2. Deathspell Omega / A chore for the lost //Álbum: Fas - Ite, Maledicti, in Ignem Aeternum [2007]
3. The Pogues / Waxie's Dargle // Álbum: Red roses for me [1984]
1. O não-dito pelas frestas: imenso acúmulo de retalhos, subterrâneos de todas as bobagens articuladas no curso de uma existência qualquer, alimenta e dissemina a vontade de persistir em acasos e recorrências de comunicação, como se preencher o necessário silêncio reconfortasse a situação de estar-no-mundo. Não uma defesa da incomunicabilidade total, apenas o jogo com palavras imbecis até o auto-convencimento da desnecessariedade de "ter algo a dizer".
2. E foi dito: aonde houver, inexista. "Desejava saber, dizia ele, o que era aquele bem sem o qual minha vida - que ele tanto apreciava - não me parecia vida, mas tormento." Mostre-se em mosaicos pelo solo, terra seca estéril, advento do já-passado, o antes tornado momento sem perspectiva. "Resgata-me da dispersão em que me dissipei quando, afastando-me de tua unidade, me desvaneci em muitas coisas." Erigido, finalmente, além dos sentidos.
3. A mesa parecia balançar, via mais pessoas ao redor do que as capacidades físicas do espaço para comportá-las, o copo: cheio, vazio, cheio, foi-se o copo, apareceu a garrafa. Agora, dentes a menos, sereno, meio-fio e a convicção em encontrar ainda mais um bar aberto antes do amanhecer.
1.
"Talvez seja melhor calar,
porque falando é meio caminho andado.
Por outro lado, eu fiz um estudo
e sei que é melhor falar besteira do que ser mudo.
E sendo eu um grande entendido no assunto,
eu paro e vejo como tem gente besta no mundo.
E sinto quão sábia é a vaca,
que segue cagando e andando pra não fazer ruma.
Mas eu posso ver mais longe,
sobre a cabeça do povo.
Mamãe diz que eu sou um pão
e o que vale é a intenção."
2.
"An exhausted fall into disgrace, famished for peace, for a mere moment of respite in dying eternities, on the verge of being deprived of all humanity: non-sense is the outcome of every possible sense, it is the start of transcendence, the dissolution that spreads without limits and the critical violation; what pleasure of inconceivable purity there is in being an object of abhorrence for the sole being to whom destiny links my life! The rupture is too profound to stand up, nothing remains but a terrified consolation in a laughable renunciation that is not the one of a single man, thou art not dead to the devoration of sin.
Every human being not going to the extreme limit is the servant or the enemy of man and the accomplice of a nameless obscenity.
Let us be a blight on the orchard, on all orchards of this world, even the least of these words will be judged during the times of reckoning, bearing a latent damnation, a feverish seduction exasperated in death, every letter is a code to extreme horror, utter contempt and divine conflict; it is a lethal to speak the language of resistance, every gasp exhales a particle of the
remission of Golgotha, as if the blazing Logos demanded the exercise of the fragile power just above the annihilation, the one of a harmony in ruins; it is a task for a man who cannot bear any longer to be, a chore for the lost in the denial of free will: perinde ac cadaver.
Every human being not going to the extreme limit is the servant or the enemy of man and the accomplice of a nameless obscenity.
Let us be a blight on the orchard, on all orchards of this world, even the least of these words will be judged during the times of reckoning, bearing a latent damnation, a feverish seduction exasperated in death, every letter is a code to extreme horror, utter contempt and divine conflict; it is a lethal to speak the language of resistance, every gasp exhales a particle of the
remission of Golgotha, as if the blazing Logos demanded the exercise of the fragile power just above the annihilation, the one of a harmony in ruins; it is a task for a man who cannot bear any longer to be, a chore for the lost in the denial of free will: perinde ac cadaver.
Le vent de la Vérité a répondu comme une gifle à la joue tendue de la piété.
God of terror, very low dost thou bring us, very low hast thou brought us..."
3.
ou: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jAufzEH0ZMY&feature=related
"Says my aul' wan to your aul' wan
'Will ye go to the Waxies dargle?'
Says your aul' wan to my aul' wan,
'I haven't got a farthing.
I went up to Monto town
To see Uncle McArdle
But he wouldn't give me a half a crown
For to go to the Waxies dargle.'
What will ya have?!
I'll have a pint!
I'll have a pint with you, Sir!
And if one of ya' doesn't order soon
We'll be chucked out of the boozer!
Says my aul' wan to your aul' wan
'Will ye go to the Galway races?'
Says your aul' wan to my aul' wan,
'I'll hock me aul' man's braces.
I went up to Capel Street
To the Jewish moneylenders
But he wouldn't give me a couple of bob
For the aul' man's red suspenders.'
Says my aul' wan to your aul' wan
'We got no beef or mutton
If we went up to Monto town
We'd get a drink for nuttin''
Here's a nice piece of advice
I got from an aul' fishmonger:
'When food is scarce and you see the hearse
You'll know you have died of hunger.'"
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