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Lewis Carroll’s Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland, published online by Project Gutenberg 

Lewis Carroll’s Through the Looking Glass (And What AliceFound There), published online by Project Gutenberg 

Lewis Carroll’s Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland, with the original illustrations by Sir John Tenniel, ebook published by The University of Adelaide Library 

Lenny’s Alice in Wonderland site

Provérbios portugueses / Portuguese Sayings

Via Público - P3: «Que o português é "tricky", já o sabíamos. E que tal testar esta expressiva manha lexical na língua inglesa? Torna-se num passatempo hilariante, certamente, e começamos, quase inconscientemente, à espera que alguém duvide das nossas capacidades só para poder dizer "It's too many years turning chickens!" Ou, numa ocasião mais tempestuosa, vociferar "Go to the broad beans!" Numa altura em que tanto se fala da internacionalização dos produtos portugueses (e dos próprios portugueses), Luís Santos resolveu criar a página "Portuguese Sayings", que apresenta provérbios, expressões idiomáticas e frases já míticas (de Scolari a Hélio Imaginário) traduzidos para inglês. Será que "old donkey does not learn languages"? Em resumo: "It's good wave!"»

Benjamin Zephaniah

Terrible World

I've seen streets of blood
Redda than red
There waz no luv
Just bodies dead
And I think to myself
What a terrible world.

I've seen pimps and priests
Well interfused
Denying peace
To the kids they abuse
And I think to myself
What a terrible world.

The killer who's the hero
The rapist who's indoors
The trade in human cargo
And dead poets on tours
I've seen friends put in jail
For not being rich
And mass graves made
From a football pitch.

I've seen babies scream
Nobody cared
Civilians starve
Whilst troops are prepared
And I think to myself
What a terrible world
Yes I think to myself
What a terrible world.

I do love Louis Armstrong’s work but I thought I should walk the same road and see things from a different point of view.

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Saiba mais sobre Benjamin Zephaniah aqui

Fonte: Benjamin Zephaniah (1996). «Terrible World». In Propa Proganda. Newcastle upon Tyne: Bloodaxe. p. 13.

The Prairie

James Fenimore Cooper

The harvest of the first year of our possession had long been passed, and the fading foliage of a few scattered trees was, already, beginning to exhibit the hues and tints of autumn, when a train of wagons issued from the bed of a dry rivulet, to pursue its course across the undulating surface of what, in the language of the country of which we write, is called a “rolling Prairie.” The vehicles, loaded with household goods and implements of husbandry, the few straggling sheep and cattle that were herded in the rear, and the rugged appearance and careless mien of the sturdy men who loitered at the sides of the lingering teams, united to announce a band of emigrants seeking for the Eldorado of the West. Contrary to the usual practice of the men of their caste, this party had left the fertile bottoms of the low country, and had found its way, by means only known to such adventurers, across glen and torrent, over deep morasses and arid wastes, to a point far beyond the usual limits of civilized habitations. In their front were stretched those broad plains, which extend, with so little diversity of character, to the bases of the Rocky Mountains; and many long and dreary miles in their rear, foamed the swift and turbid waters of La Platte.

The appearance of such a train , in that bleak and solitary place, was rendered the more remarkable by the fact that the surrounding country offered so little that was tempting to the cupidity of speculation, and, if possible, still less that was flattering to the hopes of an ordinary settler of new lands.

The meager herbage of the Prairie promised nothing, in favor of a hard and unyielding soil, over which the wheels of the vehicles rattled as lightly as if they travelled on a beaten road; neither wagons nor beasts making any deeper impression, than to mark that bruised and withered grass, which the cattle plucked, from time to time, and as often rejected, as food too sour, for even hunger to render palatable.

Whatever might be the final destination of these adventurers, or the secret causes of their apparent security in so remote and unprotected a situation, there was no visible sign of uneasiness, uncertainty, or alarm among them. Including both sexes, and every age, the number of the party exceeded twenty.

James Fenimore Cooper (1992). The Prairie. Oxford: Oxford University Press. p. 11. First published in 1827.

The Life and Adventures of Robinson Crusoe

Daniel Defoe

THE JOURNAL

September 30, 1659. I, poor miserable Robinson Crusoe, being shipwrecked, during a dreadful storm, in the offing[1], came on shore on this dismal unfortunate island, which I called the Island of Despair, all the rest of the ship’s company being drowned, and my self almost dead.

All the rest of that day I spent in afflicting my self at the dismal circumstances I was brought to, viz. I had neither food, house, clothes, weapon, or place to fly to, and in despair of any relief, saw nothing but death before me, either that I should be devoured by wild beasts, murthered by savages, or starved to death for want of food. At the approach of night, I slept in a tree for fear of wild creatures, but slept soundly tho’ it rained all night.

October 1. In the morning I saw to my great surprise the ship had floated with the high tide, and was driven on shore again much nearer the island, which as it was some comfort on one hand, for seeing her sit upright, and not broken to pieces, I hoped, if the wind abated, I might get on board, and get some food and necessaries out of her for my relief; so on the other hand, it renewed my grief at the loss of my comrades, who I imagined if we had all stayed on board might have saved the ship, or at least that they would not have been all drowned as they were; and that had the men been saved, we might perhaps have built us a boat out of the ruins of the ship, to have carried us to some other part of the world. I spent great part of this day in perplexing my self on these things; but at length seeing the ship almost dry, I went upon the sand as near as I could, and then swam on board; this day also it continued raining, tho’ with no wind at all.

From the 1^st of October to the 24^th. All these days entirely spent in many several voyages to get all I could out of the ship, which I brought on shore, every tide of flood, upon rafts. Much rain also in these days, tho’ with some intervals of fair weather: but, it seems, this was the rainy season.

Oct. 20. I overset my raft and all the goods I had got upon it, but being in shoal water, and the things being chiefly heavy, I recovered many of them when the tide was out.

Oct. 25. It rained all night and all day, with some gusts of wind, during which time the ship broke in pieces, the wind blowing a little harder than before, and was no more to be seen, except the wreck of her, and that only at low water. I spent this day in covering and securing the goods which I had saved, that the rain might not spoil them.

Oct. 26. I walked about the shore almost all day to find out a place to fix my habitation, greatly concerned to secure my self, from an attack in the night, either from wild beasts or men. Towards night I fixed upon a proper place under a rock, and marked out a semi-circle for my encampment, which I resolved to strengthen with a work, wall, or fortification made of double piles, lined within with cables, and without with turf.

From the 26^th to the 30^th. I worked very hard in carrying all my goods to my new habitation, tho’ some part of the time it rained exceeding hard.

Daniel Defoe (1978). The Life and Adventures of Robinson Crusoe. Harmondsworth: Penguin Books. pp. 87-88. First published in 1719.

---

[1] Distant from the shore

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"He and His Man"
Nobel Lecture by J. M. Coetzee, Nobel Prize in Literature 2003, inspired by Robinson Crusoe

Notes from a Small Island

Bill Bryson

Bill Bryson (1995). Notes from a Small Island. London: Black Swan. pp. 109-110.

 

 

Viagem de Arthur Conan Doyle ao Árctico

“Em 1880, interrompeu os estudos em Medicina para embarcar num baleeiro. Dangerous Work: Diary of an Arctic Adventure, o registo dessa viagem, vai agora ser publicado. Sherlock Holmes ainda não existia.” (Publico, 24.08.2012, p.22)

Conan Doyle (terceiro a contar da esquerda) a bordo do baleeiro Hope.

Páginas do diário.

Imagens divulgadas no Público (24.08.2012) por cortesia da Biblioteca Britânica e do Conan Doyle Estate.

From Portugal, with Love

Laura Alves

Disponível em http://postcardsfromportugalwithlove.tumblr.com/

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Visite a Página Web de Shaun Tan e descubra outros mundos.

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Now travel to Malbork or just Outside the town of Malbork and take a look at a wide array of information on Italo Calvino (enough to keep you busy the whole summer).

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Porque as férias se aproximam, e porque as férias convidam ao ócio... e à leitura...

The Idler, a revista criada pelo britânico Tom Hodgkinson em 1993

Tom Hudgkinson on idleness (video)

Some essays from The Idler, by Samuel Johnson (1709-1784)

Bertrand Russell (1932). “In Praise of Idleness” (audio)

Bertrand Russell (1932). “In Praise of Idleness” – transcript

Excerpt: “In a world where no one is compelled to work more than four hours a day, […] teachers will not be exasperatedly struggling to teach by routine methods things which they learnt in their youth, which may, in the interval, have been proved to be untrue.”

And he finishes his reflection this way: “Modern methods of production have given us the possibility of ease and security for all; we have chosen, instead, to have overwork for some and starvation for others. Hitherto we have continued to be as energetic as we were before there were machines; in this we have been foolish, but there is no reason to go on being foolish forever.”

[this in 1932…]

Beirut 

Nantes | Take-Away Show

Beirut (2007). "Nantes". The Flying Club Cup.

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Página MySpace de Beirut

Ler mais sobre este Take Away show aqui

REAL EYES

REALIZE

REAL LIES

anónimo (2012). Gravado numa parede de Lisboa

June 2001: Reality-TV

I’ve managed to miss out on reality-TV until now. In spite of all the talk in Britain about nasty Nick and flighty Mel, or, in America, about the fat, naked bastard Richard manipulating his way to desert-island victory, I have somehow preserved my purity. I wouldn’t recognize Nick or Mel if I passed them in the street, or Richard if he were standing in front of me unclothed.

Ask me where the Big Brother house is, or how to reach Temptation Island, and I have no answer. I do remember the American Survivor contestant who managed to fry his own hand so that the skin peeled away until his fingers looked like burst sausages, but that’s because he got on the main evening news. Otherwise, search me. Who won? Who lost? Who cares?

The subject of reality-TV shows, however, has been impossible to avoid. Their success is the media story of the (new) century, along with the ratings triumph of the big-money game shows like Millionaire. Success on this scale insists on being examined, because it tells us things about ourselves; or ought to.

And what tawdry narcissism is here revealed! The television set, once so idealistic thought of as our window on the world, has become a dime-store mirror instead. Who needs images of the world’s rich otherness, when you can watch these half-familiar avatars of yourself – these half-attractive half-persons – enacting ordinary life under weird conditions? Who needs talent, when the unashamed self-display of the talentless is constantly on offer?

[…]

‘Famous’ and ‘rich’ are now the two most important concepts in Western society, and ethical questions are simply obliterated by the potency of their appeal. To be famous and rich, it’s ok – it’s actually ‘good’ – to be devious. It’s ‘good’ to be exhibitionistic. It’s ‘good’ to be bad. And what dulls the moral edge is boredom. It’s impossible to maintain a sense of outrage about people being so trivially self-serving for so long.

Oh, the dullness! Here are people becoming famous for being asleep, for keeping a fire alight, for letting a fire go out, for videotaping their clichéd thoughts, for flashing their breasts, for lounging around, for quarrelling, for bitching, for being unpopular, and (this is too interesting to happen often) for kissing! Here, in short, are people becoming famous for doing nothing much at all, but doing it where everyone can see.

Add the contestants’ exhibitionism to the viewers’ voyeurism and you get a picture of a society sickly thrall to what Saul Bellow called ‘event glamour’. Such is the glamour of these banal but brilliantly spotlit events that anything resembling a real value – modesty, decency, intelligence, humour, selflessness, you can write your own list – is rendered redundant. In this inverted ethical universe, worse is better. The show presents ‘reality’ as a prize fight, and suggests that in life, as on TV, anything goes, and the more deliciously contemptible it is, the more we’ll like it. Winning isn’t everything, as Charlie Brown once said, but losing isn’t anything.

[…]

By the end of Orwell’s great novel Nineteen Eighty-Four, Winston Smith has been brainwashed. ‘He loved Big Brother’. As, now, do we.

Salman Rushdie (2003). Step Across this Line: Collected Non-Fiction 1992-2002. London: Vintage. pp. 378-380.

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Watch A Conversation with Salman Rushdie, hosted by Patty Satalia of the Penn State Public Broadcasting (Source: Google videos)

Noam Chomsky

Imperial Ambitions: Conversations with Noam Chomsky on the Post-9/11 World

Interviews with David Barsamian

[David Barsamian) Your office here in a new building at MIT is opposite another new one that’s called the Center for Learning and Memory. One can only speculate as to what goes on there. But I’d like you to talk about memory and knowledge of history as a tool of resistance to propaganda.

[Noam Chomsky] It was well understood, long before George Orwell, that memory must be repressed. Not only memory but consciousness of what’s happening right in front of you must be repressed, because if the public comes to understand what’s being done in its name, it probably won’t permit it. That’s the main reason for propaganda. Otherwise there is no point in it. Why not just tell the truth? It’s easier to tell the truth than to lie. You don’t get caught. You don’t have to put any effort into it. But power systems never tell the truth, if they can get away with it, because they simply don’t trust the public.

On May 27, the New York Times ran an article about the interchanges between Henry Kissinger and Richard Nixon that included one of the most incredible sentences I’ve ever read. Kissinger fought very hard through the courts to try to prevent the transcripts from being released, but the courts permitted it. You read through them, and you find that at one point Nixon informed Kissinger that he wanted to launch a major assault on Cambodia under the pretense of airlifting supplies. He said, “I want them to hit everything.” And Kissinger transmitted the order to the Pentagon to carry out a “massive bombing campaign in Cambodia. Anything that flies on anything that moves.” That is the most explicit call for what we call genocide when other people do it that I’ve ever seen in the historical record.

Right at this moment, Slobodan Milošević, the former president of Yugoslavia, is on trial, and prosecutors are somewhat hampered because they can’t find direct orders linking Milošević to major atrocities on the ground in Bosnia. Suppose they found a statement from Milošević saying, “Hit everything. Anything that flies on anything that moves.” The trial would be over. Milošević would be sent away for multiple life sentences. But they can’t find any such document.

Was there any reaction to the Nixon-Kissinger transcripts? Did anybody notice it? Actually, I’ve brought this comment up in a number of talks, and I’ve noticed that people don’t’ seem to understand it. They might understand it the minute I say it, but not five minutes later, because it’s just too unacceptable. We cannot be people who openly and publicly call for genocide and then carry it out. That can’t be. So therefore it didn’t happen. And therefore it doesn’t even have to be wiped out of history, because it will never enter history.

David Barsamian (2006). Noam Chomsky – Imperial Ambitions: Conversations with Noam Chomsky on the Post-9/11 World. London: Penguin Books. pp. 99-101. First published in 2005.

Páginas Paralelas:

Chomsky.Info - The Noam Chomsky Website: bios, interviews, talks, letters, audio & video, and much more

Playing with music!
Somebody That I Used to Know, by Walk off the Earth


... and a parody
by The Key of Awesome

Roy Lichtenstein. "Drowning Girl" (1963)

Roy Lichtenstein (1963). "Drowning Girl". Nova Iorque: Museum of Modern Art.