Achiever

via - http://web.mac.com/olibeale/Iloveyoubut/home.html

whether to be a
great cagey perfumed
beast
dying under the
sweet patronage
of Kings
& exist like luxuriant
flowers beneath the
emblems of their
Strange empire
or by mere insouciant
faith
slap them, call their cards
spit on fate & cast hell
to flames in usury

by dying, nobly
we could exist like
innocent trolls
propagate our revels
& give the finger to the
gods in our private
bedrooms

let's rather, maybe,
perhaps,
get fucking out in
the open & by
swelling, jubilantly,
Magnificently, end them

JIM MORRISON

with insomnia, you’re never really asleep; you’re never really awake.
everything’s a copy, of a copy, of a copy.

Q: What’s the most curious record in your collection?

A: In the seventies a record company in LA issued a record called “The best of Marcel Marceau.” It had forty minutes of silence followed by applause and it sold really well. I like to put it on for company. It really bothers me, though, when people talk through it.

Q: What are some unusual things that have been left behind in a cloakroom?

A: Well, Winston Churchill was born in a ladies cloakroom and was one sixteenth Iroquois.

Q: You’ve always enjoyed the connection between fashion and history…talk to us about that.

A: Ok let’s take the two-piece bathing suit, produced in 1947 by a French fashion designer. The sight of the first woman in the minimal two piece was as explosive as the detonation of the atomic bomb by the U.S. at Bikini Island in the Marshall Isles, hence the naming of the bikini.

Q: List some artists who have shaped your creative life.

A: Okay, here are a few that just come to me for now: Kerouac, Dylan, Bukowski, Rod Serling, Don Van Vliet, Cantinflas, James Brown, Harry Belafonte, Ma Rainey, Big Mama Thornton, Howlin’ Wolf, Lead Belly, Lord Buckley, Mabel Mercer, Lee Marvin, Thelonius Monk, John Ford, Fellini, Weegee, Jagger, Richards, Willie Dixion, John McCormick, Johnny Cash, Hank Williams, Frank Sinatra, Louis Armstrong, Robert Johnson, Hoagy Carmichael, Eurico Caruso.

Q: List some songs that were beacons for you.

A: Again, for now… but if you ask me tomorrow the list would change, of course. Gershwin’s second prelude, “Pathatique Sonata”, “El Paso”, “You’ve Really Got Me”, “Soldier Boy”, “Lean Back” , “Night Train”, “Come In My Kitchen”, “Sad Eyed Lady”, “Rite of Spring”, “Ode to Billy Joe”, “Louie Louie”, “Just a Fool”, “Prisoner of Love”, “Wang Dang Doodle (all night long)”, “Ringo” , “Ball and Chain”, “Deportee”, “Strange Fruit”, “Sophisticated Lady”, “Georgia On My Mind”, “Can’t Stop Loving You”, “Just Like A Woman”, “So Lonesome I Could Cry”, “Who’ll Stop The Rain?”, “Moon River”, “Autumn Leaves”, “Danny Boy”, “Dirty Ol’ Town”, “Waltzing Matilda”, “Train Keeps a Rollin”, “Boris the Spider”, “You’ve Really Got a Hold On Me”, “Red Right Hand”, “All Shook Up”, “Cause of It All”, “Shenandoah”, “China Pig”, “Summertime”,

“Without a Song”, “Auld Ang Syne”, “This is a Man’s World”, “Crawlin’ King Snake”, “Nassun Dorma”, “Bring it on Home to Me”, “Hound Dog”, “Hello Walls”, “You Win Again”, “Sunday Morn’ Coming Down”, “Almost Blue”, “Pump It Up”, “Greensleeves”, “Just Wanna See His Face”, “Restless Farewell”, “Fairytale of NY”, “Bring Me A Little Water Sylvie”, “Raglan Road”, “96 Tears”, “In Dreams”, “Substitute”, “Good Time Charlie’s Got The Blues”, “Theme from Rawhide”, “Same Thing”, “Walk Away Rene”, “For What it’s Worth”, theme from “Once Upon A Time In America”, “Nowadays Clancy Can’t Even Sing”, “Oh Holy Night”, “Mass in E Minor”, “Harlem Shuffle”, “Trouble Man”, “Wade in The Water”, “Empty Bed Blues”, “Hava Nagila”

Q: What’s heaven for you?

A: Me and my wife on Rte. 66 with a pot of coffee, a cheap guitar, pawnshop tape recorder in a Motel 6, and a car that runs good parked right by the door.

Q: What’s hard for you?

A: Mostly I straddle reality and the imagination. My reality needs imagination like a bulb needs a socket. My imagination needs reality like a blind man needs a cane. Math is hard. Reading a map. Following orders. Carpentry. Electronics. Plumbing. Remembering things correctly. Straight lines. Sheet rock. Finding a safety pin. Patience with others. Ordering in Chinese. Stereo instructions in German.

Q: What’s wrong with the world?

A: We are buried beneath the weight of information, which is being confused with knowledge; quantity is being confused with abundance and wealth with happiness. Leona Helmsley’s dog made 12 million last year… and Dean McLaine, a farmer in Ohio made $30,000. It’s just a gigantic version of the madness that grows in every one of our brains. We are monkeys with money and guns.

Q: Favorite scenes in movies?

A: R. De Niro in the ring in Raging Bull. Julie Christie’s face in Heaven Can Wait when she said, “Would you like to get a cup of coffee?” James Dean in East of Eden telling the nurse to get out when his dad has had a stroke and he’s sitting by his bed. Marlene Dietrich in Touch of Evil saying “He was some kind of man.” Scout saying “Hey Mr. Cunningham” in the scene in To Kill A Mockingbird. Nic Cage falling apart in the drug store in Matchstick Men…and eating a cockroach in Vampire’s Kiss. The last scene in Chinatown.

Q: Can you describe a few other scenes from movies that have always stayed with you?

A: Rod Steiger in The Pawnbroker explaining to the Puerto Rican all about gold. Brando in The Godfather dying in the tomatoes with scary orange teeth. Lee Marvin in Emperor of The North riding under the box car, Borgnine bouncing steel off his ass. Dennis Weaver at the motel saying “I am just the night man,” holding onto a small tree in, Touch of Evil. The hanging in Oxbow Incident. The speech by Rutger Hauer in Blade Runner as he’s dying. Anthony Quinn dancing on the beach in Zorba. Nicholson in Witches of Eastwick covered in feathers in the church as the ladies stick needles in the voodoo doll. When Mel Gibson’s Blue Healer gets shot with an arrow in Road Warrior. When Rachel in The Exorcist says “could you help an old altar boy father?” The blind guy in the tavern in Treasure Island. Frankenstein after he strangles the young girl by the river.

Q: Can you tell me an odd thing that happened in an odd place? Any thoughts?

A: A Japanese freighter had been torpedoed during WWII and it’s at the bottom of Tokyo Harbor with a large hole in her hull. A team of engineers was called together to solve the problem of raising the wounded vessel to the surface. One of the engineers tackling this puzzle said he remembered seeing a Donald Duck cartoon when he was a boy where there was a boat at the bottom of the ocean with a hole in its hull, and they injected it with ping-pong balls and it floated up. The skeptical group laughed but one of the experts was willing to give it a try. Of course, where in the world would you find twenty million ping-pong balls but in Tokyo? It turned out to be the perfect solution. The balls were injected into the hull and it floated to the surface, the engineer was elated. Moral solutions to problems are always found at an entirely different level; also, believe in yourself in the face of impossible odds.

Q: Most interesting recording you own?

A: It’s a mysteriously beautiful recording from, I am told, Robbie Robertson’s label. It’s of crickets. That’s right, crickets, the first time I heard it… I swore I was listening to the Vienna Boys Choir, or the Mormon Tabernacle choir. It has a four-part harmony it is a swaying choral panorama. Then a voice comes in on the tape and says, “What you are listening to is the sound of crickets. The only thing that has been manipulated is that they slowed down the tape.” No effects have been added of any kind except that they changed the speed of the tape. The sound is so haunting. I played it for Charlie Musselwhite and he looked at me as if I pulled a Leprechaun out of my pocket.

Q: You are fascinated with irony, what is irony?

A: Chevrolet was puzzled when they discovered that their sales for the Chevy Nova were off the charts everywhere but in Latin America. They finally realized that “Nova” in Spanish translates to “no go.” Not the best name for a car… anywhere “no va”.

Q: Do you have words to live by?

A: Jim Jarmusch once told me “Fast, Cheap, and Good… pick two. If it’s fast and cheap it wont be good. If it’s cheap and good it won’t be fast. If it’s fast and good it wont be cheap.” Fast, cheap and good… pick (2) words to live by.

Q: What is on Hemmingway’s gravestone?

A: “Pardon me for not getting up.”

Q: How would you compare guitarists Marc Ribot and Smokey Hormel?

A: Octopus have eight and squid have ten tentacles,

each with hundreds of suction cups and each have the power to burst a man’s artery. They have small birdlike beaks used to inject venom into a victim. Some gigantic squid and octopus with one hundred foot tentacles have been reported. Squids have been known to pull down entire boats to feed on the disoriented sailors in the water. Many believe unexplained, sunken deep-sea vessels, and entire boat disappearances are the handiwork of giant squid.

Q: What have you learned from parenthood?

A: “Never loan your car to anyone to whom you’ve given birth.” - Erma Bombeck

Q: Now Tom, for the grand prize… who said, “He’s the kind of man a woman would have to marry to get rid of”?

A: Mae West

Q: Who said, “Half the people in America are just faking it”?

A: Robert Mitchum (who actually died in his sleep). I think he was being generous and kind when he said that.

Q: What remarkable things have you found in unexpected places?

A:

1. Real beauty: oil stains left by cars in a parking lot.

2. Shoe shine stands that looked like thrones in Brazil made of scrap wood.

3. False teeth in pawnshop windows- Reno, NV.

4. Great acoustics: in jail.

5. Best food: Airport in Tulsa Oklahoma.

6. Most gift shops: Fatima, Portugal.

8. Most unlikely location for a Chicano crowd:

A Morrissey concert.

9. Most poverty: Washington D.C.

10. A homeless man with a beautiful operatic voice singing the word “Bacteria” in an empty dumpster in Chinatown.

11. A Chinese man with a Texan accent in Scotland.

12. Best nights sleep-in a dry riverbed in Arizona.

13. Most people who wear red pants- St. Louis.

14. Most beautiful horses, N.Y.C.

15. A judge in Baltimore MD1890 presided over a trial where a man who was accused of murder and was guilty, and convicted by a jury of his peers… and was let go- when the judge said to him at the end of the trial “You are guilty sir… but I cannot put in jail an innocent man.” You see - the murderer was a Siamese twin.

16. Largest penis (in proportion to its body) - The Barnacle.

Q: Tom, you love words and their origins. For $2,000…what is the origin of the word bedlam?

A: It’s a contraction of the word Bethlehem. It comes from the hospital of Saint Mary of Bethlehem outside London. The hospital began admitting mental patients in the late fourteenth century. In the sixteenth century it became a lunatic asylum. The word bedlam came to be used for any madhouse- and by extension, for any scene of noisy confusion.

Q: What is up with your ears?

A: I have an audio stigmatism where by I hear things wrong- I have audio illusions. I guess now they say ADD. I have a scrambler in my brain and it takes what is said and turns it into pig Latin and feeds it back to me.

Q: Most thrilling musical experience?

A: My most thrilling musical experience was in Time Square, over thirty years ago. There was a rehearsal hall around the Brill Building where all the rooms were divided into tiny spaces with just enough room to open the door. Inside was a spinet piano - cigarette burns, missing keys, old paint and no pedals. You go in and close the door and it’s so loud from other rehearsals you can’t really work- so you stop and listen and the goulash of music was thrilling. Scales on a clarinet, tango, light opera, sour string quartet, voice lessons, someone belting out “Everything’s Coming Up Roses”, garage bands, and piano lessons. The floor was pulsing, the walls were thin. As if ten radios were on at the same time, in the same room. It was a train station of music with all the sounds milling around… for me it was heavenly.

Q: What would you have liked to see but were born too late for?

A: Vaudeville. So much mashing of cultures and bizarre hybrids. Delta Blues guitarists and Hawaiian artists thrown together resulting in the adoption of the slide guitar as a language we all take for granted as African American. But it was a cross pollination, like most culture. Like all cultures. George Burns was a vaudeville performer I particularly loved. Dry and unflappable, curious, and funny – no matter what he said. He could dance too. He said, “Too bad the only people that know how to run the country are busy driving cabs and cutting hair.”

Q: What is a gentleman?

A: A man who can play the accordion, but doesn’t.

Q: Favorite Bucky Fuller quote?

A: “Fire is the sun unwinding itself from the wood”.

Q: What do you wonder about?

A:

1. Do bullets know whom they are intended for?

2. Is there a plug in the bottom of the ocean?

3. What do jockeys say to their horses?

4. How does a newspaper feel about winding up papier-mâché?

5. How does it feel to be a tree by a freeway?

6. Sometimes a violin sounds like a Siamese cat; the first violin strings were made from cat gut- any connection?

7. When is the world going to rear up and scrape us off its back.

8. Will we humans eventually intermarry with robots?

9. Is a diamond just a piece of coal with patience?

10. Did Ella Fitzgerald really break that wine glass with her voice?

Q: What are some sounds you like?

A:

1. An asymmetrical airline carousel created a high pitched haunted voice brought on by the friction of rubbing and it sounded like a big wet finger circling the rim of a gigantic wine glass.

2. Street corner evangelists

3. Pile drivers in Manhattan

4. My wife’s singing voice

5. Horses coming/trains coming

6. Children when school’s out

7. Hungry crows

8. Orchestra tuning up

9. Saloon pianos in old westerns

10. Rollercoaster

11. Headlights hit by a shotgun

12. Ice melting

13. Printing presses

14. Ball game on a transistor radio

15. Piano lessons coming from an apartment window

16. Old cash registers/Ca Ching

17. Muscle cars

18. Tap dancers

19. Soccer crowds in Argentina

20. Beatboxing

21. Fog horns

22. A busy restaurant kitchen

23. Newsrooms in old movies

24. Elephants stampeding

25. Bacon frying

26. Marching bands

27. Clarinet lessons

28. Victrola

29. A fight bell

30. Chinese arguments

31. Pinball machines

32. Children’s orchestras

33. Trolley bell

34. Firecrackers

35. A Zippo lighter

36. Calliopes

37. Bass steel drums

38. Tractors

39. Stroh Violin

40. Muted trumpet

41. Tobacco Auctioneers

42. Musical Saw

43. Theremin

44. Pigeons

45. Seagulls

46. Owls

47. Mockingbirds

48. Doves

The world’s making music all the time.

Q: What’s scary to you?

A:

1. A dead man in the backseat of a car with a fly crawling on his eyeball.

2. Turbulence on any airline.

3. Sirens and search lights combined.

4. Gunfire at night in bad neighborhoods.

5. Car motor turning over but not starting, its getting dark and starting to rain.

6. Jail door closing.

7. Going around a sharp curve on the Pacific Coast Highway and the driver of your car has had a heart attack and died, and you’re in the back seat.

8. You are delivering mail and you are confronted with a Doberman with rabies growling low and showing teeth…you have no dog bones and he wants to bite your ass off.

9. In a movie…which wire do you cut to stop the time bomb, the green or the blue.

10. Mc Cain will win.

11. Germans with submachine guns.

12. Officers, in offices, being official.

13. You fell through the ice in the creek and it carried you down stream, and now as you surface you realize there’s a roof of ice.

Q: Tell me about working with Terry Gilliam.

A: I am the Devil in the Imaginarium of Dr. Parnassus– not a devil… The Devil. I don’t know why he thought of me. I was raised in the church. Gilliam and I met on Fisher King. He is a giant among men and I am in awe of his films. Munchausen I’ve seen a hundred times. Brazil is a crowning achievement. Brothers Grimm was my favorite film last year. I had most of my scenes with Christopher Plummer (He’s Dr. Parnassus). Plummer is one of the greatest actors on earth! Mostly I watch and learn. He’s a real movie star and a gentleman. Gilliam is an impresario, captain, magician, a dictator (a nice one), a genius, and a man you’d want in the boat with you at the end of the world.

Q: Give me some fresh song titles you two are working on.

A: “Ghetto Buddha”, “Waiting For My Good Luck To Come”, “I’ll Be an Oak Tree Some Day”, “In the Cage”, “Hell Broke Loose”, “Spin The Bottle”, “High and Lonesome.”

Q: You’re going on the road soon, right?

A: We’re going to PEHDTSCKJMBA (Phoenix, El Paso, Houston, Dallas, Tulsa, St. Louis, Columbus, Knoxville, Jacksonville, Mobile, Birmingham, Atlanta). I have a stellar band: Larry Taylor (upright bass), Patrick Warren (keyboards), Omar Torrez (guitars), Vincent Henry (woodwinds) and Casey Waits (drums and percussion). They play with racecar precision and they are all true conjurers. I’m doing songs with them I’ve never attempted outside the studio. They are all multi-instrumentalists and they polka like real men. We are the Borman Six and as Putney says, “The Borman Six have got to have soul.”

http://www.antilabelblog.com/?p=288#more-288 - by Gina

Virgin No. 1: Yuck.
Virgin No. 2: Ick.
Virgin No. 3: Ew.
Virgin No. 4: Ow.
Virgin No. 5: Do you like cats? I have fourteen!
Virgin No. 6: I’m Becky. I’ll be legal in two years.
Virgin No. 7: Here, I’ll just pull down your zipper. Oh, sorry!
Virgin No. 8: Can we cuddle first?
Virgin No. 9: It was a garlic-and-onion pizza. Why?
Virgin No. 10: … so I see Heath, and he goes, “Like, what are you doing here?,” and I go, “I’m hangin’ out,” so he goes, “Like, what?” …
Virgin No. 11: First you’re going to have to show me an up-to-date health certificate.
Virgin No. 12: Hurry! My parents are due home!
Virgin No. 13: Do you want the regular or the special?
Virgin No. 14: I’m eighty-four. So what?
Virgin No. 15: Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes!
Virgin No. 16: Even I know that’s tiny.
Virgin No. 17: “Do it”? Meaning what?
Virgin No. 18: I’m saving myself for Jesus.
Virgin No. 19: Somewhere on my body I have hidden a buffalo nickel.
Virgin No. 20: Don’t touch my hair!
Virgin No. 21: I hope you’re not going to sleep with me and then go sleep with seventy-one others.
Virgin No. 22: Do you mind if we listen to Mannheim Steamroller?
Virgin No. 23: Are you O.K. with the dog on the bed?
Virgin No. 24: Would you mind saying, “Could I see you in my office, Miss Witherspoon?”?
Virgin No. 25: Ride me! Ride me, Lucky Buck!
Virgin No. 26: You like your vanilla hot?
Virgin No. 27: Does Ookums like Snookums?
Virgin No. 28: It’s so romantic here, dead.
Virgin No. 29: Well, I’m a virgin, but my hand isn’t.
Virgin No. 30: You are in?
Virgin No. 31: Hi, cowboy. I just rode down from Brokeback Mountain.
Virgin No. 32: I’m a virgin because I’m so ugly.
Virgin No. 33: You like-ee?
Virgin No. 34: I’ll betcha you can’t get an erection. Go on, impress me. C’mon, show me. Show me, big shot.
Virgin No. 35: By the way, here in Heaven “virgin” has a slightly different meaning. It means “chatty.”
Virgin No. 36: Sure, I like you, but as a friend.
Virgin No. 37: No kissing. I save that for my boyfriend.
Virgin No. 38: I’m Zania, from the planet Xeron. My vagina is on my foot.
Virgin No. 39: It’s a lesion, and, no, I don’t know what kind.
Virgin No. 40: I’m Jewish. Why do you ask?
Virgin No. 41: Hi, I’m Becky. Oh, whoops—you again.
Virgin No. 42: I just love camping! Camping is so great! Can we go camping sometime?
Virgin No. 43: In the spirit of full disclosure, I’m a single mom.
Virgin No. 44: You like my breasts? They were my graduation gift.
Virgin No. 45: When you’re done, you should really check out how cool this ceiling is.
Virgin No. 46: I’m almost there. Just another couple of hours.
Virgin No. 47: Get your own beer, you nitwit.
Virgin No. 48: No, you’ve got it wrong. We’re in the Paradise Casino.
Virgin No. 49: I really enjoyed that. Thank you very much. Gee, it’s late.
Virgin No. 50: You make me feel like a real woman. And after this is over I’m going to find one.
Virgin No. 51: What do you mean, “move a little”?
Virgin No. 52: Not now, I’m on my BlackBerry.
Virgin No. 53: I love it when you put on your pants and leave.
Virgin No. 54: We’ve been together twenty-four hours now, and, you know, sometimes it’s O.K. to say something mildly humorous.
Virgin No. 55: That was terrible. I should have listened to the other virgins.
Virgin No. 56: I think I found it. Is that it? Oh. Is this it? Oh, this must be it. No?
Virgin No. 57: It must be hot in here, because I know it’s not me.
Virgin No. 58: Those are my testicles.
Virgin No. 59: Did you know that “virgin” is an anagram of Irving?
Virgin No. 60: First “Spamalot,” then sex.
Virgin No. 61: Great! I was hoping for circumcised.
Virgin No. 62: Was that it?
Virgin No. 63: Dang. George Clooney was being reckless on a motorcycle, but instead I got you.
Virgin No. 64: Tonight, I become a woman. But until then you can call me Bob.
Virgin No. 65: They’re called “adult diapers.” Why?
Virgin No. 66: We could do it here for free, or on a stage in Düsseldorf for money.
Virgin No. 67: I’m just Virgin No. 67 to you, right?
Virgin No. 68: Pee-yoo. Are you wearing Aramis?
Virgin No. 69: Condom, please.
Virgin No. 70: My name is Mother Teresa.
Virgin No. 71: I’m not very good at this, but let’s start with the Reverse Lotus Blossom.
Virgin No. 72: It was paradise, until you showed up. ♦

By Steve Martin

We've come a long way
said the Cigarette Scientist
as he destroyed a live rabbit
to show the students how it worked.

He took its heart out
plugged it into an electric pump
that kept it beating for nearly two hours.

I know rabbits who can keep their hearts
beating for nearly seven years.

And look at the electricity they save.

Spike Milligan

On The Ning Nang Nong

On the Ning Nang Nong Where the cows go Bong!
And the monkeys all say Boo!
There's a Nong Nang Ning
Where the trees go Ping
And the tea pots Jibber Jabber Joo.
On the Nong Ning Nang
All the mice go Clang!
And you just can't catch 'em when they do!
So it's Ning Nang Nong!
Cows go Bong!
Nong Nang Ning!
Trees go Ping!
Nong Ning Nang!
The mice go Clang!
What a noisy place to belong,
Is the Ning Nang Ning Nang Nong!

Spike Milligan

The House

They are building a house
half a block down
and I sit up here
with the shades down
listening to the sounds,
the hammers pounding in nails,
thack thack thack thack,
and then I hear birds,
and thack thack thack,
and I go to bed,
I pull the covers to my throat;
they have been building this house
for a month, and soon it will have
its people...sleeping, eating,
loving, moving around,
but somehow
now
it is not right,
there seems a madness,
men walk on top with nails
in their mouths
and I read about Castro and Cuba,
and at night I walk by
and the ribs of the house show
and inside I can see cats walking
the way cats walk,
and then a boy rides by on a bicycle
and still the house is not done
and in the morning the men
will be back
walking around on the house
with their hammers,
and it seems people should not build houses
anymore,
it seems people should not get married
anymore,
it seems people should stop working
and sit in small rooms
on 2nd floors
under electric lights without shades;
it seems there is a lot to forget
and a lot not to do,
and in drugstores, markets, bars,
the people are tired, they do not want
to move, and I stand there at night
and look through this house and the
house does not want to be built;
through its sides I can see the purple hills
and the first lights of evening,
and it is cold
and I button my coat
and I stand there looking through the house
and the cats stop and look at me
until I am embarrased
and move North up the sidewalk
where I will buy
cigarettes and beer
and return to my room.

—Charles Bukowski

The Grown-Up

my sweet old etcetera
aunt lucy during the recent
war could and what
is more did tell you just
what everybody was fighting

for,
my sister

isabel created hundreds
(and
hundreds) of socks not to
mention shirts fleaproof earwarmers

etcetera wristers etcetera, my

mother hoped that

i would die etcetera
bravely of course my father used
to become hoarse talking about how it was
a privilege and if only he
could meanwhile my

self etcetera lay quietly
in the deep mud et

cetera
(dreaming,
et
cetera, of
Your smile
eyes knees and of your Etcetera)

Hoje estava capaz de me ir embora: pegar nas chaves do carro sem motivo nenhum

(as chaves estão sempre no prato da entrada)

descer as escadas

(não descer pelo elevador, descer as escadas)

até à garagem da cave, ver o fecho eléctrico abrir-se com dois estalos e dois sinais de luzes, ver a porta automática subir devagarinho e logo na rua acelerar o mais possível, queimando semáforos, na direcção da auto-estrada, sem ligar aos painéis que indicam as cidades e a distância em quilómetros, sem uma ideia na cabeça, sem destino, sem mais nada para além da pressa de ir-me embora, colocar entre mim e mim o maior espaço possível, esquecer-me do meu nome, dos nomes dos meus amigos, da minha família, do diário que deixei não sei onde no Estoril e me persegue. Parar num desses restaurantes das bombas de gasolina à beira das portagens e comer sem olhar para ninguém, sem reparar em ninguém nem sequer nas crianças que correm entre as mesas e acelerar de novo segurando o volante com força tal como em pequena segurava o guiador da bicicleta enquanto o meu pai

ou a minha mãe?

julgo que o meu pai, corria ao meu lado ensinando-me a pedalar

Hoje estava capaz de me ir embora: as paredes da casa apertam-me, tudo me parece tão pequeno, tão inútil, tão estranho. Entrar na cozinha. Fazer o almoço. Servi-lo. Esperar pela refeição seguinte. Apagar o fogão. Servi-la. Atender a meio da tarde a voz do meu marido a saber como estou, receber as cartas da Ana de que não compreendo o endereço. Abandonar os telefonemas e as cartas também. Hoje estou mesmo capaz de me ir embora antes que fique louca como os cães, correndo em círculos na noite. Se chegar à janela verifico que o frio humedeceu de orvalho as tampas dos caixotes do lixo e apenas uma janela acesa num prédio lá em baixo. Dir-se-ia que mais ninguém senão eu continua viva. Eu e o telefone que apesar de calado parece prestes a romper aos gritos. As minhas costelas respiram contra o vidro. No parque de estacionamento em frente à casa um pombo morto. Ou uma gaivota. Um bicho qualquer. As tampas dos caixotes de lixo reflectem os candeeiros em nódoas coalhadas e fixas. Faço-me uma careta nos caixilhos.

(...)

Hoje estava capaz de me ir embora. Sem espalhafato, sem conversas, sem explicações, sem essa espiadela de passagem a verificar se o cabelo está certo. Há muitos anos, em Tomar, conheci uma senhora de idade, amiga da minha avó, que estava a morrer. A certa altura perguntou-me

- Não me achas um bocadinho cansada Maria Clara?

e na manhã seguinte vieram os homens da agência e colocaram-na no caixão. A filha disse-me que depois da pergunta

- Não me achas um bocadinho cansada Maria Clara?

a senhora de idade pediu um dedo de Madeira às escondidas da gente. Metade derramou-se no pescoço mas a metade que engoliu animou-a. Era viúva há que tempos e não esperava grande coisa de ninguém. Se um dia voltar a Tomar

(nunca voltarei a Tomar)

levo-lhe uma garrafa de Madeira à sepultura e deixo-lha sobre o mármore, no meio das jarrinhas de flores. Aproximo-me da janela e lá estão as tampas dos caixotes do lixo húmidas de orvalho. As árvores do parque serenaram por fim. Ligo a televisão. Não entendo o que se passa no ecrã mas continuo a ver. Uma menina sorri-me do aparelho. Infelizmente o sorriso dura pouco tempo. Se calhar nem sequer um sorriso. Se calhar sou apenas eu que preciso de um sorriso. Há momentos na vida em que necessitamos tanto de um sorriso. À falta de melhor toco-me com o dedo no vidro.

INTIMATIONS OF IMMORTALITY FROM RECOLLECTIONS OF EARLY CHILDHOOD

                                    I

         THERE was a time when meadow, grove, and stream,
         The earth, and every common sight,
                   To me did seem
                 Apparelled in celestial light,
         The glory and the freshness of a dream.
         It is not now as it hath been of yore;--
                 Turn wheresoe'er I may,
                   By night or day,
         The things which I have seen I now can see no more.

                                  II

                 The Rainbow comes and goes,
                 And lovely is the Rose,
                 The Moon doth with delight
           Look round her when the heavens are bare,
                 Waters on a starry night
                 Are beautiful and fair;
             The sunshine is a glorious birth;
             But yet I know, where'er I go,
         That there hath past away a glory from the earth.

                                 III

         Now, while the birds thus sing a joyous song,
             And while the young lambs bound
                 As to the tabor's sound,
         To me alone there came a thought of grief:
         A timely utterance gave that thought relief,
                 And I again am strong:
         The cataracts blow their trumpets from the steep;
         No more shall grief of mine the season wrong;
         I hear the Echoes through the mountains throng,
         The Winds come to me from the fields of sleep,
                 And all the earth is gay;
                     Land and sea
             Give themselves up to jollity,
                 And with the heart of May
             Doth every Beast keep holiday;--
                 Thou Child of Joy,
         Shout round me, let me hear thy shouts, thou happy
                   Shepherd-boy!

                                  IV

         Ye blessed Creatures, I have heard the call
             Ye to each other make; I see
         The heavens laugh with you in your jubilee;
             My heart is at your festival,
             My head hath its coronal,
         The fulness of your bliss, I feel--I feel it all.
             Oh evil day! if I were sullen
             While Earth herself is adorning,
                 This sweet May-morning,
             And the Children are culling
                 On every side,
             In a thousand valleys far and wide,
             Fresh flowers; while the sun shines warm,
         And the Babe leaps up on his Mother's arm:--
             I hear, I hear, with joy I hear!
             --But there's a Tree, of many, one,
         A single Field which I have looked upon,
         Both of them speak of something that is gone:
             The Pansy at my feet
             Doth the same tale repeat:
         Whither is fled the visionary gleam?
         Where is it now, the glory and the dream?

                                  V

         Our birth is but a sleep and a forgetting:
         The Soul that rises with us, our life's Star,
             Hath had elsewhere its setting,
               And cometh from afar:
             Not in entire forgetfulness,
             And not in utter nakedness,
         But trailing clouds of glory do we come
             From God, who is our home:
         Heaven lies about us in our infancy!
         Shades of the prison-house begin to close
             Upon the growing Boy,
         But He beholds the light, and whence it flows,
             He sees it in his joy;
         The Youth, who daily farther from the east
             Must travel, still is Nature's Priest,
             And by the vision splendid
             Is on his way attended;
         At length the Man perceives it die away,
         And fade into the light of common day.

                                  VI

         Earth fills her lap with pleasures of her own;
         Yearnings she hath in her own natural kind,
         And, even with something of a Mother's mind,
             And no unworthy aim,
             The homely Nurse doth all she can
         To make her Foster-child, her Inmate Man,
             Forget the glories he hath known,
         And that imperial palace whence he came.

                                 VII

         Behold the Child among his new-born blisses,
         A six years' Darling of a pigmy size!
         See, where 'mid work of his own hand he lies,
         Fretted by sallies of his mother's kisses,
         With light upon him from his father's eyes!
         See, at his feet, some little plan or chart,
         Some fragment from his dream of human life,
         Shaped by himself with newly-learned art;
             A wedding or a festival,
             A mourning or a funeral;
                 And this hath now his heart,
             And unto this he frames his song:
                 Then will he fit his tongue
         To dialogues of business, love, or strife;
             But it will not be long
             Ere this be thrown aside,
             And with new joy and pride
         The little Actor cons another part;
         Filling from time to time his "humorous stage"
         With all the Persons, down to palsied Age,
         That Life brings with her in her equipage;
             As if his whole vocation
             Were endless imitation.

                                 VIII

         Thou, whose exterior semblance doth belie
             Thy Soul's immensity;
         Thou best Philosopher, who yet dost keep
         Thy heritage, thou Eye among the blind,
         That, deaf and silent, read'st the eternal deep,
         Haunted for ever by the eternal mind,--
             Mighty Prophet! Seer blest!
             On whom those truths do rest,
         Which we are toiling all our lives to find,
         In darkness lost, the darkness of the grave;
         Thou, over whom thy Immortality
         Broods like the Day, a Master o'er a Slave,
         A Presence which is not to be put by;
         Thou little Child, yet glorious in the might
         Of heaven-born freedom on thy being's height,
         Why with such earnest pains dost thou provoke
         The years to bring the inevitable yoke,
         Thus blindly with thy blessedness at strife?
         Full soon thy Soul shall have her earthly freight,
         And custom lie upon thee with a weight
         Heavy as frost, and deep almost as life!

                                  IX

             O joy! that in our embers
             Is something that doth live,
             That nature yet remembers
             What was so fugitive!
         The thought of our past years in me doth breed
         Perpetual benediction: not indeed
         For that which is most worthy to be blest--
         Delight and liberty, the simple creed
         Of Childhood, whether busy or at rest,
         With new-fledged hope still fluttering in his breast:--
             Not for these I raise
             The song of thanks and praise;
           But for those obstinate questionings
           Of sense and outward things,
           Fallings from us, vanishings;
           Blank misgivings of a Creature
         Moving about in worlds not realised,
         High instincts before which our mortal Nature
         Did tremble like a guilty Thing surprised:
             But for those first affections,
             Those shadowy recollections,
           Which, be they what they may,
         Are yet the fountain light of all our day,
         Are yet a master light of all our seeing;
           Uphold us, cherish, and have power to make
         Our noisy years seem moments in the being
         Of the eternal Silence: truths that wake,
             To perish never;
         Which neither listlessness, nor mad endeavour,
             Nor Man nor Boy,
         Nor all that is at enmity with joy,
         Can utterly abolish or destroy!
             Hence in a season of calm weather
             Though inland far we be,
         Our Souls have sight of that immortal sea
             Which brought us hither,
             Can in a moment travel thither,
         And see the Children sport upon the shore,
         And hear the mighty waters rolling evermore.

                                  X

         Then sing, ye Birds, sing, sing a joyous song!
             And let the young Lambs bound
             As to the tabor's sound!
         We in thought will join your throng,
             Ye that pipe and ye that play,
             Ye that through your hearts to-day
             Feel the gladness of the May!
         What though the radiance which was once so bright
         Be now for ever taken from my sight,
             Though nothing can bring back the hour
         Of splendour in the grass, of glory in the flower;
             We will grieve not, rather find
             Strength in what remains behind;
             In the primal sympathy
             Which having been must ever be;
             In the soothing thoughts that spring
             Out of human suffering;
             In the faith that looks through death,
         In years that bring the philosophic mind.

                                  XI

         And O, ye Fountains, Meadows, Hills, and Groves,
         Forebode not any severing of our loves!
         Yet in my heart of hearts I feel your might;
         I only have relinquished one delight
         To live beneath your more habitual sway.
         I love the Brooks which down their channels fret,
         Even more than when I tripped lightly as they;
         The innocent brightness of a new-born Day
                     Is lovely yet;
         The Clouds that gather round the setting sun
         Do take a sober colouring from an eye
         That hath kept watch o'er man's mortality;
         Another race hath been, and other palms are won.
         Thanks to the human heart by which we live,
         Thanks to its tenderness, its joys, and fears,
         To me the meanest flower that blows can give
         Thoughts that do often lie too deep for tears.

In the years when we were

all children, this inclining

to be alone so much was gentle;

others' time passed fighting,

and one had one's faction,

one's near, one's far-off place,

a path, an animal, a picture.

And I still imagined, that life

would always keep providing

for one to dwell on things within,

Am I within myself not in what's greatest?

Shall what's mine no longer soothe

and understand me as a child?

Suddenly I'm as if cast out,

and this solitude surrounds me

as something vast and unbounded,

when my feeling, standing on the hills

of my breasts, cries out for wings

or for an end.

Rainer Maria Rilke - outra vez, claro.
Translated by  Edward Snow

Went out to the hazel wood,
Because a fire was in my head,
And cut and peeled a hazel wand,
And hooked a berry to a thread;

And when white moths were on the wing,
And moth-like stars were flickering out,
I dropped the berry in a stream
And caught a little silver trout.

When I had laid it on the floor
I went to blow the fire a-flame,
But something rustled on the floor,
And some one called me by my name:
It had become a glimmering girl
With apple blossom in her hair
Who called me by my name and ran
And faded through the brightening air.

Though I am old with wandering
Through hollow lands and hilly lands,
I will find out where she has gone,
And kiss her lips and take her hands;
And walk among long dappled grass,
And pluck till time and times are done
The silver apples of the moon,
The golden apples of the sun.

WHEN ONE HAS LIVED
A LONG TIME ALONE

1
When one has lived a long time alone,
one refrains from swatting the fly
and let's him go, and one hesitates to strike
the mosquito, though more than willing to slap
the flesh under her, and one lifts the toad
from the pit too deep to hop out of
and carries him to the grass, without minding
the poisoned urine he slicks his body with,
and one envelops, in a towel, the swift
who fell down the chimney and knocks herself
against window glass and releases her outside
and watches her fly free, a life line flung at reality,
When one has lived a long time alone.

2
When one has lived a long time alone,
one grabs the snake behind the head
and holds him until he stops trying to stick
the orange tongue - which splits at the end
into two black filaments and jumps out
like a fire-eater's belches and has little
in common with the pimpled pink lumps that shapes
sounds and sleeps inside the human mouth -
into one's flesh, and clamps it between his jaws,
letting the gaudy tips show, as children do
when concentrating, and as very likely
one does oneself, without knowing it,
when one has lived a long time alone.

3
When one has lived a long time alone,
among regrets so immense the past occupies
nearly all the room there is in consciousness,
one notices in the snake's eyes, which look back
without giving any less attention to the future,
the first coating of the opaque, mikly-blue
leucoma snakes get when about to throw their skins
and become new - meanwhile continuing,
of course, to grow old - the same bleu Passe
that bleaches the corneas of the blue-eyed
when they lie back at the end and look for heaven,
a fading one knows means they will never find it
when one has lived a long time alone.

4
When one has lived along time alone,
one holds the snake near the loudspeaker disgorging
gorgeous sounds and watches him crook
his forepart into four right angles,
as though trying to slow down the music
flowing through him, in order to absorb it
like milk of paradise into the flesh,
until a glimmering appears at his mouth,
such a drop of intense fluid as, among humans,
could form after long exciting at the tip
of the penis, and as he straightens himself out
he has the pathos one finds in the penis,
when one has lived a long time alone.

5
When one has lived a long time alone,
one falls to poring upon a creature,
contrasting it’s eternity’s-face to one’s own
full of hours, taking note of each difference,
exaggerating it, making it everything,
until the other is utterly other, and then,
with hard effort, possibly with tongue sticking out,
going back over each difference once again
and canceling it, seeing nothing now
but likeness, until ... half an hour later
one stares awake, taken aback at how eagerly
one drops off into the happiness of kinship,
when one has lived a long time alone.

6
When one has lived a long time alone
and listens at morning to mourning doves
sound their kyrie eleison, or the small thing
spiritualized upon a twig cry, “pewit-pheobe!”
or at midday grasshoppers scratch the thighs’
needfire awake, or peabody birds send schoolboys’
whistlings across the field, and at dusk, undamped,
unforgiving chinks, as from marble cutters’ chisels,
or at nightfall polliwogs just burst into frogs
raise their ave verum corpus – listens to those
who hop or fly call down upon us the mercy
of other tongues – one hears them as inner voices,
when one has lived a long time alone.

7
When one has lived a long time alone,
one knows that consciousness consummates,
and as the conscious one among these others
uttering their compulsory cries of being here -
the least flycatcher witching up “che-bec!”
or red-headed woodpecker clanging out his music
from a metal drainpipe, or ruffed grouse drumming
“thrump thrump thrump thrump-thrump-
thrump-thrump-rup-rup-ruprup-rup-r-r-r-r-r-r”
deep in the woods, all of them in time’s unfolding
trying to cry themselves into self-knowing -
one knows one is here to hear them into shining,
when one has lived a long time alone.

8
When one has lived a long time alone,
one likes alike the pig, who brooks no deferment
of gratification, and the porcupine, or thorned pig,
who enters the cellar but not the house itself
because of eating down the cellar stairs on the way up,
and one likes the worm, who by bunching herself together
and expanding works her way through the ground,
no less than the butterfly, who totters full of worry
among the day lilies, as they darken,
and more and more one finds one likes
any other species better than one’s own,
which has gone amok, making one self-estranged,
when one has lived a long time alone.

9
When one has lived a long time alone,
sour, misanthropic, one fits to one’s defiance
the satanic boast, it is better to reign
than submit on earth, and forgets
one’s kind – the way by now the snake does,
who stops trying to get to the floor and lingers
all across one’s body – slumping into its contours,
adopting its temperature – and abandons hope
of the sweetness of friendship or love,
before long can barely remember what they are,
and covets the stillness in inorganic matter,
in a self-dissolution one may not know how to halt,
when one has lived a long time alone.

10
When one has lived a long time alone,
and the hermit thrush calls and there is an answer,
and the bullfrog head half out of water repeats
the sexual cantillations of his first spring,
and the snake lowers himself over the threshold
and disappears among the stones, one sees
they all live to mate with their kind, and one knows,
after a long time of solitude, after the many steps taken
away from one’s kind, toward the kingdom of strangers,
the hard prayer inside one’s own singing
is to come back, if one can, to one’s own,
a world almost lost, in the exile that deepens,
when one has lived a long time alone.

11
When one has lived a long time alone,
one wants to live again among men and women,
to return to that place where one’s ties with the human
broke, where the disquiet of death and now also
of history glimmers its firelight on faces,
where the gaze of the new baby looks past the gaze
of the great granny, and where lovers speak,
on lips blowsy from kissing, that language
the same in each mouth, and like birds at daybreak
blether the song that is both earth’s and heaven’s,
until the sun has risen, and they stand
in the light of being made one: kingdom come,
when one has lived a long time alone.

“Spelling (of) grammar (describing) grimoire, (is the) granule (of) sugar (in the) bed game (of) bad llamas. Two (up), yea dagny! (says rand), apples to apples, dust to dust, (and voila) I see dead people, (but in life we are all visitors, so the) guest equals me” (said the bar dude). “Oops” (he said, “I shouldn’t have told you all those universal truths, so with the eggs that were) splattered (around, the bar dude said “the) egg yolk is on me.” (so they) baptized (the bar with yolk… but then)”aaahhh! Aaahhh! Aaahhh!” (and a) burning man (burst forth) running (and) dancing (and) singing (and)… chanting (a) calypso beat. (He was the drummer from the) drum set (and he had a great) pair (of) shoes; converse, puma, (all are worthy at the) jungle gym playground (of my) childhood. (I spent my) summertime counting numbers (on the) letters (in the) mail. (My) penpal (from) Minnesota, Duluth, (showed me how to do a) google search (on) lurch (the) butler (from the) alfred hitchcock movies (or maybe I’m thinking of those) pants. (What were they…) denim? (The way) cowboys (had them, kinda) frayed. (A) crappy band (called) the killers (were in) agreement (with) Justin (timberlake about) music. “Wicked english” (said Justin about this) royalty (of music).

(The) king (of) denmark (is in a) tree (made of) wood, Buddha (looked upon him and said) “don ho (is the king of) Waikiki sand (and) sea shells. Pearl jewel (is my favourite because it has a) sparkle (like a) star (at) night. (cos we can) party (like a) communist (with a) red heart beat (of a) generation. (The) energy (is) light (but) heavy. Weight Watchers Spy (with) Binoculars (which) enhance clarity (of) John mayer (and his) Ugly girlfriend, (with her) Face Zits (of) Acne Oily Skin. (Not) Soft (like) Baby, (skin, with it’s) Blanket (of) Comfort. (I’m in the) Zone Boundary Line (of the) Tiger Jungle Fever (which makes me) Quiver (with the) Cold Snow. Winter green (in its) brown wood fire; (a) torch blow out (of) cloud dust, (but the) unclean filthy language (of the) flag wave, undulate (like a) danse (macabre). King (with) wealth (so) hollow, (he is a) village idiot (of all) people, (even with the) over population. (the) crowd (at the) festival (of) faeries (are very) beautiful (spread like lovelies in a) flower garden (the action is a) butterfly flutter…(not) bat crazy (but straight like a) train railroad. (The) Tunnel brick (combined in the) build (with) mortar, (like a) medieval knight (with the) armour (fit for a) battle. (The) meatpacking slaughter (of) cattle herd, (but not) Seen (in the) scene (of) Death, (we) grieve (and) give (if only to) receive (a) take. (we) fake (with a) mask. (the) task (of a) flask (we) gasp (to) pirate. (it is the) music (of ) silent noise (or a) traffic vehicle (creating) Road (kill, it’s a) skunk (which gives me) nausea, a bad feeling, (like a) needle (full of) drugs.” (all this and more said the buddha/bartender dude)

(salvador) dali (said to the) llama, “ahahahah”, (with the) drama (of) Razzle (dazzle) jazz hands. (like) High school study notes, (the) Music (is a) whistle (from his) mouth (through his) teeth, White (with) bleech, smells like (the) teen spirit (of) Jesus freaks (which is) crazy making. (like making) Pies (with the) jam (from) toes (of a) foot. (like a) mouth (with a) kiss (from) lips moist (with the) damp fog. (A) mist (was cast over the) game (that) coby (dude played, the) scandal (caused was as big as) Howard Hughes’ texas Tequila Worm. (the) Earth planet (has a) death star (and a) black star (as described by) Radiohead (in) Fantastrinomical Nonsense (i.e their particular brand of angsty folktronica progrock). (a protagonist from way back,) nancy grace, (knew how to) emasculate (the) Feminine (even more). (it was the) Skirt Monroe (the) blonde Bombshell (wore that made) Anjelina jolie Smile, (a) Happy Puppy (kind of smile). (not an) ex boyfriend smelly (kind of smile). (a) Copycat mime (nancy, put on) face paint (with) colours (similar to) rainbow brite – of the 80’s (fame – not the movie). (nancy was) Gem precious, (because her) Grandma (who was totally) hip, (had a recent) replacement (of her) Football pigskin, (with a) hotdog.

(the) Copycat mimic (was a) character Actor (from that) movie (where the guy has a) vision (in a) dream. (he’s wearing) Pajamas, (you know,) sleeping. (in a) Slow breath, (he says) “it was me actually”. (he wakes with a jolt and says) “Relax, (stay) calm, (it’s not like the) sea (at) night” (he said), “(I am a) Party animal, wild (and) warlike, (like the) Valkyrie mythology. (I am a shield maiden with) Fantastic divine celestial Power.” (he said), “(I have the) domination (of a) dictator (in an) Autocratic theocracy, (which in effect is a) Medieval castle (with) walls (of) Brick (combined with) mortar, (and a) thatched roof.” (the man, played by nancy grace lived in a) Cottage (warm with) human heat. (nancy would) Burp (after having a) barbie, (she like to barbecue) shrimp. (which nancy found) delicious, (not like) shellfish, (from that she got no) Pleasure (as one would find in) sex, (but rather a rash like you find in mangy) dogs (but not) Puppies. (nancy thought) 101 binary robot (would be a great name for her) Cold snow Lapland (she was creating for all those) Naptime santas (with such ostentatious names as) magical Trevor.

Pajama, Slippers (and) Socks (for) Puppets (all packed). (Nancy decided to begin her novel which began with the line). “High on a hill lived a lonely goat herd.” (she felt this was a) Loquacious (beginning. She was originally going to start with an) Equation, (like one finds in) mathematics. (but the thought of this made her) Snore. (she needed some)Cocaine (from Tulsa, better find) Jj cale (in) person, (because that whole) flawed glass invisibility (was way too) transparent (not too mention) clear. (so on this) bright (and) shiny day, (nancy was dreaming about) catching (a) robber, (despite the) alarm, (only the) morning drool (from a) sleep (induced by a) pillow (sized) valium (could waker her). (but still nancy was) numb. (numb like when she listened to) linkin park. (numb like when she listened to) korn. (the chords) twisted (in her mind, taking her back to) iowa. (that) middle (land where resided her) triplets, huey, dewey and louie. (she named them after the father, he worked at the) the boondocks. (ah those) saints. (no, he was no) priest (with) rosary (coloured glasses, that) religious (spectacle only created) atheism. (it was a game of) invisible hide (and) seek. (or as they call it in iowa), “(the) search (and) found (game)”. (it was a) known (game made) famous (by that) singer (who used to sing that) song, (it was on nancy’s) mp3 player.

(she downloaded the) record (from a website called) hitrecord, (hosted by some guy called) joe. (he had thought nancy) gifted (and found her) inspiring, (especially when) painting (on)canvas (with) oil (from a) car. (but she didn’t make much art, cos nancy only used a) tricycle (she stole from a) child (when she was a) teenager. (she had so much) angst, (she was worthy of the) emo label, (but as someone who was a) maker (of) shoes (and generally) sport footwear, (nancy could) walk (the) talk (like a sixties game) showhost. (even despite being a) carrier (for an) alien, Foreign (to earth). (she decided to) film (and) edit, (the gruesome) cut (the doctor made that took the alien from her stomach). “hit record” (she said to the nurse, who said “but how does it”) turn on?. (“this is not) television (this is) reality” (meanwhile the media) bites (advertise a) brownie (made of) weed, grass (from) Coachella, California, (where the) sun (is always in the) sky (and the) rain (never) drops the baby cries. (nancy had a) mary Magdalene (kind of a ) history. (from when she was a copy cat mime in) rome. (“Oh the) eternity (of those) ephemeral instant ramen noodles, (the noodles) swimming (like) sharks”. (To nancy’s dismay, the alien turned out to be a) robot, (that was from when nancy had an) artificial limb (made out of) oak, (and stuck to her with) sap (combined with) sticky goo (that one normally uses for) shoe (repair).

Dexters (lab was the place that nancy realised that the) point (was not to) finger (the) tiramisu (but to observe the) wonderful bubbles (emanating from the) pop corn, (far tastier that that) corn (nancy had, she needed a) pedicure (that involved removing her) toes (and) fingers (and) knees (as the doctor had been humming that song and got carried away). (So nancy was covered in) scabs, (particularly around the alien) cut action (area). (The) gun (was) sssssmokin… (it was not) cancer, (it was) apoptosis, (a necessary) damage (said the doctor). (Is a) tornado (the same as a) twister (thought nancy, does a) hand jive, (make you part of the) grease (cast). (Does) lightning (always come with) thunder, (like a) boom (in) comics (sales, comes with its animated release). (The) graphic (is only) creative (when in) imaginative dreams. Oniric, surreal, unreal, hyperreal, ethereal, angelic (and) cherubic. (these are words in nancy’s personal) dictionary, (some are under the same entry in her) thesaurus. (Words are) dinosaur eggs (in a) nest (meant for) chicks. “Birds, birds” (nancy exclaims,) “bob marley (would have loved this) sunshine. (he may have needed a ) ray ban (like a) wayfarer (of) 33 (years might). (Nancy was) rolling (a cigarette when some) rock (music) began. (Wait, she thought, I need something) BEER! (but the) Bar (had) none. (the jukebox) records spin (and nancy wanders about the )Tornado (question again, with its implications of) Nature, rainforest (and) monkeys. (it was the theoretical) Banana Split Open Wide (in the) Valley (which was the new) low (that created a) down (ward spiral into) Depression. (Similar to that experienced by) Van gogh (when he cut off his) Ear (because of his hearts beating) drum, (the) Beat (strikes with) violence (creating) pulp (out of his heart, which no) band Aid (could cure, even a sexy) Groupie (could not drown out that) Music. (So nancy was a) Fan (of) china, (she liked to eat) rice (off its dainty) white (porcelain, with the son of the devil) Damien. Burn it, (he said in prayer) amen, (said nancy, quoting the) gospel. (Damien get out of your) funeral coffin, (Damien repeated) burn it. (nancy advised) breaks ups (are for) cousellors (in a) courtroom."

um texto que encontrei no fórum do site www.hitrecord.com. um espaço dedicado a troca e ao incentivo da criatividade.