After all the bad things that happened around here, it is finally time to upgrade to WordPress 2.8.4.
I went from version 2.2.1 straight to 2.8.4 with no problems at all! (Which is somewhat amazing).
And while I am at it, check this out: Regarding WordPress and Security, which is a shame, but very true.
rhwinter, September 17th, 2009
Filed under: Uncategorized
2 Comments
The ones I found so far are either in Portuguese or Spanish (more to come, maybe)
Official Website: http://www.28bienalsaopaulo.org.br/
Extra “Bienal ETC.”, is a project by Fernando Oliva that gathers lots of articles about the 27th São Paulo Bienal: http://www.canalcontemporaneo.art.br/arteemcirculacao/archives/000993.html
More about the 27th here: http://forumpermanente.incubadora.fapesp.br/portal/.imprensa/fundacao-bienal-onde-esta-a-transparencia
rhwinter, December 15th, 2008
Filed under: art
No comments
“Is Good For You. Oh, so good!”
Enjoy:
http://www.emulgator.net/
rhwinter, December 9th, 2008
Filed under: art
No comments
Map with some of São Paulo’s most important galleries, including web addresses.
http://www.barocruz.com/main.
http://projetoobra.com.br/
http://dangaleria.com.br/
http://www.raquelarnaud.com/
http://www.galeriavirgilio.
http://www.galerialeme.com/
http://www.galeriamillan.com.
http://www.galerialuisastrina.
http://www.casatriangulo.com/
http://www.nararoesler.com.br/
http://www.britocimino.com.br/
http://www.galeriavermelho.
http://www.fortesvilaca.com.
http://www.galeriarosabarbosa.
rhwinter, December 8th, 2008
Filed under: art
No comments
or: Statement of freedom (for ideas).
I, as the writer, am hearby allowed or granted the right to:
1 – change my mind, thus leading to: disagreement with previous statements, negating them, conflicting statements, dubious statements, contradictions, ambiguous statements and so on…
1.1 – change and/or completely remove statements (on previous posts)
1.2 – (interchangeably) agree or disagree with others at any given moment
2 – write about anything, from what is important to what (I might even consider) superfluous
2.1 – not distinguish the above classes (a priori)
2.2 – not limit the horizon of writing based on (high) word count, clarity, originality, falseability or importance
2.3 – contain any number of meta-referential layers within anything written, even if that hinders complete understanding, thus not taking readers as idiots and requiring of them special attention while reading what’s not written
3 – write about things if which I have no extensive knowledge, or (any degree of) previous knowledge for that matter (without notice)
3.1 – intentionally write about things about which I have never thought of, researched, etc. so as to improve/advance my knowledge of them solely based on what I know of other things
3.2 – require of readers arbitrary levels of technical knowledge to understanding what I write
3.3 – include/use/cite any number of references (including zero) and even require them to be read (without notice) to make myself understood.
4 – Change this disclaimer from time to time
5 – Doubt and understand, but never believe. Not necessarily.
rhwinter, December 5th, 2008
Filed under: meta
No comments
Everybody has been wondering where you’ve been and now that we know what happened, we’re all wondering where you are. And even though we feel bad we won’t be seeing you around anymore, we want you to know we feel better we won’t have to worry anymore. We know your only worry now is: you worrying about us worrying about you. And even though we stopped worrying, that doesn’t mean we’re not still sad. And we’re happy to let you know that we always will be.
Handsome Boy Modeling School – Sunshine (Groove Armada Sunset Dub)
rhwinter, August 31st, 2007
Filed under: music
No comments
… about everything you always wanted to know.
rhwinter, June 21st, 2007
Filed under: circular, meta, short
1 Comment
A small spacecraft landed on my head today. Of course I was not aware of it immediately. As I walked down the street I felt a sort of sting, one of those that really bother to the point of making you stop whatever it is you are doing in order to reach it with your hands and do something as quickly as possible.
And that was precisely what I did. At first I thought it was a mosquito. But is just hurt a bit too much, which led me to conclude it had to be something else; a bee, probably.
This conclusion, as a matter of fact, took place in the very short time during which my left hand traversed the space between wherever it was and the point in my head where I had felt the sting. (Why does this matter?) So this made my arm decelerate abruptly and the hand reached the target much less strongly than it thought it would when it set off. But it really didn’t matter, perhaps because I hadn’t come fast enough to the conclusion that it was probably a bee; or even because my arm isn’t really well trained to perform the maneuver it was ordered to.
No, it didn’t matter: whatever it was I felt it was crushed right when my palm touched it. Not only did I feel it crushed, I felt it was different from what I expected. So different, in fact, that I took a bit longer than before to reach a new conclusion: it was actually not a bee, nor an insect, much less even organic at all, it felt like some kind of metal. “Aluminum foil, maybe” I thought of saying while I foresaw myself telling this story later. But that wasn’t even entirely true; as I approached this thing to my unbelieving eye in order to scrutinize it further, it were not them, but my ears which got ever more unbelieving: a very faint sound came from this thing, which, now so close to my eye, I perceived as what one would say was a little lump of baked potato oddly escaping its original aluminum foil wrap.
I don’t remember very well what ensued, but I’m pretty sure I heard a noise which reminded me of that made by screeching tires sometimes, but not often, when they go really high pitch. Still, the noise was faint. And was going even fainter as time passed and I stood there doing nothing.
By then, somehow, I was pretty sure of what was going on: a spacecraft the size of a rice bean, probably after traveling for longer than is worth mentioning, reached the Earth only to land exactly on my head; but, before it could do anything, I mercilessly crushed it to undistinguishable state. I immediately felt guilty (but, I have to acknowledge, not nearly as much as I should have been).
I still hadn’t the faintest idea what to do, so I did what anyone on those conditions would: closed my hand, taking care not to inflict more damage on the ship, and ran home as fast as I could. It is hard to explain as I think of this clearly now, but I thought then that, somehow, I’d be better equipped to help them if we went home.
What is even harder to explain is how I dropped it along the way without noticing and got home with nothing than more sweat on my face that it’s ever had in years and an empty hand. True story.
This very short story is part of a series of stories never before published (and, probably, unpublishable) simply because they were written, in a serial manner, by none other than me (who had never bothered to publish them).
rhwinter, April 27th, 2007
Filed under: art, short
No comments
“How many people lived in there?” she found herself thinking yet again. No, this wasn’t the first time she thought of this thought. Nor, rest assured, would it be the last. As a matter of fact the first time she thought of this was a long time ago and the last would be in a long time in the future, only minutes before she was to pass away. But even before the first time she thought of this, there had already been others who had done it. “How many people lived in there?” a seemingly simple question which can have such a myriad of possible answers. All of which could surprise whoever asked it. But it was not meant to be now that these answers would be discovered. It so happens that none of these answers would ever be discovered, for she who asked them was both unable to answer it herself and unwilling to let others help her answer it. Multiple personality disorder is, indeed, a bitch.
This very short story is part of a series of stories never before published (and, probably, unpublishable) simply because they were written, in a serial manner, by none other than me (who had never bothered to publish them).
rhwinter, April 11th, 2007
Filed under: art, short
No comments
