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luís soares

Blog do escritor Luís Soares

Philip Whalen - If You're So Smart, Why Ain't You Rich?

I need everything else 

Anything else 

    Desperately 

But I have nothing 

Shall have nothing 

    but this 

Immediate, inescapable 

    and invaluable 

No one can afford 

    THIS 

Being made here and now 

 

       (Seattle, Washington 

                      17 May, 1955) 

 

                      MARIGOLDS 

 

Concise (wooden) 

       Orange. 

Behind them, the garage door 

       Pink 

(Paint sold under a fatuous name: 

"Old Rose" 

       which brings a war to mind) 

 

And the mind slides over the fence again 

Orange against pink and green 

Uncontrollable! 

 

Returned of its own accord 

It can explain nothing 

Give no account 

 

What good? What worth? 

 

       Dying! 

 

You have less than a second 

       To live 

To try to explain: 

Say that light 

       in particular wave-lengths 

       or bundles wobbling at a given speed 

Produces the experience   

Orange against pink 

Better than a sirloin steak? 

A screen by Korin? 

 

The effect of this, taken internally 

The effect   

               of beauty 

                              on the mind 

 

There is no equivalent, least of all 

These objects 

Which ought to manifest 

A surface disorientation, pitting 

Or striae 

Admitting some plausible interpretation 

 

But the cost 

Can't be expressed in numbers 

dodging between 

       a vagrancy rap 

       and the newest electrical brain-curette 

Eating what the rich are bullied into giving 

Or the poor willingly share 

Depriving themselves 

 

More expensive than ambergris 

       Although the stink   

               isn't as loud. (A few 

Wise men have said, 

       "Produced the same way . . . 

       Vomited out by sick whales.") 

Valuable for the same qualities 

       Staying-power and penetration 

I've squandered every crying dime.

I never discuss love on an empty stomach.

Roger: Well… here we are again.

Eve: Yes.

Roger: You recommend anything?

Eve: The brook trout. A little "trouty" but quite good.

Roger: Sold. "Brook... trout." (to steward) There you are.

Steward: Yes, sir.

Roger: I know. I look vaguely familiar.

Eve: Yes.

Roger: You feel you've seen me somewhere before.

Eve: Hmm hmm.

Roger: I have that effect on people. It's something about my face.

Eve: It's a nice face.

Roger: You think so?

Eve: I wouldn't say it if I didn't.

Roger: Oh, you're that type.

Eve: What type?

Roger: Honest.

Eve: Not really.

Roger: Good. Because honest women frighten me.

Eve: Why?

Roger: I don’t know. Somehow they seem to put me at a disadvantage.

Eve: Because you're not honest with them?

Roger: Exactly.

Eve: Like that business about the seven parking tickets?

Roger: What I mean is, the moment I meet an attractive woman, I... have to start pretending I've no desire to make love to her.

Eve: What makes you think you have to conceal it?

Roger: She might find the idea objectionable.

Eve: Then again, she might not.

Roger: Think how lucky I am to have been seated here.

Eve: Luck had nothing to do with it.

Roger: Fate?

Eve: I tipped the steward $5 to seat you here if you should come in.

Roger: Is that a proposition?

Eve: I never discuss love on an empty stomach.

Roger: You've already eaten.

Eve: But you haven't.

Roger: Don't you think it's time we were introduced?

Eve: I'm Eve Kendall. I'm 26 and unmarried. Now you know everything.

Roger: Tell me, what do you do besides lure men to their doom on the 20th Century Limited?

Eve: I'm an industrial designer.

Roger: Jack Phillips. Western sales manager for Kingby Electronics.

Eve: No, you're not. You're Roger Thornhill of Madison Avenue and you're wanted for murder on every front page in America. Don't be so modest.

Roger: Oops.

Eve: Don't worry. I won't say a word.

Roger: How come?

Eve: I told you. It's a nice face.

Roger: Is that the only reason?

Eve: It's going to be a long night.

Roger: True.

Eve: I don't particularly like the book I've started.

Roger: Aaah…

Eve: You know what I mean?

Roger: Let me think. (pauses) Yes, I know exactly what you mean.

Eve pulls out a cigarette. Roger takes out matches to light it.

Roger: That's my trademark. R.O.T.

Eve: Roger O. Thornhill. What does the "O" stand for?

Roger: Nothing. (lights her cigarette) I'd invite you to my bedroom if I had a bedroom.

Eve: A roomette?

Roger: Nothing, not even a ticket. I've been playing hide-and-seek with the Pullman conductor ever since the train left New York.

Eve: How awkward for you.

Roger: Yes, isn't it? No place to sleep.

Eve: I have a large drawing room all to myself.

Roger: That doesn't seem quite fair, does it?

Eve: Drawing room E. Car 3901.

Roger: Such a nice number.

Eve: It's easy to remember.

Roger: 3901.

Eve: See?

Roger: No luggage.

Eve: So?

Roger: You wouldn't happen to have an extra pair of pajamas, would you?

Eve: Wouldn't I? Incidentally, I wouldn't order any dessert if I were you.

Roger: I get the message.

Eve: That isn't exactly what I meant. This train seems to be making an unscheduled stop and I just saw two men get out of a police car as we pulled into the station. They weren't smiling.

Skewered. One sympathizes.

Vesper walks up to Bond and seats herself across from him

Vesper: I'm the money.

Bond puts down his menu and regards her with an amused smile.

Bond: Every penny of it.

Vesper puts her business card on the table.

Vesper: The Treasury has agreed to stake you in the game.

Bond: ‘Vesper’? I do hope you gave your parents hell for that.

Vesper takes menu from porter.

Vesper: (to the porter) Thank you. (to Bond) Your boss must have some influence. I’ve never seen so go much go out the door so quickly.

Bond: Or so stylishly. May I ask where it is?

Vesper: Ten million was wired to your account in Montenegro, with a contingency for five million more, if I deem it a prudent investment. (as if curious) I suppose you’ve given some thought to the notion that if you lose, our government will have directly financed terrorism. (re:menu) What looks good?

Cut to exterior of train. Back to Vesper and Bond in dining car. Clear that they have just finished their meal. Bond fills Vesper's wine glass

Vesper: So you’re telling me it’s a matter of probability and odds; I was worried there was some chance involved.

Bond: Only if one assumes that the person with the best hand always wins.

Vesper: So that would be what you call ‘bluffing’?

Bond: You've heard the term. Then you may have also heard that in poker you don’t play your hand, you play the man across from you.

Vesper: And you’re good at reading people.

Bond: Which is why I’ve been able to detect an undercurrent of sarcasm in your voice.

Vesper: I am now assured our money is in good hands.

Bond: You don't think this is a very good plan, do you?

Vesper: So there is a plan? Excellent. Somehow I got the impression we were risking ten million dollars and hundreds of people’s lives on a game of luck. What else can you surmise?

Bond: About you, Miss Lynd?… Well your beauty is a problem. You worry that you won’t be taken seriously…

Vesper: Which one can say of any attractive woman with half a brain.

Bond: True, but this one overcompensates by wearing slightly masculine clothing and being more aggressive than her female colleagues, which gives her a somewhat prickly demeanor and, ironically enough, makes her less likely to be accepted and promoted by her male superiors, who mistake her insecurities for arrogance. Now I would normally have gone with only child, but by the way you ignored the quip about your name and your parents I would have to go with orphan?

Vesper: All right… by the cut of your suit you went to Oxford or wherever and actually think human beings dress like that. But you wear it with such disdain, my guess is you didn’t come from money and your school friends never let you forget it, which means you were at that school by the grace of someone else’s charity, hence the chip on your shoulder. And since your first thought about me ran to orphan, that's what I’d say you are. (sees a slight reaction) Oh, you are. I like this poker thing. And it makes sense since MI6 looks for maladjusted young men who’d give little thought to sacrificing others in others to protect queen and country. You know... former SAS types with easy smiles and expensive watches. Rolex?

Bond: Omega.

Vesper: Beautiful. Now having just met you I wouldn’t go as far as calling you a cold hearted bastard.

Bond: Of course not.

Vesper: But it wouldn’t be a stretch to imagine that you think of women as disposable pleasures rather than meaningful pursuits, so as charming as you are, Mr. Bond, I will be keeping my eye on our government’s money and off your perfectly formed arse.

Bond: You noticed.

Vesper: Even accountants have imaginations. How was your lamb?

Bond: Skewered. One sympathizes.

Vesper rises to her feet and gathers her bag.

Vesper: Good evening Mr. Bond.

Bond: Good evening Miss Lynd.

Bond watches her leave, smiling.

Com Dedicatória.

María Villanueva | Guitarra y Voz
Filipe Melo | Piano
Nelson Cascais | Contrabajo
Lucas de Centi | Cajón y Palmas
Sandra Pérez | Palmas

 

Versión de "Historia de un amor" del compositor panameño Carlos Eleta Almarán. Grabada en los estudios Timbuktu el 27 de septiembre de 2017.

Zona Zombie

Música retirada do álbum "Império Auto-Mano" por PZ

https://www.facebook.com/pzpimenta

Realizado por Check It Out Studios
https://www.facebook.com/checkitoutstudio/

 

Argumento: Paulo Zé Pimenta (PZ)

 

Há pessoas que me dizem que eu não faço coisa boa

 

Há pessoas que me dizem “Vai te embora”
E há pessoas que me dizem que eu não bato bem da bola
Há pessoas que me ligam, e desligam

 

Estou na zona zombie
Faço ouvidos moucos
Estou na zona zombie
Por isso eu faço ouvidos moucos

 

Dou-te com um tazer no blazer
Tem cuidado!
Atiro-te uma pizza à camisa
Tem cuidado1
Faço uma sujeira à tua beira
Tem cuidado!
Que eu dou-te com um fazer no blazer
Tem cuidado!

 

Há pessoas que me dizem que eu não faço coisa boa
Há pessoas que insistem, não me lixem
Não comecem, não inventem, nem comentem
Não me levam, não me tentem, não me convém

 

Estou na zona zombie
Faço ouvidos moucos
Estou na zona zombie
Por isso eu faço ouvidos moucos

 

Dou-te com um tazer no blazer
Tem cuidado!
Atiro-te uma pizza à camisa
Tem cuidado1
Faço uma sujeira à tua beira
Tem cuidado!
Que eu dou-te com um fazer no blazer
Tem cuidado!
Tem cuidado!
Tem cuidado!
Tem cuidado!