tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-51857722011-06-08T07:52:18.044+01:00De EsquerdaA actualidade do ponto de vista da Esquerda.
deesquerda@hotmail.comPedrohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04297663346594702644noreply@blogger.comBlogger2531100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5185772.post-1101130534770632692004-11-22T13:34:00.000Z2004-11-22T13:56:56.920ZEpilogo
There is one last thing I have to ask you to do. This is purely for my own enjoyment and I hope, for yours. Would you sing the Battle Hymn Of The Republic with me, please?
intro on Battle Hymn Of The Republic, Joan Baez In Concert Part 2
Battle Hymn Of The Republic
(Julia Ward Howe) Public Domain
Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord
He is trampling out the vintage Pedrohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04297663346594702644noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5185772.post-1101130477526491542004-11-22T13:19:00.000Z2004-11-22T13:46:33.250ZNao recordo o primeiro post que fiz aqui no De Esquerda. Nem sequer recordo o ultimo post que aqui fiz, o que traduz a realidade do nosso blog e de muitos outros. Recordo, no entanto, que apos a entrada dos politicos e dos jornalistas profissionais na blogsfera, ter dito ao Manuel que a blogsfera tinha entrado em fase terminal. Pelo menos a blogsfera que nos entusiasmou e que nos fez querer Pedrohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04297663346594702644noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5185772.post-1099331714106914002004-11-01T17:54:00.000Z2004-11-22T13:51:30.153ZOn connait la chanson ou Porque e que nunca se demite ninguem da GNR quando os resultados das Operacoes Vida sao o desastre que se ve?
Diz o site do Publico que desde a madrugada de sexta-feira ja morreram 12 pessoas nas estradas portuguesas. Diz tambem "A GNR vai utilizar nesta operação radares fotográficos, alcoolímetros, um helicóptero e viaturas descaracterizadas equipadas com vídeo". E maisPedrohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04297663346594702644noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5185772.post-1087818738530478232004-06-21T12:51:00.000+01:002004-06-21T12:52:54.560+01:00Eh eh
Pedrohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04297663346594702644noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5185772.post-1079705679698209282004-03-19T14:14:00.000Z2004-03-19T14:18:54.810Z«(...)
Por eso me da tanta pena ver las pancartas en las manifestaciones y los gritos dirigidos a unos asesinos que no escuchan, que no pueden escuchar, de la misma manera que entraron y salieron de esos trenes sin ver a nadie. Sin darse cuenta de nada. Gritarle a un asesino es como cantarle al fuego, el fuego se apaga o nos consume, no se le calma ni se le convence ni se negocia con él, al fuegoManuel Pinheirohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02753328447107401271noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5185772.post-1078939736322197302004-03-10T17:28:00.000Z2004-03-10T18:19:33.560ZPolitica Regional, ou 'O que e preciso e ser mesmo bom'
This is the story of :
Six college kids. Straight out of the University of Texas.
1971. Instead of getting real jobs, they go into advertising. Instead of making money, they start their own agency. Instead of using their heads, they stay in Austin. Instead of failing, they succeed.
There is pain in art.
There is also healing.
Prison Pedrohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04297663346594702644noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5185772.post-107893921506605642004-03-10T17:20:00.000Z2004-03-10T17:42:52.733ZBetter luck next time.
The Porto game was disappointing to say the least. I didn't really think we deserved it over the two legs. It was a bit of a body blow.
I left my seat just before the end of the game, with United leading 1-0. I was making my way to the MUTV studio with Joe Jordan and I said to him, "Well, we're there, and the good thing is that we've kept a clean sheet." Suddenly I Pedrohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04297663346594702644noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5185772.post-1078937152822265172004-03-10T16:45:00.000Z2004-03-10T16:52:35.950ZWhen the phone rings, who would you most like it to be? And who would you most hate it to be? Who is the first person that comes into your mind, at that moment?
The two of them would lurch from pub to pub from lunchtime until midnight, laughing at everything. He had no other friends like this, because there are some conversations you can only have with certain people.
But I can’t stay with her
Pedrohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04297663346594702644noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5185772.post-1078756271230602712004-03-08T14:31:00.000Z2004-03-08T14:34:12.606Z
NASA's Terra satellite, part of the Earth Observing System, captured this photograph of a solar eclipse covering part of Antarctica on November 23, 2003. The image was taken with the satellite's MODIS, or Moderate Resolution Imaging Spectroradiometer instrument.Pedrohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04297663346594702644noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5185772.post-1078342889792860972004-03-03T19:41:00.000Z2004-03-03T19:50:20.076ZVer para crer
A 87-minute time trip, filmed in one uninterrupted take covering nearly a mile of the Hermitage.Pedrohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04297663346594702644noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5185772.post-1078060476068593902004-02-29T13:14:00.000Z2004-02-29T13:28:10.950ZRecomenda-se
If the World Should End in Fire
If the world should end in fire
The oceans boiling into flame
I will watch the last sunrise
And think of all the sunny days
When the mystery of the sky
And the shifting clouds
Was enough to make me sure
That behind the gauzy haze
Of life's listless dream
There's a place where time is dead
And all things stand still and always will
And always will
Pedrohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04297663346594702644noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5185772.post-1077484488542705452004-02-22T21:14:00.000Z2004-02-22T21:17:41.246ZCyclonic eddy near Ilha de Madeira in the Atlantic on Earth
Gemini 10 image of a cyclonic eddy in the stratocumulus clouds near the Ilha de Madeira in the Atlantic Ocean. The eddy is visible at right, and the island is the tiny dark spot just to the left of it. The island is 55 km (35 miles) long and rises over 1.8 km (6000 feet) above sea level, obstructing the northeasterly wind and causing Pedrohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04297663346594702644noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5185772.post-1077475668998646952004-02-22T18:47:00.000Z2004-02-22T18:51:39.310ZWith the twilight colors falling
And the evening laying shadows
Hidden memories come stealing from my mind
As I feel my own heart beating out
The simple joy of living
I wonder how I ever was that kind
But the wild road I was rambling
Was always out there calling
And they said a hundred times I should have died
But now my present miracle
Is that you're here beside me So,
I believe they Pedrohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04297663346594702644noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5185772.post-1077392379508375402004-02-21T19:39:00.000Z2004-02-22T18:52:53.030ZThen and Now
In younger days each morning I rose with joy,
To weep at nightfall; now in my later years,
Though doubting I begin my day, yet
Always its end is serene and holy.
The Course of Life
High my spirit aspired, truly, however, love
Pulled it earthward; and grief lower still bows it down.
So I follow the arc of
Life and return to my starting-place.
Brevity
'Why so brief, now, so curt? Pedrohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04297663346594702644noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5185772.post-1077322512159492402004-02-21T00:15:00.000Z2004-02-21T00:17:51.810ZPedrohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04297663346594702644noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5185772.post-1077272767561648692004-02-20T10:26:00.000Z2004-02-20T10:28:47.030ZOffbeat news
Piranha found in London's Thames
The 4-inch-long red-bellied piranha was dropped by a passing seagull onto the deck of a boat built to oxygenate the river. The Thames was declared "dead" in the 1960s but is now home to 119 types of fish.
"It was very fresh and had obviously only just died. You could see the marks made by the seagull's beak on its back," fisheries officer Tom Pedrohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04297663346594702644noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5185772.post-1077272704639949582004-02-20T10:25:00.000Z2004-02-20T10:27:43.483ZO que ai vem
U.S. official: Uranium enrichment parts found in Iran
WASHINGTON (CNN) -- International inspectors have discovered uranium enrichment centrifuge parts in Iran that are much more sophisticated than the type Tehran has admitted to having, a senior Bush administration official said Thursday.
International Atomic Energy Agency officials found "P-2" centrifuge parts that are "far Pedrohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04297663346594702644noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5185772.post-1077182562649653652004-02-19T09:22:00.000Z2004-02-19T09:25:20.153Z-Gracias, querido Dios - le dijo Carlitos al Todopoderoso Director de tal maravilla, y, con esa fabulosa capacidad de ir hacia adelante y atras que tienen los suenos, anadio-:No he recogido mi rosario, que se me cayo al suelo delante de ti y de tu Madre, la Virgen, como bien sabras, por bajar en busca de un amor que llamaba a gritos; y ahora adoro a Natalia, que es de carne y hueso y ademas tienePedrohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04297663346594702644noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5185772.post-1077045282794402742004-02-17T19:14:00.000Z2004-02-17T19:19:35.746ZTime does not pass when snow is falling --
only the silence falls. Trees glisten, trembling
as a body trembles beneath a white sheet,
the room cold, shock of warm hands, feet
twisted and touching feet. The snow fell
and settled on her hair, diamonds to tell
the story of her beauty, silence in timelessness,
eyes saying stay, her whispers wordless.
That night I woke to the silence of snow. Pedrohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04297663346594702644noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5185772.post-1076964506891537862004-02-16T20:48:00.000Z2004-02-16T22:51:35.576ZI loves you, Porgy,
Don't let him take me
Don't let him handle me
And drive me mad
If you can keep me
I wanna stay here with you forever
And I'll be glad
Yes I loves you, Porgy,
Don't let him take me
Don't let him handle me
With his hot hands
If you can keep me
I wants to stay here with you forever
I've got my man
I loves you, Porgy,
Don't let him take me
Don't let him handle me
And drive me Pedrohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04297663346594702644noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5185772.post-1076870117267382322004-02-15T18:35:00.000Z2004-02-15T18:38:17.796ZPedrohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04297663346594702644noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5185772.post-1076869005540564102004-02-15T18:16:00.000Z2004-02-15T18:27:21.500ZChegou aqui ao e-mail local um poema Pos Valentine's Day, em resposta ao Spitzer Telescope Sends a Rose for Valentine's Day.
Oh Lord, please give me an impotent man.
I enjoy a good hug whenever I can
but celibacy is my ultimate plan,
so give me an impotent man.
He could be taking some strong medication
that dampens his drive, or have some combination
of injury, age, ennui and castration,
Pedrohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04297663346594702644noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5185772.post-1076868644985302822004-02-15T18:10:00.000Z2004-02-15T18:16:06.030ZWe were always One.
There was only One;
there never was
anyone else.
But just to make the sport more scarey
we played at the game of adversary
and hid ourselves in mysteries
swathed in our separate histories
and dreamed of finding One.
But it was always One.
One hung upon the cross,
One sat beneath the bodhi tree
and One was good
and One was bad
and One was all there'll ever be,
shaman Pedrohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04297663346594702644noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5185772.post-1076868044601844612004-02-15T18:00:00.000Z2004-02-15T18:04:14.043ZIII
At the first turning of the second stair
I turned and saw below
The same shape twisted on the banister
Under the vapour in the fetid air
Struggling with the devil of the stairs who wears
The deceitul face of hope and of despair.
At the second turning of the second stair
I left them twisting, turning below;
There were no more faces and the stair was dark,
Damp, jagged, like an old Pedrohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04297663346594702644noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5185772.post-1076850027910806812004-02-15T13:00:00.000Z2004-02-15T13:03:59.466Z
Mission: STS028 Roll: 153 Frame: 10 Mission ID on the Film or image: STS28
Country or Geographic Name: PORTUGAL
Features: LISBON, COAST, FRONT
Center Point Latitude: 40.5 Center Point Longitude: -9.5 (Negative numbers indicate south for latitude and west for longitude)
Pedrohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04297663346594702644noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5185772.post-1076849653670679742004-02-15T12:54:00.000Z2004-02-15T12:59:14.310Z
Mission: ISS005 Roll: E Frame: 6642 Mission ID on the Film or image: ISS005
Country or Geographic Name: PORTUGAL
Features: PORTO, DOURO RIVER, COASTLINE
Center Point Latitude: 41.0 Center Point Longitude: -8.5 (Negative numbers indicate south for latitude and west for longitude)Pedrohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04297663346594702644noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5185772.post-1076849344380992702004-02-15T12:49:00.000Z2004-02-15T12:52:04.983Z
Vesuvius overlooks the city of Naples and the Bay of Naples in central Italy. (Popocatepetl and Mount Fuji are other volcanos surrounded by dense urban areas.) In 79 AD, Vesuvius erupted cataclysmically, burying all of the surrounding cites with up to 30 m of ash. The towns of Pompeii and Herculanaeum were rediscovered in the 18th century, and excavated in the 20th century. They provide a Pedrohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04297663346594702644noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5185772.post-1076848979249515982004-02-15T12:42:00.000Z2004-02-15T12:47:50.670Z
This photograph shows rays of green aurora topped by red in a Southern Hemisphere light show
An aurora profile -- Green aurora extends upward from the Earth's airglow layer in the photograph above. When red aurora is present, it usually extends above the green aurora.
Swirls of bright green aurora above the airglow. The bright light in the lower left is a small city in Canada
he ISS-6 Pedrohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04297663346594702644noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5185772.post-1076847165365653102004-02-15T12:12:00.000Z2004-02-15T12:59:55.233ZMonuments of Mars
Nasa sent equatorial probes and polar probes to the planet Mars, to discover once and for all, or to help us find out, were the structures real, imagined, natural, or manmade perhaps, or made by other hands, handmade by other hands. Ahhh, but a funny happened on the way to Mars, out there among the stars, both probes somehow failed, disconnected, disoriented, they crashed to Pedrohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04297663346594702644noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5185772.post-1076776059776490152004-02-14T16:27:00.000Z2004-02-14T16:33:54.450ZNovidades do Planeta Vermelho
This color image taken by the Mars Exploration Rover Spirit's panoramic camera on Sol 40 is centered on an unusually flaky rock called Mimi. Mimi is only one of many features in the area known as "Stone Council," but looks very different from any rock that scientists have seen at the Gusev crater site so far. Mimi's flaky appearance leads scientists to a number ofPedrohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04297663346594702644noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5185772.post-1076688633705145172004-02-13T16:10:00.000Z2004-02-13T16:17:52.200ZSitcom americana
Episodio 1: Disparates
The North Vietnamese general in charge of the military campaign that finally drove the U.S. out of South Vietnam in 1975 credited a group led by Democratic presidential front-runner John Kerry with helping him achieve victory.
In his 1985 memoir about the war, Gen. Vo Nguyen Giap wrote that if it weren't for organizations like Kerry's Vietnam Veterans Pedrohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04297663346594702644noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5185772.post-1076600126508846722004-02-12T15:35:00.000Z2004-02-12T15:37:54.936ZPrimeira fotografia tirada na superficie de Marte
This is the first photograph ever taken on the surface of the planet Mars. It was obtained by Viking 1 just minutes after the spacecraft landed successfully early today. The center of the image is about 1.4 meters (five feet) from Viking Lander camera #2. We see both rocks and finely granulated material--sand or dust. Many of the small Pedrohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04297663346594702644noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5185772.post-1076600059995189782004-02-12T15:34:00.000Z2004-02-12T15:36:48.420ZPaisagem de Marte II
Pedrohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04297663346594702644noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5185772.post-1076599428895108332004-02-12T15:23:00.000Z2004-02-12T15:27:57.606ZO planeta vermelho
This color picture of Mars was taken July 21--the day following Viking l's successful landing on the planet. The local time on Mars is approximately noon. The view is southeast from the Viking. Orange-red surface materials cover most of the surface, apparently forming a thin veneer over darker bedrock exposed in patches, as in the lower right. The reddish surface materials Pedrohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04297663346594702644noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5185772.post-1076427132733727982004-02-10T15:32:00.000Z2004-02-10T18:39:43.530ZSong of the soldier of the Red Army
1
Because our land is eaten up
With an exhausted sun in it
It spat us out on to dark pavements
And country roads of frozen grit.
2
The melting slush washed the army in the spring
It was a child of summer’s red.
Then in October snow began to fall
In January’s winds its breast froze dead.
3
In those years talk of Freedom came
From lips inside which ice had Pedrohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04297663346594702644noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5185772.post-1075663155438093142004-02-01T19:19:00.000Z2004-02-01T19:22:43.296ZThey're 5 miles high as the crow flies
leavin' vapour trails against a blood red sky
Movin' in from the East toward the West
with Balaclava helmets over their heads, yes!
But if you think that Jesus Christ is coming
Honey you've got another thing coming
If he ever finds out who's hi-jacked his name
He'll cut out his heart and turn in his grave
Islam is rising
The Christians mobilising
The worldPedrohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04297663346594702644noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5185772.post-1074206055357312532004-01-15T22:34:00.000Z2004-01-15T22:36:07.153ZIV
Who walked between the violet and the violet
Who walked between
The various ranks of varied green
Going in white and blue, in Mary's colour,
Talking of trivial things
In ignorance and knowledge of eternal dolour
Who moved among the others as they walked,
Who then made strong the fountains and made fresh the springs
Made cool the dry rock and made firm the sand
In blue of larkspur, Pedrohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04297663346594702644noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5185772.post-1073574414487568722004-01-08T15:06:00.001Z2004-01-08T15:08:36.903Z
Van Gogh, Branches with Almond BlossomPedrohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04297663346594702644noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5185772.post-1073574360782727732004-01-08T15:06:00.000Z2004-01-08T15:07:43.216ZPost: Alguem se lembra da Valentim de Carvalho?
Keywords: Comercio Tradicional, Centros de Decisao em Portugal
Negócios: Vendas da Fnac crescem mais de 5% em 2003
As vendas da cadeia de lojas Fnac, filial do grupo Pinault Printemps Redoute, aumentaram mais de 5% no ano passado, revelou esta quinta-feira o presidente da empresa, Denis Olivennes, em declarações à estação de televisão LCI.
Pedrohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04297663346594702644noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5185772.post-1073571327259425582004-01-08T14:15:00.000Z2004-01-08T14:37:57.233Z
Don’t fear your best friends
Because a best friend, would never try to do ya wrong
And don’t fear your worst friends
Because a worst friend’s just a best friend, that’s done ya wrong
Don’t fear the nighttime
‘cause the monsters know you’re divine
Don’t fear the sunshine
‘cause everything is better, in the summertime
And it’s never too late, to start the day over
Never too late to pick up the Pedrohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04297663346594702644noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5185772.post-1070352031222494762003-12-02T08:00:00.001Z2003-12-02T08:01:24.623ZLargo espectro de plata conmovida
el viento de la noche suspirando
abrió con mano gris mi vieja herida
y se alejó; yo estaba deseando.
Llaga de amor que me dará la vida
perpetua sangre y pura luz brotando.
Grieta en que Filomena enmudecida
tendrá bosque, dolor y nido blando.
¡Ay qué dulce rumor en mi cabeza!
Me tenderé junto a la flor sencilla
donde flota sin alma tu belleza.
Y el agua Pedrohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04297663346594702644noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5185772.post-1070352008708180272003-12-02T08:00:00.000Z2003-12-02T08:01:02.123ZSobre el cielo verde,
un lucero verde,
¿qué ha de hacer, amor,
¡ay!... sino perderse?
Las torres fundidas
con la niebla fría,
¿cómo han de mirarnos
con sus ventanitas?
Cien luceros verdes
sobre un cielo verde,
no ven a cien torres
blancas, en la nieve.
Y esta angustia mía
para hacerla viva,
he de decorarla
con rojas sonrisas.
[Preludio], Federico Garcia LorcaPedrohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04297663346594702644noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5185772.post-1070351982053954502003-12-02T07:59:00.001Z2003-12-02T08:00:34.606ZLas alamedas se van,
pero dejan su reflejo.
Las alamedas se van.
pero nos dejan el viento.
El viento está amortajado
a lo largo bajo el cielo.
Pero ha dejado flotando
sobre los ríos sus ecos.
El mundo de las luciérnagas
ha invadido mis recuerdos.
Y un corazón diminuto
me va brotando en los dedos.
[Preludio], Federico Garcia LorcaPedrohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04297663346594702644noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5185772.post-1070351958181833322003-12-02T07:59:00.000Z2003-12-02T08:00:10.750ZDesde mi cuarto
oigo el surtidor.
Un dedo de la parra
y un rayo de sol.
Señalan hacia el sitio
de mi corazón.
Por el aire de agosto
se van las nubes. Yo,
sueño que no sueño
dentro del surtidor.
Granada y 1850, Federico Garcia LorcaPedrohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04297663346594702644noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5185772.post-1070351866661448192003-12-02T07:57:00.001Z2003-12-02T07:58:39.246ZNarciso.
Tu olor.
Y el fondo del río.
Quiero quedarme a tu vera.
Flor del amor.
Narciso.
Por tus blancos ojos cruzan
ondas y peces dormidos.
Pájaros y mariposas
japonizan en los míos.
Tú diminuto y yo grande.
Flor del amor.
Narciso.
Las ranas, ¡qué listas son!
Pero no dejan tranquilo
el espejo en que se miran
tu delirio y mi delirio.
Narciso.
Mi dolor.
Y mi dolor mismo.
[Narciso], Pedrohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04297663346594702644noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5185772.post-1070351827648512652003-12-02T07:57:00.000Z2003-12-02T07:58:00.250ZTú querías que yo te dijera
el secreto de la primavera.
Y yo soy para el secreto
lo mismo que es el abeto.
Árbol cuyos mil deditos
señalan mil caminitos.
Nunca te diré, amor mío,
por qué corre lento el río.
Pero pondré en mi voz estancada
el cielo ceniza de tu mirada.
¡Dame vueltas, morenita!
Ten cuidado con mis hojitas.
Dame más vueltas alrededor,
jugando a la noria del amor.
¡Ay! Pedrohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04297663346594702644noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5185772.post-1070351792654620322003-12-02T07:56:00.001Z2003-12-02T07:57:25.250ZYa se ha abierto
la flor de la aurora.
(¿Recuerdas
el fondo de la tarde?)
El nardo de la luna
derrama su olor frío.
(¿Recuerdas
la mirada de agosto?)
Eco, Federico Garcia LorcaPedrohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04297663346594702644noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5185772.post-1070351763393977032003-12-02T07:56:00.000Z2003-12-02T07:56:56.000ZCuatro granados
tiene tu huerto.
(Toma mi corazón
nuevo.)
Cuatro cipreses
tendrá tu huerto.
(Toma mi corazón
viejo.)
Sol y luna.
Luego...
¡ni corazón
ni huerto!
Madrigalillo, Federico Garcia LorcaPedrohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04297663346594702644noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5185772.post-1070351635340482572003-12-02T07:53:00.000Z2003-12-02T07:54:47.983ZLa primera vez
no te conocí.
La segunda, sí.
Dime
si el aire te lo dice.
Mañanita fría
yo me puse triste,
y luego me entraron
ganas de reírme.
No te conocí.
Sí me conociste.
Sí te conocí.
No me conociste.
Ahora entre los dos
se alarga impasible,
un mes, como un
biombo de días grises.
La primera vez
no te conocí.
La segunda, sí.
En el instituto y en la universidad, Federico Garcia LorcaPedrohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04297663346594702644noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5185772.post-1070351558961302482003-12-02T07:52:00.000Z2003-12-02T07:53:31.623ZEn la mañana verde,
quería ser corazón.
Corazón.
Y en la tarde madura
quería ser ruiseñor.
Ruiseñor.
(Alma,
ponte color de naranja.
Alma,
ponte color de amor)
En la mañana viva,
yo quería ser yo.
Corazón.
Y en la tarde caída
quería ser mi voz.
Ruiseñor.
¡Alma,
ponte color naranja!
¡Alma,
ponte color de amor!
Cancioncilla del primer deseo, Federico Garcia LorcaPedrohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04297663346594702644noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5185772.post-1070276783279685542003-12-01T11:06:00.000Z2003-12-01T11:07:15.466ZL'Internationale
Debout les damnés de la terre
Debout les forçats de la faim
La raison tonne en son cratère
C'est l'éruption de la fin
Du passe faisons table rase
Foules, esclaves, debout, debout
Le monde va changer de base
Nous ne sommes rien, soyons tout
C'est la lutte finale
Groupons-nous, et demain (bis)
L'Internationale
Sera le genre humain
Il n'est pas de sauveurs suprêmes
Ni Dieu, ni Pedrohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04297663346594702644noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5185772.post-1069849449346636922003-11-26T12:24:00.000Z2003-11-26T12:24:54.746ZPart One
Excerpts from Gioconda's Diary
15 March 1924: Paris, Louvre Museum
At last I am bored with the Louvre Museum.
You can get fed up with boredom very fast.
I am fed up with my boredom.
And from the devastation inside me
I drew this lesson;
to visit
a museum is fine,
to be a museum piece is terrible!
In this palace that imprisons the past
I am Pedrohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04297663346594702644noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5185772.post-1069849001287978272003-11-26T12:16:00.000Z2003-11-26T12:17:26.780ZThe hair falling on your forehead
suddenly lifted.
Suddenly something stirred on the ground.
The trees are whispering
in the dark.
Your bare arms will be cold.
Far off
where we can't see,
the moon must be rising.
It hasn't reached us yet,
slipping through the leaves
to light up your shoulder.
But I know
aPedrohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04297663346594702644noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5185772.post-1068632563073094492003-11-12T10:22:00.000Z2003-11-12T19:15:52.700ZTarde lluviosa en gris cansado,
y sigue el caminar.
Los árboles marchitos.
Mi cuarto, solitario.
Y los retratos viejos
y el libro sin cortar...
Chorrea la tristeza por los muebles
y por el alma. Quizá
no tenga para mí Naturaleza
el pecho de cristal.
Y me duele la carne del corazón
y la carne del alma. Y al hablar,
se quedan mis palabras en el aire
como corchos sobre agua.
Sólo por tus ojos
Pedrohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04297663346594702644noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5185772.post-1068547411009550522003-11-11T10:43:00.000Z2003-11-11T10:47:42.903ZThere's no time to lose, I heard her say
Catch your dreams before they slip away
Dying all the time
Lose your dreams
And you will lose your mind.
Ain't life unkind?
Goodbye, Ruby Tuesday
Who could hang a name on you?
When you change with every new day
Still I'm gonna miss you...
Ruby Tuesday, Rolling StonesPedrohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04297663346594702644noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5185772.post-1067549363013341952003-10-30T21:29:00.000Z2003-10-30T21:29:32.450ZWhen you have nothing more to say, just drive
For a day all round the peninsula.
The sky is tall as over a runway,
The land without marks, so you will not arrive
But pass through, though always skirting landfall.
At dusk, horizons drink down sea and hill,
The ploughed field swallows the whitewashed gable
And you're in the dark again. Now recall
The glazed foreshore and silhouetted log,
That Pedrohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04297663346594702644noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5185772.post-1067330423434404252003-10-28T08:40:00.000Z2003-10-28T08:40:29.373ZI.
O WHAT can ail thee, knight-at-arms,
Alone and palely loitering?
The sedge has wither’d from the lake,
And no birds sing.
II.
O what can ail thee, knight-at-arms!
So haggard and so woe-begone?
The squirrel’s granary is full,
And the harvest’s done.
III.
I see a lily on thy brow
With anguish moist and fever dew,
And on thy cheeks a fading rose
Fast withereth too.
IV.
I met a Pedrohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04297663346594702644noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5185772.post-1066912964741631522003-10-23T13:42:00.000+01:002003-10-23T13:42:44.296+01:00Lady of silences
Calm and distressed
Torn and most whole
Rose of memory
Rose of forgetfulness
Exhausted and life-giving
Worried reposeful
The single Rose
Is now the Garden
Where all loves end
Terminate torment
Of love unsatisfied
The greater torment
Of love satisfied
End of the endless
Journey to no end
Conclusion of all that
Is inconclusible
Speech without word and
Word of no Pedrohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04297663346594702644noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5185772.post-1066836900705757292003-10-22T16:35:00.000+01:002003-10-22T16:35:00.543+01:00Hold my hand. Ouvi-te repetir esta frase dezenas de vezes, no caminho para o restaurante chines onde jantei. Hold my hand, dizias, e no entanto nao estavas aqui, nem ao meu lado, mas sim muito longe de mim. E no entanto perdia-se em mim a tua voz. Que eu ouvia com clareza e era, sem duvida alguma, a tua voz. Porque nao tiro entao as maos dos bolsos e coloco as tuas nas minhas maos? Porque nao Pedrohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04297663346594702644noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5185772.post-1066728120717081132003-10-21T10:22:00.000+01:002003-10-21T10:22:00.626+01:00 A MAN I praise that once in Tara's Hals
Said to the woman on his knees, "Lie still.
My hundredth year is at an end. I think
That something is about to happen, I think
That the adventure of old age begins.
To many women I have said, ""Lie still,''
And given everything a woman needs,
A roof, good clothes, passion, love perhaps,
But never asked for love; should I ask that,
I shall be old Pedrohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04297663346594702644noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5185772.post-1066668361318283322003-10-20T17:46:00.000+01:002003-10-20T17:46:00.856+01:00Chega-me um e-mail que diz exactamente isto:
Quando os jornalistas perguntam ao Durão Barroso o que pensa sobre as polémicas ligadas ao caso Casa Pia, a resposta é invariavelmente um cínico "não comento casos que estão na alçada dos tribunais". Infelizmente, parece que neste país não há jornalistas inteligentes. Ou melhor, só têm inteligência para andar atrás dos calcanhares de pedrosos e Pedrohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04297663346594702644noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5185772.post-1066389735241410732003-10-17T12:22:00.000+01:002003-10-17T12:22:54.783+01:00Es curioso. La democracia se resume en votar y pagar impuestos. La democracia avanzada. Votas para elegir una política y pagas para garantizar el orden o el desorden social, según los gustos. No se te olvide mandarme el talón del segundo plazo.
- Pagar los impuestos me quita el poco humor que tengo. Pago para que no haya sorpresas. Ya sólo pueden sorprenderte los restaurantes nuevos y la gente Pedrohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04297663346594702644noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5185772.post-1066383219318968162003-10-17T10:33:00.000+01:002003-10-17T10:33:39.193+01:00O quam te memorem virgo…
Stand on the highest pavement of the stair -
Lean on a garden urn -
Weave, weave the sunlight in your hair -
Clasp your flowers to you with a pained suprise -
Fling them to the ground and turn
With a fugitive resentment in your eyes:
But weave, weave the sunlight in your hair.
So I would have had him leave,
So I would have had her stand and grieve,
So he would have leftPedrohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04297663346594702644noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5185772.post-1066204438282127652003-10-15T08:53:00.000+01:002003-10-15T08:53:57.723+01:00Me gustas cuando callas porque estás como ausente,
y me oyes desde lejos, y mi voz no te toca.
Parece que los ojos se te hubieran volado
y parece que un beso te cerrara la boca.
Como todas las cosas están llenas de mi alma,
emerges de las cosas, llena del alma mía.
Mariposa de sueño, te pareces a mi alma,
y te pareces a la palabra melancolía.
Me gustas cuando callas y estás como Pedrohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04297663346594702644noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5185772.post-1066124307057876232003-10-14T10:38:00.000+01:002003-10-14T10:38:26.730+01:00As you plaited the harvest bow
You implicated the mellowed silence in you
In wheat that does not rust
But brightens as it tightens twist by twist
Into a knowable corona,
A throwaway love-knot of straw.
Hands that aged round ashplants and cane sticks
And lapped the spurs on a lifetime of game cocks
Harked to their gift and worked with fine intent
Until your fingers moved somnambulant:
IPedrohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04297663346594702644noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5185772.post-1058527475195853892003-07-18T12:24:00.000+01:002003-07-18T12:25:51.370+01:00Fiscalidade para iniciantes – Aula 1
Impostos a pagar ao Estado: no dia 6/7 de cada mês paga-se o IVA referente ao mês t-2. No dia 15, ou no dia útil seguinte, paga-se a TSU. O IRS é pago no dia 20. O Imposto de Selo no dia 31, referente ao mês t-1. O IRC por conta paga-se nos meses Julho, Setembro e Dezembro. O PEC do IRC é pago até ao dia 15 de Julho, e nos meses de Novembro de Fevereiro.
Só Pedrohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04297663346594702644noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5185772.post-1058514638983290112003-07-18T08:50:00.000+01:002003-07-18T08:50:38.800+01:00Nearly 1200 sites of historical and archaeological importance along the Yangtze River are now underwater as the first stage of China’s massively ambitious Three Gorges Dam hydro-electric project reached completion on schedule. On 1 June the waters began rising in the huge 375 miles long reservoir created by the 185 metre high and two kilometre wide dam.
Archaeological discoveries made during thePedrohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04297663346594702644noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5185772.post-1058513608302816322003-07-18T08:33:00.000+01:002003-07-18T08:33:28.226+01:00Morse – To tell you some truth, I don’t know what’s going on at all. But worse, I don’t care about Cryer’s death, I don’t care about his crimes. One bunch of unscrupulous charlatans ripping off another bunch of credulous speculators. That’s a definition of capitalism, isn’t it? It certainly doesn’t get my adrenaline flowing.Pedrohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04297663346594702644noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5185772.post-1058453084532526952003-07-17T15:44:00.000+01:002003-07-17T15:45:39.206+01:00Informação aos passageiros: o Krasnaja Strela encontra-se estacionado no binário 1 da Estação Central.Pedrohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04297663346594702644noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5185772.post-1058427647034913292003-07-17T08:40:00.000+01:002003-07-17T08:40:47.030+01:00Morse - The arena, Lewis. Built by the Romans for their games. Carnage and brutality. Now it's an opera house. I could almost believe in progress.
O De Esquerda vai para férias. Sem a promessa de regressar. Divirtam-se.
Pedrohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04297663346594702644noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5185772.post-1058373076908763752003-07-16T17:31:00.000+01:002003-07-16T17:31:16.833+01:00When the rich die last
Like the rabbits
Running from a lucky past
Full of shadow cunning
And the world lights up
For the final day
We will all be poor
Having had our say
Put a blanket up on the window pane
When the baby cries lullaby again
As the light goes out on the final day
For the people who never had a say
There is so much noise
There is too much heat
And the living floor
Pedrohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04297663346594702644noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5185772.post-1058345013189337732003-07-16T09:43:00.000+01:002003-07-16T09:49:29.493+01:00Em Inglaterra o número de casos de crianças desaparecidas em consequência de contactos com outras pessoas, frequentemente adultos, em chats na internet, ultrapassa o número 25 e tornou-se um fenómeno mediático com o recente desaparecimento de uma rapariga de 12 anos, que terá fugido com um soldado norte-americano de 31 anos. Na sequência deste caso, a consciência pública alarmada alerta para os Pedrohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04297663346594702644noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5185772.post-1058288992899147252003-07-15T18:09:00.000+01:002003-07-15T18:27:57.956+01:00Há na Direita quem leia os posts de Esquerda como bem lhe convém. Repare-se no comentário que o Whisky 2000 faz ao nosso post sobre os unabombers que atacam os comboios. Só o temor de uma vitória da Esquerda ou de uma revolução, a Revolução no entendimento do amigo do whisky, é que o permitem relacionar a citação da notícia da CNN com um alegado e subentendido apoio tácito aos comandos maoístas Pedrohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04297663346594702644noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5185772.post-1058283789426789412003-07-15T16:43:00.000+01:002003-07-15T16:43:09.406+01:00 LULA
You know there’s somethin’ I ain’t
never told you about, Sailor, and
this here’s a story with the lesson
that there’s a right time and a
wrong time for things to happen...
When I was almost sixteen I got pregnant.
Sailor looks her in the eyes.
SAILOR
Musta been a lesson tellin’ ya it
was the wrong time... What did you
do, your mama find out?
LULA
Pedrohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04297663346594702644noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5185772.post-1058282472225975622003-07-15T16:21:00.000+01:002003-07-15T16:30:02.616+01:00The report also recommends an end to the ban on non-Anglicans or anyone who marries a Catholic mounting the throne, and an end to the preference in succession given to younger brothers over elder sisters.
O think tank britânico de esquerda, a Fabian Society, sugere que a família real britânica pague mais impostos e se aproxime do contribuinte ordinário. As monarquias têm de se modernizar para Pedrohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04297663346594702644noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5185772.post-1058281354468419852003-07-15T16:02:00.000+01:002003-07-15T16:02:34.436+01:00O acesso ao nuclear deveria significar a entrada no grupo restrito de países desenvolvidos que utilizam esta tecnologia como forma de produção de energia a baixo custo. A realidade mostra-nos que o recurso ao nuclear surge como forma de alavancar o peso internacional de um pequeno país isolado da economia global, casos do Irão e Coreia do Sul. A ameaça nuclear destes dois países reside na opção Pedrohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04297663346594702644noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5185772.post-1058260466212017012003-07-15T10:14:00.000+01:002003-07-15T17:26:35.803+01:00Pela manhã a notícia do Maoist Coordination Committee, que na Índia anda a dinamitar as linhas de comboio. Imagino logo os rebeldes maoístas a cavalgarem em direcção ao comboio de passageiros, tipo Lawrence da Arábia.
A realidade passa por um grupo de rebeldes que rebentam os carris, algures na fronteira com o Nepal. Após vários ataques a comboios de baixa velocidade, os rebeldes maoístas Pedrohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04297663346594702644noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5185772.post-1058170771268235162003-07-14T09:19:00.000+01:002003-07-14T14:28:26.416+01:00"The British government has learned that Saddam Hussein recently sought significant quantities of uranium from Africa." - From Bush's 2003 State of the Union Address
No passado dia 11 o director da CIA assumiu o erro de ter passado ao Presidente Norte-Americano a informação que se reproduz acima, 16 palavras que levantam muitas dúvidas entre os americanos, que acusam Bush que ter conduzido o Pedrohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04297663346594702644noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5185772.post-1058168868209694132003-07-14T08:47:00.000+01:002003-07-14T08:51:52.273+01:00O a.deo.dato ingressou no Santa Ignorânica. Um blog onde se promete um toque gay o que certamente irá dar que falar na blogsfera lusa. Leio por lá que há quem lamente não poder ver em directo todas as etapas da Volta à França, o que serve de tónico para a minha manhã.Pedrohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04297663346594702644noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5185772.post-1057924415241528962003-07-11T12:53:00.000+01:002003-07-11T12:53:35.206+01:00Aumento o volume do stereo e reduzo a velocidade. Em todo o habitáculo do meu carro está a voz de Will Oldham, assustadora. Por vezes grita e uiva enquanto canta. Master and Everyone, de um alter-ego Bonnie ‘Prince’ Billy. Assustador. Excelente. What role does traditional love hold in the modern world? How does one reconcile the undeniable evil in us all?, escreve a BBC sobre este álbum, Pedrohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04297663346594702644noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5185772.post-1057912149496869642003-07-11T09:29:00.000+01:002003-07-11T09:30:42.416+01:00Faz o que eu digo, mas por favor não digas o que eu faço
Este parece ser o mote dos empreendimentos imobiliários do Partido Comunista Português. Vem no Público de hoje e está aqui.
Contrariamente ao determinado por lei, o cartaz de obra afixado no local é omisso no que respeita às características do novo edifício, seja no que respeita a área de construção, número de pisos ou de fogos. O Pedrohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04297663346594702644noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5185772.post-1057909997043878862003-07-11T08:53:00.000+01:002003-07-11T08:53:46.153+01:00O DN refere a aprovação, no parlamento francês, de uma lei que prevê a aplicação de uma coima máxima de 150 euros a quem venda tabaco a menores de 16 anos. Soa bem, mas não passa de uma media vazia.
Segundo a União Europeia, «60% dos fumadores adquirem o hábito de fumar antes dos 13 anos e 90% antes dos 18». Os volumes legislativos são colecções de leis bem intencionadas, mas que aplicabilidade Pedrohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04297663346594702644noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5185772.post-1057908838550297452003-07-11T08:33:00.000+01:002003-07-11T08:36:07.966+01:00A rádio TSF, noticiava hoje de manhã um relatório sobre a captura da private Lynch, que todos vimos, na televisão, ser regatada de um hospital iraquiano por tropas do exército norte-americano. Ao que parece o conjunto de viaturas estaria perdido e a passar pela segunda vez pela cidade de Nasiriya, depois de vários desvios ao percurso, três dias sem dormir e as armas encravadas. Na emboscada Pedrohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04297663346594702644noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5185772.post-1057858375178068322003-07-10T18:32:00.000+01:002003-07-10T18:41:09.090+01:00Ainda sobre as pedreiras e o Abrupto:
O problema das pedreiras está relacionado com outro muito mais importante, que consiste no crescimento urbano em redor e sobre as zonas industriais. As empresas instalam-se em terrenos que existem para o efeito e que se designam zonas industriais. Quando não existiam parques industriais nem zonas industriais, existiam indústrias, que se estabeleciam perto Pedrohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04297663346594702644noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5185772.post-1057851746983334612003-07-10T16:42:00.000+01:002003-07-10T16:50:37.006+01:00O dinamarquês dogmático Thomas Vinterberg tem um filme que promete estrear brevemente em Portugal, It’s All About Love. Esta semana vi o trailer no cinema e fiquei curioso. Pesquiso na net e encontro uma série de críticas devastadoras, que reduzem ao pequeno ecrã a minha intenção de ir ao cinema ver este filme.
After the Saturday evening screening, director Thomas Vinterberg took some questions,Pedrohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04297663346594702644noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5185772.post-1057845955660607722003-07-10T15:05:00.000+01:002003-07-10T15:11:44.570+01:00Hoje uma parte da minha manhã foi ocupada por consultores, esses parasitas do sistema capitalista. Os consultores são todos iguais, tipos de fato sóbrio com gravatas onde há sempre algum elemento a vermelho, para assinalar que ainda estão vivos. Espetam-nos com powerpoints de meia hora, divididos em várias partes, mas servidos como bolo único e intragável. Os fundos azuis, as letras coloridas e Pedrohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04297663346594702644noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5185772.post-1057827307164890882003-07-10T09:55:00.000+01:002003-07-10T09:55:06.993+01:00Na BT nada de novo:
Mais de 150 militares da Brigada de Trânsito da GNR foram hoje acusados pelo Ministério Público (MP) pela prática de vários crimes de corrupção passiva, disse à agência Lusa fonte judicial.
Esta acusação a 150 militares traduz o descrédito a que chegaram as forças de segurança. Na ausência de meios dignos e com salários miseráveis, as forças de segurança cedem mais Pedrohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04297663346594702644noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5185772.post-1057751003763289012003-07-09T12:43:00.000+01:002003-07-09T12:51:44.703+01:00Aqui está uma notícia importante: A nova lei representa um autêntica revolução, especialmente nos processos cíveis para cobrança de dívidas de baixo valor. Será sobre estas que as taxas de justiça mais se agravarão, chegando a atingir 70 % de aumento. Se devedor quiser contraditar a acção terá mesmo de pagar a taxa de justiça, caso contrário o juiz retirará do processo os documentos referentes Pedrohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04297663346594702644noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5185772.post-1057651541503093022003-07-08T09:05:00.000+01:002003-07-08T09:10:23.246+01:00Grande Prémio da Semana da Crítica, Prémio do Público e recomendação do Complot. Baseado numa história verídica, um pouco romanceada na versão cinema, Respiro é um filme sobre um pedaço de terra flutuante, entre a Europa e África, uma história de uma ilhota italiana que pode ser Lampedusa ou qualquer outra ainda mais afastada. É uma história sobre uma aldeia de pescadores, onde as famílias são Pedrohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04297663346594702644noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5185772.post-1057569117127439632003-07-07T10:11:00.000+01:002003-07-07T13:02:25.380+01:00O DN noticia uma decisão judicial importante e cujos desenvolvimentos aguardamos com muito interesse.
O Tribunal Administrativo do Círculo do Porto classificou de «ilegalidade muito grave» a autorização de construção dada pela autarquia ao empreendimento durante a presidência de Fernando Gomes, «em violação das próprias regras que (os próprios agentes do Estado) fizeram aprovar para regular a Pedrohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04297663346594702644noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5185772.post-1057563176149329552003-07-07T08:32:00.000+01:002003-07-07T13:19:29.936+01:00Ali ao lado acaba a Europa. Depois existe apenas um enorme lago azul, onde uma pirâmide dourada flutua e muda de forma em cada onda. Ter-te-ia trazido aqui, se o teu carro não tivesse seguido o seu curso diferente da curva da estrada. Estarias sentada aqui perto, os olhos fechados, os ouvidos atentos de quem quer engolir o mar. No caminho que serpenteia o mar só encontro turistas, cruzo Pedrohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04297663346594702644noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5185772.post-1057334301190496912003-07-04T16:58:00.000+01:002003-07-07T16:17:47.966+01:00Bom fim de semana e recomenda-se o caminho da salvação: De DireitaManuel Pinheirohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02753328447107401271noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5185772.post-1057306084550012003-07-04T09:08:00.000+01:002003-07-04T09:11:53.970+01:00Tom Tom Club live @ The Clubhouse é o pick of the day. Disco duplo, soberbo, matriz de ritmos latinos, funk, dub, pop. Muito agradável, para ouvir repetidamente durante o fim de semana. A caminho da praia, na selva urbana, pílula para as filas de trânsito e os azelhas que ameaçam espetar-se contra nós. Tome o seu suboceana aqui.
Let's go suboceana
To the place where fish sleep
Down, deep, down Pedrohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04297663346594702644noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5185772.post-1057305237586263982003-07-04T08:53:00.000+01:002003-07-04T08:53:57.563+01:00E agora?
Cientistas norte-americanos criaram um embrião humano hermafrodita em laboratório, ao injectar células masculinas num embrião feminino, lê-se no Público.Pedrohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04297663346594702644noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5185772.post-1057241809624041862003-07-03T15:16:00.000+01:002003-07-03T15:49:25.760+01:00O Comprometido Espectador escreve "Nanni Moretti, esse tosco cineasta?". Não fosse o nome do blog outro e eu não diria nada, mas a um espectador comprometido que afirma que Nanni Moretti é um tosco cineasta, não podemos pedir outra coisa que não a mudança de nome para O Espectador Distraído. Recordo-me da última visita de Marcello Mastroianni à Cinemateca Portuguesa e da sua resposta à pergunta Pedrohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04297663346594702644noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5185772.post-1057231833453688962003-07-03T12:30:00.000+01:002003-07-03T12:30:33.443+01:00Amanhã ou depois partiremos e reporemos a verdade. Instauraremos uma nova hierarquia, imporemos a nossa ordem, socialmente incorrecta e injusta, imporemos a nossa vontade, que se fará verdade. Roubaremos, mataremos e tudo nos será permitido. Será permitido roubar e violar, proclamaremos a violência, o sangue a moeda oficial. Sublevaremos as classes e instauraremos a desconfiança. O direito à Pedrohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04297663346594702644noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5185772.post-1057220262001284222003-07-03T09:17:00.000+01:002003-07-03T12:10:28.390+01:00Berlusconi foi ontem ao PE desmistificar o PE como instituição harmoniosa onde os políticos se entendem e os acordos são sempre simples, fáceis e imediatos. As imagens do hemiciclo europeu mostram-nos sempre uma câmara austera e tranquila, imagem que Berlusconi alterou ao inflamar alguns euro deputados com quem dividiu as picardias.
Começou por chamar alguns eurodeputados ”turistas da Pedrohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04297663346594702644noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5185772.post-1057162914962591882003-07-02T17:21:00.000+01:002003-07-02T17:22:35.850+01:00Agarro a tua mão que se deixa cair. Torno a colocar-te a mão sobre o peito, entrelaçada na outra, sob o sorriso do teu olhar fechado sobre mim. A teu lado, encosto a minha voz ao teu corpo, deixando que o teu silêncio me contagie e me domine. Aos poucos, com calma, sem pressas, entre uma festa e um olhar meu dissipado pela tua implacável paz. Aí o tempo parece não chegar e a tua mão despida de Pedrohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04297663346594702644noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5185772.post-1057161152829199722003-07-02T16:52:00.000+01:002003-07-02T16:52:32.633+01:00Sento-me e o dia passa por mim sem que me aperceba. Por mim passam, de manhã, estes putos que correm com as mochilas às costas, que se seguem e se perseguem, que lutam entre si no intervalo e se empurram nas paragens dos autocarros. Por mim passam estas gentes que nunca vêem ninguém, que caminham com os olhos no chão e o sorriso perdido do dia anterior. Por mim passa a manhã e o frio entre o Pedrohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04297663346594702644noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5185772.post-1057135049898742312003-07-02T09:37:00.000+01:002003-07-02T09:38:01.653+01:00"Agora vou apanhar mais um avião, fazer mais uma corrida, mais uma viagem, como nos carrinhos de feira e, com o céu limpo, durante vinte minutos, ver a destruição por cima, sob a forma das pedreiras ferindo tudo o que é monte ou colina, alastrando de castanho amarelado no meio do verde, às dezenas e dezenas entre Lisboa e Coimbra. Faz pena.
Se alguém fizer, ou se já existir um movimento contra Pedrohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04297663346594702644noreply@blogger.com