Não é desgraça ser pobre.

Não é desgraça ser pobre
não é desgraça ser louca
desgraça é trazer o fado
no coração e na boca
Nesta vida desvairada
ser feliz é coisa pouca
se as loucas não sentem nada
não é desgraça ser louca
Ao nascer trouxe uma estrela
nela o destino traçado
não foi desgraça trazê-la
desgraça é trazer o fado
Desgraça é andar a gente
de tanto cantar já rouca
e o fado teimosamente
no coração e na boca

Telerrealidad.


Television portraits, Paul Graham.

TELE-PHOBIA

I fear I’m becoming a social pariah,
And everyone says my condition is dire.
Wherever I go I meet scorn and derision,
For the terrible truth is-I’ve gone off television!

I’m fed up with Taggart, and Poirot and Morse,
Burnside and Tosh and the rest of the Force;
Rapes, robberies and killings I no longer seek,
And no one’s been laid in my lounge for a week!

I don’t drink at the Vic or the Rovers Return,
And I don’t give a monkey’s if London does burn.
What’s happening on Brookside I really don’t care,
For I’ve washed all those soaps right out of my hair.

Loveable Lovejoy I’m learning to hate;
I don’t bother to turn up for Cilla’s Blind Date
The Late Show’s too late, The Big Breakfast too hearty,
And I’ve torn up my invite to Noel’s House Party!

I’m allergic to chat-shows with their self-styled mentors,
Agony aunts and demented presenters.
I wake up at night with a scream and a shout,
Dreaming that Jeremy Beadle’s about.

Attenbrough’s animals, Birds of a Feather,
I’ve poisoned them all, with the gnus…and the weather.
My bell’s disconnected, my phone’s off the hook;
If anyone calls, say…I’m reading a Book!

Normand Ford.

Actualizado para Cristina, la única que se mantiene cuerda entre tanta información televisiva.

Fiabilidad.

In relation to men and women, our most basic stereotypical expectation is simply that they will be different rather than the same. We actively look for differences, and seek out resources which discuss them. Faced with claims like BT’s ‘men stand up to make phone calls whereas women sit down’, our first reaction is more likely to be ‘how interesting’ than ‘what nosense’ or ‘who cares?’ We are much less attentive to, and less interested in hearing about, similarities between men and women. And this has consequences, not only for our everyday conversations, but also for what goes on in the supposedly more objective realm of science.

Most rearch studies investigating the behaviour of men and women are designed around the question: ‘is there a difference?’-and the presumption is usually that there will be. If a study finds a significant difference between male and fenale subjects(in other words, a result which statistical tests show could not have been produced by chance), that is considered to be a ‘positive’ finding, and has a good chance of being published in a scientific journal. A study which finds no significant differences is less likely to be published. This means that some negative findings are never even submitted for publication. It also means that if a study has examined a large number of variables and found positive results for only one or two of them, it will be the least typical, positive findings which the researchers emphasize.

The preference for positive findings is on one level understable. A report which says, in essence, ‘we looked for something and didn’t find it’ does not make for compelling reading. But if the research was competently designed and carried out, whatever it finds must surely count as knowledge. ‘Men and women did not perform any differently on task X’ is no less a fact than ‘men and women performed significantly differently on task X’. If findings that confirm male-female differences get published more often than findings that disconfirm those differences, the resulting research literature will systematically distort the picture.

Deborah Cameron, “The Myth of Mars and Venus”.

I do.

When I’m done with thinking, then I’m done with you
When I’m done with crying, then I’m done with you
When I feel so tired, then I’m done with you
Everybody feels this way sometimes, everybody feels this way.

And I do.
Wou can hear it, but I do.
You can hear it, but I do.

You’re trying to convince me that what I’ve done’s not right
I get so frustrated, I stay up every night.
You ask me for an answer, and I’m so tired and I’m up in the air.
Everybody feels this way sometimes, everybody feels this way

And I do.
You can’t hear it but I do
You can’t hear it, but I’m feeling this way just because you say

I will be ignored
I will be denied
I could be erased
I could be brushed aside
I will get scared, and I will get shoved down
but I feel like I do because you push me around.

And I do
You can’t hear it but I do
You don’t seem angry but I do
I do.

I know the only one for me can only be you.

The more I see you,
The more I want you.
Somehow this feeling
Just grows and grows.
With every sigh I become more mad about you,
More lost without you,
And so it goes.
Can you imagine
How much I’ll love you
The more I see you
As years go by?
I know the only one for me can only be you.
My arms won’t free you;
My heart won’t try.

Elegancia.

If the stars were mine
I’d give them all to you
I’d pluck them down right from the sky
and leave it only blue
I would never let the sun forget to shine upon your face
so when others would have rain clouds you’d have only sunny days
If the stars were mine
I’d tell you what I’d do
I’d put the stars right in a jar and give ‘em all to you

If the birds were mine
I’d tell them when to sing
I’d make them sing a sonnet when your telephone would ring
I would put them there inside the square, whenever you went out
so there’d always be sweet music whenever you would walk about
If the birds were mine
I’d tell you what I’d do
I’d teach the birds such lovely words and make ‘em sing for you
I’d teach the birds such lovely words and make ‘em sing for you

If the world was mine
I’d paint it gold and green
I’d make the oceans orange for a brilliant color scheme
I would color all the mountains, make the sky forever blue
So the world would be a painting and I’d live inside with you
If the world was mine
I’d tell you what I’d do
I’d wrap the world in ribbons and then give it all to you
I’d teach the birds such lovely words and make ‘em sing for you
I’d put those stars right in a jar…and……….
give them all…to you…….

Song.

When I am dead, my dearest,
Sing no sad songs for me;
Plant thou no roses at my head,
Nor shady cypress tree:
Be the green grass above me
With showers and dewdrops wet;
And if thou wilt, remember,
And if thou wilt, forget.

I shall not see the shadows,
I shall not feel the rain;
I shall not hear the nightingale
Sing on, as if in pain:
And dreaming through the twilight
That doth not rise nor set,
Haply I may remember,
And haply may forget.

Christina Georgina Rossetti.