Wednesday, 3 September 2014

Farturas


The smell of farturas (a frie type of cake, covered with sugar and cinnamon, usually found on any Portuguese fair) does not sicken the early evening. The sun went away after hours, as the moon complained. The lights of the fair mixed with the dusky lusco of the end of the day and the party was just beginning.

In the pavilion the music infects everyone inside. Even those who are not adept heel prick a little leg which in turn takes the whole body behind. But who gives the show dance belly with pride of those who have learned this new way and are here for all to see. And we see. And dance. And fiddles. And do not forget. Is uptight, yes ma'am, but lack the soul that is so lacking how the color does not catch him in this country of all seasons. Sorry that winter leave the skin without sun marks, (maybe not) wobbles, it's not what will worry. The important thing is not to cheat. After all, the lights always disguise and its noise is not perceived.

Down here the public vibrates ... glazes: the men, with the bodies of the dancers, the women are not entitled to their bodies. In some cases, thankfully, not all are role models, much less model-dancers: if you do not know the choreography stir the bely with a yoga session, for example. At least it can mess - is the power of the mind.

Whatever the audience watching, the desire is contained. Be the little girl, the chick or dude, the secret desire to see the show will not own them. Being a dancer for a day, for a lifetime, learn the art or lamenting that his girlfriend does not know or do one day maybe a surprise party, you are only within each one. And it's just yours.

The night, in turn, is all and all go in circles. Outside not even know you imagine what we saw and heard there. Dragon in the evening we went around the fair. Low prices, almost always magic is frank and ask fritters with greedy eyes and voice, but restrained:

- It's only two, please!

And suffice! Satisfied!

I take it home and will remember this evening tomorrow, when I'm eating.


Sunday, 31 August 2014

Revista revisited

In the afternoon the combined group met on a terrace of Restauradores, for the usual cheerful prattle before dinner, that would happen on a terrace on Rua das Portas de Santo Antao, complete with grilled seafood or other lagareiros snacks, accompanied of street entertainment. The singing of the national and international popular music was ambient sound, followed by her frantic juggling of a capoeira group. The interaction was mild but fun, as always. The bill was paid quickly not to lose the beginning of the show, that was about to start. But all we needed to do was to cross the street.

Portugal à Gargalhada - Portugal to Laugh (PG) is a revista à portuguesa (a Portuguese theatre genre that mixes singing with sketches, usually funny and wit social satire).  It is showing at Politeama, Lisbon, with Emglish subtitles. It begins with a  sketch that tries to mix fiction with the reality that viewers had the opportunity to witness live before entering the room. The actor mimics the La Feria - the director - who loves shouting to the public to sell them the program, it always helps to purchase a few more precious bucks to pay for the precious production given to us.

Onset is typically magazine rack, but I liked more the beginning of the previous revista, seen a year earlier (the Portuguese Grand Revista - Grande Revista à Portuguesa - GRP), with a stylized satire dedicated to the masters of the Troika that at the time were around here. That was also good, but to the latter I will dedicate today's words.

I do not think special grace to the usual rhymed phrases of some scenes, although the own style of theater that director-director-rp-marketeer-and-everything-and-everything, except that the always brilliant Marina, which unprejudiced shows us one day on the day of a character, from waking up to shower, put on a cap, having a tummy ache, trying unsuccessfully to relieve gut and leave for work. Almost always rhyming on a brilliant monologue, of course.

Monchique has equal brightness, mainly puppet of wistful Amalia with interesting contracenas Garrett, Sophia or other persons who are (or want to be) in the National Pantheon. Black played once again by Marina leaves the audience laughing as the title of the show but this actress singer is due another memorable scene where on stage at the São Carlos plays a lyrical singer who likes to mix in some well known themes opera, letters of other known fados. The result is quite hilarious because of her voice and her brilliant interpretation. Memorable theme music in Barcelona that doing Monserrat Caballet is accompanied by an equally good singer, Ricardo Soler, who does a Freddie Mercury to the level of that singer.


The play is also headed by José Raposo and by Maria João Abreu, kings of vaudeville, which was rummaging La Feria to return, in this production, the theatrical sea in that as well swim. After all, this is their theatre kingdom. It's good for the public good actors as they occasionally leave the screens to give us with these unique moments of ephemeral art that is theater.

Also noted are the remaining good professional and experienced artists, like singer-actress Paula Sá, Patricia Resende, Filipe Albuquerque, Bruna Andrade, Miguel Paul and David Mosque, which round out a cast of about 70 elements, including actors, singers, musicians and dancers.
But Filipe La Feria shares the laurels of authorship with Helena Rocha, staying in charge of the choreography Marco Mercier and musical director Mário Rui.

The production communicates this magazine, like any of this musical genre worth its salt, takes the stage at the Politeama "the good-natured and biting the situation of Portugal of today and their protagonists critical reviewing our current politics, economic and social with a razor-sharp and scathing criticism, full of humor [and] music."
Three hours of big smiles and ripped then returns to the public, probably less funny than that false life, but laughter and true happiness real life.
Outside the theater people disperse. Will already high at night and my group will also firing with time. Slowly, we walked at night and moments later pass us, already unmasked and dull, Marina Mota and Joaquim Monchique, who we welcome with enthusiasm for the good work they have done.

Yes, for them it is 'only' work. But for us - for me, at least - all that work, all that production, this entire industry is a service provided willingness to society and the art world.
Whether or not one likes this kind of theater, so often despised by the most conservative or the most intelectualóides liberal intellectuals.
I, at least, I review it always favorably, like the first time I participated in a revista (amateur) - Saídas da Casca - Outputs of Hull - in the mid-90s, my first theatrical experience, which would open new perspectives for me this world make-believe. Lots of sand since then went on my way. I remember now that at the time I went to see a revista - Mama eu Quero - Mama (Breasts, in Portuguese) I want - where were, precisely, Maria João Abreu and Joaquim Monchique (among others of course), in roles I never forget.

A big thanks to all the professionals of art and a special stage director of the Saídas da Casca, Elizabete Lobo, who as actress Mama I want, more than once took me to their scenes. Still insists - very well - in making this genre does not die in Seixal. Even an amateur way, the love for this art is nonetheless true.

Not tried to be analytical of the revista here frisked as to cause me to revisit memories that I ended up lightly. Not intended to do so. But I suggest reading the analysis that Nuno Lopes does in Nineteen page (with the right to meaningful comparison with the previous GRP). But better, better, watch it live. To laugh. In the theater, of course.



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Monday, 25 August 2014

Garrett: man, boat and milk shop



Garrett was an Almeida,  a writer and playwright who created one of the most dramatic scenes of the Portuguese theater (in Frei Luis de Sousa, 1843). Between Almada and Lisbon, the action has a Tagus the middle, half a sea that separates the two sides and the plots in the play.

Garrett is the name of a catamaran that crosses the Tagus river ... The same that witnesses many other stories, equally dramatic or happy. I am glad that above its waters I can be inspired and evade myself in my own thoughts. Most of them vanish as soon as the boat docks in the wharf. Some I dock at words with which I write many of my texts. Like this, which by now was berthed at Cais do Sodré. And I ascend to the Camões square.

Garrett is the name of a street that runs through downtown Lisbon, that on August 25, 1988 witnessed a fire that made Chiado a spectacle of fire and smoke, and on that day all the weekenders wanted and could testify. Exactly 26 years ago, from the fourth floor where we lived, near the Causeway of Combro, from the window of our house, I could also watch the smoke covering the city. I could feel it as a harbinger of what was a passage of time from the Grandela to the current time, to the shopping center that ended the tradition of purchasing on that mythical commercial space. After lengthy years of reconstruction, weekenders could create new tradition of consumption to that iconic and busy area. On this stree you can no longer purchase milk.

Garrett was the name of a milk shop on Chiado, which in turn inspired Vitorino (a popular singer from Alentejo). Many times as a child when I went to school, I passed him on the esplanade of the Lion Tavern (RDP front, down the street from St. Martial, in Lisbon) and he was waiting for inspiration to come. Or that life just passed. With joy I still keep his music on my memory:

Chiado in the evening, sometimes, smiling go hand in hand, Good guys are good Portuguese
Ai Madame your indigestion
The ideal of empregaditas finória Caraça
So goes a costume, wears many cheetahs
Say olé! Pro Montefiorino
Milk shop Garrett tat Ai foot takes his hand, John,
From sweet thigh Already, before it was not ...
The Saricoté was to stop Marques Pras There Fine Arts ...
Anyway is it! (Says the progress) Tea with toast, John,
Where will I go, I've been, but I'm not Linda youth, gone the sun though, It gets me to Saudade ...

Dairy Garrett (1984), Vitorino (free translation) Listen from the video
Vitorino at the Coliseum (Lisbon) 1985 - Leitaria Garrett
Original lyrics:
No Chiado à tardinha, às vezes, Sorridentes vão de mão na mão, Bons rapazes, são bons portugueses Ai Madame a sua indigestão Ideal das empregaditas A finória vai um figurino Tão caraça, veste muitas chitas Diz olé! prò Montefiorino Leitaria Garrett dá cá o pé Ai tira a mão, João, Da coxa doce, Já está, antes não fosse... O Saricoté, foi parar à Marques Lá pràs Belas-Artes... Assim mesmo é que é! (Diz o progresso) Chá com torradas, João, Pra onde é que eu vou, Já fui, mas já não sou Linda mocidade, foi-se o Sol embora, Fica-me à Saudade... 
Leitaria Garrett (1984), de Vitorino

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Saturday, 23 August 2014

12 years slave of your love











It was there, right there, on that bench, I waited for you for the first time.
I remember the moment, the sun, the minutes of anxiety, increased by not having a mobile phone. It was not so long ago, but it has been a long time since I know that you are the one way road that goes from the heart to the love and passing through our bodies.
And if we have lived so much,  if the albums and moments accumulate, they are few to what I am hopping to live in your company.

And if today I do not write a poem and this love letter does not appear to be one, it's just because it is not supposed to be so. Because between being and feeling, I felt this way, without many words to rhyme with the love that joins us still.
It becomes very difficult to try to write when my only inspiration is thou, when thou art far more than the words that were ever invented.

You're it for me: the word that was ever written but that I'll be drawing at ease and will never finish writing. You are more to me, so much that would not fit in the oceans of the world, on the crusts of planets, on the wings of all butterflies. In the Portuguese version of this post I rhymed planets (planetas) with butterflies (borboletas) wihout intending to do so - probably inspired by you. I love you so so much, I was saying, that fits into two small bodies that are nothing and are life giving meaning to this union.

I could put a like on you, share a photo or a cliché, but I prefer to put a post in your life, with my own life.
It is not needed to make little Kitty eyes for you to know what goes in my soul. I prefer to pretend that I fall asleep in a corner near you, in your arms, close to me.
It was in that seat, that one, and not any other. Because that's the one that made sense, because only on that one was felt what I still feel for you, more and more each day.

Sent from my iHeart.

Inspired by: you

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Friday, 22 August 2014

A wellcome to all the witty wit minds out there

In this blog I'll try to mirror the one I keep from April 2014 in my native language (Portuguese). I named it (ri)POSTEI, which has a double meaning: 'ri' means laugh, 'postei' means posted and the two words together form a completely different one, 'ripostei', that means to talk back.

This is the kind of playing that I enjoy doing with words, applying and aligning then accordingly as I am writing. Usually they come up naturally, without any deep thinking. That's the magic of using words to form sentences and construct a text, that basically is nothing but to materialize your thoughts.

I consider myself a witty mind person that likes adding an extra wit to everything I do and think. So, a witty wit person is someone who is spirited and humourous, who likes to add some satire to his writing. My texts should not be taken too lightly or too seriously. Even when the subjects are deeply thought, I allways hope they will put a smile on my readers faces.

That's why I choose My Witty Wit for the title of this blog. I thank you in advance for coming back to read it. I am going to select some of the texts on (ri)POSTEI and will post then here, after translation.
I really hope you find them
amusing / bright / brilliant / crazy / diverting / droll / entertaining / epigrammatic / facetious / fanciful / gay / humorous / ingenious / intelligent / jocose / jocular / joshing / keen / lively / original / penetrating / piercing / piquant / quick-witted / ridiculous / scintillating / screaming / slapstick / sparkling / waggish / whimsical / ...

I look forward to your opinion. 


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