NETOS

NETOS

JOÃO - MARIA ANA - PEDRO

JOÃO - MARIA ANA - PEDRO

REMARKABLE PEOPLE



FERNANDO PESSOA

(Lisboa, 1888 - 1935, Lisboa)


"Não sou nada.
Nunca serei nada.
Não posso querer ser nada.
À parte isso, tenho em mim todos os sonhos do mundo.


************
"I am nothing.
I will never be anything.
I cannot want to be anything.
Apart from that, I have in me all the dreams in the world."

or...

"I am not nothing.
I will never be nothing.
I cannot want to be nothing.
Apart from that, I have in me all the dreams in the world."


(Álvaro de Campos in "Tabacaria")




LISBOA - Chiado

LISBOA - Chiado
"Fernando Pessoa" by Lagoa Henriques. The place: "Café A Brasileira" (Brazilian Café) - 1905.

PLAYLIST TODAY




MUSIC IS THE PASSION REPORT



♥ ♥ ♥


PLAYING SOFTLY WHILE SOMEONE SANG THE BLUES



Saturday, Jul 22, 2017 - 17:57





SALVADOR SOBRAL - NEM EU [DORIVAL CAYMMI]



YouTube – "Salvador Sobral"





ANTONY HEGARTY + LEONARD COHEN - IF IT BE YOUR WILL [COHEN]



YouTube – "Oggmonster"





CHAN MARSHALL (CAT POWER) - I'VE BEEN LOVING YOU TOO LONG [OTIS REDDING]



YouTube – "anaruido"





JANIS JOPLIN - ME & BOBBY MCGEE [CHRIS CHRISTOPHERSON]



YouTube – "ThE DuCk"





JEFF BUCKLEY - LILAC WINE [JAMES SHELTON]



YouTube – " roberta panzeri"





DAVID BOWIE - WILD IS THE WIND [JOHNNY MATHIS]



YouTube – "Peter Music HD"







_____________________


LEANING INTO THE AFTERNOONS by PABLO NERUDA

«Inclinado en las Tardes»



YouTube - "FourSeasons Productions"






CHANGING BATTERIES - OSCAR WINNING ANIMATED SHORT FILM



YouTube - "Bzzz Day"





DIALA BRISLY - A BEAUTIFUL YOUNG LADY

(a huge thanks to my daughter who e-mailed this video to me)



BBC Newsnight

«Syria is devastated by five years of war - and it's taken a huge toll on the country's children. Here's one woman - artist Diala Brisly - who is trying to make life that little bit more bearable for Syria's kids.»

Syria is devastated by five years of war - and it's taken a huge toll on the country's children. Here's one woman -...

Publicado por BBC Newsnight em Domingo, 20 de Março de 2016






A JOURNEY BACK TO ENDEARMENT

A JOURNEY BACK TO ENDEARMENT



FLYING A SECRET



I got here to hide. From equations and patterns. From repetition, after all.
Closed the door and got me a special place where I thought I could
somehow sit close to the stars. But I soon found out that the sky was
still opaque, no matter what the steps. And so I left. Again.

I thought, then, I could build me a different ceiling, a new-coloured scrap
of highness. And then make it work. Where I could dream, more than I sleep.
I have long decided that sleeping is overrated - that I know for sure. So I
take that time instead to travel the night alone and in the meantime I allow
myself to fly, unlike stated before... Yes, I like playing with paradox, to
expose the inside of words and the revelation of writing down the voice of a
silence. My adventurous, ever-walking silence.

So I came back. Here, within this quiet world, I intend to gather all my
things usually kept hidden or inactive. They are here to speak.

And since the future is a stand-by secret, I want to live by a precocious
clock, at every running instant of every entering second.

And I will not slow down until my "future exists now" - kind of reverse
quoting Jacob Bronowski.


Ana Vassalo
in my site "CAFEÍNA"(former "No Flying Allowed")
Nov 11, 2010 - 11:54




THE WALK OF TIME

THE WALK OF TIME

sábado, 24 de agosto de 2013

OH TENDER SWEET GENERATION OF MINE...




Pop Five Music Incorporated
one of the portuguese bands at the festival’s 1st edition.

 

Oh tender sweet Generation of mine...

My oh my, we’re still here!... And I’m 56 now. Older, hopefully wiser - though not granted. Still can’t figure out how and where this is my world. But I’m getting there, restlessly chasing the answers. Can’t stop at all.

Let me tell you how I grew up: censorship, forbidden books, movies and records, even comics books, forbidden words, conversations and “groups” of more than one person walking on the street or else it could be considered a “gathering”, a riot attempt; and friends getting arrested before my very eyes: some getting wounded, some killed, the rest of us reaching today, free and alive, because a certain, special month of April once happened around here.

My friends used to joke about my luck saying I had a revolutionary angel watching over me. I was the lucky one, indeed, and only because I was too young, just a child in ‘their’ own words, which did not protect me from getting expelled twice from the bus, by ‘them’, with a guy grabbing me by the arm since I refused to get out, and also deprived from my (forbidden) books while coercively being “sent home” with a final and threatening warning. No news, since I had already been expelled before from my first High School, after 4 years there. I was 14 then... Yep, it happens. Couldn’t care less - I was a child indeed. Never mind.

Even so, all this being said, someone, somehow always managed to get the latest news into the country, which survived for about 1 week before censors got alerted - by a crew of informers ‘mingling’ with the crowd everywhere - and act on it.

Music was the messenger and it all started when I was just a kid, at 8 (see Dylan), 10 (Hair), 12 (Marmalade), and obsessively listened to the radio, my greatest companion in a recent solitude caused by my parents divorce. But also had those older cousins that got me fully updated. They used to borrow my small Sony tape recorder (small was a huge innovation at the time, ok?) my father had bought in Cape Verde when we were living in Africa (Guinea-Bissau) in order to have their favorite hits recorded. So, when returning that heck of a machine to me everything was right there for me too and I got to know them all! Truth is I couldn’t understand a word ‘till I was 12, but some songs just moved me so much that they stayed with me until this very day.

Vietnam & Flower Power: these were the 60’s and they hit us here in force during the 70’s. No wonder then that mine is a totally messed up generation: drugs took most of my best friends and schoolmates. I was the only one sober among them but clearly remember no one ever bothered me for that. I did try it later, some minor stuff, for 2 weeks, just hoping to understand my (ex)husband’s ways: it was an experience indeed but unable to convince me it was better than my mind’s independence, which means freedom, my most powerful drug.

Well, the thing is that early too soon the mess began: I was 17 when Manel died, at 15, just cause he wanted so much to fly and heroin convinced him he really could... He was my best friend and protector since I was 14... (and yes I’m smiling right now). Then, Luis, at 20, when I was 18. We were starting a band, had already auditioned to a record company. All vanished suddenly so I just gave it up right there, all accounting to nothing but terrible memories, I simply didn’t want to go on. Lately he had decided to create his own sound, so he had very recently composed a song, a beautiful homage to the revolution, which we sang at his funeral. And life went on, anyway. The last one I heard about, Zé S., passed away at 38.

But many, many more disappeared. When I met Manel he had 8 or 9 brothers and sisters left from an initial total of 14 kids, for some had already died. They came from an upper-class family, were very popular and incredible good friends, smart, tender, generous people.

But they were all crazy too. And all amazingly beautiful! People used to say Manel looked like a young Jesus Christ. I knew his brother Pedro first, who was older than us, and later moved to Amsterdam; then Tozé, the oldest one alive, who became an icon on account of a poster someone made of him at The Vilar de Mouros Music Festival: that was indeed a great picture, showing him playing the flute, with his long, long beautiful hair, sitting on the floor with his legs crossed and wearing a long, foot-length white roman tunic, and leading everyone to believe that it was Ian Anderson from Jethro Tull in the photo; and finally, Antónia: our faces looked so much alike that no one at a first approach ever knew for sure who was who. So here’s to it: these are Manel’s brothers and sister I knew who died shortly (3, 4 years) after him, plus one I didn’t know.

And yet all we wanted in life was to be damn freakin’ happy! An impossible mission since we had our own war going on in Africa and our beloved ones kept dying on us. We were all so young, just trying hard to forget and move on. And so we did. On and on. Loving and playing music for fun, “devouring” resistance literature and poetry, laughing insanely with Quino’s sweet revolutionary comics books “Mafalda” (also forbidden), getting active in all sorts of political confrontation and believing in a fantastic, liberating future.

Well, Yes!, we finally had our day in April 25, ‘74. Our own, special ‘D’ Day, the dawn of all possible Dreams. And we were in fact chasing the dream for a while.

All gone now.

Happiness remains on hold while ‘belief’ is still the word. But we got some deep wounds we keep trying to heal. Yes we look like normal people, well fitted in, some of us even went back to school and finished college while already working, made our paths, got our good jobs, married and had our children, earned our good money... and spent it all by the minute. That’s who we are. But despite all that we somehow managed to keep our better, child’s soul. Haven’t lost it in the way, not yet.

Some great songs remain from those times, when mother hope was the key.

Let me lend you some of them. These are special to me ‘cause they’ve always made me cry. And still do.

So, treat them gently for they own a powerful history of the contemporary world.
 


BOB DYLAN + KEITH RICHARDS + RON WOOD – BLOWING IN THE WIND
introduced by JACK NICHOLSON
 
This is my song - even sang it in a Company's Christmas dinner, a huge success! ;)

in YouTube - "SuperVoyager2011"
 

HAIR – LET THE SUNSHINE IN
 
I absolutely love this song and this video, they're so powerful, specially at the end!
 
in YouTube - "suavis"

 
THE MARMALADE – REFLECTIONS OF MY LIFE
 
This might as well be a video for the Portuguese war in Africa, only the music would be different...
 
 
 
in YouTube - "Sean Dolan "



Ana Vassalo
Aug 24, 2013 - 08:56


quinta-feira, 22 de agosto de 2013

LADRÕES DE ESTRELAS




Window to the Sky, by James Li - in flickr.


[Porque há pessoas especiais.
 
Há a família. Total e herdada. 
Tempo andado, que vê mais longe, escolhemos por dentro dela apenas a que reconhecemos. E então, sabemos: família é a que entrou no coração. Que cresce depois, ou não, quando a ela se juntam, mais tarde, os que vêm agarrados quando os nossos filhos voam.
A minha, que era já grande, ficou mais alta. E é nela que sou feliz.]

in facebook, 22-Ago-2013 - 01:35:

Para a Bi, com um beijo grato. Parabéns, minha querida. Um dia lindo para si, com todos os nossos queridos. ♥



ladrões de estrelas

amor é água de rios
que conhecem o regaço
desde o berço ao fim dos tempos.
tem mãos brancas de criança
e olhos rasgados no longe
que guarda mais entender.

é o coração mais largo,
bate virado a nascente
e abre a janela de mundo
que sabe o canto dos pássaros
pelo caminho dos ventos
a correr por cais de abrigo.

amor é rosto de alguns
que traçam rotas no céu
e vão depois tocar a estrela
que desprendem de mansinho
para acender por alguém
que em terra sonha com a luz.
 
(AV)
 
 
[E por fim, inevitavelmente, a música: esta.
Porque gostamos.
Porque há sorrisos com força tamanha, que pedem contas ao frio dos mundos...]
 
 
JOSH GROBAN & THE AFRICAN CHILDREN CHOIR – YOU RAISE ME UP
 
 
in YouTube, "Boon Ming Ng"
 
 
Ana Vassalo

22-Ago-2013 –  13:22
 

segunda-feira, 19 de agosto de 2013

vontade






o gosto estéril da morte adiada 
sobe aos lábios o toque em sombras
de um resto de vida gasta de oceanos  
 
desidrato do sonho
aridez da terra
deserto de cinzas no beijo dos ventos
 
e no entanto
o pó aprende
e segue por aí
toda a memória dos caminhos de água.
 
e continua
nos dias feitos de sede
correndo pela chuva que um dia será.
 
até ao rebate dos sinos
há-de ser continuação.
 
num gosto ardido de lábios gretados
provando o sol que habita a sombra.
 
numa teimosia de mares.
 
 
 
Ana Vassalo
19-Ago-2013 - 19:18

sábado, 3 de agosto de 2013

vento






Mistral, by Henry Asencio
 
 
vento
 
e de repente rasgam-se cordas nas Eras
os nãos mastigados
a hora incerta de morrer a vida
o pasmo das ausências
o catálogo e a forma
o modelo em fábrica
nas avenidas globais.
e o dia acontece Vivo
no lugar mais perto de dizer Sou
espasmo e desassossego
das âncoras derrotadas no lugar da espera
a fome a sede e a poesia
o arranhão a sorte o chão
a resistência sem rendição
um aperto de garra uma calçada cega
a venda protectora de embargos
a rima que vive à espreita
a fuga dos nós mais densos
incoerências de acerto
de repente
como que de repente.
e nasce um tempo novo de rumos
as rotas todas possíveis
o bravo passo em ensaio de risco
um barco uma asa e o grito
a enseada sob a escarpa
os olhos da paz em mira
no mais alto pedaço liberto da encosta
o espaço apagado entre ti e entre mim
um nós arrancado ao caminho
o silêncio do beijo solto
da promessa já antiga
as mãos que alcançam
o inverno que se toma
a casa a casa a casa
e o fogo que canta e o cigarro e a música
o café das entrelinhas
um gin de entregas caladas
o chá dos armistícios
o livro da existência aberto nos olhos
que se esconde na pele e parte e flutua
no inconhecido que se agarra
e de repente quase sempre de repente
o olhar que se desperta.
num instante que se sonhou
a cabeça que se volta
retendo um segundo de mundo
que mira atrás em saída
com o adeus mais vasto dos mares perdidos
navegando pelas estrelas
adeus meu amor...
um adeus de sempre e de repente
de repente o grande nada
que retém o ar partilhado
a saudade lancinante do futuro
até sempre como nunca como já
de repente nós
e o sal da chuva que bebemos
um dia
outro dia
nas pausas furtivas da noite
que nos juntou
e a vida é de repente
um sopro que se agarra
e grava o corpo de eternidade
sem nome

olha, o sol já se pôs, vês?
dorme, amor, dorme o meu colo de abismos
de repente já de repente
com a pressa dos milénios que hão-de ser
dorme o céu que se aconchega
na luz que a tua mão acende
logo depois dos abraços


dizer nós
ah... dizer nós
é dizer eu e dizer tu
de repente aqui
como verdade

de repente além
como finais



Ana Vassalo
03-Ago-2013 – 18:14