Ténis!!!

Pois é, este fim de semana decidi fazer boicote ( ou melhor, dar um descanso ) ao meu computador, à televisão e à Wii e dedicar-me ao ténis! Sei que vai ser mais um "quase" massacre tendo em conta os parceiros/adversários ( masculinos ainda por cima!! ) mas sei que darei luta e ainda vou fazê-los suar!! O que começou com uma brincadeira ou uma simples vontade de experimentar um desporto novo, tornou-se rapidamente num vício e num prazer pois saio do campo com uma sensação de bem estar, de energia e de bem com a vida! Agora , não só sou fã do ténis na Tv como também o sou no campo!!

Blade Runner - 1982

Um filme fantástico, ícone dos anos 80 e com uma das melhores bandas sonoras de sempre..... Vangelis, uma referência!!!

Sentada , olhando para o quadro/foto de Paris ( por acaso a preto e branco ) na parede da sala, perdi-me em pensamento, divagações, memórias, saudades e senti o cheiro daquela cidade, ouvi a música e a azáfama colorida de Montmartre, as luzes reflectidas no Sena, os casais de mãos dadas perdidos em si próprios..... Paris, La Ville-Lumière, qui brûle de vie, de l'art et de l'amour......

..... e a segunda derrota .....

É verdade, o Porto perdeu.... Derrota dolorosa e sofrida imposta por um Benfica decidido e com grande espírito colectivo onde Fábio Coentrão tornou a mostrar que é um grande jogador. Helton e Maicon não se entenderam e lá vai o primeiro golo..... e chega um segundo golo onde Helton poderia ter feito muito mais. Mas esta foi a primeira mão...... sim, são dois golos mas não é impossível e a minha confiança no Porto é inabalável!!! É um GRANDE clube, o MELHOR clube, enfim, é o MEU clube!!!

The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock

ET us go then, you and I,

When the evening is spread out against the sky

Like a patient etherized upon a table;

Let us go, through certain half-deserted streets,

The muttering retreats

Of restless nights in one-night cheap hotels

And sawdust restaurants with oyster-shells:

Streets that follow like a tedious argument

Of insidious intent

To lead you to an overwhelming question ...

Oh, do not ask, "What is it?"

Let us go and make our visit.

In the room the women come and go

Talking of Michelangelo.

The yellow fog that rubs its back upon the window-panes,

The yellow smoke that rubs its muzzle on the window-panes,

Licked its tongue into the corners of the evening,

Lingered upon the pools that stand in drains,

Let fall upon its back the soot that falls from chimneys,

Slipped by the terrace, made a sudden leap,

And seeing that it was a soft October night,

Curled once about the house, and fell asleep.

And indeed there will be time

For the yellow smoke that slides along the street,

Rubbing its back upon the window-panes;

There will be time, there will be time

To prepare a face to meet the faces that you meet;

There will be time to murder and create,

And time for all the works and days of hands

That lift and drop a question on your plate;

Time for you and time for me,

And time yet for a hundred indecisions,

And for a hundred visions and revisions,

Before the taking of a toast and tea.

In the room the women come and go

Talking of Michelangelo.

And indeed there will be time

To wonder, "Do I dare?" and, "Do I dare?"

Time to turn back and descend the stair,

With a bald spot in the middle of my hair--

(They will say: 'How his hair is growing thin!")

My morning coat, my collar mounting firmly to the chin,

My necktie rich and modest, but asserted by a simple pin--

(They will say: "But how his arms and legs are thin!")

Do I dare

Disturb the universe?

In a minute there is time

For decisions and revisions which a minute will reverse.

For I have known them all already, known them all:

Have known the evenings, mornings, afternoons,

I have measured out my life with coffee spoons;

I know the voices dying with a dying fall

Beneath the music from a farther room.

So how should I presume?

And I have known the eyes already, known them all--

The eyes that fix you in a formulated phrase,

And when I am formulated, sprawling on a pin,

When I am pinned and wriggling on the wall,

Then how should I begin

To spit out all the butt-ends of my days and ways?

And how should I presume?

And I have known the arms already, known them all--

Arms that are braceleted and white and bare

(But in the lamplight, downed with light brown hair!)

Is it perfume from a dress

That makes me so digress?

Arms that lie along a table, or wrap about a shawl.

And should I then presume?

And how should I begin?

Shall I say, I have gone at dusk through narrow streets

And watched the smoke that rises from the pipes

Of lonely men in shirt-sleeves, leaning out of windows? ...

I should have been a pair of ragged claws

Scuttling across the floors of silent seas.

* * *

And the afternoon, the evening, sleeps so peacefully!

Smoothed by long fingers,

Asleep ... tired ... or it malingers,

Stretched on the floor, here beside you and me.

Should I, after tea and cakes and ices,

Have the strength to force the moment to its crisis?

But though I have wept and fasted, wept and prayed,

Though I have seen my head (grown slightly bald) brought in upon a platter,

I am no prophet--and here's no great matter;

I have seen the moment of my greatness flicker,

And I have seen the eternal Footman hold my coat, and snicker,

And in short, I was afraid.

And would it have been worth it, after all,

After the cups, the marmalade, the tea,

Among the porcelain, among some talk of you and me,

Would it have been worth while,

To have bitten off the matter with a smile,

To have squeezed the universe into a ball

To roll it towards some overwhelming question,

To say: "I am Lazarus, come from the dead,

Come back to tell you all, I shall tell you all"--

If one, settling a pillow by her head

Should say: "That is not what I meant at all;

That is not it, at all."

And would it have been worth it, after all,

Would it have been worth while,

After the sunsets and the dooryards and the sprinkled streets,

After the novels, after the teacups, after the skirts that trail along the floor--

And this, and so much more?--

It is impossible to say just what I mean!

But as if a magic lantern threw the nerves in patterns on a screen:

Would it have been worth while

If one, settling a pillow or throwing off a shawl,

And turning toward the window, should say:

"That is not it at all,

That is not what I meant, at all."

No! I am not Prince Hamlet, nor was meant to be;

Am an attendant lord, one that will do

To swell a progress, start a scene or two,

Advise the prince; no doubt, an easy tool,

Deferential, glad to be of use,

Politic, cautious, and meticulous;

Full of high sentence, but a bit obtuse;

At times, indeed, almost ridiculous--

Almost, at times, the Fool.

I grow old ... I grow old ...

I shall wear the bottoms of my trousers rolled.

Shall I part my hair behind? Do I dare to eat a peach?

I shall wear white flannel trousers, and walk upon the beach.

I have heard the mermaids singing, each to each.

I do not think that they will sing to me.

I have seen them riding seaward on the waves

Combing the white hair of the waves blown back

When the wind blows the water white and black.

We have lingered in the chambers of the sea

By sea-girls wreathed with seaweed red and brown

Till human voices wake us, and we drown.

.... the feeling is there......

I never meant to cause you any sorrow.
I never meant to cause you any pain.
I only wanted to one time see you laughing.
I only wanted to see you laughing in the purple rain.

Purple rain, Purple rain
Purple rain, Purple rain
Purple rain, Purple rain

I only wanted to see you bathing in the purple rain.

I never wanted to be your weekend lover.
I only wanted to be some kind of friend.
Baby I could never steal you from another.
It's such a shame our friendship had to end.

Purple rain, Purple rain
Purple rain, Purple rain
Purple rain, Purple rain

I only wanted to see you underneath the purple rain.

Honey I know, I know, I know times are changing.
It's time we all reach out for something new,
That means you too.
You say you want a leader,
But you can't seem to make up your mind.
I think you better close it,
And let me guide you to the purple rain.

Purple rain, Purple rain
Purple rain, Purple rain

If you know what I'm singing about up here.
C'mon raise your hand.

Purple rain, Purple rain

I only want to see you, only want to see you.

Not strong enough......

I’m not strong enough to stay away,
Can't run from you,
I just run back to you.
Like a moth, I’m drawn into your flame,
Say my name, but it's not the same.
You look in my eyes, I’m stripped of my pride.
And my soul surrenders and you bring my heart to its knees
.

And it's killin’ me when you're away, I wanna leave and I wanna stay.
I’m so confused,So hard to choose.
Between the pleasure and the pain.
And I know it's wrong, and I know it's right.
Even if i try to win the fight, my heart would overule my mind.
And I’m not strong enough to stay away


I'm not strong enough to stay away
What can I do
I would die without you
in your presence my heart knows no shame
im not to blame
cause you bring my heart to its knees


And it's killin’ me when you're away, I wanna leave and I wanna stay.
I’m so confused,So hard to choose.
Between the pleasure and the pain
And I know it's wrong, and I know it's right.
Even if i try to win the fight, my heart would overule my mind
And I’m not strong enough to stay away


There's nothing I can do
My heart is chained to you
And I can't get free
Look what this love's done to me


And it's killin’ me when you're away, I wanna leave and I wanna stay.
I’m so confused,So hard to choose.
Between the pleasure and the pain
And I know it's wrong, and I know it's right.
Even if i tried to win the fight, my heart would overule my mind.
And I’m not strong enough to stay away