...
Ele me desejou tempestades e trovoadas, felizes.
Para Ela, comentei isso que eu li e tanto gostei,
(2011 será diferente, talvez longe, para mim.)
e a moça caminhou para o Recife,
desejando-me ventanias e calmarias,
ambas, felizes - para enfatizar a sua doçura.
(Meio que despedidas... estou ouvindo Strauss:
lágrimas, pela partida, também pela chegada...)
Para você também. Joyeux Noël, mon chou.
Era a noite do Eclipse, rebordoso, contrafluxo, etcetera, babado.
Para Wien, onde não adormeci, de onde jamais retornei.
Se houver algo que possa fazer,
diga-me rápido...
Ouvindo o correr azul do Danúbio,
e é dentro de mim que vibra...
Herr Doktor Mauro sinalizou,
fez-se a escolha de uma cidade como minha.
Antes dos Solstício de Verão, no lado de lá...
Talvez, depois das chuvas de São José, para cá.
Deleuze gostaria de ouvir que desacelerar não é tão empolgante.
Re-movo-me na Arte, ou da Ciência, para a Filosofia...
Mover-se novamente, um tipo de retirar-se concomitante...
Com baton de travesti: Re-Movo-Me, de-novo-&-para-o-fora?
...
“—Não é que haja muita coisa para aprender – disse Max. – A coisa está mais próxima do não aprendizado, do esquecimento, se você preferir. Isso é muito mais difícil. É preciso desistir da intuição. É preciso aceitar o que parece impossível (...) – E quando voltarmos, como diz você, poderemos discutir sobre a não existência do tempo” (A GAROTA EINSTEIN, Philip Sington: pp. 76-77)
sexta-feira, 24 de dezembro de 2010
quinta-feira, 23 de dezembro de 2010
Poesia
"Qualquer um que não viva em poesia não pode sobreviver aqui na terra"
Halldór Laxness (Escritor islandês)
Halldór Laxness (Escritor islandês)
terça-feira, 21 de dezembro de 2010
Univ.
http://www.guardian.co.uk/commentisfree/2010/dec/17/death-universities-malaise-tuition-fees?INTCMP=SRCH
The death of universities
Terry Eagleton
Academia has become a servant of the status quo. Its malaise runs so much deeper than tuition fees
Are the humanities about to disappear from our universities? The question is absurd. It would be like asking whether alcohol is about to disappear from pubs, or egoism from Hollywood. Just as there cannot be a pub without alcohol, so there cannot be a university without the humanities. If history, philosophy and so on vanish from academic life, what they leave in their wake may be a technical training facility or corporate research institute. But it will not be a university in the classical sense of the term, and it would be deceptive to call it one.
Neither, however, can there be a university in the full sense of the word when the humanities exist in isolation from other disciplines. The quickest way of devaluing these subjects – short of disposing of them altogether – is to reduce them to an agreeable bonus. Real men study law and engineering, while ideas and values are for sissies. The humanities should constitute the core of any university worth the name. The study of history and philosophy, accompanied by some acquaintance with art and literature, should be for lawyers and engineers as well as for those who study in arts faculties. If the humanities are not under such dire threat in the United States, it is, among other things, because they are seen as being an integral part of higher education as such.
When they first emerged in their present shape around the turn of the 18th century, the so-called humane disciplines had a crucial social role. It was to foster and protect the kind of values for which a philistine social order had precious little time. The modern humanities and industrial capitalism were more or less twinned at birth. To preserve a set of values and ideas under siege, you needed among other things institutions known as universities set somewhat apart from everyday social life. This remoteness meant that humane study could be lamentably ineffectual. But it also allowed the humanities to launch a critique of conventional wisdom.
From time to time, as in the late 1960s and in these last few weeks in Britain, that critique would take to the streets, confronting how we actually live with how we might live.
What we have witnessed in our own time is the death of universities as centres of critique. Since Margaret Thatcher, the role of academia has been to service the status quo, not challenge it in the name of justice, tradition, imagination, human welfare, the free play of the mind or alternative visions of the future. We will not change this simply by increasing state funding of the humanities as opposed to slashing it to nothing. We will change it by insisting that a critical reflection on human values and principles should be central to everything that goes on in universities, not just to the study of Rembrandt or Rimbaud.
In the end, the humanities can only be defended by stressing how indispensable they are; and this means insisting on their vital role in the whole business of academic learning, rather than protesting that, like some poor relation, they don't cost much to be housed.
How can this be achieved in practice? Financially speaking, it can't be. Governments are intent on shrinking the humanities, not expanding them.
Might not too much investment in teaching Shelley mean falling behind our economic competitors? But there is no university without humane inquiry, which means that universities and advanced capitalism are fundamentally incompatible. And the political implications of that run far deeper than the question of student fees.
The death of universities
Terry Eagleton
Academia has become a servant of the status quo. Its malaise runs so much deeper than tuition fees
Are the humanities about to disappear from our universities? The question is absurd. It would be like asking whether alcohol is about to disappear from pubs, or egoism from Hollywood. Just as there cannot be a pub without alcohol, so there cannot be a university without the humanities. If history, philosophy and so on vanish from academic life, what they leave in their wake may be a technical training facility or corporate research institute. But it will not be a university in the classical sense of the term, and it would be deceptive to call it one.
Neither, however, can there be a university in the full sense of the word when the humanities exist in isolation from other disciplines. The quickest way of devaluing these subjects – short of disposing of them altogether – is to reduce them to an agreeable bonus. Real men study law and engineering, while ideas and values are for sissies. The humanities should constitute the core of any university worth the name. The study of history and philosophy, accompanied by some acquaintance with art and literature, should be for lawyers and engineers as well as for those who study in arts faculties. If the humanities are not under such dire threat in the United States, it is, among other things, because they are seen as being an integral part of higher education as such.
When they first emerged in their present shape around the turn of the 18th century, the so-called humane disciplines had a crucial social role. It was to foster and protect the kind of values for which a philistine social order had precious little time. The modern humanities and industrial capitalism were more or less twinned at birth. To preserve a set of values and ideas under siege, you needed among other things institutions known as universities set somewhat apart from everyday social life. This remoteness meant that humane study could be lamentably ineffectual. But it also allowed the humanities to launch a critique of conventional wisdom.
From time to time, as in the late 1960s and in these last few weeks in Britain, that critique would take to the streets, confronting how we actually live with how we might live.
What we have witnessed in our own time is the death of universities as centres of critique. Since Margaret Thatcher, the role of academia has been to service the status quo, not challenge it in the name of justice, tradition, imagination, human welfare, the free play of the mind or alternative visions of the future. We will not change this simply by increasing state funding of the humanities as opposed to slashing it to nothing. We will change it by insisting that a critical reflection on human values and principles should be central to everything that goes on in universities, not just to the study of Rembrandt or Rimbaud.
In the end, the humanities can only be defended by stressing how indispensable they are; and this means insisting on their vital role in the whole business of academic learning, rather than protesting that, like some poor relation, they don't cost much to be housed.
How can this be achieved in practice? Financially speaking, it can't be. Governments are intent on shrinking the humanities, not expanding them.
Might not too much investment in teaching Shelley mean falling behind our economic competitors? But there is no university without humane inquiry, which means that universities and advanced capitalism are fundamentally incompatible. And the political implications of that run far deeper than the question of student fees.
quarta-feira, 15 de dezembro de 2010
Rumançus
“Creio que o romance foi sempre um testemunho rebelde, de insubmissão. Em todas as épocas, os romances flagraram nossas carências, tudo aquilo que a realidade não nos pode dar e que de alguma maneira desejamos. Começamos a inventar porque o mundo não nos parece suficiente. O romance se situa justamente nesta compensação que o ser humano busca quando entende que a realidade não o satisfaz completamente. Por esse motivo, o romance causou sempre desconfiança nos governos, nas instituições que aspiram controlar a vida. As religiões e os regimes autoritários nunca foram simpáticos ao romance. E penso que têm razão: o romance é mesmo um gênero perigoso, porque provoca a imaginação, os desejos, e nos faz sentir que a vida não é o bastante, que ela não consegue aplacar todos os nossos apetites e sonhos. O romance tem a ver com esse espírito rebelde. A invenção de outro mundo, de outra realidade, onde podemos nos refugiar e viver. Escapar através da fantasia. Acredito que essa é a origem de toda ficção.”
Mario Vargas Llosa, Prêmio Nobel de Literatura
* Entrevista para o jornalista Emilio Fraia, disponível em: http://editora.cosacnaify.com.br/blog/?tag=mario-vargas-llosa
Mario Vargas Llosa, Prêmio Nobel de Literatura
* Entrevista para o jornalista Emilio Fraia, disponível em: http://editora.cosacnaify.com.br/blog/?tag=mario-vargas-llosa
quarta-feira, 8 de dezembro de 2010
Poetry
"as amendôas pavimentam os azulejos tardios que, apenas depois, ao sair do ofurô, ele iria percorrer/ a leveza daquela roupa inexiste, que flutua como lençol macio, e os abraços dela que, tão simples, acobertam minha... saudade/ a isso tudo, saúdo com ´boa-noite´, digo, amorosamente - e já não consigo ter fé em mim/ envolto no cheiro dessa mulher, que vai se tornando louça nos meus varais/ aqui, encontro certa paz de um sonho que não cabe em noites de sexo tórrido/ só preciso desse espectro que, certamente, não é o dela./ -- ´porcelana nos braços dele, e não há paixão e beleza nos olhos de... mais ninguém´, repito, respiro, insegura de mim mesma/ Repito, convencida, enquanto durmo, embriagada/ Não é por ele/ Fini. Com ele."
(Poema Maracaba,
A.F. § 8-XII-2010)
(Poema Maracaba,
A.F. § 8-XII-2010)
Assinar:
Postagens (Atom)
