The Nightmare Before Christmas - O poema original

Tim Burton

It was late one fall in Halloweenland,

and the air had quite a chill.

Against the moon a skeleton sat,

alone upon a hill.

He was tall and thin with a bat bow tie;

Jack Skellington was his name.

He was tired and bored in Halloweenland

"I'm sick of the scaring, the terror, the fright.

I'm tired of being something that goes bump in the night.

I'm bored with leering my horrible glances,

And my feet hurt from dancing those skeleton dances.

I don't like graveyards, and I need something new.

There must be more to life than just yelling,

'Boo!'"

Then out from a grave, with a curl and a twist,

Came a whimpering, whining, spectral mist.

It was a little ghost dog, with a faint little bark,

And a jack-o'-lantern nose that glowed in the dark.

It was Jack's dog, Zero, the best friend he had,

But Jack hardly noticed, which made Zero sad.

All that night and through the next day,

Jack wandered and walked.

He was filled with dismay.

Then deep in the forest, just before night,

Jack came upon an amazing sight.

Not twenty feet from the spot where he stood

Were three massive doorways carved in wood.

He stood before them, completely in awe,

His gaze transfixed by one special door.

Entranced and excited, with a slight sense of worry,

Jack opened the door to a white, windy flurry.

Jack didn't know it, but he'd fallen down

In the middle of a place called Christmas Town!

Immersed in the light, Jack was no longer haunted.

He had finally found the feeling he wanted.

And so that his friends wouldn't think him a liar,

He took the present filled stockings that hung by the fire.

He took candy and toys that were stacked on the shelves

And a picture of Santa with all of his elves.

He took lights and ornaments and the star from the tree,

And from the Christmas Town sign, he took the big letter C.

He picked up everything that sparkled or glowed.

He even picked up a handful of snow.

He grabbed it all, and without being seen,

He took it all back to Halloween.

Back in Halloween a group of Jack's peers

Stared in amazement at his Christmas souvenires.

For this wondrous vision none were prepared.

Most were excited, though a few were quite scared!

For the next few days, while it lightninged and thundered,

Jack sat alone and obsessively wondered.

"Why is it they get to spread laughter and cheer

While we stalk the graveyards, spreading panic and fear?

Well, I could be Santa, and I could spread cheer!

Why does he get to do it year after year?"

Outraged by injustice, Jack thought and he thought.

Then he got an idea. "Yes. . .yes. . .why not!"

In Christmas Town, Santa was making some toys

When through the din he heard a soft noise.

He answered the door, and to his surprise,

He saw weird little creatures in strange disguise.

They were altogether ugly and rather petite.

As they opened their sacks, they yelled, "Trick or treat!"

Then a confused Santa was shoved into a sack

And taken to Halloween to see mastermind Jack.

In Halloween everyone gathered once more,

For they'd never seen a Santa before

And as they cautiously gazed at this strange old man,

Jack related to Santa his masterful plan:

"My dear Mr. Claus, I think it's a crime

That you've got to be Santa all of the time!

But now I will give presents, and I will spread cheer.

We're changing places I'm Santa this year.

It is I who will say Merry Christmas to you!

So you may lie in my coffin, creak doors, and yell, 'Boo!'

And please, Mr. Claus, don't think ill of my plan.

For I'll do the best Santa job that I can."

And though Jack and his friends thought they'd do a good job,

Their idea of Christmas was still quite macabre.

They were packed up and ready on Christmas Eve day

When Jack hitched his reindeer to his sleek coffin sleigh,

But on Christmas Eve as they were about to begin,

A Halloween fog slowly rolled in.

Jack said, "We can't leave; this fog's just too thick.

There will be no Christmas, and I can't be St. Nick."

Then a small glowing light pierced through the fog.

What could it be?. . .It was Zero, Jack's dog!

Jack said, "Zero, with your nose so bright,

Won't you guide my sleigh tonight?"

And to be so needed was Zero's great dream,

So he joyously flew to the head of the team.

And as the skeletal sleigh started its ghostly flight,

Jack cackled, "Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night!"

'Twas the nightmare before Christmas, and all though the house,

Not a creature was peaceful, not even a mouse.

The stockings all hung by the chimney with care,

When opened that morning would cause quite a scare!

The children, all nestled so snug in their beds,

Would have nightmares of monsters and skeleton heads.

The moon that hung over the new-fallen snow

Cast an eerie pall over the city below,

And Santa Claus's laughter now sounded like groans,

And the jingling bells like chattering bones.

And what to their wondering eyes should appear,

But a coffin sleigh with skeleton deer.

And a skeletal driver so ugly and sick

They knew in a moment, this can't be St. Nick!

From house to house, with a true sense of joy,

Jack happily issued each present and toy.

From rooftop to rooftop he jumped and he skipped,

Leaving presents that seemed to be straight from a crypt!

Unaware that the world was in panic and fear,

Jack merrily spread his own brand of cheer.

He visited the house of Susie and Dave;

They got a Gumby and Pokey from the grave.

Then on to the home of little Jane Neeman;

She got a baby doll possessed by a demon.

A monstrous train with tentacle tracks,

A ghoulish puppet wielding an ax,

A man eating plant disguised as a wreath,

And a vampire teddy bear with very sharp teeth.

There were screams of terror, but Jack didn't hear it,

He was much too involved with his own Christmas spirit!

Jack finally looked down from his dark, starry frights

And saw the commotion, the noise, and the light.

"Why, they're celebrating, it looks like such fun!

They're thanking me for the good job that I've done."

But what he thought were fireworks meant as goodwill

Were bullets and missiles intended to kill.

Then amidst the barrage of artillery fire,

Jack urged Zero to go higher and higher.

And away they all flew like the storm of a thistle,

Until they were hit by a well guided missile.

And as they fell on the cemetery, way out of sight,

Was heard, "Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good

night."

Jack pulled himself up on a large stone cross,

And from there he reviewed his incredible loss.

"I thought I could be Santa, I had such belief"

Jack was confused and filled with great grief.

Not knowing where to turn, he looked toward the sky,

Then he slumped on the grave and he started to cry.

And as Zero and Jack lay crumpled on the ground,

They suddenly heard a familiar sound.

"My dear Jack," said Santa, "I applaud your intent.

I know wreaking such havoc was not what you meant.

And so you are sad and feeling quite blue,

But taking over Christmas was the wrong thing to do.

I hope you realize Halloween's the right place for you.

There's a lot more, Jack, that I'd like to say,

But now I must hurry, for it's almost Christmas day."

Then he jumped in his sleigh, and with a wink of an eye,

He said, "Merry Christmas," and he bid them good bye.

Back home, Jack was sad, but then, like a dream,

Santa brought Christmas to the land of Halloween.

the end

O poema interpretado pelo ator Patrick Stewart

Nude

Radiohead



Don't get any big ideas
They're not gonna happen
You paint yourself white
And feel up with noise
But there'll be something missing

Now that you've found it, it's gone
Now that you feel it, you don't
You've gone off the rails

So don't get any big ideas
They're not going to happen
You'll go to hell for what your dirty mind is thinking

O momento da criação poética

Bob Dylan em trecho do filme "No direction home", Martin Scorsese.

I'm looking for a place that will "collect, clip, bath," and return my dog, KN1-7727, cigarettes and tobacco. Animals and birds bought or sold on commission.

I want a dog that's gonna collect and clean my bath, return my cigarette and give tobacco to my animals and then give my birds a commission.

I'm looking for somebody to sell my dog, collect my clip, buy my animal, and straighten out my bird.

I'm looking for a place to bathe my bird, buy my dog, collect my clip, sell me cigarettes and commission my bath.

I'm looking for a place that's going to collect my commission, sell my dog, burn my bird, and sell me to the cigarette.

Going to bird my buy, collect my will, and bathe my commission.

I'm looking for a place that's going to animal my soul, knit my return, bathe my foot, and collect my dog. Commission me to sell my animals, to the bird to clip and buy my bath and return me back to the cigarettes.

Procuro um lugar que "arrume, corte o pêlo, dê banho" e devolva meu cachorro, KN1-7727. Cigarros e tabaco. "Vendemos e compramos pássaros em comissão."

Eu quero um cachorro que arrume e limpe meu banheiro e devolva meu cigarro dê tabaco aos meus animais e aí dê uma comissão aos meus pássaros.

Procuro alguém que venda meu cachorro corte meu cabelo, compre meu animal e enderece ao meu pássaro.

Procuro um lugar que dê banho no meu pássaro compre meu cachorro, corte meu cabelo me venda cigarros e dê comissão ao meu banho.

Procuro um lugar que recolha minha comissão, venda meu cachorro, queime meu pássaro e me venda ao cigarro.

Vou passarear minha compra, pegar meu desejo, e dar banho na minha comissão.

Procuro um lugar que animalize minha alma, enlace meu retorno, lave meu pé e arrume meu cachorro. Me dê uma comissão por vender meus animais, ao pássaro por cortar e comprar meu banho e me devolver aos cigarros.

Noam Chomsky vs Michel Foucault

Justiça vs Poder



Chomsky

"Toda forma de coerção ou repressão, toda forma de controle autocrático de alguns domínios da existência, digamos, a propriedade privada de capital de alguns aspectos da vida humana como, por exemplo, restrições autocráticas sobre algumas áreas de atividade humana, podem ser justificadas, de modo algum, apenas em termos da necessidade de subsistência, ou da necessidade de sobrevivência, ou da necessidade de defesa contra algum destino terrível ou algo do tipo. Isso não pode ser justificado intrinsecamente. Pelo contrário deve ser superado e eliminado”.


Foucault

"Sabe-se que a universidade e, de modo geral, todos os sistemas educacionais, que aparentam simplesmente disseminar o conhecimento, são feitos para manter uma certa classe social no poder; e para excluir os instrumentos de poder de outras classes sociais".

Ruby tuesday

Rolling Stones



She would never say where she came from
Yesterday don't matter if it's gone
While the sun is bright
Or in the darkest night
No one knows
She comes and goes

Goodbye, Ruby Tuesday
Who could hang a name on you?
When you change with every new day
Still I'm gonna miss you...

Don't question why she needs to be so free
She'll tell you it's the only way to be
She just can't be chained
To a life where nothing's gained
And nothing's lost
At such a cost

There's no time to lose, I heard her say
Catch your dreams before they slip away
Dying all the time
Lose your dreams
And you will lose your mind.
Ain't life unkind?

Goodbye, Ruby Tuesday
Who could hang a name on you?
When you change with every new day
Still I'm gonna miss you...

Falena (Mariposa)

Iago



Semplice, inspiegabile, inscindibile.
Tra alba e tramonto, tra inizio e fine.

L'amore è un bruco che ritmicamente
si fa largo fra le consuetudini
e le rende istinti.

La metamorfosi è la via per
ingannare le divinità.

Trasformazione di una volontà ad esistere.
E come l'acqua, diventa molte cose.

Ma la sua essenza più intima è l'empatia.
La crisalide è vuota, la notte sostiene
il suo volo. Sulle sue ali è scritta
la storia di un'emozione destinata a perire.

La fine ed il tempo cercano un punto
d'incontro per obbedire al destino.

Eppure lei sa come volare lontano dal
comprensibile. Battiti frenetici, percezioni.
E' per questo che lei è...Falena.


Mariposa

Simples, inexplicável, Inseparável,
Entre o amanhecer e o alvorecer,
Começo e fim.

O amor é uma lagarta que ritmicamente
se faz ao largo dos costumes
e rende instintos.

A metamorfose é o caminho
para ganhar a divindade.

Transformação de uma vontade de existir.
E como a água, tornar-se muitas coisas.

Mas a sua essência ultima é a empatia.
A crisálida está vazia, a noite sustenta
seu vôo. Sobre suas asas é escrita
a história de uma emoção destinada a perecer.

O fim e o tempo procuram um ponto
de encontro para obedecer o destino.

Apesar disso, ela sabe como voar
para longe do compreensível.
Batidos frenéticos, percepção.
E é por isso que ela é uma mariposa.

Futebol filosófico

The crow

I'm your dentist

Steve Martin, no filme "A pequena loja dos horrores" (1986)

Dor suburbana

I'm in Love

Wilson Pickett & the Midnight Movers

That's how strong my love is

The Rolling Stones (RSG 1965)

Audioslave - Doesn't Remind Me

The White Stripes - Seven Nation Army

Joseph Climber, um exemplo de perseverança

Travelling riverside blues

Led Zeppelin

Em homenagem ao Dia do rock, um clipe da maior banda de rock de todos os tempos.
Saudações aos deuses do metal!

Roadhouse blues

The Doors


Há 41 anos, formava-se, em Los Angeles, Estados Unidos, uma das mais polêmicas e talentosas bandas de rock'n'roll da história, o The Doors. E, há exatos 35 anos, faleceu seu vocalista e líder Jim Morrison.

A morte, ocorrida em um hotel parisiense, sempre foi cercada de suspense. Alguns fãs mais exaltados acham que Morrison, como Elvis Presley, não morreu, que é tudo boato. Os companheiros de banda não acreditam, em declarações dadas na mídia, que o corpo do músico esteja em Paris. Enfim, tudo muito nebuloso.

Mas o que impressiona de fato, é a magia, o encanto que a imagem do rebelde Morrison (morto aos 27 anos) ainda causa em milhares de pessoas. O mito permanece vivo.

Récem formados em cinema, Ray Manzarek (tecladista) e Morrison se conheceram e resolveram formar uma banda. Adotam o nome de The Doors através de uma obra do poeta William Blake. Em pouco tempo John Densmore (baterista) e Robby Krieger (guitarrista) se juntam ao Doors.

Em 1967, sai a primeira e talvez a melhor obra da banda, o álbum homônimo, que contém as épicas canções 'Break on Through' e 'Light My Fire'.

A partir daí, o sucesso do grupo foi aumentando abruptamente e com ele a loucura da banda. Morrison, irritado com o assédio ou sem encontrar um meio mais confortável para lidar com o sucesso, começa a se apresentar de modo enérgico, estranho, no palco. Considerado símbolo sexual na época, o vocalista adotou performances sensuais, obcenas muitas vezes, criando um figura pública controversa.

Drogas e álcool, que juntamente com o sexo compõem a famosa tríade com o rock, estavam presentes no dia a dia do Doors. Morrison, já um tanto transtornado com sua nova vida, começou (ou ao menos tentou) se afastar um pouco dos holofotes da mídia e do resto da banda, com quem vivia em conflitos constantes. Até que no dia 3 de julho de 1971, Jim foi encontrado morto, devido a um ataque cardíaco, na banheira do hotel em que se hospedava em Paris, tendo sua morte anunciada dias depois em meia a muita confusão e especulações.

Permanece até hoje a imagem do vocalista rebelde, que ignorou as proibições do programa The Ed Sullivan Show, do bêbado que exibiu o pênis em um show nos Estados Unidos e que protagonizou tantas outras insanidades.

Seu túmulo, em Paris, é um dos locais mais visitados da Europa. Diariamente passam cerca de 300 pessoas pelo local. Fotos, velas, cartas e os mais diversos objetos são deixados juntos a lápide do músico. Algumas pessoas fazem pequenos ritos as escondidas no cemitério e até mantém relações sexuais perto do túmulo.

Se vivo, Jim Morrison completaria em dezembro 68 anos. Não se pode afirmar o que aconteceria com o Doors se o seu vocalista não tivesse morrido em 1971. A única certeza é que sua morte foi criado um mito que perdurará por muito tempo.

Weapon of Choice

Fatboy Slim


O vídeoclip "Weapon of choice", baseado na música de mesmo nome do Fatboy Slim, foi dirigido por Spike Jonze, o mesmo diretor dos filmes "Quero ser John Malkovich" e "Adaptação". A música faz parte do disco "Halfway between the gutter and the stars" ("Metade do caminho entre a sarjeta e as estrelas"), de 2000. No vídeo, o ator Christoper Walken interpreta um homem que aproveita a ausência de pessoas no local para dançar pelos salões de um luxuoso hotel. Walken também ajudou a coreografar a dança, que inclui uma cena em que ele mergulha do alto de uma sacada para voar ao redor do salão.

Dancem macacos, dancem

Macacos que se acham mais espertos que os macacos, fazem vídeos criticando outros macacos, esquecendo-se que, na verdade, não passam de "macacos".

O que é uma grande ofensa aos símios...