THE BLOG

AAAA New IDeas

Robots perfeitos, quase humanos… Blade Runner, Alien…

capazes de tudo… menos de rir,… se um deles entender uma piada, eles literalmente se destroem de rir, como se fossem “morrer de rir”…

 


 

Left hear hearing oK; not the right one; sound reflected; story about and extraordinary hearing capability

 

 


 

A Nasa derrubando um satélite… que se choca com o aviao do presidente, que cai no mar com a capsula de vida dele e fica flutuando na agua sendo levada cpor uma corrente….

 


 

Uma pessoa desconhecida dizendo ‘Dia de vez em quando ao passar pela porta do meu escritório. Falar da solidao das pessoas que passam por ali, não contacto com a mae.

Até que ela morre e não recebo mais um ‘Dia////

 

 


 

 

Last day: o amigo anunciando a morte no funeral e falando dos capítulos que vêm a seguir.

Cada dia: um aspecto da vida, com uma auto-crítica feroz e a busca por uma solucao na esposa, filhos, amigos e religiões.

 

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Colocar entre cada parágrafo, uma cena de praia, pensando na historia a seguir… e na forma como escritores escrevem

 

 

4 h da matina… nao consigo dormir… algo estranho me incomoda… minha esposa dorme…

tudo calmo na rua… inclusive a mulher que chega do trabalho no bar às 4:30 (falar do rape, ajuda do dono do bar…)

 

Assusto-me com minha mulher falando comigo e voltando a dormir….

 

Algo esta para acontecer….

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No meu edificio, pelas obras, o zelador passa para ver se esta tudo bem. Numa dessas, batem à porta é um robô que substituiu o zelador. Descubro que todos são robôs, inclusive eu quando vou tomar meu “óleo”diário das 5h…
Dá para discutir as classes sociais na substituiçao do zelador por um robo pequeno mas versatil…
Nisto, eu acordo com gente batendo à porta…. vou atender?
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Nos dois pasises vizinhos, sou cidadao dos dois, com 34 % de sangue por causa da Lei 34 por causa da consanguinidade…
Meu avo misterioso, meu pai pintor, com um quadro com mensagem cifrada escondendo algo.
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By the sea, my most pleasant time is when I walk along the ocean line watching the waves trying to catch with its foam and mesmerizing movement. I feel like a child playing a game where I advance fearlessly on the wet sand until a wave advances over me to get me. I can walk miles while playing this game.
Or, when there are dunes, I run on them, roll down or just lay there spread eagle enjoying the wind, the sun and the little particles flowing from the sand.
Occasionally, like today, I also carry my camera and let my imagination see little things like an orange shell partially drenched in the sand or a big scenery like the gorgeous sunset approaching, with the right amount of clouds in the sky, strategically positioned close to the Sun.
It all promises colorful pictures seen from the dunes I am on, trying to find the best position to create a dreamy scenario. I then saw a woman standing close to the waves looking at the sunset too. She was at my right while no other person could be seen around.
She looked at both sides and, not seeing anybody, not even me, took off her clothes and put on a loose white tunic running almost to her feet. She then opened her arms and legs forming a five-pointed star while facing the setting Sun.
She stayed in that position for many minutes while I was sneakely watching her and occasionally taking her picture. I could almost swear that I starting to see a dim light surrounding her, but I thought it was just the reflection of the sunset on her white tunic. Suddenly, and I couldn’t believe my eyes, her feet slowly left the ground… She was levitating!… I rubbed my eyes! That was impossible! Nevertheless, she was getting higher, more than two feet above the ground. She stayed there, just floating, almost motionless, until she started gently spinning, her eyes closed. Then, supreme impossibility, she gave some circular passing flying over the water and back.
I was so amazed and puzzled at the same time that I lost my balance and roll back on the dune, covering my eyes and mouth in sand. When I finally recovered, still spitting sand, I heard a voice:
“Come with me?” – There she was, barely above the ground, her body resplendent with light, offering her hands to take me. A bit reluctant, I offered my left hand to her while I grabbed my camera with the right one.
When I touched her, I felt immediately a pleasant fullfillment of energy, similar to a weak electrical shock, but absolutely harmless and pleasing. Gradually, I felt lighter and I started seeing my surroundings in different colors and light shades. The dunes, for instance, became darker where there was shade and brighter where there was light; the vegetation around became brightly greener with mysterious and colorful plumes emanating from the existing flowers. The sea water not only became more transparent, but I also could see denser parts flowing like a river within a river. “Energy flowing”, I thought, “the energy that makes oceans so attrractive”. I looked at her in awe. She smilled at me, as an indication that she was giving me explanations on what I was seeing and feeling.
I cannot describe I what I felt when I saw the sunset: iniminageble colors, vibrating rays coming from the sky and warmth provided by the Sun.
Although seemingly impossible, I was flying end enjoying it without any fear that I could end up falling. Actually, it seemed that, when I was thinking about this possibility, I would become heavier and more difficult to make the maneuvers she was leading me to make, up to a point that she would look at me as saying “Enjoy the ride, don’t panic!” and I would continue trying to absorve as much joy as I could do, even occasinally taking a picture.
I don’t know exactly how long we flew together, but judging from the sunset, it could have been half an hour or more. I was starting to get a bit dizzy or, maybe, drowsy because my vision was starting to get blurry, my body heavier and my senses were not as acute as before. She gently drove us down to the place where I was originally and, the last thing I remember, she let me rest there…
When I woke up, it was already dark. I was lying on the cold sand still holding my camera. There were no stars, but I could hear the waves crashing continuously somewhere farther back. I stood up and saw the shore line. It was magnificent! The lines formed by the tip of the waves were iridescent just like I have never seen before. There were millions of small blue lights on the sand close to where waves crashed that disappearead when I stepped over them. I followed the shore line to get to the dim lights from village I was staying in.
I was anxious to download my pictures and see my advanture. What a disappointment! After the picture above, every picture, one after the other, were blurred without recognition. Even the ones I took when I first saw the woman at the beach. I saw the pictures on my display on the camera! Did I sleep on the sand and, in my dreams I involuntarily pressed the shutter thus photographing something wrong?
One by one, hundreds of pictures, absolutelly useless! Until… the last one!

meu pai contando historias ao redor do fogao… A vendedora de fosforos…

Meu sonho era ter uma varinha de condao…

Meu pai explicando esta impossibilidade que hoje é a loteria, etc,./.

All day long, I was feeling my eyes sore and irritated. At night, I used a few eye drops and went to bed tired. In the morning, I woke up blind…
Incrongruencias da vida moderna das cidades como:
. estacionamentos pagos;
. construçoes privadas obstruindo vias públicas;
. marcha à ré de tratores fazendo bip-bip;
No café, eu e uma repórter falando sobre meu último e grande salto no espaço (bungeejump) com perguntas difíceis
Cardeal chamado pelo papa para responder acusacoes de pedofilia,.. el e é irmao gemeo do real pedofilo
História do Professor Babao
Caso do engenhiero eletronico que foi atingido por um raio no dia da formatura
Futuro com alta vigilancia que toma conta da sociedade e entao lentamente se destroi por seerem maquinas sem manutencao
História do pai que nao ve o filho e a ex a muito tempo. o filho convida para um jantar e chega muito atrasado. a namorada nao fala muito. o filho nao paga a conta. o filho propoe um negócio escuso. no p’roximo encontro, o pai chega atrasado 5 minutos de proposito e o filho ja foi embora brabo. a noiva chega e conta que é polcial mas foi traida pelo filho e pelo chefe.

For my own consumption and understanding, I have been informally studying Art directly related to its all branches of painting along with my work in Photography. This study has no clear path nor any rigid program to be followed; I read and see as much information as I can without any commitment.In fact, I have been trying to trace a parallel between Painting and Photography and this is what I found out so far. Note that these are my conclusions and they may be way overboard:

  1. Artistic painters were the first photoshoppers and are always going to be photoshoppers: the expression “Artistic Licence” tells it all: the artist is going to work on a piece of art according to his/her artistic interpretation of the reality. In other words, the resulting artwork may resemble the reality in various grades of fidelity. Talking only about Painting, and taking my own “photographic licence”, this is, no doubts, photoshopping because the artist removed, add, twisted and turned reality onto a canvas. The exception that validates this “rule” is Hyperrealism. But, then again, who guarantees that the artist didn’t remove or add things here and there?
  2. Artistic painters were the first and are always going to use filter effects: In fact, they were the creators of the filters. Take any artistic style like Expressionism, Naturalism, Cubism, etc. They all have their own characteristics of representation or, as I wish, they make use of one or more filter effects to distort reality in such a way that it produces artwork matching the particular style in question.
Nos filmes de ficção, porque ninguém leva uma câmera? Todo o mundo filma…
Filme Shadows in the Sun – Harvey Keitel – Na taverna, eles conversando, e o jovem escritor nao fala italiano. Como se entender? No telefone, o dono da taberna falando com Harvey em Italiano e o outro ouvindo mas nao fala italiano.
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Conto sobre ela se liberando do marido que fica no sofa… saindo com as amigas… o sofa é tao velho que uma mola poderá entrar pelo cu e matar e ele ficar la se nao for por ela…
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SAelfies
Tirando selfies noto um envelhecimento. todos envelhecem 1 célula por dia. Sera que todo o mundo esta morrendo por causa dos selfies?
Na d;ecada de 50, se n~ao me engano, éUm homem se aproxima de outro num bar do aeroporto, que é um famoso escritor incógnito para ver o dia a dia e escrever mais historias. Ele escreveu um conto de leitura do pensamento numa nave espacial e este outro homem adivinha todos os seus pensamentos e começa a aterrorizar o escritor.
 História do conjunto de rock medíocre cujas letras prenunciavam eventos, catástrofes, etc.

Historia sobre acabar os alfabetos…

Simples olhares revelam grandes historias… No filme de Chopin com george sand

Ruth Gruber, a life worth living!

I already had some information about her but this article, in my opinion, succinctly depicts her life dedicated to exposing, through her lenses and writings, degrading human conditions to the world.

Her work was daring and risky indeed. Meanwhile, I… Well, I… Didn’t do anything! Neither did I do anything relevant to the human kind, nor in terms of Photography, and not even in terms of writing something capable of catching the attention of some distracted passersby.

That’s a confession; a confession with the power of making me sell all my possessions, take off my clothes and run amok through the cold Winter.

Really? That brutal? Let me dare explain how I understand it might work.

In the beginning, there are only “guh-guh, dah-dahs”. Slowly, the baby essays some incipient syllables, then words, then sentences, then concepts and then complete ideas that might be dependent from what is commonly known in the scientific circles as “cerebral conditions” in which we present a behavior based on our early experiences and ability the have a proper brain formation.

Decadence / Decadência

The bright colors on the walls still display how the place was vibrant and popular to dance, have a good company and have some drinks. Cars jammed the adjacent streets carrying couples conjuring moments of expected passion swarming in the large rooms full of lively music, laughs and continuous agitation. Love stories had new hope by a column protected from the light; sad stories also had their endings at corner tables.

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Voynich

He was dying of old age and all the members of his family, present in the large salon, knew it. They were not there to mourn him with a torrent of tears, or to tell jokes about his life, or to have free meals. They were there because their mutual vibrations were going to help him to make a gentle transition. Their grave but serene expressions were bringing the balmy breeze needed on this occasion. At the right time, his lungs would stop breathing and his heart would stop pumping the vital fluid.

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Awakening

This is the last chapter of a three-part story. Click here to go back to the second one or the first one.

“Another day at the office. I don’t care anymore whether the enemy is going to hear me or not. I stopped counting the days and I don’t remember when I first arrived at this hole. The hours go by very slowly with the snow and the wind witnessing my agony while I wait for the enemy to arrive. I am already wishing it comes to put an end to this agony”!

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Day At The Office

“Another day at the office!”, I said to myself, just to shut my mouth off and stayed motionless, almost without breathing, checking for other sounds around. Nobody should know I am here, specially the enemy.

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Hand-Colored

I still remember, when I was around 6 years old, my father taking us to our monthly visit to his brother and my aunt in the outskirts. It was almost a ritual: we would have an earlier lunch at home, take the bus, arrive at my uncle’s place by 2 PM, have some socialization there, followed by coffee with fresh biscuits, bread and jelly at 4 PM and finally, at 5 PM, we would take the bus back to home, arriving just on time for my father to listen to the Sunday’s sports news on the radio.

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Adeste Fideles

Nobody really knows much about the origins of Adeste Fideles (translated to “O Come, All ye Faithful“) as some scholars say the English were its creators where others say the Portuguese first introduced its tune, all around the 17th Century. Actually, some even say that Adeste Fideles was a tune used in popular shows and then adopted by French and German monks, serious Latin verses were added to it to become a Christmas Carol. Some verses also varies from four to eight depending on the event.

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Cars, Framed!

At least for me, a 30 minutes stroll after lunch with my camera helps me to relax my body, to clear my mind and to keep me focused on my micro photography projects. At night, I take a look at the pictures, usually not more than 15, I select two or three possessing a reasonable quality and throw out the remaining ones.

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Never Seen This Before

This post does not need many words as the images speak for themselves.

The picture up top, taken in the morning with the mist, was touched to apply a bit of sharpening only while the one below got a bit of noise reduction (I needed to take it handheld as my tripod was not available at the moment) and some sharpening. The bands you see at the horizon line were really there. No gimmicks!

In the Evening.

In the Evening.