"Happy 'Halo-In'"
At stake: A cast in a good stage
A letter from Wood Alien to one of his wooden fans:
"Dear Forest Grump,
You asked me how to break into Holy-wood.
Well, just burn the hell out of it!"
Just for my love of words, puns and fun continues...
Million Dollar Barbie:
Oops..."She Bops!"
"You kissed my hubby!"
"And you called me 'chubby'!"
Now, they punch, they push,
Kneel the punks on the bush..."
Superstar
"Long ago and oh so far away
I fell in love with you before the second show
Your guitar, it sounds so sweet and clear
But you're not really here
It's just the radio
(*) Don't you remember you told me you loved me baby
You said you'd be coming back this way again baby
Baby, baby, baby, baby, oh, baby, I love you I really do
Loneliness is a such a sad affair
And I can hardly wait to be with you again
What to say to make you come again
Come back to me again
And play your sad guitar" (The Carpenters)
Just once a Carpenter came into my life
In fifteen mini-tools, and I knew I had to become his wife.
My, so entraced was I, He varnished without a strife...
Just for fun
I invented summer older puns:
Many a time you take a real nap in,
You really dream of a nap-king!
(Rolling your eyes while you drool rules...
...but that doesn't mean that it's also cool!;o)
Let's sing some old songs,
Oh, they just make me remember you.
Very vivid the sensation of a long,
Evolving pain of missing you would do.
Phony ethics: What a pain in the attics!
Plainly, the lane in a blame explains the blain.
And if you take the "l" out of it
It aims to more complaint to comp^l^ete:
Now the bane expands the span of pain.
(With a bit of "My Fairy Aid" to comp^l^ete: my love of words, puns and other funny tics continue to spell fire but in a slight tendency to dragon;o)
__D__on't tell me about pain, a penny at all:
__E__nough I had last year, for a root canal,
__N__ot an easy, but very sharp and edgy procedure.
__T__wo other dentists I had to endure.
__A__ll of them failed, but a friend finally hit the nail on the head,
__L__ooking in a microscope. Afterwards, I felt the pain so bad.
__M__y doctor recommended to take some medicine.
__E__ven then, I didn't take any, but that was not a very good scene.
__D__idn't I feel suprised when I started to feel the unbearable break?
__I__nside my head it started to ache, my whole body couldn't stop to shake,
__C__onsumed liquid-dated for a week. My eyes reversed as if in a stake.
__I__ couldn't bare it any longer; some pills I had to take.
__N__o wonder what I was trying to do: to transcend dental medication.
__E__rror: it didn't work out. I'm back to a frontline: a dairy me-dictation.
What I write may sound surreal,
Hence, I base it all upon my real life.
Once I'm not a phony, but a ring will appeal.
May you call me a real straight agent with a fife?
A dessert to a deserter in the desert burst,
"I know I'm not your thirst. In that you can trust.
Maybe not even a second. But I might be your lust!"
The deserter was in-triggered. He did line:
"In a flesh thyme flies. And I cant dine.
More: I don't want whine to carrion. Or I'll quit.
End I soon, honey bee-leave weed meat.
And if I'm not on time for a coffee break date,
Does that still make me cup-able to cope latte?"
__P__lease,
__L__et us be free,
__E__lated by a plea,
__A__nd go to the sea,
__S__o that you can see
__E__nough to make you agree... with me!
Just can I keep an eye on you?
I can tell you anything.
Me, myself and eye see a fling:
You are like me, red or blue! Ana C.
"Join me: After all, the love you take
Certainly equals to the love you make."
I remember each and every word
Leaving me speechless, surprised!
Oh, and I treasure them in my world,
Very much, for much I'm compromised.
Especially your last three ones
U told me over your cell phone...
__S__ome people just touch you by their smile,
__O__thers bring happiness staying for a while.
__U__nique are you, for conquering my heart.
__L__oving you is for me the best part! Ana C.
Justly a dessert to a deserter in the desert burst,
"I know I'm not your thirst. In that you can trust.
Maybe not even a second. But I might be your lust!"
Let me grill you more yolks, yet cheesy,
As for my English, it's full of holes,
So I can still cook some grate things
To melt heart in its own whey, in a bowl.
For you know laughing is the best me-dye-scene
And it heels from the inside out like a wac-cine...
Never under-mine the power of a coo-al hymn! Ana "In" Tunes
Ok, here it goes some Pilo-sophy that I coloured up a liter
That's to 'dye' for:
What's the first think you learn in a Beauty School?
'K-now dye-self!'
(For I was also known for being a model who usually used her head, but most definetely her hair... Hon, you know, keeping my "pillar" up, I 're-freeze' that: I always loved to make people laugh once in a while... Laughter is the best me-dye-scene after all!;o)
Do your Best, and Thank the Rest!
__W__hat's up
__I__n a closed club...
__S__ometimes comes down
__E__ven in an unusual gown...
So I think the egg came first... Yeah... or, yet, nope!
Urgh...wait, yes, but I'm also not so sure of it either...
Really, but what it boils down to is... hmmmm, I still have hope
Egg ain't crack this down... but that cracks me up reither!
An^A^-Cross-Tics © 2006 Ana Claudia Antunes, Ink.
(I'm still waiting for the second show; so I'll be glad to have... All Rights Re-served;o)
"I do not believe we can repair the basic fabric of society until people who are willing to work have work. Work organizes life. It gives structure and discipline to life. It gives meaning and self-esteem to people who are parents. It gives a role model to children."
William Jefferson Clinton
42nd President, 1993-2001 (Democrat)
On September of this year, the former American President Clinton had a heart operation, a by-pass surgery which, although aparently simple, is indeed a quite complicate process...Then people indulged themselves with quite a lot of judgemental arguments towards him: too much stress, too much junk food, and people keep asking and speculating... Willie Nillie he surely had a very "en-viable" routine, a scheduled and yet crazy life at the White House with all the whiskies and friskies and Lewinskies that he could afford and that he found on the way... But, just like the global heating, the greenhouse effect, which some say is provoked by gas emission and increasing pollution and that other still insist on affirming is by natural causes, are we actually listenning to the Earth's necessities? And are we really hearing the beat of our own hearts? What about our planet's?? All that I know is that a heart that is thankful don't funk around, but flanks with sobriety, and thanks to a sober life it may survive a great deal. Heart to heart, let's just say that one should be thankful enough to be alive, to say the least, in this pretty dangerous times.
I thank for the bottom of my heart for just being able to breath...but surely I can still work hard to preserve the air that we breath...That's why I take the bus, or take a walkin' everywhere I go. And take a lift when the place is too far away...this way I also take this opportunity to see new faces, to smile to the gardener who I haven't noticed before, and have a chat with the nextdoor neighbour. For our lives become too small if all we do is getting out of the garage and leaving the building only by car. Also it's more expensive: see how many people suffer from lung insufficiency and other sedentary problems, and count it on the hospital bills and medical care. You know, a healthy life lies on simple things.
Hmmm it's Thanksgiving...And what that recall you?? Not only to give Thanks but also to make a nice Turkey!! As I am a veggie, I prefer to create a new recipe. So I am willing to share (all) my secrets to ^U^:
Here I describe my lasagna with white and red sauce which I particularly thing is a typical food (at least from me, for I have red and white blood...referring to my Europeans and Indian origins) tempered with my strong Brazilian accent.
Let's start then with the Lasagna with white and red sauce...I am vegetarian. So I use only natural, vegetable, no meat, please!
The ingredients are:
2 onions
2 big (it depends on the size of your pan) spoon of vegetal butter
White corn flour (from Quaker)
2 cans (big ones) of tomato sauce
500 gr. slice of cheese (I don't know the quantity in pounds...but it's usually the same as if you were to make sandwiches for ten (hungry) children)
two boxes of lasagna slices (that you can buy on any big supermarket) preferably pre-cooked (the other ones are just too crunchy when you cook them, not too tasteful!)
1 bottle of milk (preferably whole, not fat free...sorry, girls! But you really want the lasagna to be really appreciated, don't you?)
1 wooden spoon (I prefer those from metal for it conserves the natural flavor of food)
So, first you prepare the "forma" (what's the name in English? There where you cook or bake...a pan, but a rectangular one) Anyways, you add butter in it, and then spread it over to oint (is that right?) so that it would avoid burning and frying the pan. Then you put some wheat flour over it and spread it too.
Now in a separate pan prepare the onions (in very small slices) and add butter (just a spoon) and you can already start to cook it. Some two minutes later you can add the corn flour with the milk, and never stop spreading it on the pan.
Keep turning the wooden spoon. Take it out of oven. Let it rest.
Now with the rectangular pan ready, make a first layer of the lasagna slice. Then spur the white sauce that might be still hot and spread it over the layer. Now take one tomato sauce container and spread it over it. Now you have the two sauces (White and Red) over it, you may add cheese (and if you are not vegetarian, you may aggregate cooked red meat (preferably into pieces), bacon or ham, making another layer. Then by repeating the same procedure described above, make some three or four layers (or more, if you have guests!!)
After making three or four (or more, if you have more guests) you are ready to let it on the oven, which must have been pre-cooked. Let it cook for around half an hour to forty-five minutes (or until one hour if you used the uncooked lasagna which I referred too on the ingredients)
Put it to cook in a pre-heated oven and let it cook for about forty-five to fifty minutes (or an hour if you use the lasagna slices I mentioned on the ingredients.
If you succeed even after all my instructions layered up with my foreign accent, you are the Pump-King/Queen!!! Congrats!
That's why I always recommend stretching exercises for your body and mind, especially after pumping up!! Or you might as well turn into a pump-king!
Now the dessert for the Halloween (with pumpkins, of course!!):
Put five or six small slices of pumpkins previously cooked with sugar and water and drown them with butter on a pan. Let it fry a little only and then serve it in small plates ( they would taste terrific if you add jam or honey and spread over them.)
Hmmmmmmmm...Hope you have a feast!!!
I was thinking about a way to describe some craft for you…you know to make this newsletter more(?) fun… paper cutting is much fun, but I wouldn't know how to start to explain how to make them...I will try...Maybe if I evoke Hans Christian Andersen's spirit he might come down here to help! But if I come up with any idea on how to expose the how-to-do then I will send it to you. But I already sent a recipe, a lasagna with white and red sauce which I particularly thing is a typical food (at least from me, for I have red and white blood...referring to my Europeans and Indian origins) but I could also send another recipe typical from Brazil. The food is very famous in Brazil (Brazilian do it every Saturday) and it is called Feijoada, a plate made with pure Black Beans and pork meat and it is very easy to do. You just cook the beans and then add all the rests of all meats that you possibly find from the left-overs over the week and then... voila!! You have a nice feijoada. just don't go blame the dogs the rest of the weekend though...
Bon Appetite!
Black Beans are delicious...In Rio you may encounter this at any resaturant menu. Hmmm, it is almost lunch time and now I'm hungry...
Healing Arts for the Heart
by Ana Bowlova
There is a saying that goes something like this:
"You can smoke your life away." Or also: "Smoking is a daily deadly habit."
I should rather say:
"Smoke and you will see no sweet yoke!"
Smoky! But so true:
That's now a fact that the effect of both active smoking and second-hand smoking is on the rise in the risk of breast cancer. Tobacco smoke is much more potent in causing breast cancer than it is in causing either lung cancer or heart disease. The majority of all breast cancers are caused by tobacco smoke, a forty percent through active smoking and half of it due to second-hand smoking. But in all cases the importance of knowing the numbers is not enough. People keep smoking their lives away even knowing about the hazard and ugly effects it may cause to their health and of their family's health, for as much as someone in their family doesn't touch a cigarette, they breath the same poisoned air and may be contaminated as well; and that's what we call the passive smokers.
An air polluted by carbon monoxide doesn't harm as much as the nicotine/cotinine combination does. And yet pollution in the big city is considered one of the major problems that causes heart and lung diseases. We cannot avoid but fear the serious effect of passive smoking on coronary heart disease. But clearly enough tobacco-smoke poisons are number one in reference to women's breasts. And worst of all, mothers are poisoning their own children when babies who breast-feed from women who are active or second-hand smokers swallow the harmful chemicals.
I am afraid that even knowing about all that, women still insist on grabbing the next cigarette they find in their purse, even learning about how important tobacco smoke is in causing breast cancer. Thanks to the nicotine, smoking can become more than an addiction, haunting women with a vicious like a gargantuan monster that takes them earlier to the grave. For I am sure it needs more than having a very good reason to stop smoking either actively or at second-hand. Instead of taking the next tube of suicide bomb, women should touch their breast first to not only verify if there is no tumor, if their breasts are not a hairbreadth of being extirpated, but also to remember of their responsibility towards the feeding of a humanity free from hazardous acts. Also it is important to find a health activity that will keep women away from the thought of smoking, for a cigarette not only makes one believe that it maintains a slim figure (go figure out how) it also gives the illusionary image of making oneself more comfortable and relaxed. So all activities concerning the mind and body will be of some benefit to all. From bicycling, taking a walk to energize and purify mind and breath, to just sit still and meditate will improve the hearts and lungs health. Any active measure of staying away from tobacco is indeed a blessing cause.
Women should think first of their own health and, by giving just a small step to recover their own self-image, by a simple act of taking care of themselves, they can in the long run bring together the whole world for a healthier life style. By doing so those of childbearing age will be protecting themselves from breast cancer and will be lowering the amount of tobacco-smoke poisons babies are taking in through breast-feeding. Mothers must be encouraged to take the positive step of avoiding active and second-hand smoking for the sake of their infants and of humanity and the future of civilization.
That's why I recommend exercises for your body mind and soul. There is no better way of loosing weight, of keeping that glow on the skin (not due to sweating, to be clear) and feel revigorating than dancing all day! More on Ballet with "T":
http://www.anabowlova.bravehost.com/Dancing.html
Thank you for those who stayed so faithfully on my list.
And even not “listening” to what I write, you care about it...
And that for me, mes cheries, il suffit!!
It's already so good to know that you are there for me,
As much as I am for you. That’s so much to fulfill:
A friend is a treasure so rare to find...
If you keep receiving my news all so kind,
Taking it as it comes like pills,
Well, that's a whole lot of free will!!
And a lot more of total friendship!
A bunch much of a punch of zip
Thank YOU!!! Check out my book "Many Lives to Love...and The Eternity to Live" An Anthologic Book where in one of the stories I describe the power of a magical word: "Thanks!"
Thank you so much for "hearing" my words, and allowing me to share my own experiences. I do have my limitations.
I wished I were an angel, but I am a mere(?) human being. Especially because I cannot handle English as well as if I were dancing on my tiptoes, but true, I do have value. I do believe as I began Ballet with my flat feet I also can write with my flat English.
I can accomplish much with little: If God gave me a lemon, I would not only, adding some sugar and water, make a lemonade but I would as well keep the seeds and plant new lemon trees. Instead of crying for the lack of opportunities I take what I have and make them grow. I see potential in each small thing. So I assure you that from the little vocabulary I have I can make it a good thing if you look into another perspective; I do not have any vicious of language and no rigid style, I can be reshaped any way the muses direct me to. You see, I'm very flexible (thanks to my years of Ballet) and I can dance any music you play! I will dip into my words, and” find my own voice", as a Senior Editor suggested me to do:
But how am I supposed to my own voice expose and find,
if there are just so many characters also playing inside my mind?
I should give them expression and voice as well.
And write the stories they are eager to tell.
But there is a way I can easily access to my core,
and make a chorus in poetic lines flowing from each pore
It is when I sing that I give voice to my soul.
May I sing high, may I sing low.
Just the poor neighbors,
Who have to listen to my labors...
I've always loved to sing. I'm not a professional singer; in spite of all, I do my best! I sing for you, and dance in the stage called life, and paint a beautiful picture of us all together making a remarkable work of Art!
When you bear a cross, you hold a sword.
That’s where it lives, your soul.
If you cannot find your voice, your word
Find yourself in the myriads of what you sow.
And from there you may grow!
Once I was at the Heathrow Airport in London and the woman at the Customs Service started to throw an avalanche of questions at me. In the end, she asked me what my father did, and after hours standing up there and quite tired, I responded to her inquiring face:
“He is a liar…”. She looked at me, astonished, and then I said:
“No, I mean, a lawyer, a lawyer!” She stamped the maximum of time permission Visa on my passport.
She must have thought:
“With that English, girl, you cannot go so far…”
No. Instead, after I apologized for my bad English she replied:
"When I was at school, my colleagues used to write at each other’s diaries, anything they could think about their friendship. Every time those kinds of memories and souvenirs’ books would reach out into my hands, I would write poems into them. I couldn’t find any better way to write about my feelings than through the rhythms of flowing words as in poetry. Then, they would all dispute to who could get the best poem Ana Claudia would write for them, for each and every one I would write something different for I had different feelings and outlooks for and from them.
Then, I would notice that some liked my poems so much that they would actually copy them into other’s diaries, of course without saying that it was written by me.
I was flattered, although I realized also that maybe they wouldn’t think that I wrote them by myself and they thought I had just copied from someone else’s work. Then, I would really feel flattered. But I was indeed felt "fluttering" the day I showed my first book of poems to my mother, and I saw tears in her eyes. It was the first time that I remember touching my mother’s feelings so deeply like that. It filled my heart with so much proud and poured my soul in pure ecstasy!
My first three poetries that I drafted with a pencil when I was seven, and that I still have the diary where I scratched on and wrote the (a) musing words down, were Rare, Innocence and Rhyme. Here I transcribe them from my memory for I still remember them by heart (as much as FROM the heart):
Rare: Little word
In a huge world.
Rare is You
The precious jewel
That is so true.
But without love
Rare has no value
Everyone gets distance
From the one with no appearance.
Rhyme
Run, jump, and give us a turn,
Roll and make the floor burn.
Is it the happiness from the girl?
She jumps with her hair in curls.
With her hands, and hair
In the air…
Or is it the rhyme
That it is so fine
That is in the tip of her tongue,
So that she can make us a song?
Innocence
He who has innocence is loved.
He who has innocence is gay.
He, who has not, always complains.
Innocence is searched above.
Innocence is searched below.
But for the ones who lost it
There is no return to post it.
That is what they do not know."
(Excerpts from the book "The Tao of Physical and Spiritual")
Some Acknowledgements In English as a SL
Some Acknowledge amends in English to Xcell.
Ack-NOW-legends In English with a Spirit of Liberty:
Where was I thirty years ago?
In 1968, right in the "crux" of a revolution, there I was born in the Ana Costa Hospital. "Grazing in the Grass" by Hugh Masekela and "I Pretend" by Des O'Connor were number one on the radios that day. And I pretended that I really intended to make part of this crazy world. At two days of living in this planet I was in a mi(^l^)ca way predestined by the stars above, brought by my mother’s arms to an apartment in the ninth floor in a building called Cineland, right at the corner of a major avenue also named Ana Costa, which translated into English will be something like Ana Coast. And I can still recall my first five years as I walked miles and miles of distance from the shore, running to the big sea(n), like a little turtle just getting out of its egg, eager to be swallowed by a huge wave from the warm and mellow waters of the Atlantic Ocean that gently bathes the Southeast coast of Brazil.
I remember very clearly that we were already in the end of a Dictator Regimen, and I saw myself obliged to sing the National Hymn, every morning at seven o’clock sharp and no excuse to be late, right at the patio of my dear American Primary School(s). We had to make a formation, touching each other's shoulders with our arms extended in a type of echelon. Wearing our uniforms in a neat way, we were armed only by our convictions that one day we would be allowed to laugh about all that. One or two giggled for stepping in each other's shoes, obliging the other to get off line to incorporate the foot back into position. Our heads and shoulders had to be maintained in a straight way. Then, an invited general from the Army with a quite often rumble and bumble speech with a full chest dissimulating a grandeur personality set a platinum disk over a Victrola which played the LP with a sharp niddle slightly touching the lines of a petroleum color. And after hearing him bloviating an hour or so, we had to sing our enormous Hymn out loud and in unison, or we were obliged to repeat it again until we got the tune. And I, who actually mimed my colleagues from my First Grade, for I forgot the second part of the Epopee, always felt like a little ant among many big irrefragable elephants.
But I also felt as if I were ensorcelled by the moments of inspiration given to me as a gift during my immemorial in-fancy time in Santos. And those are indeed the deeds and the treasures that I will keep inside my heart and soul. And my eternal gratitude for a city that gave me so much enticement beneath its ludic rays of freedom and happiness, that all make me keep on with the chorus of emotions that the enchanting shore still brings to me. And it motivates me to declare with plenty of enthusiasm and my lungs full of light air that “I am a santista, and sportiest, and an artist" to whom Santos is an ever-present praised unprecedented scenario.
Where am I going to be thirty years from now?
Probably, with the same happiness and sweetness on my eyes, with the same idealisms, perhaps a little bit wiser and just, but still with the same innocence: For life will never loose its subtle touch for those who remember their childhood with some glimpses of sublime experiences from wishful hearts. Maybe the innocence lies on each small look from a petit child who naively wishes to be happy. And the idealism inhabits the wistful thoughts of those who desirably fight and will never cease striving to bring happiness and freedom to all. It’s simple as that morning walking contemplation of a matutinal stroll by the sun in a candent candor from the beginning of summer days at the shores of a roboranting beach city in the name of all Saints.
(Check out my book "Many Lives to Love...and The Eternity to Live" with plenty of stories, one of them passed in a fructuous city called Santos) at: http://www.lulu.com/content/57752
"South Adagio"
"Saudade" it is a word that only exists in Portuguese.
It is from the heart, but it doesn't make it any easy.
Although it can make it a little cheesy
To rhyming Portuguese so at
Br...ease...
Please!
It could be translated just as this:
I, Miss Ana, Miss You...
You could say, "I miss you" but it is in a different tone.
It is even more intense than the sense of missing someone...
You really feel your heart full of the existence of that person
And at the same time it is empty for the lack of that one.
It is about the way I wished upon a feather,
Just when I left a piece of my heart in that letter
where I said that my love for you wouldn't ever die.
And you thought that it was just another lie...
Like a little gust of a wind blowing,
leaving the earth and saying, "Saudades"
I feel the emptiness even knowing
that I still have the remembrance of us.
"Adeus" or, if you excuse me, "Adios!"
Ana Bowlova
I know what I have given you. I do not know what you have received.
-Antonio Porchia, writer (1886-1968)