haroldsnedleigh

Acabei de tomar a decisão mais importante da minha vida...
...vou começar a lavar/pentear o meu cabelo todos os dias (até alguém me tornar a chamar metraleiro e eu o cortar outra vez)

Jesus fókin' Franco

Quem alinha numa de perpretar um genocídio na sábado à tarde na feira do livro de lisboa? Marchamos rua abaixo até à fnac do chiado a semear o caos nas paragens de autocarros e o desdém no top cor-de-rosa-choque-fashion da filha da burguesia. Engendramos uma tarde de cristal e dividimos o saque fraternalmente ao lado da fogueira onde os despojos estão prontos a consumir ("missa gnóstica do antropófago panda joaquim"). À noite improvisamos uma tabela de basquete no arco da rua augusta e vêmos se os branquinhos jogam melhor do que os pretinhos com a cabeça da margarida rebelo pinto. Para acabar o dia, uma orgia dionísica com os melhores espécimes dos três sexos logo seguida de uma dança super pagã sob a égide da nossa senhora das Flores.
 "Amanhã, abraçados, tontos de noite, despertaremos em lenços de esperma quente".

Uma peça inédita em três actos do escritor beat americano Jack Kerouac foi descoberta num armazém de Nova Jérsia, anunciou a revista Best Life, que irá publicar excertos da obra na sua edição de Julho. Beat Generation foi escrita em 1957, ano de Pela Estrada Fora, um dos livros que tornou Kerouac célebre. "É uma obra maior de um dos maiores nomes da história literária americana, e ei-la, nunca lida, coberta de pó há um século", disse à AFP o chefe de redacção da Best Life, Stephen Perrine. A peça, que Marlon Brando recusou interpretar, apesar dos pedidos do próprio Kerouac, conta um dia na vida dissoluta do alter ego literário do autor, Jack Duluoz, entre personagens que recordam outros autores beat, como Allen Ginsberg.



(in dêén,a 25 do 5 do 2000 e do 5)

merda

goddess,take me away...
...won't sleep tonite,as it seems,the soccer team of all poor and opressed truckdrivers/factory workers/civil construction/vagabonds around here won the championship and now everyone lost the last brain cells on their heads and went to the streets screaming and/or driving their cars around while making the most disturbing noize ov it all...
god bless stupidity!

TAGORE: The tendency in modern civilization is to make the world uniform. Calcutta, Bombay, Hong Kong, and other cities are more or less alike, wearing big masks which represent no country in particular.

WELLS: Yet don't you think that this very fact is an indication that we are reaching out for a new world-wide human order which refuses to be localized?

TAGORE: Our individual physiognomy need not be the same. Let the mind be universal. The individual should not be sacrificed.

WELLS: We are gradually thinking now of one human civilization on the foundation of which individualities will have great chance of fulfillment. The individual, as we take him, has suffered from the fact that civilization has been split up into separate units, instead of being merged into a universal whole, which seems to be the natural destiny of mankind.

TAGORE: I believe the unity of human civilization can be better maintained by linking up in fellowship and cooperation of the different civilizations of the world. Do you think there is a tendency to have one common language for humanity?

WELLS: One common language will probably be forced upon mankind whether we like it or not. Previously, a community of fine minds created a new dialect. Now it is necessity that will compel us to adopt a universal language.



http://www.cs.brockport.edu/~smitra/wells.html

En Mi Cielo Al Crepúsculo

Este poema es una parúfrasis del poema 30 de El jardinero de Rabindranath Tagore.

En mi cielo al crepúsculo cres como una nube
y tu color y forma son como yo los quiero.
Eras mía, cres mía, mujer de labios dulces
y viven en tu vida mis infinotos sueños.

La lámpara de mí alma te sonorosa los pies,
el agrio vino mío es más dulce en tus labios,
oh segadora de mi canción de atardecer,
cómo te sienten mía mis sueños solitarios!

Eres mía, eres mía, voy gritando en la brisa
de la tarde, y el viento arrastra mi voz viuda.
Cazadora del fondo de mis ojos, tu robo
estanca como el agua tu mirada nocturna.

En la red de mi música estás presa, amor mío,
y mis redes de música son anchas como el cielo.
Mi alma nace a la orilla de tus ojos de luto.
En tus ojos de luto comienza el país del sueño.

wish i had this throbbing gristle live record inside my head that would play 24 hours a day non stop

someone has just abandoned a cute little puppy in front of my door. can't bring him home because i live in a tiny house and now the only thing left to do is listening his anguish mourn all afternoon...suddenly the urge to spoon my heart out knocked at my door...
...no pity for those who express their everyday frustration towards animals!

portuguese journalism blows (it's a fact). only upper class 'look-i-have-a-rich-family' people are able to apply that degree. (un)fortunately, this year i've met an unbelievable specimen of future Mr-future-good-looking-anchorman at school. Goddess,how my round arse have laughed with his public exhibition of genneral culture. he's the kind of person that will send his country(not mine,I've given away my portuguese citizenship years ago) to oblivion in a near future. even my underwear get pee when i'm forced to think about this (goddamn awareness!!). that type of folks will ALWAYS learn only what school books have to offer them(which,i've to say,won't be any good). no wonder a guy ,who has an high grade, can't answear to his teacher when she asks him to explain what the whole faust myth is about. this is a guy who buys every book at fnac's top 10 and will only read 1 ov them (ya know,it's a very intelligent thing to have a room filled with useless stuff). bah...has for me,i'll impregnate myself with anti-social status and a low college degree...
...long live non coherent posts!

bored as hell lately. no money for new books,booze,dope,a night out at the hottest club to shake my large butt. did what any regular joe would do in my situation, new membership at the nearest library (lost three cards in the past year). although that joint is always filled with preety people waging their stupidity and brand new clothes, there's a few good books there (e.g; stuff by j.genet,mirbeau,tagore,j.peladan...). needless to say that those books are good as new (since only the da vinci code's of life get picked up there...). maybe i should get a job around there. while i would be taking ruthlessly the virignity out of those books, kidz would surf every kind of porn their will would demand (they can't now,'cuz the decency guerrilla would get out of the bushes and kick their arses out of there to the nearest kamp du konzentration, while tearing apart their membership cards). not allowing kidz to surf porn at public libraries it's an vicious attack at freedom ov speech and should be punished with a lifetime sentence of softwork at a 24 hour summer-big-budget-action-flick movie theatre without any candy!

love is the flaw.
love under thrill.

just had this a awkward dream on the afternoon. this guy (who look exactly like the person whose body I'm using now) was talking to his cousin's dog at this kind of eden garden filled with lemon trees. i guess they were talking about socialization processes, when suddenly some tailless kitty flees in a hurry to that guy's couisin neighbour (probably running away from thee hand attached to thee body). that lovely chit chat lasted for 10 minutes or so I think. at some moment the doggy followed kitty to the other garden, after someone said dogs also liked to be petted as kats. as it seems, dogs won't swallow their pride and just admit they are as human as the person seated across the street. screw it, i'll throw my televison out from my 13th floor window and kill the radio star mit der Video!! alles gengen tv!!

um especial "vai-te" foder para ti,que me tiras o sono e me deixas atónito num corpo à beira do colapso

the only highlight of this past week,was given to me by tv this past mourning.when I woke up to take some medicine all those useless chanels were showing the pope's burial (won't mention that,isn't worthy of it...),and,at some moment,the cameras were pointed to the notorious guests there ('till this point nothing relevant,since they were the fuel behind such opulent funeral) and among them,more precisely between some whities,there he was,robert mugabe,seated and smilling to the cameras.
where has all the notion of shame gone to...maybe to the ground with the pope?

my grandmother used to say to me that "when a man is with bad luck,even dogs will pee on them" (hurray to criativity!).well,I've just picked up underwear,that was drying on my balcony,with a little "present" from those lovely birds with nests above my window.On thee present week (which,fortunately,will die within one day!) my body have been atacked by several diseases that led me to question the Providence.really,a belly button infection (as the nurse who pierced my skin with a dirty sewing machine said) is a one in a million case,and why did it happend to me?! why are my army boots grinding my feet?! why are all my teeth doing some fucking revolution inside my mouth?! why are my ears bleeding like the fucking ganga?! oh,Goddess,I'd give my life for a bottle of booze to cease my pain...

"Nessa altura eu não percebia as mulheres.Aliás,agora também não.Nem os homens.Nem os animais.O que percebo melhor,e não é dizer muito,são as minhas dores.Penso-as todas,todos os dias,não demora muito,o pensamento corre tão depressa.Sim,há momentos,especialmente à tarde,em que fico sincretista,à la Reinhold.Que equilíbrio! Aliás,também as percebo mal,às minhas dores.Deve ser por causa de eu não ser todo dor.Eis o estorvo"
(samuel beckett)