The Rain Dance

We're coming to the end of term again at PUC. I've just done four subjects this semester: Educational Psychology, Semiotics, American Literature and Religious Culture. All very interesting in that there was a lot to learn and discuss. I've been reading David Peat's "Blackfoot Physics" and trying to grasp the concepts of the "coming to knowing" of the indigenous cultures. How can we compare this with our concepts of constructivism?

Latest developments on the home front, the drug barons' minions are on the streets again judging from the occasional pistol shot in the night. We're not up to full gun battles again yet, just a random shot in the dark. Protecting one's turf.

The pouring rain and heat have awakened in me some primitive desire to tear of all my clothes, (okay I can settle with taking them off slowly and neatly folding) and running naked out to my terrace to perform a dance of joy with nature. I haven't quite the audacity to do this yet, I'm not sure if I'd be evicted or just accepted as "that daft Gringo" again, not forgetting that it's "that daft Gringo" that plays bagpipe music at a few thousand decibels at weekends and dances jigs (or what pass for jigs after a few Fine Brazilian Ales) under the midday sun on the terrace.

I now have an additional feature to the terrace which may allow dancing "au natural" : a beach tent. While shading me from the furnace blast of the sun however, it wouldn't allow one to feel the cleansing and refreshing benefits of a summer rain storm on one's naked skin.

Today being Friday, later I shall be partaking in a few Fine Brazilian Ales and with the good lady over for the weekend, I shall also be partaking in hot sex. In combining the both, one has to arrive at a just the right quantity of liquid intake in order to maintain erection for a considerable time, thus allowing the female party to achieve orgasm, perhaps several times, BUT also allowing for the male party to achieve orgasm after a suitable period in which the female party should have achieved orgasm AT LEAST twice. Over a certain limit and the male party cannot achieve orgasm, much more and it's Mr. Floppy, we know. I've been conducting careful experiments over the past few weeks.

HWYL FAWR!

and the mouse police never sleeps

Forget Shakespeare! Forget The drugged up romanticists of the 18th Century. William McGonagall is the poet YOU must read. Check out some Mcgonagallisms:

As I was walkin' doon the road
I saw a coo, A bull by Goad!

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

The Tay! The Tay!
The Silv'ry Tay
It goes up to Perth,
And back twice a day!

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

When the moon is upside doon,
The fishes swim from Ayr to Troon.
But when the moon is fresh and fair,
The fishes swim from Troon to Ayr.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

A chicken is a noble beast,
The cow is much forlorner;
Standing in the pouring rain,
With a leg at every corner.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

The man was a genius! Why doesn´t he a more worldwide recognition??? I hereby found the William McGonagall Apreciation Society of Porto Alegre, Brazil. 500 pounds sterling will make you a life member.

Come to the Bookfair on Saturday or Sunday and the WMcGASPOA will be holding a recital in the beer tent.

Yellow wobbly bits and Midnight Orgies

Shwmai and greetings.
In Porto Alegre if a child dies in a car accident he or she turns into an eternal, white, three-dimensional butterfly. Cute eh?
Should we eat the juicy yellow wobbly bits that come with barbied meat? I´ve been banned from doing so, but sometimes I just can´t resist.
Samhain again, I shall be conducting my usual mid-night naked dancing and orgies. Any volunteers? Trick or Treat? Sweets?? BAH! HUMBUG! Samhain is all about naked dancing and orgies. One must celebrate the freedom of the spirit world and give thanks to our ancient gods and goddesses, and one cannot adequately do so dressed as Micky Mouse.
Candles are optional.
"King" Arturius, Brian Boru, Llywelyn Fawr. What was the common factor between them? YES, they all ate the yellow wobbly bits of barbied meat. THAT´S how they were able to unite the conflicting tribes to fight against the common enemy - BIN LADEN! Wait a min. I think I´m confusing my history lessons here.
Saesson.
Vikings.
Normans.
In that order, chronologically and respectively.
On the same subject, I recommend, nay I STRONGLY advise my readers and fans NOT to go see the latest "King Arthur" film - totally crap believe me. Gwenhwyfar - that´s wee Guinevere for the Saesson - is a hot little number though, maybe it´s worth seeing the film just for her. It´s cute the way the Celtic warrior women squashed their breasts flat in order to fire the bow and wield a short sword, all those leather straps PHWOOOOERRR!! Better´n cutting ´em off like the Amazons did. Who the hell were the WOADS?? Do we not know them as Picts? Did the Saesson land with an army North of the Hadrian´s wall? I´ll have to consult my Simon Schama but I think NOT.
I have to go.
HWYL FAWR.

And is Mine One? Said Abou.

There´s a lake on my terrace. I´m thinking of breeding rare frogs and water lilies. Fresh meat and salad for the barbie.
In Hemingway´s "Alpine Idyllic" an old man uses his frozen dead wife, propped up against the woodshed wall, as a lantern support. He loved her when she was alive, he loved her when she was dead. As a lamp stand.
It reminded me of a story I heard on the radio many years ago of an old trapper working way up North somewhere in Canada or Alaska. Wrapped in animal furs with a beautiful Russian style fur hat, the trapper was telling the interviewer about a dog he once had.
"That dog was my best friend and companion. He went with me everywhere, even probably saved my life on more than one occasion with his body heat as we slept close together during blizzards."
"And where is the dog now", asked the interviewer.
"He died"
"Did you bury him in the frozen wastes?"
"Oh no, I made this wonderful hat!"
When Dylan dies I´m going to make a fur coat. Toker the Dachs will do for a pair of gloves.
After four days of Torrential Rains (hence the lake on my terrace), Porto Alegre has woken to weak sunshine.
Nay not so, replied the Angel.

Does Loch Lomond have one m or two?

Shwmai dudes!
I´m still around, still surviving the pressures of single life, fighting off hundreds of eager nymphettes etc.
Such is life.
Update on the flat. Hi-Fi with mega speakers installed, I can now annoy my neighbours with Highland Bagpipe music at ten zillion decibels.
The gun battles have stopped for the time being, maybe they heard the Highland Bagpipe music and thought it was some kind of psychological warfare of a rival gang.
I still eat miojo and PUC burgers.

the sloeblack, slow, black, crowblack, fishingboat-bobbing sea

Time passes. Listen. Time passes.
Come closer now.
Only you an hear the houses sleeping in the streets in the slow deep salt and silent black, bandaged night.

Time does indeed pass as Dylan mentioned and listen, you CAN hear it.

It's a Wednesday night, being single has brought some strange and wonderful experiences. As I sleep in the slow deep salt and silent black bandaged night, I awake suddenly with the sound of gunshots in the low down muthufuckin'mean druggang streets of Vila Cruzeiro. Pistol shot has a certain unmistakable CRACK! sound CRACK! Last night there was a rapid CRACK-CRACK-CRACK followed by - in a slightly different tone, whether caused by direction, distance or weapon - CRACK-CRACK-CRACK-CRACK. Which sounded to me very much like two guys shooting at each other over a distance with short barrelled handguns.A stray could shatter my spine, knock a chip out of my skull or make jelly of my kidneys. I edge over to the inner side of the bed.

The lady in question is wonderful.
Could this be love. Said Bob.
Don't believe a word, not a word of it is true, don't believe me if I tell you 'specially if I tell you that I'm in love with you. Said Phil.

It could be. Said Ala

bed gym

SEX is therapy for the soul.
And dammed good physical exercise for the body.

Finns and gunfights

Since I´ve been living in the flat I´ve heard the steady crack of pistol shots during the early hours once or twice a week, coming from a perpendicular street. Drug gangsters eliminating competition.
Yesterday morning there was a big police raid (half the police involved were clients anyway) and they bundled a couple of likely looking thugs into the Brazilian equivalent of a Black Maria while wives/girlfriends and other screechy wimmen looked on and screeched a lot. I had a grandstand view from my bedroom balcony. A pleasant evening could be had sitting on my terrace watching gunfights, supping fine red wine or quaffing FBAs, now that´s all been ruined by the police. Ah well.
Hello, someone visited me from Finland. Those Finnish girls in the 80s on Ayia Napa beach, one didn´t know where to direct one´s eyes. I think I wrote something about that in a previous post, check out the archives.
This written once again from PUC, mostly because I´ve got nothing much else to do ´cept hang around here. At least there´re lots of girls here. A dammed sight more than there are in my flat.
Red wine tonight I think.

Irish Pubs

Still having no computer at my new cool batchelor flat, (comlete with barbie place on an expansive terrace for naked sunbathing, ladies take note. - hmmm, naked barbies could be a little hazardous. Notwithstanding, my next installment will be a hot-tub). STILL having no computer at my cool batchelor flat, I've taken to writing this Blog at PUC (fully clothed) my wonderful (expensive) university.
Semiotics I with a bevy of nymphettes (fully clothed)is some experience.
Hitherwherewithto, Sunday nights is my night working at the Shamrock Irish pub, draught FBA and canned Guinness, and if I get a chance, good Celtic folk music, otherwise, because Si the Boss dictates, it´s Brit Rock. Neverthewarreverwhereas, the place is frequented by young ladies (fully clothed)and well worth a night of quaffing FBAs.
Witherwhatnotwherewhywhenasto, add to my previous list of Books to Read, "Lady Chatterley´s Lover" by that old horny dude Lawrence, full of profound philosophical thoughts as well as good old fashioned porn.

´sbpeen a long time since I rock and rolled

yup it´s been a long time since I wrote this log.
I see I have visitors from various places around the globe. HELLO etc (please feel free to translate into your appropriate languages)
Well I´m not quite VERY well settled yet, still got some furniture to get. I´ve got my miolo working.....(see "101 Miolo recipes").
Found this passage in D.H. Lawrence´s Lady Chatterley:

But he, the keeper, as the day grew, had realized: it´s no good! It´s no good trying to get rid of your own aloneness. You´ve got to stick to it all your life. Only at times, at times, the gap will be filled in. At times! But you have to wait for the times. Accept your own aloneness and stick to it, all your life. And then accept the times when the gap is filled in, when they come. But they´ve got to come. You can´t force them.
With a sudden snap the bleeding desire that had drawn him after her broke. He had broken it, because it must be so. There must be a coming together on both sides. And if she wasn´t coming to him, he wouldn´t track her down. He mustn´t. He must go away, till she came.

s´funny, seems I´m going through a similar experience right now

New Home New Life

It's happened, I'm now living alone in a cool flat in Cristal. Big terrace for barbies and naked sunbathing (have I mentioned that before? Am I obsessed with naked sunbathing and beer?).
I'm adjusting, the compu is still at my old home so I'm popping back occassionally to check e-mails but there's not a lot going on on the blog you may have noticed. Hold on there, normal service will be resumed as soon as possible, I'm seeing about getting a phone line installed then I'll get the compu over and have one of them there ASDL or ADSL doobriewhatsits.
How am I feeling? Sometimes lonely, getting back to the flat at night, alone, nothing there. Sometimes a feeling of a little freedom, going out chatting up (or at least trying, no success so far) girls is a novelty, I haven't done this for over 13 years, well out of practice I guess, mind you I never was any good at it.
That's yer lot for this one.
HWYL FAWR

A Túrin Turambar turun ambartanen

Thanks to the dude, wherever and whoever ye'are, who sent a comment on the Silmarillion quote. I'm going to be writing a paper on dragons in literature, so if ye've any ideas...
These are Glaurung's, Urulóki - one of the Fire Drakes of the North, dying words:

"Hail, Nienor, daughter of Húrin. We meet again ere the end. I give thee joy that thou hast found thy brother at last. And now thou shalt know him: a stabber in the dark, treacherous to foes, faithless to friends, and a curse unto his kin, Túrin son of Húrin! But the worst of all his deeds thou shalt feel in thyself!"

What was the worst of all his deeds? READ IT!!

Drink beer, eat churrasco, be naked.

Write a book, plant a tree, have a son, see Jethro Tull live.
These things a man must do in his lifetime.
I'm still working on the book.

TÚRIN TURAMBAR DAGNIR GLAURUNGA and beneath they wrote also: NIENOR NÍNIEL

It's times like this when you begin to realize how important really small seemingly unimportant things are - like tea towels. All of these things I shall have to acquire by next week (and all cost money of course). Latest developments, I've bought a cooker, second hand R$140, got no gas bottle yet. Next step is to get the electricity connected then I'll be there - well okay, aside from the fact there's no bed...plates... kfs.....chairs....bed sheets....
AND I haven't even mentioned TV...computer...microwave...
I'm reading, for the Nth time, Tolkien's Silmarillion. If you haven't read it - READ IT NOW! Immediately. Try and get yer head around it, it'll be worth your while. Here's an extract from The Tale of the Children of Húrin. Túrin Turambar:
A short diaglogue between the warrior Túrin and his sword, Gurthang:

"Hail Gurthang! No lord or loyalty dost thou know, save the hand that wieldeth thee. from no blood wilt thou shrink. Wilt thou therefore take Túrin Turambar, wilt thou slay me swiftly?"
And from the blade rang a cold voice in answer: "Yea, I will drink thy blood gladly, that so I may forget the blood of Beleg my master, and the blood of Brandir slain unjustly. I will slay thee swiftly."

It brought goose pimples and tears to my eyes. for the rest - READ I

Give me yer old chairs

Separation update. Let it be known! I shall of next week, or the week after, or the week after that, be living ALONE! In a two bedroom apartment WITH A CHURRASQUERA!! That means barbies to you unPortuguese speaking folkments. So it's bachelor parties every weekend! NOT! I still suffer from that middle age affliction, common to quite a lot of folk - NO DOSH. BYO parties are possibilites, I'll let yer know. Lots of outdoor space in the new (old) pad, big verandah for naked sunbathing!
This is a bit by bit move, I can't afford a removal company. In a couple of weeks the computer goes. I'll have to get a cooker from someplace.
FURNITURE DONATIONS WELCOME!

Thomas Hardy was indeed perplexed. James Joyce wasn't.

When confronted with a blank page.
LIKE THIS.








Even Thomas Hardy was perplexed.
So I imagine.
What the hell, I'm pissed. Again. Brazilian Fine Ale has such an effect that one can drink all afternoon, then suddenly feel pissed..well I guess that's what all beer does anyway.
Separation update is: I've found a good flat; 2 bedrooms, good location (Cristal, for those who like details) BUT no churrasquera :-( I'll have to check out the situation.
MEANWHILE.
The project is going a bit slow due to an in family bereivement. Tomorrow, I'll get back to it.

Kitchen Sinks

A kind of polite truce now exists at home. Where is that IDEAL apartment / house in the classifieds??? It must have a kitchen sink of course AND a barbecue area essential. Swimming pool optional.

The Meaning of Liff

I'm on a sort of diet based around BEER and GARLIC; it explains why I don't suffer from colds often.
It also explains why I don't have too many friends.
What is the meaning of Liff? Look it up in the dictionary.

Closing the door behind me; opening the door infront.

The title is a challenge. What am I going to put there? The first line can put people off the whole thing. So whatever will be there after I've finished typing this may have nothing to do with the content of this paragraph. I take no responsibility, I've had too many beers today to be responsible for anything.
First off today; I'd like to publicly anounce, through this means, that is my BLOG, my separation from my dear wife. Yes after 12 happy and sometimes not so happy years we've decided to go separate ways. The kids already know, Alice (12) said, "Okay, that's sensible, let's find a nice place for dad to live", Francisco (7) said, "I don't agree!".
The first stage of this separation consists of me trying to find a place to live. I've seen some dumps and some dumps! The first thing that comes to my mind is: JEEZUS WHAT A DUMP. The next thing that strikes me is, when Brazilians move out they MOVE OUT, and take everything, including the kitchen sink - REALLY! "And this is the kitchen...you can put the fridge here, the cooker here..." etc. The "kitchen" is an empty cell block with a water pipe extruding from the wall - "You put the sink here...".
Apart from the trauma of separation, I'm currently working on something that will shake the literary world by its roots; well okay maybe just by a few twigs; all I have to say is: Wait until Porto Alegre Book Fair 2004 !!
The door behind will not be closed completely, I'll leave a space for the kids to get through, and maybe later...

Evil Sausage

My long absence is in part explainable by the fact that I've just had my folks staying with me for three weeks. My Dad, a spritely 68 year old with a slight beer belly, is not difficult to please, but if you get it wrong, and I did a couple of times, you really get to know about it. Just a cold beer and an open not too noisy place seemed to be the right formula. Consequently we spent most nights at Dado Pub, which my old man dubbed "Dai Doe's" making it sound a true Welsh traditional tavern. Their 3 week visit can briefly be summarized thus: Churrasco, Dai Doe's, Cisne Branco, Churrasco, Gramado, Dai Doe's, Churrasco, Porto Alegre Tourist Bus, Dai Doe's, Public Market, Churrasco and on the last night - YES Dai Doe's ! Frequent visits paid off. On our last night the entire staff of Dai Doe's got together and presented my folks with 4 Dai Doe glasses and a letter written in perfect English, "We enjoyed having you in our pub.....etc etc." signed by all the waiters. Tears for beers.
My dad didn't think much of the evil sausage.