Monday, February 28, 2005


Fascinação

Entre os becos da tua vida
Descanso na tua esquina
somos dois distraídos
acumulados nas águas mornas
Porque me fascinas!

Numa organização aflita
Dispo-te entre ramos debotados
nas luzes de um sol traidor
Lentamente assustador
Aonde me fascinas!

Quero-te à beira de uma árvore
Num mar que não me pertence
A tua ausência desliza como pingos
de uma água visitada
Como me fascinas!

Vi-te respirar num rochedo vivo
O teu olhar resultou
num suspiro demorado
Estás nas metades abertas
Num esconderijo de necessidades
E me fascinas, liberdade.

Susana Pestana

Huila
África adormecida
nas pétalas capturadas da vida.
Sonho com o vermelho da terra
Nas cores de um planalto esquecido.
Mãe minha, mostra-me paz nunca tocada e muita vez prometida.
Afasta essa mão branca deixa-me dormir nesta noite violada.
By Susana Pestana

Sunday, February 27, 2005


Espaços
As minhas lágrimas partiram-se
No entendimento da vida.
Quebrou-se a inocência na minha alma.
Hoje vivo na angústia de ter o conhecimento
De nunca me ter sentido amada.
Estou mergulhada na fúria
De perceber o absurdo do desespero
Destes temporais da vida.
Subo suavemente esquecida nas escadas amanhecidas
Sem sentir os instalados na minha vida.
By Susana Pestana

Goodbye to Armelle Posted by Hello

The Winter Before Last.


The bicycle lying against the wall waits for a ride,
lying, locked, against the cement wall waiting for life.
Up on the top floor, through my bathroom window,
I often looked at her, the scrawny French woman I made fun of.
Winter before last,
I looked instead at the still silent snow over her bicycle,
recalling the splashy sounds on a busy street,
people hurrying, unaware of tired burdens resting, worried on South Street.
The door had been half open, the shoes neatly placed by her purse
lying perfectly, ready to depart, the forgotten book lying open, pages flawlessly marked.

No note was found, no explanation revealed
Death, only, lay, like sticky dust in the air,
while I, still, look for the bicycle from winter before last.
By Susana Pestana
12/5/2004

Picture taken by my mother ( Elsa Camacho).
Mother and daughter trip to the Big Apple. One of the best trips ever.
Blimunda in NYC Posted by Hello

Saturday, February 26, 2005


Natureza
Riachos impulsivos
Nos pulsos da neve
Guiados e suados.
Altitudes violadas
Pelos movimentos dos ventos
Não há espelhos...
Hoje vi o meu rosto escuro
Arranhado pelos espinhos da terra
Nao me conheco, sou outra pessoa
Não há espelhos....
Sentada a escrever,
Vi uma gazela, não me mexi.
Ela não me pertence;
O seu silêncio e mestre
O meu cruzamento e pequeno.
Não há mais paredes....
As tempestades são reais
Os tectos não nos cobrem
As árvores não têm salas;
E as almas estão reduzidas.
Nasci, sou simplesmente secundária!

pois eh Posted by Hello

Nada de mais....apenas eu, sem saber ainda bem como eh que isto funciona.
I still have no idea what to think about all of this or how it works....HELP

Juntos

Pedacinhos de tempo roubados
Aqui e a ali
ruídos num quarto que nos salva…
Desejos que nos acalmam.
Quando estamos juntos!

Dois mundos
Um Tejo iluminado
Uma canção
Uma noite de raspão
Juntos
O Azul se esconde entre portas que se abrem
Períodos nus desejos submersos passadeiras com vontades.
Quando estamos juntos
Um medo empurrado
Uma madrugada acordada
Uma alma entre nos
Dois corpos alinhados

Juntos
Modelamos a saudade
cega-se a ausência interrompe-se os vazios reconcilia-se fragilidades
Por sombras de sílabas.
Quando estamos juntos ….penetramos nos gestos dos nossos corpos.

By Susana Pestana

..... Posted by Hello
"I believe in God, family and McDonalds" Ray Kroc
I. Marx
Marx’s critique of capitalism-social organization launched the links between how societies are formed and the material conditions underlying the means of production. Marx was very concerned with the relationship between the means of the production and the relations of production, i.e., the ways people are treated, the interrelationship among workers and the products of their labor. He also points out the dominant/submissive relations that come necessarily to exist in capitalism between the workers (proletariats) and the small elite of owners in power (bourgeoisie), creating a radical imbalance between haves and have nots. The consequences of this system, as Marx suggests, generates alienation or isolation in the individual or the worker, suppressing her creativity, and transforms the worker into a vehicle that primarily follows rules and consumes material goods. Consequently, Marx believed that through alienation of the individual two kinds of cultural consciousness will become visible: class consciousness and false consciousness.
Class consciousness will cause proletarians to realize how capitalism works and how it affects them. They will develop a class consciousness; they will see how they are being oppressed and, therefore the workers will rebel against the bourgeois. On the other hand, Marx also beliefs that in the mean time the workers do not rebel because of false consciousness, the incorrect assumptions about how the capitalism works. Marx believed that capitalism feeds the idea that if you only work hard you can buy stuff and maybe be rich, and this is a form of denial, moreover creating a false awareness of their reality.
II. Fast Food
Everyday millions of Americans drive to fast food restaurants and consume food full of saturated fat and calories increasing their chance for heart disease and obesity. The American fast food industry is guided by two principals: making food as cheap as possible, and using cheap labor supplied by teenagers, unskilled labor and with no unionized workers. To keep prices low companies such McDonalds deal directly with slaughterhouses that hire illegal immigrants who are willing to work hard for less money and utterly with no rights, making the Meatpacking Company one of the most dangerous places to work.
Last Sunday I went to a local bakery store near my house on South Street and I had coffee and fresh baked onion read for not more than $ 3 dollars. It was very pleasant to sit and read the paper and see people buying bread in the morning. After awhile I walked towards Open Harvest, a local coop grocery store. On my way there I had to walk past a fast food restaurant. I was struck by the overwhelming smell of grease. Moreover the aesthetics of the building itself were not agreeable, the cement concrete seemed to dominated the surroundings of the building filled with advertisement pictures on the windows of big burgers and slices and pieces of greasy bacon. The parking a lot was full of cars parking and also there was a line of cars waiting for their turn on the drive thru. I could not help but be struck, again, by the contrast between this frantic world of fast food and the pleasant scene of the early morning.

III. Marx
The essential element of false consciousness, for Marx, is the conviction that what is of true worth in life is, not one’s own labor or creativity or self-fulfillment, but what one can buy with the products of one’s labor. It is a corollary of this conviction that what is of true worth is immediate sensual gratification. Macdonald’s perfectly exemplifies, in this sense, false consciousness.. The food is quick, laced with chemicals designed to stimulate rapid consumption, and entirely unsatisfying in the sense that it creates an appetite for an unhealthy diet, i.e. a diet which if consistently pursued will diminish one’s powers of creativity and produce simply the desire to consume more of the same. You can never get enough. Yet, the more you get the less satisfied you are and, yet, you keep coming back.
False consciousness is denial. It is manufactured by capitalism itself, not this or that CEO within the system, but the system itself, to convince people that all they need to do to be happy is consume, and consume, and consume, without end. Fast food, like religion, is the opiate of the masses. It keeps us sedated and under control.
In my view Marx ‘s theory perfectly explains the false consciousness present in our culture’s addiction to fast food. However, his views are flawed, so far as I can see, in his belief that the proletariat would rebel against the forces that creates class consciousness. I saw no evidence of incipient worker rebellion last Sunday. The parking lot was full of working people who evidently cannot get enough of cheap, unsatisfying food produced by exploitation. Capitalism manipulates people with the idea they have choices and as long as people have enough money to be satisfy they will buy this idea. They believe, with Ray Kroc, in God, family, and Macdonald’s.
Susana Pestana
Can White Man Play or sing the Blues?
It’s a human tendency to think the interpretation of another culture by an outsider is less authentic. This can be applied to a wide range of ideas. Are gender issues owned by that gender? Can a man teach women studies? Are artistic movements the propriety of a particular generation or culture? Is modern impressionism as genuine as Monet or Van Gogh? Can a white man play or sing the blues?
The less complex answers to those questions would have been to say, yes or no. But what argument would one use to support her or his opinion? Rudinow’s uses ownership and experience to demonstrate that a white man can sing the blues, if the proper conditions are met. Meaning, if one masters the medium and recognizes its origins, it is possible to be authentic to the genre. I also agree with this opinion to a certain extent because the diversity of the elements in music or any other form of art are difficult to measure without considering other variables that can be applied to an individual.
For example the traditional Portuguese music, fado, is derived from an era and lower social class where one’s destiny belonged to someone else, the rich. It came from a specific time and place and was later woven into the general cultural fabric. The blues came from a specific time and place as well, the early twentieth century on the Mississippi Delta, where racism and segregation limited the opportunity of blacks and the institution of slavery was in the recent past. Does simply membership in a specific group imply ownership? I can not claim ownership of fado, I can’t sing, write or perform it. Symbolically, fado is implanted in the Portuguese culture but an outsider who has mastered its form can authentically interpret it. One can not rationally justify ownership simply by ethnic association.
I have little in common with the society from which fado was born. Their experiences and way of life would be quite foreign to me. Does that limit my ability to empathize with the message, such as longing and fate, central themes in fado? Of course not, these human emotions can be experienced by all of us. But can I understand the idiom, the instruments, form and rhythm? Perhaps if I am interested in practicing fado, I could become legitimate but that does not imply I can only do that because I am Portuguese.
A person’s origins should not solely determine or deter the acceptance of her or his form of expression when playing a variety types of music such as fado or the blues. The predetermination of a certain group of people to play a specific music is irrelevant to the reality of individual wants and needs. What matters is the development of the performer and the music itself over time. A man can teach women studies. An artistic movement is not the property of a particular generation or culture, nor can its legitimacy be questioned based only on exterior factors that have nothing to do how one becomes an artist.
Susana Pestana