Que liiiindo!

Um site pra lá de retrô. (Via Terceira Base.)

Datado 16/agosto/2005

Vamos fazer o seguinte: continuar escrevendo até doer a mão, na era
digital dedos. Pois quando foi que as coisas deixaram de sair de mim
na forma de letrinhas? Todos aqueles gritos em marcador vermelho no
espelho do banheiro... Agora até email, bilhete bobo, sai com apagões,
riscos, backspace.
Continuar escrevendo, continuar dizendo o que não digo em lindas
entrelinhas. Desabafar num diário semanário o que seja. Pensar no lado
bom: backspace burila, não é mesmo?
Criar intimidade com o teclado, com as palavras vãs ou não.
Intimidade. Nem sempre contato é intimidade, tem que anotar isso na
cabeça. Vai ver intimidade está overrated e o que vale mesmo é ser
visita sempre.
E já que estamos nos aprendizados e nas notas mentais, outras
coisinhas para lembrar: que o sim é sim e que o não é não. Que quem
tem amigos não passa mal, já dizia a amiga. Que tempo não é infinito.
Que minha vida está esperando.

Antes, o cotidiano era um pensar alturas*

Bam barambambam
ouço a banda tocar
e depois me toco
de que tudo o que há
é silêncio, e a geladeira
a respirar.

Num tic tac sem fim
o relógio dá as horas
todas suas a mim
sem tocar o cuco
porque não é de tempos
antigos assim.

Coluna em posição
de macarrão escorrendo pela pia
deixo meus olhos cansados
tocarem de ouvido versos
que meus dedos vão digitando
sem rima
como desculpa para evitar
a cama sozinha.

E a todas as outras madrugadas
se junta esta madrugada
que nem é de insônia
durmo quando quero
se junta meu penar
meu querer
até minha solidão se junta
ao tempo que vai passando.

Amanhã acordo tarde
quando as neves de antanho
vierem acordar
a dona do Paracleto,
a mulher do filósofo.

Eu avisei que não tinha rima.

*o título é um verso de Hilda Hilst

Um ingrediente a menos

- Tira a verbena do caldeirão, rápido, rápido!
Ufa.

Très sage, oui.

Où est la très sage Helloïs,
Pour qui fut chastré, puis moyne
Pierre Esbaillart a Saint Denis?
Pour son amour ot cest essoyne.
(...)
Mais ou sont les neiges d'antan?

It's all about dreams

As pessoas sonham todo tipo de coisas: que estão gravando CDs, com amigos distantes, que estão fazendo sexo, com amigos próximos, com um futuro melhor, com um bom emprego, em ser embaixadores por duas semanas, em voltar pra casa, com ter casa, que estão voando, com coisas que parecem sonho mas não são e vice-versa. Sonho dormindo é aventura, sonho acordado é desejo.

Say nighty-night and kiss me
Just hold me tight and tell me you'll miss me
While I'm alone and blue as can be
Dream a little dream of me

Stars fading but I linger on dear
Still craving your kiss
I'm longin' to linger till dawn dear
Just saying this

Sweet dreams till sunbeams find you
Sweet dreams that leave all worries behind you
But in your dreams whatever they be
Dream a little dream of me

Bird on the Wire

Like a bird on the wire,
like a drunk in a midnight choir
I have tried in my way to be free.
Like a worm on a hook,
like a knight from some old fashioned book
I have saved all my ribbons for thee.
If I, if I have been unkind,
I hope that you can just let it go by.
If I, if I have been untrue
I hope you know it was never to you.

Like a baby, stillborn,
like a beast with his horn
I have torn everyone who reached out for me.
But I swear by this song
and by all that I have done wrong
I will make it all up to thee.
I saw a beggar leaning on his wooden crutch,
he said to me, "You must not ask for so much."
And a pretty woman leaning in her darkened door,
she cried to me, "Hey, why not ask for more?"

Oh like a bird on the wire,
like a drunk in a midnight choir
I have tried in my way to be free.

(Leonard Cohen, mas interpretado por Autorickshaw)

Discurso de Deus a Eva (Millôr Fernandes)

Pode cast ou não pode cast?

I guess I know the password.

Pós-escrito

Deja caer las agujas sobre el regazo. La mecedora se mueve imperceptiblemente. Paula tiene una de esas extrañas impresiones que la acometen de tiempo en tiempo; la necesidad imperiosa de aprehender todo lo que sus sentidos puedan alcanzar en el instante. Trata de ordenar sus inmediatas intuiciones, identificarlas y hacerlas conocimiento: movimiento de la mecedora, dolor en el pie izquierdo, picazón en la raíz del cabello, gusto a canela, canto del canario flauta, luz violeta en la ventana, sombras moradas a ambos lados de la pieza, olor a viejo, a lana, a paquetes de cartas. Apenas ha concluido el análisis cuando la invade una violenta infelicidad, una opresión física como un bolo histérico que le sube a las fauces y le impulsa a correr, a marcharse, a cambiar de vida; cosas a las que una profunda inspiración, cerrar dos segundos los ojos y llamarse a sí misma estúpida bastan para anular fácilmente.

Julio Cortázar, Bruja, en La otra orilla, en Cuentos completos v.I, ed. Alfaguara, pp. 66-72.

Snapshot

Em qualquer dado instante.

Firefox, 9 tabs. 2 ou 3 páginas de gmail, uma com foto do amigo vampiro, uma página com meu fluxo flickr, uma canção nova de Juliano Polimeno, uma janela de orkut com scrapbooks de amigos queridos da Unicamp, outra janela orkútica com fotos do Chefe e sua Pequena, uma tela de fundo da Lucy - The Doctor is In.
A chuva lá fora, a tv ligada em mute num programa de que não gosto, xícaras pela casa toda, uma taça de vinho não muito novo, a luz do banheiro acesa. A colcha de retalhos lilás.
Um cd no drive com memórias incompletas de outras vidas, a janela de downloads ainda segurando a minha música, a minha que foi feita pra mim, ouviram, papudos? que eu ouço cada tanto.
A voz da minha mãe ao telefone hoje de manhã, louça suja na pia, dor no joelho e no pescoço, alguns emails importantes para escrever, a cama desarrumada, os jeans surrados. Oficialização de coisas, saudade do logo ali, frio úmido, e um sentimento que eu não consigo definir muito bem.
Pequena nota mental com referência ao início d'A Bruxa de Cortázar, um telefonema por fazer, vontade de vasculhar antigos arquivos de novo. E um telefonema que eu não faço mais.
O começo do ano.

Mas de que eu estava falando mesmo? Feliz ano novo, todo mundo. Vai ser bom.

Cortei o cabelo e fiquei a cara da Anne Bancroft

- Ben, what are you doing?
- Well, I would say that I'm just drifting. Here in the pool.
- Why?
- Well, it's very comfortable just to drift here.
- Have you thought about graduate school?
- No.
- Would you mind telling me then what those four years of college were for? What was the point of all that hard work?
- You got me.

- Mrs. Robinson, you're trying to seduce me.
- [laughs]
- Aren't you?
- Benjamin, I am not trying to seduce you.
- I know that, but please, Mrs. Robinson, this is difficult...
- Would you like me to seduce you?
- What?
- Is that what you're trying to tell me?
- I'm going home now. I apologize for what I said. I hope you can forget it, but I'm going home right now.

tem problema...

eu estou escrevendo isto com meu pé. juro.

Univitelinos.

Eu não caibo mais nas roupas que eu cabia,
Eu não encho mais a casa de alegria.

what if I begin feeling in english, what if the curse is lifted, what if everybody who cares can save me from myself, what if the night doesn't crawl on me, what if the cold suddenly makes everything alright, what if crying actually takes you somewhere, what's with the love between the cobblestones, what if not belonging is just a way of life, what if 'loser' is just one more fad, what if I low carb my friendships, what if I pack up and go, what if I stay little valentine stay, what if you take me with you, what if the dirty laundry takes over the house, what if I just numb the what ifs with sleep? huh? what?

Para não dizerem que a maluca sou eu...

Algumas pessoas do meu convívio, em vídeo, aqui.

Paráfrase

faz frio, e eu preciso de um pouco de silêncio pra pensar caminhos.

Bossa nova confessions

- I always liked people who knew about music.
- Oh, yes?
- Yes. Maybe because all the guys in my high school would talk about bands, and players, and all the stories and details, and I used to think "Wow. That's cool. I can't do that, but that's cool".
- So you like people who know classic rock?
- Yep.
.............
- What's that?
- That what?
- The radio. Who's the band?
- Led Zeppelin.
- See? I know nothing!
- That's Led Zeppeling! They were an important band! Robert Plant, Jimmy Page...
- That's the thing, I know names, I know they were important, I just haven't been exposed, I don't know how they sound.
- What? You didn't have Led Zeppelin in Brazil?
- Yes, bobo, we had Led Zeppelin in Brazil, but I was too busy listening to Tom Jobim. Besides, we didn't listen to music in my house, and I didn't hang out with friends to listen to music.
- Oooh... too nerdy?
- Yes... And besides, my girl friends didn't listen to classic rock.
- Oh, no? What did they do?
- We gossiped and shared secrets about boys who listened to classic rock.
- Was that a secret?
- Well, it was a secret that we liked them...

Turns out I still like boys who like classic rock, the same ones and new ones, and turns out some of them like Jobim too. They play the drums, they compose music, they like Hermeto, they collect records, they play Miles at the best times. Now ain't I lucky?

- Do you urubu?

Anti-consumerism-rant-slash-wish-list.

Even before I had a name and mounds of websites explaining it, I have been obsessing about the simple stuff. This year was all about simplyfing, simplicity, and so on.
Call it what you want, environmentalism, cheapness, reducing modern life stress...
Oh well, the holidays are coming. Despite the fact that I never celebrated Thanksgiving (or Halloween, for that matter), and that I'm away from my family (for the 6th straight year), I like the holidays. But I'm not looking forward to running around, singing carols, shopping, cooking, eating, getting fat, getting crazy, getting stuff.
Part of the problem is that I am not making money enough to shower my friends with gifts, but also I worked very hard on decluttering my house all year long to get caught in the whole thing.
I don't know if I'm being too radical, but I'm not alone: turns out I found some friends who are gonna advocate for buynothingday.org. Other websites (thanks, God) also have the same drift: buynothingchristmas and hundreddollarholidays.
So I'm seriously thinking about going tree-hugger on my friends and kinda preaching about my philosophy on acceptable gifts - I still like gifts, mind you.
This is a summary of whatever the radically simple people out there might suggest you give this Christmas and that I'm taking for my birthday (wink, wink) since I'll have a kick-ass party at Franklin's.

No-gift gifts

buyables

The moderates start the list with buyables, but they should be fair trade and everything, or consumables, like tea or coffee or chocolate, hmmmm, chocolate! Oh, and Vertigo has nice books always on sale - this is a little off-topic, but I just like them, they are a nice neighborhood store.

used

yours - Yes, I want your stuff. If you don't use it and think I'll like it, tell me why and I'll be happy to have something to remember you by.
thrift - Instead of buying something new, buy something at valuevillage or a garage sale, I'll still appreciate it as long as it doesn't smell musty (and it usually doesn't if it is a thrift store, they are careful about this stuff). A book (with a nice dedication, please) or a cd (cd exchange, right next to the gyro place) are good choices.
swap - I'm thinking about holding a swap party to exchange odds and ends (not as gifts, just as a recycling effort). There's always an outgrown sweater, the odd china, I don't know. Ellen, help me here.

home made

I don't really like the idea of going Martha on holidays, because it only adds to the end-of-year stress. Who wants to slave over arts and crafts if - let's be sincere - they are not gonna look that great afterwards? Unless, of course, it's something you do well and easily, like a compilation of your favorite songs or a notebook with recipes so easy even I can cook (there's a challenge!) or printed pictures of all the parties we went to this last year...

time

teach - C'mon, teach me, tiger. There are so many things I can't do: sing, cook, do laundry...
be my slave - Offer to cook for me, fix my computer or drive me around. I promise I won't be too demanding. And it doesn't have to be now, during the holidays.
quality time - Let's spend some time together... No, really, let's have dinner somewhere, go walking, talk, have tea.

memories

photos - Print me pictures. Add funny captions.
cds - Compile those tunes. No pagode, pleeeease.
performance - Sing for me! Write me a card!
artwork - But no breakables.
displays of affection - Give me a hug, for God's sake!!! It doesn't sound like it, but I'm pretty easy to please...