sábado, junho 17, 2006

sábado, junho 10, 2006

sábado, junho 03, 2006

staring at YOU... 
i've never felt so helpless...
i'm waiting for my dream... 
---you've left me feeling restless---
i tried to dance you on my head
i tried to GET you with my arms

s o m e t i m e s DESIRE l e a v e s n o CHOICE
                                                            restless by mount sims

quinta-feira, junho 01, 2006


segunda-feira, maio 01, 2006

monologue in front of bathroom mirror

"yeah, fuck you, too.
Fuck me? Fuck you.
Fuck you and this whole city and everyone in it.
No, no, no, no, no.
Fuck the panhandlers grubbing for money, smiling at me behind my back.
Fuck the squeegee men dirtying up the clean windshield of my car.

Get a fucking job.
Fuck the Sikhs and the Pakistanis bombing down the avenues in decrepit cabs, curry steaming out their pores, stinking up my day. Terrorists in fucking training. Slow the fuck down! ...getting one of those operations that elongate your penis.
Fuck the Chelsea Boys with their waxed chests and pumped-up biceps, going down on each other in my parks and on my piers, jiggling their dicks on my Channel!
Fuck the Korean grocers with their pyramids of overpriced fruit and their tulips and roses wrapped in plastic. Ten years in the country, still no speak English.
Fuck the Russians in Brighton Beach. Mobster thugs sitting in cafes, sipping tea in little glasses, sugar cubes between their teeth, wheelin' and dealin' and schemin'. Go back where you fucking came from.
Fuck the black-hatted Hasidim strolling up and down 10th Street in their dirty gabardine with their dandruff, selling South African apartheid diamonds.

Fuck the Wall Street brokers. Self-styled masters of the universe. Michael Douglas-Gordon Gekko wannabe motherfuckers figuring out new ways to rob hardworking people blind.Send those Enron assholes to jail for fucking life.You think Bush and Cheney didn't know about that shit? Give me a fucking break.
Fuck the Puerto Ricans. Twenty to a car, swelling up the welfare rolls. Worst fucking parade in the city. And don't even get me started on the Dominicans, 'cause they make the Puerto Ricans look good.
Fuck the Bensonhurst ltalians with their pomaded hair, their nylon warm-up suits, their St. Anthony medallions, swinging their Jason Giambi Louisville Slugger baseball bats trying to audition for "The Sopranos."

Fuck the Upper East Side wives with their Hermes scarves and their Balducci artichoke. Overfed faces getting pulled and lifted and stretched all taut and shiny. You're not fooling anybody, sweetheart.
Fuck the Uptown brothers. They never pass the ball, they don't want to play defense, they take five steps on every layup to the hoop, and then they want to turn around and blame everything on the white man. Slavery ended years ago. Move the fuck on.
Fuck the corrupt cops with their anus-violating plungers and their shots, standing behind a blue wall of silence. You betray our trust!
Fuck the priests who put their hands down some innocent child's pants.
Fuck the church that protects them, delivering us into evil.
And while you're at it, fuck J.C. He got off easy...a day on the cross, a weekend in hell, and all the hallelujahs of the legioned angels for eternity. Try seven years in fucking Otisville, J.
Fuck Osama bin Laden, Al Qaeda, and backward-ass cave-dwelling fundamentalist assholes everywhere. On the names of innocent thousands murdered, I pray you spend the rest of eternity with your whores roasting in a jet-fuel fire in hell. You towel-headed camel jockeys can kiss my royal lrish ass.
Fuck Jacob Elinsky. Whining malcontent.
Fuck Francis Xavier Slaughtery, my best friend, judging me while he stares at my girlfriend's ass.
Fuck Naturelle Riviera. I gave her my trust, and she stabbed me in the back. Sold me up the river. Fucking bitch.
Fuck my father with his endless grief, standing behind that bar, sipping on club soda, selling whiskey to firemen and cheering the Bronx Bombers.
Fuck this whole city and everyone in it, from the row houses of Astoria to the penthouses on Park Avenue, from the projects in the Bronx to the lofts in Soho, from the tenements in Alphabet City to the brownstones in Park Slope to the split-levels in Staten lsland, let an earthquake crumble it, let the fires rage, let it burn to fucking ash, and then let the waters rise and submerge this whole rat-infested place.
No. No. Fuck you, Montgomery Brogan. You had it all, and you threw it away, you dumb fuck!"

from "25th hour", a spike lee joint
(monologue by edward norton)

terça-feira, abril 04, 2006

"(...)e no entanto...

... o teu perfume e as tuas pernas entonteciam-me, e
no entanto apetecia-me, palavra de honra, acariciar-te
o cabelo, cheirar-te a pele, apertar-te, desculpa a
franqueza mas apetecia-me apertar-te, sentir-te os
ossos, a barriga(...)"

antónio lobo antunes
crónica aquele ali atrás sou eu
(revista visão 9 a 15 fev de 2006)

terça-feira, março 28, 2006

é raro é humano

quinta-feira, fevereiro 16, 2006

domingo, janeiro 22, 2006

magnus - assault on magnus

"and tell me what you're gonna do,
you suffocated lover
as subtle as the night is calling
someone's gotta suffer, tell me...

and tell what's it gonna be
the morning you discover
you were nothing but a breeze
blowing through another

this feeling's got a grip on time
he love it to control you
cause it makes you feel alive
even though you know
it's just a lie

so tell me what you're gonna do
you suffocated lover
let the wind just carry you
the night will be your cover, tell me

is it just a fading high
wondering do i know you
are we gonna give a try
wanna be up
but not all the time

tell me what you're gonna do
you suffocated lover
as subtle as the night is calling,
someone's gotta suffer, tell me

sometimes i'm far and lonely
someone's big city
sometimes i am hungry, hungry
i don't sit here
some tried on me oh man
i now said it
sometimes i am hungry, hungry
i won't sit here

(that's such a beautiful story.
you know, my mother always say:
"andrea, life is short. you have to perform all
the miracles that you can.")"

assault on magnus by magnus

quinta-feira, janeiro 19, 2006

elliott smith - i didn't understand

thought you'd be looking for the next in line to love then ignore
put out and put away
and so you'd soon be leaving me alone like i'm supposed to be tonight, tomorrow and everyday
there's nothing here that you'll miss
i can guarantee you this
is a cloud of smoke
trying to occupy space
what a fucking joke
what a fucking joke
i waited for a bus to separate the both of us and take me off far away from you
'cos my feelings never change a bit i always feel like shit
i don't know why i guess that i "just do"
you once talked to me about love and you painted pictures of a never-neverland
and i could've gone to that place
but i didn't understand
i didn't understand
i didn't understand