Primeira sugestão de blog em português!
Desta vez o destaque vai para Enquanto a chuva não para. A bela imagem à esquerda na página do blog pertence ao anime Serial experiment Lain
sexta-feira, janeiro 31, 2003
quinta-feira, janeiro 30, 2003
Well, I guess you guys have noticed that my image bank finaly colapsed after spending over a month doing alleged "changes" in their site. So I'm finally implementing the Lioness' idea and uploading my images to another blog. The changes may take a little while. So hold on and write to me if you notice I've forgotten to upload any images...
segunda-feira, janeiro 27, 2003
Just watched The Two Towers today! Far better than the first movie! The fight scenes were simply amazing!! And I can't stop thinking that Frodo's eyes looked abnormaly huge, as if they were trying to make him more similar to Gollum/Smeagol. By the way, that grey fellow moved somewhat like what my photographic ghosts are supposed to move. I'm gonna have to get my hands on those images for some analysis. One thing I didn't get was that whole transcendence thing that Gandalf goes through. And if he went from grey to white, then did Saruman undergo the same thing?
On other notes, I saw the Daredevil movie trailler. One things just seems like an amazingly idiotic faux pas: if he's blind, what's he doing perching on rooftops and looking down into the city? Batman and Spawn are usually placed in that somber position, but I always thought it was like watching things from higher ground, gaining some advantage. But it ain't much of an advantage if you can't see anything! One might argue he is listening to things. But come on, can he actually make anything out way up there?
On other notes, I saw the Daredevil movie trailler. One things just seems like an amazingly idiotic faux pas: if he's blind, what's he doing perching on rooftops and looking down into the city? Batman and Spawn are usually placed in that somber position, but I always thought it was like watching things from higher ground, gaining some advantage. But it ain't much of an advantage if you can't see anything! One might argue he is listening to things. But come on, can he actually make anything out way up there?
Some of the pics from the weekend at General Anarchy's:
This one was just an experiment in composition. The girl above is General Anarchy's girl. The one below is Amber Eyes.
![Does anyone else note a resemblance to a scene from Evangelion?]()
This is us going home. From left to right: Former Rebel, me, Amber Eyes and the Comediant
![Two guys didn't seem quite so happy about working the next day...]()
It was only after we went home that brother decided to dazzle everyone with his musical skills:
![If you ever get a chance to listen to him, don't miss it!]()
There are more, but I guess these where the ones worth showing...
This one was just an experiment in composition. The girl above is General Anarchy's girl. The one below is Amber Eyes.
This is us going home. From left to right: Former Rebel, me, Amber Eyes and the Comediant
It was only after we went home that brother decided to dazzle everyone with his musical skills:
There are more, but I guess these where the ones worth showing...
domingo, janeiro 26, 2003
FROM I comunicate with the sound of WHEEE!!:
Traditional Scorpio Traits
Determined and forceful
Emotional and intuitive
Powerful and passionate
Exciting and magnetic
On the dark side....
Jealous and resentful
Compulsive and obsessive
Secretive and obstinate
Scorpio! About Your Sign...
Scorpios are the most intense, profound, powerful characters in the zodiac. Even when they appear self-controlled and calm there is a seething intensity of emotional energy under the placid exterior. They are like the volcano not far under the surface of a calm sea, it may burst into eruption at any moment. But those of us who are particularly perceptive will be aware of the harnessed aggression, the immense forcefulness, magnetic intensity, and often strangely hypnotic personality under the tranquil, but watchful composure of Scorpio. In conventional social gatherings they are pleasant to be with, thoughtful in conversation, dignified, and reserved, yet affable and courteous; they sometimes possess penetrating eyes which make their shyer companions feel naked and defenseless before them (Ooh! I like that!!).
In their everyday behavior they give the appearance of being withdrawn from the center of activity, yet those who know them will recognize the watchfulness that is part of their character. They need great self-discipline, because they are able to recognize the qualities in themselves that make them different from other humans, and to know their utterly conventional natures can be used for great good, or great evil. Their tenacity and willpower are immense, their depth of character and passionate conviction overwhelming, yet they are deeply sensitive and easily moved by their emotions. Their sensitivity, together with a propensity for extreme likes and dislikes make them easily hurt, quick to detect insult or injury to themselves (often when none is intended) and easily aroused to ferocious anger. This may express itself in such destructive speech or action that they make lifelong enemies by their outspokenness, for they find it difficult not to be overly critical of anything or anyone to whom they take a dislike.
They can harness their abundant energy constructively, tempering their self-confidence with shrewdness and their ambition with magnanimity toward others provided they like them. They relate to fellow workers only as leaders and can be blunt to those they dislike to the point of cruelty. In fact they are not above expressing vindictiveness in deliberate cruelty. They are too demanding, too unforgiving of faults in others, perhaps because they are not aware of the shortcomings within themselves, and extravagantly express their self-disgust in unreasonable resentment against their fellows. They do, however, make excellent friends, provided that their companions do nothing to impugn the honor of which Scorpios are very jealous. Part of the negative side of the Scorpio nature is a tendency to discard friends once they cease to be useful, but the decent native is aware of, and fights this tendency.
They are fortunate in that their strong reasoning powers are tempered with imagination and intuition (looks like I messed out on the intuition part...), and these gifts, together with critical perception and analytical capacity, can enable the Scorpions to penetrate to profundities beyond the average. They have a better chance of becoming geniuses than the natives of any other sign.But charismatic "twice-born" characters such as they can sink into the extremes of depravity if they take the wrong path, and the intensity of their nature exaggerates their harmful tendencies into vices far greater than the normal. Rebelliousness against all conventions, political extremism to the point where hatred of the Establishment makes them utterly unscrupulous terrorists. Brooding resentment, aggressive and sadistic brutality, total arrogance, morbid jealousy, extreme volatility of temperament, these are some of their vices. At the other extreme is the procrastinator, the man or woman who is capable of so much that they do nothing and become indolent and self-indulgent, requiring extravagant praise and flattery from those whom they make their cronies.
Being so gifted, they can find fulfillment in many employments. Their inner intensity can result in the ice-cold self-control and detachment of the surgeon, the concentration of the research scientist, and the heroism of the soldier. Any profession in which analysis, investigation, research, dealing with practicalities, and the solving of mysteries are relevant, can appeal to them. So police and detective work, espionage and counterespionage, the law, physics or psychology may attract them, and they can become masters of the written and spoken word. They may be most persuasive orators and find fulfillment as diplomats or preachers and, if they make the Church their profession, their inner intensity can express itself in the spiritual fervor of the mystic or the thaumaturgy.
Scorpio is the symbol of sex and Scorpios are passionate lovers, the most sensually energetic of all the signs. For them, union with the beloved is a sacrament, an "outward and visible sign of an inward and spiritual grace.". Their overriding urge in loving is to use their power to penetrate beyond themselves and to lose themselves sexually in their partners in an almost mystical ecstasy, thus discovering the meaning of that union which is greater than individuality, and is a marriage of the spirit as well as of flesh. They are thus capable of the greatest heights of passionate transport, but debauchery and perversion are always dangers, and Scorpios can become sadistic monsters of sensuality and eroticism. Their feelings are so intense that even when their love is of the highest, and most idealistic kind, they are nevertheless frequently protagonists in tragic, even violent romances, "star-crossed lovers".
Possible Health Concerns...
Scorpio governs the pelvis and reproductive and urinary systems and its subjects are said to be prone to ailments of the liver and kidneys, stones and gravel in the bladder or genitals, and other genital ills such as priapism. Abscesses, boils, carbuncles, fistulas, piles, ruptures and ulcers may also affect the Scorpions.
LIKES
Truth
Hidden Causes
Being involved
Work That is Meaningful
Being Persuasive
DISLIKES
Being Given Only Surface data
Taken Advantage of
Demeaning Jobs
Shallow Relationships
Flattery and Flattering
PROBLEMS THAT MAY ARISE FOR YOU, AND THEIR SOLUTIONS
As with all sun signs, we all have unique traits to our personalities. When these traits are suppressed, or unrealized, problems will arise. However, with astrology we can examine the problem and assess the proper solution based on the sun sign characteristics. As a Scorpio you may see things below that really strike home. Try the solution, you most likely will be amazed at the results. If you find yourself on the receiving end of the negatives below, it is because you are failing to express the positive.
Problem: Suffering from an inferior complex where you feel self disgust and are disdainful of help from others.
Solution: You should try to admit that others, as well as yourself, have weakness and then practice forgiving those weaknesses until you notice them becoming less and less. Unbend and accept that you can be helped in your problems.
Problem: After you get everyone to agree with you and you get your own way, you are still not satisfied with the results.
Solution: Looking deeply within will show you that: having reached the point where you have nothing more to want for in a given situation you then realize just what you were really after. Look within first.
Problem: Disruptive marital relations or a breakup with a loved one.
Solution: You should try not to be scornful of what you perceive as a shortcoming in your partners personality and soften up your rigid, unbending attitude.
Problem: The peers in your group begin to avoid you, or drift away when you walk up.
Solution: If you feel persecuted and put upon you will express it in conversation, this causes people to be 'turned off' of you so try to change your attitude or, guard what you say.
Traditional Scorpio Traits
Determined and forceful
Emotional and intuitive
Powerful and passionate
Exciting and magnetic
On the dark side....
Jealous and resentful
Compulsive and obsessive
Secretive and obstinate
Scorpio! About Your Sign...
Scorpios are the most intense, profound, powerful characters in the zodiac. Even when they appear self-controlled and calm there is a seething intensity of emotional energy under the placid exterior. They are like the volcano not far under the surface of a calm sea, it may burst into eruption at any moment. But those of us who are particularly perceptive will be aware of the harnessed aggression, the immense forcefulness, magnetic intensity, and often strangely hypnotic personality under the tranquil, but watchful composure of Scorpio. In conventional social gatherings they are pleasant to be with, thoughtful in conversation, dignified, and reserved, yet affable and courteous; they sometimes possess penetrating eyes which make their shyer companions feel naked and defenseless before them (Ooh! I like that!!).
In their everyday behavior they give the appearance of being withdrawn from the center of activity, yet those who know them will recognize the watchfulness that is part of their character. They need great self-discipline, because they are able to recognize the qualities in themselves that make them different from other humans, and to know their utterly conventional natures can be used for great good, or great evil. Their tenacity and willpower are immense, their depth of character and passionate conviction overwhelming, yet they are deeply sensitive and easily moved by their emotions. Their sensitivity, together with a propensity for extreme likes and dislikes make them easily hurt, quick to detect insult or injury to themselves (often when none is intended) and easily aroused to ferocious anger. This may express itself in such destructive speech or action that they make lifelong enemies by their outspokenness, for they find it difficult not to be overly critical of anything or anyone to whom they take a dislike.
They can harness their abundant energy constructively, tempering their self-confidence with shrewdness and their ambition with magnanimity toward others provided they like them. They relate to fellow workers only as leaders and can be blunt to those they dislike to the point of cruelty. In fact they are not above expressing vindictiveness in deliberate cruelty. They are too demanding, too unforgiving of faults in others, perhaps because they are not aware of the shortcomings within themselves, and extravagantly express their self-disgust in unreasonable resentment against their fellows. They do, however, make excellent friends, provided that their companions do nothing to impugn the honor of which Scorpios are very jealous. Part of the negative side of the Scorpio nature is a tendency to discard friends once they cease to be useful, but the decent native is aware of, and fights this tendency.
They are fortunate in that their strong reasoning powers are tempered with imagination and intuition (looks like I messed out on the intuition part...), and these gifts, together with critical perception and analytical capacity, can enable the Scorpions to penetrate to profundities beyond the average. They have a better chance of becoming geniuses than the natives of any other sign.But charismatic "twice-born" characters such as they can sink into the extremes of depravity if they take the wrong path, and the intensity of their nature exaggerates their harmful tendencies into vices far greater than the normal. Rebelliousness against all conventions, political extremism to the point where hatred of the Establishment makes them utterly unscrupulous terrorists. Brooding resentment, aggressive and sadistic brutality, total arrogance, morbid jealousy, extreme volatility of temperament, these are some of their vices. At the other extreme is the procrastinator, the man or woman who is capable of so much that they do nothing and become indolent and self-indulgent, requiring extravagant praise and flattery from those whom they make their cronies.
Being so gifted, they can find fulfillment in many employments. Their inner intensity can result in the ice-cold self-control and detachment of the surgeon, the concentration of the research scientist, and the heroism of the soldier. Any profession in which analysis, investigation, research, dealing with practicalities, and the solving of mysteries are relevant, can appeal to them. So police and detective work, espionage and counterespionage, the law, physics or psychology may attract them, and they can become masters of the written and spoken word. They may be most persuasive orators and find fulfillment as diplomats or preachers and, if they make the Church their profession, their inner intensity can express itself in the spiritual fervor of the mystic or the thaumaturgy.
Scorpio is the symbol of sex and Scorpios are passionate lovers, the most sensually energetic of all the signs. For them, union with the beloved is a sacrament, an "outward and visible sign of an inward and spiritual grace.". Their overriding urge in loving is to use their power to penetrate beyond themselves and to lose themselves sexually in their partners in an almost mystical ecstasy, thus discovering the meaning of that union which is greater than individuality, and is a marriage of the spirit as well as of flesh. They are thus capable of the greatest heights of passionate transport, but debauchery and perversion are always dangers, and Scorpios can become sadistic monsters of sensuality and eroticism. Their feelings are so intense that even when their love is of the highest, and most idealistic kind, they are nevertheless frequently protagonists in tragic, even violent romances, "star-crossed lovers".
Possible Health Concerns...
Scorpio governs the pelvis and reproductive and urinary systems and its subjects are said to be prone to ailments of the liver and kidneys, stones and gravel in the bladder or genitals, and other genital ills such as priapism. Abscesses, boils, carbuncles, fistulas, piles, ruptures and ulcers may also affect the Scorpions.
LIKES
Truth
Hidden Causes
Being involved
Work That is Meaningful
Being Persuasive
DISLIKES
Being Given Only Surface data
Taken Advantage of
Demeaning Jobs
Shallow Relationships
Flattery and Flattering
PROBLEMS THAT MAY ARISE FOR YOU, AND THEIR SOLUTIONS
As with all sun signs, we all have unique traits to our personalities. When these traits are suppressed, or unrealized, problems will arise. However, with astrology we can examine the problem and assess the proper solution based on the sun sign characteristics. As a Scorpio you may see things below that really strike home. Try the solution, you most likely will be amazed at the results. If you find yourself on the receiving end of the negatives below, it is because you are failing to express the positive.
Problem: Suffering from an inferior complex where you feel self disgust and are disdainful of help from others.
Solution: You should try to admit that others, as well as yourself, have weakness and then practice forgiving those weaknesses until you notice them becoming less and less. Unbend and accept that you can be helped in your problems.
Problem: After you get everyone to agree with you and you get your own way, you are still not satisfied with the results.
Solution: Looking deeply within will show you that: having reached the point where you have nothing more to want for in a given situation you then realize just what you were really after. Look within first.
Problem: Disruptive marital relations or a breakup with a loved one.
Solution: You should try not to be scornful of what you perceive as a shortcoming in your partners personality and soften up your rigid, unbending attitude.
Problem: The peers in your group begin to avoid you, or drift away when you walk up.
Solution: If you feel persecuted and put upon you will express it in conversation, this causes people to be 'turned off' of you so try to change your attitude or, guard what you say.
sábado, janeiro 25, 2003
FLAGRAS DA ROTINA NO BARRACÃO:
Momento "Os Normais": No meio do caminho para o lugar, a Tink resolve mudar de roupa no carro para colocar algo mais "sujável" (eu vou com a minha fiel calça de pintura!). Ela no meio do contorcionismo e eu descrevendo para ela o tipo de caminhoneiro tarado que, de acordo com a Lei de Murphy, deveria estar passando do lado do meu carro naquele momento...
Momento "The things people say":
-"E ela ainda diz que é virgem..."- dito pela Methodless, referindo-se à Sandy
-" Ela, virgem!? Virgem santíssima, que buraco!" - retrucado por um dos nossos colegas de trabalho.
Só um momento imbecil mesmo...: Nós três e o rapaz mencionado acima dançando aquela infernal música do Rouge.
E toca acidente de trabalho...
-Eu já estou com duas bolhas da pistola de cola quente. A Tink tem mais duas. O rapaz acima, sabe Deus como, ganhou uma na boca.
-Há um dos rapazes concertando goteiras no teto com uma solda. Volta e meia ele toma um choque da fiação e berra lá de cima de um jeito muito característico: -"FILHA DA P*TA!"
-A Methodless fica com a tesoura entre os dedos enquanto usa a pistola de cola quente. Sentindo a cola queimar-lhe o dedo, ela tira a mão rapidamente e enfia a tesoura no ombro, fazendo um furo minúsculo, que no entanto pega uma veia: garota sangrando pelo barracão inteiro.
Momento "Os Normais": No meio do caminho para o lugar, a Tink resolve mudar de roupa no carro para colocar algo mais "sujável" (eu vou com a minha fiel calça de pintura!). Ela no meio do contorcionismo e eu descrevendo para ela o tipo de caminhoneiro tarado que, de acordo com a Lei de Murphy, deveria estar passando do lado do meu carro naquele momento...
Momento "The things people say":
-"E ela ainda diz que é virgem..."- dito pela Methodless, referindo-se à Sandy
-" Ela, virgem!? Virgem santíssima, que buraco!" - retrucado por um dos nossos colegas de trabalho.
Só um momento imbecil mesmo...: Nós três e o rapaz mencionado acima dançando aquela infernal música do Rouge.
E toca acidente de trabalho...
-Eu já estou com duas bolhas da pistola de cola quente. A Tink tem mais duas. O rapaz acima, sabe Deus como, ganhou uma na boca.
-Há um dos rapazes concertando goteiras no teto com uma solda. Volta e meia ele toma um choque da fiação e berra lá de cima de um jeito muito característico: -"FILHA DA P*TA!"
-A Methodless fica com a tesoura entre os dedos enquanto usa a pistola de cola quente. Sentindo a cola queimar-lhe o dedo, ela tira a mão rapidamente e enfia a tesoura no ombro, fazendo um furo minúsculo, que no entanto pega uma veia: garota sangrando pelo barracão inteiro.
Já fazem duas semanas que estou trabalhando na produção de carros alegóricos da Águia de Ouro, escola de samba situada na Pompéia. É por isso que não tenho escrito muito. O trabalho e o circo detonam grande parte das minhas energias. Em compensação, os dias têm sido muito divertidos.
Na verdade, tudo começou quando a diretoria da Águia de Ouro entrou em contato com a fundação do meu curso de artes e propôs a parceria na produção dos carros (produção, não na concepção...). Os diretores da fundação gostaram da idéia e falaram com o professor de cenografia, que chamou minha turma (ou pelo menos quem ele conseguiu achar...) para participar. Muitos estavam viajado e vários outros nem se interessaram. Alguns dignaram-se a descer do patamar de riquinhos e pelo menos visitarem a escola. Obviamente, eles acharam que a coisa era muito ralé para eles. No fim, sobramos eu, a Methodless e a Tinkerbell entrando de penetra. Na primeira visita, viemos acompanhados por mais gente. O pátio da escola fica debaixo do viaduto da Pompéia (literalmente debaixo da ponte...). É assombroso o tamanho do estabelecimento que eles conseguiram construir ali, entre as colunas da ponte e o musgo que cresce com a infiltração. Depois de muita confusão e gente relativamente mal informada, fomos direcionados para o lugar certo: um barracão meio precário com muita lama, goteiras e cachorros (dos quais a Tink morre de medo), mas que abrigava maravilhas. Falo sério: você acha que aqueles carros são grandes mas eles são maiores ainda! Cheguei meio preconceituoso achando que o pessoal ia receber-nos como um bando de riquinhos. Mas eles foram incríveis e em pouco tempo já estávamos um tirando sarro do outro no meio do trabalho. Fazemos todo tipo de pequenas coisinhas, cuidamos de adereços, até nos dão espaço para usar a criatividade aqui e ali. De quebra. aprendemos vários pequenos macetes que com certeza ajudarão no futuro (tá, isso tá parecendo anúncio de faculdade...).
Remuneração? Nada... E é por isso que os mais metidos a riquinhos não quizeram participar. Vai rolar um certificado de estágio em cenografia e eu francamente não tenho idéia de como vamos fazer com a Tink, que é de outra faculdade. Mas isso não tem lá tanta importância. Ganhamos direito a desfilar também! Na faixa! No mais, vale pela diversâo!
Na verdade, tudo começou quando a diretoria da Águia de Ouro entrou em contato com a fundação do meu curso de artes e propôs a parceria na produção dos carros (produção, não na concepção...). Os diretores da fundação gostaram da idéia e falaram com o professor de cenografia, que chamou minha turma (ou pelo menos quem ele conseguiu achar...) para participar. Muitos estavam viajado e vários outros nem se interessaram. Alguns dignaram-se a descer do patamar de riquinhos e pelo menos visitarem a escola. Obviamente, eles acharam que a coisa era muito ralé para eles. No fim, sobramos eu, a Methodless e a Tinkerbell entrando de penetra. Na primeira visita, viemos acompanhados por mais gente. O pátio da escola fica debaixo do viaduto da Pompéia (literalmente debaixo da ponte...). É assombroso o tamanho do estabelecimento que eles conseguiram construir ali, entre as colunas da ponte e o musgo que cresce com a infiltração. Depois de muita confusão e gente relativamente mal informada, fomos direcionados para o lugar certo: um barracão meio precário com muita lama, goteiras e cachorros (dos quais a Tink morre de medo), mas que abrigava maravilhas. Falo sério: você acha que aqueles carros são grandes mas eles são maiores ainda! Cheguei meio preconceituoso achando que o pessoal ia receber-nos como um bando de riquinhos. Mas eles foram incríveis e em pouco tempo já estávamos um tirando sarro do outro no meio do trabalho. Fazemos todo tipo de pequenas coisinhas, cuidamos de adereços, até nos dão espaço para usar a criatividade aqui e ali. De quebra. aprendemos vários pequenos macetes que com certeza ajudarão no futuro (tá, isso tá parecendo anúncio de faculdade...).
Remuneração? Nada... E é por isso que os mais metidos a riquinhos não quizeram participar. Vai rolar um certificado de estágio em cenografia e eu francamente não tenho idéia de como vamos fazer com a Tink, que é de outra faculdade. Mas isso não tem lá tanta importância. Ganhamos direito a desfilar também! Na faixa! No mais, vale pela diversâo!
Surreal revelations VII:
(Not the one I had promised, Thelus... Still gotta write that one down some day)
We live in a system fuelled by negative charges. Think about it: almost every single driving emotion is related to hatred, jealousy, vengeance, spite. The desire to succeed in the personal career is mostly conected to our own need to prove we are worthy. Not a desire to see society prosper. If you are a religious fellow, your motives are generaly your own selfish salvation and not the welfare of mankind. We expect to strive for the best car, the best home, the best partner. To prove we are better lovers than anyone else, smarter than anyone else, better at anything. Competition. It seems to be the ultimate driving force. But this necessarily means there must be winners and loosers. And to be a winner you must be above all the others. Most of the times you are expected to destroy all others. Specially nowadays, the meaner you are, the "cooler" you become.
Positive charges are either too intimate or too stupid. Do you do things out of love? Women sometimes do a lot. And love is the only positive driving force I can think of. But it's a driving force between two people. Not a collective thing. And then again, we are constantly being dared to remain independant, to avoid being controlled by some supposedly opportunistic lover. We grow affraid of love. Do you do things out of friendship? Sometimes. But you still compete with your friends to see who is the biggest macho. Who is the leader of the pack. And I'm not talking about men only...
Have we become a society of anti-heroes?
(Not the one I had promised, Thelus... Still gotta write that one down some day)
We live in a system fuelled by negative charges. Think about it: almost every single driving emotion is related to hatred, jealousy, vengeance, spite. The desire to succeed in the personal career is mostly conected to our own need to prove we are worthy. Not a desire to see society prosper. If you are a religious fellow, your motives are generaly your own selfish salvation and not the welfare of mankind. We expect to strive for the best car, the best home, the best partner. To prove we are better lovers than anyone else, smarter than anyone else, better at anything. Competition. It seems to be the ultimate driving force. But this necessarily means there must be winners and loosers. And to be a winner you must be above all the others. Most of the times you are expected to destroy all others. Specially nowadays, the meaner you are, the "cooler" you become.
Positive charges are either too intimate or too stupid. Do you do things out of love? Women sometimes do a lot. And love is the only positive driving force I can think of. But it's a driving force between two people. Not a collective thing. And then again, we are constantly being dared to remain independant, to avoid being controlled by some supposedly opportunistic lover. We grow affraid of love. Do you do things out of friendship? Sometimes. But you still compete with your friends to see who is the biggest macho. Who is the leader of the pack. And I'm not talking about men only...
Have we become a society of anti-heroes?
quarta-feira, janeiro 22, 2003
Today was the third day at the circus. And finally we have begun doing interesting stuff. The first couple of days were more of an aquaintance thing.
"So, what's all this circus business?"
Imagine a huge playground filled with fun rides and toys. Got it? Now kick it up a knotch to a harder level. That's basically it. We go in at around seven thirty every night, we do half an hour of strectching (very important!) and warming up and some ten minutes of a series of tumbling and jumping. Then the "teachers" set us free to try any activity we want. The general feeling is that of being in a playground and doing all the physical activity you did when you were a kid and eventualy quit to "evolve" into more "grown-up" activities because you thought playgrounds were childish. Remember all those physical atributes you never exercised again ever since you were ten years old? Like balance, strength, stamina, momentum control, speed, dexterity, flexibility... I figured out my balance is below the average for circus activities. This means no tight rope for me and none of those one-wheeled bycicle thingies. I do have a developed momentum control (from diving courses I took a long way back...) which allows me to skip simple jumps and go into sommersaults and stuff. Also, my hyperflexibility helps in a number of things and the strength to lift one's own weight is very important. Besides the floor gymnastics, I've taken lesson in trampoline (Pan does fly!!!), rope climbing and just a tiny bit of juggling. Tink, on the other hand, seems to have an admirable sense of balance. She's almost mastered those unicycles (I think that's the name) and had a few lessons in walking the tight rope. She just has a little problem with momentum, which usualy makes her quit the tumbling stuff before sommersaults.
We get home completely mauled and worn out, but it's so much fun we don't even notice it. Besides, I've had the best sleep in years!!
"So, what's all this circus business?"
Imagine a huge playground filled with fun rides and toys. Got it? Now kick it up a knotch to a harder level. That's basically it. We go in at around seven thirty every night, we do half an hour of strectching (very important!) and warming up and some ten minutes of a series of tumbling and jumping. Then the "teachers" set us free to try any activity we want. The general feeling is that of being in a playground and doing all the physical activity you did when you were a kid and eventualy quit to "evolve" into more "grown-up" activities because you thought playgrounds were childish. Remember all those physical atributes you never exercised again ever since you were ten years old? Like balance, strength, stamina, momentum control, speed, dexterity, flexibility... I figured out my balance is below the average for circus activities. This means no tight rope for me and none of those one-wheeled bycicle thingies. I do have a developed momentum control (from diving courses I took a long way back...) which allows me to skip simple jumps and go into sommersaults and stuff. Also, my hyperflexibility helps in a number of things and the strength to lift one's own weight is very important. Besides the floor gymnastics, I've taken lesson in trampoline (Pan does fly!!!), rope climbing and just a tiny bit of juggling. Tink, on the other hand, seems to have an admirable sense of balance. She's almost mastered those unicycles (I think that's the name) and had a few lessons in walking the tight rope. She just has a little problem with momentum, which usualy makes her quit the tumbling stuff before sommersaults.
We get home completely mauled and worn out, but it's so much fun we don't even notice it. Besides, I've had the best sleep in years!!
segunda-feira, janeiro 20, 2003
BRIEF SUMMARY OF THE WEEKEND AT GENERAL ANARCHY'S:
Missing certain specific people terribly.
Going from the driver's seat of my car directly into the pool (as I always do...)
Pretending the presence of Amber Eyes isn't slightly bothering.
Paying just twenty bucks for the whole weekend and making this one of the cheapest stays ever...
Getting slightly drunk... Just slightly.
Fighting a guy who's twice my size inside the pool for over an hour untill I quit due to a drunk upset stomach.
Feeling definitely bothered as that same guy ends the night with Amber Eyes. Don't ask why...
Watching Pocahontas II due to a sudden collective attack of boredom.
Explaining how to ride waves using applied physics... And not being entirely understood. Damn, I need pen and paper!
Drawing some girl who fell asleep in the couch (as I always do...)
Having Amber Eyes still preferring to spend the day with me instead of my oversized opponent.
Having a serious chat with the Former Rebel about sex, suicide and other hush-hush subjects.
A useless cell phone that takes calls but won't let me make any...
Leaving too soon, and yet too late.
Taking the hardest way with a car that definitely hasn't got enough torque.
Getting lost.
Arriving too late for my appointment.
Taking Tink for a quick dinner.
Yep... That was it... sort of. Note that this year we didn't do the traditional midnight-butt-naked-swimming we usually do. But they'll be there all week and it'll probably happen.
Missing certain specific people terribly.
Going from the driver's seat of my car directly into the pool (as I always do...)
Pretending the presence of Amber Eyes isn't slightly bothering.
Paying just twenty bucks for the whole weekend and making this one of the cheapest stays ever...
Getting slightly drunk... Just slightly.
Fighting a guy who's twice my size inside the pool for over an hour untill I quit due to a drunk upset stomach.
Feeling definitely bothered as that same guy ends the night with Amber Eyes. Don't ask why...
Watching Pocahontas II due to a sudden collective attack of boredom.
Explaining how to ride waves using applied physics... And not being entirely understood. Damn, I need pen and paper!
Drawing some girl who fell asleep in the couch (as I always do...)
Having Amber Eyes still preferring to spend the day with me instead of my oversized opponent.
Having a serious chat with the Former Rebel about sex, suicide and other hush-hush subjects.
A useless cell phone that takes calls but won't let me make any...
Leaving too soon, and yet too late.
Taking the hardest way with a car that definitely hasn't got enough torque.
Getting lost.
Arriving too late for my appointment.
Taking Tink for a quick dinner.
Yep... That was it... sort of. Note that this year we didn't do the traditional midnight-butt-naked-swimming we usually do. But they'll be there all week and it'll probably happen.
sábado, janeiro 18, 2003
Dadaist revelation V:
Drugs have a way of incorporating to your sistem for a while. I`ve heard that traces of marijuana stay on your bloodstream several days after you smoke it. Other drugs can stay on your bloodstream for a much longer time. And it`s somewhat easy to spot a person who`s suffering the after-effects of such drugs. It`s in the songs they listen to. No matter how they try to deny it.
Drugs have a way of incorporating to your sistem for a while. I`ve heard that traces of marijuana stay on your bloodstream several days after you smoke it. Other drugs can stay on your bloodstream for a much longer time. And it`s somewhat easy to spot a person who`s suffering the after-effects of such drugs. It`s in the songs they listen to. No matter how they try to deny it.
sexta-feira, janeiro 17, 2003
Eu vou dar o meu desprezo
A você que me ensinou
Que a tristeza é uma maneira
Da gente se salvar depois
Cazuza - Um trem para as estrelas
Nunca pensei muito nessa frase... Mas nesses dias me peguei pensando se ele não se refere a Deus ou Jesus, ou à religião católica. Afinal, é do catolicismo essa idéia de que os que sofrem nesse mundo serão recompensados no "reino da vida eterna". E é mais ou menos isso que ele diz: a tristeza é uma maneira da gente se salvar depois. Sofra agora para pagar sua felicidade futura.
Acho que a idéia por trás dessa doutrina era na verdade fazer com que os menos afortunados se resignassem e se conformassem com a vida miserável que tinham. Mas eventualmente acabou sendo compreendida como uma espécie de condição para a salvação. De qualquer forma, acho meio triste que pessoas não vivam esta vida por causa de algo prometido em uma suposta outra vida que eles nem sabem se existe...
A você que me ensinou
Que a tristeza é uma maneira
Da gente se salvar depois
Cazuza - Um trem para as estrelas
Nunca pensei muito nessa frase... Mas nesses dias me peguei pensando se ele não se refere a Deus ou Jesus, ou à religião católica. Afinal, é do catolicismo essa idéia de que os que sofrem nesse mundo serão recompensados no "reino da vida eterna". E é mais ou menos isso que ele diz: a tristeza é uma maneira da gente se salvar depois. Sofra agora para pagar sua felicidade futura.
Acho que a idéia por trás dessa doutrina era na verdade fazer com que os menos afortunados se resignassem e se conformassem com a vida miserável que tinham. Mas eventualmente acabou sendo compreendida como uma espécie de condição para a salvação. De qualquer forma, acho meio triste que pessoas não vivam esta vida por causa de algo prometido em uma suposta outra vida que eles nem sabem se existe...
quinta-feira, janeiro 16, 2003
And on latest news, Pan and Tink have joined the circus!!
We`ll be taking a one month course starting next week. No, we're not planning on making a career out of this. It's just for fun!
It`s about time I did some of this crazy stuff I always wanted to do...
I`ll fill you in on it when we start the whole thing.
We`ll be taking a one month course starting next week. No, we're not planning on making a career out of this. It's just for fun!
It`s about time I did some of this crazy stuff I always wanted to do...
I`ll fill you in on it when we start the whole thing.
quarta-feira, janeiro 15, 2003
Abril Despedaçado
Os fãs da estética de passagens mais oníricas de Evangelion definitivamente irão gostar deste filme! A direção de arte prima pela simplicidade, os poucos mas muito significativos objetos em cena e as metáforas contidas em cada ação, cada um dos poucos objetos, cada pessoa. Este é um filme para ser digerido lentamente ao longo dos dias seguintes ao sabor do silêncio ou do murmurar da chuva.
Quem ainda não viu, não leia:
Fiquei pensando muito sobre as coisas, as cenas. Fica claro que, naquele nada, a rotina de fazer rapadura da família do protagonista assemelha-se ao círculo vicioso de miséria no qual eles estão metidos. E o símbolo maior disso tudo é a máquina usada para estrair o caldo da cana. Sua estrutura principal é um grande círculo. Os bois andam em círculo e, como dito pelo Pacu (ou Menino), andam, andam e não saem do lugar. O diretor ainda reforça a idéia filmando as cenas daquela máquina sempre da mesma maneira, com os mesmos ângulos de câmera. Na máquina, cada membro da família ocupa sempre o mesmo lugar. A única maneira de mudar de posto é se alguém faltar. E de certa forma isso retrata a própria família: é sempre o filho mais velho que irá defender a honra da família. E quando este morre, outro torna-se o filho mais velho e ocupa seu lugar. Ao mesmo tempo, há outro círculo descrito por Clara e seu padrinho, no circo itinerante. Eles percorrem as mesmas cidades todos os anos. Acho que a melhor cena para perceber este movimento circular é quando o Menino chama seu irmão Tonho e aponta-lhe o fato de que os bois estão andando no círculos da máquina sozinhos, sem precisarem ser açoitados pelo pai. São como cada pessoa metida no círculo de ignorância e miséria: movidos pela inércia, sem qualquer racionalidade. Foram ensinados e adestrados para seguir aquele mesmo caminho.
Enquanto isso, há outro movimento recorrente no filme: o movimento pendular. Movimento que deixa clara a existência de dois opostos. Seu maior símbolo no filme é o balanço na árvore. A filmagem escolhida pelo diretor nos faz ver, com o balançar do Menino ou de Tonho, ora o céu azul, ora a terra ocre. Dois opostos. Enquanto isso, a vingança descreve o mesmo movimento pendular, cabendo a cada família alternadamente.
De resto, toda a estética é simples. Até a camisa manchada de sangue balançando ao vento em um varal onde não há outras roupas sem sentido. Apenas o necessário para filmar uma história de gente que não tem quase nada.
Acho que escrever sobre o resto seria estragar mais ainda o que eu já estraguei explicando estas poucas coisas deste jeito. É um filme pra ser digerido lentamente.
Apenas não entendi a risada do pai e porque Tonho e o Menino ficam sérios ao perceber o pai rindo logo após Tonho cair do balanço... Um pensamento esquizótipo me passa pela cabeça de que talvez o pai visse uma saída para o pêndulo de vingança em uma eventual morte acidental do filho... Não. Não é isso. Quem sabe seria uma risada de alívio ao ver que aquele que deve zelar pela honra da família ainda está vivo... Sei lá. Idéias?
terça-feira, janeiro 14, 2003
Upon requests, I'm posting this again, on an updated version. Original version dates 7/19/2002
Well, since I couldn´t get around HTML codes to create a whole new page for these names, I´ll just have to post them here.... And now, the moment you´ve all been waiting for...
Introducing my Enciclopaedia of Blog Names!
yay...
==================
Amber Eyes: I guess the passage of my blog where she appears for the first time (5/19/2002) holds the reason for the name. She was of asian ancestry, but she had deeply western amber eyes. Must have some european in the family... She was a friend of Sis who was intended to be a blind date for Alex. But hings didn't quite work that way...
Azrael, Marcus, Smith and the beast: The Council. Something like a conscience. First there was Azrael, the one. The vampire. He was the emotional side. Born in the time I was a pseudo-goth. The one who showed me the world and made me want to depict it somehow. Then came Marcus, the true. The smoker. He was a rational side. So rational that at times he would set aside the humane aspect of things. Brutaly cruel, cynical, but true. Often compared to my evil side. But at times Azrael has been more cruel. Marcus is simply pure reason. Born in 98, during one of my darkest phases. In the quarrel between emotion and reason, Charley was born. We was the spirit of teenage. The one to settle scores. But eventually he was assimilated and consumed by me: I became Charley. And then he was deleted. With time came the beast. I had thought he was Azrael evolved. But he was something else. The beast is a human before culture. The animal side. Before language: so he does not speak, he barely comunicates. Hence he has no name. Born in the woods at grandmother´s farm a couple of years back. Finally, to settle scores and aid in my personal growth, Smith joined us. Smith, the honored. The ethical side. Reason, emotion or instinct have nothing to do with it. All that matters is what is the "right thing to do".
Big Mama: In our high-school gang, she seemed to be the most down-to-earth of the girls. She took care of us all, she cared for us all. She was like a mother. But you could talk of intimate subjects with her... And about sex, obviously. 'Cause it always ends in sex when you´re among teenagers...
Blonde Muse: To be a muse... Every artist has a muse every now and then. And for each artist it has to do with a specific characteristic. In my case, it's the form. She has a pretty face and very smooth moves. As if she was always posing for something. It´s hard to catch her out of form. Although I may say she´s not very photogenic in pictures where she actually knows she´s being photographed... So usually I prefer to catch her off guard.
Blue-eyed Teddy Bear: A dearest friend of mine. She has icy blue eyes and she just makes you want to hug her like a teddy bear. She seems to inspire warmth and comfort, even though she tends to be very emotional. But that just makes us like her even more!
Buffy: Alex's girl. I seem to find some similarity between her and Sarah Michele Gellar. But seldom do people agree with me when it comes to similarities...
Comediant: The funniest of the bunch, always comming up with witty remarks and slapstick humour. His humour and dazed expressions kinda remind me of Kramer from Seinfeld...
Foreign Elf: Well, she´s the only one in the blog who doesn´t live around here. And she is quite fond of Lord of the Rings. And since she´s so tall and cute and everything, just like an elf, it makes the perfect name for her...
Former Rebel: He spent most of his teenage as a rebel, wearing leather jackets, dreaming of having a Harley and listening to rock. Back in those days, he wore his har long and his attitude mean. You know that song from Steppenwolf? That was him... But then he ventured into the lawyering world and had to trim that hair short and trade the leather for linen. Nowadays he poses as a wolf in sheep's clothing, looking like an elegant gentleman as he hits the bars for women after the job...
General Anarchy: The perfect name. He enrolled in the army a while back. Still, he has this way of bringing anarchy to every aspect of his life. He disobeys any authority for the pleasure of it and is eager to find each authority's limits, so he can manage around them, outside of their jurisdiction.
Hyperactive / Alex: He´s the kind of guy who would show up at home and walk directly from the door to my brother´s piano. He´d open it, play half a song and get up, leaving it open, to turn the computer on. He would then start every game you have, but exit the program in the first two minutes. Then he´d get up from the computer, leaving it turned on, and seek something to eat in the kitchen. He never stops. God knows how I can keep up with him... The second name, Alex, recalls one of the books I wrote and never finished: Child of the Night. From the time I was into vapires. One of the characters was inspired on him. We actually write e-mails to each other with our characters´ names...
Lioness: She´s the most expressive presence in my blog. We study at the university toghether. The name comes from her own theory that there are four groups of people: Lionesses, Princesses, Good Men and Inferior Men. Good Men and Princesses are commonly associated to the looser type. They are the nice people, but also the inhibited ones. The ones who´ll get shy dealing with certain aspects, who won´t deal with taboo subjects. Lionesses and Inferior Men are the popular type. People who´ll usually get what they want no matter the means to get it. People who´ll talk about anything comfortably and acknowledge the evil in the world, knowing how to use it to their own advantage. The kind of people averyone wants to be once in a while. There´s a dynamic between the four types. Good Men will drool over Lionesses, who´ll in turn crave Inferior Men, who usually seduce Princesses because Princesses are cute and controllable. My personal experience says that Princesses are also attracted to Inferior Men. But only until they´ve been hurt enough to learn they can´t trust them. I´ll stop here. The Lioness might attempt to explain this better herself.
Little Wonder: It´s obviously got to do with her height. She´s terribly short. And it seems to be one of her most beautiful qualities, I guess. But the most striking thing about her are her eyes. Clear hazel eyes that seem to pierce through almost anything. Comic strip fans would recognize in those eyes the look of evil women. But I can asure she´s the kindest of persons. Even with those amazing eyes, I had to pick a name that refers to her height. I guess it´s because there´s this song from David Bowie called Little Wonder that reminds me of her.
Lo: It´s the same name in Lioness´ blog. I picked it. But it´s hard to explain why. I dunno... She has that "not so innocent child" look.
Makel: Ah, Makel... The name is actually a simplification of Manakel, which is, according to the books, her guardian angel. I was supposed to be Aiel, the simplification of Eiaiel. The names came up when we were reading these charts that told which guardian angel you have according to your date and time of birth.
Mermaid: Her actual name, in my native tongue, is the name of mermaids in the mythology of south american indians.
Moviemaker: The name is a direct translation from Lioness´ blog. In our native tongue, the name is Cineasta. It´s what she studies in college.
Nana(-chan): She´s a friend from the university. We quickly bacame good friends because of our mutual passion for anime and manga. And since these things have a way of infusing japanese culture into their audience´s lives, we began to call each other in that japanese teenage fashion. She was Nana-chan and I was Pan-kun. Nana is a childhood nickname. When her younger brother was born, that was the only way he could say her name.
Sati, aka Tinkerbell: Ok, this wasn´t the brightest of names. When I met her we were both at high-school. I had my friends who knew I liked her. And since our teachers seemed very strict about conversation in class, we wrote to each other. You know that teenage thing of keeping your passion a big secret? So just in case any of our writting ever fell into the wrong hands, we made up nicknames or anagrams for the original names. Sati is the anagram of her actual name. About the other name... well, you get the picture.
Sister-in-law-to-be / Sis: Need I say more??
Trainspotter: There was a single post with her name. Still... It´s the book she was reading last time I saw her. She was a clubber. And a quite secretive, strange one... And the whole clubber-secrets-book combination lead to these really naughty rumors...
Well, since I couldn´t get around HTML codes to create a whole new page for these names, I´ll just have to post them here.... And now, the moment you´ve all been waiting for...
Introducing my Enciclopaedia of Blog Names!
yay...
==================
Amber Eyes: I guess the passage of my blog where she appears for the first time (5/19/2002) holds the reason for the name. She was of asian ancestry, but she had deeply western amber eyes. Must have some european in the family... She was a friend of Sis who was intended to be a blind date for Alex. But hings didn't quite work that way...
Azrael, Marcus, Smith and the beast: The Council. Something like a conscience. First there was Azrael, the one. The vampire. He was the emotional side. Born in the time I was a pseudo-goth. The one who showed me the world and made me want to depict it somehow. Then came Marcus, the true. The smoker. He was a rational side. So rational that at times he would set aside the humane aspect of things. Brutaly cruel, cynical, but true. Often compared to my evil side. But at times Azrael has been more cruel. Marcus is simply pure reason. Born in 98, during one of my darkest phases. In the quarrel between emotion and reason, Charley was born. We was the spirit of teenage. The one to settle scores. But eventually he was assimilated and consumed by me: I became Charley. And then he was deleted. With time came the beast. I had thought he was Azrael evolved. But he was something else. The beast is a human before culture. The animal side. Before language: so he does not speak, he barely comunicates. Hence he has no name. Born in the woods at grandmother´s farm a couple of years back. Finally, to settle scores and aid in my personal growth, Smith joined us. Smith, the honored. The ethical side. Reason, emotion or instinct have nothing to do with it. All that matters is what is the "right thing to do".
Big Mama: In our high-school gang, she seemed to be the most down-to-earth of the girls. She took care of us all, she cared for us all. She was like a mother. But you could talk of intimate subjects with her... And about sex, obviously. 'Cause it always ends in sex when you´re among teenagers...
Blonde Muse: To be a muse... Every artist has a muse every now and then. And for each artist it has to do with a specific characteristic. In my case, it's the form. She has a pretty face and very smooth moves. As if she was always posing for something. It´s hard to catch her out of form. Although I may say she´s not very photogenic in pictures where she actually knows she´s being photographed... So usually I prefer to catch her off guard.
Blue-eyed Teddy Bear: A dearest friend of mine. She has icy blue eyes and she just makes you want to hug her like a teddy bear. She seems to inspire warmth and comfort, even though she tends to be very emotional. But that just makes us like her even more!
Buffy: Alex's girl. I seem to find some similarity between her and Sarah Michele Gellar. But seldom do people agree with me when it comes to similarities...
Comediant: The funniest of the bunch, always comming up with witty remarks and slapstick humour. His humour and dazed expressions kinda remind me of Kramer from Seinfeld...
Foreign Elf: Well, she´s the only one in the blog who doesn´t live around here. And she is quite fond of Lord of the Rings. And since she´s so tall and cute and everything, just like an elf, it makes the perfect name for her...
Former Rebel: He spent most of his teenage as a rebel, wearing leather jackets, dreaming of having a Harley and listening to rock. Back in those days, he wore his har long and his attitude mean. You know that song from Steppenwolf? That was him... But then he ventured into the lawyering world and had to trim that hair short and trade the leather for linen. Nowadays he poses as a wolf in sheep's clothing, looking like an elegant gentleman as he hits the bars for women after the job...
General Anarchy: The perfect name. He enrolled in the army a while back. Still, he has this way of bringing anarchy to every aspect of his life. He disobeys any authority for the pleasure of it and is eager to find each authority's limits, so he can manage around them, outside of their jurisdiction.
Hyperactive / Alex: He´s the kind of guy who would show up at home and walk directly from the door to my brother´s piano. He´d open it, play half a song and get up, leaving it open, to turn the computer on. He would then start every game you have, but exit the program in the first two minutes. Then he´d get up from the computer, leaving it turned on, and seek something to eat in the kitchen. He never stops. God knows how I can keep up with him... The second name, Alex, recalls one of the books I wrote and never finished: Child of the Night. From the time I was into vapires. One of the characters was inspired on him. We actually write e-mails to each other with our characters´ names...
Lioness: She´s the most expressive presence in my blog. We study at the university toghether. The name comes from her own theory that there are four groups of people: Lionesses, Princesses, Good Men and Inferior Men. Good Men and Princesses are commonly associated to the looser type. They are the nice people, but also the inhibited ones. The ones who´ll get shy dealing with certain aspects, who won´t deal with taboo subjects. Lionesses and Inferior Men are the popular type. People who´ll usually get what they want no matter the means to get it. People who´ll talk about anything comfortably and acknowledge the evil in the world, knowing how to use it to their own advantage. The kind of people averyone wants to be once in a while. There´s a dynamic between the four types. Good Men will drool over Lionesses, who´ll in turn crave Inferior Men, who usually seduce Princesses because Princesses are cute and controllable. My personal experience says that Princesses are also attracted to Inferior Men. But only until they´ve been hurt enough to learn they can´t trust them. I´ll stop here. The Lioness might attempt to explain this better herself.
Little Wonder: It´s obviously got to do with her height. She´s terribly short. And it seems to be one of her most beautiful qualities, I guess. But the most striking thing about her are her eyes. Clear hazel eyes that seem to pierce through almost anything. Comic strip fans would recognize in those eyes the look of evil women. But I can asure she´s the kindest of persons. Even with those amazing eyes, I had to pick a name that refers to her height. I guess it´s because there´s this song from David Bowie called Little Wonder that reminds me of her.
Lo: It´s the same name in Lioness´ blog. I picked it. But it´s hard to explain why. I dunno... She has that "not so innocent child" look.
Makel: Ah, Makel... The name is actually a simplification of Manakel, which is, according to the books, her guardian angel. I was supposed to be Aiel, the simplification of Eiaiel. The names came up when we were reading these charts that told which guardian angel you have according to your date and time of birth.
Mermaid: Her actual name, in my native tongue, is the name of mermaids in the mythology of south american indians.
Moviemaker: The name is a direct translation from Lioness´ blog. In our native tongue, the name is Cineasta. It´s what she studies in college.
Nana(-chan): She´s a friend from the university. We quickly bacame good friends because of our mutual passion for anime and manga. And since these things have a way of infusing japanese culture into their audience´s lives, we began to call each other in that japanese teenage fashion. She was Nana-chan and I was Pan-kun. Nana is a childhood nickname. When her younger brother was born, that was the only way he could say her name.
Sati, aka Tinkerbell: Ok, this wasn´t the brightest of names. When I met her we were both at high-school. I had my friends who knew I liked her. And since our teachers seemed very strict about conversation in class, we wrote to each other. You know that teenage thing of keeping your passion a big secret? So just in case any of our writting ever fell into the wrong hands, we made up nicknames or anagrams for the original names. Sati is the anagram of her actual name. About the other name... well, you get the picture.
Sister-in-law-to-be / Sis: Need I say more??
Trainspotter: There was a single post with her name. Still... It´s the book she was reading last time I saw her. She was a clubber. And a quite secretive, strange one... And the whole clubber-secrets-book combination lead to these really naughty rumors...
domingo, janeiro 12, 2003
Beautiful, highly recommended movie!!!!!
Despite the latinesque amounts of raw sex displayed (which, in my hormone-ladden opinion, makes it an even better movie...), there is much poetry and a deep knowledge of relationships. Plus, the language used for telling such a wonderful story makes it unforgetable. But do be warned: it ain`t no walk in the park...
Only for you guys who have a taste for deep, heavy movies.
sábado, janeiro 11, 2003
And now, back to
THE TIMELESS PLACE (Part 2)
Come the New Year
27/12/2002
My complaints have been heeded: the weather changed and it has begun to rain. Yesterday the sky turned as gray as lead. It all seems to remind me ever so stubbornly of the Daughter of Rain... But obviously this is censored subject.
27/12/2002
My generation in father`s side of the family came in three separate batches. The first batch brought two girls and my recently deceased cousin. The tiny second batch brought me and my brother some four years later. Almost a decade later came the last batch with a couple of boys and a couple of girls.
The eldest girl from the first batch has come to spend the days with us here in the northeast. It was nice to see her again after so long.
Seeing all the intimacy this first batch has with the upper generation makes me think about how it feels as if we were batches of super heroes. When the first few X-Man were created in the Marvel universe, they had all the attention. Those first few were always the big heroes and plots were highly developed and filled with twists and turns. Stories were exciting and we knew every character well. But as other batches of X-Men joined the group and were divided in teams (Red, Blue, etc...), the writers found it difficult to deal with so many characters at a time. Plots became shallow and characters didn`t get to be developed and explored as much as the first X-Men. Readers knew only the characters` names and powers and not much more. The whole thing lost it`s strenght.
Am I making any sense? Well... You`ll understand me if you have a large family.
28/12/2002
Brother, who studies engineering, developed an interest in the workings of the sugar factory. He asked to stay a while longer, on a sort of an internship. But due to affairs back at our home town, he had to cancel the arrangements. Nonetheless, this simple interest stirred up a load of pressure over my brother. Grudges from the past have been brought back into the spotlight. From what I gather, brother has been compared to other family members who ventured into disastrous internships at the factory. Father managed to violently make it clear that no such comparisons are to be made. He brushed aside undesired help, making it also clear that, if brother was ever to manifest any real interest for a position in the factory, it would be out of his own will and not because of any persuasion. I`m sure he`d be a capable master in the factory within a few years and with very little help. There`s no one better to run the place than an engineer.
Some years ago, events like these would have passed as incomprehensible rumors to me. My father`s efforts to protect us and all other tiny family squables would be mere noise in the background. As we grow and these things become clear to me, I feel an almost instinctive desire to gain knowledge of the family`s many businesses, knowledge enought to bring us all toghether and help run things. It`s the right thing to do. It weights heavily upon my conscience like this golden ring weights on my right hand.
But am I strong or wise enough to yield it?
31/12/2002
There are two kinds of people in father`s side of the family: rogues and aristocrats. Being one or the other doesn`t necessarily mean being successful or even ethical. Father is a very successful rogue type while aunt Margot and aunt Suzy are equally successful and respected aristocrats. You can easily differ one from the other in the big family meetings: while the aristocrats sit around the dinning room discussing politics and the family, rogues are usually found in the kitchen or the yard, discussing more mundane, raw subjects along with the servants. Brother is clearly bred to be a rogue and enjoy the simple pleasures in life. But what am I?
31/12/2002
The last day of the year brought a different experience. We went fishing with one of our cousins from the northeast. He`s a witty fellow, as smart and resourceful as he is beautiful. Knowing mostly everything in the region, he was quick to find us a party of skilled fishermen who accompanied us. They were simple people with simple lives and raw education. Rogues. While we were setting the boat on the water in some forgotten little riverside town, cousin was telling us that in that place, men were either fishermen or cops. Those who did neither were drug dealers and lowlifes. Women were housewives or worked with arts and crafts. The ones who did neither... found their way to survive...
Just before we left, one of the more animalistic fishermen decided he`d steal his neighbor`s duck for us to eat. It was all sort of TV violence: we saw a couple of ducks swimming in the river. As they turned the corner, he went after them. Minutes later, he came for a plastic bag announcing that the deed was done. Later on he returned with the bagged duck, blood visible through the semi-transparent plastic. The other duck swam away, appauled at the violence with which his partner had been abated.
A few miles down the river, riding past shrimp farms and beacheads, they stopped the boat. We were a few meters from a bar on the riverside, on another village of fishermen. Our animalistic guide decided he`d clean up the duck and prepare it to be cooked. I thought I was going to be sick if I watched but actually it was quite interesting. The beast yanked the already headless duck out of the bag and started viciously plucking out hadfulls of feathers. Afteer that, he requested a knife with which he proceeded to chop of the legs. In his bestial rage, he cut one on the ankle, casting the bird`s foot overboard. The other leg was torn entirely off at waist level and equally disposed. Both wings were wasted in the blink of an eye. Then he proceeded to tear of the animal`s skin and finally the bowels. Blood ran thick on board while the last few feathers sailed away. It was also smeared in the left overs on the bag in that bright and sadistically beautiful red.
I kept remembering that scene from Evangelion where Shinji`s EVA rips apart Toji`s EVA, which had been overrun by an angel. The bestial fisherman displayed the same bloodlust, the exact same frenzy for ripping and tearing appart that Shinji`s dummy-plug controlled EVA showed.
Not much was left of the duck.
It did however turn out to be a delicious stew, which we tasted at a similar bar after fishing, while we talked about nonsense and laughed, listening to that mindless regional music blaring right next to us. We sat around, drank beer and vodka and whatever was poured into the glass while everyone seemed to have some parlor trick to confuse alcohol-ladden minds. After four hours of that, plus a pan of newly caught shrimp, I could convince my cousin to take us back for the new year`s eve festivities.
I admit I can`t write much about the fishing. I dozed off on that boat while cousin and brother dissapeared underwater, cousin carrying a harpoon in one hand.
But as a last note, I`d like to bring down that stupid myth that these people live "in harmony with nature". These people kill everything in their path. I was indignant when one of these guys, after all the fishing, pulled a crab out of the water and, after toying with it a little, smashed it`s shell with the back of a harpoon gun and kicked it overboard gleefuly! These guys have no respect for life!
1/1/2003
First of all, happy 2003 to all of you!! Hope you had a wonderful evening.
At the stroke of two in the morning, northeastern time, I was heading home. My clothes were soaked in sea water, sand and algae. And I was happy as a clam! It was a marvelous end to a marvelous year. A year of ressurrection. I had started 2002 in a gruesome state of depression that already lasted for almost six months since the definitive end of my affairs with Makel. I spent a hellish new year's eve that ended with me watching the fireworks almost alone, Makel probably getting laid with her new boyfriend and other very grim perspectives. It was so bad I made no new year resolutions... But as the year begun, I learned once again how to communicate. I met Sati once again and the Lioness. From then on, all sorts of wonderful adventures happened. Not only on my love life, thanks to the Lioness, the Trainspotter, Amber-Eyes and my Sati, but also in my career and hobbies: the valid attempt at doing Huis Clos, the art expo at the university (where I avenged last year's fiasco) and the Anual in the art foundation. Not to mention my approach to the art galleries (or rather the galleries' first approach to me...).
And so, to give this year a decent ending, I decided to step away from the traditionaly boring new year's eve with the family and really celebrate. I went after the only people who made last new year's bareable: Nana-chan and Thelus. they were both staying with Nana's family at an inn at the beach. I figured we could all have a laugh and bitch about a year ago. I found her and her marvelous family, all dressed in white as superstition dictates. I wore black. It was the colour I wore a year before and it gave me such a great year... Furthermore, I felt like some main character in a movie, walking in black against the flow of a white crowd.
When the fireworks started, we found out we were right next to one of the launch areas. Fireworks began bursting in amazng flashes of light right above our heads!! I cheered gleefuly as a child, dancing through fire shower, to quote a song from Cowboy Bebop. All along the beach and far away, other flashes of light greeted the new year. Then, it was time for more superstition as we headed to the shore to skip seven waves. Suddenly, as I expected, Thelus lifts up a screaming Nana and both jump into the water. Join us! Why not? So I went to ride a couple of waves besides skipping seven of them. Who knowsÇ might do for some extra luck.
I went home with pockets full of sand, a fire cracker shard as a souvenir and a soul filled with courage to start a year of grim perspectives. But that's for another post...
Once again, happy 2003!! May we lucky few who had a great 2002 have it even better this year! And to those who didn't have such a good year: cheer up! This one ought to be better. As I ofter say, referring to my own problems: this too shall pass.
2/1/2003
The turning of the tide
Lately, I've written about how I've matured enough to notice things and how things around us seem to be impelling us all to grow and mature. I've noticed with much discontent how my father, my role model, seems to be getting grumpier as he grows older. In fact, all members of what I mockingly labeled the geriatric generation seem to be complaining more than usual and taking on the stubborness of old age. Father gets into fits of rage and refuses to speak when he is interrupted, like a little child. Others have begun complaining about aches and pains and recalling "the good ol' days". Meanwhile, the older generation has begun venturing into senilehood.
Pardon me: you must think I'm a brute for expressing these things...
Anyway, perhaps it is time for my generation to take the stand...
THE TIMELESS PLACE (Part 2)
Come the New Year
27/12/2002
My complaints have been heeded: the weather changed and it has begun to rain. Yesterday the sky turned as gray as lead. It all seems to remind me ever so stubbornly of the Daughter of Rain... But obviously this is censored subject.
27/12/2002
My generation in father`s side of the family came in three separate batches. The first batch brought two girls and my recently deceased cousin. The tiny second batch brought me and my brother some four years later. Almost a decade later came the last batch with a couple of boys and a couple of girls.
The eldest girl from the first batch has come to spend the days with us here in the northeast. It was nice to see her again after so long.
Seeing all the intimacy this first batch has with the upper generation makes me think about how it feels as if we were batches of super heroes. When the first few X-Man were created in the Marvel universe, they had all the attention. Those first few were always the big heroes and plots were highly developed and filled with twists and turns. Stories were exciting and we knew every character well. But as other batches of X-Men joined the group and were divided in teams (Red, Blue, etc...), the writers found it difficult to deal with so many characters at a time. Plots became shallow and characters didn`t get to be developed and explored as much as the first X-Men. Readers knew only the characters` names and powers and not much more. The whole thing lost it`s strenght.
Am I making any sense? Well... You`ll understand me if you have a large family.
28/12/2002
Brother, who studies engineering, developed an interest in the workings of the sugar factory. He asked to stay a while longer, on a sort of an internship. But due to affairs back at our home town, he had to cancel the arrangements. Nonetheless, this simple interest stirred up a load of pressure over my brother. Grudges from the past have been brought back into the spotlight. From what I gather, brother has been compared to other family members who ventured into disastrous internships at the factory. Father managed to violently make it clear that no such comparisons are to be made. He brushed aside undesired help, making it also clear that, if brother was ever to manifest any real interest for a position in the factory, it would be out of his own will and not because of any persuasion. I`m sure he`d be a capable master in the factory within a few years and with very little help. There`s no one better to run the place than an engineer.
Some years ago, events like these would have passed as incomprehensible rumors to me. My father`s efforts to protect us and all other tiny family squables would be mere noise in the background. As we grow and these things become clear to me, I feel an almost instinctive desire to gain knowledge of the family`s many businesses, knowledge enought to bring us all toghether and help run things. It`s the right thing to do. It weights heavily upon my conscience like this golden ring weights on my right hand.
But am I strong or wise enough to yield it?
31/12/2002
There are two kinds of people in father`s side of the family: rogues and aristocrats. Being one or the other doesn`t necessarily mean being successful or even ethical. Father is a very successful rogue type while aunt Margot and aunt Suzy are equally successful and respected aristocrats. You can easily differ one from the other in the big family meetings: while the aristocrats sit around the dinning room discussing politics and the family, rogues are usually found in the kitchen or the yard, discussing more mundane, raw subjects along with the servants. Brother is clearly bred to be a rogue and enjoy the simple pleasures in life. But what am I?
31/12/2002
The last day of the year brought a different experience. We went fishing with one of our cousins from the northeast. He`s a witty fellow, as smart and resourceful as he is beautiful. Knowing mostly everything in the region, he was quick to find us a party of skilled fishermen who accompanied us. They were simple people with simple lives and raw education. Rogues. While we were setting the boat on the water in some forgotten little riverside town, cousin was telling us that in that place, men were either fishermen or cops. Those who did neither were drug dealers and lowlifes. Women were housewives or worked with arts and crafts. The ones who did neither... found their way to survive...
Just before we left, one of the more animalistic fishermen decided he`d steal his neighbor`s duck for us to eat. It was all sort of TV violence: we saw a couple of ducks swimming in the river. As they turned the corner, he went after them. Minutes later, he came for a plastic bag announcing that the deed was done. Later on he returned with the bagged duck, blood visible through the semi-transparent plastic. The other duck swam away, appauled at the violence with which his partner had been abated.
A few miles down the river, riding past shrimp farms and beacheads, they stopped the boat. We were a few meters from a bar on the riverside, on another village of fishermen. Our animalistic guide decided he`d clean up the duck and prepare it to be cooked. I thought I was going to be sick if I watched but actually it was quite interesting. The beast yanked the already headless duck out of the bag and started viciously plucking out hadfulls of feathers. Afteer that, he requested a knife with which he proceeded to chop of the legs. In his bestial rage, he cut one on the ankle, casting the bird`s foot overboard. The other leg was torn entirely off at waist level and equally disposed. Both wings were wasted in the blink of an eye. Then he proceeded to tear of the animal`s skin and finally the bowels. Blood ran thick on board while the last few feathers sailed away. It was also smeared in the left overs on the bag in that bright and sadistically beautiful red.
I kept remembering that scene from Evangelion where Shinji`s EVA rips apart Toji`s EVA, which had been overrun by an angel. The bestial fisherman displayed the same bloodlust, the exact same frenzy for ripping and tearing appart that Shinji`s dummy-plug controlled EVA showed.
Not much was left of the duck.
It did however turn out to be a delicious stew, which we tasted at a similar bar after fishing, while we talked about nonsense and laughed, listening to that mindless regional music blaring right next to us. We sat around, drank beer and vodka and whatever was poured into the glass while everyone seemed to have some parlor trick to confuse alcohol-ladden minds. After four hours of that, plus a pan of newly caught shrimp, I could convince my cousin to take us back for the new year`s eve festivities.
I admit I can`t write much about the fishing. I dozed off on that boat while cousin and brother dissapeared underwater, cousin carrying a harpoon in one hand.
But as a last note, I`d like to bring down that stupid myth that these people live "in harmony with nature". These people kill everything in their path. I was indignant when one of these guys, after all the fishing, pulled a crab out of the water and, after toying with it a little, smashed it`s shell with the back of a harpoon gun and kicked it overboard gleefuly! These guys have no respect for life!
1/1/2003
First of all, happy 2003 to all of you!! Hope you had a wonderful evening.
At the stroke of two in the morning, northeastern time, I was heading home. My clothes were soaked in sea water, sand and algae. And I was happy as a clam! It was a marvelous end to a marvelous year. A year of ressurrection. I had started 2002 in a gruesome state of depression that already lasted for almost six months since the definitive end of my affairs with Makel. I spent a hellish new year's eve that ended with me watching the fireworks almost alone, Makel probably getting laid with her new boyfriend and other very grim perspectives. It was so bad I made no new year resolutions... But as the year begun, I learned once again how to communicate. I met Sati once again and the Lioness. From then on, all sorts of wonderful adventures happened. Not only on my love life, thanks to the Lioness, the Trainspotter, Amber-Eyes and my Sati, but also in my career and hobbies: the valid attempt at doing Huis Clos, the art expo at the university (where I avenged last year's fiasco) and the Anual in the art foundation. Not to mention my approach to the art galleries (or rather the galleries' first approach to me...).
And so, to give this year a decent ending, I decided to step away from the traditionaly boring new year's eve with the family and really celebrate. I went after the only people who made last new year's bareable: Nana-chan and Thelus. they were both staying with Nana's family at an inn at the beach. I figured we could all have a laugh and bitch about a year ago. I found her and her marvelous family, all dressed in white as superstition dictates. I wore black. It was the colour I wore a year before and it gave me such a great year... Furthermore, I felt like some main character in a movie, walking in black against the flow of a white crowd.
When the fireworks started, we found out we were right next to one of the launch areas. Fireworks began bursting in amazng flashes of light right above our heads!! I cheered gleefuly as a child, dancing through fire shower, to quote a song from Cowboy Bebop. All along the beach and far away, other flashes of light greeted the new year. Then, it was time for more superstition as we headed to the shore to skip seven waves. Suddenly, as I expected, Thelus lifts up a screaming Nana and both jump into the water. Join us! Why not? So I went to ride a couple of waves besides skipping seven of them. Who knowsÇ might do for some extra luck.
I went home with pockets full of sand, a fire cracker shard as a souvenir and a soul filled with courage to start a year of grim perspectives. But that's for another post...
Once again, happy 2003!! May we lucky few who had a great 2002 have it even better this year! And to those who didn't have such a good year: cheer up! This one ought to be better. As I ofter say, referring to my own problems: this too shall pass.
2/1/2003
The turning of the tide
Lately, I've written about how I've matured enough to notice things and how things around us seem to be impelling us all to grow and mature. I've noticed with much discontent how my father, my role model, seems to be getting grumpier as he grows older. In fact, all members of what I mockingly labeled the geriatric generation seem to be complaining more than usual and taking on the stubborness of old age. Father gets into fits of rage and refuses to speak when he is interrupted, like a little child. Others have begun complaining about aches and pains and recalling "the good ol' days". Meanwhile, the older generation has begun venturing into senilehood.
Pardon me: you must think I'm a brute for expressing these things...
Anyway, perhaps it is time for my generation to take the stand...
sexta-feira, janeiro 10, 2003
PAUSA PARA MOMENTO THE THINGS PEOPLE SAY:
"Tem que chegar lá mais tarde, quando elas já estão com a ricota suada"
Proferido pelo Comediant. Não pergunte o contexto: é muito difícil explicar...
Em outras notas, ressurge do passado a figura de Amber Eyes. Lembram-se dela (5/12/2002)? Sis tem chamado ela pra sair conosco ultimamente. Aparentemente a idéia toda é ver se algo acontece entre ela e o Comediant. Tenho a impressão de que pode ser uma tentativa de afastá-lo de uma torturante armadilha nas mãos da Little Wonder. Mas acho que estou sendo muito precipitado. De qualquer forma, Amber Eyes apareceu de novo pela primeira vez antes de viajarmos para o nordeste em uma festinha que fizemos aqui em casa aproveitando que meus pais já tinham ido viajar. No dia, levei um choque. Mas depois pensei melhor e vi que, se ela me visse com minha namorada, já encerrava a questão. Não preciso de mais complicações com mulheres...
"Tem que chegar lá mais tarde, quando elas já estão com a ricota suada"
Proferido pelo Comediant. Não pergunte o contexto: é muito difícil explicar...
Em outras notas, ressurge do passado a figura de Amber Eyes. Lembram-se dela (5/12/2002)? Sis tem chamado ela pra sair conosco ultimamente. Aparentemente a idéia toda é ver se algo acontece entre ela e o Comediant. Tenho a impressão de que pode ser uma tentativa de afastá-lo de uma torturante armadilha nas mãos da Little Wonder. Mas acho que estou sendo muito precipitado. De qualquer forma, Amber Eyes apareceu de novo pela primeira vez antes de viajarmos para o nordeste em uma festinha que fizemos aqui em casa aproveitando que meus pais já tinham ido viajar. No dia, levei um choque. Mas depois pensei melhor e vi que, se ela me visse com minha namorada, já encerrava a questão. Não preciso de mais complicações com mulheres...
THE TIMELESS PLACE (Part 1):
An account of the days in the northeast
23/12/2002
We arrived at the northeast, me and my brother. It was the first time we traveled there without our parents: they came the night before. The journey itself was calm and eventless.
The land seems to be so overwhelmingly oppressive. Starting with the geology: a vast, seemingly endless plain. It's pointless to wander. there seems to be nothing anywhere. High in the skies aboard the airplane, I could see the emptiness. A pale, slightly ochre green everywhere, criss-crossed by countless dirt-roads. On the ground, the horizon is a flat line so straight that any edification can be seen miles away. The vegetation is as agressive as it is scarce. Grass everywhere. But grass so menacing in that heat that it confines you to the urban space. Tall grass leaves flicker in the miraged horizon like sharp green blades. I remember sugar cane crops everywhere as tall as my brother. But for some reason, I haven't seen them yet this time. Many times we had driven through the dirt roads that cut through the fields and it always gave me a surreal sense of suspense: stopping here would make us easy prey for some beast hiding among the crops.
The heat, as I said, makes everything more menacing. Or rather it makes the body more tender. Hence everything that brushes the skin can bruise. The arid climate promotes such indolence that, although it bothers to no end, I'm perhaps too lazed to think of my usual ideas of suicide (don't ask...)
The town where we usually stay seems to have been taken from a Stephen King novel -- some adaptation of Children of the Corn, perhaps.... It was built close to the sugar factory (hence the sugar cane crops...) that belonged to my family 'till recently when it was sold. My family still runs and own most of the things in the factory and in the little town. It's a tiny place where mostly everyone knows everybody else. As in my first surreal revelation, we here live in a bubble of aristocracy. Aunt Margot and aunt Suzy are the only one who meddle in local affairs, as a sort of aristocratic dictatorship. The rest of us, specially the ones who don't live there, seem to be oblivious to anything that happens. The arid oppression mentioned before keeps us inside aunt Margot and Suzy's place, a big old mansion atop a hill; or on the beaches where we spend most of the day.
Long time ago, I posted something where I wrote that nothing ever changed here except for the people who died and th people who were born. And as we drove through the litle town, I had the same impression. It remained intact, everything in it's place. Even the man selling ice-cream at the foot of the hill. The big mansion remained intact as it always has been. But my first shock was when I entered that living room and found aunt Margot. She was sitting in her usual chair where she watches TV and curses the rubbish displayed on every channel. But when she got up to greet me, she reached over to one side and grabbed a cane. It was so strange to see a woman of her build and moral strenght walking with the aid of a cane. She had turned old. Very old. Aunt Suzy seemed to be physically intact, despite the bobbing of her head aquired from a neural injury when she fell down the stairs. Only later on would I understand that the signs of age in her had nothing to do with physical. She had difficulty trying to organize data in her head. We had to tell things to her thrre, sometimes four times untill she could store that information in her head. She still took an admirably good care of all three of her cats. Later at night, uncle John and aunt Belle came to see us. Uncle John was a US fighter pilot in the Second World War. He met and married aunt Belle while stationed in my country. He was unchanged. But aunt Belle was growing a very noticeable hump on her left shoulder, which made her lean to the right at all times. I always thought her to be the prettiest of my aunts in the northeast.
24/12/2002
We caught a glimpse of the sugar cane crops today. The're still sprouting in some places and already being harvested in others. They're taken to the factory on huge yellow wagons pulled by trucks after being burned and cut down. These trucks roll around the dirt roads driven by really aweful drivers stirring up the dirt and preading around a sickeningly sweet odour of fermentation hightened by the heat.
25/12/2002
The word for Christmas, in my native tongue, means a date related to birth. And in here, it gains a whole other anacronical meaning. As I wrote earlier, it seems time stops here. It has remained still since the beggining of the twentieth century. And very time we celebrate Christmas here, it is as if we were beckoning this place to renew itself. Yet I shiver at the thought that this shrine to stagnation, the only stable and immutable place should ever change. It would be the en of a whole sector of my personal and family history.
All being said, I still find it humorous that I should come to a timeless place and surround myself of ancient family history to celebrate the passage of time.
25/12/2002
The Cristmas banquet has been a family tradition ever since I can remember. Aunt Suzy makes her famous round english cake, the rest of the family brings other delights and we get stuffed for as much as the heat will allow. Then we hit the Christmas tree for each one's gifts. My score this year: three T-shirts from various aunts that'll probably sit on my closet for years... I'm not really that fond of T-shirts, but I do understand that the 20's are a difficult age to give gifts.
Anyway, it's when we hit the Christmas tree that the interesting "sideshows" happen. A decade ago, I put on quite a show with my brother as we sang what we had learned in the school choir abroad. This year, the side show was the ring ceremony. Father called over to me and spoke out loud, telling everyone that I, being the eldest male of my generation, had reached the age in which I was to receive the family ring and carry out the family name. I felt honoured. See, receiving this ring meant to me receiving the praise of everyone. Being accepted as a responsible adult. I had desires to understand more about the family, to help in administering the family`s businesses.
25/12/2002
Later, in a more informal gathering in one of the mansion`s many living rooms, we were discussing mundane things. Father was talking about he begging industry, or "beggar wars" as I call it.
If you`re a fellow countryman and you drive around the city long enough, you may be aware of the patterns of behaviour that guide the simple act of begging in our metropolis.
When I began driving, aside from simple beggars, there were the ones who would fake illnesses, the ones who "sold" things and window washers. Then one of those who sold things came up with an interesting strategy. He`d drape one of those rags that mechanics use on your left mirror with a note: "I`m unemployed. To work with dignity instead of stealing, I`m selling these rags for a buck. Thank you for your help and God bless." He`d drape these rags on as much mirrors as he could before the traffic light would turn green and then pick them up before the cars moved. Anyone interested would take the rag and hand him a buck. The strategy quickly gained adepts because it reached a greater number of people. Other variations came: people sold candy, bubblegum, pens and recently even notebooks.
The other beggars learned that they would have to evolve to cope with the loss of clientele. Window washers began to raid the crossings in packs of dozens, ignoring no`s from the drivers. Father almost mauled a brat who squirted "something" onto the window of his brand new Volks. I came up with various evasive maneuvers.
Common beggars were almost out of the game. Fraudulent illnesses became a sine qua non condition. And they followed trends every now and then. For two months, I witnessed a blitzkrieg of alleged swedes (who looked much more like indians to me...), all bearing the same crooked left arm due to some sort of polio. Hundreds of them on every crossing, holding barely legible signs written in purposefuly wrong grammar. Later on, when the traffic light opened, they`d count the coins they had been given with that very same polio-stricken hand...
The whole thing with being a foreigner began when Argentina went bankrupt and some of them fled to my country to beg. Being argentinian was all the rage for a while. Then it evolved to being swedish for some reason. The incapacity to comunicate seems to highten the pitty we feel for them. Don`t talk to me, just hand over the spare change. Finally, one of those very same argentinians (this time, a real one), came up with the latest trend: juggling. I must confess I did give him some change the first time. He put on quite a show, dressed up in funny clothes juggling with incendiary clubs late into the night. He relieved stress, he marveled, he entertained. It was a much greater service than any candy, rag or window washing. But after a while, every street urchin was learning to juggle tennis balls. Four, five all at once. On every crossing.
They learned that entertainment pays: on my street, children have begun dancing spiffy coreographies to the sound of clapping and rap.
I`m just counting the weeks `till it becomes the latest trend...
An account of the days in the northeast
23/12/2002
We arrived at the northeast, me and my brother. It was the first time we traveled there without our parents: they came the night before. The journey itself was calm and eventless.
The land seems to be so overwhelmingly oppressive. Starting with the geology: a vast, seemingly endless plain. It's pointless to wander. there seems to be nothing anywhere. High in the skies aboard the airplane, I could see the emptiness. A pale, slightly ochre green everywhere, criss-crossed by countless dirt-roads. On the ground, the horizon is a flat line so straight that any edification can be seen miles away. The vegetation is as agressive as it is scarce. Grass everywhere. But grass so menacing in that heat that it confines you to the urban space. Tall grass leaves flicker in the miraged horizon like sharp green blades. I remember sugar cane crops everywhere as tall as my brother. But for some reason, I haven't seen them yet this time. Many times we had driven through the dirt roads that cut through the fields and it always gave me a surreal sense of suspense: stopping here would make us easy prey for some beast hiding among the crops.
The heat, as I said, makes everything more menacing. Or rather it makes the body more tender. Hence everything that brushes the skin can bruise. The arid climate promotes such indolence that, although it bothers to no end, I'm perhaps too lazed to think of my usual ideas of suicide (don't ask...)
The town where we usually stay seems to have been taken from a Stephen King novel -- some adaptation of Children of the Corn, perhaps.... It was built close to the sugar factory (hence the sugar cane crops...) that belonged to my family 'till recently when it was sold. My family still runs and own most of the things in the factory and in the little town. It's a tiny place where mostly everyone knows everybody else. As in my first surreal revelation, we here live in a bubble of aristocracy. Aunt Margot and aunt Suzy are the only one who meddle in local affairs, as a sort of aristocratic dictatorship. The rest of us, specially the ones who don't live there, seem to be oblivious to anything that happens. The arid oppression mentioned before keeps us inside aunt Margot and Suzy's place, a big old mansion atop a hill; or on the beaches where we spend most of the day.
Long time ago, I posted something where I wrote that nothing ever changed here except for the people who died and th people who were born. And as we drove through the litle town, I had the same impression. It remained intact, everything in it's place. Even the man selling ice-cream at the foot of the hill. The big mansion remained intact as it always has been. But my first shock was when I entered that living room and found aunt Margot. She was sitting in her usual chair where she watches TV and curses the rubbish displayed on every channel. But when she got up to greet me, she reached over to one side and grabbed a cane. It was so strange to see a woman of her build and moral strenght walking with the aid of a cane. She had turned old. Very old. Aunt Suzy seemed to be physically intact, despite the bobbing of her head aquired from a neural injury when she fell down the stairs. Only later on would I understand that the signs of age in her had nothing to do with physical. She had difficulty trying to organize data in her head. We had to tell things to her thrre, sometimes four times untill she could store that information in her head. She still took an admirably good care of all three of her cats. Later at night, uncle John and aunt Belle came to see us. Uncle John was a US fighter pilot in the Second World War. He met and married aunt Belle while stationed in my country. He was unchanged. But aunt Belle was growing a very noticeable hump on her left shoulder, which made her lean to the right at all times. I always thought her to be the prettiest of my aunts in the northeast.
24/12/2002
We caught a glimpse of the sugar cane crops today. The're still sprouting in some places and already being harvested in others. They're taken to the factory on huge yellow wagons pulled by trucks after being burned and cut down. These trucks roll around the dirt roads driven by really aweful drivers stirring up the dirt and preading around a sickeningly sweet odour of fermentation hightened by the heat.
25/12/2002
The word for Christmas, in my native tongue, means a date related to birth. And in here, it gains a whole other anacronical meaning. As I wrote earlier, it seems time stops here. It has remained still since the beggining of the twentieth century. And very time we celebrate Christmas here, it is as if we were beckoning this place to renew itself. Yet I shiver at the thought that this shrine to stagnation, the only stable and immutable place should ever change. It would be the en of a whole sector of my personal and family history.
All being said, I still find it humorous that I should come to a timeless place and surround myself of ancient family history to celebrate the passage of time.
25/12/2002
The Cristmas banquet has been a family tradition ever since I can remember. Aunt Suzy makes her famous round english cake, the rest of the family brings other delights and we get stuffed for as much as the heat will allow. Then we hit the Christmas tree for each one's gifts. My score this year: three T-shirts from various aunts that'll probably sit on my closet for years... I'm not really that fond of T-shirts, but I do understand that the 20's are a difficult age to give gifts.
Anyway, it's when we hit the Christmas tree that the interesting "sideshows" happen. A decade ago, I put on quite a show with my brother as we sang what we had learned in the school choir abroad. This year, the side show was the ring ceremony. Father called over to me and spoke out loud, telling everyone that I, being the eldest male of my generation, had reached the age in which I was to receive the family ring and carry out the family name. I felt honoured. See, receiving this ring meant to me receiving the praise of everyone. Being accepted as a responsible adult. I had desires to understand more about the family, to help in administering the family`s businesses.
25/12/2002
Later, in a more informal gathering in one of the mansion`s many living rooms, we were discussing mundane things. Father was talking about he begging industry, or "beggar wars" as I call it.
If you`re a fellow countryman and you drive around the city long enough, you may be aware of the patterns of behaviour that guide the simple act of begging in our metropolis.
When I began driving, aside from simple beggars, there were the ones who would fake illnesses, the ones who "sold" things and window washers. Then one of those who sold things came up with an interesting strategy. He`d drape one of those rags that mechanics use on your left mirror with a note: "I`m unemployed. To work with dignity instead of stealing, I`m selling these rags for a buck. Thank you for your help and God bless." He`d drape these rags on as much mirrors as he could before the traffic light would turn green and then pick them up before the cars moved. Anyone interested would take the rag and hand him a buck. The strategy quickly gained adepts because it reached a greater number of people. Other variations came: people sold candy, bubblegum, pens and recently even notebooks.
The other beggars learned that they would have to evolve to cope with the loss of clientele. Window washers began to raid the crossings in packs of dozens, ignoring no`s from the drivers. Father almost mauled a brat who squirted "something" onto the window of his brand new Volks. I came up with various evasive maneuvers.
Common beggars were almost out of the game. Fraudulent illnesses became a sine qua non condition. And they followed trends every now and then. For two months, I witnessed a blitzkrieg of alleged swedes (who looked much more like indians to me...), all bearing the same crooked left arm due to some sort of polio. Hundreds of them on every crossing, holding barely legible signs written in purposefuly wrong grammar. Later on, when the traffic light opened, they`d count the coins they had been given with that very same polio-stricken hand...
The whole thing with being a foreigner began when Argentina went bankrupt and some of them fled to my country to beg. Being argentinian was all the rage for a while. Then it evolved to being swedish for some reason. The incapacity to comunicate seems to highten the pitty we feel for them. Don`t talk to me, just hand over the spare change. Finally, one of those very same argentinians (this time, a real one), came up with the latest trend: juggling. I must confess I did give him some change the first time. He put on quite a show, dressed up in funny clothes juggling with incendiary clubs late into the night. He relieved stress, he marveled, he entertained. It was a much greater service than any candy, rag or window washing. But after a while, every street urchin was learning to juggle tennis balls. Four, five all at once. On every crossing.
They learned that entertainment pays: on my street, children have begun dancing spiffy coreographies to the sound of clapping and rap.
I`m just counting the weeks `till it becomes the latest trend...
segunda-feira, janeiro 06, 2003
The Pan is back!!!
I'm just dusting off and booting the machinery to start Pan's-Eye-View 2003. But you're going to have to wait up 'till January 8th to read about everything that went on in the northeast: I forgot my artist's book where I had taken notes for the blog at my aunts' place... But not to worry. Due to some flight complications, brother had to remain there until January 8th and he has already been contacted and warned about my faux pas... In the mean time, I'll be making small arrangements for the new features of Pan's-Eye-View 2003, such as:
*Faster loading
*More images
*Posts in my native portuguese
I'm just dusting off and booting the machinery to start Pan's-Eye-View 2003. But you're going to have to wait up 'till January 8th to read about everything that went on in the northeast: I forgot my artist's book where I had taken notes for the blog at my aunts' place... But not to worry. Due to some flight complications, brother had to remain there until January 8th and he has already been contacted and warned about my faux pas... In the mean time, I'll be making small arrangements for the new features of Pan's-Eye-View 2003, such as:
*Faster loading
*More images
*Posts in my native portuguese
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