Balada do Rei das Sereias

It's the name of a poem by Manuel Bandeira.



O rei atirou
Seu anel ao mar
E disse às sereias:
– Ide-o lá buscar,
Que se o não trouxerdes,
Virareis espuma
Das ondas do mar!

Foram as sereias,
Não tardou, voltaram
Com o perdido anel.
Maldito o capricho
De rei tão cruel!

O rei atirou
Grãos de arroz ao mar
E disse às sereias:
– Ide-os lá buscar,
Que se os não trouxerdes,
Virareis espuma
Das ondas do mar!

Foram as sereias
Não tardou, voltaram,
Não faltava um grão.
Maldito o capricho
Do mau coração!

O rei atirou
Sua filha ao mar
E disse às sereias:
– Ide-a lá buscar,
Que se a não trouxerdes,
Virareis espuma
Das ondas do mar!

Foram as sereias...
Quem as viu voltar?...
Não voltaram nunca!
Viraram espuma
Das ondas do mar.

I wish I could find an English translation of it.


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Ten of Swords

In its upright position, the ten of swords represents absolute destruction, being
pinned down by a multitude of things or situations.

The Ten of Swords is the most grim card in the deck, more destructive and reminiscent of death than the Death card itself. Again, the dark clouds depicted above the person signify despair and a terribly bleak situation. However, upon closer examination of the images in the card, any real death or destruction, like all things, may not be permanent. There is hope regardless of the situation: the golden sky in the distance suggests that this is the worst the querant's situation could possibly be, and that things will only improve.

In the card's reversed state, it symbolizes a troubling situation that will continue for a significant amount of time.

More here and here.
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Comme un boomerang

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Happy who as Ulysses

Ulysse - Ridan - Uploaded by Fullsrad

Happy he who like Ulysses has returned successful from his travels,
Or like he who sought the Golden Fleece,
Then returned, wise to the world,
Live amongst his family to the end of his age!
---Joachim du Bellay
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Days of open hand

The gentleman knows I cannot possibly answer THAT -- even if I knew the answer, sir.

Why, no, I suppose not... No harm in asking Madame Rosinka, sir...

Or failing that, and closer to home, there is always the strange little fellow by the fireside.

Actually...I did take it upon myself to submit the gentleman's question to his attention.

He seemed quite amused by it. And quite pleased -- a little bit too eager, if you ask me, sir.

No, he didn't say anything. He just pulled out some cards and laid out three of them for me on the counter, sir.

The cards are till right there.

His kind is fond of bothersome practical joke, so I wouldn't read too much into it.

The first card is The Changeling, sir. And, ah, it is reversed.

The first card in a layout such as this one traditionally stands for the past. It indicates what has happened to affect the gentleman's question.

The card in the middle typically stands for the present and is supposed to represent what is affecting the gentleman's question.

Why, yes, it is a Fire Drake, sir.

No, I am not familiar with that particular deck.

The gentleman is right, the last card is about the future. A Selkie, sir.

I don't know.

The gentleman does realize that I have no idea what any of those cards mean, doesn't he?

Maybe the gentleman can ask around. Or try his luck online.


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Ahmadine...chads

-

Golly, it's true! History does repeat itself...


I wonder how it shall all end this time around.

Chief Justice William Rehnquist (2000)----------Grand Ayatollah Ali Khamenei (2009)

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An eerie tale to go with your Ale

Oh Bartender! Trade me a pint for a true story? Fabulous! I thought you might. ;-)

One of my very first customer duos was a middle aged man who would bring his elderly mother to my shoppe once per month. She seemed to be on the verge of the end but sure did love selecting a variety of pastries jinterspersed with a bit of convo. They both seemed very kind, very... errr... shall we say "normal" (a category I personally try to stay far far away from). The type of folk that would chuckle at the mundane, converse stoically about weather & go on about how the good 'ole days are never to be duplicated again (especially after seeing my prices). I would chuckle along with them & spew forth some nonsensical drivel, even though I generally despise that type of thing, because they were good customers after all.

Years passed & their visits became ritual. I never did secure any hard facts about either of them- but hey, I'm great at supposition, so what did it matter?! All I needed to know was this: if a mid-forties, soft-spoken gentleman who dresses like a priest, was living with his Mother in this day & age... why... it's quite obvious he was channeling Norman Bates.

Yes I am serious! Oh you're laughing at me are you?! You won't think it's funny when I tell you that one fateful day, he arrived at my shoppe ALONE. I knew darn well he had murdered his mother, taxidermified her himself, propped her body up in his basement & proceeded to stop by for pastry. I assume he figured my Angelfood Cake was exculpatory.

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That story is generally considered to be apocryphal

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A little child was leading them...

They all sat at my table.


And the man said...

Et la petite fille chantait
Un truc qui me colle encore au coeur et au corps:

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True Lies

As a reservoir of the collective unconscious, as a spontaneous or calculated expression inspired by the universal community, as prophetic language, art reveals man to himself.

If politics often lie, art cannot lie. The artist cannot lie because his creations are imaginary and imagination unmasks human significance. Standing at the frontier between reality and unreality, art connects our world to the world beyond.

Art takes us to the edge of mystery. If it does not give us the key―since no human effort can obtain it for us―it at least leaves the door open to life beyond life, beyond nothingness. Better than philosophy lost in erudition, art confronts us with our own inquiry into our ultimate fate. And this inquiry is already the beginning of an answer.

Politics separate men by bringing them together only superficially. Art and culture unite us in a common anguish that is our only possible fraternity, that of our existential and metaphysical community.

Art is everything. Art is nothing if one does not commit oneself to it completely. If a masterpiece has failed to move you, it is because you did not look, you did not understand it, you did not let it speak. Every apprehension of a piece of art is a struggle and a suffering. Art requires that one place everything in doubt all over again.

Ionesco on Politics: How Strange, How Bizarre and What a Coincidence!
(Translated from the French by Sylvie Drake of The Times.) Playwright Eugene Ionesco is the author of numerous plays, including "The Bold Soprano," "The Lesson," "Rhinoceros" and "Journey Among the Dead."

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True Stories

Did I mention that I was born with a tail? My mother keeps it in a jar in the medicine cabinet, next to the monkey blood.

—> <—
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