essa história de paternidade

É meio clichezão escrever sobre a paternidade hoje em dia… muita gente já escreveu muita (mas muita mesmo) coisa boa e, pra piorar, tô na sombra de um gênio literário, um comunicador excepcional e um dos meus melhores amigos no … Continue reading

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os brinquedos na boulangerie da Riviera

Bom, pra ir melhorando um pouco as coisas, posto abaixo os principais brinquedos que eu uso na cozinha, em adição às lajotas refratárias que compõem o fundo do meu forno: bowl scrapper – eu utilizo para remover a massa crescida … Continue reading

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baguette avec poolish – Hamelman

Atendendo a pedidos, estou posting a minha receita de baguette. Ela se originou em uma nova mania minha, ligada aos pães artesanais (EUA). Posto mais sobre isso em outro momento… É fundamental modificar ligeiramente o seu forno para que dê … Continue reading

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a coisa

Pois é… depois de um final de semana e uma segunda-feira garfieldiana, estou lentamente saindo do ralo… igual ao filme “A Coisa”! Que 72 horas de merda! Uma tristeza incontrolável, um aperto no peito de arrancar lágrimas! As coisas esão … Continue reading

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the worst part of living in a fast lane is when the state troopers pull you out of the driveway – the whole lesson you will have to learn from the officer will never be as painful as the cars flying by you…

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Things just don’t happen and they are done. They come in a flowing wave fashion, with a disturbing increase in intensity over time, trailing together related situations in an horror-movie like sequence, which are of great help for the increasing wave sensation and the certainty that you will be totalled by the crushing humongous wave.

And then… with an astonished face, you just stand looking for the unforgivable wall. And it hits the ground, destroying everything tornado-style, leaving your being as a ground zero site. And leaves you in pieces. No matter how many times you have seen it before (rest assured, I have seen it several times under my gray hair!), how deep you were hurt at the last wave session, it will crush you again – you will be defenseless. The more scars you have, the bigger is the next one. There is a feeling of not being able to deal with it. A smallness. Unavoidable…

Once destruction hits its summit, they are gone! They are gone for good. You gather your pieces together, become someone (or something) different. The experience contributes to nothing. Just sadness and the dead certainty it will come again and again and again. And the squeeze at the chest, crushing… And the wish for tomorow to never come…

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retouché

every single morning is a renewal for the soul. A white artboard idea is, however, full of shit – since the very first day you became conscious of yourself, there is no white artboard, but just a stained version for the following day. The art lives in the way you paint around and into the left stains… And I am trying hard to find its way!

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man miller

It has been long since we last met – you grew older, grayer. No news from you in a very very long term. No news at all. At first, I frowned at the idea, but it started to pound in my head and soon I started to believe you were dead. Brain dead.

But the wind has changed it all. You are no longer what I once learned to live within. You are a totally different being now.

It is time. Your time has come. Once again it is about time to cross out that door and try to live through the experience. You have done it dozens of times and I can notice you still have the chill through your spine. Good to see you are grayer, but nonetheless there is still some of the old you inside this strange building you have become.

Go and grow. Go and don’t come back. Just go.

Wait.

08/13/2008

(and over a whole year for gathering the necessary courage for publishing it!)

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back

It has been long since we last met – you grew older, grayer. No news from you in a very very long time. No news at all.

At first, I frowned at the idea, but it started to pound in my head and soon I started to believe you were dead. Brain dead.

Stall air, darkness and a creeping silence was all that my probing returned.

But the wind has changed it all. You are back. Past just flowed away. Past.

You are no longer what I once learned to live within. You returned as a totally different being now.

I see a whole bunch of new scars. Did it bring some wisdom to this different being or the pain brought you no rewards?

Is there some of the old you inside this strange being you have become?

Enough wondering. It is time.

Once again it is about time to leave and try to live through the experience. You have done it dozens of times and it still upsets your stomach.

Be back. Or not. Who cares?

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eu quero uma casa no campo

OK, já dei dicas, já falei, mas não postei nada específico… Desde o dia 21-07 estamos morando na casa nova, no bairro da Riviera, na Zona Sul…

A casa é legal, tem espaço pra brincar e muitas árvores frutíferas para amolecer até o mais empedernido dos corações do urbanóide típico.

Porém, trata-se de uma casa muito antiga (a construção original é da década de 50, embora tenha sofrido uma mudança e adições entre o final dos anos 70 e início dos 80) e, como tal, precisa de muito trabalho. Já sabíamos disso quando decidimos fechar o negócio e temos consciência que pagamos um preço honesto pela quantidade de trabalho e investimento que teremos que fazer nos próximos anos!

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