Wallace Barboza

2012-02-01T13:37:00.001-08:00

Great opportunity to network in our local ELT community!

2011-07-28T05:36:00.000-07:00

2011-05-24T17:56:00.001-07:00

2011-05-20T18:19:00.000-07:00

My fifth graders loved using Xtranormal to create a movie about Benjamin Franklin.

2011-05-07T09:34:00.001-07:00

"One day at a time--this is enough. Do not look back and grieve over the past for it is gone; and do not be troubled about the future, for it has not yet come. Live in the present, and make it so beautiful it will be worth remembering.” - Ida Scott Taylor

Šťastné Velikonoce! 幸せイースター Buona Pasqua! ¡Felices Pascuas! Paşte fericit! عيد فصح سعيد Честит Великден Feliz Páscoa! Happy Easter! 复活节快乐

2011-04-24T10:49:00.001-07:00

"Life is not measured by the number of breaths we take, but by the moments that take our breath away!" - Unknown

2011-04-21T18:21:00.001-07:00

I'm Watching You Dad - For All Parents

2011-04-20T13:41:00.000-07:00

Clouding My Blog/Delicious URL

2011-03-28T17:13:00.000-07:00

Here is my response to Dave Dodgson's mini-challenge based on Wordle word clouds. Since I changed my blog's domain recently, I decided to use my Delicious account to do so.

My word cloud shows that I have been focusing my writing on the one thing I love the most, teaching. It also shows that professional, ideas, articles, writing, lesson, content, learning, activities, and development have been frequent topics that permeate my writing.

As far as vocabulary is concerned, it shows that the aforementioned words have been too frequent in the great scheme of things that my blog has turned out to be. Although these words reveal themes repeatedly written in my posts, the rest of my word cloud shows that I have, somehow, articulated and changed my own vocabulary to compose my posts since the creation of my blog.

The one thing that surprised me the most was the fact that the word "English"turned out not to be one of the most used words, showing a shift in my academic perspective. I have been focusing on ways of going above and beyond my ESL classroom in order to provide children with multiple opportunities to succeed in life.

Give it a try and surprise yourself!

Wallace :0)

Montagnard Weaving: Warping Lesson

2011-03-25T15:36:00.000-07:00

My Award-Winning Nonfiction Story

2011-03-25T15:06:00.000-07:00

1st Place in Nonfiction by the North Carolina College Media Association - NCCMA 2010

My Neighborhood Memoirs

by Wallace Barboza

Paved streets, intersection, potholes here and there, dogs barking now and then, ten houses to the left, ten to the right; these are some of the things one is able to see out of the front door of the house I grew up in.

I grew up in a neighborhood on the west side of Gama, one of the satellite cities of the Brazilian Federal District, in which an array of colorful and different iron bars block not only windows, but also the gates of each house. Brasília was designed, planned and built for an estimated population of eight hundred thousand inhabitants. As many people left their home states to come and build the capital of Brazil, they ended up staying in the region. This has only overcrowded the city. Thus, Juscelino Kubitschek decided to begin building cities outside the capital city in order to accommodate all those so called Candangos, name given to those who migrated from other states to Brasília.

People say that all this was done for safety matters. Brasília, located thirty-five minutes away from my mom's house, was built in 1960 to accommodate the Federal District of Brazil due to security matters. The capital of Brazil moved from Rio de Janeiro, located by the coast in the southeast region, to the Central Plateau, in the central-west region. All this was done during Juscelino Kubitschek‘s mandate. He was the Brazilian president at that time

Long ago, there were two major gangs: Balão Mágico (BM), whose members lived on the east side, and Mavoca (M), whose leaders and a couple of members lived on this street. Any retaliation coming from BM would be an invitation to break into all my neighbors' houses. However, this was something that happened when I was too young to fathom it. Nowadays, what you see are kids at play on that old paved street.

Most of the games they play are very simple and do not require any special or expensive equipment. My favorite game, was called Bandeirinha (or little flag) a two-team game in which the main objective was to steal the opponent team‘s little flag. If somebody from the opposite team attempted to steal my team‘s little flag, I could freeze them by simply touching them. To set the player free from my freezing spell, somebody from his team had to come and touch him. It was so much fun, indeed! Today, kids still play it, but they lack the innocence I had in those imaginary and yet powerful years of my childhood.

On the left side of my house, there was a wide sidewalk where transients walk back and forth all day long. Sometimes, I used to sit by the curb to look at all the different kinds of people who would come up or down the street. They were people who lived on the street below mine.

They were usually going to work, to school. Only a few were going for a walk, and I could tell by their outfit. By sitting there, I would also sense the coming of an unusual vendor who would always ride his bike and shout ―Quebra Queeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeixo!‖ all the way down the street. He was an old black man whose hair was completely gray. His smile was pure and he never complained about anything. Life was not easy for that fellow. Riding that bike after spending hours in front of the stove making that sweet delicacy was definitely too hard for a man his age. What he shouted was the name of a homemade coconut caramel bar, which I still love. It is so chewy, hard and very sticky which is why it is called Quebra, break, Queixo, chin. I would spend almost one hour trying to eat it and yet I would save some for a rainy day, literally. His sweet and enchanting shout was silenced by the thunderstorms. Therefore, we always hoped for better sunny days to bring him back to brighten our days with that unique candy bar.

Crossing the street, on that same side, was Mrs. Ana's house. Ana was an old neighbor of ours who claimed that our television was the devil's eye, but loved coming over to watch every chapter of the eight o'clock soap opera. She never missed any of the chapters and she was able to retell the whole soap opera by heart. As I grew up, I began not to like her views towards many things, especially because she tried to convince us that her religion was the one and only that could save us from hell. This just made me avoid her whenever she attempted to come and talk about her religious points of view and how the black veil on the women‘s heads at her church was essential, and so on and so forth. She loved gossiping. She knew about anyone and everyone's lives. She could even tell who was cheating on whom and who would divorce. I have always seen her as an evil witch. She even had a big black round pimple that scared all of us. Once, one of my friends, Gustavo, placed a broomstick at her front door and rang her doorbell. She was furious, but we were laughing our heads off while watching from Mom's roof.

On the other side lived a very quiet man whose voice could not be heard when he greeted us in the morning. He had two children and his wife was like a shadow. No one ever saw her out of the house. I could hardly see her on my way to the bakery. Their house looked like a slum house. No paint or gate, not even bars for their own safety. Unfortunately, on a Friday night, after arguing with another drunk man at a bar, Mr. Silence went back home and grabbed a knife. He headed back to the bar and stabbed that one drunk man in the heart because he was saying that Mr. Silence was not a manly man. Poor Mrs. Silence had to raise her children all by herself for four and a half years working two shifts at the gas station convenience store. Eventually, Mr. Silence left prison and became a minister at Mrs. Ana's church. I could never imagine such a thing, but some things in life are inexplicable.

Right in front of my mom's house lived Mrs. Neuza, a sweet old lady who used to make the best homemade ice pop on that side of the town. Kids would come from all over the town to buy her sweet goodies. She had a cute little house that looked like a doll's house, just like those you can find at the local grocery store in Gama-DF. As she got old, she began to lose her memory. She began talking to herself and throwing things at people's heads whenever they passed by her door. One day, she woke up and went outside completely naked. I remember her granddaughter, Vana, covering her with a white blanket that resembled the color of her aged hair. Eventually, she died sweeping the garden on a rainy day. All the people, especially kids, felt the absence of her sweetness.

Behind my mother‘s house a lady called Madalena, known as a great chef, lived with her three children and her husband in a house that looked just like Mom's. She was the one who made most of our birthday cakes. Creativity was her last name. She was able to make all cartoon characters such as Mickey, Minnie, and Pluto on delicious layered cake frame. Kids also loved her sweets. My favorite was called cajuzinho, little cashew. It was made with peanuts, sugar and condensed milk. She would assemble it just like the real cashews Mrs. Neuza used to have in her orchard. I can still recall how thrilled I would get on my birthday parties whenever Mom headed to Mrs. Madalena's house.

Down the street, there was a bakery owned by Mrs. Aparecida, who worked as nurse with Mom at the city's public hospital. Her French roll recipe was the best in town. I could smell that hot fresh baked French roll from my bedroom window everyday at five o'clock. It was then when Mom would ask me to go down the street and bring her half a dozen fresh baked ones for our afternoon snack.

There was also a beauty salon, whose owner's daughter, Renata, used to go to school with me. We studied together for three years. It was cool to go to her place and have her mom cut my hair for free.

Across from the beauty salon, there was a bar, whose owner, Mr. Jarbas, knew our family for so long. My father was his best friend and they used to go fishing on the weekends. They would come back on Sunday afternoon with a huge cooler filled with all types of fish. It was great to help Mom cut and clean all of those delicious fish.

On the corner, there was a candy shop whose owner, Mr. Cicero, a very kind man, would always greet us with a flavorful lollipop. The one thing I still remember is that I never knew how much the candies cost. This was due to the fact that our currency in Brazil has changed many times as I grew up. Since I was four, back in 1984, until the present day, the currency changed from Cruzeiro(Cr$) with cents to Cruzeiro(Cr$) without cents; from Cruzado(Cz$) with the return of the cents to Cruzado Novo(NCz$); from Cruzeiro(Cr$) to Cruzeiro Real(CR$), and finally from Cruzeiro Real(CR$) to Real(R$). That is why it was so hard to know how much a lollipop cost during my childhood when visiting Mr. Cicero's candy shop.

Many of those people have moved or passed since I got married and moved from that lovely neighborhood. I loved playing on the street and then having one of Mrs. Neuza's coconut ice pops or one or Mr. Cicero‘s sweet-and-sour lollipops. Those were, without a doubt, the best days of my life.

Doing a Dogme lesson by Scott Thornbury

2011-03-25T14:54:00.001-07:00

Dogme myths by Scott Thornbury

2011-03-25T14:54:00.000-07:00

M is for Method by Scott Thornbury

2011-03-25T14:52:00.000-07:00

P is for PPP by Scott Thornbury

2011-03-25T14:51:00.000-07:00

A is for Aspect by Scott Thornbury

2011-03-25T14:49:00.000-07:00

Hugh Laurie: the British accent vs the American

2011-03-24T21:19:00.000-07:00

35 Accents in the English Language

2011-03-24T21:09:00.000-07:00

From Michelle, One of My Brazilian Friends

2011-03-24T09:18:00.000-07:00

Check out this SlideShare Presentation:

2011-03-17T08:37:00.001-07:00

The Truth About eBooks: Devices, Formats, Pirates (Oh, My!)

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2011-03-17T08:34:00.001-07:00

8 Easy Steps to Self Publishing Books from Your Website Content

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2011-03-17T08:32:00.001-07:00

I Phone Sdk 3 Programming

View more documents from Huy Le Quoc.

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2011-03-17T08:31:00.001-07:00

The Amazon Kindle, the iPhone and the SDK

View more presentations from Mike Qaissaunee.

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2011-03-17T08:30:00.001-07:00

Best Practice iPhone SDK App Design

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2011-03-16T18:28:00.001-07:00

Great Opportunity for Students from South America at INTERLINK UNCG

2011-03-02T11:55:00.000-08:00

The INTERLINK Language Center at The University of North Carolina at Greensboro is pleased to offer ESL scholarships to qualified applicants from South America who need to improve their English language proficiency in order to succeed in their academic studies.

With few current students from South America in our program, our center offers a good place to learn
English without temptations to use Spanish or Portuguese language.

INTERLINK is offering a $500 tuition scholarship to the first eight academically qualified students from South America who enroll in the INTERLINK program at UNCG. This scholarship is renewable each term that the student stays in the program and makes normal progress toward program completion. This $500 amount will be automatically deducted from a student’s tuition payment each term.

Students with higher academic achievement are eligible for up to a $1000 tuition scholarship renewable each term the student continues in the program. This $1000 amount will be automatically deducted from a student’s tuition payment each term.

INTERLINK will be happy to send program information to you or answer questions. Our revised website has most of the information we believe you will need. http://uncg.interlinkesl.com

Sincerely,

Dr. Brad Teague
Director

Head, Shoulders, Knees, and Toes by U2

2011-02-10T08:13:00.000-08:00

The Visions of Students Today - Call for Submissions

2011-01-27T06:27:00.000-08:00

No Problem, Houston

2011-01-26T06:21:00.000-08:00

No Problem, Houston

Article about our Skype session with Mr. Moore from NASA published on Stanly News and Press (SNAP) on January 26, 2011.

2011-01-17T10:06:00.000-08:00

"Nothing in all the world is more dangerous than sincere ignorance and conscientious stupidity." - Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. #MLKday

2010-12-09T09:47:00.000-08:00

Thank you, Henrick, for sharing this video with us on your latest post.

2010-12-07T16:41:00.000-08:00

"Your car is Japanese. Your pizza is Italian. Your beer is German. Your wine is Spanish. Your democracy is Greek. Your coffee is Colombian. Your tea is English. Your watch is Swiss. Your fashion is French. Your shirt is Indian. Your shoes are Chinese. Your ipod is Korean. Your vodka is Swedish. And then you complain your neighbour is an immigrant? Put yourself together! Copy this if you are against racism!"

Kiran Bir Sethi teaches kids to take charge

2010-11-16T14:38:00.001-08:00

Teaching One Child at a Time by Shukla Bose

2010-11-16T14:34:00.001-08:00

Teaching Kids Real Math with Computers by Conrad Wolfram

2010-11-16T14:27:00.001-08:00

Off for a little while...

2010-11-14T16:58:00.000-08:00

Dear readers,

I will be off for some time to work on my thesis.

See you next year!

Wallace :0)

Week 9

2010-11-14T16:56:00.000-08:00

I cannot wait to begin week nine of my ongoing ninety-day challenge!

I got mine and I'm lovin' it!

2010-11-11T19:32:00.001-08:00

2010-10-20T14:12:00.000-07:00

Em meio à postergação passageira, encontro-me na desilusão serena de que tudo está na mais perfeita, como deveria estar.

The English Language In 24 Accents

2010-10-10T19:15:00.000-07:00

2010-10-09T08:07:00.001-07:00

"The value of things is not the time they last, but the intensity with which they occur. That is why there are unforgettable moments and unique people!" - Fernando Pessoa

Baby Driver

2010-10-03T16:34:00.001-07:00

statefarm young driver.mov

2010-10-03T16:34:00.000-07:00

2010-09-23T15:43:00.001-07:00

The Future of the Book. from IDEO on Vimeo.

My ongoing ninety-day challenge

2010-09-20T21:35:00.000-07:00

Week two, and I'm getting there. Have you set your goals yet? Time flies!

2010-09-06T17:55:00.000-07:00

2010-09-05T18:59:00.001-07:00

♥"She
May be the face I can't forget

The trace of pleasure or regret

...May be my treasure or the price I have to pay

She

May be the song that summer sings

May be the chill that autumn brings

May be a hundred different things

Within the measure of a day. . ." ♥ - Elvis Costello

2010-09-01T22:37:00.000-07:00

"De tanto ver triunfar as nulidades, de tanto ver prosperar a desonra, de tanto ver crescer a injustiça, de tanto ver agigantarem-se os poderes nas mãos dos maus, o homem chega a desanimar da virtude, a rir-se da honra, a ter vergonha de ser honesto". - Rui Barbosa

2010-08-24T08:59:00.001-07:00

Why should you move beyond slides? on Prezi

2010-08-24T08:58:00.001-07:00

Math is not linear on Prezi

David Crystal - Should English be taught as a 'global' language?

2010-08-08T09:33:00.001-07:00

Global English with David Crystal

2010-08-08T09:33:00.000-07:00

David Crystal - Which English?

2010-08-08T09:32:00.000-07:00

David Crystal on English Idioms by Shakespeare

2010-08-08T09:17:00.000-07:00

I'm officially on vacation!

2010-07-31T07:32:00.000-07:00

Updates

2010-06-24T07:21:00.000-07:00

This summer began with quite a bit of stress. Last Tuesday, my beloved wife had to undergo a laparoscopic cholecystectomy surgery. She was diagnosed with acute cholecystitis two weeks ago. After meeting with the surgeon, we all agreed that the most effective treatment was the surgical procedure aforementioned. It was her first surgical procedure and being that we were thousands of miles away from our families, we could not prevent ourselves from becoming a bit too scared of it all. Thank God, the procedure went well, and she is at home now recovering little by little. I have been doing my best to pamper her lately. Fat free dishes and lots of natural fluids to make her strong enough to heal as fast as possible. I cannot wait to see her up and running again.
I would like to thank all of you who kept her in your thoughts and prayers.
May God shower you and your families with all the blessings from above.
I gotta go now. It's time to cook some delicious concoction to the person that makes me be.

Wallace

Today

2010-05-19T17:19:00.001-07:00

coffee + books + laptop + lap-desk + ideas + excitement + hope + lots of stamina + words + APA + structure + deadline = my thesis :0)

2010-05-14T10:43:00.001-07:00

2010-05-14T10:39:00.001-07:00

Hans Rosling's new insights on poverty | Video on TED.com

2010-05-14T10:33:00.001-07:00

Hans Rosling's new insights on poverty | Video on TED.com

2010-05-14T10:33:00.000-07:00

Hans Rosling's new insights on poverty | Video on TED.com

Nonna

2010-04-26T19:19:00.000-07:00

Sábia,

É exatamente a palavra que melhor a descreve. Teus exemplos nos ensinaram a ganhar o mundo quando ainda éramos imaturos demais para compreender o que o futuro nos reservava.

Sempre me impressionei com tua sabedoria. Mesmo estando sempre em casa, sabias de tudo o que se passava no mundo. Todos sempre gostavam de ouví-la.

Sua filha Ita, a mãe que amo, ainda recorda e nos conta o que a disse quando saíra de casa para morar só e estudar "Minha filha, o certo eu te ensinei, o errado o mundo te ensinará. Cabe à você escolher."

Na roda de senhoras de sua idade quando dos churrascos na casa do tio Tadeu, sempre se destacara não só pela vivacidade e energia que existia em teu semblante, mas pela habilidade com as palavras. Sempre lêra. Digo pra mãe voltar a ler, pois a nonna está sempre lendo.

Apesar da distância geográfica que nos afastava materialmente, o meu amor e admiração por ti jamais se extingüiram. Pelo contrário, ao passo que crescia, conseguia compreender ainda mais tudo o que nos contara.

Ainda me lembro o quanto trabalhava. Sempre acordara cedo para ordenhar as vacas. Não me esqueço o quão surpreso fiquei ao vê-la falar ao ouvido do Rossi quais vacas deveria tocar para ti.

"Nonna, e a polenta se mexe é com o pau é?" - William uma vez a indagara.
Mesa posta, um banquete de rei, e o barulho da polenta na chapa quente do fogão à lenha eram inconfundíveis. A nata grossa como requeijão cremoso em cima da polenta quente sempre serão recordações das nossas férias de verão em tua aconchegante casa.

O modo como sempre lavara as louças com uma chaleira de água quente, bucha natural e sabão caseiro superavam qualquer Minerva.

O copinho de cerveja, ou de vinho, nunca faltaram para lhe proporcionar boas conversas e lembranças de vossa estória.

O teu amor pelo nonno é um exemplo que quero seguir. "Não entendo como as mulheres de hoje se rendem a outros quando viúvas. O nonno foi o único e grande amor da minha vida. Ainda sinto tanta saudade dele."

Nossas idas à igreja de São Rafael foram de extrema importância para mim. Adorava o jeito como me apresentava às pessoas. "Esse é filho da Ita; agora, meu neto."

"Que camisa difícil de passar!" "Deixa Nonna, tá bom assim." Mas sua perfeição era insuperável.
Passara àquela camisa com tanto cuidado para o festival de chopp de São João do Polesine que nem dobras existiam mais. Aquela camisa branca se foi, mas tua admiração ao me ver sair ficará sempre guardada em meu coração.

A nossa despedida no aeroporto de POA com as doces palavras "Eu irei ao teu casamento" foram prova de que minha viagem ao sul tinha sido deveras a melhor de todas.

No cantinho perto da porta da cozinha, sempre tuas lágrimas a nos despedir quando do final de nossas férias. Hoje, as minhas o fazem sem a certeza do regresso.

Tua vinda à minha bôda foi o maior de todos os feitos. Nem os atrasos no aeroporto a impediram de chegar à Brasília. A foto em que Dani e eu a beijamos nas bochechas sempre nos acompanhará.

Os teus bisnetinhos de longe vão se deleitar em saber quem essa figura majestosa foi em nossas vidas.

O que a desejo agora é descanso, pois essa tal doença sugou de ti até o último suspiro nos deixando assim, completamente sem rumo.

Amo-te, e sempre amar-te-ei por tudo que representastes em minha vida.

À mim, à mim restam as doces lembranças da vida com a nonna que Deus me deu.

Do seu neto distante,

Wallace

2010-04-26T18:38:00.001-07:00

LUTTO: cordoglio sentimento di dolore per la morte di nonna. :(

Dani,

2010-04-08T22:57:00.001-07:00

Tu es ma vie, mon tout, je t'aime de tout mon coeur. Je n'imagine pas vivre sans toi.

Digital Writing Workshop- Horry County Class

2010-04-08T22:33:00.001-07:00

Rainy Days

2010-04-08T17:20:00.001-07:00

by Wallace Barboza

Gazing out the window,
countless raindrops roll down the screen
in a slow winding dance
blurring the scenario as I blink.
On the way down, they unite.
The rhythm changes.
Swing dies.
Gravity pushes them down
until they hit the ground.
From the unstoppable storm, other
drops come down to fulfill the never-ending cycle
that greens the field, dresses trees, and blooms
flowers all around.

Copyright © 2010 Wallace Barboza

2010-02-10T10:42:00.001-08:00

WSRA 2010 - Because Digital Writing Matters - By Troy Hicks

2010-02-04T14:47:00.001-08:00

Check out this SlideShare Presentation:

WSRA 2010 - Because Digital Writing Matters

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2009-12-12T22:06:00.000-08:00

O que há em mim é sobretudo cansaço

O que há em mim é sobretudo cansaço
Não disto nem daquilo,
Nem sequer de tudo ou de nada:
Cansaço assim mesmo, ele mesmo,
Cansaço.

A subtileza das sensações inúteis,
As paixões violentas por coisa nenhuma,
Os amores intensos por o suposto alguém.
Essas coisas todas -
Essas e o que faz falta nelas eternamente -;
Tudo isso faz um cansaço,
Este cansaço,
Cansaço.

Há sem dúvida quem ame o infinito,
Há sem dúvida quem deseje o impossível,
Há sem dúvida quem não queira nada -
Três tipos de idealistas, e eu nenhum deles:
Porque eu amo infinitamente o finito,
Porque eu desejo impossivelmente o possível,
Porque eu quero tudo, ou um pouco mais, se puder ser,
Ou até se não puder ser...

E o resultado?
Para eles a vida vivida ou sonhada,
Para eles o sonho sonhado ou vivido,
Para eles a média entre tudo e nada, isto é, isto...
Para mim só um grande, um profundo,
E, ah com que felicidade infecundo, cansaço,
Um supremíssimo cansaço.
Íssimo, íssimo. íssimo,
Cansaço...

Álvaro de Campos

2009-12-12T22:03:00.001-08:00

Já não me importo

Já não me importo
Até com o que amo ou creio amar.
Sou um navio que chegou a um porto
E cujo movimento é ali estar.

Nada me resta
Do que quis ou achei.
Cheguei da festa
Como fui para lá ou ainda irei

Indiferente
A quem sou ou suponho que mal sou,

Fito a gente
Que me rodeia e sempre rodeou,

Com um olhar
Que, sem o poder ver,
Sei que é sem ar
De olhar a valer.

E só me não cansa
O que a brisa me traz
De súbita mudança
No que nada me faz.

Fernando Pessoa

Comunicar - W.Barboza

2009-12-12T19:26:00.000-08:00

Na incerteza do comunicar,
me encontro diante do
desejo contido de
palavras que, ainda não ditas,
insistem em se pronunciar.

O não responder, ignorar,
intensifica essa louca
e incontrolável vontade
de um "olá".

Por quê? me pergunto

A mim só resta o calar,
o conter,
o silenciar,
diante da falta do
"comunicar".

Copyright © 2009 Wallace Barboza

Blood by Wallace Barboza

2009-12-04T06:49:00.000-08:00

Breathing,
inhaling,
exhaling;
the nonstop movement
of life pumping and
oxygenating this very
red liquid that makes
all of us be, blood.

Symbol of life and death,
of birth.
What would have been
of you and me
if no bloody blood
made us at all?

Yet, this blood
carries all the good and
bad inhabitants that insist
on invading and taking away
the most invaluable
thing of all, life.

By one reckless deed,
one moment of
pleasurable peace.
Pupils dilate,
heartbeats increase,
sweat drops roll,
from body and soul;
whispers.

Thoughts and stress
relieved, but still
the drawbacks of it
will resemble in every
remembrance of that
physiological act,
fulfilled with sensations,
that suddenly have taken
your life away.

Copyright © 2009 Wallace Barboza

2009-11-27T19:35:00.001-08:00

O Tempo Não Pára

CAZUZA

Composição : Cazuza / Arnaldo Brandão

Disparo contra o sol
Sou forte, sou por acaso
Minha metralhadora cheia de mágoas
Eu sou um cara
Cansado de correr
Na direção contrária
Sem pódio de chegada ou beijo de namorada
Eu sou mais um cara

Mas se você achar
Que eu tô derrotado
Saiba que ainda estão rolando os dados
Porque o tempo, o tempo não pára

Dias sim, dias não
Eu vou sobrevivendo sem um arranhão
Da caridade de quem me detesta

A tua piscina tá cheia de ratos
Tuas idéias não correspondem aos fatos
O tempo não pára

Eu vejo o futuro repetir o passado
Eu vejo um museu de grandes novidades
O tempo não pára
Não pára, não, não pára

Eu não tenho data pra comemorar
Às vezes os meus dias são de par em par
Procurando uma agulha num palheiro

Nas noites de frio é melhor nem nascer
Nas de calor, se escolhe: é matar ou morrer
E assim nos tornamos brasileiros
Te chamam de ladrão, de bicha, maconheiro
Transformam o país inteiro num puteiro
Pois assim se ganha mais dinheiro

A tua piscina tá cheia de ratos
Tuas idéias não correspondem aos fatos
O tempo não pára

Eu vejo o futuro repetir o passado
Eu vejo um museu de grandes novidades
O tempo não pára
Não pára, não, não pára

Dias sim, dias não
Eu vou sobrevivendo sem um arranhão
Da caridade de quem me detesta

A tua piscina tá cheia de ratos
Tuas idéias não correspondem aos fatos
O tempo não pára

Eu vejo o futuro repetir o passado
Eu vejo um museu de grandes novidades
O tempo não pára
Não pára, não, não pára

2009-11-27T19:31:00.000-08:00

Codinome Beija-flor

CAZUZA

Composição: Cazuza / Ezequiel Neves / Reinaldo Arias

Pra que mentir
Fingir que perdoou
Tentar ficar amigos sem rancor
A emoção acabou
Que coincidência é o amor
A nossa música nunca mais tocou...

Pra que usar de tanta educação
Pra destilar terceiras intenções
Desperdiçando o meu mel
Devagarzinho, flor em flor
Entre os meus inimigos, beija-flor

Eu protegi o teu nome por amor
Em um codinome, Beija-flor
Não responda nunca, meu amor
Pra qualquer um na rua, Beija-flor

Que só eu que podia
Dentro da tua orelha fria
Dizer segredos de liquidificador

Você sonhava acordada
Um jeito de não sentir dor
Prendia o choro e aguava o bom do amor
Prendia o choro e aguava o bom do amor

2009-11-26T07:41:00.000-08:00

I am thankful for having met and being surrounded by so many special people like you. Happy Thanksgiving!

Act One - By Wallace Barboza

2009-11-24T06:02:00.000-08:00

The unimaginable found its spot
in this very mind
breaking all the sturdy societal principles
long primed.

Never have I felt this way before
within the act.
Hence, I thoroughly enjoyed it and
that is a fact.

Theatrical allegory
lingers.
Hands, mouths, touches, fingers.

From the heat, sweat,
distance, hidden desire and pain,
doubt still remains.

No one else is needed
to revive sensations so vivid.

The uniqueness of its way
resembles in every remembrance of
the play .
It was solely for that one moment;
that one last day.

Copyright © 2009 Wallace Barboza

2009-11-22T10:16:00.000-08:00

"It's always better when we're together. . ." - Jack Johnson found the right words to say what I am feeling now. Thanks for such a wonderful weekend by your side, babe. You are my reason to be. My own remedy for all the stress within. Love you just the way you are and there is nothing able to put us apart. Nothing.

2009-11-21T07:36:00.000-08:00

There are days in which I feel like teleporting myself back to the past in order to enjoy even more unique moments that, now, will never come back.

2009-11-19T12:41:00.000-08:00

It is amazingly pleasurable to have this feeling of "mission accomplished" at the end of the day. I wonder whether it should occur more often to avoid the demeaning stress of our daily routine. Blessed be those who have come this far without letting their beliefs fade away. Seize the day and enjoy this misty cold evening of November with a cup of hot coffee and a delightful poem that reinvigorates your weak soul.

2009-10-25T19:26:00.002-07:00

2009-10-25T19:26:00.001-07:00

2009-10-25T17:59:00.001-07:00

"Technology is just a tool. In terms of getting the kids working together and motivating them, the teacher is the most important." - Bill Gates

2009-10-25T09:36:00.001-07:00

"It is delightful to transport one's self into the spirit of the past, to see how a wise man has thought before us, and to what glorious height we have at last reached." _ Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

Metallica World Magnetic Tour - Concert in Charlotte, NC 2009

2009-10-19T18:51:00.001-07:00

Last Sunday, October 18, I was granted another wish here in the USA. I finally went to one of Metallica's World Magnetic Tour concerts that took place in Charlotte, NC. It was my first time at a Metallica concert. My tickets were bought back in April through the MetClub which provided me with a fan discount and since then I was thrilled to coming to this concert.

Arriving at the concert's venue, I was able to see that I was not the only fan who was wearing the 2009 MetClub tee. Hundreds of people wore the black and bright yellow MetClub t-shirt in the long line that surrounded the Time Warner Cable(TWC) Arena.

Once I picked up the tickets at the Will Call window, I proceeded to the MetClub fan line with my dearest wife. She is not really into heavy metal, but she accompanied me for she knows how much I like this band. She even polished her nails black.

After entering the TWC arena, we looked for our seats at section 104, row P seats 7-8. The view from there was great! I could not wait to see Lars, James, Kirk, and Robert on that exquisite stage. Eight metal caskets hung from the ceiling symbolizing the cover of the new album, "Death Magnetic," which is the theme of the tour. However, my hope was that they would play the old songs that I love so much. They actually did. All my favorite songs were played L-I-V-E!

I could not believe my eyes and ears before such magnificent concert full of special effects. Flames, laser effect lights, caskets that descended from the TWC ceiling to center stage tilting over the band members; So Awesome!

The sound quality was incredible. I am still a bit "deaf" after those loud songs.
It was worth waiting for so long to see my favorite band play LIVE. I could not ask for more.

2009-10-17T19:09:00.001-07:00

"Renda-se, como eu me rendi. Mergulhe no que você não conhece como eu mergulhei. Não se preocupe em entender, viver ultrapassa qualquer entendimento." - Clarice Lispector

2009-10-11T16:21:00.001-07:00

2009-10-11T16:10:00.001-07:00

2009-10-11T16:08:00.001-07:00

2009-10-11T14:32:00.001-07:00

Just Breathe

Artist: Pearl Jam

Composer: Pearl Jam

Yes I understand that every life must end, aw huh,..
As we sit alone, I know someday we must go, aw huh,..
I’m a lucky man to count on both hands
The ones I love,..

Some folks just have one,
Others they got none, aw huh,..

Stay with me,..
Let’s just breathe.

Practiced are my sins,
Never gonna let me win, aw huh,..
Under everything, just another human being, aw huh,..
Yeh, I don’t wanna hurt, there’s so much in this world
To make me bleed.

Stay with me,..
You’re all I see.

Did I say that I need you?
Did I say that I want you?
Oh, if I didn’t now I’m a fool you see,..
No one knows this more than me.
As I come clean.

I wonder everyday
as I look upon your face, aw huh,..
Everything you gave
And nothing you would take, aw huh,..
Nothing you would take,..
Everything you gave.

Did I say that I need you?
Oh, Did I say that I want you?
Oh, if I didn’t now I’m a fool you see,..
No one know this more than me.
As I come clean.

Nothing you would take,..
everything you gave.
Hold me till I die,..
Meet you on the other side.

2009-10-04T18:30:00.001-07:00

“Life is too short to be little. Man is never so manly as when he feels deeply, acts boldly, and expresses himself with frankness and with fervor.” - Benjamin Disraelli

Food for Thought...

2009-10-04T18:04:00.000-07:00

"Há um tempo em que é preciso abandonar as roupas usadas, que já tem a forma do nosso corpo, e esquecer os nossos caminhos, que nos levam sempre aos mesmos lugares. É o tempo da travessia: e, se não ousarmos fazê-la, teremos ficado, para sempre, à margem de nós mesmos." - Fernando Pessoa

"A amizade é um amor que nunca morre." - Mário Quintana

"Há 2 espécies de chatos: os chatos propriamente ditos e ... os amigos, que são os nossos chatos prediletos." - Mário Quintana

"O segredo é não correr atrás das borboletas... É cuidar do jardim para que elas venham até você." - Mário Quintana

YES, We "Créu!"

2009-10-02T17:49:00.000-07:00

IOC president announces Rio de Janeiro, Brazil, as the winning host city for the 2016 Summer Olympics. Brazil is jumping for joy after Rio de Janeiro is chosen to host the 2016 Olympic games.

2009-09-30T18:56:00.000-07:00

Saturday, a relaxing day!

2009-09-12T17:09:00.000-07:00

I can barely hear the alarm clock ringing. (I cannot believe I left it set to go off on weekends.)With one eye opened, I press the dismiss button and slowly fall asleep again.

Two hours later, I wake up and the sunlight is seen through the living room window treatment. It makes the whole room look bright yellow. I stretch my arms and legs just like a puppy after a long nap. I get up and go to the kitchen walking and yawning at the same time. As my pupils get used to the fluorescent lights, I am able to see the gallon of water sitting on the counter by an empty glass (maybe left by me last night.) I pour the water into the glass as I hear birds twittering outside. I drink that refreshing glass of water until the last drop as if coming from a long walk in the desert (good excuse for those on a hangover.)

I proceed to the bathroom for a morning shower to regain energy (in fact, to wake up.) As the cold water pours down on my head, I begin to think about the many things I can do on this very day that I am fully recovered. (Being out sick for almost a week is not exciting at all.)
Perhaps, cooking a special meal, or going for a walk in the park to see the trees beginning to change the colors of their leaves as fall approaches. Either one sounds great! I still do not know exactly what to do, but there is one thing I know, I have spent too much time in the shower. I would better leave and get dressed.

Razor, aftershave, toothbrush, toothpaste, cologne, deodorant, hair gel, shorts, t-shirt, sneakers. I believe I am ready to go. Where? No clue yet, but I make my way to the kitchen and pick a tiny bowl, granola, and milk. After one minute and ten seconds, beep! I am having the most nutritional and healthy breakfast in the world ( at least it has been the best one for the past few weeks.) I leave the kitchen and open the window treatments in the living room. The day looks hot and sunny. One can tell by the many children and parents going out to the pool right down the street. A couple of dried leaves, after resisting gravity for so long, slowly fall down from the trees that surround this apartment complex where I live.

On the other side of the street, our gentle neighbor waves to the crowd that goes down the street. He is a very tall man with long gray mustache and beard, and many tattoos all over his arms. He must have been one of those rock band members at a young age. What a character!

On the right, there is a couple who own two female Pomeranian chiuauas. The one thing I hate about those two puppies is that they poop on the grass that covers our path to the mailboxes. Luckily, I have not stepped on any of their feces when picking my mail. Besides, the man, one of the owners, is the one that always calls the main office to complain about the silliest things that happen around here. (For me this is a waste of time.) Anyway, he is out there and guess what? The two chiuauas are getting ready for their nasty morning job again. Done! My grass is full of dog poop again! (Hey dude,
go pick those up! I wish I could say that. . .)

I leave the window and turn on the radio. "Time goes by so slowly. . . " Madonna, she has the right words to begin my day. Actually, time is not going by so slowly as I thought. It is already eleven and I have to decide what to do.

Well, maybe a Brazilian "barbecue"("churrasco" sounds way better) would quench my thirst for juicy beef. There is not any top sirloin in the fridge or in the freezer. Besides, there are no butchers around here. I have to go to the grocery store to get some juicy tender chunks of beef to grill and cut in a Brazilian style.

(Hum, this looks yummy! Four large pieces of top sirloin on a tray for fourteen bucks. Deal! Wait a minute, I need to have some vinaigrette too. Let's see. . . tomatoes, green pepper, onions, garlic, vinegar, salt. Got them all for less than twenty dollars. Great price.)

Back home, with all these bags, I drop them on the kitchen floor and put on some authentic Brazilian Popular Music by Quarteto Jobim-

Morelenbaum to play in the living room. Fabulous lyrics and gorgeous voices surround the whole house waking my beloved wife from her beauty sleep. She engages into making the meal of the day by chopping tiny squares of onions, tomatoes, green peppers. (She is great with her silky ebony hands.) While I am still attempting to assemble the electric grill, she is already cooking the yuka, and seasoning the vinaigrette. (Rice is now boiling in the pan and I realize I am already behind schedule.)

Grill is now on, chicken wings seasoned (my wife did that too,) the top sirloin is marinating in a large bowl with EVOO (extra virgin olive oil according to Rachel Ray), SAZON, garlic, marine salt, and soy sauce. The smell of bottled butter from Brazil invades the kitchen as my wife splashes it on top of the cooked yuka. Delicious! Creamy! and flavorful!

The first round of juicy medium-rare beef is ready, and thin mouthwatering slices are cut. A few drops of fresh lime and they are ready to be tasted. My babe's facial expressions cannot deny her appraisal for such delicious bite! "Great job, honey!" - she says.

I keep taking care of the grill as she watches the rice being cooked. "Água de beber, água de beber, camarada. . ." coming from the radio in the living room and the great smell of food is all over the place now. Time to open the windows or else the fire alarm will go off. Windows open, fan on. Now we are talking. Safe indoor grilling accompanied by Brazilian songs, and some other home country delicacies.

Lunch is ready. Oh boy! after so many bites I do not feel like eating much, but who can resist some fresh vinaigrette, cooked yuka with bottled butter, fresh cooked rice seasoned with lots of garlic, and a good juicy chunk of tender beef? Not me! Here I go cautiously not to exceed the amount of food I usually eat (dietary concerns now?)

After such banquet, one cannot help taking a very good nap. (Fattening? Who cares!?)

Before falling asleep, I thank Him for all that He has provided us with on this sixth day of the week that, for us, could not have been more relaxing.

~WB

Loosen Thoughts - By Wallace Barboza

2009-09-12T16:55:00.000-07:00

Waking time,

lights unexpectedly shine

upon the one I beautify.

Here, the atmosphere

and light are nothing

but a type of sphere that brightens

my blurry sight.

Sweetness, shyness,

coyness.

Myself.

what else am I gonna do?

What to say,

or do?

Passion, warmth, actions.

A moment.

Never the same.

A word unspoken.

The unsaid in a moment.

A contended desire of

speaking up my mind,

release my feelings

kept hidden in time.

Inside.

Yet, I am alive.

I blink my eyes,

and the mists of a lovely

morning invade my room

bringing what for a

moment seemed to

be lost in a loosen thought

of mine,

you.

Wow! Apple is ahead again!

2009-09-10T18:53:00.000-07:00

2009-09-03T08:48:00.000-07:00

The Raven

By Edgar Allan Poe

Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore,
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
`'Tis some visitor,' I muttered, `tapping at my chamber door -
Only this, and nothing more.'

Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December,
And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.
Eagerly I wished the morrow; - vainly I had sought to borrow
From my books surcease of sorrow - sorrow for the lost Lenore -
For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels named Lenore -
Nameless here for evermore.

And the silken sad uncertain rustling of each purple curtain
Thrilled me - filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;
So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating
`'Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door -
Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door; -
This it is, and nothing more,'

Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,
`Sir,' said I, `or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;
But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping,
And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door,
That I scarce was sure I heard you' - here I opened wide the door; -
Darkness there, and nothing more.

Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,
Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before
But the silence was unbroken, and the darkness gave no token,
And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, `Lenore!'
This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, `Lenore!'
Merely this and nothing more.

Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning,
Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before.
`Surely,' said I, `surely that is something at my window lattice;
Let me see then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore -
Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore; -
'Tis the wind and nothing more!'

Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,
In there stepped a stately raven of the saintly days of yore.
Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he;
But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door -
Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door -
Perched, and sat, and nothing more.

Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,
By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore,
`Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou,' I said, `art sure no craven.
Ghastly grim and ancient raven wandering from the nightly shore -
Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian shore!'
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'

Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly,
Though its answer little meaning - little relevancy bore;
For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being
Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door -
Bird or beast above the sculptured bust above his chamber door,
With such name as `Nevermore.'

But the raven, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only,
That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour.
Nothing further then he uttered - not a feather then he fluttered -
Till I scarcely more than muttered `Other friends have flown before -
On the morrow he will leave me, as my hopes have flown before.'
Then the bird said, `Nevermore.'

Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken,
`Doubtless,' said I, `what it utters is its only stock and store,
Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful disaster
Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore -
Till the dirges of his hope that melancholy burden bore
Of "Never-nevermore."'

But the raven still beguiling all my sad soul into smiling,
Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird and bust and door;
Then, upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking
Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore -
What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt, and ominous bird of yore
Meant in croaking `Nevermore.'

This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing
To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom's core;
This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining
On the cushion's velvet lining that the lamp-light gloated o'er,
But whose velvet violet lining with the lamp-light gloating o'er,
She shall press, ah, nevermore!

Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer
Swung by Seraphim whose foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor.
`Wretch,' I cried, `thy God hath lent thee - by these angels he has sent thee
Respite - respite and nepenthe from thy memories of Lenore!
Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe, and forget this lost Lenore!'
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'

`Prophet!' said I, `thing of evil! - prophet still, if bird or devil! -
Whether tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore,
Desolate yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted -
On this home by horror haunted - tell me truly, I implore -
Is there - is there balm in Gilead? - tell me - tell me, I implore!'
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'

`Prophet!' said I, `thing of evil! - prophet still, if bird or devil!
By that Heaven that bends above us - by that God we both adore -
Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn,
It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels named Lenore -
Clasp a rare and radiant maiden, whom the angels named Lenore?'
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'

`Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend!' I shrieked upstarting -
`Get thee back into the tempest and the Night's Plutonian shore!
Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!
Leave my loneliness unbroken! - quit the bust above my door!
Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!'
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'

And the raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting
On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door;
And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming,
And the lamp-light o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;
And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor
Shall be lifted - nevermore!

2009-08-31T10:33:00.000-07:00

A IGREJA DO DIABO

by Machado de Assis

CAPÍTULO I

DE UMA IDÉIA MIRÍFICA

Conta um velho manuscrito beneditino que o Diabo, em certo dia, teve a idéia de fundar uma igreja. Embora os seus lucros fossem contínuos e grandes, sentia-se humilhado com o papel avulso que exercia desde séculos, sem organização, sem regras, sem cânones, sem ritual, sem nada. Vivia, por assim dizer, dos remanescentes divinos, dos descuidos e obséquios humanos. Nada fixo, nada regular. Por que não teria ele a sua igreja? Uma igreja do Diabo era o meio eficaz de combater as outras religiões, e destruí-las de uma vez.

- Vá, pois, uma igreja, concluiu ele. Escritura contra Escritura, breviário contra breviário. Terei a minha missa, com vinho e pão à farta, as minhas prédicas, bulas, novenas e todo o demais aparelho eclesiástico. O meu credo será o núcleo universal dos espíritos, a minha igreja uma tenda de Abraão. E depois, enquanto as outras religiões se combatem e se dividem, a minha igreja será única; não acharei diante de mim, nem Maomé, nem Lutero. Há muitos modos de afirmar; há só um de negar tudo.

Dizendo isto, o Diabo sacudiu a cabeça e estendeu os braços, com um gesto magnífico e varonil. Em seguida, lembrou-se de ir ter com Deus para comunicar-lhe a idéia, e desafiá-lo; levantou os olhos, acesos de ódio, ásperos de vingança, e disse consigo: - Vamos, é tempo. E rápido, batendo as asas, com tal estrondo que abalou todas as províncias do abismo, arrancou da sombra para o infinito azul.

ENTRE DEUS E O DIABO

Deus recolhia um ancião, quando o Diabo chegou ao céu. Os serafins que engrinaldavam o recém-chegado, detiveram-no logo, e o Diabo deixou-se estar à entrada com os olhos no Senhor.

- Que me queres tu? perguntou este.

- Não venho pelo vosso servo Fausto, respondeu o Diabo rindo, mas por todos os Faustos do século e dos séculos.

- Explica-te.

- Senhor, a explicação é fácil; mas permiti que vos diga: recolhei primeiro esse bom velho; dai-lhe o melhor lugar, mandai que as mais afinadas cítaras e alaúdes o recebam com os mais divinos coros...

- Sabes o que ele fez? perguntou o Senhor, com os olhos cheios de doçura.

- Não, mas provavelmente é dos últimos que virão ter convosco. Não tarda muito que o céu fique semelhante a uma casa vazia, por causa do preço, que é alto. Vou edificar uma hospedaria barata; em duas palavras, vou fundar uma igreja. Estou cansado da minha desorganização, do meu reinado casual e adventício. É tempo de obter a vitória final e completa. E então vim dizer-vos isto, com lealdade, para que me não acuseis de dissimulação... Boa idéia, não vos parece?

- Vieste dizê-la, não legitimá-la, advertiu o Senhor,

- Tendes razão, acudiu o Diabo; mas o amor-próprio gosta de ouvir o aplauso dos mestres. Verdade é que neste caso seria o aplauso de um mestre vencido, e uma tal exigência... Senhor, desço à terra; vou lançar a minha pedra fundamental.

- Vai

- Quereis que venha anunciar-vos o remate da obra?

- Não é preciso; basta que me digas desde já por que motivo, cansado há tanto da tua desorganização, só agora pensaste em fundar uma igreja?

O Diabo sorriu com certo ar de escárnio e triunfo. Tinha alguma idéia cruel no espírito, algum reparo picante no alforje da memória, qualquer coisa que, nesse breve instante da eternidade, o fazia crer superior ao próprio Deus. Mas recolheu o riso, e disse:

- Só agora concluí uma observação, começada desde alguns séculos, e é que as virtudes, filhas do céu, são em grande número comparáveis a rainhas, cujo manto de veludo rematasse em franjas de algodão. Ora, eu proponho-me a puxá-las por essa franja, e trazê- las todas para minha igreja; atrás delas virão as de seda pura...

- Velho retórico! murmurou o Senhor.

- Olhai bem. Muitos corpos que ajoelham aos vossos pés, nos templos do mundo, trazem as anquinhas da sala e da rua, os rostos tingem-se do mesmo pó, os lenços cheiram aos mesmos cheiros, as pupilas centelham de curiosidade e devoção entre o livro santo e o bigode do pecado. Vede o ardor, - a indiferença, ao menos, - com que esse cavalheiro põe em letras públicas os benefícios que liberalmente espalha, - ou sejam roupas ou botas, ou moedas, ou quaisquer dessas matérias necessárias à vida... Mas não quero parecer que me detenho em coisas miúdas; não falo, por exemplo, da placidez com que este juiz de irmandade, nas procissões, carrega piedosamente ao peito o vosso amor e uma comenda... Vou a negócios mais altos...

Nisto os serafins agitaram as asas pesadas de fastio e sono. Miguel e Gabriel fitaram no Senhor um olhar de súplica, Deus interrompeu o Diabo.

- Tu és vulgar, que é o pior que pode acontecer a um espírito da tua espécie, replicou-lhe o Senhor. Tudo o que dizes ou digas está dito e redito pelos moralistas do mundo. É assunto gasto; e se não tens força, nem originalidade para renovar um assunto gasto, melhor é que te cales e te retires. Olha; todas as minhas legiões mostram no rosto os sinais vivos do tédio que lhes dás. Esse mesmo ancião parece enjoado; e sabes tu o que ele fez?

- Já vos disse que não.

- Depois de uma vida honesta, teve uma morte sublime. Colhido em um naufrágio, ia salvar-se numa tábua; mas viu um casal de noivos, na flor da vida, que se debatiam já com a morte; deu-lhes a tábua de salvação e mergulhou na eternidade. Nenhum público: a água e o céu por cima. Onde achas aí a franja de algodão?

- Senhor, eu sou, como sabeis, o espírito que nega.

- Negas esta morte?

- Nego tudo. A misantropia pode tomar aspecto de caridade; deixar a vida aos outros, para um misantropo, é realmente aborrecê-los...

- Retórico e sutil! exclamou o Senhor. Vai; vai, funda a tua igreja; chama todas as virtudes, recolhe todas as franjas, convoca todos os homens... Mas, vai! vai!

Debalde o Diabo tentou proferir alguma coisa mais. Deus impusera-lhe silêncio; os serafins, a um sinal divino, encheram o céu com as harmonias de seus cânticos. O Diabo sentiu, de repente, que se achava no ar; dobrou as asas, e, como um raio, caiu na terra.

Ill

A BOA NOVA AOS HOMENS

Uma vez na terra, o Diabo não perdeu um minuto. Deu-se pressa em enfiar a cogula beneditina, como hábito de boa fama, e entrou a espalhar uma doutrina nova e extraordinária, com uma voz que reboava nas entranhas do século. Ele prometia aos seus discípulos e fiéis as delícias da terra, todas as glórias, os deleites mais íntimos. Confessava que era o Diabo; mas confessava-o para retificar a noção que os homens tinham dele e desmentir as histórias que a seu respeito contavam as velhas beatas.

- Sim, sou o Diabo, repetia ele; não o Diabo das noites sulfúreas, dos contos soníferos, terror das crianças, mas o Diabo verdadeiro e único, o próprio gênio da natureza, a que se deu aquele nome para arredá-lo do coração dos homens. Vede-me gentil a airoso. Sou o vosso verdadeiro pai. Vamos lá: tomai daquele nome, inventado para meu desdouro, fazei dele um troféu e um lábaro, e eu vos darei tudo, tudo, tudo, tudo, tudo, tudo...

Era assim que falava, a princípio, para excitar o entusiasmo, espertar os indiferentes, congregar, em suma, as multidões ao pé de si. E elas vieram; e logo que vieram, o Diabo passou a definir a doutrina. A doutrina era a que podia ser na boca de um espírito de negação. Isso quanto à substância, porque, acerca da forma, era umas vezes sutil, outras cínica e deslavada.

Clamava ele que as virtudes aceitas deviam ser substituídas por outras, que eram as naturais e legítimas. A soberba, a luxúria, a preguiça foram reabilitadas, e assim também a avareza, que declarou não ser mais do que a mãe da economia, com a diferença que a mãe era robusta, e a filha uma esgalgada. A ira tinha a melhor defesa na existência de Homero; sem o furor de Aquiles, não haveria a Ilíada: "Musa, canta a cólera de Aquiles, filho de Peleu"... O mesmo disse da gula, que produziu as melhores páginas de Rabelais, e muitos bons versos do Hissope; virtude tão superior, que ninguém se lembra das batalhas de Luculo, mas das suas ceias; foi a gula que realmente o fez imortal. Mas, ainda pondo de lado essas razões de ordem literária ou histórica, para só mostrar o valor intrínseco daquela virtude, quem negaria que era muito melhor sentir na boca e no ventre os bons manjares, em grande cópia, do que os maus bocados, ou a saliva do jejum? Pela sua parte o Diabo prometia substituir a vinha do Senhor, expressão metafórica, pela vinha do Diabo, locução direta e verdadeira, pois não faltaria nunca aos seus com o fruto das mais belas cepas do mundo. Quanto à inveja, pregou friamente que era a virtude principal, origem de prosperidades infinitas; virtude preciosa, que chegava a suprir todas as outras, e ao próprio talento.

As turbas corriam atrás dele entusiasmadas. O Diabo incutia-lhes, a grandes golpes de eloqüência, toda a nova ordem de coisas, trocando a noção delas, fazendo amar as perversas e detestar as sãs.

Nada mais curioso, por exemplo, do que a definição que ele dava da fraude. Chamava-lhe o braço esquerdo do homem; o braço direito era a força; e concluía: muitos homens são canhotos, eis tudo. Ora, ele não exigia que todos fossem canhotos; não era exclusivista. Que uns fossem canhotos, outros destros; aceitava a todos, menos os que não fossem nada. A demonstração, porém, mais rigorosa e profunda, foi a da venalidade. Um casuísta do tempo chegou a confessar que era um monumento de lógica. A venalidade, disse o Diabo, era o exercício de um direito superior a todos os direitos. Se tu podes vender a tua casa, o teu boi, o teu sapato, o teu chapéu, coisas que são tuas por uma razão jurídica e legal, mas que, em todo caso, estão fora de ti, como é que não podes vender a tua opinião, o teu voto, a tua palavra, a tua fé, coisas que são mais do que tuas, porque são a tua própria consciência, isto é, tu mesmo? Negá-lo é cair no obscuro e no contraditório. Pois não há mulheres que vendem os cabelos? não pode um homem vender uma parte do seu sangue para transfundi-lo a outro homem anêmico? e o sangue e os cabelos, partes físicas, terão um privilégio que se nega ao caráter, à porção moral do homem? Demonstrando assim o princípio, o Diabo não se demorou em expor as vantagens de ordem temporal ou pecuniária; depois, mostrou ainda que, à vista do preconceito social, conviria dissimular o exercício de um direito tão legítimo, o que era exercer ao mesmo tempo a venalidade e a hipocrisia, isto é, merecer duplicadamente. E descia, e subia, examinava tudo, retificava tudo. Está claro que combateu o perdão das injúrias e outras máximas de brandura e cordialidade. Não proibiu formalmente a calúnia gratuita, mas induziu a exercê-la mediante retribuição, ou pecuniária, ou de outra espécie; nos casos, porém, em que ela fosse uma expansão imperiosa da força imaginativa, e nada mais, proibia receber nenhum salário, pois equivalia a fazer pagar a transpiração. Todas as formas de respeito foram condenadas por ele, como elementos possíveis de um certo decoro social e pessoal; salva, todavia, a única exceção do interesse. Mas essa mesma exceção foi logo eliminada, pela consideração de que o interesse, convertendo o respeito em simples adulação, era este o sentimento aplicado e não aquele.

Para rematar a obra, entendeu o Diabo que lhe cumpria cortar por toda a solidariedade humana. Com efeito, o amor do próximo era um obstáculo grave à nova instituição. Ele mostrou que essa regra era uma simples invenção de parasitas e negociantes insolváveis; não se devia dar ao próximo senão indiferença; em alguns casos, ódio ou desprezo. Chegou mesmo à demonstração de que a noção de próximo era errada, e citava esta frase de um padre de Nápoles, aquele fino e letrado Galiani, que escrevia a uma das marquesas do antigo regímen: "Leve a breca o próximo! Não há próximo!" A única hipótese em que ele permitia amar ao próximo era quando se tratasse de amar as damas alheias, porque essa espécie de amor tinha a particularidade de não ser outra coisa mais do que o amor do indivíduo a si mesmo. E como alguns discípulos achassem que uma tal explicação, por metafísica, escapava à compreensão das turbas, o Diabo recorreu a um apólogo: - Cem pessoas tomam ações de um banco, para as operações comuns; mas cada acionista não cuida realmente senão nos seus dividendos: é o que acontece aos adúlteros. Este apólogo foi incluído no livro da sabedoria.

FRANJAS E FRANJAS

A previsão do Diabo verificou-se. Todas as virtudes cuja capa de veludo acabava em franja de algodão, uma vez puxadas pela franja, deitavam a capa às urtigas e vinham alistar-se na igreja nova. Atrás foram chegando as outras, e o tempo abençoou a instituição. A igreja fundara-se; a doutrina propagava-se; não havia uma região do globo que não a conhecesse, uma língua que não a traduzisse, uma raça que não a amasse. O Diabo alçou brados de triunfo.

Um dia, porém, longos anos depois, notou o Diabo que muitos dos seus fiéis, às escondidas, praticavam as antigas virtudes. Não as praticavam todas, nem integralmente, mas algumas, por partes, e, como digo, às ocultas. Certos glutões recolhiam-se a comer frugalmente três ou quatro vezes por ano, justamente em dias de preceito católico; muitos avaros davam esmolas, à noite, ou nas ruas mal povoadas; vários dilapidadores do erário restituíam-lhe pequenas quantias; os fraudulentos falavam, uma ou outra vez, com o coração nas mãos, mas com o mesmo rosto dissimulado, para fazer crer que estavam embaçando os outros.

A descoberta assombrou o Diabo. Meteu-se a conhecer mais diretamente o mal, e viu que lavrava muito. Alguns casos eram até incompreensíveis, como o de um droguista do Levante, que envenenara longamente uma geração inteira, e, com o produto das drogas socorria os filhos das vítimas. No Cairo achou um perfeito ladrão de camelos, que tapava a cara para ir às mesquitas. O Diabo deu com ele à entrada de uma, lançou-lhe em rosto o procedimento; ele negou, dizendo que ia ali roubar o camelo de um drogomano; roubou-o, com efeito, à vista do Diabo e foi dá-lo de presente a um muezim, que rezou por ele a Alá. O manuscrito beneditino cita muitas outra descobertas extraordinárias, entre elas esta, que desorientou completamente o Diabo. Um dos seus melhores apóstolos era um calabrês, varão de cinqüenta anos, insigne falsificador de documentos, que possuía uma bela casa na campanha romana, telas, estátuas, biblioteca, etc. Era a fraude em pessoa; chegava a meter-se na cama para não confessar que estava são. Pois esse homem, não só não furtava ao jogo, como ainda dava gratificações aos criados. Tendo angariado a amizade de um cônego, ia todas as semanas confessar-se com ele, numa capela solitária; e, conquanto não lhe desvendasse nenhuma das suas ações secretas, benzia-se duas vezes, ao ajoelhar-se, e ao levantar-se. O Diabo mal pôde crer tamanha aleivosia. Mas não havia duvidar; o caso era verdadeiro.

Não se deteve um instante. O pasmo não lhe deu tempo de refletir, comparar e concluir do espetáculo presente alguma coisa análoga ao passado. Voou de novo ao céu, trêmulo de raiva, ansioso de conhecer a causa secreta de tão singular fenômeno. Deus ouviu-o com infinita complacência; não o interrompeu, não o repreendeu, não triunfou, sequer, daquela agonia satânica. Pôs os olhos nele, e disse:

- Que queres tu, meu pobre Diabo? As capas de algodão têm agora franjas de seda, como as de veludo tiveram franjas de algodão. Que queres tu? É a eterna contradição humana.

Fonte: Contos Consagrados - Machado de Assis - Coleção Prestigio - Ediouro - s/d.

2009-08-31T10:27:00.000-07:00

Vou-me Embora pra Pasárgada
by Manoel Bandeira

Vou-me embora pra Pasárgada
Lá sou amigo do rei

Lá tenho a mulher que eu quero

Na cama que escolherei

Vou-me embora pra Pasárgada

Vou-me embora pra Pasárgada

Aqui eu não sou feliz

Lá a existência é uma aventura

De tal modo inconseqüente

Que Joana a Louca de Espanha

Rainha e falsa demente

Vem a ser contraparente

Da nora que nunca tive

E como farei ginástica

Andarei de bicicleta

Montarei em burro brabo

Subirei no pau-de-sebo

Tomarei banhos de mar!

E quando estiver cansado

Deito na beira do rio

Mando chamar a mãe-d'água

Pra me contar as histórias

Que no tempo de eu menino

Rosa vinha me contar

Vou-me embora pra Pasárgada

Em Pasárgada tem tudo

É outra civilização

Tem um processo seguro

De impedir a concepção

Tem telefone automático

Tem alcalóide à vontade

Tem prostitutas bonitas

Para a gente namorar

E quando eu estiver mais triste

Mas triste de não ter jeito

Quando de noite me der

Vontade de me matar

— Lá sou amigo do rei —

Terei a mulher que eu quero

Na cama que escolherei

Vou-me embora pra Pasárgada.

Texto extraído do livro "Bandeira a Vida Inteira", Editora Alumbramento – Rio de Janeiro, 1986, pág. 90

What's in my name?

2009-08-29T18:32:00.000-07:00

According to the website http://www.thinkbabynames.com/ "The boy's name Wallace \wa-lla-ce\ is pronounced WAL-iss. It is of Old French origin, and its meaning is "Welshman". From "waleis". Originally a Scottish surname which refers to foreigners from the south. Popular as a given name in the 19th century. Sir William Wallace was a 13th-century Scottish patriotwho struggled in vain against the English King Edward I. Poet Wallace Stevens; actor Wallace Beery.
Wallace has 8 variant forms: Wallach, Wallas, Wallie, Wallis, Wally, Walsh, Welch and Welsh.
Baby names that sound like Wallace are Ellice and Ellyce.
Wallace is a very common first name for men and also a very common last name for both men and women (source: 1990 U.S. Census)."

De acordo com o sítio http://www.significado.origem.nom.br/ "Nada o deixa mais feliz do que um elogio. É capaz de dar uma festa, só porque recebeu um galanteio. Mas em contrapartida entra em profunda depressão quando sente-se humilhado ou desrespeitado. Mas ao invés de colocar a indgnação para fora, se isola de todos. Se dá muito bem com crianças, gosta de demonstrar seu romantismo e sua criatividade. Mas preste atenção para esta sensibilidade não revelar um excesso de vaidade pessoal, com certeza isso é algo a ser trabalhado."

Retrieved August 29, 2009, from http://www.thinkbabynames.com/ and http://www.significado.origem.nom.br/