coisas simples

les amours imaginaires

era o café e um digestivo

Joan As Police Woman - Eternal Flame

amor e coisas (que não são assim tão) simples

"in hell you’re always in love
with nothing to love,
and something hates you
for all the wrong reasons"

Charles Bukowski

segundas que são sextas

Michael Kiwanuka - I'll Get Along

fim-de-semana

Washed Out - New Theory

amor e coisas simples

‎'a única verdade é o amor além da razão.'

alfred de musset

lambarices

jimmy fallon slow jam the news with barack obama

coisas simples

Morrissey - Do Your Best And Don't Worry

lambarices

as 10 canções mais deprimentes de sempre

de paris, com amor

isabelle pierre - le temps est bon

mensagem # 1000

publicadas (1000)

dois comentários possíveis: estou de parabéns e tenho de arranjar uma vida social...

amor e coisas (que não são assim tão) simples

There is room in my lap
For bruises, asses, handclaps
I will never disappear
For forever, I'll be here

Fever Ray - Keep The Streets Empty For Me

sobre os incondicionais

a carolina

coisas simples

'i used to feel so alone in the city. all of those gazllions of people and then me, on the outside. because how do you meet a new person? i was very stumped by this for many years. and then I realized, you just say, «hi». they may ignore you. or you may marry them. and that possibility is worth that one word.'

augusten burroughs

doping matinal

Beach House - Lazuli

lambarices

confirmação

‘pain is important: how we evade it, how we succumb to it, how we deal with it, how we transcend it.’

audre lorde

para dormir de um sono só

Justin Vernon - A Song For a Lover Of Long Ago

doping matinal

Sharon Van Etten - Serpents

amor e coisas simples

Good Will Hunting

frases que tinham tudo para dar certo

'vais fazer o grosso'

numa reunião de trabalho.

lambarices

Jessie Ware - 110%

frases que tinham tudo para dar certo

'gosto de sentir estas curvas na minha língua'

a w, a propósito de uns rissóis sinuosos.

fuck this shit; i wanna be a stripper

The Walkmen - Heaven

lambarices

Paul McCartney's - My Valentine

Featuring Natalie Portman and Johnny Depp

25th hour - mirror scene

Yeah, fuck you, too. Fuck me? Fuck you! Fuck you and this whole city and everyone in it. Fuck the panhandlers, grubbing for money, and smiling at me behind my back. Fuck 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 and stinking up my day. Terrorists in fucking training. Slow the fuck down! Fuck the Chelsea boys with their waxed chests and pumped up biceps. Going down on each other in my parks and on my piers, jingling their dicks on my Channel 35. 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 speaky English? Fuck the Russians in Brighton Beach. Mobster thugs sitting in cafés, 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 Chassidim, strolling up and down 47th 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 Gecko wannabe mother fuckers, figuring out new ways to rob hard working 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! Tyco! Imclone! Adelphia! Worldcom! Fuck the Puerto Ricans. 20 to a car, swelling up the welfare rolls, worst fuckin' parade in the city. And don't even get me started on the Dom-in-i-cans, because they make the Puerto Ricans look good. Fuck the Bensonhurst Italians with their pomaded hair, their nylon warm-up suits, and 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 Hermés scarves and their fifty-dollar Balducci artichokes. 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 fives steps on every lay-up to the hoop. And then they want to turn around and blame everything on the white man. Slavery ended one hundred and thirty seven years ago. Move the fuck on! Fuck the corrupt cops with their anus violating plungers and their 41 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 JC! 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 fuckin Otisville, Jay! Fuck Osama Bin Laden, Alqueda, 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 seventy-two whores roasting in a jet-fueled fire in hell. You towel headed camel jockeys can kiss my royal, Irish ass! Fuck Jacob Elinski, whining malcontent. Fuck Francis Xavier Slaughtery, my best friend, judging me while he stares at my girlfriend's ass. Fuck Naturel Rivera. 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 Island. Let an earthquake crumble it. Let the fires rage. Let it burn to fuckin ash then let the waters rise and submerge this whole, rat-infested place. No. No, fuck you, Montgomery Brogan. You had it all and then you threw it away, you dumb fuck!

furto simples

para dormir de um sono só

Kurt Vile - Baby's Arms

domingos

The Tallest Man On Earth - Like The Wheel

sou um lamechas fodido

Every now and then I see I part of you I haven’t seen
Birds can swim and fish can fly the road is long I wonder way
One of these days you’ll realize what you mean to me
Every now and then I see a part of you I’ve never seen
Well I try to talk but I can’t
My soul has turned to steel
This happens every now and then when I try to tell you just how I feel
So if you ever love somebody
You gotta keep them close
When you lose grip of their body
You’ll be falling
Because I’m falling
Deeper in love
In love
Deeper in love
In love
Deeper in love
In love

Ryan O'Shaughnessy - No Name

Britain's Got Talent 2012 audition

contra a chuva, marcha, marchar

Gala Drop - Drop

merdas que me assolam

reduções mamárias.

'era o café e o digestivozinho'

Daniel Rossen - Silent Song

coisas simples

'any man who can drive safely while kissing a pretty girl is simply not giving the kiss the attention it deserves.'

albert einstein

estado do tempo

Andycode - The Glare

sobre os incondicionais

o joão

coisas simples

Real Estate - Easy

sobre as despedidas

Adeus

'Já gastámos as palavras pela rua, meu amor,
e o que nos ficou não chega
para afastar o frio de quatro paredes.
Gastámos tudo menos o silêncio.
Gastámos os olhos com o sal das lágrimas,
gastámos as mão à força de as apertarmos,
gastámos o relógio e as pedras das esquinas
em esperas inúteis.

Meto as mãos nas algibeiras
e não encontro nada.
Antigamente tínhamos tanto para dar um ao outro!
Era como se todas as coisas fossem minhas:
quanto mais te dava mais tinha para te dar.

Às vezes tu dizias: os teus olhos são peixes verdes!
e eu acreditava.
Acreditava,
porque ao teu lado
todas as coisas eram possíveis.
Mas isso era no tempo dos segredos,
no tempo em que o teu corpo era um aquário,
no tempo em que os meus olhos
eram peixes verdes.
Hoje são apenas os meus olhos.
É pouco, mas é verdade,
uns olhos como todos os outros.

Já gastámos as palavras.
Quando agora digo: meu amor...,
já se não passa absolutamente nada.
E no entanto, antes das palavras gastas,
tenho a certeza
de que todas as coisas estremeciam
só de murmurar o teu nome
no silêncio do meu coração.
Não temos já nada para dar.
Dentro de ti
não há nada que me peça água.
O passado é inútil como um trapo.
E já te disse: as palavras estão gastas.

Adeus.'

Eugénio de Andrade

amor e coisas simples

juno

para ouvir (também) com os olhos

Spiritualized - Hey Jane

sobre as agradáveis supresas

@ santiago de compostela

doping para regresso ao activo

Spector - Chevy Thunder

la famiglia

'a man who doesn't spend time with his family can never be a real man.'

don dorleone, the godfather.

para dormir de um sono só

Sea Oleena - Orion's Eyes

um dia vou morar aqui

@ moledo

para dormir de um sono só

bill callahan - jim cain

amor e coisas simples

marion: and even if this person bugs you sixty percent of the time, well you still can't live without him. and even if he wakes you up every day by sneezing right in your face, well you love his sneezes more than anyone else's kisses.

2 Days in Paris

boa páscoa

Electric Guest - This Head I Hold

motes

merdas que me assolam

dizer 'força, força!'...

para dormir de um sono só

Destroyer - Archer on the Beach & Grief Point

lambarices

To Rome With Love, Woody Allen

adoro o meu trabalho

‎'o regime da sobrevigência ou ultra-actividade potencialmente limitada.'

eça ficaria orgulhoso!

carrega meireles!

coisas simples

'se o mundo é a doença, o amor é a cura.'

uma senhora ontem ao telefone no metro.

quinta-feira santa

California Wives - Purple

motes

'Il faut être toujours ivre, tout est là ; c'est l'unique question. Pour ne pas sentir l'horrible fardeau du temps qui brise vos épaules et vous penche vers la terre, il faut vous enivrer sans trêve.

Mais de quoi? De vin, de poésie, ou de vertu à votre guise, mais enivrez-vous!

Et si quelquefois, sur les marches d'un palais, sur l'herbe verte d'un fossé, vous vous réveillez, l'ivresse déjà diminuée ou disparue, demandez au vent, à la vague, à l'étoile, à l'oiseau, à l'horloge; à tout ce qui fuit, à tout ce qui gémit, à tout ce qui roule, à tout ce qui chante, à tout ce qui parle, demandez quelle heure il est. Et le vent, la vague, l'étoile, l'oiseau, l'horloge, vous répondront, il est l'heure de s'enivrer ; pour ne pas être les esclaves martyrisés du temps, enivrez-vous, enivrez-vous sans cesse de vin, de poésie, de vertu, à votre guise.'

Charles Baudelaire

bodas de ouro

The Rolling Stones - Emotional Rescue

sobre os milagres

'Why, who makes much of a miracle?
As to me I know of nothing else but miracles,
Whether I walk the streets of Manhattan,
Or dart my sight over the roofs of houses toward the sky,
Or wade with naked feet along the beach just in the edge of the water,
Or stand under trees in the woods,
Or talk by day with any one I love, or sleep in the bed at night
with any one I love,
Or sit at table at dinner with the rest,
Or look at strangers opposite me riding in the car,
Or watch honey-bees busy around the hive of a summer forenoon,
Or animals feeding in the fields,
Or birds, or the wonderfulness of insects in the air,
Or the wonderfulness of the sundown, or of stars shining so quiet
and bright,
Or the exquisite delicate thin curve of the new moon in spring;
These with the rest, one and all, are to me miracles,
The whole referring, yet each distinct and in its place.

To me every hour of the light and dark is a miracle,
Every cubic inch of space is a miracle,
Every square yard of the surface of the earth is spread with the same,
Every foot of the interior swarms with the same.
To me the sea is a continual miracle,
The fishes that swim - the rocks - the motion of the waves - the
ships with men in them,
What stranger miracles are there?

Walt Whitman

'era o café e um digestivozinho'

cut off your hands - still fond

para dormir de um sono só

beach house - myth

merdas que me assolam

estar demasiado cansado para dormir.

semanas curtas

Austra - Lose It

desenvolvimento sustentável

estado do tempo

Dum Dum Girls - Coming Down

merdas que me assolam

não haver um meio termo entre 'merda' e 'cocó'.

'era o café e um digestivozinho'

Van She - Kelly

luz

lisbon light

'the light crossing the room between
the two windows is always the same, although
on one side it’s west - where the sun is now - and on
the other it’s east - where the sun has already been. in the room
west and east meet, and it is this light
that makes my gaze uncertain for not knowing
which hour held the first light. then i look at the thread
of light stretched between both windows, as if
it had no beginning and no end; and
i start pulling it inwards into
the room, winding it up, as if i could
use it to tie up both ends
of the day into midday, and let the time be
stopped between two windows, west
and east, until the thread
unwinds, and everything
begins all over again.'

nuno júdice

like a boss!

quando for grande quero um destes.

segunda-feira *

Sigur Rós - Ekki Múkk

* ou como uma música pode dizer qual o estado do tempo.

mote para finais de dia chuvosos

The Vaccines - Post Break-Up Sex