Luis Soares's Blog, page 613
August 6, 2013
August 5, 2013
Jay-Z as performance artist.
Vale o que vale mas é sem dúvida interessante. Ou se calhar já é só anedota mas no público esteve gente como Alan Cumming, Jim Jarmusch e a própria Marina Abramovic. Jay-Z (não tenho a certeza em relação ao hífen) 'performou' Picasso Baby durante seis horas no MoMA e Mark Romanek fez um pequeno documentário. Está abaixo.
Err in the direction of kindness.
George Saunders escreveu o que é, até agora, um dos meus livros favoritos deste ano, o livro de contos "Tenth of December". Acontecimentos recentes na minha vida puseram-me também a pensar na 'bondade' enquanto atitude de vida, no bem que fazemos ou não aos outros ou pelos outros. Soube-me assim muito bem ler este discurso que o dito George Saunders proferiu na Universidade de Syracuse para a classe de 2013 e que o New York Times publicou na íntegra.
Down through the ages, a traditional form h...
August 4, 2013
Pulp - This Is Hardcore
You are hardcore, you make me hard.
You name the drama and I'll play the part.
It seems I saw you in some teenage wet dream.
I like your get up if you know what I mean.
I want it bad. I want it now.
Oh can't you see I'm ready now.
I've seen all the pictures,
I've studied them forever.
I wanna make a movie so let's star in it
together.
Don't make a move 'til I say, "Action."
Oh, here comes the Hardcore life.
Put your money where your mouth is tonight.
Leave your make-up on & I'll leave on the light.
Com...
August 3, 2013
So ist mein Jesus nun gefangen.
Soprano & Alto
Coro
Sporano & Alto
Coro
Soprano & Alto
So ist mein Jesus nun gefangen.
Laßt ihn, haltet, bindet nicht!
Mond und Licht ist vor Schmerzen untergangen, weil mein Jesus ist gefangen.
Laßt ihn, haltet, bindet nicht!
Laßt ihn, haltet, bindet nicht!
Sie führen ihn, er ist gebunden.
Coro
Sind Blitze, sind Donner in Wolken verschwunden. Eröffne den feurigen Abgrund, o Hölle, zertrümmre, verschlinge, zerschelle, mit plötzlicher Wut den falschen Verräter, das mördrische Blut!
Donald Barthelme - Critique de la Vie Quotidienne
While I read the Journal of Sensory Deprivation, Wanda, my former wife, read Elle. Elle was an incitement to revolt to one who had majored in French in college and now had nothing much to do with herself except take care of a child and look out of the window. Wanda empathizes with the magazine. “Femmes enceintes, ne mangez pas de bifteck cru!” Elle once proclaimed, and Wanda complied. Not a shred of bifteck cru passed her lips during the whole period of her pregnancy. She cultivated, as Elle...
