Yes we eat chicken hearts in Brazil. What do they do with all the chicken hearts in Britain? Does anyone eat chicken hearts in any other part of the world?
There's an 'Inter' football game tonight which means the road to my class will be jammed and on the way home there'll be hundreds of drunken fans disappointed or elated but drunken anyway.
Dear readers! Y Ddraig Goch news from the deep south of Brazil is BACK. Don't go away.
If you've been following events in my life, I'm still in a flat in Cristal, still doing barbies most weekends and most importantly STILL with the Little Angel, sometimes she pisses me off with weird moods but all women do that don't they?
Barbecues
For my foriegn followers, if I have any left that is after an absence of seven months or so...
A Brazilian barbie is like this - don't read this if you are vegetarian!
Huge Slabs Of Dripping Red Meat must first be purchased from the soopie-doopie (supermarket kiddies!) or açougue - the butcher. I prefer the supermarket because at the butcher's you have to ask for the right cut and look at it and try to sound as if you know what you're talking about when you say 'hmm that's a nice piece but I wonder if you take a shave of the bottom', most Gaúchos DO know what they are talking about - I don't (I'm not Gaúcho, I'm a bachgen from Cymru), so I just go to the soopie-doopie and get ready packed meat.
Shopping list: Meat (which usually includes sausages and chicken hearts)
Bread (for the garlic bread)
Charcoal.
Beer (most important!)
oh and maybe pop for the kids. (cries of "what no salad?!)
Having purchased your HSODRM (Huge Slabs Of etc.) you must now spit it. The spits are a good yard long, depending on the size and shape of your HSODRM you'll need a double (two pronged) or single spit. A light coating of rock salt then on yer fire it goes.
Ooops forgot to mention the fire preperation.
The barbie pits here are like brick raised stand-alone (I mean they're outside on a terrace or garden wall) fire places with a short chimney. Here's the traditional Gaúcho way of preparing the fire (the alternative non-Gaúcho way is emptying the charcoal into the pit, pouring on half-litre of alchohol, light match and WOOOF!). Take a standard 600ml beer bottle and a tabloid newspaper, make sure that the newspaper has already been read by all the members of the family, neighbours etc. Make sure the beer has been drunk from the bottle. Take a double page of the paper (one sheet) and diagonally screw it up at the same time forming a ring, so you'll get a screwed up paper ring! Place this tightly over the beer bottle (if it's loose make a smaller ring). Repeat several times until the bottle complete with screwed up paper rings. Place the bottle with the SUPRs into the barbie pit and pour charcoal over the top. Make sure the bottle doesn't topple. When you've emptied the bag carefullyextract the bottle from the rings and you have a kind of short paper tube going into the charcoal, the Gaúchos call this the 'volcano', light another piece of paper and pop it into the volcano and wait. Soon it'll be roaring.
Next - drink lots of cold beer and serve the meat to your happy mates.
There have been some very interesting developments.
I feel like a teenager again, only when I was a teenager I didn't have a car, snogging in a car was one of the pleasures I hadn't experienced. Until two nights ago. Snogging on a motorcycle was quite pleasurable but not quite the same thing I guess. In fact, snogging anywhere is quite pleasurable.
Drinking cold FBAs from the bottle neck parked in a side street.
What a fine word, "snogging", a little crass maybe but it describes the activity better than the American "necking", we were certainly using our necks and also much more, maybe "facing" would be a better alternative. "Sucking face" is also a noble expression.
Whatever the expression, we were at it. Not much more, I hasten to add, I still have to take it easy.
A little sexual frustration is the sweetest kind of torture.
People are wondering why I'm going around with a permanent silly grin on my face.
One day I'll get photos and other snazzy stuff on this blog then the whole world will be able to admire and wonder over my remarkable phizzog.
This written during "Basics of Informatics" class at PUC, I'm learning how to navigate on internet! Next week we do microsoft word.
HWYL FAWR.
It's getting tough...over a month with no female company. Dude that's brutality.
I have a lady friend that's possible company for a night, but...
So now I'm back at PUC and it's high summer and delicious girls all around, this is torture.
But she is there, the girl, she knows it, I need patience, delicacy, don't push things too far or too soon. She's got two kids, she's cautious, wary of a relationship.
Just sold the '98 Fiat Palio, split the money with the ex and bought a Fiat Uno '90, great car (NOT!), well it works and I like it, makes a lot of weird noises, shimmies a lot, crunches around the gears, doesn't have a reliable fuel gauge (I keep thinking I've got no petrol, it's unnerving) but it allows me to give a lift to Little Angel after classes (a soppy name I know, but that really is her name, in another language).
Must go.
Who are you that keeps reading my blog from UK? Feel free to leave a message, say what you like.
Another relationship over. It just had to end really, I like classic English literature, she likes Spiderman. After seven months of exsquisite sex I'm alone again.
Carnaval time in Brazil, weird, the city is empty, everyone's at the beach. In my apartment block of 14 apts, only four of us stayed. Carnaval's the only time we see topless girls in Brazil. Que saudades de Chipre/Cyprus!
And once again my computer's out of commission, I'm on a host computer again, my ex-wife is kind enough to let me in the house with Francisco (my boy) while she's away at the beach, it's really so Fran can have access to the pool, tv, his toys...etc, I have none of those things in my cool batch pad (still have the terrace for naked sunbathing though girls, don't be put off!)
News from my brother (via email on my ex-wifes compu) Wales beat England in the 6 nations! Not getting any of that over here so I'm having to rely on second hand news. Let's see how far Wales can go this time.
The World Social Forum has just finnished here in PoA, what fun, it's just a huge excuse to smoke dope and wear the most rediculous clothes. Standing at the back of the "amphitheatre" watching the Gilberto Gil show we could actually HEAR EACH OTHER SPEAKING!! Crap sound, que saudades de Donnington Monsters of Rock.
Stupidest action of the whole weekend: 2am Monday, I was observing a lone, good-looking lady asking directions from several people, they directed her towards the Shopping Centre, so happened I was walking in that direction. When I reached the main road she comes up behind me and I boldly asked where she was looking for because I had seen here asking directions, the way was dark and there were very few people around. She replied "no where, why?" , " I saw you ask directions..." etc etc. And I said " Anyway the Shopping Centre's right there", "Are you going up that way? " She asks (with retrospect, hopefully or maybe even pleadingly)...."No, I'm getting a bus here..." I says ... AAARRRRGGGHHHH!! Five mins later sitting on the bus....." DUHHHH!" am I dumbo OR WHAT?!
Girls, call me, leave messages,
BYEEEE
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!
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.
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.
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.
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.
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
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.
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.
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
