Paulo Seabra

This here is my one hundredth blog post. For someone more intense than me this might call for a celebration, but since I was never one for big celebrations, I instead celebrate with some time to reflect, time I might as well use somewhat productively by writing something down. So I write this, but just what is this really? In a way it's a cheat. Instead of writing a proper article as the special one hundredth I write just a little note, a reminder, a placeholder... But to be honest I'm a bit tired at this point, having gone through some busy months during which I still tried to be productive and managed to write all I had planned. But the reason for that is just a dumb OCD thing. When I started out this blog I wrote six articles in the first month, having then decided on that set number until the month of july when I managed to write ten. Sometime after I decided that on every third month I'd write only four so as to relax a bit, until I realized the next july was upon me, ...

Lester “Beetlejuice” Green is categorically one of the best comedians in the world, as far as I'm concerned he's right up there with Rodney Dangerfield and Norm Macdonald. And that's not a joke, I'm not a funny guy, unlike Beetlejuice. Once in a blue moon I like to think I manage to come up with a funny thing or two, sure, who doesn't? But Beetle is constantly firing on all cylinders, when he's on a roll he simply will not stop, even to point where you absolutely have to rewatch his little sets more than once to get the full extent of his comedy genius. The way his mind work is just fascinating, random to the point of being kinda surreal and all too impossible to predict. And if a proper joke is based on the element of surprise, then you simply can't ask for a better comedian. In all these things, Beetle is a master. He's way, way funnier than a ton of mainstream comedians who, though hard they try, they can't avoid being anything but generic, predic...

This is actually a little something I've been meaning to write for quite some time now, even before I started this blog, in fact. That is because many a-time I find myself thinking just who am I doing this for, just what is the darn purpose, the bleeding end goal of all this here work. I put in a lot of time and effort on the stuff I write, all of it, both the serious and the silly, even to the point of painstakingly going back to fix little issues that won't even be particularly noticeable to anyone but me, just a bunch of dumb ODC details, I guess. And yet in all those things I wanna say I've put in a whole lot of love too... What I'm trying to say is that, for once in my life I've started doing what I love, and though I get one or two kind words along the way, which do help more than people realize, my work is going mostly unnoticed. At this stage in the game I'd like a day of recognition to arrive, but if or when it does I need to prepare for many moments of...

Maybe you think something like 90210 should claim this lofty title, what with all its beautiful californian people going about their awesome lives, made so enviable from their vast mansions of perpetual summer, mansions that they only ever leave to go to even better places and meet fellow beautiful people to love and have crazy fun with at their private beaches, though their hearts so often and so completely break in what can only be described as the source of all misery in this world... If you did say 90210 you'd be making a fairly decent guess, and my own heart has belonged to Jessica Lowndes ever since I was a dumb fourteen year old kid catching random episodes of her show on TV. But some time afterwards I became a man, and so I sampled the first season of three very different shows – The Sopranos, The Wire, and Oz. And though the first two are the best shows ever made, in that order too, Oz is pretty cool too I guess, though it plays so fast and loose with its rules that i...

Para alívio de alguns, até mesmo para mim, este volume é o mais breve de todos, uma diferença que é aliás notável ao olhar para todos os volumes organizados na estante. De facto, algumas edições até unem este ao anterior, reduzindo a obra a seis volumes em vez de sete. Mas ainda assim, e mais uma vez, atrasei-me muito mais do que estava à espera... Deveria ter sido capaz de ler umas cinquenta páginas por dia, o que significa que deveria ter terminado este volume em cerca de cinco dias. Só que não sei, é-me fácil perder a noção do tempo, e parece-me forçoso deixar que seja o próprio Marcel Proust a determinar o ritmo da sua obra, tanto quando a lemos como quando a abdicamos momentaneamente. No entanto, e por muito interminável que a obra pareça, eventualmente acaba porque o tempo passa e termina com tudo, deixando-me agora perto de um final que me parece tão derradeiro apesar de não o ser. Quando terminar este artigo começarei a ler o sétimo e último volume, e terei terminado esta série...

Ler Fernando Pessoa tem obrigatoriamente de incluir o Livro do Desassossego. Isso foi algo que aprendi na reta final do meu ensino secundário, com uma professora cujo nome e cara já nem me recordo. Recordo-me apenas de que ela referiu este livro muito de passagem mas com muitos elogios. Uns meses depois pedi uma cópia dele como presente de natal, e então passei grande parte do meu ano sabático antes do início da universidade a lê-lo, um texto de cada vez, muitas vezes sentado na estação do metro à espera de amigos. E foi com este livro que decidi que queria ser escritor, por isso aqui estou eu, a tentar sê-lo. Eventualmente desfiz-me da minha cópia original simplesmente por uma questão de conveniência, porque deixei de ser sentimental para com as coisas, mas tendo relido uma segunda cópia uns anos mais tarde enchia-a também ela de sublinhados e apontamentos. Recentemente, ao folhear pelas páginas fui procurando por parágrafos com mais marcas, e como sempre acontece já não me lembrava ...