Traço preto impresso a laser e colorido com tinta de aguarela
tamanho A4
2015
ZMB
O desenho original foi realizado em 2014
e apresenta um ângulo de visão diferente do apresentado
no seguinte trabalho em óleo sobre tela:
quarta-feira, 30 de setembro de 2015
segunda-feira, 28 de setembro de 2015
Yes. There is every indication that he believes him. But... no evidence at all that he was concerned!
'
I started the crummy and headed off to the boat at the bottom of the hill, trying to get the memory straight. The whole conversation started coming back to me, clear as a bell; I still wasn't sure right then whether it had really happened or was just a dream, but, real or a dream, I could remember it damn near word for word.
It as from Willard Eggleston, the little gink who used to run the laundry. He was all keyed up and excited and so screwy-sounding I thought at first he was actually drunk. I was still about nine-tenths asleep and he was trying to tell me some story about him and the colored girl that used to work for him, and about their child - this was what made me think he was drunk -- about the child the two of them had had. I just listened for a while, polite, like I did with the other calls, but after he rambled on long enough I began to see he wasn't just calling to give me a hard time, that there was something else on his mind behind all of his rambling and roaming talk. I let him go on; pretty soon he drew a long breath and said, "That's the story, Mr. Stamper; just like it happened. Every bit the truth, I don't care what you think." I said, "All right, Willard, I'll go along with you, but --" "Every word of it the Lord's pure truth. I know, I personally know, so I don't care if you go along with me or not --" "All right, all right; but you had more on your mind when you called than telling me how proud you are to be able to sire yourself a pickaninny --" "A boy, Mr. Stamper, a son! and not just sire him; I was able to pay for his way in the world like a man should for his son --" "Okay, have it your way: a son, but --" "-- until you went and made it impossible for a fellow to make profit enough to pay for the overhead --" "I might hafta be showed just exactly how I did that, Willard, but for the sake of argument --" "You've all but bankrupted the whole town; do you need to be showed that?" "All I need is just for you to get on around to what you had on your mind when --" "I'm doing exactly that, Mr. Stamper --" ""-- because there's a lot of other anonymous callers these days waitin' their turn at me; I don't want to tie up the line too long with one when so many --" "I am not anonymous, Mr. Stamper; I want to be sure of that; this is Eggleston, Willard --" "Eggleston; all right, Willard, now just what is it you had to tell me -- other'n your secret loves -- at, ah, twelve-twenty-two in the morning?" "Just this, Mr. Stamper: I'm on my way this very moment to kill myself. Ah? No wise comment? This wasn't what you expected, I'll bet? Not from Willard Eggleston, I'll bet? But it's as true as I'm standing here. You'll see. No, don't try to stop me. And don't try to phone the police, because they couldn't reach the place before I do anyway, and if you phoned they would know I phoned you, wouldn't they? and that I phoned to tell you it was your fault that I was forced into --" "Forced? Willard, now listen --" "Yes, forced, Mr. Stamper. You see, I have a very large policy with double indemnity in case of violent death, naming as beneficiary my son. Of course, until he's twenty-one it will --" "Willard, those companies don't pay on suicide!" "That's why I can't have you telling anyone, Mr. Stamper. You see now? I am dying for my son. I've arranged everything to look like an accident. But if you were to --" "Willard, you know what I think?" "-- to tell anyone about this phone call then I would have died in vain, wouldn't that be true? And your guilt would then be doubled --" "I think that you been seeing too many of your own movies." "No, Mr. Stamper! You wait! I know you people think that I'm totally without courage, that I'm just 'that spineless Willard Eggleston.' But you'll see. Oh yes. And don't bother trying to stop me, my mind is made up." "I ain't trying to stop you from anything, Willard." "You'll see tomorrow; oh yes, you'll see what kind of spine --" "I ain't trying to stop anybody from anything, but you know, that looks to me like a pretty poor excuse for spine as far I'm concerned --" "It's no use trying to talk me out of it." "What I'd call a man with spine is a man able to pay for his kid by living for him, no matter how hard it comes --" "I'm sorry, sorry, but you're just wasting your breath." "-- not by dying for him. That's a lot of crap, Willard, dying for somebody." "Just whistling at the wind, Mr. Stamper." "That's the one thing that everybody in the world can do, ain't it, Willard? is die... living is the hassle." "No use, Mr. Stamper, not the slightest. I've made my decision." "Well, good luck, then, Willard..." "There's no way anyone can -- what" "I said 'Good luck'" "Good luck? Good luck? Then you don't believe I'm going to do it!" "Yeah... I think I do; I think I probably do. But I'm tired, and not thinking too sharp, and 'good luck' is about the best I can offer. " "The best you can offer? Good luck? To someone who --" "Christ almighty, Willard; you want me to read you a page of scripture or something? 'Good luck' seems as good as anything in your case, it's better than 'Have fun.' Or 'Bon voyage.' Or 'Sweet dreams.' Or just plain old 'Good-by.' Let's leave it like that, Willard: Good luck, and I'll toss in the good-by for good measure... okeydoke?" "But I havn't --" "I got to try to get some sleep, Willard. So, with all my heart, good luck --" "-- completely finished telling --" "-- and good-by."
"Stamper!" Willard hears the phone buzz in his ear. "Wait, please..." He stands, surrounded by his three dimly lit reflections, listening to that electric hum. This isn't the way he planned it; not at all. He wonders if he should call back, make the man understand! But he knows calling back won't do any good because the man obviously does believe his story, whether he understands completely or not. Yes. There is every indication that he believes him. But... no evidence at all that he was concerned; not even the slightest!
'
"Sometimes a great notion"
Ken Kesey
Methuen Paperbacks
Copyright 1963, 1964 by Ken Kesey
I started the crummy and headed off to the boat at the bottom of the hill, trying to get the memory straight. The whole conversation started coming back to me, clear as a bell; I still wasn't sure right then whether it had really happened or was just a dream, but, real or a dream, I could remember it damn near word for word.
It as from Willard Eggleston, the little gink who used to run the laundry. He was all keyed up and excited and so screwy-sounding I thought at first he was actually drunk. I was still about nine-tenths asleep and he was trying to tell me some story about him and the colored girl that used to work for him, and about their child - this was what made me think he was drunk -- about the child the two of them had had. I just listened for a while, polite, like I did with the other calls, but after he rambled on long enough I began to see he wasn't just calling to give me a hard time, that there was something else on his mind behind all of his rambling and roaming talk. I let him go on; pretty soon he drew a long breath and said, "That's the story, Mr. Stamper; just like it happened. Every bit the truth, I don't care what you think." I said, "All right, Willard, I'll go along with you, but --" "Every word of it the Lord's pure truth. I know, I personally know, so I don't care if you go along with me or not --" "All right, all right; but you had more on your mind when you called than telling me how proud you are to be able to sire yourself a pickaninny --" "A boy, Mr. Stamper, a son! and not just sire him; I was able to pay for his way in the world like a man should for his son --" "Okay, have it your way: a son, but --" "-- until you went and made it impossible for a fellow to make profit enough to pay for the overhead --" "I might hafta be showed just exactly how I did that, Willard, but for the sake of argument --" "You've all but bankrupted the whole town; do you need to be showed that?" "All I need is just for you to get on around to what you had on your mind when --" "I'm doing exactly that, Mr. Stamper --" ""-- because there's a lot of other anonymous callers these days waitin' their turn at me; I don't want to tie up the line too long with one when so many --" "I am not anonymous, Mr. Stamper; I want to be sure of that; this is Eggleston, Willard --" "Eggleston; all right, Willard, now just what is it you had to tell me -- other'n your secret loves -- at, ah, twelve-twenty-two in the morning?" "Just this, Mr. Stamper: I'm on my way this very moment to kill myself. Ah? No wise comment? This wasn't what you expected, I'll bet? Not from Willard Eggleston, I'll bet? But it's as true as I'm standing here. You'll see. No, don't try to stop me. And don't try to phone the police, because they couldn't reach the place before I do anyway, and if you phoned they would know I phoned you, wouldn't they? and that I phoned to tell you it was your fault that I was forced into --" "Forced? Willard, now listen --" "Yes, forced, Mr. Stamper. You see, I have a very large policy with double indemnity in case of violent death, naming as beneficiary my son. Of course, until he's twenty-one it will --" "Willard, those companies don't pay on suicide!" "That's why I can't have you telling anyone, Mr. Stamper. You see now? I am dying for my son. I've arranged everything to look like an accident. But if you were to --" "Willard, you know what I think?" "-- to tell anyone about this phone call then I would have died in vain, wouldn't that be true? And your guilt would then be doubled --" "I think that you been seeing too many of your own movies." "No, Mr. Stamper! You wait! I know you people think that I'm totally without courage, that I'm just 'that spineless Willard Eggleston.' But you'll see. Oh yes. And don't bother trying to stop me, my mind is made up." "I ain't trying to stop you from anything, Willard." "You'll see tomorrow; oh yes, you'll see what kind of spine --" "I ain't trying to stop anybody from anything, but you know, that looks to me like a pretty poor excuse for spine as far I'm concerned --" "It's no use trying to talk me out of it." "What I'd call a man with spine is a man able to pay for his kid by living for him, no matter how hard it comes --" "I'm sorry, sorry, but you're just wasting your breath." "-- not by dying for him. That's a lot of crap, Willard, dying for somebody." "Just whistling at the wind, Mr. Stamper." "That's the one thing that everybody in the world can do, ain't it, Willard? is die... living is the hassle." "No use, Mr. Stamper, not the slightest. I've made my decision." "Well, good luck, then, Willard..." "There's no way anyone can -- what" "I said 'Good luck'" "Good luck? Good luck? Then you don't believe I'm going to do it!" "Yeah... I think I do; I think I probably do. But I'm tired, and not thinking too sharp, and 'good luck' is about the best I can offer. " "The best you can offer? Good luck? To someone who --" "Christ almighty, Willard; you want me to read you a page of scripture or something? 'Good luck' seems as good as anything in your case, it's better than 'Have fun.' Or 'Bon voyage.' Or 'Sweet dreams.' Or just plain old 'Good-by.' Let's leave it like that, Willard: Good luck, and I'll toss in the good-by for good measure... okeydoke?" "But I havn't --" "I got to try to get some sleep, Willard. So, with all my heart, good luck --" "-- completely finished telling --" "-- and good-by."
"Stamper!" Willard hears the phone buzz in his ear. "Wait, please..." He stands, surrounded by his three dimly lit reflections, listening to that electric hum. This isn't the way he planned it; not at all. He wonders if he should call back, make the man understand! But he knows calling back won't do any good because the man obviously does believe his story, whether he understands completely or not. Yes. There is every indication that he believes him. But... no evidence at all that he was concerned; not even the slightest!
'
"Sometimes a great notion"
Ken Kesey
Methuen Paperbacks
Copyright 1963, 1964 by Ken Kesey
sábado, 26 de setembro de 2015
quinta-feira, 24 de setembro de 2015
Rebate da opinião: «Eram pobres, continuaram pobres.»
"
quiseram pintar o ajustamento como letal para os mais fracos, mas quem o pagou foi a classe média. Este sinceramente vosso conduz um Opel Astra, não passa fins de semana em Formentera e viu retido 40% do seu rendimento. Durante estes anos habituei-me a ver doentes que ficaram desempregados com mais de dois anos de subsídio de desemprego. Estes não fariam a revolução. Os miúdos foram para fora sem grandes queixumes. Sobraram os velhos e os pensionistas: a verdade é que nem de perto nem de longe o aperto deles se comparou ao da classe média. Eram pobres, continuaram pobres.
"
É certo que os pobres não fazem a revolução mas não considero correcto que se possa dizer 'Eram pobres, continuaram pobres'.
Eu penso que se eram pobres, ficaram ainda mais pobres e outros que não eram pobres, se tornaram pobres. Basta reparar que o limiar da pobreza é de 420€. Muitos velhos e pensionistas e desempregados, pobres e miseráveis não ganham 420 euros por mês. Aliás, num outro blogue há tempos li uma máxima dizendo que a diferença entre um pobre e um miserável é um pobre ainda ter dinheiro. E não é o mesmo cortar 300 euros de rendimento em contribuições e impostos extraordinários a um agregado familiar de classe média e cortar o rendimento mínimo em igual valor a um casal de pobres.
Podia dar o meu exemplo: trabalhava pelo salário mínimo, tive um ano de subsídio de 420 euros, depois seis meses de subsídio social de 300 euros, depois pedi o RSI durante um ano no valor de 178 euros, e durante todo este tempo tive de pagar uma renda para um quarto no valor de 150 euros. Podia dizer que em 2012 cozinhava três refeições em casa para mim e hoje só cozinho o jantar, o pequeno almoço foi eliminado e o almoço é no refeitório social da ordem dos fransciscanos, pelo qual não pago nada. Portanto, eu pelo menos fiquei mais pobre, e para não ficar miserável reformei-me por invalidez. Devido à minha condição psiquiátrica e também aproveitando o facto de já no passado os meus médicos me terem aconselhado a reformar, reformei-me com 260 euros mensais. Podia dizer também que, se as reformas antecipadas não estivessem congeladas, eu poderia reformar-me com um valor superior de pensão, dado que cheguei a fazer descontos como classe média num período da minha vida profissional. Portanto e deste ponto de vista, eu tive um corte definitivo e não extraordinário na minha pensão, além de ser mais difícil, agora, eu obter autorização futura se quiser voltar ao activo.
Sou apenas pobre e não miserável. Obrigaram-me a amansar. Aceitei a minha condição e, por isso, já nem me considero muito em risco. Vivo como o governo actual disse que tinhamos de viver, vivo dentro das minhas possibilidades. Quando os meus pais morrerem, será pior.
Mas vamos falar de miseráveis:
que dizer da família (pai, mãe e dois rapazes adolescentes) que almoçam comigo todos os dias na caridade?,
que dizer do casal que vive num quarto sem cozinha e que perdeu o RSI e ela agora está à porta da igreja a pedir e ele a arrumar carros?,
que dizer de um colega quase na idade da reforma que paga 160 euros de quarto e quase ia perdendo o RSI quando esteve a ponto de cair numa máfia que lhe prometia mil euros nas vindimas em Espanha?
Como imagina, doutor, que estas pessoas vivem? Ou, se não estão nas estatísticas, então estes cidadãos não existem?
Elas certamente não têm dinheiro para pagar um psicólogo ou psicoterapeuta, nem o estado comparticipa consultas privadas de acompanhamento psicológico... e portanto poderá, penso eu, não conhecer este submundo com rigor.
Quando muito têm uma assistente social que está sempre a perguntar se fez algum biscate no último mês ou se a família ajudou com trinta euros para a botija de gás. Para que, seguindo as directivas de cortes do ministério, poder cortar o rendimento porque as regras são: quem recebe os 178 euros do RSI não pode ter mais rendimentos nem que seja ocasionais, senão deixa de ter direito à prestação social.
E perante tais regras, como pode a economia paralela não crescer?
quiseram pintar o ajustamento como letal para os mais fracos, mas quem o pagou foi a classe média. Este sinceramente vosso conduz um Opel Astra, não passa fins de semana em Formentera e viu retido 40% do seu rendimento. Durante estes anos habituei-me a ver doentes que ficaram desempregados com mais de dois anos de subsídio de desemprego. Estes não fariam a revolução. Os miúdos foram para fora sem grandes queixumes. Sobraram os velhos e os pensionistas: a verdade é que nem de perto nem de longe o aperto deles se comparou ao da classe média. Eram pobres, continuaram pobres.
"
É certo que os pobres não fazem a revolução mas não considero correcto que se possa dizer 'Eram pobres, continuaram pobres'.
Eu penso que se eram pobres, ficaram ainda mais pobres e outros que não eram pobres, se tornaram pobres. Basta reparar que o limiar da pobreza é de 420€. Muitos velhos e pensionistas e desempregados, pobres e miseráveis não ganham 420 euros por mês. Aliás, num outro blogue há tempos li uma máxima dizendo que a diferença entre um pobre e um miserável é um pobre ainda ter dinheiro. E não é o mesmo cortar 300 euros de rendimento em contribuições e impostos extraordinários a um agregado familiar de classe média e cortar o rendimento mínimo em igual valor a um casal de pobres.
Podia dar o meu exemplo: trabalhava pelo salário mínimo, tive um ano de subsídio de 420 euros, depois seis meses de subsídio social de 300 euros, depois pedi o RSI durante um ano no valor de 178 euros, e durante todo este tempo tive de pagar uma renda para um quarto no valor de 150 euros. Podia dizer que em 2012 cozinhava três refeições em casa para mim e hoje só cozinho o jantar, o pequeno almoço foi eliminado e o almoço é no refeitório social da ordem dos fransciscanos, pelo qual não pago nada. Portanto, eu pelo menos fiquei mais pobre, e para não ficar miserável reformei-me por invalidez. Devido à minha condição psiquiátrica e também aproveitando o facto de já no passado os meus médicos me terem aconselhado a reformar, reformei-me com 260 euros mensais. Podia dizer também que, se as reformas antecipadas não estivessem congeladas, eu poderia reformar-me com um valor superior de pensão, dado que cheguei a fazer descontos como classe média num período da minha vida profissional. Portanto e deste ponto de vista, eu tive um corte definitivo e não extraordinário na minha pensão, além de ser mais difícil, agora, eu obter autorização futura se quiser voltar ao activo.
Sou apenas pobre e não miserável. Obrigaram-me a amansar. Aceitei a minha condição e, por isso, já nem me considero muito em risco. Vivo como o governo actual disse que tinhamos de viver, vivo dentro das minhas possibilidades. Quando os meus pais morrerem, será pior.
Mas vamos falar de miseráveis:
que dizer da família (pai, mãe e dois rapazes adolescentes) que almoçam comigo todos os dias na caridade?,
que dizer do casal que vive num quarto sem cozinha e que perdeu o RSI e ela agora está à porta da igreja a pedir e ele a arrumar carros?,
que dizer de um colega quase na idade da reforma que paga 160 euros de quarto e quase ia perdendo o RSI quando esteve a ponto de cair numa máfia que lhe prometia mil euros nas vindimas em Espanha?
Como imagina, doutor, que estas pessoas vivem? Ou, se não estão nas estatísticas, então estes cidadãos não existem?
Elas certamente não têm dinheiro para pagar um psicólogo ou psicoterapeuta, nem o estado comparticipa consultas privadas de acompanhamento psicológico... e portanto poderá, penso eu, não conhecer este submundo com rigor.
Quando muito têm uma assistente social que está sempre a perguntar se fez algum biscate no último mês ou se a família ajudou com trinta euros para a botija de gás. Para que, seguindo as directivas de cortes do ministério, poder cortar o rendimento porque as regras são: quem recebe os 178 euros do RSI não pode ter mais rendimentos nem que seja ocasionais, senão deixa de ter direito à prestação social.
E perante tais regras, como pode a economia paralela não crescer?
terça-feira, 22 de setembro de 2015
Why is it so easy to believe that the UK super-rich have sex with pigs?
Um artigo na webzine boingboing.net
Os rituais da sociedade secreta dos 1%,
the dogs cum on the pigs and the pigs whip the sheep:
Julianna Menna
'The lady'
oil on board
Julianna Menna
uma artista cujo trabalho encontrei no meu feed do linkedIn
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