Ouvido.

O Inverno rigoroso foi terrível para os soldados portugueses. A única protecção que tinham eram uns casacos de lã dados pelos comandos ingleses. Estes eram recusados pelos soldados devido a serem férteis em pulgas e parasitas...para além de darem um ar lãzudo aos soldados, tornando-os vítimas do gozo dos britânicos. Isto originou várias rixas entre portugueses e ingleses.
O Soldado Português, para além de ser iletrado, era extremamente violento.

Amanhã

Standing firm against all odds
Guarding the most sacred home
We protect the realm of gods
Our destiny is carved in stone

Genial. Belo.

I flew beyond the sun before it was time
Burning all the gold that held me inside my shell
Waiting for you to pull me back in
I almost had the world in my sight

Lost love
Bright eyes fading
Faster than stars falling
How can I tell you that I've failed
Tell you I failed

Falling from grace cause I've been away too long
Leaving you behind with my lonesome song
Now I'm lost in oblivion

I tried to burrow a hole into the ground
Breaking all the fingers and the nails from my hand
The eyes of a child see no wrong
Ignorant bliss impending doom

Lost love
Bright eyes fading
Faster than stars falling
How can I tell you that I've failed
Tell you I failed

Falling from grace cause I've been away too long
Leaving you behind with my lonesome song
Now I'm lost in

Falling from grace cause I've been away too long
Leaving you behind with my lonesome song
Now I'm lost in oblivion

Estava a limpar o pc e encontrei isto. O texto não é meu (obviamente), não me lembro onde o encontrei e é um acréscimo ao post da conversa de amigo. Não sei quem o escreveu mas foi alguém que já tinha desistido...

What happened to all the nice guys?
The answer is simple: you did.
See, if you think back, really hard, you might vaguely remember a Platonic guy pal who always seemed to want to spend time with you. He'd tag along with you when you went shopping, stop by your place for a movie when you were lonely but didn't feel like going out, or even sit there and hold you while you sobbed and told him about how horribly the (other) guy that you were fucking treated you.

At the time, you probably joked with your girlfriends about how he was a little puppy dog, always following you around, trying to do things to get you to pay attention to him. They probably teased you because they thought he had a crush on you. Given that his behavior was, admittedly, a little pathetic, you vehemently denied having any romantic feelings for him, and buttressed your position by claiming that you were "just friends." Besides, he totally wasn't your type. I mean, he was a little too short, or too bald, or too fat, or too poor, or didn't know how to dress himself, or basically be or do any of the things that your tall, good-looking, fit, rich, stylish boyfriend at the time pulled off with such ease.

Eventually, your Platonic buddy drifted away, as your relationship with the boyfriend got more serious and spending time with this other guy was, admittedly, a little weird, if you werent dating him. More time passed, and the boyfriend eventually cheated on you, or became boring, or you realized that the things that attracted you to him weren't the kinds of things that make for a good, long-term relationship.

You ignored the nice guy. You used him for emotional intimacy without reciprocating, in kind, with physical intimacy. You laughed at his consideration and resented his devotion. You valued the aloof boyfriend more than the attentive "just-a-" friend. Eventually, he took the hint and moved on with his life. He probably came to realize, one day, that women aren't really attracted to guys who hold doors open; or make dinners just because; or buy you a Christmas gift that you mentioned, in passing, that you really wanted five months ago; or listen when you're upset; or hold you when you cry. He came to realize that, if he wanted a woman like you, he'd have to act more like the boyfriend that you had. He probably cleaned up his look, started making some money, and generally acted like more of an asshole than he ever wanted to be.

Fact is, now, he's probably getting laid, and in a way, your ultimate rejection of him is to thank for that. And I'm sorry that it took the complete absence of "nice guys" in your life for you to realize that you missed them and wanted them. Most women will only have a handful of nice guys stumble into their lives, if that.

I suppose the other possibility is that you STILL don't really want a nice guy, but you feel the social pressure to at least appear to have matured beyond your infantile taste in men. In which case, you might be in luck, because the nice guy you claim to want has, in reality, shed his nice guy mantle and is out there looking to unleash his cynicism and resentment onto someone just like you.

If you were five years younger.

So, please: either stop misrepresenting what you want, or own up to the fact that you've fucked yourself over. You're getting older, after all. It's time to excise the bullshit and deal with reality. You didn't want a nice guy then, and he certainly doesn't fucking want you, now.

Sincerely,

A Recovering Nice Guy

Yesterday, there was so many things

No sábado acordei com a música Yesterday dos Guns n' roses na cabeça e, apesar de ter sido um grande fã da banda quando era novo, já não a ouvia há algum tempo...

Yesterday, there was so many things
I was never told
Now that I'm startin' to learn
I feel I'm growing old

Acho que só agora começo a perceber o alcance da letra, não estou com os pés para a cova mas acho que já tenho idade suficiente para olhar para trás e ver que houve bastantes coisas às quais não reagiria da mesma maneira, o que provavelmente faria com que não tivesse passado por outras e agora não estaria aqui...

'Cause yesterday's got nothin' for me
Old pictures that I'll always see
Time just fades the pages
In my book of memories
Prayers in my pocket
And no hand in destiny
I'll keep on movin' along
With no time to plant my feet

O tempo tem o condão de dourar a pílula, de dar aquele «silver linning» às nuvens que antes nos cobriram de chuva, tudo parece melhor (caso estejamos mal) ou pior (para o caso de estarmos bem) e é nessa eterna dicotomia que tentamos seguir a nossa vida, com a eterna esperança que as coisas fiquem melhor e que não cometeremos os erros passados.

Terei de viver com o passado e com o que aprendi, a existência resume-se à sobrevivência do ser aos golpes e rasteiras que o destino provoca. Chama-se a isso crescer...mas...não é nada fácil.

Yesterday, there was so many things
I was never shown
Suddenly this time I found
I'm on the streets and I'm all alone

Riders on the storm
Riders on the storm
Into this house were born
Into this world were thrown
Like a dog without a bone
An actor out on loan
Riders on the storm

Theres a killer on the road
His brain is squirmin like a toad
Take a long holiday
Let your children play
If ya give this man a ride
Sweet family will die
Killer on the road, yeah

Girl ya gotta love your man
Girl ya gotta love your man
Take him by the hand
Make him understand
The world on you depends
Our life will never end
Gotta love your man, yeah

A melhor letra de sempre

I bought some carrots at the supermarket
I bought zucchini at the supermarket
I bought some tampons at the supermarket
I develop film at the supermarket

There's lots of pregnant ladies at the supermarket
Paper or plastic: which do you prefer?
My little stymie, he came to me - he said
"I saw James Hetfield at the supermarket"

$1.69 for a spatula
A head of lettuce, broccoli soufflé
Heavy metal fire, my deep desire
To meet James Hetfield at the supermarket

Carrots, zucchini, tampons and film
(At the supermarket)

Coisas que não se devem dizer aos filhos

Ontem à hora de almoço presenciei uma descompostura de uma mãe a uma filha.
Não interessa o porquê, nem o onde, nem se tinha razão ou não...mas terminou com um:
"Tu és uma desilusão como filha"

Quero uma destas para o Natal.

free fire zone with my m-16
vendetta burns inside
wiped out their lives for eyes unseen
mercy chilled to the freezing point

In these days
I'm breathing stone, crying is done
I'll win this race
I'll leave alone, arrive alone

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.

Fernando Pessoa

Don't, don't believe what you
See
Don't, don't believe what you read
No!!!

Live life as a dog would. If you can't eat it or hump it, piss on it and walk away.

Modéstia à parte...

...mas acho que esta música reflecte bem o que sinto/vivo neste momento.

The butcher strikes back
Devastating thrash attack
An invincible force - released from agony
Hail to those who obey
And believe in DESTRUCTION

'cause I'm a war machine

Wanna turn the tides
Set the demons free and watch em fly
[...]

Better watch out
'cause I'm a war machine

Take the reins of power and seize them
Draw the battle lines
Armageddons just a matter of time
Tear down the voice of reason
Let the arrows fly
Your freedoms just a state of mind

Better watch out
cause Im a war machine
Im a war machine
Im a war machine ...

"Sou o Coimbrinha atípico: não gosto assim tanto quanto isso da cidade, muito menos da Queima e ainda menos da cultura de cunha e espírito carapau-de-corrida que grassa nesta lusa-atenas podre até ao âmago..."

Eu, sobre a venda de convites gerais para a Queima.
19/04/2008

UHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!


AHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!


WARRIORS OF THE HEZBOLLAH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Soon to be a classic

There is no mercy in my eyes
I never give in to your cries
To join the mutants is your fate
Disfigured life I must create

I've created life
Psycho surgery
Lack of human empathy
Psycho surgery
Insane is all I'll ever be

Incluídos nesta compilação.

a informação do dia

Um bebé, enquanto não aprende a utilizar a sanita, utiliza 6000 fraldas e produz uma tonelada de resíduos.

Lido por aí...

"O medo da morte não nos deverá deixar, embora não haja nada de que ter medo, pois não saberemos que estamos mortos. Excepto se acreditarmos na propaganda mais escandalosa."
Cristopher Hitchens