Barbitúricos

Estarei louco ?

O médico tinha sentido de humor, e receitou-me barbitúricos.

Não preciso de remédios - disse eu. - Sei histórias tenebrosas acerca da vida. De que me servem barbitúricos ?

(excerto de "Estilo", Os Passos em Volta, Herberto Helder)

Urban Map

A very nice, small and short guide for restaurants, bars, shops, museums and art galleries in Geneva.

Apparently it has been around for a while. I found it the other day in Cabinet by chance.

(Actually the true story is a bit longer: I was having a drink at Cabinet, wasting some time before meeting some friends in a restaurant, when I noticed I was isolated in the middle of the room. I soon started to feel uncomfortable, standing there all by myself, holding my drink. The feeling increased enormously after the drink was finished. So, there I was, wandering what do you do with my hands - should I put them in my pockets ? maybe cross the arms ? or just let them hang along the body ? - when I saw these leaflets at a corner and thought: "here's my chance !". And I ran for it. It actually turned out to be a very good move because I brought home a bunch of ideas about interesting things to do in Geneva during the summer...)

Anyway, here is the website version of this Urban Map.

Concerts à l'aube

Cet été les Bains des Pâquis présentent la deuxième édition des «Aubes musicales». Du 19 juillet au 13 septembre, chaque jour de la semaine, concerts et spectacles sont prévus pour les courageux qui arrivent à être aux bains de Paquis à 6h le matin...

L'entrée est libre !

A minha varanda

(texto de: O Coxo)

Da minha varanda nunca se vê o mar. Puseram-me uma árvore mesmo em frente e a Suiça por baixo. Na árvore crescem gatos pardos à noite e melros ao amanhecer.

Às vezes ponho-me em bicos de pés. Outras vezes são andaimes que trazem todo o tipo de pessoas, como barcos. A minha varanda diz-se inclinada para os antípodas, debruçada sobre si mesma.

Lugar de contemplações circunscritas, a minha varanda nunca viu o mar. Mas de vez em quando um cheiro a maresia bate nas paredes e faz eco. Como nessas conchas em que pomos o ouvido.

No final, histórias de vizinhos reformados enquanto se põe a roupa a secar. A roupa salgadíssima. Os vizinhos insossos. O vento a chamar tempestade e a roupa de repente molhada outra vez.

Dir-se-ia as ondas de um mar que não se vê.

Quase Nada

Passo e amo e ardo.
Água ? Brisa ? Luz ?
Não sei. E tenho pressa:
Levo comigo uma criança
que nunca viu o mar.

(Eugénio de Andrade in "Mar de Setembro")

30 years of unknown pleasures

Unknown Pleasures was the first album of the post-punk band Joy Division's, released in 1979.

Joy Division pioneered the post-punk movement of the late 1970s. Post-punk laid the groundwork for alternative rock by broadening the range of punk and underground music, It found a firm place in the 1980s indie scene, and led to the development of genres such as gothic rock, industrial music and alternative rock.

In other words: post-punk movement basically exchanged Sex Pistols' message of "fuck you all", by a much more contemporary "we're all fucked anyway".

And the message still lives on.

Ulan Ude

I had to share with you this report from a friend travelling in Russia. He is presently in the Baikal lake region and some nights ago he had his share of experiences with drunken locals:

http://nextstop.anjo.com.pt/2009/07/one-of-strangest-nights-of-my-life.html

The surrealism of it all reminded me of a passage of the travel book "L'axe du Loup" from Sylvain Tesson: a french guy who walked from Siberia to India. We was trying to get to an island in the Baikal lake when he found a family that told him they had a boat:

"Je rencontre les membres d'une famille de pêcheurs couchés dans des herbes hautes, ivres morts. (...) La femme, les soeurs et la belle mère , grasses commes des outres à schnaps, nous accompagnent. Elles sont très ivres. (...) Sacha charge le moteur dans ses épaules et se coupe l'oreille avec l'hélice, ce qui le fait abondamment saigner. La barque promise est un canot de bois pourri. La mère embarque mais calcule mal son élan, traverse l'embarcation et plonge à l'eau de l'autre coté. (...) La pluie se met à tomber. La fille à pleurer. Le moteur ne part pas. Sacha saigne toujours. (...) Le retour est pathétique. Nous tombons en panne d'essence à deux quilómetres de la côte. Je souque comme un sourd pour ramener les trois ivrognes qui s'endorment au fond de la barque. Le soir tombe."

Adam's Apple

We talked about movies at lunch today and when discussing cinema from nordic countries I came up with this suggestion. I think I watched this film 2 or 3 years ago. Very funny.