Growing up means facing the inevitability of watching the generations that came before us come to an end. It means losing, one by one, people who we once thought of as unbreakable, untouchable, eternal. Still, regardless of whether a natural order is followed, the human condition is one of experiencing a bittersweet sensation:
We gain as we age, we lose as we age.
But this is not necessarily in reference to losing someone close. Sometimes, the death of one is the sorrow of millions. Today, this sorrow translates to the passing of one of Hollywood's legends:
Paul Newman is gone.
I feel just that much older.
sábado, setembro 27, 2008
quarta-feira, setembro 24, 2008
National Geographic Strikes Again!
The New York skyline. Pretty much unmistakable, wouldn´t you agree?
From across the Hudson River, we see the Big Apple spreading out along the horizon with its beautiful, modern architecture. Immense and awesome structures rise almost as if straight out of the water, composing this world-famous man-made topography. Breathtaking, isn´t it?
Now, if you take a closer look, you'll notice that the overall shape of this skyline is something like a "hill", or a "camel hump", if you will, with downtown Manhattan and its formidable edifices ascending high over the rest of the city.
Ever ask yourself why that is?
Let´s see... Well, that´s where the money is, right? I mean, if you're going to build a city with the fame and wealth of New York, some part of it needs to stand out above the rest.
No. Not quite.
Well, then... Maybe those genius architects decided to concentrate their best work in one specific part of town.
Wrong again.
Then, it has to be coincidence!
Nope, that´s not it either!
The answer? Glaciers!
More than 8,000 years ago, the world was going through its last ice age and the North American continent was almost completely under a thick sheet of ice. How thick? Well, what we know today as New York City was, back then, under one mile of it!
Fast-forward a few hundred years. The ice age is coming to an end. The glaciers are receding.
Now, imagine a mile-high layer of ice being slowly and incessantly dragged along the surface of the continent. It's going to cause some damage, right? In fact, it will shred and carve the bedrock like the proverbial hot knife through butter. But due to the characteristics of both the bedrock and the glacial recession above it, this wearing and tearing was less severe in downtown Manhattan. Elsewhere (to the right and to the left of the picture), huge valley-like grooves were created.
Over time and with the help of wind, water and ice, those grooves were slowly filled with the resulting rock sediment, levelling once again the earth in that region.
So far, so good. But what does that have to do with the height of those buildings?
Here's the explanation:
As strong and stable as that new, compacted sediment may be, it is not as solid and not as capable of withstanding the weight that the bedrock can hold. And when it comes to architecture, a firm foundation is key. The strength and resistance of this foundation is what allows for taller, and therefore heavier, buildings.
Cool, huh?!
Now, if you take a closer look, you'll notice that the overall shape of this skyline is something like a "hill", or a "camel hump", if you will, with downtown Manhattan and its formidable edifices ascending high over the rest of the city.
Ever ask yourself why that is?
Let´s see... Well, that´s where the money is, right? I mean, if you're going to build a city with the fame and wealth of New York, some part of it needs to stand out above the rest.
No. Not quite.
Well, then... Maybe those genius architects decided to concentrate their best work in one specific part of town.
Wrong again.
Then, it has to be coincidence!
Nope, that´s not it either!
The answer? Glaciers!
More than 8,000 years ago, the world was going through its last ice age and the North American continent was almost completely under a thick sheet of ice. How thick? Well, what we know today as New York City was, back then, under one mile of it!
Fast-forward a few hundred years. The ice age is coming to an end. The glaciers are receding.
Now, imagine a mile-high layer of ice being slowly and incessantly dragged along the surface of the continent. It's going to cause some damage, right? In fact, it will shred and carve the bedrock like the proverbial hot knife through butter. But due to the characteristics of both the bedrock and the glacial recession above it, this wearing and tearing was less severe in downtown Manhattan. Elsewhere (to the right and to the left of the picture), huge valley-like grooves were created.
Over time and with the help of wind, water and ice, those grooves were slowly filled with the resulting rock sediment, levelling once again the earth in that region.
So far, so good. But what does that have to do with the height of those buildings?
Here's the explanation:
As strong and stable as that new, compacted sediment may be, it is not as solid and not as capable of withstanding the weight that the bedrock can hold. And when it comes to architecture, a firm foundation is key. The strength and resistance of this foundation is what allows for taller, and therefore heavier, buildings.
Cool, huh?!
segunda-feira, setembro 15, 2008
The Great Gig In The Sky
I've had, for my life, the dream of seeing Pink Floyd live and in its most formidable incarnation, with Roger Waters, David Gilmour, Richard Wright and Nick Mason on stage. This dream was not meant to be.
Richard Wright passed away this morning at the age of 65.
We lose a phenomenal musician, one of those select few whose brilliance redirected music and influenced generations.
Thank you, sir. Shine on.
quinta-feira, setembro 11, 2008
December 21st, 2012
I was watching what seemed to be a harmless documentary about prophecies on the National Geographic Channel today and it centered on the date you see in the title. Turns out that the documentary was not so harmless - as a matter of fact, it kind of impressed me! Have you seen this? "Google" this date and grab on to your seat. Apparently, the news aren´t so good.
You've heard all the prophecies about the fires of hell and rise of the oceans and famines and plagues... Nostradamus and the likes have all said that the earth would come to a tragic and apocalyptic end. But whether or not the world "should have" ended some 56 times by now, the fact is that I'm still here talking to you. We can sleep soundly, agree?
Well, this is where things get interesting:
The Ancient Mayan Calendar was and is one of man's greatest creations, still as accurate as our own computerized calendars today. It has 12/21/12 as its last day, when a cataclysm, the end of time, is predicted. So what, right?
What if I told you this same message appeared almost five millenia before that, and a few thousand miles away, in the chinese I Ching? The "Book of Changes", as it is also known, has been widely regarded as a sort of oracle. Believe it or not, it was written in a pattern that, when shown mathematically, comes to an abrupt stop on one specific date: 12/21/12. Strange, wouldn´t you say? You're still not impressed?
Merlin (yes, the medieval sorcerer) was not only real but also a prophet. Yes, you guessed it. More?
The native-american Hopi indians, who, by the way, have a rather impressive prophecy track record, have december 21, 2012 as their (and our) last day on earth.
Even the Holy Bible gets into this mess, saying that 2012 is the year of a new holocaust.
Ok, maybe you see prophecies as pure nonsense. Will science suffice?
This day, which corresponds to the summer/winter solstice, has a bit of a cosmic event in store for us. For the first time in 25,800 years, the earth, sun and moon will be perfectly aligned with the colossal black hole in the center of our galaxy, raising in the minds of some the question as to whether the earth's gravity and its magnetic stability will suffer.
Coincidentally or not, the earth's magnetic field periodically inverts itself, turning north to south and vice-versa, causing a "planetary migraine" (basically, all hell breaks loose for a while until things settle down again). Not only are we due for one of these but there are already minute signs that a shift is in progress.
Still, does this mean that we can expect some kind of spasm in our solar system? I'm not too worried about it. Seems a bit far-fetched to me. Who knows, maybe the show I watched was a little bit sensationalist (and I, a little naive!) and it was looking for fire where there was no smoke. TV ratings, you know how it is... In any case, a lot of anthropologists and scholars say that much of the information obtained from the works of these civilizations has been misinterpreted.
I'm not too sure. Who knows what is and what isn´t possible! What if?
The answer to that question is:
December 22nd, 2012.
You've heard all the prophecies about the fires of hell and rise of the oceans and famines and plagues... Nostradamus and the likes have all said that the earth would come to a tragic and apocalyptic end. But whether or not the world "should have" ended some 56 times by now, the fact is that I'm still here talking to you. We can sleep soundly, agree?
Well, this is where things get interesting:
The Ancient Mayan Calendar was and is one of man's greatest creations, still as accurate as our own computerized calendars today. It has 12/21/12 as its last day, when a cataclysm, the end of time, is predicted. So what, right?
What if I told you this same message appeared almost five millenia before that, and a few thousand miles away, in the chinese I Ching? The "Book of Changes", as it is also known, has been widely regarded as a sort of oracle. Believe it or not, it was written in a pattern that, when shown mathematically, comes to an abrupt stop on one specific date: 12/21/12. Strange, wouldn´t you say? You're still not impressed?
Merlin (yes, the medieval sorcerer) was not only real but also a prophet. Yes, you guessed it. More?
The native-american Hopi indians, who, by the way, have a rather impressive prophecy track record, have december 21, 2012 as their (and our) last day on earth.
Even the Holy Bible gets into this mess, saying that 2012 is the year of a new holocaust.
Ok, maybe you see prophecies as pure nonsense. Will science suffice?
This day, which corresponds to the summer/winter solstice, has a bit of a cosmic event in store for us. For the first time in 25,800 years, the earth, sun and moon will be perfectly aligned with the colossal black hole in the center of our galaxy, raising in the minds of some the question as to whether the earth's gravity and its magnetic stability will suffer.
Coincidentally or not, the earth's magnetic field periodically inverts itself, turning north to south and vice-versa, causing a "planetary migraine" (basically, all hell breaks loose for a while until things settle down again). Not only are we due for one of these but there are already minute signs that a shift is in progress.
Still, does this mean that we can expect some kind of spasm in our solar system? I'm not too worried about it. Seems a bit far-fetched to me. Who knows, maybe the show I watched was a little bit sensationalist (and I, a little naive!) and it was looking for fire where there was no smoke. TV ratings, you know how it is... In any case, a lot of anthropologists and scholars say that much of the information obtained from the works of these civilizations has been misinterpreted.
I'm not too sure. Who knows what is and what isn´t possible! What if?
The answer to that question is:
December 22nd, 2012.
quarta-feira, setembro 10, 2008
Cigarras
Todo santo dia, vovó Lucilla despencava do Jardim Botânico a São Conrado para cuidar do netinho enquanto meus pais trabalhavam, chegando sempre com um chocolate na bolsa para esticar ainda mais o sorriso deste menino, e por tabela, o dela também.
Era uma tarde inteira de brincadeiras, de histórias, de passeios, de piadas (aliás, ela tinha o dom de me fazer rir). Se tivesse que rolar no chão comigo, aquela senhora, sessenta anos mais velha que eu, sequer pestanejava. Jogar futebol com o neto? Corria atrás da bola quase tanto quanto eu! Tocava piano maravilhosamente bem e tinha toda a paciência do mundo quando eu insistia que ela me colocasse no seu colo para tocarmos o “bife”, duzentas vezes seguidas, terminando todas de forma acelerada e às gargalhadas.
Era uma relação que só posso descrever como “simbiótica”. Acho que nós éramos a alegria um do outro.
Hoje faz 21 anos que vovó Lucilla se foi.
Pois é... São tantas as lembranças. Mas de todas essas contidas neste meu arquivo feliz, uma bastante curiosa sobressai.
Nas tardes de verão, sentávamos na varanda da casa dela, em frente ao Parque Lage, para escutar as cigarras sibilando. Jamais me esqueci disso.
Cigarras...
Obrigado, vovó Lucilla. Que saudade de você.
Era uma tarde inteira de brincadeiras, de histórias, de passeios, de piadas (aliás, ela tinha o dom de me fazer rir). Se tivesse que rolar no chão comigo, aquela senhora, sessenta anos mais velha que eu, sequer pestanejava. Jogar futebol com o neto? Corria atrás da bola quase tanto quanto eu! Tocava piano maravilhosamente bem e tinha toda a paciência do mundo quando eu insistia que ela me colocasse no seu colo para tocarmos o “bife”, duzentas vezes seguidas, terminando todas de forma acelerada e às gargalhadas.
Era uma relação que só posso descrever como “simbiótica”. Acho que nós éramos a alegria um do outro.
Hoje faz 21 anos que vovó Lucilla se foi.
Pois é... São tantas as lembranças. Mas de todas essas contidas neste meu arquivo feliz, uma bastante curiosa sobressai.
Nas tardes de verão, sentávamos na varanda da casa dela, em frente ao Parque Lage, para escutar as cigarras sibilando. Jamais me esqueci disso.
Cigarras...
Obrigado, vovó Lucilla. Que saudade de você.
For Sale
I was fussing around with Google Images last night when I came across quite a surprise.
The images of New England on the screen prompted me to one of those crazy and usually fruitless internet searches. I typed in "Deepwood Rd." (for eight years, my address in Easton, Connecticut), with hardly a hope of seeing anything remotely interesting. Never did I expect to see what I saw:
The very first image available was that of my old house. Sure, it looked a little different, eleven years of details added and details removed. It looked a little older (or is it my eyes that see a little older?). It looked a little less "mine". But it still looked great and it still looked like home.
The owner, however, was making the same mistake that, had it been in my power, I would have avoided at all costs back then. He had put it up FOR SALE.
I'm quite aware that we should not define ourselves by our possessions and that life is in constant metamorphosis, constant increment. But this house is different. It owned me from 1989 to 1997 and it still has claim to some of the best memories in my life.
Isn´t it curious how we can put a price on memories?
The images of New England on the screen prompted me to one of those crazy and usually fruitless internet searches. I typed in "Deepwood Rd." (for eight years, my address in Easton, Connecticut), with hardly a hope of seeing anything remotely interesting. Never did I expect to see what I saw:
The very first image available was that of my old house. Sure, it looked a little different, eleven years of details added and details removed. It looked a little older (or is it my eyes that see a little older?). It looked a little less "mine". But it still looked great and it still looked like home.
The owner, however, was making the same mistake that, had it been in my power, I would have avoided at all costs back then. He had put it up FOR SALE.
I'm quite aware that we should not define ourselves by our possessions and that life is in constant metamorphosis, constant increment. But this house is different. It owned me from 1989 to 1997 and it still has claim to some of the best memories in my life.
Isn´t it curious how we can put a price on memories?
quarta-feira, abril 16, 2008
domingo, fevereiro 03, 2008
Livro da Vida
Foi como se abrisse o livro da vida, mas numa página anterior à entrada de meu personagem na história, e eu me inserisse no palco de um dos episódios mais bonitos do que viria a ser minha família.Meu pai e minha mãe, pouco após se casarem e antes de minha "invenção", moraram por cerca de dois anos em Salvador da Bahia, cidade com talvez a mais singular alma brasileira. 1972 e 1973 foram temperados à baiana. Eu viria, já no Rio de Janeiro, em 1976.
Cresci escutando as mais diversas histórias do que era a vida soteropolitana deles: O acarajé na praia já feito de cor para seus paladares pela baiana de plantão no Forte da Barra; os finais de semana de pegar o carro e ir para alguma praia deserta paradisíaca e não encontrar mais ninguém na areia; meu pai e a pimenta preta; os pescadores puxando, ao pôr do sol, a rede do mar ao rítmo de cânticos afros, além de outros. E um personagem coadjuvante chamado Manolo...
Manolo, chileno figuraça e amicíssimo de meus pais, que descia até Rua Barão de Loreto 12 após sua volta de ônibus do trabalho e fazia, religiosamente, sua visitinha a meus pais para uma dose de whisky e um bom papo. Manolo que eu até cheguei a conhecer antes que ele se foi.
Essas e outras histórias foram contadas a mim repetidamente durante a vida e imagino que eu tenha ficado tão impressionado aos 10 quanto aos 31. Sempre foi bom saber o quanto eles tinham sido felizes lá. De alguma forma, me sinto como se todo esse amor que tenho por o que éramos nós três, eu, meu pai e minha mãe, teve sua semente plantada naquele lugar.
E ali estava eu, numa quarta-feira qualquer, em frente ao Edifício Ambassador na Barão de Loreto, olhando para aquele prédio, para aquela calçada, para aquela encosta atrás do prédio, para o hall de entrada de pilotis e longo corredor. Estava ao celular, falando com minha mãe em Pensacola, Florida, e começamos a lembrar, exatamente como antes, as histórias de lá. Não demorou muito, a garganta fechou e os olhos embaçaram. Desliguei o celular e não resisti. Enfiei o rosto no ombro de minha namorada e chorei a saudade de meu pai.
Interessante... Não chorei só de saudade de meu pai ou da ausência de minha mãe. Tinha mais coisa no meio, a começar pela simples realização do sonho de conhecer a rua deles em Salvador. E tinha até uma certa inveja, sabia? É claro que injustificada, mas ainda assim uma parte mais egoista de mim queria ter participado deste capítulo junto com eles. E o exato oposto, de saber que eles puderam se curtir, sozinhos, um ao outro, naquele cenário e naquela época - ali não era meu lugar nem meu tempo.
Escrevo isso agora e me dou conta de uma coisa que certamente já sabia mas que ficou realmente evidente na Bahia:
A vida que eu conheço não se trata somente de tudo que se passou após meu nascimento. Ela foi sendo moldada, planejada, sonhada, projetada e desejada desde muito antes, ativamente e passivamente, sempre sofrendo as influências de tudo e todos ao seu redor. Essa longa e bela metamorfose adquiriu forma naquela quarta-feira.
Que alegria, a minha... Eu tenho um pouquinho da Salvador de meus pais dentro de mim.
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