8 photographers, 8 cities, 24 hours, 1 phone

http://direct.motorola.com/hellomoto/ZN5/experience/

As originally posted to my Facebook profile, originally doing free marketing for Motorola and another phone that surely takes better pictures than my best friend (my darling 2gb music-playing-phone with a big calendar, also known as “all that I’ll ever need inside my pocket”).

But hey, the idea of the site is awesome. It’s a true pity that someone more popular than myself didn’t post it on Facebook: I’m kinda sure that nobody took a look :( there are also a pair of nice videos…

I’m personally fascinated by each and every city mentioned on the site (ok, not so much about my own): Mexico City, New York, São Paulo, London, Moscow, Mumbai, Beijing and Sydney.

Most interesting is that it’s always possible to guess which city is on each picture; when not, it leads to delightful and unexpected mistakes.

Ah, for all of you that think of São Paulo as huge, with modern bridges and actually modern buildings and more to cars than just old VW Beetles, this is something to… make your point when talking to your friends.

Exploring possibilities

Is it possible to miss someone you don’t know?
Someone who wasn’t even born yet?

To miss in anticipation… or to miss too late?

Yes… yes, yes, it is.

New theme for “the guide”. Yay WordPress. Yay first post with new design. Yay me and my delusional disorder (there’s no such thing as “creativity” for the likes of me). Is philosophy the art of asking questions, or the art of looking for the answer?
Good night…

Snow x rain

I had a very clear dream, last night. I dreamed of my window, and thick snowflakes falling outside. The world was black and white again. Felt so strange, but so real at the same time.

When I woke up, turned out it was only rain. Very thick rain drops.

Right… of course. Snow makes no sound: each flake gently lands on the ground/roof/someone’s hand or face, silently. But, during a heavy fall, I get so excited like it was the biggest event I’ve ever seen: it’s like a music concert.

Snow is a rock concert.

Rain, on the other hand, is a noisy and wet experience: the slightest drops drive everyone away. But I never feel like running. Rain helps to find my own peace: it silences me, something not trivial.

Rain is an orchestra playing a requiem for me. Except that I’m technically not dead yet.

I thought of a picture to publish with this one, but it’s not mine, so, wouldn’t be fair.

I like it. Maybe you’ll like it too.

Hint: download my pic (it’s possible if you click on it and go to flickr), rotate it as you like and voilá, a cool wallpaper for your computer.

How not to compose

Because I can’t write music like the old masters did, I always figure out a way of recording something that might sound interesting.

Unbennant (30)

Unbennant (22)

Unbennant (25)

Unbennant (27)

I’m not sure I’ll be able to reproduce the flute (ok, ok, recorder) thing ever again, but oh well.

Sometimes you’d better be happy having achieved something, even if it lasted just for a short while. And yes, I’m so lazy that apart from not finishing any of the tunes, they don’t even have names. I don’t think they’ll ever have.

(Curiosity corner: in Portuguese, the recorder is called the “sweet flute”. Aaww, how sweet! Bleh :P)

About being like the postman

This is an early release. I don’t have a picture that fits, or a song. Hey this has a good chance of becoming a song.

Eu não sou ninguém.
Sou como o carteiro.
“Quem é?”
“Não é ninguém, é o carteiro!”
O carteiro não é ninguém, mas importante.
Eu não sou ninguém, nem importante.
Pra alguém.

Another refurbished one

How should silence be interpreted?
a pair of shoes in front of the door
a smile is now dessacrated
I’m not running anymore

To look at a window which is long gone
to walk up a hill when I’m done
to look at a window, that leads to a wall
to walk down the hill, the window is too small.

The hall is now empty
the shoes are anymore
now I wonder what happened
if the problem was the shoe store.

The window got small
but for a pair of tiny shoes
not too small after all.

Authory: unknown, unfortunately

One day, the following painting crossed my path:

The picture does not show, put there were around 25 other paintings pretty close to this one, hanging on the very same wall. Still, my eyes found this guy and paralyzed. Then I paralyzed. Must have looked very stupid, so suddenly.

It could and could not be a person. If you want, you can see little happy (and also unhappy) faces all over it.

I particularly liked the following idea: it’s someone plaing the cello. Yes, the cello would be floating. And yes, it would be supported by a tiny, yet smiling head. The three little arcs, upper left, would be hair. Well, and so on.

Another 5 minutes standing there, and here we go: could be also the same guy showering. His right hand is unusually huge, I’ll give you that; the left one is just hanging out up there, so he can wash his armpit with the biggest soap ever made by human race. Forcing even more, the explanation for the black “dots” all over the painting would be… bubbles. Never forget, also, that this guy doesn’t seem to enjoy the shower a lot.

Not too long ago, I would only say “bah” and ignore such a thing. But now, I can really spend a lifetime trying to catch any trace of meaning the painter might have wanted to express. Or maybe, any trace of meaning trapped in my own mind.

Disturbed, or peaceful. Lonely, or cheerful. Music playing, or soccer playing. So many antagonic possibilities. With so few colors and forms. How can something like this amaze me?

What to say about the half-lady on the left? Maybe she’s not there only by mistake of the photographer. Or maybe was the only picture that came out good. But then he would have cropped the image. Right?

Chasing the flame

Schedule is tightening up for important stuff, and I’m getting lazier by the hour, to do them. This makes me feel confused and strange, and sorry for not being in the mood to play any music at all… like I sort of promised.

Well, as time is not an issue, these days I finally paid an outrageous amount of money for a book, after ages waiting for it to come out translated: it just took too long, and I bought it in English.

Chasing the flame: Sergio Vieira de Mello and the fight to save the world is a biography written by the awarded journalist Samantha Power. She had the opportunity to meet the man who would very, very probably be Kofi Annan’s substitute.

I haven’t read much yet (go back to the first paragraph to know why), but this is a book I’ll surely read to the end. Soon.

For some time already, this inexplicable curiosity and admiration and delight about diplomacy has awaken inside of me. I can’t tell what the hell does this mean, as I can’t really explain what on Earth is going on: I’m terrible with words.

But I really want to learn more about the life of someone who’s been said to be one of the most charismatic, pragmatic and passionate diplomats of all time. Someone who’s seen the worst and the best of the world, and never felt satisfied with hipocrisy, lies or, unfortunately, just vicious will.

Sometimes one person can change something. Sometimes, millions of others… can’t.

… blablabla… yeah, anyways… point is… I, as a super-duper intelectual mind, recommend this book.

Persistence

Or stubborness?

Or persistence?