<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3335981760635801331</id><updated>2011-07-29T01:55:17.150-07:00</updated><category term='Arte'/><category term='Literatura'/><title type='text'>Os Cantos de Maldoror</title><subtitle type='html'>“Poesia/ Eu não te escrevo/ Eu te/ Vivo/ E viva nós!”. 
(Cacaso)</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://oscantosdemaldoror.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3335981760635801331/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://oscantosdemaldoror.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Juan Moravagine Carneiro</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06439487022551731660</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_oioqZ92zF30/StK29BBqEzI/AAAAAAAAACg/j4nYW_-_1SA/S220/images+(1).jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>6</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3335981760635801331.post-3212570806656474745</id><published>2010-02-23T16:33:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-02-23T16:33:57.981-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Infância destruída!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_oioqZ92zF30/S4RwP1p2uHI/AAAAAAAAAFU/6Fxjhcr7hFQ/s1600-h/mafalda_-_tv_-_quino.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_oioqZ92zF30/S4RwP1p2uHI/AAAAAAAAAFU/6Fxjhcr7hFQ/s320/mafalda_-_tv_-_quino.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Mafalda&lt;/b&gt;: Tira de história em quadrinhos do cartunista argentino Joaquín Lavado, o  &lt;b&gt;Quino&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"&gt;"Quando a criança vai ser alfabetizada, em torno dos 6-7 anos, já assistiu em média 7 mil horas de televisão em sua vida"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"&gt;(Lais Fontanelle)&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3335981760635801331-3212570806656474745?l=oscantosdemaldoror.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://oscantosdemaldoror.blogspot.com/feeds/3212570806656474745/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://oscantosdemaldoror.blogspot.com/2010/02/infancia-destruida.html#comment-form' title='4 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3335981760635801331/posts/default/3212570806656474745'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3335981760635801331/posts/default/3212570806656474745'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://oscantosdemaldoror.blogspot.com/2010/02/infancia-destruida.html' title='Infância destruída!'/><author><name>Juan Moravagine Carneiro</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06439487022551731660</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_oioqZ92zF30/StK29BBqEzI/AAAAAAAAACg/j4nYW_-_1SA/S220/images+(1).jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_oioqZ92zF30/S4RwP1p2uHI/AAAAAAAAAFU/6Fxjhcr7hFQ/s72-c/mafalda_-_tv_-_quino.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3335981760635801331.post-1260129957294445848</id><published>2010-01-21T07:32:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-21T07:32:30.320-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Sonho, Medo e Desespero em noites carregadas de  Desespero, Medos e Pesadelos!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_oioqZ92zF30/S1hvUcTSBBI/AAAAAAAAAE0/H6WrT1uglHw/s1600-h/trainspotting.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_oioqZ92zF30/S1hvUcTSBBI/AAAAAAAAAE0/H6WrT1uglHw/s320/trainspotting.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Cena do filme Trainspotting&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: #274e13; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="FontComun" style="color: #274e13; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;“...Desde  então me incomodam muito estas duas palavras:&lt;em&gt;correto&lt;/em&gt; e &lt;em&gt;sensato&lt;/em&gt;. São falsas e pedantes. Servem para ocultar e mentir. Tudo e incorreto e insensato. Toda historia, toda a vida, todas as épocas foram incorretas e insensatas. Nós mesmos. Cada um de nós, por natureza, é incorreto e insensato, só que nos reprimimos para voltar para o cercado como boas ovelhas, e aplicamos rédeas e mordaças em nós mesmos.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: #274e13; text-align: center;"&gt;                   &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="FontComun" style="color: #274e13; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; Levei essa vida dupla durante muito tempo:correto e sensato, no trabalho. Incorreto e insensato no cortiço com Miriam. Ainda não me sentia livre, mas já estava no rumo. A verdade é que não me interessa nada que seja linear, reto. Não me interessa coisa nenhuma que progrida limpidamente de um ponto a outro, e que se saiba perfeitamente que tal linha começou aqui e terminou ali!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: #274e13; text-align: center;"&gt;                   &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="FontComun" style="color: #274e13; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; Não.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: #274e13; text-align: center;"&gt;                   &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="FontComun" style="color: #274e13; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; Nunca se  deve pretender ser correto e sensato e levar uma vida linear e exata. A vida é  muito imprevisível.”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Trecho de Trilogia suja de Havana de Pedro Juan Gutiérrez&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_oioqZ92zF30/S1hwODk67VI/AAAAAAAAAE8/f4Qp401tdg0/s1600-h/ossonhadores.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_oioqZ92zF30/S1hwODk67VI/AAAAAAAAAE8/f4Qp401tdg0/s320/ossonhadores.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Cena do filme Os sonhadores&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: #274e13;"&gt;Os jornais quase não chegam à minha cela, e pilharam as melhores páginas de suas&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br style="color: #274e13;" /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #274e13;"&gt;flores mais belas, os cafetões, como jardins de maio ...e a lembrança que ponho a&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br style="color: #274e13;" /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #274e13;"&gt;pastar prazerosamente à noite é de você, que longe das minhas carícias permanece&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br style="color: #274e13;" /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #274e13;"&gt;inerte, estirado; sozinha, brandida e desembainhada, sua vara atravessa minha boca&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br style="color: #274e13;" /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #274e13;"&gt;com a repentina rispidez malvada de um campanário furando uma nuvem de tinta,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br style="color: #274e13;" /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #274e13;"&gt;um alfinete de chapéu a um seio. Você não se mexia, não dormia, não sonhava,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br style="color: #274e13;" /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #274e13;"&gt;estava em fuga, imóvel e pálido, regelado, reto, estendido teso sobre o leito&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br style="color: #274e13;" /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #274e13;"&gt;achatado como um caixão sobre o mar, e eu nos sabia castos, enquanto ficava&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br style="color: #274e13;" /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #274e13;"&gt;atento a sentir você despejar em mim, em pequenas sacudidas contínuas, o líquido&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br style="color: #274e13;" /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #274e13;"&gt;morno e branco.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;b style="color: black;"&gt;Trecho: (GENET, 1968, p. 68 em Nossa Senhora das Flores)&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3335981760635801331-1260129957294445848?l=oscantosdemaldoror.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://oscantosdemaldoror.blogspot.com/feeds/1260129957294445848/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://oscantosdemaldoror.blogspot.com/2010/01/sonho-medo-e-desespero-em-noites.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3335981760635801331/posts/default/1260129957294445848'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3335981760635801331/posts/default/1260129957294445848'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://oscantosdemaldoror.blogspot.com/2010/01/sonho-medo-e-desespero-em-noites.html' title='Sonho, Medo e Desespero em noites carregadas de  Desespero, Medos e Pesadelos!'/><author><name>Juan Moravagine Carneiro</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06439487022551731660</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_oioqZ92zF30/StK29BBqEzI/AAAAAAAAACg/j4nYW_-_1SA/S220/images+(1).jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_oioqZ92zF30/S1hvUcTSBBI/AAAAAAAAAE0/H6WrT1uglHw/s72-c/trainspotting.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3335981760635801331.post-4455633106951174541</id><published>2009-10-21T21:46:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-23T23:11:23.751-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A simplicidade de um sorriso é a dança com o infinito!</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 13px;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: #274e13;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;“...Os antigos conceitos de jubileu e bacanal se originaram a partir da intuição de que certos eventos&amp;nbsp; existem foram do “tempo profano”, a unidade de medida da História e do Estado. Essas ocasiões literalmente ocupavam espaços vazios no calendário...” (BEY, Hakim. Zona Autônoma Temporária, Ed. Conrad, São Paulo, pp. 24-25. 2º edição, 2001).&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;“...Liberto do tempo e do espaço, ele, no entanto, possui&amp;nbsp; bom faro para o amadurecimento dos eventos e afinidade com o genius loci...” Idem, p. 25.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_oioqZ92zF30/St_htNSyXII/AAAAAAAAAEI/jDZ7XfGj1fc/s1600-h/matisse.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_oioqZ92zF30/St_htNSyXII/AAAAAAAAAEI/jDZ7XfGj1fc/s320/matisse.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;b&gt;Pintura: Matisse&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;“...Lute pelo direito de festejar...Ela pode até ser planejada, mas se não acontece é um fracasso. A espontaneidade é crucial...” Idem, p. 26&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;“...— O mundo deles é lacrado. Ninguém pode entrar ou sair sem o consentimento dos seres inorgânicos. A única coisa que você pode fazer sozinho quanto está lá dentro é, claro,verbalizar seu intento de ficar. Dizê-lo em voz alta significa colocar em ação correntes irreversíveis de energia. Nos tempos antigos as palavras eram incrivelmente poderosas. Agora não são mais. No reino dos seres inorgânicos, por outro lado, elas não perderam o poder...” ( CASTANEDA, Carlos. A arte de sonhar, Ed. Nova era, Rio de Janeiro, pp. 197. 2º edição, 1994).&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/?v=6Opglbu1NTY"&gt;&lt;span style="color: #38761d;"&gt;A festa continua...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="color: #38761d;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3335981760635801331-4455633106951174541?l=oscantosdemaldoror.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://oscantosdemaldoror.blogspot.com/feeds/4455633106951174541/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://oscantosdemaldoror.blogspot.com/2009/10/simplicidade-de-um-sorriso-e-danca-com.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3335981760635801331/posts/default/4455633106951174541'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3335981760635801331/posts/default/4455633106951174541'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://oscantosdemaldoror.blogspot.com/2009/10/simplicidade-de-um-sorriso-e-danca-com.html' title='A simplicidade de um sorriso é a dança com o infinito!'/><author><name>Juan Moravagine Carneiro</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06439487022551731660</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_oioqZ92zF30/StK29BBqEzI/AAAAAAAAACg/j4nYW_-_1SA/S220/images+(1).jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_oioqZ92zF30/St_htNSyXII/AAAAAAAAAEI/jDZ7XfGj1fc/s72-c/matisse.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3335981760635801331.post-3989585115570210361</id><published>2009-10-20T20:27:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-20T20:27:50.099-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Não se esqueçam que um dia todos nós Morreremos!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;“...A revolução classifica o levante como um ”fracasso”. Mas, para nós, um levante representa uma possibilidade muito mais interessante, do ponto de vista de uma&amp;nbsp; psicologia de libertação, do que as “bem-sucedidas revoluções burguesas, comunistas, fascistas, etc...”. (BEY, Hakim. Zona Autônoma Temporária, Ed. Conrad, São Paulo, pp. 21. 2º edição, 2001).&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_oioqZ92zF30/St57wBtIYUI/AAAAAAAAAD4/qfXJBRkaRxw/s1600-h/saltimbancos.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_oioqZ92zF30/St57wBtIYUI/AAAAAAAAAD4/qfXJBRkaRxw/s320/saltimbancos.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Pintura:&amp;nbsp;&lt;b&gt;Os&amp;nbsp;saltimbancos, 1905 de Pablo Picasso&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;“...A familiar nuclear, com suas conseqüências ”dores edipianas”, parece ter sido uma invenção neolítica, uma resposta à “revolução agrícola” com usa escassez e hierarquia impostas. O modelo paleolítico é mais primário e mais radical: O &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;bando&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;. O típico bando nômade ou semi-nomade de caçadores-coletores é formado por cerca de cinqüenta pessoas...A&amp;nbsp; família nuclear é &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;fechada&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;, geneticamente, pela posse masculina sobre as mulheres e crianças, pela totalidade hierárquica as sociedade agrícola-industrial. Por outro lado o bando é aberto...O bando não pertence a uma hierarquia maior, ele é parte de um padrão horizontalizado de costumes, parentescos, contratos e alianças, afinidade espirituais etc. (A sociedade dos índios norte-americanos preserva até hoje certos aspectos&amp;nbsp; dessa estrutura”...). Idem, p.23.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;“...Muitas forças estão trabalhando – de forma invisível – para dissolver a família nuclear e resgatar o bando em nossa própria&amp;nbsp; sociedade da Simulação pós-Espetacular...” Idem, p. 24.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;“...O pior de tudo é que pessoas inteligentes e cultas vivem sua vida sem conhecerem a possibilidade de tais mudanças. Entram inteiramente despreparadas na segunda metade de suas vidas. Ou existem, porventura, universidades que preparem essas pessoas para sua vida futura e para suas exigências, da mesma forma como há universidades que introduzem os jovens no conhecimento do mundo e da vida? Não! Entramos totalmente despreparados na segunda metade da vida, e, pior do que isto, damos este passo, sob a falsa suposição de que nossas verdades e nossos ideais continuarão como dantes. Não podemos viver a tarde de nossa vida segundo o programa da manhã, porque aquilo que era muito na manhã, será pouco na tarde, e o que era verdadeiro na manhã, será falso no entardecer. Tratei um número muito grande de pessoas idosas e olhei para dentro da câmara secreta de suas almas para não mudar de idéia...” (JUNG, C.G. A Natureza da Psique, Ed. Vozes, 1971. Rio de Janeiro, p166.)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_oioqZ92zF30/St592XMmaOI/AAAAAAAAAEA/CbUBHUO0WZw/s1600-h/maccari.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_oioqZ92zF30/St592XMmaOI/AAAAAAAAAEA/CbUBHUO0WZw/s320/maccari.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Pintura: &lt;b&gt;Personaggi, 1960 de Mino Maccari.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3335981760635801331-3989585115570210361?l=oscantosdemaldoror.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='related' href='http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Lwl_CdjW3sw' title='Não se esqueçam que um dia todos nós Morreremos!'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://oscantosdemaldoror.blogspot.com/feeds/3989585115570210361/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://oscantosdemaldoror.blogspot.com/2009/10/nao-se-esquecam-que-um-dia-todos-nos.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3335981760635801331/posts/default/3989585115570210361'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3335981760635801331/posts/default/3989585115570210361'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://oscantosdemaldoror.blogspot.com/2009/10/nao-se-esquecam-que-um-dia-todos-nos.html' title='Não se esqueçam que um dia todos nós Morreremos!'/><author><name>Juan Moravagine Carneiro</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06439487022551731660</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_oioqZ92zF30/StK29BBqEzI/AAAAAAAAACg/j4nYW_-_1SA/S220/images+(1).jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_oioqZ92zF30/St57wBtIYUI/AAAAAAAAAD4/qfXJBRkaRxw/s72-c/saltimbancos.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3335981760635801331.post-3720086468651914401</id><published>2009-10-16T19:03:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-20T14:51:32.187-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Arte'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Literatura'/><title type='text'>O sol com frio se aquece com um papelão em um beco escuro...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;"Oh! Não Maldigam o mancebo exausto&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;Que no vício embalou, a rir, os sonhos..."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;Álvares&amp;nbsp;de Azevedo&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_oioqZ92zF30/Stkil3YX8PI/AAAAAAAAADo/YO4WYFCUJTw/s1600-h/346px-Edouard_Manet_001.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_oioqZ92zF30/Stkil3YX8PI/AAAAAAAAADo/YO4WYFCUJTw/s320/346px-Edouard_Manet_001.jpg" width="185" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;O bebedor de Absinto:&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;span style="line-height: 19px;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;Édouard Manet&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="line-height: 19px;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="line-height: 19px;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;"Eia! Bebamos!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small; line-height: 19px;"&gt;És o sangue do &amp;nbsp;gênio, o puro néctar&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small; line-height: 19px;"&gt;Que as almas do poeta&amp;nbsp;diviniza,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small; line-height: 19px;"&gt;O condão que abre o mundo das magias!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small; line-height: 19px;"&gt;Vem, fogoso &lt;i&gt;Cognac!&lt;/i&gt; É só contigo&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small; line-height: 19px;"&gt;Que sinto-me viver. Inda palpito,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small; line-height: 19px;"&gt;Quando os eflúvios dessas gotas &amp;nbsp;áureas&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small; line-height: 19px;"&gt;Filtram no sangue meu correndo a vida,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small; line-height: 19px;"&gt;Vibram-me os nervos e as artérias queimam&lt;br /&gt;Os meus olhos ardentes se escurecem&lt;br /&gt;E no cérebro passam delirosos&lt;br /&gt;Assomos de poesia..."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small; line-height: 19px;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Álvares&amp;nbsp;de Azevedo&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small; line-height: 19px;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_oioqZ92zF30/StkkTV24dNI/AAAAAAAAADw/t1EFxiFSULs/s1600-h/durero_melancol_a.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_oioqZ92zF30/StkkTV24dNI/AAAAAAAAADw/t1EFxiFSULs/s320/durero_melancol_a.jpg" width="240" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;A . Durero: La Melancolía&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3335981760635801331-3720086468651914401?l=oscantosdemaldoror.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://oscantosdemaldoror.blogspot.com/feeds/3720086468651914401/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://oscantosdemaldoror.blogspot.com/2009/10/o-sol-com-frio-se-aquece-com-um-papelao.html#comment-form' title='2 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3335981760635801331/posts/default/3720086468651914401'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3335981760635801331/posts/default/3720086468651914401'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://oscantosdemaldoror.blogspot.com/2009/10/o-sol-com-frio-se-aquece-com-um-papelao.html' title='O sol com frio se aquece com um papelão em um beco escuro...'/><author><name>Juan Moravagine Carneiro</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06439487022551731660</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_oioqZ92zF30/StK29BBqEzI/AAAAAAAAACg/j4nYW_-_1SA/S220/images+(1).jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_oioqZ92zF30/Stkil3YX8PI/AAAAAAAAADo/YO4WYFCUJTw/s72-c/346px-Edouard_Manet_001.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3335981760635801331.post-1813639158577224376</id><published>2009-10-11T22:39:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-13T15:59:37.917-07:00</updated><title type='text'>O SOL SE PÔS FURADO...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;"Outrora, se bem me lembro, minha vida era um festim onde se abriam todos os corações, onde corriam todos os vinhos.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Uma noite, sentei a Beleza em meus joelhos. — E encontrei-a amarga. — E insultei-a.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"&gt;&lt;span style="color:black;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Levantei-me em armas contra a justiça.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"&gt;&lt;span style="color:black;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Fugi. Ó bruxas, ó miséria, ó ódio, é a vós que meu tesouro foi confiado!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"&gt;&lt;span style="color:black;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Consegui extirpar de meu espírito toda esperança humana. Pulei sobre toda alegria, para estrangulá-la, com o salto silencioso da fera.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"&gt;&lt;span style="color:black;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Chamei os carrascos para, ao morrer, morder a coronha de seus fuzis. Chamei os flagelos para afogar-me com a areia, o sangue. A desgraça foi meu deus. Chafurdei na lama. Sequei-me ao ar do crime. E preguei boas peças à loucura.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"&gt;&lt;span style="color:black;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;E a primavera me trouxe o pavoroso riso do idiota.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"&gt;&lt;span style="color:black;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Recentemente, quando me encontrava nas últimas, pensei procurar a chave do antigo festim, onde talvez eu recobraria o apetite".&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:Tahoma;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:black;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="color:black;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span class="apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="color:black;"&gt;                                                             &lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;                 &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style=" ;color:black;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Rimbaud, Arthur:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="apple-converted-space"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style=" ;color:black;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style=" ;color:black;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Uma Temporada no Inferno&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=" ;color:black;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_oioqZ92zF30/StPt6Ng48zI/AAAAAAAAADA/UlKiwSg2uBM/s1600-h/rouault_blog+(1).jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 212px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_oioqZ92zF30/StPt6Ng48zI/AAAAAAAAADA/UlKiwSg2uBM/s320/rouault_blog+(1).jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5391914763208422194" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;Georges Rouault:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;O palhaço ferido &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;(c. 1933); tela, 2 x 1,20 m. Paris, Coleção particular.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="  color: rgb(222, 190, 158); font-family:'Times New Roman';font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="font-family:Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;p align="right" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="font-family:Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style=" ;font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'Times New Roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-weight: normal; font-size:-webkit-xxx-large;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="font-family:Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style=" ;font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'Times New Roman';"&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;line-height:150%"&gt;&lt;b&gt;"Pois bem, que assim seja! Que minha guerra contra o homem se eternize, já que cada um de nós reconhece no outro sua própria degradação... já que somos ambos inimigos mortais. Quer deva eu conseguir uma vitória desastrosa ou sucumbir, o combate será belo; eu, sozinho contra a humanidade".&lt;/b&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;line-height:150%"&gt;&lt;u1:p&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;b&gt; Lautréamont: Os cantos de &lt;/b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="line-height: normal; font-size:16px;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="line-height: 19px; font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/u1:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'Times New Roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; display: inline !important; "&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; display: inline !important; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="line-height: 19px; font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Maldoror&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'Times New Roman';"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"&gt;&lt;u1:p&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal; "&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/u1:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3335981760635801331-1813639158577224376?l=oscantosdemaldoror.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://oscantosdemaldoror.blogspot.com/feeds/1813639158577224376/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://oscantosdemaldoror.blogspot.com/2009/10/e-primavera-me-trouxe-o-pavoroso-riso.html#comment-form' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3335981760635801331/posts/default/1813639158577224376'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3335981760635801331/posts/default/1813639158577224376'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://oscantosdemaldoror.blogspot.com/2009/10/e-primavera-me-trouxe-o-pavoroso-riso.html' title='O SOL SE PÔS FURADO...'/><author><name>Juan Moravagine Carneiro</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06439487022551731660</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_oioqZ92zF30/StK29BBqEzI/AAAAAAAAACg/j4nYW_-_1SA/S220/images+(1).jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_oioqZ92zF30/StPt6Ng48zI/AAAAAAAAADA/UlKiwSg2uBM/s72-c/rouault_blog+(1).jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry></feed>
