Numa final antecipada, Che derrubou Mao! Como se previa, Trotsky, Engels, Gramsci e Lenine qualificaram-se para os quartos de final e Angela Davis, Rosa Luxemburgo e Lukacs (que eliminou Debord) também. O torneio está ao rubro!
"The Church even dictated how you were supposed to have sex. Anything other than the common 'missionary position', for example, was considered unnatural and therefore a sin, according to the Church. The woman on top position, or entering her from the rear (sex a tergo) were not favored because they interfered with the natural order of male-female roles. Anal and oral sex were sins because they could only be practiced for pleasure, not procreation, which for the purists was the only purpose of sex.
Punishments for those using 'deviant' sexual positions could be very harsh: three years' penance for the woman on top and the same for both oral intercourse and sex a tergo, which was generally seen as the most sinful position ... with the possible exception of anal intercourse"
Depois de passar os olhos por aqui (naquelas áreas que me são próximas ou não demasiado estranhas), quer parecer-me que a bondade genérica da "modestaproposta" sai trágica e severamente prejudicada pelo contacto com a indigente realidade. Se calhar, o melhor é... não fazer nada.
"Whoever fornicates with an effeminate male or with another man or with an animal must fast for 10 years. Elsewhere it says that whoever fornicates with an animal must fast 15 years and sodomites must fast for 7 years….
If he defiles himself (masturbates), he is to abstain from meat for four days. He who desires to fornicate (with) himself (i.e., to masturbate) and is not able to do so, he must fast for 40 days or 20 days. If he is a boy and does it often, either he is to fast 20 days or one is to whip him….
Whoever ejaculates seed into the mouth, that is the worst evil. From someone it was judged that they repent this up to the end of their lives"
Não foi, de todo, imerecidamente que a má reputação dos "singer-songwriters" da década de 70 – em particular, os que tinham selo de origem em Laurel Canyon – se lhes colou à pele: o estereótipo era o da lamúria confessional a propósito das inúmeras desventuras e catástrofes sentimentais, acerca das quais era fácil imaginar os lacrimejantes autores hesitando entre aplicar a lâmina da barba à artéria radial ou tomar notas, pegar na guitarra e encarar o infortúnio como belíssima matéria-prima para o próximo álbum. Esmagadoramente, a segunda hipótese prevalecia e não será por se tratar de um estereótipo que anda demasiado longe da verdade. Nos últimos 40 anos, a epidemia foi controlada mas não definitivamente debelada; tanto assim que continua a fazer vítimas junto de quem se suporia mais inexpugnavelmente imune. Tomemos, então, conhecimento de que o matrimónio de mais de uma década de Björk Guðmundsdóttir com o artista e cineasta Matthew Barney chegou ao fim e que ela fez questão de registar exaustivamente todo o processo em Vulnicura – sobreposição do latim, vulnus (ferida), e cura –, anunciando logo na primeira faixa, com determinação de arquivista, “I’d better document this”.
O método é cronologicamente obsessivo (as canções são datadas pelo número de meses antes da separação) mas, acima de tudo, obriga-nos a uma atitude absurdamente contra-natura: se desejamos, verdadeiramente, desfrutar da óptima música que o disco oferece, há que ser obstinadamente surdo aos textos. Sim, os riquissimamente texturados tapetes sonoros do U Strings Ensemble, dinamizados ou dilacerados pela sobrenatural máquina de "beats" de Arca/Alejandro Ghersi e adensados pela patine de The Haxan Cloak/Bobby Krlic (Michael Pärt, filho de Arvo, enquanto "recording supervisor", terá tido também alguma palavra a dizer), convivem mal, muito mal, com o que se assemelha demasiado a embaraçosos extractos de ficha clínica de gabinete de psicologia ou de diário de adolescente problemático (“Every single fuck we had together is in a wondrous time lapse, with us here at this moment”, “I have emotional needs, I wish to synchronize our feelings”, “Family was always our sacred mutual mission which you abandoned, you have nothing to give, your heart is hollow”...). Ignoremo-los. Nunca existiram.
"Hysterical Literature was conceived as an online project in which each session’s featured female participant chooses a resonant text, then reads it aloud until a Hitachi Magic Wand puts an end to her ability to form coherent sentences"
"There’s a million ways to laugh. Sometimes absurdism can be subversive. Sometimes it’s necessary to look further, beyond the Pot-Head Pixies and Flying Teapots and see what’s on the other side. In a sense Daevid Allen is no longer with us, in another he’ll always be here so long as we play the records, he’s just evolved to another form, transmuted into the music. This sounds frivolous. It’s not. It’s part of the magic he deals with, part illusory, part dexterity. Jazzer Sun Ra claimed to be from Saturn. His cosmic philosophy was ludicrous, his avant-garde improvisations could be breathtaking. When Christopher David Allen (as he was then) fetched up in Dover, from his native Australia, via a stint at 9 Rue Git-le-Coeur, the Paris ‘Beat Hotel’, he was listening to the endless pulse of Sun Ra. This was around 1961, and jazz was the cool underground. The drummer in Daevid’s first free-Bop trio was a young Robert Wyatt, with Hugh Hopper on bass. When the group eventually evolved into Soft Machine it took its name from the ‘Beat’ junk-mythologies of William S Burroughs too. Daevid had discovered the Beats back home in Melbourne while working a scuffed bookshop. Poetry can be spontaneous Bop jazzetry. It takes your head into places straight ‘serious’ art cannot. It can be the jolt that tips you over into altered states. All this was alchemy for the soul. From Charlie Mingus to Robert Graves. Accident, chance and serendipity were part of its strategy. So when, after playing Côte d’Azur dates with the Softs, Daevid was refused re-entry to the UK due to visa problems, he gravitates to Paris in time for ‘les évènements’, which was the place to be. ‘Egalité! Liberté! Sexualité!’ is another mythic-layer occupying the zone between prankster insurgency and subtle brain-games. He recites Beatnik poetry in fractured Franglaise which is also an assault on the senses (...)" (daqui; + aqui)
Destaque na 3ª jornada para os trepidantes embates Mao/Che e Debord/Lukacs! (se não acontecerem surpresas nem surgirem tomba-gigantes, Trotsky, Lenine e Engels deverão apurar-se para a ronda seguinte; tudo permaneceem aberto nos encontros Benjamin/Luxembourg, Davis/Harvey, e Althusser/Gramsci).
"I wish either my father or my mother, or indeed both of them, as they were in duty both equally bound to it, had duly considered how much depended upon what they were then doing;—that not only the production of a rational Being was concerned in it, but that possibly the happy formation and temperature of his body, perhaps his genius and the very cast of his mind; — and, for aught they knew to the contrary, even the fortunes of his whole house might take their turn from the humours and dispositions that were then uppermost; — Had they duly weighed and considered all this, and proceeded accordingly,— I am verily persuaded that I should have made a quite different figure in the world, from that in which the reader is likely to see me"