20 Apr 13 at 11 am

— Les pleurs de Sainte Chair by Cendrine Rovini

— Les pleurs de Sainte Chair by Cendrine Rovini

When you feel perpetually unmotivated, you start questioning your existence in an unhealthy way; everything becomes a pseudo intellectual question you have no interest in responding whatsoever. This whole process becomes your very skin and it does not merely affect you; it actually defines you. So, you see yourself as a shadowy figure unworthy of developing interest, unworthy of wondering about the world - profoundly unworthy in every sense and deeply absent in your very presence.

― Ingmar Bergman


23 Feb 13 at 7 pm

23 Feb 13 at 7 pm

23 Feb 13 at 7 pm

23 Feb 13 at 7 pm

19 Dec 12 at 8 pm

—  Espen Dietrichson, Variations on a Dark City


19 Dec 12 at 8 pm

Lembro, em primeiro plano,

tua estatura de planta

e recomeço a esculpir-te

em miolo de pão, pétala a pétala.

—  António Barahona, REMEMBER (de Maçãs de Espelho, Língua Morta)


14 Dec 12 at 3 am


the crocodile species

has existed for over

300 million years

and you became extinct

last night.

— Charles Bukowski, 1-23-76


11 Dec 12 at 1 am

A poet
can stick anything into the fog and make it look like a ghost.
But tonight let us not become tragedies.
We are not funeral homes
with propane tanks in our windows
lookin’ like cemeteries.
Cemeteries are just the Earth’s way of not letting go.
Let go.
Tonight, Poets, let’s turn our wrists so far backwards
the razor blades in our pencil tips
can’t get a good angle on all that beauty inside.
Step into this
with your airplane parts
and repeat after me with your heart:
I no longer need you to fuck me as hard as I hate myself.
Make love to me
like you know I am better than the worst thing I ever did.
Go slow.
I’m new to this
but I have seen nearly every city from a rooftop without jumping.
I have realized the moon did not have to be full for us to love it.
We are not tragedies
stranded here beneath it.

If my heart really broke every time I fell from love
I’d be able to offer you confetti by now
but hearts don’t break, y’all,
they bruise and get better.
We were never tragedies.
We were emergencies.
You call 9 – 1 – 1.
Tell them I’m havin’ a fantastic time.

— Buddy Wakefield, We Were Emergencies


15 Oct 12 at 1 am

Jean-Luc Godard making the last shot of 2 ou 3 choses que je sais d’elle (1967).

(Source: waltdisneywithblood, via fiftyfortyninety)


10 Oct 12 at 1 am

o que me vale aos fins de semana

é o teu amor provinciano e bom

para ele compro bombons

para ele compro bananas

para o teu amor teu amon

tu tankamon meu amor

para o teu amor tu te flamas

tu te frutti tu te inflamas

oh o teu amor não tem com

plicações viva aragon

morram as repartições

— Manuel António Pina, Todas as Palavras - Poesia Reunida (1974-2011), p. 46, Assírio & Alvim