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luís soares

Blog do escritor Luís Soares

You Can't Win, Charlie Brown - Above the Wall

(composto por You Can't Win, Charlie Brown - letra de Afonso Cabral)

Realizador: Tomás Sousa / Produtor: We Are Plastic Too
Guitarras: Afonso Cabral / Luis Costa 
Teclados: Afonso Cabral / David Santos / João Gil
Baixo: Salvador Menezes
Vozes: Salvador Menezes / Tomás Sousa / Afonso Cabral
Bateria: Tomás Sousa

Gravado por Fabio Jevelim / Makoto Yagyu / Miguel Abelaira
Misturado por: Luis Nunes
Masterização por: Alan Douches – West Westside Music

American Gods

Check out the first look at the new STARZ original series American Gods coming in 2017.

When Shadow Moon is released from prison, he meets the mysterious Mr. Wednesday and a storm begins to brew. Little does Shadow know, this storm will change the course of his entire life. Left adrift by the recent, tragic death of his wife, and suddenly hired as Mr. Wednesday’s bodyguard, Shadow finds himself in the center of a world that he struggles to understand. It’s a world where magic is real, where the Old Gods fear both irrelevance and the growing power of the New Gods, like Technology and Media. Mr. Wednesday seeks to build a coalition of Old Gods to defend their existence in this new America, and reclaim some of the influence that they’ve lost. As Shadow travels across the country with Mr. Wednesday, he struggles to accept this new reality, and his place in it.

The Return of the Pimp Shrimp - FEEL SAFE 88 (just say no)

Archy Marshall has released music under many pseudonyms. Last year, he put out 'A New Place 2 Drown' under his own name, and his most notable work has come as King Krule. At various points, he’s also been Zoo Kid, DJ JD Sports, and Edgar the Beatmaker. Now, Marshall has shared a new song as “The Return of Pimp Shrimp,” as Pigeons & Planes points out.  He wrote on the official King Krule Facebook, “another age another name for the stomps.” Hear his new song “FEEL SAFE 88 (just say no)” above.

Arnaldo Antunes lê Paulo Leminski

Poema lido no vídeo: contranarciso, de Paulo Leminski

em mim
eu vejo o outro
e outro
e outro
enfim dezenas
trens passando
vagões cheios de gente
o outro
que há em mim
é você
e você
assim como
eu estou em você
eu estou nele
em nós
e só quando
estamos em nós
estamos em paz
mesmo que estejamos a sós

(Produção do vídeo: Mínimas)

George Saunders - A Manifesto for People Reluctant To Kill for an Abstraction

Last Thursday, my organization, People Reluctant To Kill for an Abstraction, orchestrated an overwhelming show of force around the globe.


At precisely 9 in the morning, working with focus and stealth, our entire membership succeeded in simultaneously beheading no one. At 10, Phase II began, during which our entire membership did not force a single man to suck another man's penis. Also, none of us blew himself/herself up in a crowded public place. No civilians were literally turned inside out via our powerful explosives. In addition, at 11, in Phase III, zero (0) planes were flown into buildings.


During Phase IV, just after lunch, we were able to avoid bulldozing a single home. Furthermore, we set, on roads in every city, in every nation in the world, a total of zero (0) roadside bombs which, not being there, did not subsequently explode, killing/maiming a total of nobody. No bombs were dropped, during the lazy afternoon hours, on crowded civilian neighborhoods, from which, it was observed, no post-bomb momentary silences were then heard. These silences were, in all cases, followed by no unimaginable, grief-stricken bellows of rage, and/or frantic imprecations to a deity. No sleeping baby was awakened from an afternoon nap by the sudden collapse and/or bursting into flame of his/her domicile during Phase IV.


In the late afternoon (Phase V), our membership focused on using zero (0) trained dogs to bite/terrorize naked prisoners. In addition, no stun guns, rubber batons, rubber bullets, tear gas, or bullets were used, by our membership, on any individual, anywhere in the world. No one was forced to don a hood. No teeth were pulled in darkened rooms. No drills were used on human flesh, nor were whips or flames. No one was reduced to hysterical tears via a series of blows to the head or body, by us. Our membership, while casting no racial or ethnic aspersions, skillfully continued not to rape, gang-rape, or sexually assault a single person. On the contrary, during this late-afternoon phase, many of our membership flirted happily and even consoled, in a nonsexual way, individuals to whom they were attracted, putting aside their sexual feelings out of a sudden welling of empathy.


As night fell, our membership harbored no secret feelings of rage or, if they did, meditated, or discussed these feelings with a friend until such time as the feelings abated, or were understood to be symptomatic of some deeper sadness.


It should be noted that, in addition to the above-listed and planned activities completed by our members, a number of unplanned activities were completed by part-time members, or even nonmembers.


In London, a bitter homophobic grandfather whose grocery bag broke open gave a loaf of very nice bread to a balding gay man who stopped to help him. A stooped toothless woman in Tokyo pounded her head with her hands, tired beyond belief of her lifelong feelings of anger and negativity, and silently prayed that her heart would somehow be opened before it was too late. In Syracuse, New York, holding the broken body of his kitten, a man felt a sudden kinship for all small things.


Even declared nonmembers, it would appear, responded to our efforts. In Chitral, Pakistan, for example, a recent al-Qaida recruit remembered the way an elderly American tourist once made an encouraging remark about his English, and how, as she made the remark, she touched his arm, like a mother. In Gaza, an Israeli soldier and a young Palestinian, just before averting their eyes and muttering insults in their respective languages, exchanged a brief look of mutual shame.


Who are we? A word about our membership.


Since the world began, we have gone about our work quietly, resisting the urge to generalize, valuing the individual over the group, the actual over the conceptual, the inherent sweetness of the present moment over the theoretically peaceful future to be obtained via murder. Many of us have trouble sleeping and lie awake at night, worrying about something catastrophic befalling someone we love. We rise in the morning with no plans to convert anyone via beating, humiliation, or invasion. To tell the truth, we are tired. We work. We would just like some peace and quiet. When wrong, we think about it awhile, then apologize. We stand under awnings during urban thunderstorms, moved to thoughtfulness by the troubled, umbrella-tinged faces rushing by. In moments of crisis, we pat one another awkwardly on the back, mumbling shy truisms. Rushing to an appointment, remembering a friend who has passed away, our eyes well with tears and we think: Well, my God, he could be a pain, but still I'm lucky to have known him.


This is PRKA. To those who would oppose us, I would simply say: We are many. We are worldwide. We, in fact, outnumber you. Though you are louder, though you create a momentary ripple on the water of life, we will endure, and prevail.


Join us.


Resistance is futile.

Angel Olsen - Sister

Directors: Angel Olsen & Conor Hagen

Producer: Anthony Restivo

Edited & Colored by: Jethro Waters

Director of Photography: Conor Hagen

Camera Operator/AC: Phil Spinner

Stylist: Sofia Karchi

Stylist: Maya Marin

Special thanks to Ashley Connor & Will Castellucci