Thursday, May 28, 2009
Technicians
"A technician is someone who might service your car. They fix machinery and appliances. There are chief, expert, assistant and bad technicians. Some deal with maintenance, testing, forensic, x-ray, optical, nuclear, food, brakes, shark, toe nail, nose, lice, cat and dog matters. They make the World tolerable. They are licensed, bonded, illegal or shy, loaded or pretty much like all the rest of us. Some say a technician is generally someone active in a technological field (Gee!).
Few descriptions of today’s technicians mention art although historically, artists were viewed as technicians or craftsmen. Society today is complex indeed, requiring an army of experts to run it. The true technicians are very visible. We need the doctors, plumbers, mobile phone gurus, Redmond enablers (”Your potential. Our passion” which currently translates to xBoxes) and hairdressers. Torturers, lawyers, snipers, SWAT teams and concentration camp guards are desperately needed."
interesting blog
...just pick up this from the Net, I usually refer to myself as an IT technician, so this means I'm an enabler : my job is to enable other people potential( just don't want to be desperately needed like concentration camp guards - just hope there won't be anymore concentration camp guards needed, no, not anymore.).
Wednesday, May 27, 2009
The kiss
"When the quadrille began, young Von Rabbek came up to those who were not dancing and invited two officers to have a game at billiards. The officers accepted and went with him out of the drawing-room. Ryabovitch, having nothing to do and wishing to take part in the general movement, slouched after them. From the big drawing-room they went into the little drawing-room, then into a narrow corridor with a glass roof, and thence into a room in which on their entrance three sleepy-looking footmen jumped up quickly from the sofa. At last, after passing through a long succession of rooms, young Von Rabbek and the officers came into a small room where there was a billiard-table. They began to play.
Ryabovitch, who had never played any game but cards, stood near the billiard-table and looked indifferently at the players, while they in unbuttoned coats, with cues in their hands, stepped about, made puns, and kept shouting out unintelligible words.
The players took no notice of him, and only now and then one of them, shoving him with his elbow or accidentally touching him with the end of his cue, would turn round and say "Pardon!" Before the first game was over he was weary of it, and began to feel he was not wanted and in the way. . . . He felt disposed to return to the drawing-room, and he went out.
On his way back he met with a little adventure. When he had gone half-way he noticed he had taken a wrong turning. He distinctly remembered that he ought to meet three sleepy footmen on his way, but he had passed five or six rooms, and those sleepy figures seemed to have vanished into the earth. Noticing his mistake, he walked back a little way and turned to the right; he found himself in a little dark room which he had not seen on his way to the billiard-room. After standing there a little while, he resolutely opened the first door that met his eyes and walked into an absolutely dark room. Straight in front could be seen the crack in the doorway through which there was a gleam of vivid light; from the other side of the door came the muffled sound of a melancholy mazurka. Here, too, as in the drawing-room, the windows were wide open and there was a smell of poplars, lilac and roses. . . .
Ryabovitch stood still in hesitation. . . . At that moment, to his surprise, he heard hurried footsteps and the rustling of a dress, a breathless feminine voice whispered "At last!" And two soft, fragrant, unmistakably feminine arms were clasped about his neck; a warm cheek was pressed to his cheek, and simultaneously there was the sound of a kiss. But at once the bestower of the kiss uttered a faint shriek and skipped back from him, as it seemed to Ryabovitch, with aversion. He, too, almost shrieked and rushed towards the gleam of light at the door. . . .
When he went back into the drawing-room his heart was beating and his hands were trembling so noticeably that he made haste to hide them behind his back. At first he was tormented by shame and dread that the whole drawing-room knew that he had just been kissed and embraced by a woman. He shrank into himself and looked uneasily about him, but as he became convinced that people were dancing and talking as calmly as ever, he gave himself up entirely to the new sensation which he had never experienced before in his life. Something strange was happening to him. . . . His neck, round which soft, fragrant arms had so lately been clasped, seemed to him to be anointed with oil; on his left cheek near his moustache where the unknown had kissed him there was a faint chilly tingling sensation as from peppermint drops, and the more he rubbed the place the more distinct was the chilly sensation; all over, from head to foot, he was full of a strange new feeling which grew stronger and stronger. . . . He wanted to dance, to talk, to run into the garden, to laugh aloud. . . . He quite forgot that he was round-shouldered and uninteresting, that he had lynx-like whiskers and an "undistinguished appearance" (that was how his appearance had been described by some ladies whose conversation he had accidentally overheard). When Von Rabbek's wife happened to pass by him, he gave her such a broad and friendly smile that she stood still and looked at him inquiringly.
"I like your house immensely!" he said, setting his spectacles straight."
Read it all here
Ryabovitch, who had never played any game but cards, stood near the billiard-table and looked indifferently at the players, while they in unbuttoned coats, with cues in their hands, stepped about, made puns, and kept shouting out unintelligible words.
The players took no notice of him, and only now and then one of them, shoving him with his elbow or accidentally touching him with the end of his cue, would turn round and say "Pardon!" Before the first game was over he was weary of it, and began to feel he was not wanted and in the way. . . . He felt disposed to return to the drawing-room, and he went out.
On his way back he met with a little adventure. When he had gone half-way he noticed he had taken a wrong turning. He distinctly remembered that he ought to meet three sleepy footmen on his way, but he had passed five or six rooms, and those sleepy figures seemed to have vanished into the earth. Noticing his mistake, he walked back a little way and turned to the right; he found himself in a little dark room which he had not seen on his way to the billiard-room. After standing there a little while, he resolutely opened the first door that met his eyes and walked into an absolutely dark room. Straight in front could be seen the crack in the doorway through which there was a gleam of vivid light; from the other side of the door came the muffled sound of a melancholy mazurka. Here, too, as in the drawing-room, the windows were wide open and there was a smell of poplars, lilac and roses. . . .
Ryabovitch stood still in hesitation. . . . At that moment, to his surprise, he heard hurried footsteps and the rustling of a dress, a breathless feminine voice whispered "At last!" And two soft, fragrant, unmistakably feminine arms were clasped about his neck; a warm cheek was pressed to his cheek, and simultaneously there was the sound of a kiss. But at once the bestower of the kiss uttered a faint shriek and skipped back from him, as it seemed to Ryabovitch, with aversion. He, too, almost shrieked and rushed towards the gleam of light at the door. . . .
When he went back into the drawing-room his heart was beating and his hands were trembling so noticeably that he made haste to hide them behind his back. At first he was tormented by shame and dread that the whole drawing-room knew that he had just been kissed and embraced by a woman. He shrank into himself and looked uneasily about him, but as he became convinced that people were dancing and talking as calmly as ever, he gave himself up entirely to the new sensation which he had never experienced before in his life. Something strange was happening to him. . . . His neck, round which soft, fragrant arms had so lately been clasped, seemed to him to be anointed with oil; on his left cheek near his moustache where the unknown had kissed him there was a faint chilly tingling sensation as from peppermint drops, and the more he rubbed the place the more distinct was the chilly sensation; all over, from head to foot, he was full of a strange new feeling which grew stronger and stronger. . . . He wanted to dance, to talk, to run into the garden, to laugh aloud. . . . He quite forgot that he was round-shouldered and uninteresting, that he had lynx-like whiskers and an "undistinguished appearance" (that was how his appearance had been described by some ladies whose conversation he had accidentally overheard). When Von Rabbek's wife happened to pass by him, he gave her such a broad and friendly smile that she stood still and looked at him inquiringly.
"I like your house immensely!" he said, setting his spectacles straight."
Read it all here
Bill Traylor
This drawing and the one before of the man walking the dog are by american artist, Bill traylor, his story here
Tuesday, May 26, 2009
Silence only
Where did we go wrong ?
It's the end of another day and I'm feeling lost
traced your steps, followed you in, inside our home
did the usual gestures, started what we had to start
silence around us, even inanimate objects follow the silence script
we're all in a silent movie, we're fish in a bowl
somewhere must be a way out, as there was a way in...
Silence only, no more facing each other, no more regards.
Where did we go wrong ?
Monday, May 25, 2009
Blue dancer
Fell in love with this yesterday.
"I have spent the four most wonderful days of my life with my pretty friends. The little Javanese girls who were here at the exhibition had already pleased me, and now the delightful Cambodian princesses have reawakened my old impressions and increased them a hundred times. They have brought antiquity to life again for me. They have shown me, in reality, the beautiful gestures, the beautiful movements of the human body which the ancients knew how to capture in art. They suddenly immersed me in nature, revealed a completely new aspect and taught me that artists here below have no other task than to observe nature and find sustenance at its source. I am a man who had devoted his entire life to the study of nature and who infinitely admires the works of antiquity; so you can imagine how such a superb spectacle must have affected me, a spectacle that opened my eyes to antiquity again. These monotonous, slow dances to the rhythms of strange music have an extraordinary, a perfect beauty, like the beauty of Greece but with its own special quality."
The rest here
Thursday, May 21, 2009
the country life
Being in the country, living the simple life
feeling each hour of the day, doing what one feels right,
just when one feels like it.
Sorry, too manyof us now, we all have to share
and in order to share, we have to let go of a lot of things...
It is going to be hard, here we say it is very dificult to go
from horse to donkey...
But just picture it right : donkeys are smarter than horses and more useful.
Wednesday, May 20, 2009
Shame
"A suspected gas attack on a girl's school sent 84 girls to hospital in Kapisa Province north of Kabul. There are suspicions that this was another piece of Taliban sabotage. Their ideology forbids the education of girls, even though universal education is an Islamic principle."
This is one of the more shameful things happening in the world today...and there are many things to be ashamed of.
Tuesday, May 19, 2009
poignant
poignant
One entry found.
Main Entry:poi·gnant
Pronunciation:\ˈpȯi-nyənt sometimes ˈpȯi(g)-nənt\
Function:adjective
Etymology:Middle English poynaunt, from Anglo-French poinant, poignant, present participle of poindre to prick, sting, from Latin pungere — more at pungent
Date:14th century
1: pungently pervasive (a poignant perfume)
2 a (1): painfully affecting the feelings : piercing (2): deeply affecting : touching b: designed to make an impression : cutting
3 a: pleasurably stimulating b: being to the point : apt
synonyms see pungent, moving
— poi·gnant·ly adverb
el sueño de la razon produce monstruos
TRIBUNA: TZVETAN TODOROV
Los torturadores voluntarios de Bush
Los documentos elaborados por el anterior Gobierno de EE UU son manuales detallados del suplicio y de su autojustificación legal, moral y política. Sus eufemismos no pueden evitar el espanto que provoca leerlos
TZVETAN TODOROV 14/05/2009
Los documentos relativos a las prácticas de tortur,a empleadas en las cárceles de la CIA que el Gobierno de Obama hizo públicos el pasado 16 de abril arrojan una nueva luz sobre esta cuestión: ¿cómo explicarse la facilidad con la que han aceptado la tortura y la han aplicado a sus prisioneros unas personas que actúan en nombre del Gobierno estadounidense?
Los documentos que se acaban de publicar no revelan los casos de tortura concretos: éstos son de sobra conocidos por todos los que en su día quisieron enterarse. Sin embargo, aportan abundante información sobre la forma en la que se llevaban a cabo las sesiones de tortura y sobre cómo la entendían los agentes que la practicaban.
Lo más sorprendente es descubrir la existencia de una normativa increíblemente meticulosa, formulada en los manuales de la CIA y retomada, a su manera, por los responsables jurídicos del Gobierno de George W. Bush. Hasta ahora era posible imaginar que tales prácticas eran una muestra de lo que se suele denominar "atropellos", infracciones involuntarias de las normas provocadas por la urgencia del momento. Por el contrario, lo que se percibe en los documentos recién conocidos es que se trata de unos procedimientos pautados hasta en sus menores detalles, al milímetro, perfectamente cronometrados.
Así, las formas de tortura son 10, número que posteriormente será elevado a 13. Se dividen en tres categorías, cada una de ellas con diversos grados de intensidad: preparatorias (desnudez, manipulación de la alimentación, privación del sueño), correctivas (los golpes) y coercitivas (duchas de agua fría, encierro en cajas, suplicio de la bañera).
En el caso de las bofetadas, el interrogador, según estos manuales, debe golpear con los dedos separados, en un punto equidistante entre el extremo de la barbilla y la parte inferior del lóbulo de la oreja.
La ducha de agua fría aplicada al prisionero desnudo puede durar 20 minutos si el agua está a cinco grados, 40 minutos si está a 10 grados, y hasta 60 minutos si está a 15 grados.
La privación del sueño no debe ser superior a 180 horas, pero tras un reposo de ocho horas, se puede recomenzar.
La inmersión en la bañera puede durar hasta 12 segundos, durante un periodo que no debe exceder las dos horas diarias, y ello durante 30 días seguidos (un preso particularmente resistente pasó por este suplicio 183 veces en marzo de 2003).
El encierro en una caja de dimensiones muy reducidas no debe ser superior a dos horas, pero si la caja permite que el prisionero esté de pie, se puede prolongar hasta ocho horas seguidas, 16 por día. Si se introduce un insecto en el interior, no se le debe decir al prisionero que la picadura será dolorosa o incluso mortal.
Y así sucesivamente durante páginas y páginas.
Nos enteramos también por estos documentos de cómo se forma a los torturadores. La mayoría de esas torturas está copiada del programa que siguen los soldados americanos que se preparan para enfrentarse a situaciones extremas (lo que permite a los responsables concluir que se trata de pruebas absolutamente soportables). Y lo que todavía es más importante, se elige a los torturadores entre aquellos que han tenido "una larga experiencia escolar" en este tipo de pruebas extremas; dicho en otras palabras, los propios torturadores han sido torturados en una primera fase de su formación. Tras la cual, un cursillo intensivo de cuatro semanas basta para prepararlos para su nuevo trabajo.
Los socios indispensables de los torturadores son los consejeros jurídicos, cuya labor es garantizar la impunidad legal de sus colegas. Esto constituye otra novedad: la tortura ya no se presenta como una infracción de la norma común, lamentable pero excusable, sino que se convierte en la propia norma legal. En este caso, los juristas recurren a otra serie de técnicas. Para librarse de la ley, los interrogatorios deben realizarse fuera del territorio nacional de Estados Unidos, aunque puedan efectuarse en bases norteamericanas en terceros países.
Tal como se define legalmente, la tortura implica la intención de producir un gran sufrimiento. Se sugerirá, por consiguiente, a los torturadores que nieguen la presencia de esa intención. De tal modo que no se abofetea al preso para producirle dolor, sino para sorprenderlo y humillarlo. En cuanto al objetivo de encerrarlo en una caja de reducidas dimensiones no es provocar un desorden sensorial, sino producirle cierta sensación de incomodidad.
El verdugo debe insistir siempre en su "buena fe", en sus "convicciones sinceras" y en lo razonable de sus premisas. Se han de utilizar sistemáticamente eufemismos: "Técnicas reforzadas", en lugar de tortura; "experto en interrogatorios", en lugar de torturador.
También se evitará dejar huellas físicas, y, por esta razón, se preferirá la destrucción mental a los daños físicos; asimismo, se destruirán inmediatamente las posibles grabaciones o tomas visuales de las sesiones.
Otros colectivos colaboran en la práctica de la tortura: el contagio se extiende allende el limitado círculo de los torturadores. Aparte de los juristas que se encargan de dar legitimidad a sus actividades, en los documentos se menciona sistemáticamente a los psicólogos, a los psiquiatras y a los médicos (obligatoriamente presentes en todas las sesiones), además de a las mujeres (los torturadores son hombres, pero la humillación es aún mayor, más grave, cuando hay mujeres presentes) y a los profesores de universidad que proveen justificaciones morales, legales o filosóficas.
¿A quién debemos considerar hoy responsable de esta perversión de la ley y de los principios morales más elementales?
Los ejecutores voluntarios de la tortura lo son menos que los altos cargos y los magistrados que la justificaron y la fomentaron; y éstos, menos responsables, a su vez, que quienes teniendo el poder de tomar decisiones políticas les pidieron que lo hicieran.
Los Gobiernos extranjeros aliados, sobre todo los europeos, también tienen su parte de responsabilidad: pese a haber estado siempre al corriente de la existencia de estas prácticas y de haberse beneficiado de la información obtenida por estos medios, nunca, ni antes ni ahora, se preocuparon por alzar la más mínima protesta, ni siquiera hicieron el más leve signo de desaprobación. Quien calla otorga. ¿Habría que sentarlos en el banquillo?
En una democracia, la condena de los políticos consiste en privarlos del poder no reeligiéndolos. Y con respecto a los otros profesionales, se esperaría que sean sus iguales quienes les impongan el castigo, pues ¿quién querría ser alumno de semejante profesor, paciente de un médico tal o juzgado por un juez así?
Si se quiere comprender por qué estos valientes estadounidenses aceptaron tan fácilmente convertirse en torturadores, de nada vale intentar encontrar argumentos en el odio o en un miedo ancestral a los musulmanes o a los árabes. No. La situación es mucho más grave.
Lo que nos enseñan los documentos estadounidenses que acaban de hacerse públicos es que, siempre y cuando forme parte de un colectivo y esté respaldado por él, cualquier hombre que obedezca a los nobles principios dictados por el "sentido del deber", por la necesaria "defensa de la patria", o que se deje arrastrar por un temor elemental por la vida y el bienestar de los suyos, puede convertirse en torturador.
Monday, May 18, 2009
Coming togheter
ONE AND OTHER, Fourth Plinth Commission, Trafalgar Square, London
Antony Gormley’s proposal ONE AND OTHER is that the Fourth Plinth is occupied for 100 consecutive days, 24 hours a day, by members of the public who have volunteered to stand on it for an hour at a time. 2,400 people will be able to participate. Visit the ONE AND OTHER website to register your interest.
“The idea is very simple. Through putting a person onto the plinth, the body becomes a metaphor, a symbol. In the context of Trafalgar Square with its military, valedictory and male historical statues, this elevation of everyday life to the position formerly occupied by monumental art allows us to reflect on the diversity, vulnerability and particularity of the individual in contemporary society. It's about people coming together to do something extraordinary and unpredictable. It could be tragic but it could also be funny."
Antony Gormley, 2009
Politics vs Art: some propositions:
• Politics has become management.
• Ideological positions are unsustainable when comfort is the highest good.
• We are post-ideology.
• Art is an open space that allows for the generation of alternative value.
A loveless world, would be a very, very sad place
you walk the streets of the city, no particular place to go
you keep your eyes down, you don't care
You don't care, people pass you by, cars honk at you
you just keep going and going,
it's a lonely place to be, the city
when you have no particular place to go.
Confusion will be my epitaph
sound comes to you in waves,
you feel it against your chest, pounding
synchronizing your very heart to the beat,
go brothers go - sail on.
Sunday, May 17, 2009
Simplicity
A dog barks amid the sound of waters,
Peach blossoms dark, bearing dew.
Where trees are thickest, sometimes
see a deer,
And when noon strikes the ravine,
hear no bell.
Bamboo of wilderness split through
blue haze,
A cascade in flight, hung from an
emerald peak.
But no one knows where you've gone--
Disappointed, I linger among these
few pines.
A dog barks amid the sound of waters,
Peach blossoms dark, bearing dew.
Where trees are thickest, sometimes
see a deer,
And when noon strikes the ravine,
hear no bell.
Bamboo of wilderness split through
blue haze,
A cascade in flight, hung from an
emerald peak.
But no one knows where you've gone--
Disappointed, I linger among these
few pines.
Very beautiful article on ancient chinese poetry...
Saturday, May 16, 2009
Uncommon people
For Sidney Bechet
Philip Larkin
That note you hold, narrowing and rising, shakes
Like New Orleans reflected on the water,
And in all ears appropriate falsehood wakes,
Building for some a legendary Quarter
Of balconies, flower-baskets and quadrilles,
Everyone making love and going shares--
Oh, play that thing! Mute glorious Storyvilles
Others may license, grouping around their chairs
Sporting-house girls like circus tigers (priced
Far above rubies) to pretend their fads,
While scholars manqués nod around unnoticed
Wrapped up in personnels like old plaids.
On me your voice falls as they say love should,
Like an enormous yes. My Crescent City
Is where your speech alone is understood,
And greeted as the natural noise of good,
Scattering long-haired grief and scored pity.
Philip Larkin
That note you hold, narrowing and rising, shakes
Like New Orleans reflected on the water,
And in all ears appropriate falsehood wakes,
Building for some a legendary Quarter
Of balconies, flower-baskets and quadrilles,
Everyone making love and going shares--
Oh, play that thing! Mute glorious Storyvilles
Others may license, grouping around their chairs
Sporting-house girls like circus tigers (priced
Far above rubies) to pretend their fads,
While scholars manqués nod around unnoticed
Wrapped up in personnels like old plaids.
On me your voice falls as they say love should,
Like an enormous yes. My Crescent City
Is where your speech alone is understood,
And greeted as the natural noise of good,
Scattering long-haired grief and scored pity.
Começa por uma pequena ilha...(just a small island)
Os habitantes da pequena ilha de Carteret no Pacifíco, são apresentados como os primeiros deslocados devido ao aquecimento global...aqui a noticia.
Inhabitants of the Carteret islands forced to move, due to the global warming.
Read it here.
Friday, May 15, 2009
A força da imagem - para reflectir
Imagem de Fátima traz milhares ao Cristo Rei
por RITA CARVALHO06 Maio 2009 DN
A visita da imagem de Nossa Senhora de Fátima deverá atrair milhares de pessoas a Lisboa no dia 16. A presença da imagem da Capelinha das Aparições, que apenas saiu de Fátima nove vezes e sempre em ocasiões muito especiais, insere-se nas comemorações dos 50 anos do santuário do Cristo Rei, situado em Almada.
A iniciativa da diocese de Setúbal e do Patriarcado de Lisboa conta também com um cortejo de embarcações no Tejo, uma missa na Praça do Comércio presidida por D. José Policarpo, uma procissão de velas em Cacilhas e uma celebração onde estará o enviado do Papa, o cardeal Saraiva Martins.
A organização não arrisca estimar a adesão ao evento, até porque o programa das comemorações apenas agora começou a ser divulgado a nível nacional. Mas lembra que, onde vai, a imagem de Nossa Senhora de Fátima arrasta multidões. "Em 2005, estávamos a contar com 200 mil pessoas em Lisboa, no final do Congresso Internacional da Nova Evangelização, e apareceram 500 mil", disse ao DN, Francisco Noronha de Andrade, da organização do Patriarcado de Lisboa.
As comemorações do 50º aniversário tentarão recriar os gestos realizados em 1959, quando o monumento foi inaugurado na margem Sul do Tejo. Construído com o dinheiro dos fiéis, destinava-se a agradecer a Deus o facto de Portugal não ter participado na Segunda Guerra Mundial. A cerimónia, que decorreu com pompa e circunstância e reuniu 300 mil pessoas, contou com a presença da imagem de Nossa Senhora de Fátima, que saía, assim, pela sexta vez do santuário mariano.
Cinquenta anos depois, a mensagem transmitida pelo Cristo Rei permanece actual, considera o reitor do santuário, Sezinando Alfredo. "Neste contexto de crise social e económica, a mensagem de paz passa por aliviar o sofrimento das pessoas", disse ao DN. Por isso, e também porque o santuário se quer afirmar mais como espaço religioso do que turístico, o programa é vasto e rico e inclui ainda um simpósio de reflexão sobre a solidariedade.
O responsável do Cristo Rei reconhece que, para muitos portugueses, o santuário não representa um local de devoção mas apenas um miradouro sobre a capital. "Mas é como em Fátima. Para muitos é um local sagrado, para outros não passa de um lugar bonito", diz.
A estátua percorrerá as ruas de Lisboa e de Almada, fazendo paragens estratégicas em locais relacionados com a mensagem de Fátima. A primeira será no Hospital Dona Estefânia, onde Jacinta Marto, um dos pastorinhos de Fátima, morreu de tuberculose. Mais à frente, uma paragem rápida na Paróquia dos Anjos assinalará também a memória da criança que aqui foi velada durante dois dias.
A maioria dos peregrinos deverão concentrar-se junto à Praça do Comércio, onde mil crianças vestidas de branco acompanharão a chegada do andor. Aqui decorrerá um terço e uma missa presidida pelo cardeal Patriarca. No final, a imagem entrará numa fragata da Marinha para atravessar o Tejo em direcção à margem Sul, seguindo acompanhada por vários barcos.
Francisco Noronha de Andrade explica que o convite para o cortejo foi enviado para dezenas de associações, clubes náuticos, pescadores e até escolas de vela e remo e acredita que muitos barcos se juntarão ao cortejo.
Em Almada, já à noite, haverá uma procissão de velas em Cacilhas e uma vigília durante a noite, animada pelas paróquias locais. A imagem percorrerá ainda as ruas de Almada. A cerimónia principal decorrerá no domingo no santuário, contando com a presença dos bispos portugueses e alguns bispos estrangeiros dos PALOP.
Cool art
Sage Vaughn (born 1976 in Jackson, Oregon) lives and works in Los Angeles. The Californian by choice began his artistic career with graffiti and street art in the streets of Los Angeles. Over recent years, street art has grown into a globally networked scene in which applied architecture and city criticism, design and art in public spaces merge to create new, experimental forms of expression. This is where Vaughn, who knows the scene well, comes in. His pictures not only reveal the influence of the genre, they translate motifs from design, art or street lives into classic oil paintings.
Daydreaming
Pennies from Heaven, has that I know of been twice remade into Holywood movies...I'm a sucker for this songs.
Accentuate the positive
I loved this series : The singing detective, it was happy-sad, left you in a dream state...Great TV.
the Collins report (so far)
Wilkie Collins
William Wilkie Collins (January 8, 1824 – September 23, 1889) was an English novelist, playwright, and author of short stories. He was hugely popular in his time, and wrote 27 novels, more than 50 short stories, at least 15 plays, and over 100 pieces of non-fiction work. His best-known works are The Woman in White, The Moonstone, Armadale and No Name.
Still popular amongst XIX century english literature students...
Joan Collins
Joan Henrietta Collins OBE (born 23 May 1933)[1] is a Golden Globe Award-winning English actress, author and columnist
Joan Collins'Big Kiss-Off Refuses Peck on Cheek From Pop StarShe Doesn't 'Know : no other than Lily Allen...
Tom Collins
Tom Collins is a great cocktail drink...
Ingredients:
- 1.5 oz (4.5 cl) Gin
- 1 oz (3 cl) lemon juice
- little sugar
- 4 oz (12 cl) carbonated water
Garnishes:
orange or lemon
Standard drinkware:
Highball glass
Self control
Don’t!
The secret of self-control.
Interesting read, about the virtues of self control and what makes us what we are.
What makes us happy ?
Is there a formula—some mix of love, work, and psychological adaptation—for a good life? For 72 years, researchers at Harvard have been examining this question, following 268 men who entered college in the late 1930s through war, career, marriage and divorce, parenthood and grandparenthood, and old age. Here, for the first time, a journalist gains access to the archive of one of the most comprehensive longitudinal studies in history. Its contents, as much literature as science, offer profound insight into the human condition—and into the brilliant, complex mind of the study’s longtime director, George Vaillant.
by Joshua Wolf Shenk
After my post Felicidade/Utopia, enlightened work here
Thursday, May 14, 2009
before the baby boomers
Photograph by Richard Avedon. Model is China Machado. Suit by Ben Zuckerman, hair by Kenneth. New York, November 1958.
"See the great China (pronounced Chee-nah) model fashion's new couture-inspired designs that you can sew yourself," cried the six-column newspaper ad for Macy's 1961 Spring Fabric Fashion Show. "Whether or not," continued the pitch, "you're an aficionado who adores China's rhythmical stroll along fashion's illustrious runways, you must come see her . . ." What made the invitation ir resistible was the accompanying portrait of "the great China," a model of ex quisitely earthy elegance — who makes her own clothes. Born in Shanghai of a Portuguese father and a Siamese mother, China Machado, now 25, worked her way around the world as a Pan Am stewardess and cinemactress, became the top mannequin for Givenchy in Paris at age 21. Also modeling for Simonetta, Fabiani and Balenciaga, she was finally coaxed to the U.S. in 1958 by Oleg Cassini. But for all her experience on haute couture's most exalted runways, last week's star billing at Macy's left China all but speechless in each of her seven languages. As yet unaccustomed to the merchandising methods of the miracle workers of 34th Street, she shuddered, "It sounds a little like a circus."
Misguided angel
The Trinity Sessions cd by The Cowboy Junkies is one of my all time favorites, this is one of its highlights.
Our fragile immortality
Refuge
by Sara Teasdale
From my spirit's gray defeat,
From my pulse's flagging beat,
From my hopes that turned to sand
Sifting through my close-clenched hand,
From my own fault's slavery,
If I can sing, I still am free.
For with my singing I can make
A refuge for my spirit's sake,
A house of shining words, to be
My fragile immortality.
it turns out, that if you are happy I will be too
Connected: The Surprising Power of Our Social Networks and How They Shape Our Lives (Hardcover)
by Nicholas A. Christakis (Author), James H. Fowler (Author)
This guys are trying to prove that feelings and emotions are somehow contagious and that they can reach, well beyond the one person that started the motion...
You can read a paper here.
wearied out
"The faintness of the voice was pitiable and dreadful. It was not the faintness of physical weakness, though confinement and hard fare no doubt had their part in it. Its deplorable peculiarity was, that it was the faintness of solitude and disuse. It was like the last feeble echo of a sound made long and long ago. So entirely had it lost the life and resonance of the human voice, that it affected the senses like a once beautiful colour faded away into a poor weak stain. So sunken and suppressed it was, that it was like a voice underground. So expressive it was, of a hopeless and lost creature, that a famished traveller, wearied out by lonely wandering in a wilderness, would have remembered home and friends in such a tone before lying down to die."
from a Tale of two cities by Charles Dickens
Blue/Azul
O rio hoje, está do exacto azul, do azul daquele dia em que nos encontrámos sobre os telhados da cidade, todo o estuário aberto à nossa frente.
Eu girava na tua órbita, como um satélite tonto, tentando desajeitadamente uma rota de entrada, que me permitisse explodir na tua atmosfera. O vento soprava e tudo era limpo e belo.
Como este exacto azul, que me transporta para esse dia, eu penso no poder de velhas canções que um dia nos enchiam assim e eram o mundo para nós.
Um rio de um exacto azul.
Today the river, is the exact, same blue, that it was on the day me met over the rooftops of the town. All the estuary shining at our feet.
I was drawn to you like a insect to a light, chasing all the darkness behind, trying to grasp the very core of you. Wind was blowing and all were clear and beautiful.
Today this exact blue, takes me back to that day and I think it is exactly the same power old songs have, the power to take us back, to the days they meant the world to us.
A river of an exact, same blue.
Eu girava na tua órbita, como um satélite tonto, tentando desajeitadamente uma rota de entrada, que me permitisse explodir na tua atmosfera. O vento soprava e tudo era limpo e belo.
Como este exacto azul, que me transporta para esse dia, eu penso no poder de velhas canções que um dia nos enchiam assim e eram o mundo para nós.
Um rio de um exacto azul.
Today the river, is the exact, same blue, that it was on the day me met over the rooftops of the town. All the estuary shining at our feet.
I was drawn to you like a insect to a light, chasing all the darkness behind, trying to grasp the very core of you. Wind was blowing and all were clear and beautiful.
Today this exact blue, takes me back to that day and I think it is exactly the same power old songs have, the power to take us back, to the days they meant the world to us.
A river of an exact, same blue.
Wednesday, May 13, 2009
Tuesday, May 12, 2009
the Devil himself
"When the smack begins to flow, and it shoots up the dropper's neck, and I'm rushing on my run, then I feel just like Jesus's son." Behind it all, there's that strange keening, humming note. Listen to the Velvet Underground's Heroin on headphones and you realise it's not feedback after all, not a synthesised warble, but the rich timbre of a violin playing a single note, held for a disturbingly long time. It's the darkest thing in the darkest of songs. If Reed sounds as if he's made a pact with the devil, then the musician who plays that buzzing fiddle - John Cale - must be the devil himself.
The rest of the article here.
How great that John Cale and Lou Reed could join forces - even though it was only for brief periods of time, the Velvet Underground is one seminal rock group, its sound being rediscovered time and time again.
Also have one of Cale's solo albuns, Music for a new society, as one of my all time favorites.(His version of Leonard Cohen's Hallelujah it's also my favorite.)
David and Goliath
"When underdogs choose not to play by Goliath’s rules, they win, Arreguín-Toft concluded, “even when everything we think we know about power says they shouldn’t.”"
A long article on the New Yorker, by Malcom Gladwell
A tale of two cities
"It was the best of times, it was the worst of times; it ws the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness; it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity; it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness; it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair; we had everything before us, we had nothing before us; we were all going directly to Heaven, we were all going the other way."
Don't know a better way to start a book.
Barroco/Baroque
O termo "barroco" advém da palavra portuguesa homónima que significa "pérola imperfeita", ou por extensão jóia falsa. A palavra foi rapidamente introduzida nas línguas francesa e italiana.
According to the Oxford English Dictionary, the word baroque is derived from the Portuguese word "barroco", Spanish "barroco", or French "baroque", all of which refer to a "rough or imperfect pearl", though whether it entered those languages via Latin, Arabic, or some other source is uncertain.[2] In informal usage, the word baroque can simply mean that something is "elaborate", with many details, without reference to the Baroque styles of the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries.
Portuguese chair, S.Francisco church in O'porto, Companhia das Indias porcelain
According to the Oxford English Dictionary, the word baroque is derived from the Portuguese word "barroco", Spanish "barroco", or French "baroque", all of which refer to a "rough or imperfect pearl", though whether it entered those languages via Latin, Arabic, or some other source is uncertain.[2] In informal usage, the word baroque can simply mean that something is "elaborate", with many details, without reference to the Baroque styles of the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries.
Portuguese chair, S.Francisco church in O'porto, Companhia das Indias porcelain
Talk the talk
"And it all can be done without threats or abuse, which is easier on officers and suspects. Detective Columbo, it turns out, was not just made for TV."
Well bad thing Cheney and his lot didn't watch Columbo...
The story here.
Act locally
Don't just talk about it, start doing it...
"VAUBAN, Germany — Residents of this upscale community are suburban pioneers, going where few soccer moms or commuting executives have ever gone before: they have given up their cars."
The rest of the story, here
Monday, May 11, 2009
Vodka Martini
It seems there was a time you could go to a singles bar, sip a vodka martini and meet sophisticated women, while listening to very cool music...
Have you ever see the rain
Já tivemos vários arremedos de Primavera, mas no fim de semana e hoje de manhã, chovia como se tivessemos voltado ao Inverno...it's sad.
Updated pirates
"The Somali pirates attacking shipping in the Gulf of Aden and Indian Ocean are directed to their targets by a "consultant" team in London, according to a European military intelligence document obtained by a Spanish radio station."
This is very interesting, how the first world provides the techonology for third world pirates...
Which means there must be ways to tap on their entrepreunership and put it to good use.
This is very interesting, how the first world provides the techonology for third world pirates...
Which means there must be ways to tap on their entrepreunership and put it to good use.
Sunday, May 10, 2009
same old mistakes
the XXth century was like a boiling pot, bubbling out, bursting with energy, millions got gazed, burned and ripped by hot metal, by fury and greed, the world moved in ways never seen before, now we have metal satelites of our design, we truly are global...look back and think, don't repeat the same old mistakes.
Capital inicial
Canção da fundação do National Deposit Bank
Pois não é?: Fundar um banco
É bom para preto e branco.
Se o dinheiro se não herda,
Arranjai-o; senão – merda!
Boas são para isso acções;
Melhores que facas, canhões.
Só uma coisa é fatal –
Capital inicial.
Mas, quando o dinheiro falta,
Donde vem se não se assalta?
Ai! não nos vamos zangar!:
Donde outros o vão tirar.
De algum lado ele viria
E a alguém se tiraria.
Bertold Brecht, Poemas e Canções, tradução de Paulo Quintela
felicidade/utopia
É um homem feliz? Não acredito no conceito de felicidade. É uma nivelação por baixo daquilo que se pode esperar da vida – e o que se pode esperar da vida é a capacidade de tirar prazer da existência humana, sabendo coabitar ao mesmo tempo com o sofrimento que é inerente à espécie. Felizes podem ser, talvez, os besouros...
A inteligência impede-nos de ser felizes? A complexidade da inteligência impede-nos. A felicidade é um conceito utópico e eu não gosto de utopias. A minha vida é transformar o sofrimento das pessoas que me procuram num sofrimento comum. O sofrimento faz parte da espécie humana.
A felicidade é um conceito que nos “trama” porque andamos todos à procura de uma coisa que não existe? Então não é?! É uma utopia que se vende ao desbarato.
Carlos Amaral Dias em entrevista à Única do Expresso
Clifford Brown
Clifford Brown was born in Wilmington, Delaware on October 30, 1930
Started on trumpet at age 13.
Learned piano and rudimentary arranging in addition to trumpet.
Obtained a music scholarship at the University of Delaware which had, at the time, no music department. Studied mathematics as a freshman
Attended Maryland State College, which had a good jazz band for which Clifford played and wrote.
Began sitting in on various gigs with jazz celebs such as Dizzy Gillespie, Fats Navarro, and Charlie Parker.
Clifford was severely injured in a June, 1950 car accident and was hospitalized for almost a year.
Recording debut with R&B group Chris Powell's Blue Flames in March, 1952.
Recorded with Lou Donaldson in '53.
Invited to play with Max Roach in November of 1953. This was the combo for which Roach and Brownie were best known.
Clifford, pianist Richie Powell and wife, were killed in a car accident during the early morning hours of June 26, 1956. They were on their way to meet Roach for a gig in Chicago when Powell's car, driven by his wife, skidded off the wet Pennsylvania Turnpike.
Lucky finger
Franki is beautiful and talented and deserves a break - will anyone give it to her ?
(she happens to be a friend of mine)
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