O inevitável fracasso do partidarismo

…muito interessante, para ler…

Ideal Libertário

Por Lacombi Lauss

Com muito tempo no movimento libertário, nota-se em todo ano par o mesmo debate de sempre: partidarismo vs anti-política. Chega em um ponto que fica bastante cansativo repetir os mesmos argumentos e esclarecer posições no que diz respeito à rejeição das vias políticas. Mas em virtude desse ano o debate estar mais acalorado devido à publicação da versão tupiniquim de uma antítese do manifesto de Konkin, uma espécie de manifesto gradualista, vou abrir aqui uma pequena exceção. Trata-se de um debate importante, pois visa a influenciar como um libertário deve usar seu tempo extra no eterno combate ao estatismo. Eu pensei em dar uma resposta a esse manifesto, mas quando o li, vi que ele em momento algum tocou nos principais argumentos dos libertários puristas. Visto que não se responder um texto que não tem direção a seus argumentos, o melhor a se fazer é esclarecê-los. Bem…

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…o provincianismo português…

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…o provincianismo português é um fruto carnudo de cultura estrutural, tem uma casca exterior dura de direita mole antiquada, e sob ela, sua “filha”, uma segunda casca mais fina de esquerda dura «de vanguarda»…
…fruto?…
…nenhum…
…só um imenso caroço de mesquinhez azeda «traçada» de alegrias bouçais…

[P.S. (salvo-seja!) quanto à imagem: não só o bigode mais curto como uma «ligeira» “diferença” quanto ao numero de mortos que produziram, a saber mais ou menos vinte e dois milhões de mortos para o nazismo; e, cento e dez milhões de mortos para o marxismo-leninismo (por enquanto, que saldo ainda não terminou)… …em fim, mais milhão, menos milhão… …o que é que isso importa, não é?… …para mim foi óptimo tomar consciência destes números, de como foram produzidos, quem os produziu e com que fundamentos e metas a atingir… …curei-me logo de um mal terrível de que padecia… …a maldita “ideologia”, sub-produto nefasto da Filosofia… …livrei-me de imediato dela!… …estou agora muito melhor, obrigado…]

And it’s a long long long long drop From the rocks to the pearls, we got so lost We got so lost, we got so lost For so long, for so long, so long For so long, oh

…porque fala de estar perdido…

I’m flowing with the waters
I’m spinning into orbit
So won’t you come on home
And make it alright

I’m drifting in the same old boat
With a different crew
So won’t you come on home
And make it alright
Won’t you echo back
And make it fine

Maybe you’ll go out of your mind
You can lose it all if you wanna
Maybe you’ll go out of mine
It’s been so long

You can keep your own dear life
You can lose it all if you wanna
But I can’t keep you out of mine, oh no

We were dancing to a beat of our own
Flying with our speakers blown
Oh won’t you come on back
And make it alright

And if I take a turn for the worst
And I call you on the phone
Will you echo home when I call
Won’t you echo back and make it alright
Won’t you echo home and make me fine

Maybe you went out of your mind
You can lose it all if you wanna
Maybe you went out of mine
It’s been so long

You can live your own dear life
You can lose it all if you wanna
But I can’t let you out of mine, oh no

And it’s a long long long long drop
From the rocks to the pearls, we got so lost
We got so lost, we got so lost
For so long

And it’s a long long long long drop
From the rocks to the pearls, we got so lost
We got so lost, we got so lost
For so long, for so long, so long
For so long, oh

Maybe you went out of your mind
You can lose it all if you wanna
Maybe you went out of mine
It’s been so long

You can live your own dear life
And you can lose it all if you wanna
But I can’t let you out of mine, oh no

I’m flowing with the waters
I’m spinning into orbit
So won’t you come on home
And make it alright
So won’t you come on home
And make it fine

Oiçam isto (sim, sou fã)

Opeth – Moon Above, Sun Below

You are sleeping unhampered by guilt
Comes the morning you shut down
The devil’s breath is a disease on your lips
Reaching out for your loss
You prey on your flock

Seeking out the weaker hearts
With eternity in your grip
And on a lifelong throne of sub-religion
They will eat from your head

With the moon above and the sun below

I can’t remember the sun upon my skin
Slave to a sorrow that is whispering within
I’m always waiting for you before I sleep
There is no comfort in the distance that we keep

In a river of grief I am drowning
And your grip is surrounding my heart
Balancing on the edge of failure
And relieved, should I fall
Scattered dust upon my eyes
A winding road taking you nowhere
A winding road taking me home
And my home is my grave

Waiting for a day when there is nothing left to say

Voices of despair is a familiar friendship
A society in your head holds the code to destruction

Dying fast
Summer dying fast
And this can’t last, as nothing ever lasts
In a forest of flesh
There is a need to sever myself away from happiness

Still no drifting sun
Black upon the earth
Still the air is dry
And the locust wait

There is no help in the wake of our needs
There is no help to dispel the pain
There is no help yet some cling to a phantom
There is no help, only circles on the water

Only circles on the water

…But when the waves come, you face them And you know we can’t stop it now…

…é assim um pouco…
…encarar, sorrir e não ceder até que a morte nos dê aquele estalo na cara com voz de patrão que despede sem piedade nem segundas chances…
…encaixa o estalo, e de seguida, cospe-lhe na cara o despeito que lhe dedicas e sentes e que te pesa,
cospe-lhe na cara a negritude que te afunda, e o desejo de Sol que te eleva até ao espaço onde não há ar…
…a delícia de lhe poder dizer na cara com ar de gozo aquela célebre frase absurda de bandoleiro encurralado:

«You will never catch me alive, pig!!!»…

…tudo tão inútil…
…e no entanto tão hipnóticamente vertiginoso…

Doing It To Death [Lyrics, song from The Kills]

Baby save it, we’re wasted
I know we gotta slow it down
But when the waves come, you face them
And you know we can’t stop it now

Heads up we’re in a dead club
Put your hands up and do your dipsy and dropsy
And line up, we’re hanging up
We’re double sixing it, night after night
Doing it to death

Baby lately the plans we’re making
Are the shape of things that never come
Hold your horses, the lights up
Can’t feel it coming back around

Listen up, it’s picking up
Put your hands up and do your kicksy and lipsy
Your times up, we’re hanging up
We’re double sixing it, night cause tonight
We’re doing it to death

We’re double sixing it night after night after night
We’re double sixing it night after night after night
We’re double sixing it night after night after night

Doing it to death

…porque um amor antigo, no fundo, nunca morre…

…apaixonei-me por esta trova psicadélica deles, há muitos anos atrás, (a sua relação com o esoterismo está patente e pulsante para quem conhece o simbolismo do Tarot), muitas memórias… …muitas memórias…
Lyrics:
Lady With A Fan”

Let my inspiration flow
in token lines suggesting rhythm
that will not forsake me
till my tale is told and done

While the firelight’s aglow
strange shadows in the flames will grow
till things we’ve never seen
will seem familiar

Shadows of a sailor forming
winds both foul and fair all swarm
down in Carlisle he loved a lady
many years ago

Here beside him stands a man
a soldier by the looks of him
who came through many fights
but lost at love

While the storyteller speaks
a door within the fire creaks
suddenly flies open
and a girl is standing there

Eyes alight with glowing hair
all that fancy paints as fair
she takes her fan and throws it
in the lion’s den

“Which of you to gain me, tell
will risk uncertain pains of Hell?
I will not forgive you
if you will not take the chance”

The sailor gave at least a try
the soldier being much too wise
strategy was his strength
and not disaster

The sailor coming out again
the lady fairly lept at him
that’s how it stands today
you decide if he was wise

The storyteller makes no choice
soon you will not hear his voice
his job is to shed light
and not to master

Since the end is never told
we pay the teller off in gold
in hopes he will come back
but he cannot be bought or sold