What A Night!!

Yesterday night was awesome! I went to a Mega Concert from the Serbian musician Goran Bregovic with the Santiago Orchestra and choral. Bregovic is an effervescent exciting soul who composed for many movies, including "Queen Margot" (with Isabelle Adjani at forty and lookin' beautiful as always) which he played along with the chorus. The beginning sounded a little like Carmina Burana, and that already rang me the bell, for how fond I am of this sound! And let me just ad(d) that his "Orchestra for Weddings and Funerals" band was exactly what Mr. Bregovic delivered to more than twenty-five thousand people. I danced along with the upbeat cords and flute sounds as if I were actually attending a great/Greek or Jewish wedding, but sometimes there were sad beats, but always in a folkloric harmonic and colourful symphony, a mixture from the gypsy and the east culture of Europe. The audience was composed from little children lying on the grass to young and older people, dancing as one. But what a surprise when I heard him almost in the end singing in Portuguese and it sounded like a fado, with a root word meaning FATE, usually a very sad song and quite popular in Portugal. All other people listened to the words without understanding. When I heard the words ausencia, carinho, solidao, "sozim" (alone), I knew what he was talking about. A wonderful diversity of being among so many people, a whole crowd of many different faces/phases and yet, understanding deep inside the meaning of it all, as he touched the core of our souls while playing the roots of all civilizations: that we are ALL-ONE!

GORAN BREGOVIC
Ausencia
Ausencia, ausencia
Si asa um tivesse
Pa voa na esse distancia
Si um gazela um fosse
Pa corrê sem nem um cansera

Anton ja na bo seio
Um tava ba manchê
E nunca mas ausencia
Ta ser nôs lema

Ma sô na pensamento
Um ta viajà sem medo
Nha liberdade um tê'l
E sô na nha sonho

Na nha sonho miéforte
Um tem bô proteçäo
Um tem sô bô carinho
E bô sorriso

Ai solidäo tô'me
Sima sol sozim na céu
Sô ta brilhà ma ta cegà
Na sê claräo
Sem sabe pa onde lumia
Pa ondê bai
Ai solidäo é um sina

Ausencia, ausencia

ENGLISH TRANSLATION

Absence, absence...

If I got wings
To fly at that distance
If I was a gazelle
To run without getting tired

Then, at your side
I would see the daylight
And "absence never again"
It would be our lemma

But only in my thoughts
I travel without fear
I got my freedom
Only in my dreams

In my deep dreams
I have your protection
I have your love
And your smile

Oh, I’m feeling lonely
Like the Sun alone in the sky
The sunshine is blind
Can’t see his clarity
What he is illuminating
Where he goes next
Oh, solitude is my FATE...



Anna

ENGLISH TRANSLATION

Kane kouragio Anna,
fight with time
My Anna, with the different habits
the different moves
You had very good manners
It was obvious that you were coming from another world
But you were doing everything you could
in order not to show it
You didn't contemn poorness
but it didn't attract you as well
Everything in you was different
Your room with the rare objects
the letters, the gifts
You bet that you had a better taste than mine!
You were coming to find me
My bed, your breast...
Anna, little dirty lady
And outside (down) the windows, a wet road
the sound of the train, the nightfall
And my room, Anna
hanged in the air
like an orange
Kane kouragio Anna

Who knows where you are now
who knows how you are doing
Who knows where you are now. How you can do
without having what you love
and without loving what you have...

You know Anna, for the two of us,
it was written (in the destiny) to meet
What could others know? How could they know?
My cutaneous little lover
Do you remember? Millions of moments
moments that become fewer and fewer
as some foray them
in front of our eyes, every day
Hopelessly (!) I fight to keep them, hopelessly (! again)
they trickle slow and they go
towards the big sea
So many years have passed
I don't wear my student jacket any more
and I can hardly get used
to this well needled costume
I don't condemn money
but it doesn't attract me so much
Agnus Dei, Yesterday

Tonight I will visit your first dream
Don't get old Anna, don't get old
Lie to your husband
Rip the invitation, cancel the dinner
Touch me, like that time, with your knee
under the table
Tonight, Anna
In the best hotel
Tonight
In your first dream
Kane kouragio Anna

Who knows where you are now
who knows how you are doing
Who knows where you are now. How you can do
without having what you love
and without loving what you have...

Don't get old Anna, don't get old
because I won't have anybody and anything
to keep me young
I am alone, still insisting here
although it has again started to rain
as it always rains in the islands
during October
Remember?
A sea made of lead and a sky of pines
Remote, mixed voices
The voice of the mother, of the friend, of the daughter,
of the brother, of the lover
of the siren of the ship
White clothes, removed quickly
just before the rain
The light was lost with them
A short walk
still...there. Next to the sea
And then...the end, the end
Kane kouragio Anna

Who knows where you are now
who knows how you are doing
Who knows where you are now. How you can do
without having what you love
and without loving what you have...

Kane kouragio Anna...
[Pou Na 'Sai Twra, Anna (Don't Give Up Anna)
Lyrics on http://www.lyricsmania.com/ ]

Why We Write

There are just many, many hidden (ridden and read on) reasons why do writers do the write thing. Isn't that so? Click on Why We Write (with a comment of mine:) and read a piece of Danny Rubin, writer of “Groundhog Day” at whywewriteseries.wordpress.com to view how many successful writers may cope with when they are not allowed to write. (Well, even when they cannot, they write). I remember each and every phrase of a good conversation, and if I do not have a pen and paper, at least I count on my own memory to Words Wide Wrap. I remember having read in some newspaper that if the educational system continued as it was, as people were reading books less and less, the world would be full of idiots who cannot even write their names. I recently read (not in the same news, but still a paper) that there is a Sci-Fi book written by a famous author (that I never read/heard) where only ignorant people would inhabit the planet, for the real intelligent ones wouldn't have children. Thank God neither one of those predictions seem exactly right. At least, the majority of people in this planet can read or write. And with the upcoming of the internet, more and more people are writing and reading. But prior to that all, quality and intention must be at the upfront. If there are poor information, most clearly they will generate poor educated people. If families, as a support system, didn't exist at all, more and more children would be left in their own devices, which in turn would be a shame for humanity. So, what really matters here? Is it just to write, or to write well, or what we write to our children? The same goes with television, cinema, theatre and all the media which make accessible information (including, especially, the internet): Good choices lead to better results. And by having a clear vision to make those choices we must share information, we must write our ideals, our experiences, our lives. I'm not a Imdb name holder, or am I on any internet "move" database nor am I a journalist (I gave up that dream when a man to whom I entered my inscription to the University told me I would add in the already big list of liars in the media) to discuss and make opinions (as I do not have any 'pinions neither am I-care(^l^)ess a peanut to think I can win one). But I recently heard (now at a TV News station) two journalists complaining about "opinionating blogs made by amateurs with no comments added" to their sharing. And I got to the conclusion, with a Confucian confusion in my head saying that Yes/No, we should write to be read, but most importantly with guts to read and hear our own selves (and now is my Socratic stomach speaking). And yes, this is a narcissistic activity, but what is not? Even when we are helping someone else, as much as it seems so altruistic, we are actually helping and thinking of ourselves, for that action comes from solely, only and lonely our own hearts, making it beneficial to our own personal growth, and if we are lucky enough may benefit others in our way to our epiphanies. And that's why I write.

Hi-Calls (a Cross tic)

San Juan de la Cruz, Patron of all poets, died in the night of December, 13/14, in a mystical place in the South of Spain. I spent my vacation last year in Andalusia and Portugal, where San Juan used to travel to apply his charity healings/hearings. In a very humid day, I went to visit his humble church there in Ubeda. I felt his presence in each corner of the building, and especially on the small table where he lied on his last days. As homage to this great Saint, whose works were influenced by Oriental philosophical concepts, I made a Novena in a Haiku alliteration/alteration of nine stanzas with nine words, each one of them made for each precedent day before the Christmas Eve (which is, beginning from today, in nine days). I hope you enjoy it as well. Have A Happy Holiday!

San Juan de la Cruz
e-ternamente
Ilumina sua luz.

Hi-Calls (a Cross tic)

Estrada praieira
Gotas de chuva
O sabor a sal

Beach city
Electric rain assaults
Taste like pepper salt.

Polluted city
Utters state so critic
Raindrops acid citric.

Evolved world
Lack of words
For human's ambitions.

Sky in graffiti
Art for elite
Tainted rainbow seat.

The oak tree
Envelops a secret:
A leaf falls.

Wind blows
In the cold breeze
Numb heart freezes.

White snow falls
Attacking army.
Red stains the scene.

Saint on the fountain.
Embare Sea
A church sees.

Ana C.

Note: Saint Anthony of Embare Basilic is a Gothic Church that contemplates the sea, and it's located in front of a sculpture of Saint Anthony in the center of a fountain. And Embare means "waters that heal" in Brazilian Indian language, and it's a beach located on my birthplace city of Santos (Saints) in Brazil where I will spend Christmas this year.



How about you? Do you have a+cross+tic to share?

United Artists

There is a very nice blog here where they explain little by little (and with minimal and decimal of details) why the writers are on strike in America. There are many, many reasons, but the bottom line is:
"Don't let
them get
us out like pet
on the internet" (and I just in-vented that!;)

Now they posted a video where screenwriter Phil Alden Robinson of "Fields of Dreams" tells us how in each generation (let's say, twenty years) that technology advance takes place, and writers find themselves LOST (no pun intended) and like the Desperate Housewives (no pun here either) they too complain to get their bargain. (the Desperate Housewives' comments)

So I went there and commented about how grateful I am that they are on this fight now. I just didn't know I would get into another fight. (giggles) View the comments and see it yourself what I am talking about:
Comments on United Hollywood Blog

Now I feel obliged to apologize if ever the captain of that titanic ship (or any other writer) comes to read my comments there or my ramblings here on my humble spaceship:

"dear captain:
Being a writer I should have known you would take my comments literally (gasp) Mea Culpa (gasp) But since I sympathise with the whole deal, in solidarity with the "WAG" (gasp) and the WGA, and just to cool things down a little (no pun intended), here is a dollar coin to go buy you a beer
...but no strings attached. Cheers!"