heavy and start to fall
I really need somebody to call my own
I wanna be somebody to someone
Someone to you
Someone to you
Someone to you
Someone to you
Someone to you
22 setembro, 2022
Parece que estou a ouvir #373
Silence 4 (melhor que o original, by Erasure)
I try to discover
A little something to make me sweeter
Oh baby refrain from breaking my heart
I'm so in love with you
I'll be forever blue
That you gimme no reason
Why you make-a-me work so hard
That you gimme no
That you gimme no
That you gimme no
That you gimme no
Soul, I hear you calling
Oh baby, please, give a little respect to me
And if I should falter
Would you open you arms out to me?
We can make love not war
And live at peace with our hearts
I'm so in love with you
I'll be forever blue
What religion or reason
Could drive a man to forsake his lover?
Don't you tell me no
Don't you tell me no
Don't you tell me no
Don't you tell me no
Soul, I hear you calling
Oh baby, please, give a little respect to me
I'm so in love with you
I'll be forever blue
That you gimme no reason
You know you make-a-me work so hard
That you gimme no
That you gimme no
That you gimme no
That you gimme no
Soul, I hear you calling
Oh baby, please, give a little respect to me
Soul, I hear you calling
Oh baby, please, give a little respect to me
21 setembro, 2022
Palavras lidas #526
Fractured
by Hali Sofala-Jones
My grandmother is only one day
into her infirmity and doped up
on Morphine. Her shoulder is immobile
beneath layers of plaster.
Her eighty-five-year-old frame droops
from the weight of it.
My mother confesses:
she cannot take care of her mother.
I am not she says a nursemaid.
My mother is angry. Angry
at my sister who didn’t give enough
support, angry at my grandmother
for shuffling her feet, angry even
at the dog that was tucked beneath
my grandmother’s arm
as they all three tried to squeeze
into the door of the vet’s office.
She calls me from the emergency room
to say that grandmother fractured her shoulder
in three places. She’s become an invalid
overnight, she says. My sister calls her cruel
for refusing to run the bathwater, refusing
to wash my grandmother’s naked body, for
not even considering renting
a wheelchair for her to move from place
to place. When grandmother whispers
that she is afraid to walk, my mother
tells her that there’s nothing wrong with
her legs, tells her she’ll have to go to a
nursing home if she won’t walk
to the bathroom: one piss in the bed is
understandable, two is teetering too
close to in-home care.
My sister does not understand that there
is too much to overcome between them—
always the memory of the black dress
grandmother refused to wear
on the day of her husband’s funeral—
the way she turned to my mother and said,
I am not in mourning.
by Hali Sofala-Jones
My grandmother is only one day
into her infirmity and doped up
on Morphine. Her shoulder is immobile
beneath layers of plaster.
Her eighty-five-year-old frame droops
from the weight of it.
My mother confesses:
she cannot take care of her mother.
I am not she says a nursemaid.
My mother is angry. Angry
at my sister who didn’t give enough
support, angry at my grandmother
for shuffling her feet, angry even
at the dog that was tucked beneath
my grandmother’s arm
as they all three tried to squeeze
into the door of the vet’s office.
She calls me from the emergency room
to say that grandmother fractured her shoulder
in three places. She’s become an invalid
overnight, she says. My sister calls her cruel
for refusing to run the bathwater, refusing
to wash my grandmother’s naked body, for
not even considering renting
a wheelchair for her to move from place
to place. When grandmother whispers
that she is afraid to walk, my mother
tells her that there’s nothing wrong with
her legs, tells her she’ll have to go to a
nursing home if she won’t walk
to the bathroom: one piss in the bed is
understandable, two is teetering too
close to in-home care.
My sister does not understand that there
is too much to overcome between them—
always the memory of the black dress
grandmother refused to wear
on the day of her husband’s funeral—
the way she turned to my mother and said,
I am not in mourning.
20 setembro, 2022
19 setembro, 2022
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