e-ttenuation of life

«Teenagers communicating by mobile phones and texts and chat rooms and webcams still seem more like teenagers than nodes in an electronic network. I have to admit a little concern at what we might call the e-ttenuation of life, whereby people find it increasingly difficulty to be here now rather than dissipating themselves into an endless electronic elsewhere», leio, escrito por Ray Tallis, no Philosophy Now, aqui e lembro-me do meu velho Apple, o écran monocromático, as suas disquetes enormes e moles, a alegria infinita de esperar por aquele MS-DOS. Mordido o fruto proibido, digitalizei-me irreversivel e binariamente, a minha cabeça como a álgebra booleana.


O Oriente Fatal

Mao Zedong, Livro Vermelho, 1964.

«Devemos apoiar tudo que o inimigo combate, e combater tudo o que o inimigo apoia»

«O sistema socialista acabará por substituir o sistema capitalista; essa é uma lei objetiva, independente da vontade do homem. Por muito que os reacionários tendem impedir o avanço da roda da história, tarde ou cedo a revolução se fará e conquistará inevitavelmente a vitória».
«Para fazermos a revolução necessitamos de um partido revolucionário. Sem um partido revolucionário, sem um partido fundado na teoria revolucionária marxista-leninista, é impossível dirigir a classe operária e as grandes massas do povo à vitória sobre o imperialismo e os seus lacaios».

«Um partido político que dirige um grande movimento revolucionário não pode conquistar a vitória sem dominar a teoria revolucionária, sem possuir um conhecimento da História e sem compreender profundamente o movimento prático».
«A revolução não é o convite para um jantar, a composição de uma obra literária, a pintura de um quadro ou a confecção de um bordado, ela não pode ser assim tão refinada, calma e delicada, tão branda, tão afável e cortês, comedida e generosa. A revolução é um insurreição, é um ato de violência pelo qual uma classe derruba a outra».

O génio aprisionado

Ezra Pound, Cantos, I:
«And then went down to the ship,
Set keel to breakers, forth on the godly sea, and
We set up mast and sail on tha swart ship,
Bore sheep aboard her, and our bodies also
Heavy with weeping, so winds from sternward
Bore us out onward with bellying canvas,
Circe's this craft, the trim-coifed goddess.
Then sat we amidships, wind jamming the tiller,
Thus with stretched sail, we went over sea till day's end.
Sun to his slumber, shadows o'er all the ocean,
Came we then to the bounds of deepest water,
To the Kimmerian lands, and peopled cities
Covered with close-webbed mist, unpierced ever
With glitter of sun-rays
Nor with stars stretched, nor looking back from heaven
Swartest night stretched over wretched men there.
The ocean flowing backward, came we then to the place
Aforesaid by Circe.
Here did they rites, Perimedes and Eurylochus,
And drawing sword from my hip
I dug the ell-square pitkin;
Poured we libations unto each the dead,
First mead and then sweet wine, water mixed with white flour.
Then prayed I many a prayer to the sickly death's-head;
As set in Ithaca, sterile bulls of the best
For sacrifice, heaping the pyre with goods,
A sheep to Tiresias only, black and a bell-sheep.
Dark blood flowed in the fosse,
Souls out of Erebus, cadaverous dead, of brides
Of youths and at the old who had borne much;
Souls stained with recent tears, girls tender,
Men many, mauled with bronze lance heads,
Battle spoil, bearing yet dreory arms,
These many crowded about me; with shouting,
Pallor upon me, cried to my men for more beasts;
Slaughtered the heards, sheep slain of bronze;
Poured ointment, cried to the gods,
To Pluto the strong, and praised Proserpine;
Unsheathed the narrow sword,
I sat to keep off the impetuous impotent dead,
Till I should hear Tiresias.
But first Elpenor came, our friend Elpenor,
Unburied, cast on the wide earth,
Limbs that we left in the house of Circe,
Unwept, unwrapped in sepulchre, since toils urged other.
Pitiful spirit. And I cried in hurried speech:
"Elpenor, how art thou come to this dark coast?
Cam'st thou afoot, outstripping seamen?"
And he in heavy speech:
"Ill fate and abundant wine. I slept in Circe's ingle.
Going down the long ladder unguarded,
I fell against the buttress,
Shattered the nape-nerve, the soul sought Avernus.
But thou, O King, I bid remember me, unwept, unburied,
Heap up mine arms, be tomb by sea-bord, and inscribed:
A man of no fortune, and with a name to come.
And set my oar up, that I swung mid fellows."
And Anticlea came, whom I beat off, and then Tiresias Theban,
Holding his golden wand, knew me, and spoke first:
"A second time? why? man of ill star,
Facing the sunless dead and this joyless region?
Stand from the fosse, leave me my bloody bever
For soothsay."
And I stepped back,
And he stong with the blood, said then: "Odysseus
Shalt return through spiteful Neptune, over dark seas,
Lose all companions." And then Anticlea came.
Lie quiet Divus. I mean, that is Andreas Divus,
In officina Wecheli, 1538, out of Homer.
And he sailed, by Sirens and thence outward and away
And unto Circe.
In the Creatan's phrase, with the golden crown, Aphrodite,
Cypri munimenta sortita est, mirthful, orichalchi, with golden
Girdles and breast bands, thou with dark eyelids
Bearing the golden bough of Argicida. So that:»

Adeus para sempre

«I didn't mean to treat you so bad
You shouldn't take it so personal
I didn't mean to make you so sad
You just happened to be there, that's all
When I saw you say "goodbye" to your friends and smile
I thought that it was well understood
That you'd be comin' back in a little while
I didn't know that you were sayin' "goodbye" for good»

Bob Dylan, One of Us Must Know (Sooner or Later), Álbum Blonde On Blonde, 1966