Wednesday, January 28, 2009
The tell tale heart by Poe,Edgar Allen
TRUE! nervous, very, very dreadfully nervous I had been and am; but why WILL you say that I am mad? The disease had sharpened my senses, not destroyed, not dulled them. Above all was the sense of hearing acute. I heard all things in the heaven and in the earth. I heard many things in hell. How then am I mad? Hearken! and observe how healthily, how calmly, I can tell you the whole story.
It is impossible to say how first the idea entered my brain, but, once conceived, it haunted me day and night. Object there was none. Passion there was none. I loved the old man. He had never wronged me. He had never given me insult. For his gold I had no desire. I think it was his eye! Yes, it was this! One of his eyes resembled that of a vulture -- a pale blue eye with a film over it. Whenever it fell upon me my blood ran cold, and so by degrees, very gradually, I made up my mind to take the life of the old man, and thus rid myself of the eye for ever.
Now this is the point. You fancy me mad. Madmen know nothing. But you should have seen me. You should have seen how wisely I proceeded -- with what caution -- with what foresight, with what dissimulation, I went to work! I was never kinder to the old man than during the whole week before I killed him. And every night about midnight I turned the latch of his door and opened it oh, so gently! And then, when I had made an opening sufficient for my head, I put in a dark lantern all closed, closed so that no light shone out, and then I thrust in my head. Oh, you would have laughed to see how cunningly I thrust it in! I moved it slowly, very, very slowly, so that I might not disturb the old man's sleep. It took me an hour to place my whole head within the opening so far that I could see him as he lay upon his bed. Ha! would a madman have been so wise as this? And then when my head was well in the room I undid the lantern cautiously -- oh, so cautiously -- cautiously (for the hinges creaked), I undid it just so much that a single thin ray fell upon the vulture eye. And this I did for seven long nights, every night just at midnight, but I found the eye always closed, and so it was impossible to do the work, for it was not the old man who vexed me but his Evil Eye. And every morning, when the day broke, I went boldly into the chamber and spoke courageously to him, calling him by name in a hearty tone, and inquiring how he had passed the night. So you see he would have been a very profound old man, indeed , to suspect that every night, just at twelve, I looked in upon him while he slept.
Upon the eighth night I was more than usually cautious in opening the door. A watch's minute hand moves more quickly than did mine. Never before that night had I felt the extent of my own powers, of my sagacity. I could scarcely contain my feelings of triumph. To think that there I was opening the door little by little, and he not even to dream of my secret deeds or thoughts. I fairly chuckled at the idea, and perhaps he heard me, for he moved on the bed suddenly as if startled. Now you may think that I drew back -- but no. His room was as black as pitch with the thick darkness (for the shutters were close fastened through fear of robbers), and so I knew that he could not see the opening of the door, and I kept pushing it on steadily, steadily.
I had my head in, and was about to open the lantern, when my thumb slipped upon the tin fastening , and the old man sprang up in the bed, crying out, "Who's there?"
I kept quite still and said nothing. For a whole hour I did not move a muscle, and in the meantime I did not hear him lie down. He was still sitting up in the bed, listening; just as I have done night after night hearkening to the death watches in the wall.
Presently, I heard a slight groan, and I knew it was the groan of mortal terror. It was not a groan of pain or of grief -- oh, no! It was the low stifled sound that arises from the bottom of the soul when overcharged with awe. I knew the sound well. Many a night, just at midnight, when all the world slept, it has welled up from my own bosom, deepening, with its dreadful echo, the terrors that distracted me. I say I knew it well. I knew what the old man felt, and pitied him although I chuckled at heart. I knew that he had been lying awake ever since the first slight noise when he had turned in the bed. His fears had been ever since growing upon him. He had been trying to fancy them causeless, but could not. He had been saying to himself, "It is nothing but the wind in the chimney, it is only a mouse crossing the floor," or, "It is merely a cricket which has made a single chirp." Yes he has been trying to comfort himself with these suppositions ; but he had found all in vain. ALL IN VAIN, because Death in approaching him had stalked with his black shadow before him and enveloped the victim. And it was the mournful influence of the unperceived shadow that caused him to feel, although he neither saw nor heard, to feel the presence of my head within the room.
When I had waited a long time very patiently without hearing him lie down, I resolved to open a little -- a very, very little crevice in the lantern. So I opened it -- you cannot imagine how stealthily, stealthily -- until at length a single dim ray like the thread of the spider shot out from the crevice and fell upon the vulture eye.
It was open, wide, wide open, and I grew furious as I gazed upon it. I saw it with perfect distinctness -- all a dull blue with a hideous veil over it that chilled the very marrow in my bones, but I could see nothing else of the old man's face or person, for I had directed the ray as if by instinct precisely upon the damned spot.
And now have I not told you that what you mistake for madness is but over-acuteness of the senses? now, I say, there came to my ears a low, dull, quick sound, such as a watch makes when enveloped in cotton. I knew that sound well too. It was the beating of the old man's heart. It increased my fury as the beating of a drum stimulates the soldier into courage.
But even yet I refrained and kept still. I scarcely breathed. I held the lantern motionless. I tried how steadily I could maintain the ray upon the eye. Meantime the hellish tattoo of the heart increased. It grew quicker and quicker, and louder and louder, every instant. The old man's terror must have been extreme! It grew louder, I say, louder every moment! -- do you mark me well? I have told you that I am nervous: so I am. And now at the dead hour of the night, amid the dreadful silence of that old house, so strange a noise as this excited me to uncontrollable terror. Yet, for some minutes longer I refrained and stood still. But the beating grew louder, louder! I thought the heart must burst. And now a new anxiety seized me -- the sound would be heard by a neighbour! The old man's hour had come! With a loud yell, I threw open the lantern and leaped into the room. He shrieked once -- once only. In an instant I dragged him to the floor, and pulled the heavy bed over him. I then smiled gaily, to find the deed so far done. But for many minutes the heart beat on with a muffled sound. This, however, did not vex me; it would not be heard through the wall. At length it ceased. The old man was dead. I removed the bed and examined the corpse. Yes, he was stone, stone dead. I placed my hand upon the heart and held it there many minutes. There was no pulsation. He was stone dead. His eye would trouble me no more.
If still you think me mad, you will think so no longer when I describe the wise precautions I took for the concealment of the body. The night waned, and I worked hastily, but in silence.
I took up three planks from the flooring of the chamber, and deposited all between the scantlings. I then replaced the boards so cleverly so cunningly, that no human eye -- not even his -- could have detected anything wrong. There was nothing to wash out -- no stain of any kind -- no blood-spot whatever. I had been too wary for that.
When I had made an end of these labours, it was four o'clock -- still dark as midnight. As the bell sounded the hour, there came a knocking at the street door. I went down to open it with a light heart, -- for what had I now to fear? There entered three men, who introduced themselves, with perfect suavity, as officers of the police. A shriek had been heard by a neighbour during the night; suspicion of foul play had been aroused; information had been lodged at the police office, and they (the officers) had been deputed to search the premises.
I smiled, -- for what had I to fear? I bade the gentlemen welcome. The shriek, I said, was my own in a dream. The old man, I mentioned, was absent in the country. I took my visitors all over the house. I bade them search -- search well. I led them, at length, to his chamber. I showed them his treasures, secure, undisturbed. In the enthusiasm of my confidence, I brought chairs into the room, and desired them here to rest from their fatigues, while I myself, in the wild audacity of my perfect triumph, placed my own seat upon the very spot beneath which reposed the corpse of the victim.
The officers were satisfied. My MANNER had convinced them. I was singularly at ease. They sat and while I answered cheerily, they chatted of familiar things. But, ere long, I felt myself getting pale and wished them gone. My head ached, and I fancied a ringing in my ears; but still they sat, and still chatted. The ringing became more distinct : I talked more freely to get rid of the feeling: but it continued and gained definitiveness -- until, at length, I found that the noise was NOT within my ears.
No doubt I now grew VERY pale; but I talked more fluently, and with a heightened voice. Yet the sound increased -- and what could I do? It was A LOW, DULL, QUICK SOUND -- MUCH SUCH A SOUND AS A WATCH MAKES WHEN ENVELOPED IN COTTON. I gasped for breath, and yet the officers heard it not. I talked more quickly, more vehemently but the noise steadily increased. I arose and argued about trifles, in a high key and with violent gesticulations; but the noise steadily increased. Why WOULD they not be gone? I paced the floor to and fro with heavy strides, as if excited to fury by the observations of the men, but the noise steadily increased. O God! what COULD I do? I foamed -- I raved -- I swore! I swung the chair upon which I had been sitting, and grated it upon the boards, but the noise arose over all and continually increased. It grew louder -- louder -- louder! And still the men chatted pleasantly , and smiled. Was it possible they heard not? Almighty God! -- no, no? They heard! -- they suspected! -- they KNEW! -- they were making a mockery of my horror! -- this I thought, and this I think. But anything was better than this agony! Anything was more tolerable than this derision! I could bear those hypocritical smiles no longer! I felt that I must scream or die! -- and now -- again -- hark! louder! louder! louder! LOUDER! --
"Villains!" I shrieked, "dissemble no more! I admit the deed! -- tear up the planks! -- here, here! -- it is the beating of his hideous heart!"
It is impossible to say how first the idea entered my brain, but, once conceived, it haunted me day and night. Object there was none. Passion there was none. I loved the old man. He had never wronged me. He had never given me insult. For his gold I had no desire. I think it was his eye! Yes, it was this! One of his eyes resembled that of a vulture -- a pale blue eye with a film over it. Whenever it fell upon me my blood ran cold, and so by degrees, very gradually, I made up my mind to take the life of the old man, and thus rid myself of the eye for ever.
Now this is the point. You fancy me mad. Madmen know nothing. But you should have seen me. You should have seen how wisely I proceeded -- with what caution -- with what foresight, with what dissimulation, I went to work! I was never kinder to the old man than during the whole week before I killed him. And every night about midnight I turned the latch of his door and opened it oh, so gently! And then, when I had made an opening sufficient for my head, I put in a dark lantern all closed, closed so that no light shone out, and then I thrust in my head. Oh, you would have laughed to see how cunningly I thrust it in! I moved it slowly, very, very slowly, so that I might not disturb the old man's sleep. It took me an hour to place my whole head within the opening so far that I could see him as he lay upon his bed. Ha! would a madman have been so wise as this? And then when my head was well in the room I undid the lantern cautiously -- oh, so cautiously -- cautiously (for the hinges creaked), I undid it just so much that a single thin ray fell upon the vulture eye. And this I did for seven long nights, every night just at midnight, but I found the eye always closed, and so it was impossible to do the work, for it was not the old man who vexed me but his Evil Eye. And every morning, when the day broke, I went boldly into the chamber and spoke courageously to him, calling him by name in a hearty tone, and inquiring how he had passed the night. So you see he would have been a very profound old man, indeed , to suspect that every night, just at twelve, I looked in upon him while he slept.
Upon the eighth night I was more than usually cautious in opening the door. A watch's minute hand moves more quickly than did mine. Never before that night had I felt the extent of my own powers, of my sagacity. I could scarcely contain my feelings of triumph. To think that there I was opening the door little by little, and he not even to dream of my secret deeds or thoughts. I fairly chuckled at the idea, and perhaps he heard me, for he moved on the bed suddenly as if startled. Now you may think that I drew back -- but no. His room was as black as pitch with the thick darkness (for the shutters were close fastened through fear of robbers), and so I knew that he could not see the opening of the door, and I kept pushing it on steadily, steadily.
I had my head in, and was about to open the lantern, when my thumb slipped upon the tin fastening , and the old man sprang up in the bed, crying out, "Who's there?"
I kept quite still and said nothing. For a whole hour I did not move a muscle, and in the meantime I did not hear him lie down. He was still sitting up in the bed, listening; just as I have done night after night hearkening to the death watches in the wall.
Presently, I heard a slight groan, and I knew it was the groan of mortal terror. It was not a groan of pain or of grief -- oh, no! It was the low stifled sound that arises from the bottom of the soul when overcharged with awe. I knew the sound well. Many a night, just at midnight, when all the world slept, it has welled up from my own bosom, deepening, with its dreadful echo, the terrors that distracted me. I say I knew it well. I knew what the old man felt, and pitied him although I chuckled at heart. I knew that he had been lying awake ever since the first slight noise when he had turned in the bed. His fears had been ever since growing upon him. He had been trying to fancy them causeless, but could not. He had been saying to himself, "It is nothing but the wind in the chimney, it is only a mouse crossing the floor," or, "It is merely a cricket which has made a single chirp." Yes he has been trying to comfort himself with these suppositions ; but he had found all in vain. ALL IN VAIN, because Death in approaching him had stalked with his black shadow before him and enveloped the victim. And it was the mournful influence of the unperceived shadow that caused him to feel, although he neither saw nor heard, to feel the presence of my head within the room.
When I had waited a long time very patiently without hearing him lie down, I resolved to open a little -- a very, very little crevice in the lantern. So I opened it -- you cannot imagine how stealthily, stealthily -- until at length a single dim ray like the thread of the spider shot out from the crevice and fell upon the vulture eye.
It was open, wide, wide open, and I grew furious as I gazed upon it. I saw it with perfect distinctness -- all a dull blue with a hideous veil over it that chilled the very marrow in my bones, but I could see nothing else of the old man's face or person, for I had directed the ray as if by instinct precisely upon the damned spot.
And now have I not told you that what you mistake for madness is but over-acuteness of the senses? now, I say, there came to my ears a low, dull, quick sound, such as a watch makes when enveloped in cotton. I knew that sound well too. It was the beating of the old man's heart. It increased my fury as the beating of a drum stimulates the soldier into courage.
But even yet I refrained and kept still. I scarcely breathed. I held the lantern motionless. I tried how steadily I could maintain the ray upon the eye. Meantime the hellish tattoo of the heart increased. It grew quicker and quicker, and louder and louder, every instant. The old man's terror must have been extreme! It grew louder, I say, louder every moment! -- do you mark me well? I have told you that I am nervous: so I am. And now at the dead hour of the night, amid the dreadful silence of that old house, so strange a noise as this excited me to uncontrollable terror. Yet, for some minutes longer I refrained and stood still. But the beating grew louder, louder! I thought the heart must burst. And now a new anxiety seized me -- the sound would be heard by a neighbour! The old man's hour had come! With a loud yell, I threw open the lantern and leaped into the room. He shrieked once -- once only. In an instant I dragged him to the floor, and pulled the heavy bed over him. I then smiled gaily, to find the deed so far done. But for many minutes the heart beat on with a muffled sound. This, however, did not vex me; it would not be heard through the wall. At length it ceased. The old man was dead. I removed the bed and examined the corpse. Yes, he was stone, stone dead. I placed my hand upon the heart and held it there many minutes. There was no pulsation. He was stone dead. His eye would trouble me no more.
If still you think me mad, you will think so no longer when I describe the wise precautions I took for the concealment of the body. The night waned, and I worked hastily, but in silence.
I took up three planks from the flooring of the chamber, and deposited all between the scantlings. I then replaced the boards so cleverly so cunningly, that no human eye -- not even his -- could have detected anything wrong. There was nothing to wash out -- no stain of any kind -- no blood-spot whatever. I had been too wary for that.
When I had made an end of these labours, it was four o'clock -- still dark as midnight. As the bell sounded the hour, there came a knocking at the street door. I went down to open it with a light heart, -- for what had I now to fear? There entered three men, who introduced themselves, with perfect suavity, as officers of the police. A shriek had been heard by a neighbour during the night; suspicion of foul play had been aroused; information had been lodged at the police office, and they (the officers) had been deputed to search the premises.
I smiled, -- for what had I to fear? I bade the gentlemen welcome. The shriek, I said, was my own in a dream. The old man, I mentioned, was absent in the country. I took my visitors all over the house. I bade them search -- search well. I led them, at length, to his chamber. I showed them his treasures, secure, undisturbed. In the enthusiasm of my confidence, I brought chairs into the room, and desired them here to rest from their fatigues, while I myself, in the wild audacity of my perfect triumph, placed my own seat upon the very spot beneath which reposed the corpse of the victim.
The officers were satisfied. My MANNER had convinced them. I was singularly at ease. They sat and while I answered cheerily, they chatted of familiar things. But, ere long, I felt myself getting pale and wished them gone. My head ached, and I fancied a ringing in my ears; but still they sat, and still chatted. The ringing became more distinct : I talked more freely to get rid of the feeling: but it continued and gained definitiveness -- until, at length, I found that the noise was NOT within my ears.
No doubt I now grew VERY pale; but I talked more fluently, and with a heightened voice. Yet the sound increased -- and what could I do? It was A LOW, DULL, QUICK SOUND -- MUCH SUCH A SOUND AS A WATCH MAKES WHEN ENVELOPED IN COTTON. I gasped for breath, and yet the officers heard it not. I talked more quickly, more vehemently but the noise steadily increased. I arose and argued about trifles, in a high key and with violent gesticulations; but the noise steadily increased. Why WOULD they not be gone? I paced the floor to and fro with heavy strides, as if excited to fury by the observations of the men, but the noise steadily increased. O God! what COULD I do? I foamed -- I raved -- I swore! I swung the chair upon which I had been sitting, and grated it upon the boards, but the noise arose over all and continually increased. It grew louder -- louder -- louder! And still the men chatted pleasantly , and smiled. Was it possible they heard not? Almighty God! -- no, no? They heard! -- they suspected! -- they KNEW! -- they were making a mockery of my horror! -- this I thought, and this I think. But anything was better than this agony! Anything was more tolerable than this derision! I could bear those hypocritical smiles no longer! I felt that I must scream or die! -- and now -- again -- hark! louder! louder! louder! LOUDER! --
"Villains!" I shrieked, "dissemble no more! I admit the deed! -- tear up the planks! -- here, here! -- it is the beating of his hideous heart!"
by William Borroughs,NAKED LUNCH
Did I Ever tell you about the man who taught his asshole to talk?
Did I ever tell you about the man who taught his ass to talk? His whole
abdomen would move up and down you dig farting out the words. It was
unlike anything I had ever heard.
"This ass talk had sort of a gut frequency. It hit you right down there
like you gotta go. You know when the old colon gives you the elbow and it
feels sorta cold inside, and you know all you have to do is turn loose?
Well this talking hit you right down there, a bubbly, thick stagnant
sound, a sound you could smell.
"This man worked for a carnival you dig, and to start with it was like a
novelty ventriliquist act. Real funny, too, at first. He had a number he
called "The Better 'Ole' that was a scream, I tell you. I forget most of
it but it was clever. Like, "Oh I say, are you still down there, old
thing?'
"'Nah! I had to go relieve myself.'
"After a while the ass start talking on its own. He would go in without
anything prepared and his ass would ad-lib and toss the gags back at him
every time.
"Then it developed sort of teeth-like little raspy in- curving hooks and
start eating. He thought this was cute at first and built and act around
it, but the asshole would eat its way through his pants and start talking
on the street, shouting out it wanted equal rights. It would get drunk,
too, and have crying jags nobody loved it and it wanted to be kissed same
as any other mouth. Finally it talked all the time day and night, you
could hear him for blocks screaming at it to shut up, and beating it with
his fist, and sticking candles up it, but nothing did any good and the
asshole said to him: 'It's you who will shut up in the end. Not me.
Because we don't need you around here any more. I can talk and eat AND
shit.'
"After that he began waking up in the morning with a transparent jelly
like a tadpole's tail all over his mouth. This jelly was what the
scientists call un-D.T., Undifferentiated Tissue, which can grow into any
kind of flesh on the human body. He would tear it off his mouth and the
pieces would stick to his hands like burning gasoline jelly and grow
there, grow anywhere on him a glob of it fell. So finally his mouth
sealed over, and the whole head would have have amputated spontaneous-
except for the EYES you dig. That's one thing the asshole COULDN'T do was
see. It needed the eyes. But nerve connections were blocked and
infiltrated and atrophied so the brain couldn't give orders any more. It
was trapped in the skull, sealed off. For a while you could see the
silent, helpless suffering of the brain behind the eyes, then finally the
brain must have died, because the eyes WENT OUT, and there was no more
feeling in them than a crab's eyes on the end of a stalk.
Reprinted without permission from:
The Naked Lunch
William S Burroughs
Did I ever tell you about the man who taught his ass to talk? His whole
abdomen would move up and down you dig farting out the words. It was
unlike anything I had ever heard.
"This ass talk had sort of a gut frequency. It hit you right down there
like you gotta go. You know when the old colon gives you the elbow and it
feels sorta cold inside, and you know all you have to do is turn loose?
Well this talking hit you right down there, a bubbly, thick stagnant
sound, a sound you could smell.
"This man worked for a carnival you dig, and to start with it was like a
novelty ventriliquist act. Real funny, too, at first. He had a number he
called "The Better 'Ole' that was a scream, I tell you. I forget most of
it but it was clever. Like, "Oh I say, are you still down there, old
thing?'
"'Nah! I had to go relieve myself.'
"After a while the ass start talking on its own. He would go in without
anything prepared and his ass would ad-lib and toss the gags back at him
every time.
"Then it developed sort of teeth-like little raspy in- curving hooks and
start eating. He thought this was cute at first and built and act around
it, but the asshole would eat its way through his pants and start talking
on the street, shouting out it wanted equal rights. It would get drunk,
too, and have crying jags nobody loved it and it wanted to be kissed same
as any other mouth. Finally it talked all the time day and night, you
could hear him for blocks screaming at it to shut up, and beating it with
his fist, and sticking candles up it, but nothing did any good and the
asshole said to him: 'It's you who will shut up in the end. Not me.
Because we don't need you around here any more. I can talk and eat AND
shit.'
"After that he began waking up in the morning with a transparent jelly
like a tadpole's tail all over his mouth. This jelly was what the
scientists call un-D.T., Undifferentiated Tissue, which can grow into any
kind of flesh on the human body. He would tear it off his mouth and the
pieces would stick to his hands like burning gasoline jelly and grow
there, grow anywhere on him a glob of it fell. So finally his mouth
sealed over, and the whole head would have have amputated spontaneous-
except for the EYES you dig. That's one thing the asshole COULDN'T do was
see. It needed the eyes. But nerve connections were blocked and
infiltrated and atrophied so the brain couldn't give orders any more. It
was trapped in the skull, sealed off. For a while you could see the
silent, helpless suffering of the brain behind the eyes, then finally the
brain must have died, because the eyes WENT OUT, and there was no more
feeling in them than a crab's eyes on the end of a stalk.
Reprinted without permission from:
The Naked Lunch
William S Burroughs
Saturday, January 24, 2009
Agrado ,o transgénero é o anómalo, é a desterritariolização do homem, da mulher, da heterosexualidade e da homosexualidade. Não é uma coisa nem outra e Agrado mais do que qualquer outro exímio está em devir porque ela com consciência da sua transformação em contínuo valoriza precisamente o processo e é este devir que é real e não o seu final, a sua conclusão, ela é o objecto de desejo de homens e mulheres. E é isso que lhe interessa. Nasceu para agradar aos outros. E valoriza tanto o sexo com o qual nasceu como os dispendiosos implantes. E nela se misturam sem possível delimitação características de género masculinas e femininas se o quisermos definir de forma simplista e tradicional porque esta suposta mistura na verdade resulta numa identidade com essas definições difusas tanto que já não se podem aplicar tais definições. Agrado é dotada de uma sensibilidade sua, é a sua experiência, é a sua forma que não encontra precedentes . Não está em devir-mulher, o primeiro de todos os devires ,porque aquilo que ela é, é precisamente a destruição dessa dicotomia, a destruição da formação de um devir por oposição a outro. E também não está em devir - homem. Agrado está para além da fronteira dos conceitos vulgarmente utilizados para a descrever fisicamente. Quanto muito podia dizer-se de Agrado devir - objecto de desejo conquanto a única coisa verdadeira em si seja querer agradar os outros e portanto ser autêntica em conformidade com tal.
Há no reino animal certas espécies de que se conhece terem a capacidade de alterar a genitália segundo as necessidades de acasalamento que têm como fim a reprodução. Mas esse devir animal aqui aplicado não seria correcto pois na verdade aqui o movimento progride e estagna em direcção ao princípio do prazer.O devir é sempre intenso e é através do seu aparecimento, da sua visibilidade que percebemos o quão invisível ela é.
i.
Há no reino animal certas espécies de que se conhece terem a capacidade de alterar a genitália segundo as necessidades de acasalamento que têm como fim a reprodução. Mas esse devir animal aqui aplicado não seria correcto pois na verdade aqui o movimento progride e estagna em direcção ao princípio do prazer.O devir é sempre intenso e é através do seu aparecimento, da sua visibilidade que percebemos o quão invisível ela é.
i.
Stable star is born.
"At the beginning of the formation of a star, the gravitational attraction will pull the gas together. At some point, the density and temperature at the center of the cloud of gas will be high enough to ignite the nuclear fusion. The energy produced by the fusion will create two kinds of outward pressure to act against the gravitational attraction. Because of these two balancing forces (the outward pressure and the inward gravitational attraction), the star is stable ."
Monday, January 19, 2009
Sunday, January 18, 2009
Thursday, January 8, 2009
Pink & Black & Blue
"I tried to do handstands for you
I tried to do headstands for you
Everytime i fell on you
yeah everytime i fell
I tried to do handstands for you
But everytime i fell for you
I'm permanently black and blue,
permanently blue for You
- I grabbed some frozen strawberries
so i could ice your bruisy knees
But frozen things they all unfreeze
and now i taste like
All those frozen strawberries i used to chill your bruisy knees,
Hot july ain't good to me
I'm pink and black and blue
Got bruises on my knees for you
And grass stains on my knees for you
Got holes in my new jeans for you
Got pink and black and blue for
you uh uh uh oh you uh uh!"
Sunday, January 4, 2009
Xerazade Xerazade!
"Schahariar, grande sultão das Índias, depois de tomar conhecimento da infidelidade da sultana, sua mulher, ordenou que a estrangulassem. A partir desse momento, convencido de que não existia nenhuma mulher honesta e para prevenir infidelidades futuras, institui um reinado de terror, casando com uma jovem em cada noite e mandando estrangulá-la na manhã seguinte. Assim aconteceu até ao dia em que a filha mais velha do grão-vizir, Xerazade, decide pôr fim a tal desumanidade.Xerazade era uma mulher sábia, instruída, que lera muito, tinha uma memória prodigiosa,uma perspicácia admirável, uma coragem acima do seu sexo e, como se tudo isto não bastasse, uma excelente beleza e uma sólida virtude. Xerazade pede encarecidamente a seu pai que a entregue ao sultão. Apesar dos protestos e das tentativas de dissuasão por parte do grão-vizir, Xerazade obstinada, persistente e firme decide tornar-se esposa do sultão. Preparou-se com esmero e arranjou uma adjuvante, Dinarzade,sua irmã, que a pudesse ajudar a levar a cabo o seu plano. As estratégias estavam minuciosamente preparadas para que o projecto não falhasse. Durante Mil e uma Noites,Xerazade vai mantendo acesa a curiosidade do rei, contando-lhe histórias que nunca terminam ao alvorecer e que geram sempre outras histórias. "O sultão livra-a da sentença de morte porque ela fez perdurar as suas histórias recorrendo ao suspense durante mil e uma noites ,ela começava a contar as suas histórias e antes que a madrugada acabasse interrompia-as e só as retomava no dia seguinteDeixando assim o sultão curioso por saber como é que a história ia acabar.
in http://ler.letras.up.pt/uploads/ficheiros/4593.pdf.
in http://ler.letras.up.pt/uploads/ficheiros/4593.pdf.
Friday, January 2, 2009
Vamos?
Iremos juntos sozinhos pela areia
Embalados no dia
Colhendo as algas roxas e os corais
Que na praia deixou a maré cheia.
As palavras que disseres e eu disser
Serão somente as palavras que há nas coisas
Virás comigo desumanamente
Como vêm as ondas com o vento.
O belo dia liso como o linho
Interminável será sem um defeito
Cheio de imagens e conhecimento.
(Sophia de Mello Breyner Andersen)
Embalados no dia
Colhendo as algas roxas e os corais
Que na praia deixou a maré cheia.
As palavras que disseres e eu disser
Serão somente as palavras que há nas coisas
Virás comigo desumanamente
Como vêm as ondas com o vento.
O belo dia liso como o linho
Interminável será sem um defeito
Cheio de imagens e conhecimento.
(Sophia de Mello Breyner Andersen)
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