Special effects have entered a Mannerist phase; what he means is that painters in the 1500s got so proficient at reproducing scenes from real life, they eventually became bored, which spurred experimentation. What resulted was a highly exaggerated, distorted form of art.
Bush é um idiota. Cheney é quem manda. O resto é só decoração. A percepção popular do governo americano não é muito distante da verdade, segundo um ex-integrante.
Depois de anos empoeirando na prateleira, comecei a ler Naked Lunch, livro escrito por William S. Burroughs entre uma dose e outra de heroína. Livro muito estranho, cheio de metáforas para a degradação dos homens pelo vício e outras necessidades. Às vezes as cenas de abusos homossexuais enchem o saco - assim como "ejaculate" voando pelas páginas - mas as desconexão das histórias e as imahens estranhas e poderosas valem o esforço.
Continuando com os textos mau humorados pouco jornalísticos e pobres em argumentos, Warren Ellis tagarela contra os hippies que se opõem aos alimentos geneticamente modificados.
If Franco Moretti had his way, literature scholars would stop reading books and start counting, graphing and mapping them instead. For an English professor, this is an ambition verging on apostasy. But Mr. Moretti, a professor of English and comparative literature at Stanford and director of the university's center for the study of the novel, insists that such a move could bring new luster to a tired field, one that in some respects, he says, is among "the most backwards disciplines in the academy."
Moleque burro, entrei num sebo hoje. Com pouco dinheiro no bolso, por sorte. Mas acabei arrastando para casa uma cópia de Curso de Lingüística Geral, clássico escrito por Ferdinand de Saussure. Provavelmente vai ficar na pilha por um tempão, mas não consegui resistir.
I awoke on Friday and because the universe is expanding it took me longer than usual to find my robe. This made me late leaving for work and, because the concept of up and down is relative, the elevator that I got into went to the roof, where it was very difficult to hail a taxi.
My topic today sounds humorous but unfortunately I am serious. I am going to argue that extraterrestrials lie behind global warming. Or to speak more precisely, I will argue that a belief in extraterrestrials has paved the way, in a progression of steps, to a belief in global warming. Charting this progression of belief will be my task today.
Craphound had wicked yard-sale karma, for a rotten, filthy alien bastard. He was too good at panning out the single grain of gold in a raging river of uselessness for me not to like him -- respect him, anyway. But then he found the cowboy trunk. It was two months' rent to me and nothing but some squirrelly alien kitsch-fetish to Craphound.
Write six pages per day, six days a week.
It's a schedule I can never keep to, but at least it's an ambition. It's the only way to focus around all the idiotic boobytraps in a freelancer's life – the constantly haggling with both debtors and creditors, the incessant distractions, the lapses of confidence, etc. – and focus on just getting the damn job done. Because that's what it is. Even when working's a near- mystical experience, you still have to approach it as a job, and approaching it as a job can get you through those desolate moments when inspiration is little more than a distant tease of a memory.