Portuguese folk

para quando uma pessoa se sente mais velha que o mundo, mas a precisar de conectar com o íntimo primordial: « (...) e  quando a fronteira me abraçou, foi esta bagagem que encontrou.».

da abolição de meios-termos

a song for all the soulness people

I guess by the bloodstain of your lips
And the wander of your fingertips
I should prove true to my emptiness
And stay here

Well I’m just a kid of ill repute
But the skin I wear is my only suit..
And you you’re just a substitute
For the one that I hold dear

You know you could be anyone
God forgive my tasteless tongue
I never should have been set free

I carve my eyes, I skin my face
And beg some how to be replaced
That’s how we deal with boys like me

I guess by this world so sick with loss
And your services so free of cost
I should climb down of my rugged cross
And lay with you

But you know by now it’s half past late
And I only came here for escape
You, you’re just my next mistake
Like me to you

You know you could be anyone
God forgive your unborn sons
I hope they don’t end up like me

I drag my mind through streets of shame
Blame myself, forgive the game
That’s how we deal with boys like me

But despite what you’ve been told
I once had a soul
Left somewhere behind
A former friend of mine

And I hate to speak so free
But you mean nothing to me
So if the streetlights they shine bright
I’ll be home tonight

I guess by the dim light in your eyes
And that to you all things come as a surprise
I should set the steel trap of your thighs
And dive right in

But to you I’m just a confused child
Insecure or in denial
Go raise your robes, go have your trial
I’ll let you in

You know I could be anyone
God forgive what I should have done
My thoughts enough to guilty thee

And yes, I guess I made this bed
But i’ll take the sidewalk instead
That’s how we deal with boys with me

But despite what you’ve been told
I once had a soul
Left somewhere behind
A former friend of mine

And I hate to sound so true
But I mean nothing to you
So with the streetlights they shine bright
I’ll be home tonight

Two gallants

e agora o pequeno exercício narcisistico: quando este albúm saiu, esta música rebentou-me o coraçao. passaram mais de cinco anos para eu perceber que soul é afinal coisa que nao me falta. nem um bocadinho sequer.

da preguiça

"I've never met anyone who even comes close to me in laziness," Ms. Lebowitz says. "I would have made a perfect heiress. I enjoy lounging. And reading. The other problem I have is fear of writing. The act of writing puts you in confrontation with yourself, which is why I think writers assiduously avoid writing. The number of alcoholic writers makes a lot of sense because if you're going to be face to face with yourself, maybe it's better that you don't recognize that person." 

Fran Lebowitz

Take me out tonight Because I want to see people and I Want to see life

Não sou a maior fã de the smiths ou, deus-me-livre-e-guarde, do Morrissey, mas há angústias - sobretudo as mais adolescentes - que eles cantam como ninguém. 

(um dos melhores argumentos de não se ser fã de the smiths sao os próprios fãs de the smiths - é só lembrar o pedro mexia - e isto vale para tantas outras bandas, meu deus.)

mutatis mutandi... that's it

constatação (in)feliz?

roubado à limão

do Coward à Marlene

“Tu carta me provocó un montón de emociones y la que predomina es la rabia. La rabia al ver que permites que te humillen tanto, que seas tan infeliz por una situación que no es digna de ti. Detesto pensar en ti disculpándote, rogando perdon y rebajándote.  No me importa si te portaste mal durante un breve momento. Tenías perfectamente derecho, considerando toda la devoción y el amor que has entregado durante los últimos cinco años. Tú único error es no haberte portado aún peor y mucho tiempo antes. El viaje en avión me suena como una pesadilla”.

Me as Jean-Jacques,

My passions, when roused, are intense, and, so long as I am activated by them, nothing equals my impetuosity. I no longer know moderation, respect, fear, propriety; I am cynical, brazen, violent, fearless; no sense of shame deters me, no danger alarms me. Except for the object of my passion, the whole world is nothing to me; but this only lasts for a moment, and the next I am plunged into utter dejection. But in periods when I am calm, you will find me all lassitude and timidity: everything startles, everything perturbs me, the movement made, my indolence takes fright; I am so overcome by fear and shame that I would liketo vanish from mortal sight. If I am obliged to act, I do not know what to do; if I am obliged to speak, I do not know what to say; if someone looks at me, I am disconcerted. When moved by passion, I can sometimes find the words for what I want to say; but in ordinary conversation I can find nothing, nothing at all, indeed the very fact that I am obliged to speak makes the whole thing intolerable to me.

Jean-Jacques Rousseau,Confessions

Oh Red Forman, how deep of you!

I wish that we could talk about it, But there, that's the problem.

Dear 28-year-old-me

se calhar já é tempo de ires sacar mais uns quantos sinais, não?

Henry, today I am sad for the moments I am missing, those moments when you talk to Fred until dawn, when you are eloquent or briliant or violent or exaltant. And I was sad that you missed a wonderfull moment in me.

Henry and June from a Journal of love. The unexpurgated diary (1931-1932) of Anaïs Nin

 Don't be kind. Kindness is not a virtue. Bad for people you're kind to. It's treat them as inferiors, etc.

Susan Sontag, Reborn