Tuesday, June 12, 2007
the Flower and the Storm
Once upon a time, a very delicate flower grew alone between some rocks. It was a little flower, but its sadness was immense - it didn't want to be alone. So, one day, a terrible windstorm came nearby. The flower asked: "Storm, will you take me with you"? The storm kept approaching. The flower said again: "Storm, will you take me away from those rocks"? The storm then saw the flower, and reckoned it was a beautiful flower, and was afraid of destroying it. The storm slowed down, and when its first breezes touched the flower, the flower said: "take me"! The storm twisted around the flower, turning and turning, fascinated. It then saw the flower would never resist, and tried to go away. In its effort, it took a petal off. The flower stood there, shaking and hurt, watching the storm to grow darker in the horizon.
Saturday, June 02, 2007
déjà vu
He went to a French restaurant with his two friends, a Brazilian couple. She ordered a steak, his friend got the duck and he got the rabbit. They shared a bottle of red wine, ate and had some dessert. They walked half a block north to the next intersection, found the "Russia House" and climbed the stairs. They sat at the old wooden chairs, looking to the streets through the round windows. He's got a "shot" of Vodka, which turned out to be a martini glass full of it. He drank it, his friends drank their stuff and everyone left. He walked, searching on his phone for "clubs". On his right there was some movement, and the phone agreed. He walked in there, showed his ID, browsed around the bar for Her and gave up. He pushed some people around and ordered a Long Island. They returned a wrong credit card and he was still sober enough to recognize it. He got his card, walked around once again and decided to go home. Took the wrong right. Followed some people around a traffic circle. Followed other people towards a bar. Showed his ID, entered the bar. The bar looked strangely familiar, he made a note to write about déjà vu. He intuitively found the restroom, which was positioned similarly to that of the other bar. He saw those two girls he saw earlier and figured they must have walked to the same place. Then he sat down for another drink and saw the same waitress. And the realization finally came: he went back to the same bar. Realizing he was too drunk to do anything other than sleeping, he drank some water and stumbled towards the exit. Asked where the subway station was. Walked there. Sat on the escalators. Got out of the metro, where some Virginian people asked for a bar. Joined them, and after much effort got a tequila before 3am. Stumbled back home, grabbed his laptop and wrote something. Slept sitting there, woke up two hours later. Finished his tale only the next day.
Thursday, May 31, 2007
NYC 3
The Museum of Modern Art (MoMA) is full of, well, modern "art". While I appreciate the abstractions that still resemble something real (like Picasso or Miró), the "nonobjective painting" annoys me. However, their huge three-paneled water lilies redeemed them entirely. If you want to cool me down, just make me look at Monet's later life paintings.
Little Italy and Chinatown didn't quite impress me. The first at least looks good and has a lot of restaurants that look nice; the latter is too dirty and too crowded for me to really appreciate it (and I like São Paulo's equivalent for it (Liberdade) much better). However, I didn't spend a lot of time there and might have missed a lot of stuff.
I watched The Phantom of the Opera on Brodway and enjoyed it. Although the music sounds more impressive on a CD, it was still pretty good live. And the scenarios are very well done, the best I've seen on a theater so far.
The subway is dirty but overall efficient; the city's rythm is crazy (even worse than São Paulo); there's an impressive number of beautiful women on the streets; there's food for all tastes and budgets; the traffic sucks; the nightlife is very intense (and yes, you can find places to party until dawn).
The city felt like a mix of Paris and São Paulo - no one treats you very kindly, it's beautiful, huge, fast and there's always something going on. If you like cities, NYC is a must see.
Little Italy and Chinatown didn't quite impress me. The first at least looks good and has a lot of restaurants that look nice; the latter is too dirty and too crowded for me to really appreciate it (and I like São Paulo's equivalent for it (Liberdade) much better). However, I didn't spend a lot of time there and might have missed a lot of stuff.
I watched The Phantom of the Opera on Brodway and enjoyed it. Although the music sounds more impressive on a CD, it was still pretty good live. And the scenarios are very well done, the best I've seen on a theater so far.
The subway is dirty but overall efficient; the city's rythm is crazy (even worse than São Paulo); there's an impressive number of beautiful women on the streets; there's food for all tastes and budgets; the traffic sucks; the nightlife is very intense (and yes, you can find places to party until dawn).
The city felt like a mix of Paris and São Paulo - no one treats you very kindly, it's beautiful, huge, fast and there's always something going on. If you like cities, NYC is a must see.
Tuesday, May 29, 2007
NYC 2
The American Museum of Natural History is just too cool. In three hours I barely had time to see "Cosmic Explosions" and skip through the dinosaurs and the biodiversity hall. One could easily spend multiple days trying to absorb that much information.
The Grand Central Station makes one want to take the train there everyday; the New York Public Library is the most impressive library I've ever seen; the Statue of Liberty is no big deal; the Manhattan skyline is beautiful, specially when seen from the south of the island.
The Grand Central Station makes one want to take the train there everyday; the New York Public Library is the most impressive library I've ever seen; the Statue of Liberty is no big deal; the Manhattan skyline is beautiful, specially when seen from the south of the island.
Sunday, May 27, 2007
NYC 1
The Central Park is huge, nice and clean. There was a bunch of people there enjoying the spring, sitting on the grass, tanning, strolling, biking, skating, playing frisbees, eating hot dogs or ice cream cones. It's easy to get lost (I thought I was going south and ended up on Fifth Ave (east)), it's easy to enjoy.
The Guggenheim Museum is interesting. I'm not a big fan of modern art, but I can expend some time trying to figure out the value of some of their so called art. I noticed it's not random, there's a certain pattern to it. I guess that's something already, huh? Besides that, they have a cool post-impressionism section and a few Picassos.
The Empire State building is crowded. Never, ever go there on a weekend. I had to endure 90 minutes waiting in line to get up there, plus some more 45 minutes to get down to the street level. The night view is cool, NYC is beautiful from up there, but I (and everyone else leaving the elevator) was very glad to get out of it.
The Times Square is a place for tourists. A huge crowd from all parts of the world occupies the street, leaving little room for one to walk. The lights are quite impressive and it works pretty well as a symbol of the modern city life, but it gets old quickly. I am told that New Yorkers tend to avoid it.
The Guggenheim Museum is interesting. I'm not a big fan of modern art, but I can expend some time trying to figure out the value of some of their so called art. I noticed it's not random, there's a certain pattern to it. I guess that's something already, huh? Besides that, they have a cool post-impressionism section and a few Picassos.
The Empire State building is crowded. Never, ever go there on a weekend. I had to endure 90 minutes waiting in line to get up there, plus some more 45 minutes to get down to the street level. The night view is cool, NYC is beautiful from up there, but I (and everyone else leaving the elevator) was very glad to get out of it.
The Times Square is a place for tourists. A huge crowd from all parts of the world occupies the street, leaving little room for one to walk. The lights are quite impressive and it works pretty well as a symbol of the modern city life, but it gets old quickly. I am told that New Yorkers tend to avoid it.
Friday, May 25, 2007
to the East!
I'll be flying from Seattle to New York in 3 hours. I'll spend 5 days there, then 4 more in Washington DC. I've never been to any of them, so let's see. Laptop and camera in the bag; pictures and comments in a few days.
Wednesday, May 23, 2007
Be Safe
The Cribs have released a new album - "Men's Needs, Women's Needs, Whatever". I listened to it twice already and I like it.
I found these "lyrics" really interesting. This song (which sounds more like a reading than like a song) is called "Be Safe":
"One of those fucking awful black days when nothing is pleasing and everything that happens is an excuse for anger. An outlet for emotions stockpiled, an arsenal, an armour. These are the days when I hate the world, hate the rich, hate the happy, hate the complacent, the TV watchers, beer drinkers, the satisfied ones. Because I know I can be all of those little hateful things and then I hate myself for realising that. There's no preventative, directive or safe approach for living. We each know our own fate. We know from our youth how to be treated, how we'll be received, how we shall end. These things don't change. You can change your clothes, change your hairstyle, your friends, cities, continents but sooner or later your own self will always catch up. Always it waits in the wings. Ideas swirl but don't stick. They appear but then run off like rain on the windshield. One of those rainy day car rides my head implodes, the atmosphere in this car a mirror of my skull. Wet, damp, windows dripping and misted with cold. Walls of grey. Nothing good on the radio. Not a thought in my head.
Lets take life and slow it down incredibly slow, frame by frame with two minutes that take ten years to live out. Yeah, lets do that.
Telephone poles like praying mantras against the sky, metal arms outstretched. So much land travelled so little sense made of it. It doesn't mean a thing all this land laid out behind us. I'd like to take off into these woods and get good and lost for a while. I'm disgusted with petty concerns; parking tickets, breakfast specials. Does someone just have to carry this weight? Abstract typography, methane inconvenience, linear gospel, Nashville sales lady, and torturous lice, mad Elizabeth. Chemotherapy bullshit.
The light within you shines like a diamond mine, like an unarmed walrus, like a dead man face down on the highway. Like a snake eating its own tail, steam turbine, frog farm, two full closets burst open in disarray, soap bubbles in the sun, hospital death bed, red convertible, shopping list, blowjob, deaths head, devils dancing, bleached white buildings, memories, movements, the movie unfeeling, unreeling, about to begin.
I've seen your hallway, you're a darn call away, I've hear your stairs creak. I can fix my mind on your yes, and on your no. I'll film you face today in the sparkling canals, all red, yellow, blue, green brilliance and silver Dutch reflection. Racing thoughts, racing thoughts. All too real, you're moving so fast now I cant hold your image. This image I have of your face by the window, me standing beside you arm on your shoulder. A catalogue of images, flashing glimpses then gone again.
Every clear afternoon now I'll picture you up in the air twisting your heel, your knees up around me, my face in your hair. You scream so well, your smile so loud it still rings in my ears.
Imitation. Distant, tired of longing. Clean white teeth. Stay the course. Hold the wheel. Steer on to freedom. Open all the boxes.
Open all the boxes.
Open all the boxes.
Open all the boxes.
Times Square midday: newspaper buildings, news headlines going around, you watch as they go, and hope that some good comes. Those tree shadows in the park they're all whistling chasing leaves. Around six pm, shadows across cobblestones, girl in front of a bathroom mirror she slowly and carefully and paints her face green and mask like. A portrait. A green stripe. Long shot through apartment window, a monologue on top but no girl in shot. The light within you shines like a diamond mine, like an unarmed walrus, like a dead man face down on the highway. Like a snake eating its own tail steam turbine, frog farm, two full closets burst open in disarray, soap bubbles in the sun, hospital death bed, red convertible, shopping list, blowjob, deaths head, devils dancing, bleached white buildings, memories, movements. The movie unreeling, about to begin.
That was great
Yeah? Mine were alright. Wasn't my best one but who cares?
That's the spirit... "
I found these "lyrics" really interesting. This song (which sounds more like a reading than like a song) is called "Be Safe":
"One of those fucking awful black days when nothing is pleasing and everything that happens is an excuse for anger. An outlet for emotions stockpiled, an arsenal, an armour. These are the days when I hate the world, hate the rich, hate the happy, hate the complacent, the TV watchers, beer drinkers, the satisfied ones. Because I know I can be all of those little hateful things and then I hate myself for realising that. There's no preventative, directive or safe approach for living. We each know our own fate. We know from our youth how to be treated, how we'll be received, how we shall end. These things don't change. You can change your clothes, change your hairstyle, your friends, cities, continents but sooner or later your own self will always catch up. Always it waits in the wings. Ideas swirl but don't stick. They appear but then run off like rain on the windshield. One of those rainy day car rides my head implodes, the atmosphere in this car a mirror of my skull. Wet, damp, windows dripping and misted with cold. Walls of grey. Nothing good on the radio. Not a thought in my head.
Lets take life and slow it down incredibly slow, frame by frame with two minutes that take ten years to live out. Yeah, lets do that.
Telephone poles like praying mantras against the sky, metal arms outstretched. So much land travelled so little sense made of it. It doesn't mean a thing all this land laid out behind us. I'd like to take off into these woods and get good and lost for a while. I'm disgusted with petty concerns; parking tickets, breakfast specials. Does someone just have to carry this weight? Abstract typography, methane inconvenience, linear gospel, Nashville sales lady, and torturous lice, mad Elizabeth. Chemotherapy bullshit.
The light within you shines like a diamond mine, like an unarmed walrus, like a dead man face down on the highway. Like a snake eating its own tail, steam turbine, frog farm, two full closets burst open in disarray, soap bubbles in the sun, hospital death bed, red convertible, shopping list, blowjob, deaths head, devils dancing, bleached white buildings, memories, movements, the movie unfeeling, unreeling, about to begin.
I've seen your hallway, you're a darn call away, I've hear your stairs creak. I can fix my mind on your yes, and on your no. I'll film you face today in the sparkling canals, all red, yellow, blue, green brilliance and silver Dutch reflection. Racing thoughts, racing thoughts. All too real, you're moving so fast now I cant hold your image. This image I have of your face by the window, me standing beside you arm on your shoulder. A catalogue of images, flashing glimpses then gone again.
Every clear afternoon now I'll picture you up in the air twisting your heel, your knees up around me, my face in your hair. You scream so well, your smile so loud it still rings in my ears.
Imitation. Distant, tired of longing. Clean white teeth. Stay the course. Hold the wheel. Steer on to freedom. Open all the boxes.
Open all the boxes.
Open all the boxes.
Open all the boxes.
Times Square midday: newspaper buildings, news headlines going around, you watch as they go, and hope that some good comes. Those tree shadows in the park they're all whistling chasing leaves. Around six pm, shadows across cobblestones, girl in front of a bathroom mirror she slowly and carefully and paints her face green and mask like. A portrait. A green stripe. Long shot through apartment window, a monologue on top but no girl in shot. The light within you shines like a diamond mine, like an unarmed walrus, like a dead man face down on the highway. Like a snake eating its own tail steam turbine, frog farm, two full closets burst open in disarray, soap bubbles in the sun, hospital death bed, red convertible, shopping list, blowjob, deaths head, devils dancing, bleached white buildings, memories, movements. The movie unreeling, about to begin.
That was great
Yeah? Mine were alright. Wasn't my best one but who cares?
That's the spirit... "
Monday, May 21, 2007
etc
- Shrek the Third is decent, but not as good as the previous ones. I give it a 7.
- the White Stripes' newest single (Icky Thumps) sounds promising.
- Brandon Flowers (The Killers) lost his voice on their last show in Denver (allegedly due to a bronchitis crisis); 8 hours previous to the scheduled time they also postponed Seattle's presentation by one week, meaning two things: (1) I won't see them (because I will be out of town next week) and (2) neither hundreds of other alternative music fans will (because the new time conflicts with Sasquatch). Bleh.
- the White Stripes' newest single (Icky Thumps) sounds promising.
- Brandon Flowers (The Killers) lost his voice on their last show in Denver (allegedly due to a bronchitis crisis); 8 hours previous to the scheduled time they also postponed Seattle's presentation by one week, meaning two things: (1) I won't see them (because I will be out of town next week) and (2) neither hundreds of other alternative music fans will (because the new time conflicts with Sasquatch). Bleh.
Friday, May 18, 2007
Starcraft 2
www.starcraft2.com currently redirects the user to www.blizzard.com, which shows a list of all games published by Blizzard along with their year of release. The list ends with a big question mark. Guess what? Yeah, baby. We will be saving the universe once again. En Taro Adun!
(19-May-07) Update: Blizzard has officially announced Stacraft II. The above mentioned website now contains a variety of media material, including screenshots, artwork and videos. My initial impression was disappointment - after so long, I was expecting a lot more innovation. The screenshots showed a new 3D engine and pretty much the same game. Still hopeful, I went to watch the cinematic trailer. Those 4 minutes changed my opinion entirely; after watching it I was cheering in front of my PC. Blizzard did a perfect job of reminding me that the original formula was fantastic, and that keeping it could only lead to another great game.
Hell, it's about time.
(19-May-07) Update: Blizzard has officially announced Stacraft II. The above mentioned website now contains a variety of media material, including screenshots, artwork and videos. My initial impression was disappointment - after so long, I was expecting a lot more innovation. The screenshots showed a new 3D engine and pretty much the same game. Still hopeful, I went to watch the cinematic trailer. Those 4 minutes changed my opinion entirely; after watching it I was cheering in front of my PC. Blizzard did a perfect job of reminding me that the original formula was fantastic, and that keeping it could only lead to another great game.
Hell, it's about time.
Monday, May 14, 2007
Sunday, May 13, 2007
deserted cities thoughts
I watched "28 Weeks Later" yesterday. As its prequel, it features amazing takes of these post-apocalyptic, deserted, abandoned cities. Vanilla Sky's scene where Tom Cruise finds himself alone in the middle of Times Square also comes to mind. I find these scenes terribly appealing.
When I was younger and more rebellious, I liked those because they represented a start from scratch, a new chance to do things "right". Today my beliefs in "right" or "wrong" are less radical, and I see that having everyone else killed is likely not a best bet. Still, the empty streets have a deep impact on me. I figured why: it's about humanity.
Have you ever wondered what is humanity's goal, what is it we really care about as species? It's survival. And being all alone on the remains of the civilization is all about that. The survivors carry the immense responsibility of keeping mankind alive. They carry not only the genes, but also part of the knowledge we accumulated over thousands of years. If left alone, would you be able to help rebuild the planet? Would you truthfully teach our past history and myths? Would you build bridges or electricity generators? Would you cook, sew, medicate, repair, create, govern? Which values would you choose, which culture would you create?
These thoughts appeal to my innermost humanity, they make me feel responsible for and part of a greater entity. Each of us carry all the human generations in ourselves, and that's what should guide us and keep us together. "Humanity" is the ultimate moral value.
When I was younger and more rebellious, I liked those because they represented a start from scratch, a new chance to do things "right". Today my beliefs in "right" or "wrong" are less radical, and I see that having everyone else killed is likely not a best bet. Still, the empty streets have a deep impact on me. I figured why: it's about humanity.
Have you ever wondered what is humanity's goal, what is it we really care about as species? It's survival. And being all alone on the remains of the civilization is all about that. The survivors carry the immense responsibility of keeping mankind alive. They carry not only the genes, but also part of the knowledge we accumulated over thousands of years. If left alone, would you be able to help rebuild the planet? Would you truthfully teach our past history and myths? Would you build bridges or electricity generators? Would you cook, sew, medicate, repair, create, govern? Which values would you choose, which culture would you create?
These thoughts appeal to my innermost humanity, they make me feel responsible for and part of a greater entity. Each of us carry all the human generations in ourselves, and that's what should guide us and keep us together. "Humanity" is the ultimate moral value.
Monday, May 07, 2007
Sunday, May 06, 2007
Thursday, April 26, 2007
coachella!
Backpack is ready: tent, sleeping bag, soft clothes for the desert, a white towel, a spreadsheet with the list of all bands and a bunch of mp3 to make choices on the flight to LA. Yay!
Sunday, April 15, 2007
Against the war
Answering my sister's requests, the result of a lazy Sunday afternoon: my friend and I went to see a "protest" against the war here in Seattle. When we finally got there, most people were already gone. The scattered crowd which remained there was enough for a somewhat funny video. Comments in Portuguese.
camera by me; video and sound edition by Hermann; comments by both of us
camera by me; video and sound edition by Hermann; comments by both of us
Sunday, April 01, 2007
Monday, March 19, 2007
Farewell
(free translation of Cecília Meireles' poem: Despedida. Suggestions for improvements are welcome.
to a friend who reminds me of her)
For me, and for you, and for all that
that is where others will never be,
I leave the angry sea and the peaceful sky:
I want loneliness.
My path has no signs nor landscapes.
And how do you know it? - they will ask me.
- By not having words, by not having images.
Not a single enemy and not a single brother.
What do you look for? - Everything. What do you want? - Nothing.
I travel alone with my heart.
I don't walk lost, but unfound.
I carry my way on my hand.
The memory flew off my face.
Flew my love, my imagination.
Maybe I'll die before the horizon.
Memory, love and the rest where to be found?
I leave my body here, between the sun and the earth.
(I kiss you, body of mine, all delusion!
Sad banner of a strange war...)
I want loneliness.
to a friend who reminds me of her)
For me, and for you, and for all that
that is where others will never be,
I leave the angry sea and the peaceful sky:
I want loneliness.
My path has no signs nor landscapes.
And how do you know it? - they will ask me.
- By not having words, by not having images.
Not a single enemy and not a single brother.
What do you look for? - Everything. What do you want? - Nothing.
I travel alone with my heart.
I don't walk lost, but unfound.
I carry my way on my hand.
The memory flew off my face.
Flew my love, my imagination.
Maybe I'll die before the horizon.
Memory, love and the rest where to be found?
I leave my body here, between the sun and the earth.
(I kiss you, body of mine, all delusion!
Sad banner of a strange war...)
I want loneliness.
Monday, March 12, 2007
Tuesday, March 06, 2007
Pratchett's notes on physics
I'm currently reading Terry Pratchett's Discworld. The mere fact that I hadn't done so in 25 years is an unforgivable character flaw. Anyway, aside from all other objects of his sarcasm, he seems to have a special warm place in his heart for advanced physics... So, here are a couple quotes from the books I've already read, to share the wisdom.
"While I'm still confused and uncertain, it's on a much higher plane, d'you see, and at least I know I'm bewildered about the really fundamental and important facts of the universe." Treatle nodded. "I hadn't looked at it like that," he said, "But you're absolutely right. He's really pushed back the boundaries of ignorance." They both savoured the strange warm glow of being much more ignorant than ordinary people, who were only ignorant of ordinary things.
[Terry Pratchett - Equal Rites]
The only thing known to go faster than ordinary light is monarchy, according to the philosopher Ly Tin Weedle. He reasoned like this: you can't have more than one king, and tradition demands that there is no gap between kings, so when a king dies the succession must therefore pass to the heir instantaneously. Presumably, he said, there must be some elementary particles -- kingons, or possibly queons -- that do this job, but of course succession sometimes fails if, in mid-flight, they strike an anti-particle, or republicon. His ambitious plans to use his discovery to send messages, involving the careful torturing of a small king in order to modulate the signal, were never fully expanded because, at that point, the bar closed.
[Terry Pratchett - Mort]
Friday, March 02, 2007
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)
