pausa

Meio-dia. Um canto da praia sem ninguém.
O sol no alto, fundo, enorme, aberto,
Tornou o céu de todo o deus deserto.

A luz cai implacável como um castigo.
Não há fantasmas nem almas,

E o mar imenso solitário e antigo,
Parece bater palmas.


Sophia de Mello Breyner Andresen

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Hatha Yoga

Dominado.

(e muito mais difícil do que parece...)

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outro a cores

mas do Jean Vigo, no Nimas


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À propos...

Da colecção "variações sobre um tema"



(Matisse, Morris, Hopper)

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Em audição

com a cortesia da Blue Note Records

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m2 de possibilidades

Paul Klee


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blues and sentimental

The Weary Blues

Droning a drowsy syncopated tune,
Rocking back and forth to a mellow croon,
I heard a Negro play.
Down on Lenox Avenue the other night
By the pale dull pallor of an old gas light
He did a lazy sway . . .
He did a lazy sway . . .
To the tune o' those Weary Blues.
With his ebony hands on each ivory key
He made that poor piano moan with melody.
O Blues!
Swaying to and fro on his rickety stool
He played that sad raggy tune like a musical fool.
Sweet Blues!
Coming from a black man's soul.
O Blues!
In a deep song voice with a melancholy tone
I heard that Negro sing, that old piano moan--
"Ain't got nobody in all this world,
Ain't got nobody but ma self.
I's gwine to quit ma frownin'
And put ma troubles on the shelf."

Thump, thump, thump, went his foot on the floor.
He played a few chords then he sang some more--
"I got the Weary Blues
And I can't be satisfied.
Got the Weary Blues
And can't be satisfied--
I ain't happy no mo'
And I wish that I had died."
And far into the night he crooned that tune.
The stars went out and so did the moon.
The singer stopped playing and went to bed
While the Weary Blues echoed through his head.
He slept like a rock or a man that's dead.

Langston Hughes



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blue and sentimental

a ouvir a versão de Count Basie e sua orquestra, Disque d’Or, gravado em Junho-Julho 1960



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Poemas que ficam (ii)

This Is Just To Say

I have eaten
the plums
that were in
the icebox

and which
you were probably
saving
for breakfast

Forgive me
they were delicious
so sweet
and so cold

William Carlos Williams, 1962




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Provavelmente

o blog mais bonito do mundo

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Em vocalização (I)

There is a light that never goes out

Take me out tonight
Where there's music and there's
People who are young and alive

Driving in your car
I never never want to go home
Because I haven't got one, anymore

Take me out tonight
Because I want to see people
And I want to see lights

Driving in your car
Oh, please don't drop me home
Because it's not my home
It's their home and I'm welcome no more

And if a double-decker bus crashes into us
To die by your side is such a heavenly way to die
And if a ten ton truck kills the both of us
To die by your side, well, the pleasure and the privilege is mine

Take me out tonight
Take me anywhere, I don't care, I don't care, I don't care

And in the darkened underpass
I thought oh God, my chance has come at last
But then a strange fear gripped me and I just couldn't ask

Take me out tonight
Take me anywhere, I don't care, I don't care, I don't care

Just driving in your car
I never never want to go home
Because I haven't got one
I haven't got one

And if a double-decker bus crashes into us
To die by your side is such a heavenly way to die
And if a ten ton truck kills the both of us
To die by your side, well, the pleasure and the privilege is mine

There is a light that never goes out
There is a light that never goes out
There is a light that never goes out

The Smiths, The Queen is dead, 1986

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o novo Terceiro Anel

175 números e 5 horas depois, piso 3 superior, sector 25, fila Y 10 a 14, fila V 17 a 19, Casa do Benfica de Campo de Ourique e amigos

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em audição (III)

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portal do tempo

Subitamente encontrou-se no meio de uma clareira.
As árvores faziam como que um círculo perfeito num perfil verde e castanho. Não havia vento.
Ao seu lado não se encontrava nem a mochila nem qualquer utensílio. Apenas a roupa que tinha vestida e o relógio onde os números dos segundos apareciam com o intervalo previsível.
Tempo real.
Suspirou de alívio.
Tempo real, atmosfera terrestre e sabia-se lá mais o quê…
E sem armas.
Porque ainda não fora inventada nenhuma que afugentasse o medo. O nosso próprio medo.
Porque as armas nunca serviram nem para dar esperança nem para dar confiança. Porque nenhuma arma em tempo algum conseguiu incutir coragem ou proporcionar clarividência… as armas, por todo o sempre só serviram para enganar quem as possui. Os homens são o que são pela força da sua inteligência apesar da força das armas… mesmo quando, aparentemente as armas, vencem… sempre.

(João Aniceto, A lenda)

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com 45 anos

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procuro

a password para a Presidência da República


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Belos elencos (V)

limas
açucar amarelo
gelo
cachaça

(nas doses adequadas e misturado apenas por especialistas)

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Faz-me lembrar qualquer coisa....

Lucien Freud, The Egiptian book




Spoooooky.

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procuro

a password do europa_social@aeiou.pt

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Cassavetes

no Ávila



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