Human for Sale!
No time to die…, so I might as well live.
Resumé
By Dorothy Parker
Razors pain you;
Rivers are damp;
Acids stain you;
And drugs cause cramp.
Guns aren’t lawful;
Nooses give;
Gas smells awful;
You might as well live.
Power has driven him mad. Or not?
Uma coisa interessante das capas da New Yorker é que elas sempre passam a impressão que a cidade é um cenário. Bom ou ruim, um cenário. O foco são as histórias das pessoas. O Rio de Janeiro, por outro lado, não é um cenário. É um antagonista.
80’s royalty.
My favorite sport.
“Oh, beware of the puritans of the 1930s, I mean, the 2030s”.
Serve para as demais redes sociais.
Indeed.
Kinds of (un)Kindness
Pra se planejar, melhor saber…
Week-end for all tastes.
Is society healthy, that an individual should return to it? Has not society itself helped to make the individual unhealthy? Of course, the unhealthy must be made healthy, that goes without saying; but why should the individual adjust himself to an unhealthy society? If he is healthy, he will not be a part of it. Without first questioning the health of society, what is the good of helping misfits to conform to society?(…)To help the individual to fit into a society which is ever at war with itself – is this what psychologists and analysts are supposed to do? Is the individual to be healed only in order to kill or be killed? If one is not killed, or driven insane, then must one only fit into the structure of hate, envy, ambition and superstition which can be very scientific? - Krishnamurti
Henry Miller’s Rules.
Essa, é pra quem soma no groove
É pra quem faz a sua microparte pra que alguma microcoisa no mundo mude
Em qualquer lugar ou dia da semana
Quem conhece não se engana
Eu disse essa é pra quem sabe
Que a diferença entre uma festa de bacana e uma festa bacana
Não é mero detalhe
Uma das melhores e mais subestimadas personagens da dramaturgia mundial é a Sonya de Tio Vanya.
SONYA: What can we do? We must live out our lives. [A pause] Yes, we shall live, Uncle Vanya. We shall live all through the endless procession of days ahead of us, and through the long evenings. We shall bear patiently the burdens that fate imposes on us. We shall work without rest for others, both now and when we are old. And when our final hour comes, we shall meet it humbly, and there beyond the grave, we shall say that we have known suffering and tears, that our life was bitter. And God will pity us. Ah, then, dear, dear Uncle, we shall enter on a bright and beautiful life. We shall rejoice and look back upon our grief here. A tender smile – and – we shall rest. I have faith, Uncle, fervent, passionate faith. We shall rest. We shall rest. We shall hear the angels. We shall see heaven shining like a jewel. We shall see evil and all our pain disappear in the great pity that shall enfold the world. Our life will be as peaceful and gentle and sweet as a caress. I have faith; I have faith. [Wiping away her tears] My poor, poor Uncle Vanya, you are crying! [Weeping] You have never known what it is to be happy, but wait, Uncle Vanya, wait! We shall rest. We shall rest. We shall rest.
Rules to write by.
They live. We sleep
Writing
