terça-feira, setembro 30, 2008

O buço

Não.

Não. Assim não pode ser. Gastam-se rios de massa a promover Portugal. Muda-se o nome do Algarve para o mais fashionable "ALLgarve". Pespegam-se as caras em tamanho monumental do Cristiano Ronaldo, do Mourinho e sei lá mais de quem pela cidade afora e, quiçá, noutras cidades. Há uma Secretaria, instituições, associações, fundações, clubes, pessoas em barda a serem pagas para mostrar ao estrangeiro que Portugal é um país dinâmico, moderno, desenvolvido e, principalmente, longe dos estereótipos das velhinhas vestidas de preto e com um buço majestoso a cavalgarem o seu jumento pelas ruas desertas de uma qualquer aldeola caiada de branco. Mas o amigo estrangeiro, quando chega a altura de mandar um "oh so typical" postal para casa, qual é que vai escolher quando passa por um daqueles omnipresentes expositores de postais?

Pois é.











Assim não senhores. Alguém tem de fazer alguma coisa.

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domingo, setembro 28, 2008

Build

Dividing?
Those times are over my friend.
A new era is upon us. I don't want to divide.
Dividing is what we teach our young ones.
Well, i'm not one of them anymore.
I want to build.


Gunther Dünn

RIP Paul Newman


1925-2008


sábado, setembro 27, 2008

Tierra Santa

E na sequência do post anterior....Foram a banda sonora das minhas férias. O "Slaves for Life" dos Amaseffer também lá andou, mas na verdade perdi a conta às vezes em que atravessei aquela "belíssima" localidade da Costa da Caparica com estes senhores a bombar a bom som.

Legendario:



Hamlet:



Una Juventud Perdida:



Quien Llora Hoy Por Tì:



La Cancion Del Pirata:



Pegaso:



Juana de Arco:



Alas de Fuego:



Hoy Vivo Por Ti:



Sim, atraí bastantes atenções, mas so fuckin' what? Um tributo adequado a uma banda que, aparentemente, is no more. O que é uma grande perda para a música em geral e para a música espanhola em particular. Pouco mais vem de lá que seja de jeito....


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sexta-feira, setembro 26, 2008

Rumbo a las Estrellas



Quisiera ser audaz
navegar hacia el horizonte
surcar las olas del mar

Sentir el viento en mí
dominar la tempestad
tener por rumbo las estrellas

Buscar mi sueño
donde el cielo aun sea azul
viajar sin miedo a naufragar
y una bandera solo izar...
Libertad

Olvidar que el destino me engaño
que mi vida se escapo
perdida entre los muros del destierro

Olvidar mi tormento y mi dolor
mi lamento y mi prision
Zarpar poniendo rumbo...
rumbo a las estrellas
rumbo a las estrellas
poder volar allí

Y aunque la noche
se apodere de la luz
buscare mi libertad
mas alla de las estrellas

Quisiera ver el mar
elevarse hacia la luna
mirar su danza escapar

Poder volar alli
acercarme a su amistad
bailar con ellas aunque muera

Buscar mi sueño
donde el cielo aun sea azul
viajar sin miedo a naufragar
y una bandera solo izar...
Libertad

Olvidar que el destino me engaño
que mi vida se escapo
perdida entre los muros del destierro

Olvidar mi tormeto y mi dolor
mi lamento y mi prision
Zarpar poniendo rumbo...
rumbo a las estrellas
rumbo a las estrellas
poder volar allí

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quinta-feira, setembro 25, 2008

Ocean





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quarta-feira, setembro 24, 2008

Clone Wars




Pelos vistos não sou um grande nerd do Star Wars, senão teria sabido com a devida antecedência deste filme, em vez de ser surpreendido pelo trailer numa sala de cinema. Por outro lado até teve mais piada. Embora o facto de ser uma animação me tenha deixado assim a modos de pé atrás. Mas enfim...não foi preciso grande esforço para ir ver. Muito menos num ano aparentemente dedicado ao cinema. Star Wars? Venha ele.
E bom, valha a verdade, não é nada mau. Sinceramente estava à espera duma banhada qualquer, mas de facto o filme divertiu-me e manteve-me interessado mesmo até ao fim. A expansão do Universo Star Wars pode dar lugar a exageros e complicações desnecessárias, mas conseguiram evitá-las aqui, e muito bem.
A animação parece algo rude ou melhor, estilizada. Torna as coisas menos credíveis por um lado, mas por outro, assume-se totalmente que se trata de uma animação, pelo que, no fim, acaba por funcionar.
Espécie de prelúdio à série que o Cartoon Network irá estrear em Outubo (será que a Cabovisão apanha "este" Cartoon Network?), é um filme que acaba por entreter muito bem. Mas sim, calculo que o fanático da saga deva encontrar mil e um motivos para criticar. Enfim. Quanto a mim, a única coisa que lamento é a falta do clássico painel de letras amarelas e subirem obliquamente pelo ecrã. Mas pronto. É passável.


Trailer:



Trailer da série animada:



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domingo, setembro 21, 2008

To Ania & Staff



There's not much one can say i guess. Except "Thank You". Yes, that's it. Less is more, as they say. And in those simple two words you will find a multitude of laughs, kisses, hugs, joy, happiness...and also funny faces! LOL Anyway, you were here, so you know how good it was.
Staff, thanks for all the conversations about all and nothing. Like i said in the last night, i would be up and running watching every DVD i have just to keep on talking. With or without red wine. You're fuckin' metal my friend!
Ania, thank you for being so sweet and funny, for being there for me and making me laugh. And of course, for bringing the sun with you (amazing damnit). I'm sorry if i spoke portuguese too quickly sometimes, but i really tried hard (portuguese damnit! lol). Anyway i do thank you also about the shnouruvki lol. Jesteś piękna! Oh, and Ania....WHERE'S MY LIGHTER GODDAMNIT!???????

We'll meet again.

sábado, setembro 13, 2008

sexta-feira, setembro 12, 2008

quarta-feira, setembro 10, 2008

Long Train Running

The train pulled into the small station slowly and almost looking tired and jaded. John wondered how would a train feel, if it had any feelings that is, always going through the same tracks, day after day, picking up all these people who don’t look very happy at all. It would be depressing John thought. Maybe the train companies had to set up some sort of train shrink or whatever.
Anyway, 6:30 AM in New Jersey, heading to New York. Another day, another dollar, or so they say.
John entered the train and he did what he usually did: assess the surroundings. Long time ago his aikido sensei told him that one has to be always ready, awake and aware of what surrounds him. And since his youth plans of turning into this macho man running around the streets protecting the defenceless and saving young damsels in distress never came to be, he had no other place to practice his highly martial skills than in the train.
He scanned the carriage trying to find a seat, preferably not near any bum, fat people (damn these narrow seats), crying babies or nosy old hags that wouldn’t shut up even if their life depended on that.
Awkwardly, there were lots of seats empty, and he was happy with that. He sat next to a window and felt at ease, letting himself go in the barren wasteland that the window now showed him. He averted his eyes with a sigh.
The train was just restarting his way and John was surprised not having noticed it had stopped in the next station. Yeah the human auto-pilot must've kicked in.
A woman carrying lots of shopping bags approached him and sat next to him. Typical. With so many seats available this old hag had to choose the closest one even though she would go more comfortable a few seats further. And what in God’s name is someone doing with so god damned bags, shopping bags, at 6:30 AM? (It was actually 6:50 AM, but John didn’t know that because his watch had stopped. But he will find that out soon).
He grabbed his book and turned on his discman, pumping up the volume of Bowie’s “Ziggy Stardust” to avoid the screaming child that also entered the train with is too indulgent mother.
He went through Thoreau’s “Walden, Or Life On The Woods”, dwelling on the feeling of utter loneliness the book exhaled and thinking how it would be to live in such extreme conditions, with no one around.
Deep into his book, and deprived of any external sound by his music, away from a carriage with so many people, he suddenly realized that he was, in a way, living isolated from the outside world.
He looked to the half filled carriage and suddenly noticed that a lot of people there were also hanging to their own mp3 readers, books, newspapers, the floor or the window…..hardly anyone was actually in contact. Lonely people in a lonely World.
John felt that he, and all of the others, had built some sort of wall, or better yet, a castle around themselves. Something that it was hard to overcame…both to the people outside and the person inside. It isolated them from one another.
It's weird, he thought, that the more lonely people are, and the more they felt sad because of it, the more they made their loneliness bigger, with all the gadgets, and what not, that this World made available. "All the lonely people, where do they all belong?" indeed, like Macca used to sing. Well, they sure don't seem to belong anywhere special. People talk about the dangers of Globalization, and even rally and demonstrate against it, but no one seemed to think about the ever growing Individuality that was spreading in each and every soul. John cringed a bit because he recognized that he too was a bit taken by it...but he struggled, he wanted something different. But those damn castle walls were a real tough nut to crack! Not that he was any better than the rest...but still...damn World.
Everyone nowadays appears to be over-conscious of themselves. Only the "I" and the "Me" seem to survive. Each and everyone seems to worry mainly about their own rights, desires and ambitions. Not a case of egotistical behaviour though. Maybe some kind of screwed up priorities.
Everyone tried hard to preserve their "I's" and "Me's" and just be different than everyone else. Everyone tried hard to escape the herd, but the harder they tried, the same they all look.
No wonder unhappiness roamed the land. Who will take the first step and get out of this god forsaken train ride?


Gunther Dünn
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terça-feira, setembro 09, 2008

Remar Remar....



Mares convulsos, ressacas estranhas
Cruzam-te a alma de verde escuro
As ondas que te empurram
Aa vagas que te esmagam
Contra tudo lutas
Contra tudo falhas

Todas as tuas explosões
Redundam em silêncio
Nada me diz

Berras às bestas
Que te sufocam
Em braços viscosos
Cheios de pavor
Esse frio surdo
O frio que te envolve
Nasce na fonte
Na fonte da dor

Remar remar
Força a corrente
Ao mar, ao mar
Que mata a gente


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segunda-feira, setembro 08, 2008

domingo, setembro 07, 2008

Este ano foram os:


Hiffen dos Açores. Foi uma sorte apanhá-los no palco, porque para cada lado que se olhava saltava um horário diferente. Portanto foi mesmo por acaso que os apanhámos. E sim senhor. Gostei bastante do som deles. Heavy metal com grandes doses de progressivo e vocalista feminino. Segundo diz a LOUD! celebraram recentemente o se 12º aniversário. Álbuns só um, "Crashing" de seu nome, que, naturalmente, tratámos de adquirir imediatamente a seguir ao concerto. A banda estava nitidamente feliz de estar ali e foram simpáticos assinando os belos dos CDs.

Palavras para quê? Som e imagem dizem tudo. Embora deva dizer que, após audição repetida do álbum ontem (numa malfadada operação stop quas eà porta de casa), os Hiffen actualmente soam melhor ao vivo. Ainda melhor. Hmmm... será possível que tenham conseguido cantar metal em português sem se tornar demasiado constrangedor? Ah pois conseguiram.


"Rainbow":


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sexta-feira, setembro 05, 2008

Adiante, siga!

http://blitz.aeiou.pt/gen.pl?p=stories&op=view&fokey=bz.stories/30382

E mais uma vez. Xutos, Júlio Pereira, X-Wife, Wraygunn, Verdi, Rossini, Mozart, Puccini, Phil Mendrix, etc etc.

quinta-feira, setembro 04, 2008

James @ Crato 30 Agosto Pt II

Gettin' Away With It (All Messed Up)



Excerto de Say Something com mais um 'banho de multidão' do Tim, desta vez com a ajuda de uma mão amiga, literalmente!



Sometimes e o Grupo Coral do Crato e Arredores a partir dos 4:10 LOL:



Excerto de Sit Down:



Laid:

James @ Crato Pt. I







Bom, a verdade é que a primeira foto não é do Crato, mas sim de Mora, mas adiante. Foi uma paragem agadável na viagem. A ver se encontro uns videos porreiros agora.
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Caught In The Middle



Looking inside of yourself
You might see someone you don't know
Maybe it's just what you need
Letting the river in you flow

You can sail away to the sun
And let it burn you while you can
Or walk a long bloody road
Like the hero who never ran

You'll feel it
You'll feel it
You'll feel the rush of it all

Flying away int the clouds
You know you're loosing your control
Finding you way in the dark
Like some poor forgotten soul

You'll feel it
You'll see it
You'll feel the rush of the city lights
You'll feel it
I see it in your eyes, you're

Caught in the middle
Just like the way you've always been
Caught in the middle
Helpless again

Looking inside of yourself
You might see someone you don't know
Maybe it's just what you need
Letting the river I know that's in you flow

You'll feel it
You'll see it
You'll feel the rush of thunder
You'll feel it
I see it in your eyes, you're

Caught in the middle
Just like the way you've always been
Caught in the middle
Helpless again

RJD



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terça-feira, setembro 02, 2008

Dieter

“To Hell with them all!” said Dieter all of a sudden in his thick german accent.
I couldn’t help but smile remembering the first time I heard that odd accent. In the first days of our acquaintance it always made me cringe. But I got used to it quickly as I went on to know this crazy german guy with a flare for flamboyance and an all together short temper that made him explode once in a while, sometimes for the smallest of things. I believe enough time has already passed from World War II that allows me to make the comparison: he sometimes seemed like a Panzer division roaming and stomping through some European field not stopping at nothing. He, of course, as any other german, would hate this analogy. But, well, I made it, it’s done.
But nevertheless he was actually a quite likeable man, even sweet at times. Over confident (too much probably), bombastic, and self assured. Something that he would certainly saw as a result of 39 years of living on his toes, always moving, swift and quick as a….well, I won’t make that comparison again.
In fact even today I wonder how in the hell he and I hook up in that bar in East Berlin, before the tear down of the Wall, and remain friends until today.
Dieter always walked in a thin line, especially on those days of secrecy, secret police, repression and fear. With his “too americanized” look, jeans, black t-shirt and a worn leather jacket, he looked like some character of those American movies from the 50’s. Something that would be looked upon as a ‘cliché’ nowadays. The rebel, the outlaw. But, like I said, he always walked in a thin line, and knew where and when not to cross it.
However, in the rare occasions when he didn’t know, I was there. I was the cautious one, that annoying little guy in the back that weighs all the pros and cons, and sometimes even presents a written paper with them. Talk about annoying hey? Sometimes Dieter was a real pain in the neck, my neck! But I knew that I also had the ability of getting him mad sometimes, so we made it even.
Maybe that’s why we made such a good team back in those crazy, dangerous days when we organized one of the best routes of escape from East Berlin to the West. We worked great together. Even being so different.
He had a way with women…again, unlike me. They always fell for him, despite all my bewilderment. I never could understand what they saw in him. Sure, he had all of that “James Dean/Marlon Brando” thing going for him. He was kinda handsome and he definitely had the nerve to strike up a conversation out of the blue with any women. And he didn’t even acknowledge that ability. It was normal for him. In fact, when we met in that bar years ago he was engaged in that activity, flirting with some girl in the bar. He soon lost interest when he heard me ordering a double Jack Daniels. That was old Dieter, always fascinated with America, and by then, someone asking for a JD double could only be American, and he’d soon started to talk with me forgetting the poor old girl. He could always get another bird anytime, anywhere.
I was the opposite of course. Which gave me my big share of failures on that field. I always came across as that cute and funny side kick of the hero. With Dieter on my side I didn’t have a chance in that department.
I was afflicted with a unusual, rather pathological shyness, and the somewhat annoying sense of being a gentleman. I always thought that women would be more interested in that than in the rough edges Dieter showed. Of course he too was a romantic fool, but it really didn’t show in that hard armour of sarcasm, semi-arrogance, and general “Mr. Knows-it-all”.
But somehow women liked it. Back then, after we finished a “crossover”, Dieter was so pumped off by the adrenaline that we’d roam several bars on the western side up until the early hours of the dawn.
I didn’t feel that at ease, but I followed him not unwillingly.
I had a almost morbid interest to study his moves and catch phrases and try to understand what was so special about him. But, as it turned out I was always too considerate, too quiet, not exciting, and definitely NOT too keen on telling the dangers we had to overcome that night to get those Easterners safe to capitalist world. Dieter, on the other hand, was TOO keen on boasting and telling every detail of our little…cape and cloak tales.
That, in the end, was the main reason of our fall from grace one moonlit night when we almost got caught in Alexanderplatz. But that’s another story.
In the end we weren’t that different at all. We were both looking for something special, it just happened that we had different ways to look for it. Different methods. I would knock at doors, he simply put his foot through doors!
Linda was his only true love. They got married in 69. Besides me I guess she was the one who really knew him. She was the typical American, blue eyes, blonde and all the rest, and they were in love like in the movies Dieter saw when growing up.
Eventually I met Marie and I too found happiness, she was, and fortunately, still is, all I dreamed of, and I’m glad that my quietness and shyness finally were useful. I’m happy, and saying that is quite a lot.
Unfortunately things changed when Linda was killed by the police, Dieter never returned to his old self again. He seemed to be locked in constant mourning. Feeling sad for the loss, like if a freak accident had severed his arm. Part of his soul died then. And ever since I’ve seen the other part slowly fading away. You youngsters out there are probably rolling your eyes now and thinking “What is this poor old git babbling about?”. I don’t care, in time you too will discover that what you really need in life is quite simple. And when you got it, treasure it, hang on to it, because, you’ll miss it badly when and if it goes away.
Life isn’t as complex as the TV and movies, and magazines wants you to believe. No.
I’m just glad that both me and Dieter found that out in our lives eventually.

Gunther Dünn

segunda-feira, setembro 01, 2008

okey dokey...


You are The Tower


Ambition, fighting, war, courage. Destruction, danger, fall, ruin.

The Tower represents war, destruction, but also spiritual renewal. Plans are disrupted. Your views and ideas will change as a result.

The Tower is a card about war, a war between the structures of lies and the lightning flash of truth. The Tower stands for "false concepts and institutions that we take for real." You have been shaken up; blinded by a shocking revelation. It sometimes takes that to see a truth that one refuses to see. Or to bring down beliefs that are so well constructed. What's most important to remember is that the tearing down of this structure, however painful, makes room for something new to be built.


What Tarot Card are You?
Take the Test to Find Out.

Tropa de Elite



Se bem me lembro do que li, este é o filme mais visto de sempre da história do cinema brasileiro. Ainda não tinha saído oficialmente e já mais de 11 milhões de pessoas tinham visto uma cópia pirateada. E depois de lançado, mais uns quantos milhões foram vê-lo. Ganhou o Urso de Ouro de Melhor Filme em Berlim, entre outros variadíssimos prémios. Quem viu "A Cidade de Deus" ou o "Carandiru", não se surpreenderá com o estilo "in your face", bastante violento e dramático deste "Tropa de Elite".
A história gira em volta do Capitão Nascimento, oficial do BOPE (Batalhão de Operações Policiais Especiais). Prestes a ser pai e acometido por cada vez maiores ataques de stress e fúria ele prepara-se para sair de vez. Mas antes precisa de encontrar um substituto digno. É aqui que entram Neto e Matias, dois oficiais da polícia convencional que lutam contra a corrupção instalada na instituição. O primeiro destaca-se pela coragem e o segundo pela inteligência. Se Nascimento conseguisse reunir essas duas qualidades num só homem estaria encontrado o seu substituto perfeito
As reacções que o filme provocou e tem provocado são mais do que justificadas. É um filme desesperador. A corrupção da polícia convencional e a violência extrema da polícia especial chocam, cada uma à sua maneira. O BOPE, tido como incorruptível quase não olha a meios para atingir os seus fins. E de facto, durante o filme, apesar do que vemos, quase não levamos a mal, tal é a situação de verdadeira guerra urbana que vemos. Talvez isso não justifique...mas a verdade é que é uma situação de "eles ou nós". Especialistas militares americanos têm defendido que as tropas no Iraque deviam treinar com o BOPE, considerados os melhores em guerra urbana. Assustador.
O filme não deixa de ter algum humor (embora não tanto como o que aquele casalinho sentado ao nosso lado achou) e é realmente de destacar a prestação de Wagner Moura, o Capitão Nascimento...pela capacidade de demonstrar tão eficazmente os dois lados de um oficial com família, um homem normal, mas que, por vezes, tem de se transformar e transfigurar.
Estupidamente o filme não foi escolhido para representar o Brasil nos Óscares....enfim.

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