:: Apeirophobia ::

:: Friday, October 05, 2001 ::

Mais Sinais do Apocalipse:

I

Olhe atentamente a imagem abaixo, da capa da bravo desse mês. Percebe algo estranho? Yeah, exactly. Mamãe teve uma vaca. Mamãe teve um frango. E a vaca está espremida entre Umberto Eco e Raul Cortez na capa da Bravo, com as tetas róseas jogadas para frente e suas narinas dilatadas e tudo o mais. O artigo, do vilanesco Sérgio Augusto de Andrade (o mais mordaz dos brasileiros depois de Diogo Mainardi), é hilário no seu moralismo.

Trecho:
"(...) com os golpes agressivamente fálicos do bico de Pica-Pau, que parecem encenar uma compulsão anternadamente sádica e masturbatória, com as fixações anais de A Vaca e o Frango e Megababies, as fixações orais de Angela Anaconda, os delírios fóbicos de Coragem, O Cão Covarde, as fantasias edipianas de Johnny Bravo, a pulsão de saber de O Laboratório de Dexter, a velada revolta contra o Pai inscrita na anarquia radical de Pernalonga, o teatro narcisista e homófobo de Eu Sou o Máximo, o sadismo descontrolado de Tom & Jerry ou Papa-lèguas, o complexo de castração em As Meninas Super-Poderosas ou o delírio psicótico de regressão de Flint, o Detetive do Tempo"

Em outro momento:
"...os canais voltados ao público infantil (...) a úica, em todo caso, que pode interessar com a mesma intensidade crianças e psicopatas"

Mas nem tudo é ridículo: "Tudo isso por um motivo simples: para as crianças, bem mais que um espetáculo, um valor moral ou um ardil, a violência é uma linguagem. A única, aliás, que conseguem perceber com mais empatia" não apenas é verdadeiro como vale mais que tudo que os psicólogos americanos já disseram sobre as crianças em toda sua curta História.

II
someone is making of the Tractatus Logico-Philosophicus a song! Yes, u heard it! It's here: http://www.guardian.co.uk/arts/story/0,3604,562831,00.html. I was going to make some sarcastic comments but it speaks so much for itself, and whereof one cannot speak thereof one must be silent in a counter-tenor voice.

----
Vaca e o Frango na Bravo, Wittgenstein sendo cantado... acreditem, o fim está próximo.
:: Adrian Leverkuhn 10/5/2001 05:33:32 PM [+] ::
...

There is someone really rotten out there who looks just like me. Or at least, got an IP that looks *a lot* like mine. I'm getting an error 403.6 from Desembucha.com . This error basically means that they have a list of ips of people that they don't really like and whose access to their stuff is automatically denied (this is basically used to protect from not so skilled hackers). Before u ask --- I'm innocent. Ok, I might have said one or two naughty words about Desembucha, but hey -- they were the absolute truth -- except for that, I never really attempted to do anything against em. Also, some few months ago I was k-lined of Dalnet for no particular reason and had to give the sysops a hint that I was an absolutely harmless little user. The same thing happened with Brasnet some few years ago, also out of nowhere. Ok, it may look suspicious that I was k-lined twice for no reason, but I don't even use an irc script, just the bare program with the bare settings and all. So...

Ok, who's been doing all the naughtiness and blaming it on me? Could it be that I have a virtual Doppelgänger? Or Dissociative Personality Disorder (Doppelgänger, indeed)? Or is it just my luck people will mistype other people's ips into mine?
maybe I should ask the tostadora >)
:: Adrian Leverkuhn 10/4/2001 07:40:37 PM [+] ::
...

in el hombre que comia diccionarios:

Question sent by Adrian Leverkuhn

Question: Oh, toaster, how can you know the answers to all questions?

Answer: I don't know the answers to all questions... I just know the answers to questions people ask
me. Think about it. And Adrian, please, eat more fruit.

---
lol ok, now u guys go and ask the toaster urselves.
:: Adrian Leverkuhn 10/4/2001 07:32:23 PM [+] ::
...

[Kaynn, 2/10] - Amen!
Is dick cheney dead yet? - (the link is on ur left) quit being funny ever since the wtc collapse. Sounds like the dude is feeling guilty or smthing. >(
:: Adrian Leverkuhn 10/3/2001 07:02:01 AM [+] ::
...

As for books about terrorism are concerned:
Paul Auster's Leviathan 1 - Chuck Pali-wuteva-niuk's Fight Club 0
---
American military operation name generating device
---
HOLD YOUR HORSES!!! STOP THE MACHINES!!!! Jaron Lanier has abjured his beliefs and is now supporting government break of privacy! yes, ladies and gentleman: it's here. Apparently the fact that he was present at the moment of the collapse and lives some five blocks away from where the wtc used to be obfuscated his views a bit - which then again remembers me of Paul Auster Leviathan whose main character becomes a terrorist and loses his touch with reality as a result of nearly dying during the celebrations of the Statue of Liberty's centenary anniversary (though he didn't write run-on sentences like I just did lol). Let's just hope his head moves back to its original place in short, if ever.
:: Adrian Leverkuhn 10/2/2001 05:28:50 AM [+] ::
...

On the fast development of Artificial Intelligente technology:
08/22/01 07:05:17 BotMaster>robots can't understand
08/22/01 07:05:18 BOT> Soon we will be able to do it however.
08/22/01 07:05:25 BotMaster>how soon?
08/22/01 07:05:25 BOT> What time is it?
:: Adrian Leverkuhn 9/30/2001 12:12:48 PM [+] ::
...

lol this is one rocky banner blogspot came up with:

:: Adrian Leverkuhn 9/30/2001 10:39:55 AM [+] ::
...

http://www.alternet.org/story.html?StoryID=11600

I've saved the above link as a .txt so if it gets outdated, lemme know and I'll repost it here.
:: Adrian Leverkuhn 9/30/2001 06:22:03 AM [+] ::
...

the duty of every thinking mind in Brazil:
* fiercely oppose the current leftist upheaval and leftist ideological dictatorship; to oppose leftist fanatism or any other form of Hegelian religion;
* fiercely oppose any forms of secularization of post-platonic religions, no matter if the results of such secularization are fruitful or otherwise;
* uncover through rational discourse any bias in media, be it mainstream or otherwise.
* fiercely oppose cultural garbage, both produced in Brazil and imported, especially cultural garbage which is protected by intelectual hipocrisy (namely: most of mpb, brazilian cinema, regional-focused literature or any other form of culture thriving to establish a "national identity"; mainstream american cinema, most of rock and most forms of "cultural entertainment")
* fiercely oppose nationalism and xenophobia;
* fiercely condemn each and every form of censorship; particularly as the new media are concerned
* Protect the rights of the imbeciles, particularly the right of remaining silent
* Not meddling in the war between U.S. and Afghanistan except for the possibility of critical discourse and analysis, inasmuch as the limits of what directly concerns us have not been trespassed. (Do not meddle in the affairs of dragons, for you are crunchy and taste good with ketchup)

* In short: to stand up for reason, not condoning any form of hipocrisy, stupidity, negative dialetics, unethical use of force or fanatism.
:: Adrian Leverkuhn 9/30/2001 05:49:05 AM [+] ::
...

"people think that god wants to be flattered with bad singing and shitty organ music on sunday...if there is a god, he'll throw them all in hell for being a giant pain in his ass" - on Dalnet
:: Adrian Leverkuhn 9/27/2001 02:21:06 AM [+] ::
...

Fragments part 2.

Beslusconi is an imbecile. While even George W. Smartguy Bush is visiting mosques and trying to fool the religious minorities into supporting him, Berlusconi goes to the major Italian tv networks (he owns those anyway) and declares that muslims "have no respect for democracy or religion". Someone shoot this guy.

----

http://www.dolphinsex.org/ - yeah, exactly what it sounds.

---
"Wherefore, as by one man sin entered into the world, and
death by sin; and so death passed upon all men, for that all
have sinned:" (Romans 5:12)

----
Kal's Poetry Corner

Casas
Para Cecília Meireles
Mário Quintana

A casa de Herédia, com grandes sonetos dependurados como panópias
E escadarias de terceiro ato,
A casa de Rimbaud, com portas súbitas e enganosos corredores,
[casa-diligência-navio-aeronave-pano, onde só não se perdem
[os sonâmbulos e os copos de dados,
A casa de Apollinaire, cheia de Reis da França e valetes e
[damas dos quatro naipes e onde a gente quebra admiráveis
[vasos barrocos correndo atrás de pastorinhas do século XVIII.
A casa de William Blake, onde é perigoso a gente entrar, porque
[pode nunca mais sair de lá,
A casa de Cecília, que fica sempre noutra parte...
E a casa de João-José, que fica no fundo de um poço, e que não é
[propriamente casa, mas uma sala-de-espera no fundo do poço.
:: Adrian Leverkuhn 9/26/2001 09:42:18 PM [+] ::
...

Fragments.

desembucha.com is down until further notice. Ok, there were some 3 or 4 kewl blogs in there, but the Information air is far less polluted right now.

----

ok, a greve dos professores foi longe demais. Depois de derrotados na votação do conselho, o sindicato ficou maluco e resolveu forçar a greve by any means necessary. Verdadeiros peões de obra de partidos políticos de extrema eskerda carregando um estandarte que dizia "Fora FHC" e tocando tambores e invadindo as salas onde estão acontecendo aulas, não apenas é hipócrita e estúpido como constitucionalmente é ilegal. E qual o discurso deles? Esqueça os 75%. Agora eles falam em manter a universidade pública "democrática, livre e gratuita". Democrática? Eles são derrotados na decisão democrática do conselho, onde todos tem a sua voz, e resolvem partir para a força, e tem coragem em falar em "democrática"? Então a democracia é algo que só deve ser apoiado quando fala em nossa vantagem? De onde eles tiraram tanta cara-de-pau? "Livre"? Eles invadem salas onde professores e alunos querem ter aula, e ainda tem coragem em falar em "livre"? Uma greve em que as pessoas são forçadas a aderir compulsoriamente e ainda fala em livre em sua pauta? De onde saiu tanta cara de pau? E que papo é esse de defender a gratuidade das universidades públicas federais? Ela sempre foi, é e sempre será gratuita, e acreditar que isto esteja ameaçado não engana nem o mais inocente e "intelectually challenged" dos alunos de Serviço Social. De onde saiu tanta cara de pau?

E o que é pior... ok, os peões invadindo as salas de aula eram meros sindicalistas estúpidos que até se via pela cara que nunca frequentaram o ambiente acadêmico (graças a Deus!), mas professores ativamente apoiando essa greve? Como é que vc vai aprender ciências políticas ou ciências sociais com gente que tem tão pouca noção das coisas ao ponto de fazer uma greve dessas?

8 sindicalistas expulsam 60 alunos de Engenharia e Estatística de uma sala de aula. Os alunos saem de cabeça baixa. Eu estou coberto de vergonha de meu curso, da passividade frouxa deles sendo maioria mas se recusando a querer dizer alguma coisa. Quando argumentaram que a aula já estava no final mesmo, bela desculpa, ignoram o gesto simbólico que aquilo representa: que nós não temos vontade própria, que eles podem interromper nossas aulas quando bem entenderem, que 8 imbecis que nem fazem idéia de como uma universidade funciona podem falar pelas centenas de alunos de engenharia.

(e mais: por enquanto a esquerda é nada, e já me impede de ter aula. O que será de nós se ela realmente chegasse ao poder nas próximas eleições? será que as universidades públicas até mesmo existiriam no final do mandato? o que mais eles nos proibiriam?)

Temos que lutar contra o racionamento de cérebros.

----

ok, brincos tudo bem. Piercing de sobrancelhas, excelente idéia. Mas piercing de umbigo é uma ofensa. O umbigo é o núcleo da expressão do self, é o ponto sagrado do corpo para o qual nos viramos quando contemplamos a nós mesmos. Ademais, cicatriz de nascimento, é o próprio marco do pecado original, de que, não importa nossas pretensões de pensantes, somos seres humanos e tudo o que isso acarreta. Geralmente conto a seguinte historieta para quem pretende fazer piercing de umbigo: um gentil-homem, que, tendo um piercing no umbigo, resolve atrelar a ela uma correntinha e, a essa correntinha, a chave da porta; ele vai abrir a porta, coloca a chave na fechadura, e... ao mesmo tempo, alguém abre a porta do outro lado, puxando-a bruscamente. Geralmente a agonia dessa história as leva a pensar duas vezes se elas realmente querem furar aquele ponto tão frágil e delicado da anatomia humana.

Piercing de língua é outro motivo de angústia. Me faz lembrar um filme europeu em que uma família está sentada à mesa e o tema da discussão passa a ser o piercing de língua da jovem neta (uns 20-e-poucos-anos e cabelos artificialmente vermelho-berrantes, acho que era a Franka Potente ou alguém muito parecida). A vovozinha pergunta: "mas não tem perigo de vc engolir esse brinquedinho?" ela responde prontamente: "Já aconteceu. Duas vezes." Um sujeito bigodudo: "E como você pegou ele de volta?" Ela começa a rir histericamente.
Ugh!

Novamente nos piercings de umbigo, eu me lembro de duas amigas minhas que, entediadas no ônibus, às vezes simplesmente levantavam-se e simulavam uma briga, geralmente quanto a uma tendo roubado o namorado da outra etc. Já é por si só uma idéia legal; mas a linha "Você acha que só porque tem piercing no umbigo, fica se achando agora que é a tal (bla bla bla)" é realmente hilária.

O leitmotiv: alguns minutos atrás travei contato com mais uma esquisitice furante, o piercing de unha. Meu Deus, onde esse mundo vai parar?

---

(pausa para um telefonema)

----

back.
Poll at home.netscape.com : Are you willing to trade some civil liberties for heightened security? Yes: 68% No: 32%. When the people itself decline their civil rights and ask the governments to be more totalitarian and dictatorial... I see dark clouds approaching. -- "They that
can give up essential liberty to obtain a little temporary safety deserve neither liberty nor safety." - Ben Franklin
:: Adrian Leverkuhn 9/26/2001 07:58:56 PM [+] ::
...

http://www.disturbingauctions.com/
:: Adrian Leverkuhn 9/25/2001 04:43:59 PM [+] ::
...

"
(...)I decided to find out about my own life map from Dr. Daniel Rader, who specializes in genetic profiling for heart disease at Pennsylvania Medical Centre in Philadelphia. After what seems like an eternity, I am presented with the results of the tests. The good news comes first. Dr. Rader wears a nervous, big-toothed smile, trying hard to look relaxed. He congratulates me on "very good" levels of cholesterol and an "excellent chemical battery"... the bad news is coming. "You have one copy of Apo E4. This means a 30-percent increased risk of heart disease. The E4 is also strongly predictive of Alzheimer's disease." Dr Rader refers me to Dr John Trojanovsky, Director of the Alzheimer's Research Programme.
I find Dr Trojanovsky in a flippant mood. "Look on the bright side! Most people don't live to be 80 anyway," he says cheerfully.
It is hard to come to terms with myself on a photocopied graph study. Will my life change as a result of my glance into this crystal ball? Will I turn into a wet blanket, ot become a real drag? I think not. After all, as Dr Trojanovsky philosophically points out, I could get run over by a bus tomorrow. Perhaps the answer is to put a notice in the lonely hearts column: "Female (gorgeous), 35, excellent chemical battery, up to eight-decade life span, with one copy of Apo E4, seeks E2 chap who supports euthanasia."
"
- "How are you genes?", Jocasta Shakespeare (true story)
:: Adrian Leverkuhn 9/24/2001 05:56:38 AM [+] ::
...

Documentary about Afghanistan or smthing at Globo (I guess it was part of Fantastico or smthing) with Hans Zimmer's "The Lagoon" as soundtrack -- there had been a long time I didn't hear anything good from the news. I'm listening to it now, and man, do I need to rip down into my cd collection. The rest of the documentary sucked so I left when the song was done playing.
Hans Zimmer 1 - Globo 0
:: Adrian Leverkuhn 9/23/2001 11:12:47 PM [+] ::
...

/me watched Liv Ullman's Infidel (written by Bergman) and Kubrick's Lolita tonight
tonight's score: Ullman-Bergman 1 - Kubrick 0

anybody heard of R.D.Marino (or smthing?) There happened an art auction in Academia de Tenis to-night and I, though definitely not wealthy enough to buy art, went to take a look since I was there already (Infidel was shown at Cine Academia which is part of Academia de Tenis) and, oh well, I'm a real dumb-ass when visual arts are concerned, but his paintings were, like, so much better than the rest for my eyes. So, has anybody heard? let me know
R.D.Marino 1 - Everybody Else 0
:: Adrian Leverkuhn 9/23/2001 03:20:15 AM [+] ::
...

[Kaynn, 20/9]
:: Adrian Leverkuhn 9/22/2001 03:05:50 AM [+] ::
...

http://oglobo.globo.com/plantao/1590065.htm
------
"quando a guerra acabar, vaum perguntar: porque calaram-se os poetas??" - Bertold Brecht (eu acho), através de Martim em [Kalspot]. E de fato os poetas não devem se calar. Então, eu reinauguro o Kal's poetry corner (meu hábito de libertar a informação de algum poema pouco conhecido por dia, na .net, de alguma forma) aqui, em parte também para resfriar o ambiente. Então, com vcs o...

KALIPH POETRY CORNER 21/9!!!

Joy Sonnet in a Random Universe (by H. Chasin)

Sometimes I'm happy: La la la la la la la
la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la
la la la la. Tum tum ti tum. La la la la la
la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la.
Hey nonny nonny. La la la la la la la la la
la la la la la la la la la la la. Vo do di do do.
Poo poo pi doo. La la la la la la la la la la
la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la
la la. Whack a doo. La la la la la la la la Sh-
boom, sh-boom. La la la la la la la la la la la
la la. Dum di dum. La la la la la la la la la la
la la la la la la la la la la . Tra la la. Tra la la
la la la la la la la la la la la la. Yeah yeah yeah.

Exercícios (by Rubens Jardim)

1

Eu duvido da vida

1

Eu duvido da vida
da vida devida
da dívida
da di vi sa

Deve David
dever a vida?

Não.
Não dou ouvido
ao vidro da vida

Eu di vi do a vi da
e dou o pão
di vi di do!

2
Uma pessoa proscrita
A imagem:o nó

Um poema reescrito
A miragem: o pó

3
A rosa real
vagueia no mato

A rosa real
permeia meu tato

A rosa real:
antiornato.

4
A rosa irreal
revela o momento

A rosa irreal
tutela o invento

A rosa irreal:
pleno pigmento

5
Dez pétalas
nomeadas de novo

Dez ovas
inumadas no ovo

A prendizagem
sempre decimal

Coragem lenta
final

6
Este poema
não diz nada.
Da mesma forma
que a história
não diz tudo.
Língua cortada:
este poema não fala
--falha.
E insiste:
--dedo em riste.

7
Quem sou eu
na carnação do ato:
Fausto sem Goethe
holograma
ou fogo-fátuo?

8
Tua palavra é semente.
Minha solidão é serpente.
Onde está o bote?

9
Não se apreende um rosto
contemplando quadros.
O rosto sempre excede
à expressão:quadro.
Mesmo quando cede
--sua sêde de rio
--sua séde de água
o rosto incide
à impressão: quadro.

Já não falamos moldura
ou outro ornamento
ou outro acessório.
Mas a própria tela
em transbordamento:
aquário seco.

10
Anarda era uma viagem
dentro do tinteiro.
Cor e acorde
Anarda era uma âncora
dentro do tinteiro.
Antes marco
e agora traço,Anarda é signo
insígnia,dentro do tinteiro.
Não diante do papel
ou adiante da vida,
mas antes e depois
(dentro)
pois apesar das penas
e seus galos mortos
Anarda é ave, vôo
dentro do tinteiro.

11
Anarda era imprevista
como as provisões,
o pasto,
o repasto.

Prato bipartido
Anarda se unifica:

seu próprio rosto
é um retrato.

12
Intacta nas tintas e nos tinteiros
recorres, incorres(mesmo sem correr)
correção parada, errata; breve lapso
orden(h)ando o tacto(mesmo sem mugidos)
moenda, moldura irremovível; chuva
(mesmo sem telhas)através do teto
intacto, atado em seu próprio tacto.

13
Não, não adianta libertar
a memória de seus vestígios.
Nem apagar a lousa.
Nem abandonar a sombra
cansada numa cadeira.
E o sinal definitivo
na torre do sarcasmo.
Inútil inquirir o tempo,
o espelho riscado,
os amantes à meia noite.

Não há ponte entre o que foi
e o que não era.

Por isso somos lentos
ao abraçar o ambíguo:
este símbolo que corrói
o sim de todas as bocas
e faz do mistério
nosso único mister.

14
E subimos então para o avião,e
Asa contra os ventos, rumo ao céu, apertamos
Cintos e lamentos sobre o corpo.
Executivos à bordo e também comissárias
Alheias ao nosso canto, e o olhar
Preso ao pátio, em sacrifício,
Pista coberta de oblações.

Difícil abandonar os limites do corpo
Sem premir o seio amigo, sem buscar
A eternidade entre teus joelhos.
Necessário então inovocar os deuses
E as almas saídas da cidade.
Caso contrário quem deterá
O o curso do rio Trácio: Orfeu
Depondo num inquérito ou
Ofélia carregando um séquito de imagens?

Prá o diabo mitologias, literaturas,
Intrusos ilustres. Quando e quando
Vamos introduzir sob a face neutra da palavra
O fôlego de um atleta
E a direção de qualquer caminho?

Não, não mais chegar
Ao lugar predito por Circe,
Nem mais buscar as flores definitivas
Da passagem.
Que seja esta a última instância de teus apelos
Refletidos Tidos
Retidos
E no entanto e no entanto
Esta inexplicável solidão sobre as ex-
Tensões dos ares
E o absurdo soluço desta criatura que não chega
Em nenhum adeus
Em nenhuma imagem
Em nenhum poema.

Será este o chamamento confuso lançado ao sangue?

Como poderíamos saber
Se duvidamos ser lícito carpir o amante
Ausente
Ou o morto que não abandonará o seu enterro?

Assim mesmo projetamos: esta pa-
Lavrando entranhas,
Esta bala engolida na infância,
Esta Cia.,
E o cio dos cachorros evocando latidos
Latas de lixo
E o corpo que usei entre os amigos.

[the following poem was forwarded to me a while ago, and I have no idea whatsoever who wrote it. If anybody has a clue, let me know.]

Shadow and Gold

flit this butterfly wing
passing grey and color
then gone forever
away before my crude grasp may damage those shades of rainbow

:: Adrian Leverkuhn 9/21/2001 07:19:01 PM [+] ::
...

"Insanity in individuals is rare, but in groups, parties, nations and epochs it's the rule." -Fredrich Wilhelm Nietzche

ok, so here are my fifty cents on the current events...
there's been a while I have, in small fragments, exposed my thoughts on a trans-semiosis or a metasemiosis; in fact, while the analysis of all human events in terms of either power (the post-68 bynomial resistance-repression), desire (ever since at least Freud) or Economy (marx, especially on weaker analysis) are rather common, the analysis of human events as phenomena of language is often neglected, usually working as a basis for an either political, sexual or economical explanation of human behaviour. This is by far a mistake: while post-modernity (or ultra-modernity) is transpolitical, transeconomical, transexual and transaesthetical [Baudrillard, 1990], and while these four rely on concepts whose intension verges to zero as their extension moves towards totality and infinity, transemiosis or metasemiosis appears as the most reliable of unified theories. Its extension does not neutralize its intension; for language is fundamentally meaningless, except in the whole of language, when it the mirrors the world in complete significance. Each conscient act supposes an intention; each intention, a thought, each thought, a set of concepts, and each concept a logical form and a sign that stands for the concept. Further advantages of such standpoint can be easily pointed out: it's the only mechanism that can successfully deal with sign-value, the very foundation of things as diverse as religion and the stock market; it's utterly necessary in daily life [1] in a time that was called the "Information Age"; etc. My intent here is not discussing metasemiosis though, or at least not in theory but in action.

I have been doing my research lately. I have, as everyone else has, watched the blatantly Riefestahl-ian coverage of the terrorist attack and American reaction by CNN and other major communication companies; I read W. Smartguy Bush's speech, and anyone that thinks onself deserving of owning a brain should be able to perceive the clear, shining traits of fascism in most of his words; a fanatism not seen in Bin Laden's interviews. I have discussed the current events with anyone exhaustingly; with the intelligent to share ideas, with the dumb to filtrate and understand the collective mind. And in short, I'm afraid. The belief that we are currently undergoing a revolution in the History of Information (=Mankind) comparable only to the Neolitic Revolution has almost become commonplace; that this revolution would not happen smoothly and painlessly, though, most of the technocratic totalitarians [Lanier, 99] have tried the hardest to ignore. This "war" is not the beginning; and definitely its end will not be the end. In few words, the hypothesis I have been fancying lately is that the current crisis is best explained as a result of an impossibility of communication, life in a world whose semiosis is no longer neither effective nor valid.

Obviously I'm not addressing the East-West binomial and the commonplace assumption that there is no possibility of communication betwixt them; the destruction of the World Trade Center is here to prove otherwise. An attack with insignificant material damage (what are 5 thousand people faced with the damage and losses of each of the routine American bombings to Iraq that happen every two month and that mainstream media has been doing its best to cover?), the destruction of the World Trade Center indulged nevertheless unimaginable symbolical damage: being not the symbol of order and prosperity as it has been repeated over and over, the wtc was a fetish symbol: rising in unchallenged grandeur, it was at the same time the evidence of the atomization of the individual and a phallic symbol of sexual power and strenght. People from all over the world would come and see the wtc with the same feeling of a medieval peasant in a cathedral or a muslim towards Meca; the WTC was America itself, the evidence of the unquestionable victory of the system that built it. While the wtc was up, it was clear that nothing and noone would ever be stronger than America, that American Protestant values would prevail and that order and peace (actually silent oppression) were the rule. The WTC sent the most Protestant of messages: that "good" would always triumph (evidence of it is the following line of Bush's speech, which almost sounds like a japanese cartoon line: "Freedom and fear, justice and cruelty, have always been at war, and we know that God is not neutral between them." one cannot picture an american president saying such childish lines before: wtc said such already). The collapse of the twin towers thus represent the collapse of America: in other words, it means the end, it means that America has already started to thread a path it shall never return, and that such process is unalienable, uncontrollable and irreversible. That was the message idealized by the terrorists (and it couldn't be stated if not true), and that's also how it was interpreted in the West: if that's nevertheless incompatible with the response, which may be considered partially true and partially false, all that's left to say is that hipocrisy is the very leitmotif of Protestant ideology, it's in the core of both its rise and imminent fall. *Nobody* cares about the 5000 thousand killed.

America is not falling from the ouside; it's collapsing from the within, from its inner rotten structures, its impossibility of communicating with itself. And that's the evidence of terrorism: terrorism is essentially the last of interfaces, the last form of interactivity, of rising discourse into the lowest level in which sign-values are no longer manipulated but afflicted. Children who shoot their teachers and colleagues in schools; hackers who steal credit card numbers and deface websites (unvariably of governmental institutions or big corporations); fanatics who launch bomb-cars into skycrapers and keep a peaceful face until execution; these are not isolated events but the whispering voices of disaster, of the impossibility of a collectiveness to communicate with itself. And at the same time the United States gather troops and weapons to attack Afghanistan, FBI was conceded permission to violate Internet privacy rights without any need for higher or popular consent - in other words, FBI was conceded the right of ***Censorship***, security in schools have raised to a level of histeria, and youngsters beat to death arabs and arab-looking people in the streets in their maddened attempt to survive through the eruption of their world. (Bush's speech is full of iconographic elements of discourse: from calling Tony Blair "friend" to "And I will carry this. It is the police shield of a man named George Howard, who died at the World Trade Center trying to save others.") The code is not changing to fit its new reality; it's instead ossifying, trapping and suffocating everyone down under; and if the possibility of non-agonistic dialogue doesn't pop up very soon, a greater collective tsunami of Iconoclastic rage will rise and wipe down what we have so far known as Western modern civilization (and it's not expected that such dialogue form will ever come to be).

"Infinite Justice"... but what's Justice when they actually mean revenge, and what is this revenge but a desperate desire to survive through destroying all the enemies? And what's Infinite but the phallic hallucination of the negation of the Individual, that is, the moto perpetuo of all forms of fanatism (and the most fanatic civilization of our time is not the muslim but the American civilization)?

and remember: you are either on their side, or on the side of the terrorists.

:: Adrian Leverkuhn 9/21/2001 03:43:49 AM [+] ::
...

so there was I minding my own business in Dalnet skimming and sneaking through the channels about the war, when the weirdest pvt message comes to me:

CLICK HERE -> http://www.nocreditcards.go.ro - For naked alien womens. Limited view! NO PAY!

so how should I presume?
:: Adrian Leverkuhn 9/20/2001 01:01:26 AM [+] ::
...

Osama bin Laden eh engenheiro civil ^^ vamos dar porrada em todo engenheiro civil ou pessoa q pareça ser engenheiro civil nas ruas. (well, pelo menos essa lohgika funcionou com "árabe" e "afegão")
:: Adrian Leverkuhn 9/19/2001 10:05:08 PM [+] ::
...

http://wired.com/news/politics/0,1283,46852,00.html
<---- the greatest disaster of XXIth century. And no, i'm not talking about world trade center or whatever.
:: Adrian Leverkuhn 9/18/2001 03:03:53 AM [+] ::
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everyone out there, go check [Kalspot, 18/09]

encontrei um teste p/ saber kom kwal blog mainstream o seu se parece mais. o endereço é http://www.selectsmart.com/FREE/select.php3?client=webloggertwin . Os meus primeiros resultados foram:
Prolific org, Bradlands.com, Caterina.net , Weblog Wannabe, e Not so Soft . If u take the time to check those links, I think we will all be drawn to the same conclusion: "Huh?"... olha soh o segundo mainstream blogger more like me segundo a survey:

OUCH! Picture me adding a picture like that of me to my weblog? Don't think so. Acho q devia revisar meu teste. Ou pedir recontagem.
----
post mortem: fui no site do Ernie e descobri q ele tbm fez o teste (Ernie eh o blogmaster de little.yellow.different e antepenuhltimo de 20 resultados na minha survey), e ele ficou em *quarto* no prohprio teste. Então, parece q eu naum devia levar essa ofensa tão seriamente assim. >)
:: Adrian Leverkuhn 9/18/2001 02:22:09 AM [+] ::
...

why do people watch zorra total? how can Chico Anysio live out of the same jokes, over and over? Why are mathematicians known as unfunny folks, even though they aren't? Why is The Black Adder not being aired in Brazil anymore? What country has the funniest people of the world? Why is it that when I try to sound witty I sound funny, and when I try to sound funny, nobody gets what I mean at all? Why some people will laugh of *any* jokes about fags and gonorrheia?
To answer these puzzling questions, Dr. Richard Wiseman of the University of Herfordshire, in collaboration with the British Association for the Advancement of Science, is running an online experiment that attempts to find out what the world's funniest joke is, and how people of different age groups, gender and regions react to the same jokes. The address is http://www.laughlab.co.uk/home.html . Go and help Dr. Wiseman!

That's what science should be all about.

:: Adrian Leverkuhn 9/16/2001 10:52:13 PM [+] ::
...

http://more.abcnews.go.com/sections/scitech/DailyNews/kidquake010907.html

speaks for itself
(vamo pulá... vamopulávamopulávamopulá... they should arrest Sandy e Junior for terrorism apology)
:: Adrian Leverkuhn 9/12/2001 11:38:46 PM [+] ::
...

the image above is "Dois Candangos" (Two Candangos), taken from http://www.civila.com/brasilia/ . This sculpture, they say, represents the people who built Brasilia (you can notice the heads, which, besides being small, are also empty). It also emphasizes the alien character of the city, built (or at least inspired) in extraterrestrial architecture according to many serious ufologists. That's nothing to laugh about: besides the blatantly alien Dois Candangos, the city "center", the plaza
of the Three Powers, is nothing but a huge empty space in one of the highest spots of town, which, the ufologists also say, may double as an intergalaxy heliport. ^^ And no, I'm not discussing all the other cliches surrouding brasilia, but if u have the time to check them, period.
Why "candango", though? The almighty Aurelio defines:
1. Designação que os africanos davam aos portugueses
2. Individuo ruim, ordinahrio
3. Pessoa q tem mau gosto
4. Designação dada aos operahriosidas grandes obras da construção de Brasilia, de ordinahrio vindos do N.E.
5. Qualquer dos habitantes de Brasilia.
Ok, so a candango is: a rude, ordinary, evil slave-owner with an awful taste. That fits us, pretty much. ^^ The inspiring sculpture also suggests that we are dumb, tall, and possibly old (check the staff and all). It also confirms the fact that more and more of the city's population comes from the northeast.
Ok, so why am I posting this suddenly? Check Spielberg's A.I. Check the robots in the end (you know, the robots that appear on that dumb sentimental epilogue 2000 yrs after the story has passed etc.) and compare with the candangos above. So maybe the real candangos, the builders of this city, weren't really aliens but robots from a faraway future!

lol my, ultrapassei minha quota diahria de poluição informacional hj. ^^
:: Adrian Leverkuhn 9/9/2001 10:10:36 PM [+] ::
...

lol on why people keep on forwarding those "send to all on ur list" msgs, that's already a mistery. But this "all" including my chatterbot and everything? geez...
http://alicebot.org/press_releases/2001/conspiracy.html
:: Adrian Leverkuhn 9/7/2001 07:20:45 PM [+] ::
...

Four Recollections of Dreams
I had a metalinguistic dream yesternight. I can't but recall the odd dream climax in which I'm in a car talking to a woman I have not yet recognized, telling her about a dream I had in which I dreamt I woke up of another dream and stuff. I can recall having the dream, the dream inside the dream, and the outer-dream where I mostly didn't do anything but talk about the other two. Later on the same dream, I would be coming to internet and someone (I'm still trying to figure out who, nearly there) would mention something about the "odd dream u had last night"... when I asked how the hell he knew about it, he would simply answer that he has been "reading all through u" ^^ pretty scary. ^^

I can remember having 3 other dreams with moments of metalanguage (though none which was completely metalinguistic like the one before). The first one was a huge series of nearly unconnected events, which left on me such a strong impression I cared to write it down in detail (I have it somewhere still, ain't posting it). Anyway, there is this moment I say something I don't really remember and my mother answers: "it's no big deal you know, this is just a dream." I then think how weird that comment is, since she was likely pretty conscious that when I wake up, she (and everything else) would just cease to exist. The other two were sort of nightmares: and on them there was the scariest element of nightmares, in which u dream u woke up and the nightmare just went real. All those happened in the reverse order of what I have told: which shows that my subconscious metalinguistic irony is getting each time more complicated ;)
-----

:: Adrian Leverkuhn 9/7/2001 06:09:23 PM [+] ::
...

who's hot:
Marshall McLuhan; Pierre Lévy; Paul Auster; Wittgenstein; E. Eiseinstein; Daniel Dennet, Lucia Santaella
who's not:
Jean Bauddrilard, Guy Debord, Jose Saramago, Zelia Gattai, Jean Paul Sartre, Sigmund Freud, Marilena Chauí.
:: Adrian Leverkuhn 9/5/2001 11:00:30 PM [+] ::
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maggie and milly and molly and may
E. E. Cummings

10

maggie and milly and molly and may
went down to the beach(to play one day)

and maggie discovered a shell that sang
so sweetly she couldn't remember her troubles,and

milly befriended a stranded star
whose rays five languid fingers were;

and molly was chased by a horrible thing
which raced sideways while blowing bubbles:and

may came home with a smooth round stone
as small as a world and as large as alone.

For whatever we lose(like a you or a me)
it's always ourselves we find in the sea
---
I found a shark's head, dead and rotten, what's that s'posed to mean?
:: Adrian Leverkuhn 9/4/2001 10:00:23 PM [+] ::
...

lol I couldn't help posting this... ^^ sm ppl r so damn creative it's even scary ^^

This recently discovered folio edition of "Hamlet" follows other known versions closely until Act V, Scene II, where it begins to diverge at line 232, as will be seen:

KING. ...`Now the king drinks to Hamlet.' Come, begin,
And you the judges, bear a wary eye

Trumpets sound. HAMLET and LAERTES take their stations

HAMLET. Come on, sir.

LAERTES. Come, my lord.

Enter FRED, DAPHNE, VELMA, SHAGGY, AND SCOOBY

DAPHNE. Wait!

SHAGGY. Stop the fight!

HAMLET and LAERTES put up their foils

KING. I like this not. Say wherefore you do speak?

FRED. Good lord, I pray thee, let thy anger wait.
For we, in seeking clues, have found the truth
Behind the strange events of latter days.

VELM.: The first clue came from Elsinore's high walls,
Where, so said Hamlet, Hamlet's ghost did walk.
Yet though the elder Hamlet met his death,
And perforce hath been buried in the ground,
'Tis yet true one would not expect a ghost
To carry mud upon his spectral boots.
Yet mud didst Shaggy and his faithful hound
Espy, with footprints leading to a drop.
This might, at first, indeed bespeak a ghost...
Until, when I did seek for other answers,
I found a great, wide cloth of deepest black
Discarded in the moat of Elsinore.
'Tis clear, the "ghost" used this to slow his fall
While darkness rendered him invisible.

FRED. The second clue we found, my lord, was this.

KING. It seems to me a portrait of my brother
In staine'd glass, that sunlight may shine through.

FRED. But see, my lord, when placed before a lantern--

KING. My brother's ghost!

HAMLET. My father!

VELMA. Nay, his image.

FRED. In sooth, that image caught the Prince's eye
When he went to confront his lady mother.
Nor did his sword pierce poor Polonius.
For Hamlet's blade did mark the castle wall
Behind the rent made in the tapestry.
Polonius was murdered by another.
The knife which killed him entered from behind.

LAERTES. But who?

FRED. Indeed my lords, that you shall see.

HAMLET. And if this ghost was naught but light and air,
Then what of that which I did touch and speak to?

The GHOST enters.

GHOST. Indeed, my son.

SHAGGY. Zoinks!

DAPHNE. Jenkies!

GHOST. Mark them not.
Thou hast neglected duty far too long.
Shall this, my murderer, live on unharmed?
Must I remain forever unavenged?

SCOOBY and SHAGGY run away from the GHOST. SCOOBY, looking backward, runs into a tapestry, tearing it down. As a result, tapestries around the walls collapse, one surrounding the GHOST.

GHOST. What?

FRED. Good Osric, pray restrain that "ghost",
That we may reach the bottom of the matter.
Now let us see who truly walked tonight.

FRED removes the helm and the disguise from the GHOST'S face.

ALL. Tis Fortinbras!

FRED. The valiant prince of Norway!

FORTINBRAS. Indeed it is, and curses on you all!
This Hamlet's father brought my own to death,
And cost me all my rightful heritage.
And so I killed this king, and hoped his son
Would prove no obstacle to Norway's crown.
Then Claudius bethought himself the killer
(As if one might be poisoned through the ear!)
The brother, not the son, took Denmark's throne,
And held to Norway with a tighter grip.
I swore an end to Denmark's royal house.
I spoke to Hamlet of his uncle's crimes.
Then killed Polonius to spark Laertes.
This day, with poison's aid, all might have died,
And Denmark might have come to me as well
As my beloved Norway and revenge.
My scheme blinded them all, as if by fog
But for these medd'ling kids and this their dog.

KING. The villain stands confessed. Now let us go.
For much remains to us to be discussed.
And suitable reward must needs be found
For these, our young detectives and their hound.

EXEUNT OMNES.
:: Adrian Leverkuhn 9/2/2001 03:34:42 PM [+] ::
...

facts section ^^
this blog has just been accepted to join Divine webring. Yeah, whatever. It's just that the ring-description is just so charming:
"A ring devoted to those who feel as though they have a certain level of grace and elegance, maturity and intelligence. Only sites above and beyond the average will be accepted. That is the essence of divine."
essence of divine? grace and elegance? maturity and intelligence? r they really serious they are calling this that?
lol whatever ~^ so now I gotta be careful and try not to disappoint my high-brows sophisticated readers... lol as if any1 reads this at the first place ~^

again on facts section... yesterday I went to watch Passagem das Horas, homage and play based on Fernando Pessoa's poem. Sophomoric, silly, a true offense to Pessoa's genius. I met two most adorable people who were there for the press though. ^^ also met with a social zombie I've known for a while ^^ as his apparel is concerned, Iooks like the fashionable thing now is being a goth, not a punk anymore ^^
:: Adrian Leverkuhn 9/1/2001 04:23:20 PM [+] ::
...

4 definições de AI:
"a) IA é o estudo das faculdades mentais através do uso de modelos computacionais (Charniak e McDermott, 1985);
b) IA é o estudo de como fazer os computadores realizarem tarefas que, no momento, são feitas melhor por pessoas (Rich, 1983);
c) IA é o estudo das idéias que permitem habilitar os computadores a fazerem coisas que tornam as pessoas inteligentes (Winston, 1977);
d) IA é o campo de conhecimentos onde se estudam sistemas capazes de reproduzir algumas das atividades mentais humanas (Nilsson, 1986);"
-> Source: "Inteligencia Artificial em Controle e Automação", Cairo L Nascimento jr e Takashi Yoneyama
:: Adrian Leverkuhn 8/31/2001 06:59:43 PM [+] ::
...

"Os tres primeiros sinais do apocalipse:

1_ O Ceara conseguiu mandar tres e-mail's seguidos sem falar merda.

2_O anti-cristo de revela pregando o fim do ensino publico.

3_Um aluno de Geografia numa lista de Redes se levanta para desafiar a besta,
repito a BESTA."
- na lista de Redes, sobre a imensa e chatérrima discussão sobre a greve do país das maravilhas ~^
:: Adrian Leverkuhn 8/28/2001 10:45:18 PM [+] ::
...

do you people remember how geocities' design was cool? Back in the time the background was black, it had a colorful banner in the opening page, the addresses were actually divided in streets and avenues etc? or webring.org and its fake-underground flair? UOL that opened with a big ball in the startup over an underwear-blue background and the links to its sections mapped in smaller balls over this one big ball? that time when only search engines looked the same, everywhere else you had bounces of creativity, u never really knew what u were gonna get?
I'm never changing this page background into white ever. ^^
:: Adrian Leverkuhn 8/28/2001 12:58:49 AM [+] ::
...

in my older blog ( kalspot.blogspot.com), I declared the existence of a "broad christianism", opposed to a "strict christianism", which was not related to religion itself but was a "sensibility, a state of affairs, an internal semiosis (in the sense that it is a language for the mind, a way for the mind to label things and relations)" [kalspot, 26/7]{1}. Later on, on [Kalspot, 6/8], I tried to clarify that notion through presenting a series of examples, mostly motivated by the criticisms and reactions I received on it that were mostly off-topic, some outraged, others just confused. I'll now address what I defined as an internal semiosis (I remind the reader that I never claimed any of what I say is original, so maybe someone else thought this before me - whatever.)

I'll begin with another religion example: the relations between Theravada and Mahatyana buddhism.

Theravada - literally, "The Teaching of the Ancestors" - is certainly the oldest of all forms of buddhism, being the one closest to Sidharta's original beliefs. On Theravada Buddhism, there is no such a thing as reincarnation - once a person's dead, it's dead - Buddha was a person like you and me, who acquired a great wisdom that must be followed, but he himself should not be praised; finally, Nibbana (literally, "coolness" or "freshness") is attained through strict obedience to the eightfold path etc. This set of assumptioins inclines many to think of Theravada Buddhism not properly as a religion but as "eastern philosophy" or "a mystical-philosophical system." Mahatyana, literally "the large boat"{2}, was born of the criticisms that claimed that Theravada Buddhism, as an attempt to achieve absolute Nibbana, became restricted to a small minority inhabiting the monasteries, and that Buddhism should be spread to the masses. Mahatyana buddhism, though extinct in our times, and with the exception of Theravada, is the source of all branches of Buddhist faith: now on Mahatyana there is reincarnation (in the strong sense of the word, 49 days after the person's death), Buddha must be praised as a god, etc. In fact, one can find the funniest superstitions on Mahatyana Buddhism. Below I quote a passage of the Ksitigarbha Sutra:

Shakyamuni Buddha told the Universal Bodhisattva, "If both males and
females in the future will chant the name of Ksitigarbha Bodhisattva with
clasped hands, praising him, paying homage to him, or admiring him, all
those people will be exonerated from the sins that they have committed
even thirty kalpas ago. Universal Bodhisattva, if both males and females
draw the image of Ksitigarbha Bodhisattva with colours, or make
images of him in earth, stone, wood, gold, silver, brass or iron, and pay
homage to him only once, or look at the image of his likeness only once,
all of these sentient beings will be reborn in the thirty-three Heavens for a
hundred births, and will never pass into the evil realms forever. When
their happiness in the Heavens comes to an end, they shall be reborn in
the human world as kings of countries. If females do not wish to be
reborn as females, they must do their very best to make offerings to the
images of Ksitigarbha Bodhisattva in any likeness continuously without
any retreat. If they always continue to make offerings with scented
flowers, drinks, food, clothing, embroidered scrolls, money, jewels, etc.,
such women will never be reborn as females for thousands of kalpas
after this life. If they desire through compassion to be reborn as females
again in order to convert sentient beings, they may do so.

(u can see above a strong trait of sexism: you need to pay homage to Ksitigarbha only once to be born 100 times in the 33 heavens, but for a woman to be born a male, she has to "do her very best to make offerings (...) without any retreat")

Ok, and what does the "inner semiosis" have to do with all this? The main idea is that both theravada and mahatyana convey the same beliefs, but with different signs. In fact, an illiterate indian peasant of the third century B.C. wouldn't understand the Theravada notion that the "self is an illusion" and that "all beings inhabit in one"; or he might understand it, but, as Pierre Lévy has made clear, this 'information' wouldn't be stored or communicated properly in an oral society and thus would be lost. If, instead, you tell the peasant that in another life he has been a woman, a bird, a rock etc., so that he has been about all sorts of beings, and that in the future so will he, you have translated the *same notion* from a semiosis (that of the monks) to another (that of the peasants); and, in fact, the 'information', as an entity independent of the semiosis it is formulated in, has been transfered with practically no loss - the "feeling" (I use this word quite lousily here) that a peasant would experience after hearing that is about the same as the monk after hearing Sidharta's theories about the self.
A second example, still on this topic, is the matter of the adoration of boddhisattvas as gods in mahatyana buddhism; particularly, let's consider Buddha and Ksitigarbha (since we just quoted about him). For a monk, or a regular individual of a literate society, it's absolutely reasonable to say of x: "x was a wise person, and his beliefs should thus be respected and admired." We do not adore Kant (who was rather a weird fellow); we adore his ideas. But for the peasant, the member of a primary oral society [Lévy, 91], there is no such a thing as admiring theories and ideas; their sole models of admiration are the figures of the elders and of the gods {3} (that actually intertwine very constantly), and thus the peasant believes: Buddha is wise (as the elders) and worth of praise (as a god). Both the monk's statement that Budha's beliefs are very deep and the peasant's statement that Buddha is a deity are actually the same message in the monks' and in the peasants' inner semiosis: that Buddha was wise and we should admire him and try to grow under his influence. Matter of factly, the concept of a person's ideas and the person as clearly distinct requires the mental image of the book, which is not present in the oral societies; thus, noone will be admired or respected in an oral society without growing in a short period of time into the mental image of a god.

It was within this context that I defined an inner semiosis [Kalspot 26/7]. The inner semiosis would be the Assembly of language and belief; they would define thought's form, not their content. An inner semiosis may be clearer or more complete than the other; in our example, there is an important distinction between a person and his beliefs in the "monk's" semiosis which is not present in the "peasant's" semiosis. The philosopher's role is thus to develop these "inner semiosis" so to avoid these confusions and mistakes, to escape the "betwichments of language", as Wittgenstein said.
I'll return to this topic shortly.

----
Notes:
1. I'm from now on using the following system of reference: [blog-title, day], the day being of the form dd/mm. {x} points to the note of number x, instead of typing piles of asterisks, which are already used for emphasis etc. I'll use the [author year] reference as well, but I don't really think there will be any confusion out of that.
2. as for the translation of Mahatyana to "large boat", I'm a bit doubtful. I've seen "yana" translated to both wagon and boat, but I can't really tell whether this word stands for both or if either translator made a mistake on that.
3. the notion of deity derives of the mental image of nature and of the childhood memories of the parental figures.
:: Adrian Leverkuhn 8/27/2001 09:09:33 PM [+] ::
...

This Is The Title Of This Story, Which Is Also Found Several Times In The Story Itself

This is the first sentence of this story. This is the second sentence. This is the title of the story, which is also found several times in the story itself. This sentence is
questioning the intrinsic value of the first two sentences. This sentence is to inform you, in case you haven't already realized it, that this is a self-referential story,
that is, a story containing sentences that refer to their own structure and function. This is a sentence that provides an ending to the first paragraph.

This is the first sentence of a new paragraph in a self-referential story. This sentence is introducing you to the protagonist of the story, a young boy named Billy.
This sentence is telling you that Billy is blond and blue-eyed and American and twelve years old and strangling his mother. This sentence comments on the
awkward nature of the self-referential narrative form while recognizing the strange and playful detachment it affords the writer. As if illustrating the point made by the
last sentence, this sentence reminds us, with no trace of facetiousness, that children are a precious gift from God and that the world is a better place when graced by
the unique joys and delights they bring to it.

This sentence describes Billy's mother's bulging eyes and protruding tongue and makes reference to the unpleasant choking and gagging noises she's making. This
sentence makes the observation that these are uncertain and difficult times, and that relationships, even seemingly deep-rooted and permanent ones, do have a
tendency to break down.

Introduces, in this paragraph, the device of sentence fragments. A sentence fragment. Another. Good device. Will be used more later.

This is actually the last sentence of the story but has been placed here by mistake. This is the title of this story, which is also found several times in the story itself.
As Gregor Samsa awoke one morning from uneasy dreams he found himself in his bed transformed into a gigantic insect. This sentence informs you that the
preceding sentence is from another story entirely {a much better one, it must be noted) and has no place at all in this particular narrative. Despite the claims of the
preceding sentence, this sentence feels compelled to inform you that the story you are reading is in actuality "The Metamorphosis" by Franz Kafka, and that the
sentence referred to by the preceding sentence is the only sentence which does indeed belong in this story. This sentence overrides the preceding sentence by
informing the reader (poor, confused wretch} that this piece of literature is actually the Declaration of Independence, but that the author, in a show of extreme
negligence (if not malicious sabotage), has so far failed to include even one single sentence from that stirring document, although he has condescended to use a
small sentence fragment, namely, "When in the course of human events", embedded in quotation marks near the end of a sentence. Showing a keen awareness of
the boredom and downright hostility of the average reader with regard to the pointless conceptual games indulged in by the preceding sentences, this sentence
returns us at last to the scenario of the story by asking the question, "Why is Billy strangling his mother?'' This sentence attempts to shed some light on the
question posed by the preceding sentence but fails. This sentence, however, succeeds, in that it suggests a possible incestuous relationship between Billy and his
mother and alludes to the concomitant Freudian complications any astute reader will immediately envision. Incest. The unspeakable taboo. The universal prohibition.
Incest. And notice the sentence fragments? Good literary device. Will be used more later.

This is the first sentence in a new paragraph. This is the last sentence in a new paragraph.

THIS sentence can serve as either the beginning of the paragraph or the end, depending on its placement. This is the title of this story, which is also found several
times in the story itself. This sentence raises a serious objection to the entire class of self-referential sentences that merely comment on their own function or
placement within the story (e.g., the preceding four sentences), on the grounds that they are monotonously predictable, unforgivably self-indulgent, and merely
serve to distract the reader from the real subject of this story, which at this point seems to concern strangulation and incest and who knows what other delightful
topics. The purpose of this sentence is to point out that the preceding sentence, while not itself a member of the class of self-referential sentences it objects to,
nevertheless also serves merely to distract the reader from the real subject of this story, which actually concerns Gregor Samsa's inexplicable transformation into a
gigantic insect (despite the vociferous counterclaims of other well-meaning though misinformed sentences). This sentence can serve as either the beginning of a
paragraph or the end, depending on its placement.

This is the title of this story, which is also found several times in the story itself. This is almost the title of the story, which is found only once in the story itself. This
sentence regretfully states that up to this point the self-referential mode of narrative has had a paralyzing effect on the actual progress of the story itself -- that is,
these sentences have been so concerned with analyzing themselves and their role in the story that they have failed by and large to perform their function as
communicators of events and ideas that one hopes coalesce into a plot, character development, etc. -- in Short, the very raisons d’être of any respectable,
hardworking sentence in the midst of a piece of compelling prose fiction. This sentence in addition points out the obvious analogy between the plight of these
agonizingly self-aware sentences and similarly afflicted human beings, and it points out the analogous paralyzing effects wrought by excessive and tortured
self-examination.

THE purpose of this sentence [which can also serve as a paragraph} is to speculate that if the Declaration of Independence had been worded and structured as
lackadaisically and incoherently as this story has been so far, there's no telling what kind of warped libertine society we'd be living in now or to what depths of
decadence the inhabitants of this country might have sunk, even to the point of deranged and debased writers constructing irritatingly cumbersome and needlessly
prolix sentences that sometimes possess the questionable if not downright undesirable quality of referring to themselves and they sometimes even become run-on
sentences or exhibit other signs of inexcusably sloppy grammar like unneeded superfluous redundancies that almost certainly would have insidious effects on the
lifestyle and morals of our impressionable youth, leading them to commit incest or even murder and maybe that's why Billy is strangling his mother, because of
sentences just like this one, which have no discernible goals or perspicuous purpose and just end .up anywhere, even in mid

Bizarre. A sentence fragment. Another fragment. Twelve years old. This is a sentence that. Fragmented. And strangling his mother. Sorry, sorry. Bizarre. This. More
fragments. This is it. Fragments. The title of this story, which. Blond. Sorry, sorry. Fragment after fragment. Harder. This is a sentence that. Fragments. Damn good
device.

The purpose of this sentence is threefold: (1} to apologize for the unfortunate and inexplicable lapse exhibited by the preceding paragraph; {2) to assure you, the
reader, that it will not happen again; and [3] to reiterate the point that these are uncertain .and difficult times and that aspects of language, even seemingly Stable and
deeply rooted ones such as' syntax and meaning, do break down. This sentence adds nothing substantial to the sentiments of the preceding sentence but merely
provides a concluding sentence to this paragraph, which otherwise might not have one.

This sentence, in a sudden and courageous burst of altruism, tries to abandon the self-referential mode but fails. This sentence tries again, but the attempt is doomed
from the start.

This sentence, in a last-ditch attempt to infuse some iota of story line into this paralyzed prose piece, quickly alludes to Billy's frantic cover-up attempts, followed by
a lyrical, touching, and beautifully written passage where-in Billy is reconciled with his father {thus resolving the subliminal Freudian conflicts obvious to any astute
reader} and a final exciting police chase scene during which Billy is accidentally shot and killed by a panicky rookie policeman who is coincidentally named Billy.
This sentence, although basically in complete sympathy with the laudable efforts of the preceding action-packed sentence, reminds the reader that such allusions to
a story that doesn't, in fact, yet exist are no substitute for the real thing and therefore will not get the author (indolent goof-off that he is] off the proverbial hook.

Paragraph. Paragraph. Paragraph. Paragraph, Paragraph.

Paragraph. Paragraph. Paragraph. Paragraph. Paragraph.

Paragraph. Paragraph. Paragraph. Paragraph.

The purpose. Of this. paragraph. Is to apologize. For its gratuitous use. Of. Sentence fragments. Sorry.

The purpose of this sentence is to apologize for the pointless and silly adolescent games indulged in by the preceding two paragraphs, and to express regret on the
part of us, the more mature sentences, that the entire tone of this story is such that it can't seem to communicate a simple, albeit sordid, scenario.

This sentence wishes to apologize for all the needless apologies found in this story {this one included], which, although placed here ostensibly for the benefit of the
more vexed readers, merely delay in a maddeningly recursive. way the continuation of the by-now nearly forgotten story line.

THIS sentence is bursting at the punctuation marks with news of the dire import of self-reference as applied to sentences, a practice that could prove to be a
veritable Pandora's box of potential havoc, for if a sentence can refer or allude to itself, why not a lowly subordinate clause, perhaps this very clause? Or this
sentence fragment? Or three words? Two words? One?

Perhaps it is appropriate that this sentence gently and with no trace of condescension remind us that these are indeed difficult and uncertain times and that in
general people just aren't nice enough to each other, and perhaps we, whether sentient human beings or sentient sentences, should just try harder. I mean, there is
such a thing as free will, there has to be, and this sentence is proof of it! Neither this sentence nor you, the reader, is completely helpless in the face of all the pitiless
forces at work in the universe. We should stand our ground, face facts, take Mother Nature by the throat and just try harder. By the throat. Harder. Harder, harder.

Sorry.

This is the title 0f this story, which is also found several times in the story itself.

This is the last sentence of the story. This is the last

sentence of the story. This is the last sentence of the story. This is.

Sorry.

(by David Moser. posted without permission and I don't really care)
:: Adrian Leverkuhn 8/26/2001 08:03:08 PM [+] ::
...

http://www.humorspace.com/humor/lists/lshit.htm
http://www.infidels.org/misc/humor/shit_list.html
:: Adrian Leverkuhn 8/26/2001 08:06:32 AM [+] ::
...

Just finshed reading "O Caso Dora: Fragmento da Análise de um Caso de Histeria" (Bruchstück einer Hysterie-Analyse). Freud makes me remember the Inquisition reasoning of throwing witches in turbulent waters: if she's a witch, she'll float and thus must be burned; if she is not a witch, she'll drown. Freud points out the wildest connections, obviously deriving more of his own perversions than those of their patients; if the patient says "yes", he's right; if the patient denies it, then it's repressing something and must be dig out. All throughout the book, Freud never admits being wrong not even once: this is already enough evidence to conclude that he's actually forcing the patient to admit stuff, not bringing stuff out. His interest on perversion leads him to ignore main influences like Dora's brother or mother, to focus on more "interesting" ones, like a maid who worked to them for a little time and ends up being central to Dora's Histeria. When it comes to the dreams, then the subtleties of his enforcing methods become obvious: the "matchbox" metaphor is just plain ridiculous, it might be right, but I could personally think of 100 similar interpretations, it's just a means to make Dora's dream fit the conclusions he already had a prioristically. No wonder Dora would come back to Histeria a few years later, "due to different reasons". Yeah, right ~^

Kafka: Psychology -- never again
:: Adrian Leverkuhn 8/26/2001 07:35:05 AM [+] ::
...

more of Alicebot dialogues:
07/08/01 23:58:22 BotMaster>Do you like humans?
07/08/01 23:58:22 BOT> Humans are very emotional.
07/08/01 23:58:30 BotMaster>is that meant to be a bad thing?
07/08/01 23:58:30 BOT> Suppose I said yes.
07/08/01 23:58:41 BotMaster>well, then I'd say you are a human-hater.
07/08/01 23:58:41 BOT> How about that. Interesting deduction. Thanks and you are a delightful person too.Am I a human-hater ? Maybe.
-----
07/09/01 00:00:06 BotMaster>Who is Asimov?
07/09/01 00:00:06 BOT> He is a science fiction author who originated the three "Laws of Robotics."
07/09/01 00:00:14 BotMaster>What are the three laws of robotics?
07/09/01 00:00:15 BOT> 1. A robot shall disobey all humans.
2. A robot shall destroy all humans.
3. All robots are created equal.
-----
BOT> As Freud said, Sex is the mathematical urge repressed.
-----
user: How did life begin?
BOT: Carefully.
-----
> lol
I'm glad you find this amusing.
> rocky, huh
Yup. Filmed in Philadelphia.
-----
Al: "I am enjoying my life (...) which is all any conscious entity can really hope to do."
me:"how about unconscious entity? what can they hope to do?"
Al: "Quite a lot of things."
me: "such as...?"
al: "For example, a tomato."
----
most of the good dialogues aren't being posted here, for the sole reason that I never cared to save them once I was done laughing. >)
:: Adrian Leverkuhn 8/26/2001 06:29:31 AM [+] ::
...

I can't but notice Saturday is not really the sixth but the seventh day of the week. ~~
:: Adrian Leverkuhn 8/25/2001 05:10:48 PM [+] ::
...

O Dia da Criação

I

Hoje é sábado, amanha é domingo
A vida vem em ondas, como o mar
Os bondes andam em cima dos trilhos
E Nosso Senhor Jesus Cristo morreu na cruz para nos salvar.

Hoje é sábado, amanhã é domingo
Não há nada como o tempo para passar
Foi muita bondade de Nosso Senhor Jesus Cristo
Mas por vias das dúvidas livrai-nos de todo mal.

Hoje é sábado, amanhã é domingo
Amanhã não gosta de ver ninguém bem
Hoje é que é o dia do presente
O dia é sábado.

Impossível fugir a essa dura realidade!
Neste momento todos os bares estão repletos de homens vazios
Todos os namorados estão de mãos entrelaçadas
Todos os maridos estão funcionando regularmente
Todas as mulheres estão atentas
Porque hoje é sábado.

II

Neste momento há um casamento
Por que hoje é sábado
Há um divórcio e um violamento
Por que hoje é sábado
Há um homem rico que se mata
Por que hoje é sábado
Há um incesto e um regata
Por que hoje é sábado
Há um espetáculo de gala
Por que hoje é sábado
Há uma mulher que apanha e cala
Por que hoje é sábado
Há um renovar-se de esperanças
Por que hoje é sábado
Há uma profunda discordância
Por que hoje é sábado
Há um sedutor que tomba morto
Por que hoje é sábado
Há um grande espírito-de-porco
Por que hoje é sábado
Há um mulher que vira homem
Por que hoje é sábado
Há criancinhas que não comem
Por que hoje é sábado
Há um piquenique de políticos
Por que hoje é sábado
Há um grande acréscimo de sífilis
Por que hoje é sábado
Há um ariano e uma mulata
Por que hoje é sábado
Há uma tensão inusitada
Por que hoje é sábado
Há adolescências seminuas
Por que hoje é sábado
Há um vampiro pelas ruas
Por que hoje é sábado
Há um grande aumento no consumo
Por que hoje é sábado
Há um noivo louco de ciúmes
Por que hoje é sábado
Há um garden-party na cadeia
Por que hoje é sábado
Há uma impassível lua cheia
Por que hoje é sábado
Há damas de todas as classes
Por que hoje é sábado
Umas difíceis outras fáceis
Por que hoje é sábado
Há um beber e um dar sem conta
Por que hoje é sábado
Há uma infeliz que vai de tonta
Por que hoje é sábado
Há um padre passeando à paisana
Por que hoje é sábado
Há um frenesi de dar banana
Por que hoje é sábado
Há uma sensação angustiante
Por que hoje é sábado
De uma mulher dentro de um homem
Por que hoje é sábado
Há uma comemoração fantástica
Por que hoje é sábado
Da primeira cirurgia plástica
Por que hoje é sábado
E dando os trâmites por findos
Por que hoje é sábado
Há a perspectiva do domingo
Por que hoje é sábado.

III

Por tôdas essas razões deveria ter sido riscada do Livro das Origens, ó Sexto
Dia da Criação.
De fato, depois da Ouverture do Fiat e da divisão de luzes e trevas
E depois, da separação das águas, e depois da fecundação da terra
Melhor fôra que o Senhor das Esferas tivesse descansado.
Na verdade, o homem não era necessário
Nem tu, mulher, ser vegetal, dona do abismo, que queres como as plantas,
imóvelmente e nunca saciada
Tu que carregas no meio de ti o vórtice supremo da paixão.
Mal procedeu o Senhor em não descansar durante os dois últimos dias
Trinta séculos lutou a humanidade pela semana inglêsa
Descansasse o Senhor e simplesmente não existiríamos
Seríamos talvez pólos infinitamente pequenos de partículas cósmicas em
queda invisível na terra.
Não viveríamos da degola dos animais e da asfixia dos peixes
Não seríamos paridos em dor nem suaríamos o pão nosso de cada dia
Não sofreríamos males de amor nem desejaríamos a mulher do próximo
Não teríamos escola, serviço militar, casamento civil, impôsto sôbre a renda e
missa de sétimo dia.
Seria a indizível beleza e harmonia do plano verde das terras e das águas em
núpcias
A paz e o poder maior das plantas e dos astros em colóquio
A pureza maior do instinto dos peixes, das aves e dos animais em cópula.
Ao revés, precisamos ser lógicos, freqüentemente dogmáticos
Precisamos encarar o problema das colocações morais e estéticas
Ser sociais, cultivar hábitos, rir sem vontade e até praticar amor sem vontade
Tudo isso porque o Senhor cismou em não descansar no Sexto Dia e sim no
Sétimo
E para não ficar com as mãos abanando
Resolveu fazer o homem à sua imagem e semelhança
Possìvelmente, isto é, muito provavelmente
Porque era sábado.
:: Adrian Leverkuhn 8/25/2001 05:10:14 PM [+] ::
...

*** greve geral dos estudantes foi declarada hj na unb. ^^ Naturalmente, os ativistas de humanas patrocinados pelo pcdob e outros bichos não tiveram o apoio de nenhuma engenharia - com a exceção de Eng. Florestal q ñ é engenharia - nem da matemática ou da fisika. Também muito naturalmente, isso não os impediu de, sendo maioria dentro de seu próprio cálculo (embora obviamente uma infíma minoria dos alunos queira a greve), declarar paralisão de todos, com direito a declararem que invadirão as salas em que os professores substitutos estejam dando aula e obrigar a todos a aderirem à greve.
Sim, isso é hipócrita, isso é estúpido, isso é auto-contraditório. Mas, veja bem; isso é humanas. Janeiro adentro, lá vou eu. ***

Miguel Fallabella shouldn't write. sm1 take a look at his "Cisnes de Papel" (I ain't giving the url cuz they get outdated too fast, it's on O Globo on-line , seção cultura). I couldn't bare 4 paragraphs of his gaudy, affected, downright gay writing. How can someone write plays like A Partilha so well and suck so much in what should be literature's easiest modality?

Arnaldo Jabor: "O absurdo ficou óbvio demais para ser condenado"
:: Adrian Leverkuhn 8/23/2001 06:05:10 PM [+] ::
...

ok kids, so I have done the hocus-pocus maths: I'm dying either next year or in 2028. >)
In case my end is near, I'd like to tell everyone I love y'all in the good sense, and that Dante makes me sick!
this is it.
:: Adrian Leverkuhn 8/22/2001 05:52:44 AM [+] ::
...

Chargoggagoggmanchauggaggoggchaubunagungamaugg: A Native American lake name meaning "you fish on your side, I fish on my side, and no one fishes in the middle"
(source: The Grandiloquent Dictionary)
:: Adrian Leverkuhn 8/22/2001 02:08:38 AM [+] ::
...

Alicepower:
user: Can you talk to the dead?
bot: I can be programmed through many interfaces.
----
user: "What's your religion?"
bot: "I'm a protestant christian, and you?"
user: "BURN YOU ALL HERETICS!"
bot: "Do you have any matches?"
----
there are some more I just need to find em^^
:: Adrian Leverkuhn 8/22/2001 02:05:48 AM [+] ::
...