30 coisas que você nunca vai ouvir de um paulistano

estou em dúvida entre o item 22 e 23. Ainda não sei qual desses falar primeiro .


1. Vem de carro? Pega a Rebouças, melhor coisa.

2. A avenida do Estado está cada vez mais aconchegante.

3. Pra mim chega, vou me mudar pra Guarulhos.

4. Um minhocão é pouco, tinha que ter uns cinco.

5. Eu pego a linha cento e setenta e sete ípsilon traço dez.

6. Ah, o São Vito… Doces memórias.

7. Você está certo, caro ciclista, aquela luz vermelha é pra todo mundo menos pra você.

8. Nossa, achei que você, que está com colete laranja e prancheta na Paulista, nunca viria falar comigo. Pois não?

9. Não sei onde você mora, mas em SP todos os taxistas sabem chegar a qualquer lugar. E rápido.

10. Pode sair do vagão, eu espero.

11. A 23 tá uma delícia.

12. Os motoboys estão buzinando pouco, que estranho.

13. Pelo menos o taxista veio ouvindo Sonic Youth. 

14. Pitta, melhor prefeito.

15. Ponte Octavio…

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How hungry next time?

The Boy Hero

This crazy place where gold sits in plain view beside an ideal

And a hungry man steals the ideal

Makes from it a simple piece and wears it proudly in the streets

For everyone to admire.


How hungry must he be to let gold hang from someone else’s neck

To leave it on the field

To let it gild marble walls and lofty altars

And languish in vaults?


How hungry to toss together rickety foundations of refuse

And mounting them, raise a naked fist

To a smiling sky

That showers golden stardust on the sated

And leaves the famished to die?


How hungry must he be, next time walls fall

To leave gold to the rubble

And build something of value

Beneath the smiling sky?


Jason Anderson, 2014

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A Wonderful Bouquet of Awards

Unfortunately, I have not ‘brain enough’ to do what has to be done, but it would not be fair to ignore it.

I’d like to thank seabluedreaming for this. I really appreciate it! Very talented and creative person with a very interesting writing. Below, one of his posts that I like so much.

I Endure

I endure the darkness of winter and the east winds and the snow.
I endure being a prisoner of time.
I endure getting up for work before dawn.
I endure crowded streets and trains.
I endure working in a job that I don’t like.
I endure being tired every day.
I endure processed food.
I endure coming home late – tired.
I endure pain.
I endure time.
I endure and endure for all this means nothing to me.
The past was yesterday. I see the end and know there is no escape. There is nothing in my heart. There is nothing in my head.
I endure.
That’s how I live. That’s how I suffer – patiently.
I endure that happiness will not last.
I endure that there is no escape from suffering.
I endure ignorance and a world that’s stripped of its brilliance – left with little substance.
I endure a world ruled by greed and these words of creed.
I endure the wolf in sheep’s clothing – preaching and stopping souls from searching.
I endure a world of madness that leaves a trail of sadness.
There is a war going on in my head; the world has gone mad.
I endure mass manipulation.
I endure the worship of idols on an endless intrusive filmstrip.
There is nothing in my eyes; for all this means nothing to me.
I endure illusions bringing confusion.
I endure meaningless action for the purpose of distraction.
I endure man’s corruption and freedom’s dysfunction.
I endure aggression and oppression.
I endure equality in uniforms – boxed in.
I endure love that never last and a painful past.
I endure and endure and that’s how they labeled me insane.
How I can love, I do not ask. All dreams I ever had gone burst too fast. I once was blind, but now I see us all dance to the sounds of war like never before. Empty eyes in the mirror tell me that I can’t allow myself to feel happiness. My hands reached out for no good, I am unable to relieve myself from this position.

From: A Wonderful Bouquet of Awards.

The Sailor

The Boy Hero

He is a man of the sea

Whose surface takes

Light cast upon it

Whose tidal mood

Depends on the oft-

Shifting weather

By tides placid,

Suddenly tragic

Unpredictable by

Nature, and whose

Hypnotic stare


A certain brackishness


He is a man of the sea

Who doesn’t choose

Battles, luring men


To death and fortune,

Keeps company with

Pirates, sharks and

The imaginary,

Driving men abyssal

With shore expectations

Quenching thirst by

Mad promises

And fantasies


He is a man of the sea

Who after each tempest

Eases back to his shores

But not me

A veteran sailor

With no love for the sea


By Jason Anderson

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Light in the Water

The Boy Hero

The sky absorbs by morning

The harbor’s bitter taste

The mourning tide

Remembers early lights

A buoy hollowly tolling

Drunken irregularities

Five ghosts on the landing

Two tread past and future

Three to bear the interstice

This mourning will spare three:

Suspended in blue incense

The dock master’s boat returns,

Light in the water,

All the sea returns.


By Jason Anderson

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