Wednesday, November 30, 2005


Critics and Art
by Laila Chris

Creating is art
The art of creating shapes, shades, showcases
First language
Primal process

Critics interpretations
Second thought
Redundancy of over explanations

New information
Against exaggerations
Repetitive diagnosis
Higher amount of grotesque translations

Hate critics
When they don’t expand
When they don’t turn comprehensible
The things that are not that way

Creating a new process
The process of art making
Words on frames
Notes in chapters
Chords in conclusions

Reading response
Critics should evaluate
Criticism isn’t appraisal
No judgments of value
But measurements of merits

Critics are investigators
(A different sense of music,
or literature)
A critical study implies historical context
Social description, again not appraisal
(A different sense of music,
or literature)
Radically distant from judging wine, cigars, food, or Playboy magazines

A proposition
The embryo of philosophy of art
A theory, not a mere quarrel

Art as a human activity
Art as an essential practice:
Musical compositions,

Spontaneous expressions of emotional disturbances,
Craving beautiful things,
Fears, phobias, desiring mates,
A special form to contemplate nature

Critics’ role is indeed
Overcome those experiments,
Executions, (de)codifications, and meanings

Art consumers may address that
A third consumption
Aesthetics appreciation

Tuesday, November 22, 2005

Let us blog until our fingertips bleed...

According to a survey on a site of business technology, PERSEUS, there are about 5 billion blogs subscribed now. In 2005, 45 million have been started so far. 10 million blogs were created just during the first 4 months of this year. Following some math logics, by the end of 2005, the web will have stored 50 million new blogs. This non-stop growth in blogging is given to the easy process of acquiring one: fast steps, some clicks away, already-made templates, then "bam" - 'your blog has been published.'

Undoubtly, that is a huge number! There are no no, too many blogs floating in the world wide web. Can all these spots really exist? How many bloggers would be posting right now simultaneously with me? What about readers? Do we have enough readers to compensate all the efforts for being here in front of a computer screen managing topics, tagging, uploading pictures, and doing whatever takes to have a post in the end? Who are these bloggers anyway?

The site survey states that most bloggers are female young students (51% - young male + female). They make use of this tool to post as many things as they wish, which are normally their daily school activities or any other personal fact. The posts will be read by their peers, fellow students, or family members; those are readers that the site calls "nanoaudiences." These young folks do not blog for a professional, religious, or any concrete purposes. A typical teen blogger will post twice a month about happenings in their lives by using a mix of lowercase and caps lock letters, overusing typos and abbreviations, and misspelling the words deliberately so they will appear the way they sound.

Right below them, there I am. ...Or better typing, there WE ARE (44% - male+female) -- since most of my readers fit in this group-- Blogging is a social phenomenon among young adults. Most adult bloggers are individuals under the age of 30. Women are majority here again. The reason female folks create more blogs is countless, but one thing is certain: male bloggers are more likely than female ones to abandon blogs. This is maybe because these spots are so easy to be created and free from charge mostly that there is a lack of commitment in keeping them updated. Only in my list of links located on the left of your screen, there are probably 8 or 9 dormant spots - three of them are mine.

Those 5 billion blogs do exist, however there are not as many bloggers posting as there are those spots. That means, many blogs are started but later on they are abandoned. Since there are so many non-active blogs, out of 5 billion subscriptions, 20 million only are actually in use - information based on that site I previously mentioned in this entry. So, there is a slight chance that 10 million people might be posting now. And yet, one million give up blogging a day, among these folks are Sassy, Kris, Bulb, Roberto, Lu, me... Let's get back on posting guys!!!

Let us blog more and more until our fingertips bleed...

Monday, November 21, 2005 Fernando Pessoa

I am the escaped one

I am the escaped one,
After I was born
They locked me up inside me
But I left.
My soul seeks me,
Through hills and valley,
I hope my soul
Never finds me.

Thursday, November 17, 2005

Verão, tu cala a boca, ou te cago a pau!!!

About six months ago, I published here a post about Brazilian winter. We did have pretty harsh cold days for some time this year which made me think "this can't be Brazil!". It was awesome.

Being a continental country, it's no wonder to find chilly regions where one should drag down portable heaters or have it installed in each room of the house in order to survive through the season. I even mentioned about this to Bulb in one of our last chats and he got surprised. On his mind, according to his words, there was that stereotypical brazilian picture of a tropical land where girls would walk along with thongs and the sun would shine and heat up paradisiac beaches... something like we'd have summer throughout the year.

I must agree that summer lasts for 6 months in some parts of the nation, instead of 4 which is taught in geography classes. ...but what happens during the 6 remaining months? I can call it a 'slight summer'. The northernmost parts of Brazil do have warm temperatures throughout the year. For those who care for this kind of weather, that would be the best place to be. Not for me. Therefore I've chosen to live not too far from PATAGONIA.(he!he!he!)

To my opinion, the heat of the sun isn't much appealing. Not everyone I know around here will agree to me. It does not matter what the common sense says; I just don't see the beauty of the summer if I don't actually live by the beach. Even if I lived at the seashore, I have always worked so I would not have time to enjoy the water. I am saying this for a fact because I did live in a Floridian beach town for five years (98-2002) and I enjoyed the ocean maybe three times.

OK! So I don't have fun with beaches because I don't really like them. Summer does not suit me because sweating all over is not connected to pleasure according to my senses. High temperatures are not my cup of tea. I despise air conditioners and I am not a big fan of "f a n s". Regardless, "summer-like" weather has arrived. Although my distress towards this season, I confess that last weekend I did relax in the sun. I put on bikinis, stretched my fanny on the floor, rubbed my skin with suntan lotion... oops, I had forgotten to wear sunglasses. Oh well, I did want to look like a raccoon afterwards.

Was I on the beach? Not really. All that happened in the terrace, right here on the back of my house. Wouldn't it be more relaxing if I could be at the beach? NO. The sand, the crowd, the crawling creatures, the lack of bathrooms, the flying insects, you name it... Nah!!!! Did I end up having fun? Probably so, but that doesn't happen all the time. Like I said, I work so I can't lie in the sun every day, and when weekend comes, it normally rains.

I tried to convince me that maybe, possibly, perhaps there would be at least one thing that I may enjoy about hot weather. I failed. I miss the cold days already. It'll take six more months for them to reappear. Ah! ...and one more thing, I concluded that it does not make much of a sense for Brazilian Santa Claus to wear that heavy red coat or climb up chimneys, doesn't it? This is definitely a reverse place.

Wednesday, November 16, 2005


I hate telephone. Hate cellphones even worse. I hate anything that has keypad such as remote controls, cordless phone speakers, and cellphones. I lose them all the time. I can't even tell the difference among the VCR, television, DVD player, and the stereo remotes. It is so useless to have something that was invented to make our lives easier but in fact they make me mad. They burn in my hands and help me lose hair. They never work for me. I sure suffer from technology dislexia because I can never point them to the right direction. I still change channels by using the best device - my finger tips. I can never make a call with my cellphone. I always dial the wrong keys. I never listen to it when it rings. When I listen to it, I get the calls too late. If there are messages, I don't know how to check them. If I check, I don't know how to erase them. So I don't get rid of them. I keep'em as long as they wanna be there in that little machine which was created to give me headaches. Then you wonder, "Why did she get one in first place?" In fact, I've never bought them. "THEM?" Yeah. I own two cellphones. I still have the first one my mom gave me in 2002 which I used once or twice. Hope she does not read this because she paid an arm and a leg for that so sophisticated model. I gave up carrying that one because of its complexity to turn it on!!! Enough, I said. Then Roberto gave me another one three months ago. This is definitely easier to manage, yet it is too much for "my fragile little mind." Thank God, I do not get to take pictures or send e-mails with it, because that would be the worst code I'd have to break. Don't get me started with the garage door and the car remote controls. This computer keyboard that I am using right now is more simple then the number of times I have to press the keys of the car control so that I can have the anti-theft alarm activated and the windows shut. Again, I know I suffer from some sort of disorder and that my condition gets worse with time... What is left to solve this problem? I got a special box so that I can keep in it all the remotes together. Now, I don't lose them so often. And cellphone? I am trying to be patient with myself and read the manual carefully for the third time. This time, I'll have to nail that machine. No, no, no, I still can't get some calls through... I'm gonna call the company and find out what the problem is... It can't be me again!!!

Friday, November 11, 2005

Paulo Leminski Words - The best Brazilian poet of all times!!!

by Paulo Leminski

This language isn't mine.
It's plain as day.
When meaning goes away,
the word stays behind.
Maybe I'm just lying.
Or am I lying truth?
So I say myself - just,
Maybe - I can barely say.
This isn't my tongue.
The language I speak mutes
a distant song,
the voice, beyond, not a word.
The dialect you utilize
on the left bank of the phrase,
that's what does it, lusifies
me, half, maybe, inside.


Came the hard way down
the neverending line,
line striking stone,
word kickin round the corner,
tiny empty line,
a line a life, entire,
word, word of mine.

nothing the sun
can’t speak
all the moon
more chic
no rain fades
this flower


one of these days i wanna be
a great english poet
of the last century
o sky o sea o folk o destiny
fight in india, 1866,
disappear in a clandestine shipwreck


put me out
thin me down
chop me up
after me
after us
after everything
nothing’s left
but the charm


between external duty
and eternal doubt
my commercial
heart goes


a crazy mutt
we really should kill him
with sticks and rocks
at the stake with one shot
or else he’s likely
the little prick
to piss all over
our picnic


a poem
not gotten
is worthy of note
of a drifting boat


back then
we were gonna be homer
the work an iliad no less
but then
it got a little harder
we’d settle for a Rimbaud
an Ungaretti a Fernando any old Pessoa
a Lorca an Eluard a Ginsberg
and then
the provincial poeticule
we always were
behind so many masks
time treated as flowers


as if i were julio plaza
of pure perception
be critique
of reason


two village idiots
one spends his days
kicking lampposts to see if they’ll turn on
the other his nights
rubbing words
off white paper
every village has an idiot
it treats with sympathy
in a little while i know
they’ll be treating me


i never wanted to be
a good customer
asking for this or that
red wine
hasta la vista
i wanted to go in
both feet planted
on the doorman’s chest
telling the mirror
- shut up
and the clock
- hands down


a good poem
takes years:
five playing soccer,
five more studying sanskrit,
six carrying stones,
nine falling for your neighbor,
seven taking a beating,
four going it alone,
three changing cities,
ten changing the subject,
an eternity, me and you
along together


Monday, November 7, 2005

and old poem that seems to fit so well today...


lonely loner for long long long time...

Thursday, November 3, 2005

a pointless post...

I found this sort of post in other blogs around. Don't understand the main purpose of it, however I have a major fun by listing things... This one was not much different:

Three names I go by:
1. Lailouca;

2. Krishina;
3. Lailets;

Three screen names I have had: I change nicks every second throughout the day, so here I'll register the last three...

1. Kris;
2. I will eat your soul;
3. lailAAA;

Three physical things I like about myself:
1. I love the fact that I stink;
2. I love my hairy mole cluster located on my chin. It gives people the creeps;
3. I love my eleventh toe.

Three physical things I don't like about myself:

1. My big ass... It makes me look fatter than I am;
2. I hate my pinkish lips - it alters other colors of lipsticks;
3. I hate my bad-hair days;

Three parts of my heritage:
1. Portuguese Jewish
2. Brazilian Native Indian
3. Spanish Moros

Three things that scare me:
1. being robbed;
2. left out friendless;
3. beerless fridges;

Three of my everyday essentials:

1. strong black coffee
2. make up
3. internet

Three of my favorite musical artists:

1. Yo La Tengo
2. Brazilian Music Sucks
3. David Gray

Three of my favorite songs:

1. D
2. Eleonor Rigby
3. Cats in a Bowl

Three things I want in a relationship:
1. to have a relationship;
2. to have the urge to live that relationship;
3. never get bored while experiencing that relationship;

Three LIES:

1. I am Martian.
2. I don't pick my nose.
3. I will live forever.


1. I love being bugged.
2. I like melancholic art.
3. I must get back on poetry writing.

Three things about the opposite sex that appeal to me:

1. Wit.
2. Assertiveness.
3. Confusion.

Three of my favorite hobbies:

1. listening to people whining.
2. reading.
3. watching thrillers.

Three things I want to do really badly now:

1. get a ticket to Europe;
2. get me a digital camera;
3. finish up my book;

Three occupations I have already considered having:

1. An architect;
2. A journalist;
3. A screenwriter;

Three places I want to go on vacation:

1. Iceland
2. Bariloche
3. Osaka

Three kid's names I like:
1. Annaïs
2. Ian
3. Chelsea

Three things I want to do before I die:

1. Own a llama
2. Get the master's degree accomplished
3. Have a book published

Three ways that I am stereotypically a boy:

1. I like burping loud;
2. I love skateboarding although I can't make those tricks.
3. I can only wear sneakers - higheels give me blisters.

Three ways that I am stereotypically a girl:

1. I love make-up... lots of it;
2. I have notebooks and journals written with colored scented pens;
3. I cry for nothing... all the time!

Three celebrity crushes:

1. Marlon Brandon
2. Ethan Hawke
3. Gavin Rossdale

What was I thinking to let this post be part of my blog??? BULL.... I guess... Oh well... It's my own spot so I must publish here whatever the f*** I want!!!

Tuesday, November 1, 2005

Wanted Friends - Welcome to adulthood

All my friends are away, especially those from my hometown. None of them continued living there, neither did I. They all took different paths and I had to do it too.

As I have already mentioned in many other posts in this blog, I've lived in 5 other places before settling down here and for that reason it was inevitable to make friends or just acquaintances in all those places. I met people that were very special at that moment. They helped me out in difficult situations. Their help was more than welcome especially because being far from both family and the country where I was from, that young, may have sounded way fun but it was pretty challenging.

These folks (good friends) appeared so connected so linked that we even made sure to exchange our homeland addresses and phone numbers so that we could keep track of ourselves afterwards. It's sad but this is so true that most of them have not tried hard enough to contact me. All that friendship seems now useless, fake, or merely favor exchanges. As a result, I must say to myself - WELCOME TO ADULTHOOD!

On the other hand, some of them have kept in touch for all those years and others have just returned from the 'shadows'. After almost 7 straight years, I finally got the chance to have the contact of a great friend back. It was a bit of a shock and at the same time a gift... a shocking gift. I received a wonderful e-mail and since then our friendship has growned. I can say that it is now much stronger than before when we had the chance to hold hands.

Friends are my armor. I respect all those who meant their deeds, favors, and help. They place faith back in my heart. No matter the distances and how long they don't keep track... as far as I can get to know they are or will be there, that is what matters in the end. I just wish I could make real friends more often like that one I mentioned above . It is so painful to accept the fact that the older we get, the harder it is to make new friends... yeah - once again - Welcome to adulthood!

5 days late...