Categories
in the netherlands links and ideas

led memories.

explanation: sometimes, wherever i am, i pop the ibook and open a stickie to write something. my stickies are filled with waiting hours, or post-insomniac considerations of places and situations. this is one of those, probably from mid-august, as i was looking back to mid-july.

“schipol is a special airport to me. it marks the first plane landing, the first night on a foreign country, the beggining of a year filled with surprises. but despite the personal attachments, it’s still a messy place, with sound warnings against smoking on forbidden places or biking inside the airport and people from everywhere specially teenage tourists eager to get stoned on the nearest coffeeshop. if you add a big strange meeting point, tiled in red and white squares with some pictures of formula one races (correct me if i’m wrong), lots of shops with tulips and clogs, a large amount of air hostesses dressing in blue, and miles to walk, you’ll get the picture.
a month ago i was sitting by the luggage belt, waiting for my stuff, when i noticed once again the vertical display on one of the staircase wells, with its green and red led’s displaying phrases, as the letters shifted from top to bottom or vice-versa. i’d seen it before, but not long enough to read any of it.

nevertheless, i expected something like “welcome to amsterdam” or “please beware of thieves, don’t let you luggage unguarded” or even a sort of quiz of the “did you know that…?” type.
no. the messages were weird, unrelated but equally disturbing, in a funny sense. i was surprised and for a moment thought of allucinations, or someone having fun messing with the system. one of those thoughts that crosses your mind when tiredness settles in and you think you’re starting to see things. one after another, they made me more and more curious, until i got the moleskine out and started scribbling them fast.

“the mouth is interesting because it’s one of those places where the dry outside moves towards the slippery inside”.

or “sometimes you have no other choice but to watch something gruesome occur yet don’t have the option of closing your eyes, because it happens fast and enters your memory.”

or “the rich knifing victim can flip and feel like the agressor if the thinks about previledge. he can also find the cut symbolic or prophetic”.

:|

leaves you thinking, right?
i didn’t know it yet, but that was exactly the point of artist jenny holzer, who developed some sort of text-art, to be printed or exhibited in public spaces.
more of her impressive work in washington, amsterdam (schipol) or paris.

Categories
in portugal

bologna

the portuguese students are angry with this government for finally implementing the bologna treaty. it seems to me that few people are seeing the big picture here.

Categories
links and ideas

eyecatching


* book plates: choose one (the hardest part…), print and paint, write your name on it and glue it to the book. :)
a simple idea to keep a kid occupied for some time… (via lifehacker)

* postcard polaroid: how not to love the mix of ideas?

* strandgut: pretty images. not all are polaroids, but they’re beautiful.

Categories
music

such great heights

i am thinking it’s a sign that the freckles
in our eyes are mirror images and when
we kiss they’re perfectly aligned
and I have to speculate that God himself
did make us into corresponding shapes like
puzzle pieces from the clay
and true, it may seem like a stretch, but
its thoughts like this that catch my troubled
head when you’re away
when I am missing you to death
when you are out there on the road for
several weeks of shows and when you scan
the radio, I hope this song will guide you home

they will see us waving from such great
heights, ‘come down now,’ they’ll say
but everything looks perfect from far away,
‘come down now,’ but we’ll stay…

such great heights, the postal service and a really old picture.

Categories
in portugal in the netherlands

it’s the little things

joão tordo, em entrevista à lecool desta semana. jornalista, nómada, escritor, descreve com uma eficácia extraordinária o que eu senti ao voltar. não é pedantismo, não é vaidade – mas julgo que é qualquer coisa que só se percebe quando se vive fora dos muros deste país. qualquer coisa que nos muda.
fica um excerto, o resto podem ler aqui.

– Tinhas saudades de Lisboa quando estavas lá?
Tinha saudades de algumas coisas, uma certa tranquilidade, que não se encontra no bulício diário de Londres, Brooklyn ou Manhattan. Mas temia o dia em que tivesse de regressar. Por acaso, foi isso mesmo que aconteceu, tive de regressar porque o meu visto de estudante tinha terminado e era obrigado a deixar os Estados Unidos. O que encontrei em Lisboa deixou-me por um lado contente e por outro apreensivo. Muitas coisas tinham mudado desde que eu partira, e pareceu-me uma cidade mais vibrante, mais internacional, mas muitas coisas eram o mesmo, uma repetição nauseante de tudo o que eu nunca gostei na minha adolescência e idade adulta. Se tinha saudades? Tinha, mas matei-as depressa.

– Quando voltaste, tomaste mais atenção a esta cidade?
Sim. Olho-a de outro ponto de vista, acho eu. Quem sempre viveu aqui não tem distância (não pode ter) e não tem medidas de comparação. Não é o mesmo ir viajar durante duas semanas ou estar noutro lugar durante dois anos. Não é o lugar que importa em si, é a ausência daquele que deixámos, a transformação de um espaço físico em memórias, nas quais as coisas se distorcem e amplificam. Fica-se com uma noção mais romântica dos sítios e, quando se regressa a eles, já não se perde essa magia. Por isso presto mais atenção aos pormenores, a uma esquina em particular, uma janela, uma rapariga a passar na rua.