In Absense

Here is a poem from my friend Jill


That which was once so vivid and intense,
I swam in its energy,
in its enveloping all-encompassing mania

hijacked by a connection which transcends my defenses
ignited my mind until smoke clouded sanity with a high
penetrated my being, reaching the untouched, the unknown
sparking a sensation in the deepest of my darkness
so that my blood surged with new vigor for life
my heart felt everything around me with new delicacy
every nerve from my skin aroused by the slightest...sensation
in its spirit
which danced with mine in a very solitary dimension
in its body
which danced with mine in a very earthly dimension
evoking the nature that I am
in the trance of warm brown eyes
in its simplicity
cherishing the good, rejecting the confining, ailing, and trivial

is now but a memory of a dream
a few muted glimpses of brilliance
distant in my mind
I find myself searching for reality in the haze
in the shadow between my consciousness and reality
I speak of it as fact
yet as I hear my words, they feel unfamiliar to my mind
All I really know is each moment
and the few moments which wander into my consciousness as reminders of the unexplainable

Ben Harper

THE DRUGS DON'T WORK (Richard Ashcroft) Live From Mars, 2001

All this talk of getting old
It's getting me down my love
Like a cat in a bag waiting to drown
This time I'm comin' down
And I know you're thinking of me
As you lay down on your side

Now the drugs don't work
They just make you worse
But I know I'll see your face again
Now the drugs don't work
They just make you worse
But I know I'll see your face again

But I know I'm on a losing streak
'Cause I passed down by old street
And if you wanna show, just let me know
And I'll sing in your ear again

Now the drugs don't work
They just make you worse
But I know I'll see your face again

So baby, Woh- if heaven calls, I'm coming too
Just like you said you leave my life, I'm better off dead

All this talk of getting old
It's getting me down my love
Like a cat in a bag, waiting to drown
This time I'm comin' down

The drugs don't work
They just make you worse
But I know I'll see your face again

So baby, Woh- if heaven calls, I'm coming too
And like you said, you leave my life, I'm better off dead

But if you wanna show, just let me know
And now I'll sing in your ear again

Now the drugs don't work
They just make you worse
But now I know I'll see your face again
Yeah- I know I'll see your face again
Yeah- I know I'll see your face again
Oh- now
Yeah, I know I'll see your face again
Never coming down, Never coming down
No more, no more, no more, no more, no more, no more
Never coming down, never coming down
No more, no more, no more, no more, no more
Oh- now
Yeah, I know I'll see your face again

e e cummings

me encanta....a vida.
VII

in the rain-
darkness, the sunset
being sheathed i sit and
think of you

the holy
city which is your face
your little cheeks the streets
of smiles

your eyes half-
thrush
half-angel and your drowsy
lips where float flowers of kiss

and
there is the sweet shy pirouette
your hair
and then

your dancesong
soul. rarely-beloved
a single start is
uttered, and i

think
of you

Inverno

Photo taken by Wind
Happy Birthday, my friend.
Wind.


se no encontro do inverno
na saturação conhecida
morra o desespero
no escuro do silêncio
no tremor das tuas mãos
no descuido do meu peito
uma alma vencida
um coração apertado
lágrimas unidas
achadas por ti...

Susana Pestana

Musica da LURA

You can read more about this wonderful Portuguese/Cabo Verdean singer
http://www.caboverde.com/music/lura-e.htm

Heads made by the Sculptor "Wind"

Little trip to heaven, Tom Waits

(Click on the link above to listening to this sweet song)You must remember Wind. I will post some of your wonderful photos soon. Um beijo para ti e para todos.
Little trip to heaven on the wings of your love
Banana moon is shining in the sky
I feel like I'm in heaven when your with me
I know that I'm in heaven when you smile
Though were stuck here on the ground
I got something that I've found, and it's you

I don't need to take no trip to outer space
All I have to do is look in your face
And before I know it I'm in orbit around you
Thanking my lucky stars that I found you
When I see your constellation, your my inspiration
And it's you

Your my North Star when I'm lost and feeling blue
Your my sun that's breaking through, it's true
And all the other stars seem dim around you
I thank my lucky stars that I found you
When I see your smilin face
I know nothing' gonna take your place
And it's you, and it's you, and it's you,
and it's you, and it's you, and it's you

Stay Away From Me Cos I'm In My Sin...Nina Simone

Again.. Miss Nina Simone. This is a live version I run into the other day."Gin House Blues". Owesome version. ( click on the link above to listening to the song)

Gin House Blues
Stay away from me cos i'm in my sin
Stay away from me everybody cos i'm in my sin
If this joint is raided somebody give my gin
Don't try me nobody cos you will never win
Mm yeah don't try me nobody cos you will never win
I'll fight the army and navy somebody gives me my gin
When i'm feeling high i don't have nothing to do
Oh when i'm feeling high i don't have nothing to do
Just fill me full of good liquor i'll sure be nice to you
Any bootlegger show him a pal of mine any old time
Any bootlegger show him a pal of mine
Cos a good bottle of gin will get it everytime

Lord i don't want no clothes
I don't even want no bed to lay my head
I don't want no clothes
I don't event want no bed to lay my head
I don't want no pork chops and green
Just give me gin instead


Oh oh stay away from me cos i'm in my sin
Oh oh stay away from me yeah everybody cos i'm in my sin
If this joint is raided somebody give me my gin
Somebody give me my gin

Pessoa

"Sobre a nudez forte da verdade o manto diafano da fantasia"

Fernando Pessoa

It's Closing Time

Once again the wise words of the master- Leonard Cohen " It's Closing time". (To listening to the song , you need to click on the title above "It's Closing Time").
It is closing time......
Boa noite
Susana

Ah we're drinking and we're dancing
and the band is really happening
and the Johnny Walker wisdom running high
And my very sweet companion
she's the Angel of Compassion
she's rubbing half the world against her thigh
And every drinker every dancer
lifts a happy face to thank her
the fiddler fiddles something so sublime
all the women tear their blouses off
and the men they dance on the polka-dots
and it's partner found, it's partner lost
and it's hell to pay when the fiddler stops:
it's CLOSING TIME
Yeah the women tear their blouses off
and the men they dance on the polka-dots
and it's partner found, it's partner lost
and it's hell to pay when the fiddler stops:
it's CLOSING TIME

Ah we're lonely, we're romantic
and the cider's laced with acid
and the Holy Spirit's crying, "Where's the beef?"
And the moon is swimming naked
and the summer night is fragrant
with a mighty expectation of relief
So we struggle and we stagger
down the snakes and up the ladder
to the tower where the blessed hours chime
and I swear it happened just like this:
a sigh, a cry, a hungry kiss
the Gates of Love they budged an inch
I can't say much has happened since
but CLOSING TIME

I swear it happened just like this:
a sigh, a cry, a hungry kiss
the Gates of Love they budged an inch
I can't say much has happened since
CLOSING TIME

I loved you for your beauty
but that doesn't make a fool of me:
you were in it for your beauty too
and I loved you for your body
there's a voice that sounds like God to me
declaring, declaring, declaring that your body's really you
And I loved you when our love was blessed
and I love you now there's nothing left
but sorrow and a sense of overtime
and I missed you since the place got wrecked
And I just don't care what happens next
looks like freedom but it feels like death
it's something in between, I guess
it's CLOSING TIME

Yeah I missed you since the place got wrecked
By the winds of change and the weeds of sex
looks like freedom but it feels like death
it's something in between, I guess
it's CLOSING TIME

Yeah we're drinking and we're dancing
but there's nothing really happening
and the place is dead as Heaven on a Saturday night
And my very close companion
gets me fumbling gets me laughing
she's a hundred but she's wearing
something tight
and I lift my glass to the Awful Truth
which you can't reveal to the Ears of Youth
except to say it isn't worth a dime
And the whole damn place goes crazy twice
and it's once for the devil and once for Christ
but the Boss don't like these dizzy heights
we're busted in the blinding lights,
busted in the blinding lights
of CLOSING TIME

The whole damn place goes crazy twice
and it's once for the devil and once for Christ
but the Boss don't like these dizzy heights
we're busted in the blinding lights,
busted in the blinding lights
of CLOSING TIME

Oh the women tear their blouses off
and the men they dance on the polka-dots
It's CLOSING TIME
And it's partner found, it's partner lost
and it's hell to pay when the fiddler stops
It's CLOSING TIME
I swear it happened just like this:
a sigh, a cry, a hungry kiss
It's CLOSING TIME
The Gates of Love they budged an inch
I can't say much has happened since
But CLOSING TIME
I loved you when our love was blessed
I love you now there's nothing left
But CLOSING TIME
I miss you since the place got wrecked
By the winds of change and the weeds of sex.

"A sad fix for a minor poet to be in!"

Here is a poem by Fernando Pessoa(Alvaro Campos).
Today, I also have a terrible cold....and I am a minor poet. My psychopathology class does not let me sleep and my body is getting weak. My DSM-IV-TR is a heavy book of mental disorders and on my back. Beautiful stuff, nonetheless. Granted I may lose myself later on when making diagnoses and assessements of real cases.
Nina(the dog) is the only one who keeps me straight in the world of the mental disorders. She is a good dog with many friends.
I will drink water and take care of this cold.
Ate amanha
Susana

Today have a terrible cold.
And everyone knows how terrible colds
Change the whole structure of the universe,
Making us sore at life,
Making us sneeze till we get metaphysical.
My day is wasted, full of blowing my nose,
My head aches vaguely.
A sad fix for a minor poet to be in!
Today I'm really a minor poet.
Whatever I was before was only wishful, and that's gone.
Fairy queen, good-bye, good-bye forever!
Your wings were sunbeams, and my feet are clay.
I'll never be well if I don't stretch out in bed.
I never was well unless if was stretched out across the
universe.
excuses un peu... What a terrible physical cold!
I need some truth and aspirin.
(1931)
Alvaro de Campos Poetry from �Poems of Fernando Pessoa�

(Wading Through) The Waters Of My Time

Hello friends,
I know it is been sometime since you last heard from me. I've been occupy with matters of great importance. Here is a SUPERB cd.You all have to buy it. The name of this guy like I mentioned before is Richard Hawley and the cd its called is "Coles Corner". Let me post a sample of one of the songs called "(Wading Through) The Waters Of My Time". You can click on the link above and listen to the song. He reminds me of another famous singer..can you tell me who?
This song is different from the rest of the songs in the cd but his voice and all of the other songs are great.

Beijos
Susana


(Wading Through) The Waters Of My Time
Don't look for me in fields of clover
I won't be there I won't get older
I must wait here holed up in my time
Don't search for me in fields of green
I'm not there I won't be seen
I'm wading through the waters of my time
I'm wading through the waters of my time
Don't look for me in lands of gold
I won't be there I won't get old
I'll hover like a frozen bird in time
Don't reach for me the stars are cold
My race is run my stories told
I'm wading through the waters of my time
Don't search for me in lands of gold
I won't be there I can't get old
Don't hope for me the stars have died
I've slipped into the past
Cos I'm wading through the waters of my time
Yes I'm wading through the waters of my time
Don't search for me in lands of gold
I won't be there I can't get old
Don't hope for me the stars have died
I've slipped into the past
Cos I'm wading through the waters of my time
Yes I'm wading through the waters of my time
mmmmmmmmmmm mmmmmmmmmmm
Yes I'm wading through the waters of my time.

Richard Hawley- The Ocean

Wind-Thanks for showing me----the way to the Ocean- soon..


Here is also a review of the song and great album by Richard Hawley. Click on the link above that says "richard Hwley-The ocean"
Susana


"He may not be posh but Richard Hawley can be grand. The first single from forthcoming album Coles Corner is a rather splendid piece of lush romanticism. The five-minute-plus album version has been cut down for single duty, and given a crashing intro instead of the gentle, gradual build of the former.

But the body remains a lovely vehicle for Richard Hawley's velvety voice, part growl, part croon. "You lead me down by the ocean / the world is fine by the ocean / you know this time's for real / it helps the heart to heal..." And this being a love song (and apparently an autobiographical one at that), there's not much doubt what the pair are getting up to down by the ocean, even without the climax - orchestral and presumably otherwise as well - of "Here comes the wave..."

Other songs on Coles Corner may prove more interesting in the long run, but The Ocean - and the move to Mute - will serve well to introduce a new audience to Hawley's relaxed, retro classic sound. The 7" version includes Kelham Island, an orchestral track highlighting the lap steel and Hawaiian guitar sounds of so many of Hawley's songs. "



- Helen Wright

Porque amo futebol....PORTUGAL

Photo of Nuno Gomez. After scoring the goal that put Portugal in the World Cup. It will be in Germany, this summer 2006.

The road trip with Miss Nina ( the dog) was very good. Saw along the way some coyotes, and deer. It was nice to be close to nature and in the middle of nowhere. It is a always a good sign that you are far away from civilization, when cell phones do not workIt was a goodtrip for the soul.

Portugal national team qualify for the world cup.(soccer).Angola also qualify for the first time. Life is good, when my two countries qualify for the world cup.


The only disappointment was:
My team -the New York Yankees, lost. It is was a sad night. After watching their last games and still had hopes.

Fisherman's Blue-Waterboys

Fishermen's blue- Waterboys.
One of the greated albuns every made- Here is song about finding...one of my favorities songs ever.


(Check the link above to listening to the song)
Miss Nina Simone( The dog) and I are taking a long road trip and will return Monday. I will leave this city like the fisherman's blue-and leave you with this great song.-fisherman's Blue
Um besito
Susana and Mizz Nina.


Artist: The Waterboys
LyricsSong: Fisherman's Blues Lyrics

I wish I was a fisherman
tumblin'on the seas
far away from dry land
and
it's bitter memories
castin' out my sweet line
with abandonment and love
no ceiling bearin' down on me
save the starry sky above
with light in my head
with you in my arms...

i wish i was the brakeman
on a hurtlin fevered train
crashin head long into the heartland
like a cannon in the rain
with the feelin of the sleepers
and the burnin of the coal
countin the towns flashin by
and a night that's full of soul

with light in my head
with you in my arms...
And I know I will be loosened
from the bonds that hold me fast
and the chains all around me
will fall away at last
and on that grand and fateful day
I will take thee in my hand
I will ride on a train
I will be the fisherman
With light in my head
You in my arms...
Light in my head
You in my arms...
Light in my head
You...With light in my head
You in my arms...

Mariza- FADISTA

(check the link above- "Mariza-FADISTA" to listening to her music and an interview)

Mariza the new Queen of Fado.
MARIZA, Vocalist will be at Isaac Stern AuditoriumFriday, October 7, 2005 at 8:00 PM. The Portuguese sensation Mariza, a fadista in the tradition of the legendary Amalia Rodrigues, makes her Carnegie Hall debut. She will also be in Memphis and other USA cities as well. Check her web site for details.

As the Portuguese say: We have 3 passions in Portugal. All of those 3 passions start with the letter F.
Fado, Food ( including wine) and Futebol ( The real football-Soccer).

Here is a review of one her first cds.

Fado em mim
(World Connections)
This music is elegant, sophisticated and yearning. There's something about the guitars and the cadences of the voice that evoke the mystery and sadness of the ocean. Someone waits at a cafe on the quayside for a lover they know will never return...
Mariza has created a stir in Portugal and internationally this year with this debut album. She's young, looks the part and has a fabulous, keening, lyrical voice. She reinterprets the Portuguese tradition of Fado singing, a form of urban folk music based around cafe society. "Loucura" the opening track and "Que Dues Me Perdoe" feel like they embody the form: sad yet dignified, powerful and dramatic and beautifully sung, with simple accompaniment from portugese classical guitars.
With a voice as intense and potentially as unrelenting as this a little drama can go a long way. But the material here has enough variety to ensure a satisfying programme of many different moods. "Poetas" starts with a brooding arrangement for piano and cello, before the guitars come back and lift the track into uptempo jauntiness. "Terra D'Aqua" is simply a very strong and compelling melody.
"Barco Negro" is just a drum and Mariza's soaring voice and has an unmistakably Celtic feel to it. (Well, I suppose it's only a brief skip across the sea from Portugal to the south coast of Ireland). And there's a "hidden" track at the end, which for once is essential and not time wasting filler: a stark, great version of "Loucura" for just piano and voice.
This is state of the art "world music". Every detail is just right. It's beautifully recorded, with a deluxe sleeve and packaging. Anyone who likes emotional music, dramatically and skillfully expressed should enjoy it.
Reviewer: Nick Reynolds

The News- Jack Johnson

"The News"

A billion people died on the news tonight
But not so many cried at the terrible sight
Well mama said
It's just make believe
You can't believe everything you see
So baby close your eyes to the lullabies
On the news tonight

Who's the one to decide that it would be alright
To put the music behind the news tonight
Well mama said
You can't believe everything you hear
The diagetic world is so unclear
So baby close your ears
On the news tonight
On the news tonight

The unobtrusive tones on the news tonight
And mama said

Why don't the newscasters cry when they read about people who die?
At least they could be decent enough to put just a tear in their eyes
Mama said
It's just make believe
You cant believe everything you see
So baby close your eyes to the lullabies
On the news tonight

e.e.cummings

A poem by e.e.cummings and a photo of Sintra-Portugal ( Um dos lugares mais unico e belo no mundo).


except in you
honour,
my loveliest,
nothing
may move may rest
--you bring

(out of dark the
earth)a
procession of
wonders
huger than prove
our fears

were hopes:the moon
open
for you and close
will shy
wings of because;
each why

of star(afloat
on not
quite less than all
of time)
gives you skilful
his flame

so is your heart
alert,
of languages
there's none
but well she knows;
and can

perfectly speak
(snowflake
and rainbow mind
and soul
november
and april)

who younger than
begin
are,the worlds move
in your
(and rest,my love)
honour

This and That

Here is Link to Sidney Bechet "Summertime" Above -"This and That"



Hello friends,

Today, I should get into real bloging time so called- observations.
Today work was good.

On my mind:

My 50 minutes presentation in how to be a good Feminist Therapist, tomorrow.
Preparation: At Mill ( local and the best coffee house in Lincoln, Nebraska, the rest of all the coffee houses are pure "view", for either those who "like to be something " and for those, who call themselves "folkies".)

My partner in crime:
My colleague(will not reveal name, for confidential purposes), who will be my "sacrifice patient" tomorrow. We did discuss several concepts about my application of the Feminist Theory. In the middle of Empowering, Demystification of traditional Counselor Sessions in its interity, Self-Discloure Application, Gender-Role Analysis, Gender Role Intervention, Power Analysis and Power Intervention and so on and so forth.....We ended drinking wine at a local preferred Pub ( will not reveal the name, for reasons of exclusivity).

Conclusion: results will be interesting tomorrow.


Now that I'm home, I will have another glass of wine. A Portuguese one.

Boa noite
Susana

Gaivota-Amalia Rodrigues

(Aqui vai a rainha do fado(Queen of Fado). Amalia Rodrigues. There are no words to describe this song....only her voice.
( To listing to the song you need to click the highligt link above." Gaivota-Amalia Rodrigues"

Gaivota
Musica: Alain Oulman
Letra: Alexandre O'Neill

Se uma gaivota viesse
trazer-me o ceu de Lisboa
no desenho que fizesse,
nesse ceu onde o olhar
e uma asa que nao voa,
esmorece e cai no mar.

Que perfeito coracao
no meu peito bateria,
meu amor na tua mao,
nessa mao onde cabia
perfeito o meu coracao.

Se um portugues marinheiro,
dos sete mares andarilho,
fosse quem sabe o primeiro
a contar-me o que inventasse,
se um olhar de novo brilho
no meu olhar se enlacasse.

Que perfeito coracao
no meu peito bateria,
meu amor na tua mao,
nessa mao onde cabia
perfeito o meu coracao.

Se ao dizer adeus a vida
as aves todas do ceu,
me dessem na despedida
o teu olhar derradeiro,
esse olhar que era seu teu,
amor que foste o primeiro.

Que perfeito coracao
no meu peito morreria,
meu amor na tua mao,
nessa mao onde perfeito
bateu o meu coracao.

Ain't Got No Home

Very early one summer morning, Clarence Henry was performing on the bandstand and improvised his way into the basic riff behind "Ain't Got No Home". The crowd responded favorably, so he developed it further. Soon, Chess Records A&R was hustling Henry into Cosimo Matassa's studio in September of 1956 to record. Local DJ Poppa Stoppa laid the "Frogman" handle on the youngster when he spun the catchy 45 and it stuck.

Manu Chao. Mentira..

Mentira...Manu Chao
Here is a song by Manu Chao. Yesterday, a friend of mine from Peru, gave me this cd...And I've not stop listening to Manu Chao since then. Manu's songs are very political and at times not. This song it is called "mentira"-Lie. It is about lies that people tell to themselves and others. Messed up world we live in, isn't it? ... But one of the greatest lies and injustice ever done in this world, was the negation/refused to signed the Kyoto protocol. This song it is called "lie" and CD it is called Clandestino. By the end of the song a lot singers from Brazil and other countries make a statement about this injustice.
You can listining to the song by clicking in the title "mentira"

"Manu Chao was born in Paris in 1961 to a Galician father and a Basque mother. As he himself says, if in his home there had been a football, now he would be playing soccer, but there was a guitar, instead...as well as many refugees : intellectuals, singers, composers, painters...all fleeing south American dictatorships. Those were frequent visitors to his father, Ram�n.

Joint de Culasse, Hot Pants, Los Carayos, are the first bands formed by Manu, with which he began to mark his present in the Parisian scene. The real music earthquake, however, was undoubtedly the Mano Negra, whose contribution to multicultural and fiesta music has left indelible marks and influenced a huge numbers of bands that came later.After the break-up of Mano Negra during their Colombian adventure, Manu created Radio Bemba: more of a group of friends than a collectivity of musicians. They settled into a building (occupying one floor) of the Gran Via in Madrid. The "community" initiative did not work out all that well, so Manu decided to leave Europe and begin a long pilgrimage through Africa and Latin America, taking along a recording studio that would fit in his rucksack. Such trips (his interviews with Eduardo Galeano in the Brazilian NortheasT impressed him so much that he considered publishing a book with Zona de Obras) allowed him to collect fragments of sounds, cultures and diverse impressions which he brought together in his first solo work: Clandestino. Recorded with the collaboration of many friends, this intimate record was conceived as a compilation of life snapshots not meant for a larger public. Its more than two million copies sold without any sort of promotion were to prove the contrary. Melancholy rhythms, love poetry and melodies that lure the hearer into dance follow each other without pause in this unique album, which rose unexpectedly to a place of utmost importance in the musical panorama.But this was not enough for Manu.Now based in Barcelona, he brought together new (Caravanne des Quartier) and old (Mano Negra) friends and soon Radio Bemba began to rehearse, going out into the streets again. It was probably during the "Feira das Mentiras" a huge fiesta organized in his paternal Galicia during the France World Cup that he recovered the desire to come back to the scene "with all his heart".With two tours through Lost America and a larger number of unofficial than of official concerts, Manu turned a quiet-sounding album into a gigantic fiesta , mixing Mano Negra songs loved by the public with reminiscences from Los Carayos, adaptations of merengue classics and many new tunes with a constant message of optimism and hope delivered with incredible energy on stage."

Susana

Miguel de Unamuno

EN HORAS DE INSOMNIO
(Cuatro sonetos)
I
Me voy de aqui, no quiero mas oirme;
de mi voz toda voz suename a eco,
ya falta asi de confesor, si peco
se me escapa el poder arrepentirme.
No hallo fuera de mi en que me afirme
nada de humano y me resulto hueco;
si esta carcel por otra al fin no trueco
en mi vacio acabare de hundirme.
Oh triste soledad, la del engano
de creerse en humana compania
moviendose entre espejos, ermitano.
He ido muriendo hasta llegar al dia
en que espejo de espejos, soyme extrano
a mi mismo y descubro no vivia.
Lunes, 24-IV-1911

Bob Schneider (Metal & Steel)

Another song by Bob Schneider from the the cd Lonelyland. To listining to the song, you will need to click on the link Bob S. ( Metal& Steel).
Susana

Metal & Steel
�1999 shockorama music pub. / lyrics & music by bob Schneider

I am metal I am steel
But I don't mind cause I can't feel a thing
I'm a diamond ring
I'm not flesh & I'm not bone
And I'm not sad & I'm not all alone
I'm a stone
The king is dead and the queen has flown
Left me here in the twilight zone
Lost & looking for a way to get back home
But there's no right & there's no wrong
So I'll be good & I'll be strong
I'll be silver & I'll be gold
Without a heart and without even a soul
I'll be coal
I won't be blood and teeth and skin
& I won't feel this pain I'm in
I'll be tin with no heart within

Last Night I Dreamt That Somebody Loved Me

You can click on the link of the title to listening to the song. This song must be 15 years old but one of my favorites. Recently rediscover..funny how life is, never really quite got it until some days ago.
Susana


Last night I dreamt
That somebody loved me
No hope, no harm
Just another false alarm

Last night I felt
Real arms around me
No hope, no harm
Just another false alarm

So, tell me how long
Before the last one ?
And tell me how long
Before the right one ?

The story is old - I know
But it goes on
The story is old - I know
But it goes on

Oh, goes on
And on
Oh, goes on
And on


Smiths

Stable it Together

Here is another song by Jack J.

Staple It Together"

Its really
Too bad
He became a prisoner of his own past
He stabbed a moment in the back
With a brown thumb tack
That held up the list of things he gotta do
Its really,
No good
He's moving on before he understood
He shot the future in the foot with every step it took
From the faces that he knew cause he forgot to look

Better staple it together and call it bad weather
Staple it together and call it bad weather X3
Mm hmm

Well I guess you could say
That he dont even know where to begin
Cause he looked both ways but he was so afraid
Diggin deeper through the ditch
With every chance he missed
And the mess he made
Cause hate is such a strong word
And every brick he laid
A mistake they say
That his walls are getting taller
His world is getting smaller

Better staple it together and call it bad weather
Staple it together and call it bad weather X3
Mm hmm

Whoo

Its really
Too bad
He became a prisoner of his own past
He stabbed a moment in the back
With a brown thumb tack
That held up the list of things he gotta do
Its really,
No good
Hes moving on before he understood
He shot the future in the foot with every step it took
From the faces that he knew cause he forgot to look

Better staple it together and call it bad weather
Staple it together and call it bad weather X3

If the weather is better
We should get together
Spend a little time and we can do whatever
And if we get together we'll be twice as clever
So, staple it together and call it bad weather, mm hmmm

Check the link below on the name of the song to be able to listining to it. The program is itunes, either you have to download itunes or make the convertion to be able to hear.
Susana

Banana Pancakes-Jack Johnson

Great cd from the singer/songwriter Jack Johnson. The other cds are fantastic as well..very good. Here is the link for the web site and a short song from the new cd " in between dreams"

http://www.jackjohnsonmusic.com/

http://s33.yousendit.com/d.aspx?id=39B85N29PXWO10OXXPIMFGLQUA

Belle

Oi lienda
Bella che fa?
Bonita, bonita que tal?
But belle Je ne comprend pas francais
So you’ll have to speak to me
Some other way

Golden in the Sunset

Another of his songs. Golden in the Sunset, click on the words to listinig to the song.

You can read more about him on this blog- My friend- Jill)
http://residenciaenlatierra.blogspot.com/

I'm good now

Bob Schneider
Last night, I more or less discover the music of this man. My friends and I went to a club and listing to one of the greatest show ever....Here is one of his songs. You can click on the Link that says " I'm good now" to listining to the song. Great night in Lincoln, Nebraska.

Ted Kooser

The Blind Always Come as Such a Surprise


The blind always come as such a surprise,
suddenly filling an elevator
with a great white porcupine of canes,
or coming down upon us in a noisy crowd
like the eye of a hurricane.
The dashboards of cars stopped at crosswalks
and the shoes of commuters on trains
are covered with sentences
struck down in mid-flight by the canes of the blind.
Each of them changes our lives,
tapping across the bright circles of our ambitions
like cracks traversing the favorite china.

Ciao

CIAO CIAO ...I'm leaving Lincoln, Nebraska for some days. I'm going to Indiana to visit a good friend of mine Dr.Carla V.
Jill, Thanks for looking after Nina Simone. You have been a great friend. Please do not drink my portuguese wine:)
Here is a song by Adriana Calcanhotto:

http://s22.yousendit.com/d.aspx?id=1VGJ5OV7AI3Y02H1G0DL98U48G

may my heart always be open to little...

Photo de MV

e.e. cummings - may my heart always be open to little... (19)

may my heart always be open to little
birds who are the secrets of living
whatever they sing is better than to know
and if men should not hear them men are old

may my mind stroll about hungry
and fearless and thirsty and supple
and even if it's sunday may i be wrong
for whenever men are right they are not young

and may myself do nothing usefully
and love yourself so more than truly
there's never been quite such a fool who could fail
pulling all the sky over him with one smile

NINA

Amigos e amigas and friends,

Here is my dog, Nina. Bonitinha, naao eh?
Sorry for taking so long to post anything. My mother has return to Portugal. My studies and job have have kept me busy. Thank you to all of my friends in Lincoln, Ne, other States and countries. You all rock!It is been a hard month and also a very refreshing month in many ways. You all have been there for me, at every second and moment. I have had a fantastic time with some of you.
Lets keep drinking wine.
Cheers
Susana

Mama is in town

Mom is in town for a couple weeks.
She is cooking , taking care of my wood floors, shopping, watering my plants and so on and so forth.
There are plenty things in my house nowdays and here are a list of things:

Lots of portuguses red wine
Deodorant from Portugal
Frozen cod fish
Expensive French perfume
Portuguese cigarettes



The house is very clean . Tomorrow, I will get a dog. The names are Amalia or Nina. Help me choose a name. What do you think?

Susana

SAGRES

Photo de MV
SAGRES


Vinha de longe o mar ...
Vinha de longe, dos confins do medo ...
Mas vinha azul e brando a murmurar
Aos ouvidos da terra um cosmico segredo.

E a terra ouvia, de perfil agudo,
A confidencial revelacao
Que iluminava tudo
Que fora bruma na imaginacao.

Era o resto do mundo que faltava
(Porque faltava mundo !)
E o agudo perfil mais se agutava,
E o mar jurava cada vez mais fundo.

Sagres sagrou entao a descoberta
Por descobrir:
As duas margens da certeza incerta
Teriam de se unir !



Miguel Torga

Lizz Wright

"Music lives in that place where anything can be picked up. It can become a different statement in someone else's hands than in my hands. The fact that it can be passed from hand to hand is something beautiful, almost spiritual. It means different things in different places, and I approached this record as if there is no history. I was just a voice, and I loved it."
- Lizz Wright

Here some of her music.
Taste of Honey

http://homepage.mac.com/aurgasm/.Public/Lizz%20Wright%20-%20A%20Taste%20Of%20Honey.mp3

Old Man
http://homepage.mac.com/aurgasm/.Public/Lizz%20Wright%20-%20Old%20Man.mp3


Susana

Cuerpo Presente

Photo by MV

(...) No.
Quero quiero verla!
No.
Yo no quiero verla!!
Lorca




De Jose Luis Peixoto. Excerto de "Lunar" in antidot0, pag73

Nao sei se te vejo. A luz escurece e essa e a cor do tempo a passar.

(...)
Nao sei se te vejo. A luz escurece e essa e a cor do tempo a passar. Os meus cabelos negros. O meu vestido negro. Na terra, nas ervas, nas arvores, o negro cobre superficies cada vez maiores. A noite chega lentamente e estende-se sobre as coisas em pequenas pocas de negro. E o negro do meu vestido escurece ainda mais.(..)

Duvida

Photo taken by Marta Veríssimo



Sabemos que as palavras
nos protegem do mundo.
Mas quem nos protege
das palavras?
Jose Mario Silva

Adeus

Adeus

Ja gastamos as palavras pela rua, meu amor,
e o que nos ficou nao chega
para afastar o frio de quatro paredes.
Gastamos tudo menos o silencio.
Gastamos os olhos com o sal das lagrimas,
gastamos as maos a forca de as apertarmos,
gastamos o relogio e as pedras das esquinas
em esperas inuteis.

Meto as maos nas algibeiras e nao encontro nada.
Antigamente tinhamos tanto para dar um ao outro;
era como se todas as coisas fossem minhas:
quanto mais te dava mais tinha para te dar.
as vezes tu dizias: os teus olhos sao peixes verdes.
E eu acreditava.
Acreditava,
porque ao teu lado
todas as coisas eram possiveis.

Mas isso era no tempo dos segredos,
era no tempo em que o teu corpo era um aquario,
era no tempo em que os meus olhos
eram realmente peixes verdes.
Hoje sao apenas os meus olhos.
E pouco mas a verdade,
uns olhos como todos os outros.

Ja gastamos as palavras.
Quando agora digo: meu amor,
ja nao se passa absolutamente nada.
E no entanto, antes das palavras gastas,
tenho a certeza
de que todas as coisas estremeciam
so de murmurar o teu nome
no silencio do meu coracao.

Nao temos ja nada para dar.
Dentro de ti
nao ha nada que me peca agua.
O passado e inutil como um trapo.
E ja te disse: as palavras estao gastas.

Adeus.

Eug�nio de Andrade

A clean, Well-Lighted Place, by Hemingway

Fotografia de Alexandre Paulo

Here is one of my favorite short stories by Hemingway.

A Clean, Well-Lighted Place
by Ernest Hemingway
It was very late and everyone had left the cafe except an old man who sat in the shadow the leaves of the tree made against the electric light. In the day time the street was dusty, but at night the dew settled the dust and the old man liked to sit late because he was deaf and now at night it was quiet and he felt the difference. The two waiters inside the cafe knew that the old man was a little drunk, and while he was a good client they knew that if he became too drunk he would leave without paying, so they kept watch on him.
"Last week he tried to commit suicide," one waiter said.
"Why?"
"He was in despair."
"What about?"
"Nothing."
"How do you know it was nothing?"
"He has plenty of money."
They sat together at a table that was close against the wall near the door of the cafe and looked at the terrace where the tables were all empty except where the old man sat in the shadow of the leaves of the tree that moved slightly in the wind. A girl and a soldier went by in the street. The street light shone on the brass number on his collar. The girl wore no head covering and hurried beside him.
"The guard will pick him up," one waiter said.
"What does it matter if he gets what he's after?"
"He had better get off the street now. The guard will get him. They went by five minutes ago."
The old man sitting in the shadow rapped on his saucer with his glass. The younger waiter went over to him.
"What do you want?"
The old man looked at him. "Another brandy," he said.
"You'll be drunk," the waiter said. The old man looked at him. The waiter went away.
"He'll stay all night," he said to his colleague. "I'm sleepy now. I never get into bed before three o'clock. He should have killed himself last week."
The waiter took the brandy bottle and another saucer from the counter inside the cafe and marched out to the old man's table. He put down the saucer and poured the glass full of brandy.
"You should have killed yourself last week," he said to the deaf man. The old man motioned with his finger. "A little more," he said. The waiter poured on into the glass so that the brandy slopped over and ran down the stem into the top saucer of the pile. "Thank you," the old man said. The waiter took the bottle back inside the cafe. He sat down at the table with his colleague again.
"He's drunk now," he said.
"He's drunk every night."
"What did he want to kill himself for?"
"How should I know."
"How did he do it?"
"He hung himself with a rope."
"Who cut him down?"
"His niece."
"Why did they do it?"
"Fear for his soul."
"How much money has he got?" "He's got plenty."
"He must be eighty years old."
"Anyway I should say he was eighty."
"I wish he would go home. I never get to bed before three o'clock. What kind of hour is that to go to bed?"
"He stays up because he likes it."
"He's lonely. I'm not lonely. I have a wife waiting in bed for me."
"He had a wife once too."
"A wife would be no good to him now."
"You can't tell. He might be better with a wife."
"His niece looks after him. You said she cut him down."
"I know." "I wouldn't want to be that old. An old man is a nasty thing."
"Not always. This old man is clean. He drinks without spilling. Even now, drunk. Look at him."
"I don't want to look at him. I wish he would go home. He has no regard for those who must work."
The old man looked from his glass across the square, then over at the waiters.
"Another brandy," he said, pointing to his glass. The waiter who was in a hurry came over.
"Finished," he said, speaking with that omission of syntax stupid people employ when talking to drunken people or foreigners. "No more tonight. Close now."
"Another," said the old man.
"No. Finished." The waiter wiped the edge of the table with a towel and shook his head.
The old man stood up, slowly counted the saucers, took a leather coin purse from his pocket and paid for the drinks, leaving half a peseta tip. The waiter watched him go down the street, a very old man walking unsteadily but with dignity.
"Why didn't you let him stay and drink?" the unhurried waiter asked. They were putting up the shutters. "It is not half-past two."
"I want to go home to bed."
"What is an hour?"
"More to me than to him."
"An hour is the same."
"You talk like an old man yourself. He can buy a bottle and drink at home."
"It's not the same."
"No, it is not," agreed the waiter with a wife. He did not wish to be unjust. He was only in a hurry.
"And you? You have no fear of going home before your usual hour?"
"Are you trying to insult me?"
"No, hombre, only to make a joke."
"No," the waiter who was in a hurry said, rising from pulling down the metal shutters. "I have confidence. I am all confidence."
"You have youth, confidence, and a job," the older waiter said. "You have everything."
"And what do you lack?"
"Everything but work."
"You have everything I have."
"No. I have never had confidence and I am not young."
"Come on. Stop talking nonsense and lock up."
"I am of those who like to stay late at the cafe," the older waiter said.
"With all those who do not want to go to bed. With all those who need a light for the night."
"I want to go home and into bed."
"We are of two different kinds," the older waiter said. He was now dressed to go home. "It is not only a question of youth and confidence although those things are very beautiful. Each night I am reluctant to close up because there may be some one who needs the cafe."
"Hombre, there are bodegas open all night long."
"You do not understand. This is a clean and pleasant cafe. It is well lighted. The light is very good and also, now, there are shadows of the leaves."
"Good night," said the younger waiter.
"Good night," the other said. Turning off the electric light he continued the conversation with himself, It was the light of course but it is necessary that the place be clean and pleasant. You do not want music. Certainly you do not want music. Nor can you stand before a bar with dignity although that is all that is provided for these hours. What did he fear? It was not a fear or dread, It was a nothing that he knew too well. It was all a nothing and a man was a nothing too. It was only that and light was all it needed and a certain cleanness and order. Some lived in it and never felt it but he knew it all was nada y pues nada y nada y pues nada. Our nada who art in nada, nada be thy name thy kingdom nada thy will be nada in nada as it is in nada. Give us this nada our daily nada and nada us our nada as we nada our nadas and nada us not into nada but deliver us from nada; pues nada. Hail nothing full of nothing, nothing is with thee. He smiled and stood before a bar with a shining steam pressure coffee machine.
"What's yours?" asked the barman.
"Nada."
"Otro loco mas," said the barman and turned away.
"A little cup," said the waiter.
The barman poured it for him.
"The light is very bright and pleasant but the bar is unpolished," the waiter said.
The barman looked at him but did not answer. It was too late at night for conversation.
"You want another copita?" the barman asked.
"No, thank you," said the waiter and went out. He disliked bars and bodegas. A clean, well-lighted cafe was a very different thing. Now, without thinking further, he would go home to his room. He would lie in the bed and finally, with daylight, he would go to sleep. After all, he said to himself, it's probably only insomnia. Many must have it.

Cinema Falado

Fantastic image, out of a Federico Felini film.

No primeiro numero da Revista "Orfeu". Pessoa "mata" Alberto Caeiro.

Rio Tejo, Lisboa, Portugal

Ponte 25 de Abril in Lisbon, Portugal.
This is the waters that have embrace Lisbon for centuries.
The Tejo has inspired poets, such as Pessoa and many other artists or citizens of the soul.

Here is a poem by Alvaro De Campos

Lisbon revisited (1926)
Nothing holds me to anything. I want fifty things at once.With a met-hungry anguish I yearn

For what I don't Know-Definitely for the indefinite...

Restless I sleep and live in restless dreamOf someone who sleeps restlessly, half of me dreaming.They close all the abstract and necessary doors on me.They drew the curtains on all the hypotheses I might see on the street.

There's no house on the side street with the number they gave me.
I woke to the same life I departed by sleeping.Even my dream armies suffered defeat.Even my dreams felt false as I dreamed them.Even the life I only desire - even that life - cloys...
I understand in fits and starts;I write betweentimes when I'm not tired;And a boredom that's bored even of itself drags me ashore;I've no idea how the future and fate will treat my aimless anguish;I don't know what impossible shouthern islands await me shipwrecked;Or what palm-groves of letters will give me at least a line of verse.
No, I don't know this, that, or anything else...And deep in my soul where I dream what I dreamt,In the furthest recesses of my soul where I live memory without any reason(And the past is a natural fog of fake tears),On the shortcuts and roads in the faraway woodsWhere I hypothesized my being,The last remnants of my ultimate illusionFlee, dismantled,My dream armies vanquished without ever having been,My latent cohorts shattered to pieces in God.
Once again I see you, City of my childhood terrifyingly lost...City of my sorrow and joy, I dream here again...I? But am I the same person who lived here once and returned,And came back here again, am I?Or are we, all the I's was or were here,A string of head-being strung all together by a memory strand,A string of dreams of myself which someone outside me dreamt up?

Once again I see you-With heart more distant, soul less my own.
Once again I see you - Lisbon, the Tagus, and all-,Useless passerby of you and of me,

Stranger in this place as in every other,

Accidental in life as is in the soul,Phantom wandering the balls of memory,To the squeeling of rates and the squeaking of boards,In the doomed castle where life must be lived...
Once again I see you,Shadow passing through shadows Shining for one moment in a unknown, funereal light,Then entering the night like a ship's wake disappearingIn water slowly becaome inaudible...
Once again I see you,But myself, alas, I fail to see!Shattered, the magical mirror where I saw myself identical,And in each fateful fragment I descry only a piece of myself-A piece of you and of myself...

(1926)
from «POESIA DE ÁLVARO DE CAMPOS» by Álvaro de Campos

Here is a link to the video of Madredeus singing about Lisbon and the Tejo River
It is called " Moro em Lisboa" ( I live in Lisboa).

mms://videos.madredeus.com/madredeus/MoroEmLisboa.asf

(If you are not able to open to the link ,you can go to the web site of Madredeus( there is a link on my blog) and open "video clips" and you will see "moro em Lisboa".
Abracos
Susana

MASTER SONG

Mr. Cohen again. The song it is called "Master Song" and wine and some more.

http://s27.yousendit.com/d.aspx?id=1VVJLHDI6OKTN2HYRNCVXA9PGL

I believe that you heard your master sing when I was sick in bed.
I suppose that he told you everything that I keep locked away in my head.
Your master took you travelling, well at least that's what you said.
And now do you come back to bring your prisoner wine and bread?
You met him at some temple, where they take your clothes at the door.
He was just a numberless man in a chair who'd just come back from the war.
And you wrap up his tired face in your hair and he hands you the apple core.
Then he touches your lips now so suddenly bare of all the kisses we put on some time before.
And he gave you a German Shepherd to walk with a collar of leather and nails, and he never once made you explain or talk about all of the little details, such as who had a word and who had a rock, and who had you through the mails.
Now your love is a secret all over the block, and it never stops not even when your master fails.
And he took you up in his aeroplane, which he flew without any hands, and you cruised above the ribbons of rain that drove the crowd from the stands.
Then he killed the lights in a lonely Lane and, an ape with angel glands, erased the final wisps of pain with the music of rubber bands.
And now I hear your master sing, you kneel for him to come.
His body is a golden string that your body is hanging from.
His body is a golden string, my body has grown numb.
Oh now you hear your master sing, your shirt is all undone.
And will you kneel beside this bed that we polished so long ago, before your master chose instead to make my bed of snow?
Your eyes are wild and your knuckles are red and you're speaking far too low.
No I can't make out what your master said before he made you go.
Then I think you're playing far too rough for a lady who's been to the moon;
I've lain by this window long enough to get used to an empty room. And your love is some dust in an old man's cough who is tapping his foot to a tune, and your thighs are a ruin, you want too much, let's say you came back some time too soon.
I loved your master perfectly I taught him all that he knew. He was starving in some deep mystery like a man who is sure what is true.
And I sent you to him with my guarantee I could teach him something new, and I taught him how you would long for me no matter what he said no matter what you'd do.
I believe that you heard your master sing while I was sick in bed, I'm sure that he told you everything I must keep locked away in my head.
Your master took you travelling, well at least that's what you said,
And now do you come back to bring your prisoner wine and bread?

Azul Dançante

Foto de E.Emanuel.

http://d33.yousendit.com/D/1R9DB4E3OJDLA2BJ93LY6Z3L5H/02-DJAVAN%20-%20FLOR%20DO%20MEDO%20-%202004.mp3

Depois de umas semanas longas de trabalho
ouvir esta cancao do Djavan... eh uma delicia.
O cd chama-se "vaidade".

FLOR DO MEDO
Venha me beijar de uma vez
você pensa demais pra decidir
venha a mim de corpo e alma
libera e deixa o que for nos unir
não vá fugir mais uma vez
vença a falta de ar que a flor do medo traz
tente pensar pode até ser mau e tal
mas pode até ser que seja demais
tudo vai mudar
posso pressentir
você vai lembrar e rir
alguma dor que não vai matar ninguém
pode ser vista e nos rondar
não precisa se assustar
isso é clamor de amor
venha me beijar de uma vez
feito nuvem no ar sem aflição
venha a mim de corpo e alma
libera a paz do meu coração
não vá se perder outra vez
nesse mesmo lugar por onde já passou
tente pensar pode até ser sonho e tal
mas pode até ser que seja o amor