<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1720659767324833187</id><updated>2012-02-16T03:45:20.642-08:00</updated><category term='Etre'/><title type='text'>Comme des habitudes</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://commedeshabitudes.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1720659767324833187/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://commedeshabitudes.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Comme des habitudes - A antiArte.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06129605434123616408</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_gYA9Ung3DP0/R7jlo5rd_rI/AAAAAAAAAAQ/CTNT1UYtoEM/S220/EUZINHO.JPG'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>6</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1720659767324833187.post-8458391492989180053</id><published>2008-03-09T20:27:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-03-09T20:41:43.904-07:00</updated><title type='text'>arruar a mente 3</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Amy Winehouse&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;      " Eles tentaram fazer-me ir para a reabilitação I said no, no, no. Eu disse não, não, não"-&lt;strong&gt;Rehab&lt;/strong&gt; O mundo mudou muito desde os ataques de  11 de setembro. Desde então a música, a dança estavam pessimistas. Tudo girava em torno da desgraça americana, do Green Day à Madonna.  Daí surgiu a inglesa Winehouse. O mais interessante é que suas canções são auto bigráficas. Deu um UP na musicalidade internacional. Eu gosto, lembra blues e leves notas de Jazz. Não entendo porque tem gente que torce o nariz, afinal, até pouco tempo escutávamos a Barraco e agora vivenciamos a tragédia do bonde do rolê. Winehouse tem vocal, é cool - parece um pin-up com aquele cabelo de apliques e nunca se interessou em ir aos Estados Unidos. Aliás seu visto foi negado e depois que conseguiu pela segunda tentativa decidiu não viajar. " ahhhhh quero ir mais pra quela merda não" transmitiu seu espetáculo via internet mesmo. Winehouse é a nova Janis Joplin... mais bonita claro... só espero que ela chegue aos 27 anos....&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1720659767324833187-8458391492989180053?l=commedeshabitudes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://commedeshabitudes.blogspot.com/feeds/8458391492989180053/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1720659767324833187&amp;postID=8458391492989180053' title='2 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1720659767324833187/posts/default/8458391492989180053'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1720659767324833187/posts/default/8458391492989180053'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://commedeshabitudes.blogspot.com/2008/03/arruar-mente-3.html' title='arruar a mente 3'/><author><name>Comme des habitudes - A antiArte.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06129605434123616408</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_gYA9Ung3DP0/R7jlo5rd_rI/AAAAAAAAAAQ/CTNT1UYtoEM/S220/EUZINHO.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1720659767324833187.post-4843719553956969755</id><published>2008-03-09T20:15:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-03-09T20:26:44.398-07:00</updated><title type='text'>arruar a mente 2</title><content type='html'>Emos... a sociologia tem a mania de explicar tudo. tribos urbanas são manifestações sócio-culturais de indivíduos que se identificam mutuamente.  Mas afinal qual é a proposta dos Emos. Observo que a mágica gótica está em voga com uma pitada dos anos 70 mas essa analogia está aplicada sem idealismo. Daí percebo que maquiagem carregada e auto estimulação ao suicídio pregados pela neogótica Emy lee do Evanescence não possuem sentido. Gritam e botam a banca de cruéis e roqueiros mas se esquecem que música é manifestação cultural. Catam a dor sentimental com toques de guitarra Jim Morrison e Janis Joplin já faziam isso. Mas naquela época era legal, ou melhor.. inovador. . Hoje é tudo modismo - ler Neil Gaimam, Márcia Frazão, Paulo Coelho e aliar canto lírico com preto- sim é elegante mas n a vida toda  simplesmente enchem o bolso da morta viva que continua feliz. ops.. triste e depressiva como sempre quer que a mídia viencule. Como dizia Noel Gallinger do Oasis. Adolescente é idiota... compra qualquer coisa.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1720659767324833187-4843719553956969755?l=commedeshabitudes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://commedeshabitudes.blogspot.com/feeds/4843719553956969755/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1720659767324833187&amp;postID=4843719553956969755' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1720659767324833187/posts/default/4843719553956969755'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1720659767324833187/posts/default/4843719553956969755'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://commedeshabitudes.blogspot.com/2008/03/arruar-mente-2.html' title='arruar a mente 2'/><author><name>Comme des habitudes - A antiArte.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06129605434123616408</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_gYA9Ung3DP0/R7jlo5rd_rI/AAAAAAAAAAQ/CTNT1UYtoEM/S220/EUZINHO.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1720659767324833187.post-8133866103015135458</id><published>2008-03-09T19:59:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-03-09T20:14:34.781-07:00</updated><title type='text'>arruar a mente</title><content type='html'>todo mundo um dia se perguntou intimamente, qual o sentido da paixão. Redescobrindo e analisando percebi que me apaixono por uma essencia na qual Foucoalt chama em história da sexualidade volume 3 capítulo os rapazes de interpessoalidade dialética. Sou boço e me relaciono com boços.  não sou ogro e n me relaciono com ogros.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1720659767324833187-8133866103015135458?l=commedeshabitudes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://commedeshabitudes.blogspot.com/feeds/8133866103015135458/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1720659767324833187&amp;postID=8133866103015135458' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1720659767324833187/posts/default/8133866103015135458'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1720659767324833187/posts/default/8133866103015135458'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://commedeshabitudes.blogspot.com/2008/03/arruar-mente.html' title='arruar a mente'/><author><name>Comme des habitudes - A antiArte.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06129605434123616408</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_gYA9Ung3DP0/R7jlo5rd_rI/AAAAAAAAAAQ/CTNT1UYtoEM/S220/EUZINHO.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1720659767324833187.post-5832992802201305965</id><published>2008-02-20T18:30:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-20T18:34:35.550-08:00</updated><title type='text'>jardim.</title><content type='html'>adoro ornar no adro dele.&lt;br /&gt;meu altar de ouro.&lt;br /&gt;adoro estar com ele.&lt;br /&gt;toda hora é pra ti meu amor.&lt;br /&gt;todo o meu ser e meu viver.&lt;br /&gt;toda rosa pra tí meu amor.&lt;br /&gt;todas as flores e todo o meu olhar.&lt;br /&gt;minha vida, minha estrela.&lt;br /&gt;nunca esqueça que te adoro.&lt;br /&gt;os anjos me deram vc, os anjos te protegeram.&lt;br /&gt;minha vida , minha alma.&lt;br /&gt;meu ornar.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1720659767324833187-5832992802201305965?l=commedeshabitudes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://commedeshabitudes.blogspot.com/feeds/5832992802201305965/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1720659767324833187&amp;postID=5832992802201305965' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1720659767324833187/posts/default/5832992802201305965'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1720659767324833187/posts/default/5832992802201305965'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://commedeshabitudes.blogspot.com/2008/02/jardim.html' title='jardim.'/><author><name>Comme des habitudes - A antiArte.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06129605434123616408</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_gYA9Ung3DP0/R7jlo5rd_rI/AAAAAAAAAAQ/CTNT1UYtoEM/S220/EUZINHO.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1720659767324833187.post-4019506701270929602</id><published>2008-02-17T17:48:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-17T17:51:33.091-08:00</updated><title type='text'>minha ética.</title><content type='html'>sou jovem, boço e frêmulo.&lt;br /&gt;estou amalgamado por uma realidade fantástica.&lt;br /&gt;onde está meu cambucí.&lt;br /&gt;hoje estou apreensivo.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;mas repito, sou jovem, boço e frêmulo.&lt;br /&gt;saudades da minha infância.&lt;br /&gt;vivia sob-sobre? menos estresse.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1720659767324833187-4019506701270929602?l=commedeshabitudes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://commedeshabitudes.blogspot.com/feeds/4019506701270929602/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1720659767324833187&amp;postID=4019506701270929602' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1720659767324833187/posts/default/4019506701270929602'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1720659767324833187/posts/default/4019506701270929602'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://commedeshabitudes.blogspot.com/2008/02/minha-tica.html' title='minha ética.'/><author><name>Comme des habitudes - A antiArte.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06129605434123616408</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_gYA9Ung3DP0/R7jlo5rd_rI/AAAAAAAAAAQ/CTNT1UYtoEM/S220/EUZINHO.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1720659767324833187.post-5617747200249337653</id><published>2008-02-15T11:58:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-15T12:00:16.354-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Etre'/><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Bonsuar!!Çava!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1720659767324833187-5617747200249337653?l=commedeshabitudes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://commedeshabitudes.blogspot.com/feeds/5617747200249337653/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1720659767324833187&amp;postID=5617747200249337653' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1720659767324833187/posts/default/5617747200249337653'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1720659767324833187/posts/default/5617747200249337653'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://commedeshabitudes.blogspot.com/2008/02/bonsuarava.html' title=''/><author><name>Comme des habitudes - A antiArte.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06129605434123616408</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_gYA9Ung3DP0/R7jlo5rd_rI/AAAAAAAAAAQ/CTNT1UYtoEM/S220/EUZINHO.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
