Friday, March 24, 2006

Um bigode português em NY




Tantos vídeos, tantas fotos...Ficam aqui alguns dos meus preferidos.

Eis que vos apresento um artista portuguêssssssssss....
Jorge Colombo. Um bigode, no mínimo, peculiar.

http://www.jorgecolombo.com/lscrapbook/index.htm

http://www.jorgecolombo.com/flash/index.htm

http://www.jorgecolombo.com/streetcigars/index.htm

http://www.jorgecolombo.com/landingpatterns/index.htm

Wednesday, March 22, 2006







"My only plan is that I have no plan"

John Malkovich
Sheltering Sky

Ontem vi o History of Violence. Gostei.
Se tu viesses ver-me hoje à tardinha,
A essa hora dos mágicos cansaços,
Quando a noite de manso se avizinha,
E me prendesses toda nos teus braços...

Quando me lembra: esse sabor que tinha
A tua boca... o eco dos teus passos...
O teu riso de fonte... os teus abraços...
Os teus beijos... a tua mão na minha...


Se tu viesses quando, linda e louca,
Traça as linhas dulcíssimas dum beijo
E é de seda vermelha e canta e ri
E é como um cravo ao sol a minha boca...
Quando os olhos se me cerram de desejo...
E os meus braços se estendem para ti...

Florbela Espanca

Monday, March 20, 2006

What a woman must do

Until you walk, run, fight a mile in her shoes

Don't you dare stand in front of me and tell me
What a woman must do
Until you have walked, run, fought a mile in her shoes
Don't you dare stand in front of me and tell me


What a woman must do
What a woman must do


She must
Swing from chandeliers for undeserving spouses and paramours
Who deny her suffrage by day, but crave and praise her womanly wiles by night
Good enough to fuck but, not good enough to vote
She must
Go from the beauty of Africa, to the horrors of massa
Go from titties dangling bare and shameless
To being branded, licentious, temptress, embarrassed
Go from land of yams and heat hot
To land of cash crops and sellers block
Go… from God names, to no name, to his names
Go… from God names, to no name, to his names
Now Black
Now inhuman
Freedom stolen, family stolen, now beholden… but still golden
Field hollerin'… and Ain't I A Woman
Ain't I A Woman

I can see her, me
Washing dishes, clothes, and children
Making love, money, dinner, and beds
Always the first one off a sinking ship
But last in the line to receive respect


She must

Wipe away tears and reclaim strength
After rape, abortion, lover's betrayal, child's birth, child's death,
husband's abuse
Tricking to buy baby shoes
She must
Be called a muse
Which is just a synonym for use
Put upon pedestals
Dainty and protected
And because of that disrespected
Victorianized
Made a paradox of famous anonymity
Left to go insane with too much femininity
Staring at yellow wallpaper

Her heart
Open
Her legs
Open
Warm and welcoming
Waiting… for phone calls that never come
Waiting… for words of appreciation that never come
Waiting… for equal pay that never comes
Waiting

Waiting, waiting, waiting
Waiting, waiting, waiting
Waiting for love


Waiting for acknowledgment not judgment
Waiting

And when seeking or achieving any kind of power
Reduced to labels like…

Concubine. Cunt. Bitch. Whore. Stunt. Witch. Dyke
Concubine. Cunt. Bitch. Whore. Stunt. Witch. Dyke

What a woman must do
What a woman must do

She must
Never settle for less based upon her womaness
Embrace the pronoun and power of SHE
Know if nothing else that her uniqueness is blessed
And a necessary component in the union between universe and people
Equal to man
At times above human understanding
She don't have to lay down for nothing or nobody
Her body in and out a wonder
The wonder of SHE

The wonder of SHE



Ursula Rucker

Sunday, March 19, 2006

Nervous breakdown...