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MUSIC
  • RAMBLIN' WAYN - YOUTUBE
  • RAMBLIN WAYN OUTLAW MUSIC SITE - INFO
  • RAMBLIN WAYN'S OUTLAW/SONGS
  • TALKIN' TO THE BLUES
  • SMELL OF THE SWAMP
  • TWO YOUNG OUTLAW LOVERS
  • BORN NUMBER 13 ON A BAD ROAD
  • THE DAMN RIDE
  • GOD IS UNDERCOVER
  • this blog will be regularly updated
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    RAMBLIN' & STINGRAY

    COVERS BY RAMBLIN WAYN
  • ACROSS THE BORDER LINE (Ry Cooder/John Hiatt)
  • I DON'T HURT ANYMORE
  • RAMBLIN' WAYN SINGS '13' by GLENN DANZIG
  • FRISCO DEPOT -(MICKEY NEWBURY
  • KISS ME OUICK Doc Pomus/ Mort Shuman (c) 1963
  • HE STOP LOVING HER TODAY - BOBBY BRADDOCK
  • JUST A GIRL I USED TO KNOW - COWBOY JACK CLEMENT
  • I JUST TOLD MAMA GOODBEY - HANKWILLIAMS
  • WHEN THE WORD WAS THUNDERBIRD - Billy Joe Shaver
  • WHISKEY, WHISKEY - DAVID A COE
  • THE BELIEVER - A BOB CARPENTER SONG SUNG BY RAMBLIN' WAYN
  • Foto

    Arthel 'Doc' Watson

  • Doc Watson playing Wayne Henderson guitar - aug. 2006
  • Foto
    J.P STINGRAY  BLUES/ROCKER
  • VISIT MY BROTHER'S J.P STINGRAY GUITAR STORE HEERLEN, NETHERLANDS
  • JP STINGRAY CLIP 'GOODBYE HURRICANE' DEDICATED TO SRV
  • THE WORLD TURNS CRAZY AGAIN - RAMBLIN' WAYN
  • KUNSTENAARS SITE IN BELGI
  • VIDEO MUSIC
  • CEGO OLIVEIRO with his Rabequinha - NA PORTA DAS CABARIS - Nordeste Brasil - ARTE BRASILEIRA/REPENTE
  • Foto
  • COLD, COLD HEART - I CAN'T HELP IT - HANK WILLIAMS
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    Dear reader, a small grammatical error?
    My apology!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
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    RAMBLIN' WAYN - ROCK & ROLL - ART
    Music- Poetry- Painting *************** Musica- Poesia- Pintura
    LIVIN' IS AN ART - VIRTUAL GALERY
    23-08-2010
    Klik hier om een link te hebben waarmee u dit artikel later terug kunt lezen.I HATE THE MAN (VIDEO CLIP) RAMBLIN' WAYN
    Klik op de afbeelding om de link te volgen


    RAMBLIN' WAYN - I HATE THE MAN


    http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=X8vs73Rm9Es

    23-08-2010 om 20:19 geschreven door Wayn  

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    Klik hier om een link te hebben waarmee u dit artikel later terug kunt lezen.JOHN LEE HOOKER - PAINTING BY MICHAEL FACEY (OIL ON WATERCOLOR PAPER)

    JOHN LEE HOOKER

    AS PAINTED BY MICHAEL FACEY




    VISIT JP'S VIRTUAL  GUITAR STORE ON THE LEFT BAR!

    23-08-2010 om 15:14 geschreven door Wayn  

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    11-08-2010
    Klik hier om een link te hebben waarmee u dit artikel later terug kunt lezen.FRIDA KAHLO PAINTINGS

    ROOTS  1943




    HENRY FORD HOSPITAL 1931




    FRIEDA E DIEGO 1932



    MUCHAS GRACIAS FRIDA,
    WAYN

    11-08-2010 om 22:53 geschreven door Wayn  

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    09-08-2010
    Klik hier om een link te hebben waarmee u dit artikel later terug kunt lezen.FRIDA KAHLO (July 6, 1907 - July 13, 1954, Mexico)

    Frida Kahlo de Rivera (July 6, 1907 July 13, 1954; born Magdalena Carmen Frieda Kahlo y Caldern,  born in Coyoacn, Mexico.




    a few small nips


    Selfportrait on bed


    the two Frida's


    Thinking about death


    Frida and her husband Diego Rivera


    selfportrait

    mANY tHANKS FOREVER,
    wAYN

    09-08-2010 om 22:01 geschreven door Wayn  

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    02-08-2010
    Klik hier om een link te hebben waarmee u dit artikel later terug kunt lezen.KISAKA- PAWNEE SONG - CLARIFICATION

                                                                       PAWNEE


                                                                                KISAKA


    Song of Rejoicing and Thanksgiving

    Explained by Lesa-Kipiliru (Young Chief)

    When a man receives presents from another, he may sing this song, remembering that all things come through the power of Tirawa, and asking of the Father, while giving thanks, a renewal of his gifts-long life, good health, and plenty in the fields.
      The man who receives prays for a blessing on the man who gives.
    Thus thanks he the giver. Well is it to give to the poor and to the helpless, for they hedded of the Father. Their prayers will be heard, and more surely than those of all others will their blessings be fullfilled upon the giver.
        Worth more than all the prayers of the prosperous and strong are the thankfull prayers of the feeble. the aged, and the poor.

    Kisaka                                         Song of the Thanksgiving

    Nawa Atius,                                                                 Now, O Father,
    Iri ta-titska,                                                                 Our thanks be unto thee,
    Iri asuta hawa,                                                               Our thanks! Renew our plenty!
    Iri rurahe!                                                                     OUr Thanks!  Renew these thy gifts to us!


    (c) 1907
    THE INDIANS BOOK (SONGS AND LEGENDS OF THE AMERICAN INDIANS
    Nathalie Curtis (1875-1921)
                                                 STORYTELLER

    02-08-2010 om 13:24 geschreven door Wayn  

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    27-07-2010
    Klik hier om een link te hebben waarmee u dit artikel later terug kunt lezen.B&W RAMBLIN' WAYN FOTO SESSION by PAUL RONDAGH (MAASTRICHT, NETHERLANDS) SOMWHERE IN JUNE 2010
    COLLAGE RW ON CAVAQUINHO WITH INDIANS & LITTLE BLACK PETER IN THE MIDDLE
    RW IN THE KITCHEN
    RW PLAYING HIS GUILD

    THANKS PAUL, 
    RW

    27-07-2010 om 20:35 geschreven door Wayn  

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    14-07-2010
    Klik hier om een link te hebben waarmee u dit artikel later terug kunt lezen.JP STINGRAY BLUES/ROCKER

     AND THE BLUES TELLS THE TRUTH

    JP Stingray began playing the guitar at age 13, inspired by his older brother Ramblin' Wayn, who is also a country/rock recording artist in Holland. Soon, JP discovered the music of his first guitar hero Rory Gallagher, who would become a great influence upon him. Later, he would hear the music of the great Stevie Ray Vaughan, who would ultimately become his greatest influence. Because of Stevie Ray's music, JP would develop a great love for the Texas blues/rock style which remains with him until this day.

    After stints with several blues and rock bands, JP would form the band Crossroad, who played covers from ZZ Top, Stevie Ray, Rory, Gary Moore and others. The band would become a very popular band in and around JP's home area.

                                                                         


    In 1996, JP recorded his first solo blues CD "Blues Stringer", which contained 15 songs ranging from up tempo Texas shuffles to slow blues ballads. This CD showcased not only JP's diverse lead and bass guitar skills but also his very fine vocals and song writing. He recorded the set at his new home studio in Holland with the aid of ex-Crossroad drummer Charlie DeJong. Naturally, he dedicated his first solo effort to both Rory Gallagher and Stevie Ray and included an original song "Goodbye Hurricane", written and performed in Stevie's memory.                                                                                                                                                                                







    JP's next studio effort was the release of a CD he titled "The Other Side", on which he recorded songs inspired by his non-blues influences, mainly Southside Johnny and the Asbury Jukes, along with Bruce Springsteen, with just a dash of Bon Jovi. Again, this very fine recording was produced and engineered in JP'shome studio.         


                                                               

    JP has released the CD "Road To Oblivion" which is another powerful set of blues/rocking JP Stingray originals. 


                                       
                                                                   
                                                         


    BLESSING, BRO

    RAMBLIN' WAYN



    VISIT JP STINGRAY'S WEBSITE -  look on THE LEFT COLUMN -

    YOU'RE WELCOME

    14-07-2010 om 00:00 geschreven door Wayn  

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    13-07-2010
    Klik hier om een link te hebben waarmee u dit artikel later terug kunt lezen.SURREAL PAINTINGS VOL. 3; MICHAEL RYAN, MADALEINE VON FOERSTER, KARL PERSSON
    ADORATION IN THE WASTELAND - MICHAEL RYAN
    OIL ON BOARD




    MADALEINE VON FOERSTER 'MOTHER AND CHILD'
    OIL ON PANEL 2003



    KARL PERSSON 'DOOR' 2008 OIL ON  CANVAS
     

    THANKS, RAMBLIN' WAYN

    13-07-2010 om 17:25 geschreven door Wayn  

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    12-07-2010
    Klik hier om een link te hebben waarmee u dit artikel later terug kunt lezen.'SALVADOR, BAHIA' OIL ON BLADE 1999 RAMBLIN' WAYN

    MULHER EM VISTA DA UMA CASA DA PUTA

    (WOMAN IN SIGHT OF A WHORE HOUSE)


    12-07-2010 om 16:06 geschreven door Wayn  

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    05-07-2010
    Klik hier om een link te hebben waarmee u dit artikel later terug kunt lezen.BRAZILIAN PAINTINGS

    RETRATO DE MULHER
    BY BENEDITO JOSE TOBIAS (1894-1963) BRAZIL
    OIL ON CANVAS



    ELON BRASIL 1957
    MAJUTA - 'O PAG'  2002
    OIL ON CANVAS  80BY60




    REDENTORA  - 2010
    SOLANGE PALATNIK, RIO DE JANEIRO 1944
    ACRYLIC ON CANVAS




    ORLANDO TERUZ 1902-1984  BRAZIL
    'FUTEBAL'
    1965

    05-07-2010 om 18:50 geschreven door Wayn  

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    17-06-2010
    Klik hier om een link te hebben waarmee u dit artikel later terug kunt lezen.TWO PROSTITUTES ===== OIL ON CANVAS RAMBLIN W

    ON THE EASEL



    VEV



    EROTICA

    17-06-2010 om 14:12 geschreven door Wayn  

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    12-06-2010
    Klik hier om een link te hebben waarmee u dit artikel later terug kunt lezen.JULIA GNUSE -- TATTOO-ART

    JULIA WAS BORN IN 1959 FLINT, MICHIGAN. BORN WITH THE DISEASE PORPHYRIA WHICH MAKES SUNLIGHT RESULT BLISTERS ON THE SKIN. AS THE BLISTERING TURN INTO SCARRING SHE STARTED USING TATTOOS TO COVER UP THE SCARS.
    95% OF HER BODY IS TATTOOED

    THE RESULT IS THIS BEAUTIFULL BODY-ART,

    WAYN




    THANKS JULIA

    12-06-2010 om 00:00 geschreven door Wayn  

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    07-06-2010
    Klik hier om een link te hebben waarmee u dit artikel later terug kunt lezen.E3 PAINTINGS BY EMILE NOLDE 1867-1956 GERMANY=========

    MASK




    LOST PARADISE



    EINER FRAU MIT GESCHLOSSENER AUGEN

    07-06-2010 om 19:31 geschreven door Wayn  

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    31-05-2010
    Klik hier om een link te hebben waarmee u dit artikel later terug kunt lezen.Dennis Hopper, 74, Hollywood Rebel, Dies

    Dennis Hopper, 74, Hollywood Rebel, Dies

    Dennis Hopper, whose portrayals of drug-addled, often deranged misfits in the landmark films Easy Rider, Apocalypse Now and Blue Velvet drew on his early out-of-control experiences as part of a new generation of Hollywood rebel, died Saturday at his home in Venice, Calif. He was 74. The cause was complications from metastasized prostate cancer, according to a statement issued by Alex Hitz, a family friend. DennisHopper, who said he stopped drinking and using drugs in the mid-1980s, followed that change with a tireless phase of his career in which he claimed to have turned down no parts.
    His credits include no fewer than six films released in 2008 and at least 25 over the past 10 years. He wrangled small parts in big studio films like The Sons of Katie Elder (1965) directed by his former nemesis Henry Hathaway as well as Cool Hand Luke (1967) and Hang Em High (1968).

    And he grew close to his wifes childhood friend Peter Fonda, who, with Dennis Hopper and a few others, began mulling over a film whose story line followed traditional western themes but substituted motorcycles for horses.That film, Easy Rider, which Hopper wrote with Peter Fonda and Terry Southern and directed, followed a pair of truth-seeking bikers (Fonda and Hopper) on a cross-country journey to New Orleans. It won the prize for best first film at the 1969 Cannes Film Festival (though it faced only one competitor, as the critic Vincent Canby pointed out in a tepid 1969 review in The New York Times). Dennis Hopper also shared an Oscar nomination for writing the film, while a nomination for best supporting actor went to a little-known Jack Nicholson.

    Easy Rider introduced much of its audience, if not Hopper, to cocaine, and the films success accelerated a period of intense drug and alcohol use that Dennis Hopper later said nearly killed him and turned him into a professional pariah.



    thanks to NYT,
    Ramblin' Wayn

    31-05-2010 om 19:31 geschreven door Wayn  

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    29-05-2010
    Klik hier om een link te hebben waarmee u dit artikel later terug kunt lezen.THE MESSENGER --- RAMBLIN' WAYN oil on canvas 2002
    THE MESSENGER
    OIL ON CANVAS  120 by 80 cm
    year 2002






    29-05-2010 om 21:19 geschreven door Wayn  

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    27-05-2010
    Klik hier om een link te hebben waarmee u dit artikel later terug kunt lezen.ALEIJADINHO 'The LIttle Cripple' BRAZILAIN BAROQUE ARTIST -- plus short story by WAYN

    Antnio Francisco Lisboa,

    the Aleijadinho (the little cripple), prominent Brazilian artist, was born in 1738 to a Portuguese architect father, Manoel Francisco Lisboa, and his Brazilian slave, Isabel. He died in 1814, in his native state of Minas Gerais, Brazil, poor and unknown. A foremost representative of the Brazilian Baroque, Aleijadinho worked under severe constraints, as he suffered grave physical deformities due to illness (possibly leprosy or syphilis), requiring that his working tools be tied to his hand. Taught mostly by his father, Aleijadinho left an impressive body of religious art: architectural designs and sculptures in churches, convents, and monasteries.

    Aleijadinho lived and worked in the Brazilian state of Minas Gerais. As the name indicated, this was an extremely wealthy mining region, which, at its peak, remitted about 25,000 kilos of gold to Portugal per year. The combination of wealth, the religiosity of its inhabitants, and geographical isolation (Minas is located inland in Brazil and its colonization occurred around two centuries after the coastal area), contributed to the development of a unique sculptural and architectural style, as seen in Aleijadinhos legacy.

    The main body of Aleijadinhos work concentrated in a few important mining towns of his time: Ouro Preto, So Joo del Rei, Sabar, and Congonhas. Combining elements of the Gothic and Renaissance into the language of the Baroque, Aleijadinho developed a powerful artistic language sculpture and architecture blend masterfully in his work. Famous examples of his sculptural work included the life size rendering of 12 prophets, standing on the stairway of Bom Jesus de Matosinhos Church, in the city of Congonhas do Campo. The Churches of San Francis de Assis, in So Joo Del Rei and in Ouro Preto, well illustrated his abilities as an architect.

    Aleijadinho died at 76, poor and forgotten. It was during the 1920s that his art received closer attention, in the context of the Brazilian Modern Art week. He has since been considered a master in his craft and one of the first to contribute to a genuinely Brazilian artistic language. 

    Sources:
    Mirian Andrade Ribeiro de Oliveira, Aleijadinho and Baroque Art in Brazil, in Art and Architecture in Brazil, from Aleijadinho to Niemeyer (Chicago: Illinois Institute of Technology, Department of Architecture, 1984; New York: United Nations Headquarters, 1983); Sunil Bald, In Aleijadinhos Shadow: Writing National Origins in Brazilian Architecture, available at architecture.mit.edu/.../23/bald23/bald23.htm

    Contributor(s):
    Martins, Ana Nina
    Independent Historian



    One of the rare paintings of Aleijadinho



    One of his prophets sculptures EZEQUIEL


    painting by Henrique Bernadelli


    angel


                                                     ========================


    short story by Wayn Pieters

    Congonhas, Minas Gerais, Brazil 1800

    "I must go on, even once, perhaps my last final work!" His eyes could not longer bear the daylight, the little man's body was trembling, while the old working room was lit up by torches. "Master, your are sick, you can't go on, think of your health, por favor!" said the young student Olimpio.
    "Bind the tools to my wrist! I have to complete this work, mankind will be a witness, just as Our lady of Immaculate Conception!" The litlle man yelled.

    Aleijadinho, 62 now, referred to this job the 12 soapstone prophets, which would shine on pilars in front of the church of "Bom Jesus de Matozinhos", and from there to see over the hills. He walked with diffuculty and his feet were dying, his legs and arms were without any feeling. His face was ravaged, his viscous skin yellow and rotten, his theeth were allready disappeared, mucus ran from his mouth and his eyes were dark, undeniable and wet, just suitable to create his last project. The people saw him as a munster, a bantling. They named the disease 'lepra' whom reveal to him at his 47th year. He was born as son of a Portugese architect and a black slave woman Isabel. Some years earlier he made his 64 wooden figures, which represented the Calvary road and the showpiece was the Savior himself in which you could see the veins in his neck throbbing. A masterpiecee. 

    Aleijadinho's arms were like two stumps where his tools were tied to. This way he completed his masterpiece, the pinnacle of the Minas Gerais Baroque architecture. Now he worked like a possessed one on his 12 prophets and it seemed that he putted all his anger and feelings in it. It had to be perfect, because one of the images was his own image: Isaiah, his body resemblance, a selfs-portrait, a little man, a slighly curved body and with pain chiseled on his face. At that time his meal was just a bit of rice and beans, the meal of a man who knew that the end was near. The 12 prophets were his ultimate desire, chiseled out of soapstone with the silhouettes of human shape: Jeremias, Daniel, Joel, Amos, Naum, Abdias, Baruc, Ezequiel, after they say the most pure image, and Jesaja, his spirit. And now he worked on his last prophet, Habacuc.

    "If God's willing!" he screamed fanatical: "If the good LOrd is willing!"
    and his arm-stumps moved with craft-full rhythm. Rain was falling in Congonhas, sweat drippng from his face and tears from eyes. He tought of his youth in Ouro Preto, where he was born, his love for the region, the hills of Minas, his love for art. He cried while finishing his last prophet.

    Antonio Francisco Lisboa, Aleijadinho, died on 18th November 1814, in a shack on the outskirts of Ouro Preto, like a poor hermit.
    rare portrait of unknown artist

    Wayn   (2002 c)

    27-05-2010 om 18:15 geschreven door Wayn  

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    26-05-2010
    Klik hier om een link te hebben waarmee u dit artikel later terug kunt lezen.RAMBLIN' WAYN IN BRAZIL

    'R' Wayn together with a musician named Danillo in a small house concert in Tangu, Rio de Janeiro  dec. 1995







    26-05-2010 om 16:45 geschreven door Wayn  

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    25-05-2010
    Klik hier om een link te hebben waarmee u dit artikel later terug kunt lezen.THE DEATH OF A BLUES SINGER IN SÂO PAULO- SHORT STORY BY RAMBLIN' WAYN part2 & end
    Klik op de afbeelding om de link te volgen







    No coffee for his beloved brother Alves? Out of the question!
    Begging?  He hated. Steal? That was below his standarts and he never steals. It was allready eight o'clock and firmly he stepped to the grocery store of senhor Gonalo where he bought regularly alcohol for his little stove, and the good man, after he heard Wellingtons his story, gave him a bottle on credit. He went back to his wooden hen-house and waited for the arrival of his brother Alves, whom usually would arrive around noon. Meanwhile he had given a bath to Michelangelo and tear out the thick green, full of blood sucked ticks. It was almost half past twelve when a young man appeared. He was dressed in jeans and T-shirt. "Are you Wellington," he asked. "Yes ... and who are you? " Welligton asked uncertain.  "They call me 'contraband'. I am a friend of Alves," said the boy. "Alves? Where is he? Why he didn't come?"
    "Your brother is sick. He sends me tell you this. He told me also that he'll urgently want to see you... He gave me some clothes... put them on and let's go... "
    "Should I go to Sao Paulo?" Wellington asked anxiously.  "Should... is not the real word my friend. Your brother asks for it. Please... He is seriously ill. Vamos! Let's go!"

    And arrived Wellington in Sao Paulo. It was already evening when they reached the place where his brother lived in a house located near the neighborhood Bras. It was an old house, about to collapse. Alves lay on bed in a smelly gloomy room. At the foot of the bed laid his strato Fender guitar. On the ground stood some amplifiers and microphones. He was in bad shape, since the half year Wellington had not seen him. The brothers embraced and wept and Michelangelo the dog howled like a straneg wolf from another planet. The skinny Alves told Wellington that his life was come to a end, as he was infected with the aids virus. The last months his life has been a mess. Injected heroin and felt in love with Madalena a little mulata. It was an addiction and he screwed on regular base other hookers. He had lived as an excessive, a stray wandering desperate outlaw and became infected. That simple? "No!" Wellington shouted: '... Alves do not dying! I love you!"
    "I'll have no way to deny brother. It is "finished", you hear, "acabo". I'm going back to the "jail" of salvation. See, it's my karma, no game-playing, nada! You see brother all was so planned for me, and will be right now, and the band will play: "Lagrimas dos Indios "
    'Indian Tears".
    You remember ... When we were young and listened to the music of Muddy Waters? B. B. King... the blues ... Stevie Ray Vaughan... Frank Zappa...Yes ... The harmonica of ... yes, lembra? Wellington, say it ... "
    "Sonny ... Terry ... Wellington said in a broken voice.  Alves: "... Yes ... Sonny Terry ... All right ... Robert Johnson ... We are all Negroes Wellington; we have the blues, Wellington, our parents and ancestors ... the blues! And I? I played the blues of So Paulo ... the city of blues, misery, injustice ... Wellington? Are you listening, my brother? I've had my share in this fucking world ... but little brother ... Your life, yes, that the life I really wanted to live. Eating from the street. Wellington ... a sincere bare Jackal ... you hear me brother! No whining in your head, no obligations ... And a dog as your best friend, a good friend. Michelangelo. Your karma Wellington is sacred ... Listen, you have to do something for me ... Go to the headwaters of the Xingu river and look for the Txukahami tribe ... Give this letter to Kalia ... Give her my love and tell her that I'll be wait where the rivers meet. And you brother ... drink every week a Pinga on me and our new embrace .. See you my brother ..."
    Wellington cried in his heart when he embraced Alves. Than Alves took a pistol from beneath his pillow and Wellington could not stop him. Michelangelo pricked his one ear when Alves pulled the trigger and shot a bullet through his head. The So Paulo hard-core blues has ended.

    WAYN  

    for brawabooks 2002 (c)

    25-05-2010 om 00:00 geschreven door Wayn  

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    20-05-2010
    Klik hier om een link te hebben waarmee u dit artikel later terug kunt lezen.THE DEATH OF A BLUES SINGER IN SÂO PAULO - SHORT BRAZILIAN STORY BY RAMBLIN' WAYN part1
    Klik op de afbeelding om de link te volgen

    The death of a blues singer in So Paulo

    Wellington lived on the north side of Rio de Janeiro, near Ramos along the Avenida Brasil. He lived to be more specific, on the border. But let me say, along the abyss. Around the corner lay the dump where he got a daily job to collect something to eat. Living, meant between boards. A henhouse. Yes, he had fixed his wooden cabin lately with some old paint that he found at the dump. And damned it was yet a color that pleased him; blood red. Above the entrance to his domain was an iron plate with the vulgar text: 'banheiro', or poophouse. He just awake, turned around on his mattras of carbon and looked at the old clock, wich he had renenewed with a battery yesterday, had a hard fart and yawned. It was still early. Quarter past six, but the sun was already rising. Today, would be an important one, for his brother Alves came to visits him. 

    Every six months Alves. Exactly, without exception. Yes, he knew the data from his head and today was the 13th of september. Alves, his beloved brother was two years younger, forty-one. Alves was famous, (quotes). He was a musician and played in a hardrockband with the bizarre name Irmaos da Cadeia, something like The prison brothers. The music that they played was riddled with 'bluesy"sounds, subject to the deep dark accords. A pure of sounds, which would alarmed the dead in their graves. Yes, Alves kicked regularly against the authority. He was a the treu anarchist and wild with his music, to awake the young Brazilian generation. Regime? Now you have to consider that this is in Brazil as a disaster-stricken mess, and that is why he hated everything what had to do with goverment. Yes, Alves was a outlaw who thought that lines only caused annoyance , and he named this: straitjacket-politics. Therefore, every half-year he visitid Wellington and gave him money and clothing. Often he had offered him to work as a roady, but Wellington would't not say goodbey to his hermit-existence and Alves the hardcorebluesrocker could understand this.

    With his right index finger Wellington shoot some cockroaches out of sight, yawned again, scratching his head, drunk his last sip out of the bottle pinga and crawled out of his shelter, just like a Inuit out of his igloo. The old street dog Michelangelo layed beside his hovel. He was medium-sized white with black spots, he had one ear and no tail. It was the most faithful companion that Wellington had and not a minute Michelangelo departed from his side. Yes, he had called him that way because, when the dog licked his face, he found an an old post card with the work of  the Italian artist. This is the reason. Not that Wellington had the slightest sense of art, but he saw the name and liked him. The Sun was already shining sharply despite the fact that the Brazilian winter was not endid yet and today it would be quite hot. Still half a sleep he stumbled to the water source, where he washed his face. Then he combed his hair, at least he tried, because the old comb made of ox horn, refused sliding through his thick and greasy hair. 'Alves is a coming today from Sao Paulo, ' he thought of happiness and toke Michelangelo by his fore legs and danced in circles. In fact, he should have to beg for alcohol for his small stove, but he was a totaly naive, so he spent his last money to buy a bottle of pinga cachaa, the most ceapest brand '51' (white sugarcane gin) and some cigarettes of the brand Mustang.

    continued


    20-05-2010 om 00:00 geschreven door Wayn  

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    18-05-2010
    Klik hier om een link te hebben waarmee u dit artikel later terug kunt lezen.THE CIRCUS OF THE CAFUZ -SHORT BRAZILIAN STORY TOLD BY WAYN (part 2 -- end)
    Klik op de afbeelding om de link te volgen
    'Esperanda o Zagal' by Antonio Parreiras, oil on canvas 1905 Brazil

    The circus of the cafuz

    ... And it happened on a hot morning that Benedicto left with the circus of Cafuz. The Cafuz took him, after persuaded the old man,  with him. Yes, he could take care for the animals and further jobs. Everything went well, and four years later, Benedicto celebrated his 16th anniversary, he gaved his first kiss to Lailadrinha. She had allready three children by Cafuz: Zumbizinho, Casmira and Tita, two girls. At her fifthteent birthday she was already unflowered by Cafuz: "Once she have to be a woman! ' he had said to his wife Tamari. Benedicto had the year before his sexual debut with Catarina a instinctively detailed whore. Because Cafuz tought the time was right that he became a man. It was a devil-like happening to Benedicto and he was quite confused. Astonished! Because what he saw was a revelation for him. Yes, ... the whore Catarina was certainly beautiful and perfect, and... subsequently he screwed many hookers at places where the circus stopped. But.. It was a year earlier, in his dreams, that Lailadrinha made his cock bloat and gaved it a certain smell. It was an experience that he could not placed. He wanted more intimate dreams and  got his first orgasm. Now he had kissed Lailadrinha, innocent under the palm trees behind the old barn, between chicken and skimmed cattle. He was shy and walked away with a blush on his cheeks. The day after that it was a lips kiss and a depressingly contact, and easily it became a wet tongue kiss. He sought for her breasts, more beautiful than those of the whore Catarina and all the others. He felt a tension in his thigh and his heart beated. He found her vagina, nicer than in his dreams and he penetraded, wild and frenetic. And he was not aware of the bizarre sounds of monkey Utopia who had followed them, and who watched from a tree. Love was intense and a year later Yali was born, this with affection of the Cafuz.

    The following year the Cafuz was killed. It happened in a knives-fight and during the battle he tought on and cried to the the black Madonna. His opponent, a rough  former golddigger  had tried to rape his wife Tamari, who was already unconscious on the ground with a bloody head. He used to defend itself, but the blood tears of the Madonna made him hesitate to kill again. But, on the moment he was ready  to slice through the throat of the rapist he saw the Lady in a flash with red tears. This meant his death. Why did the Madonna does not defend him, after his worthy life? It would always remain a mystery, and sometimes Madonna's are happen to be outlandish creatures.

    The circus continued without the Cafuz and Saikaku the Japenese became the leader, rather he demanded on it.  He was also driven by jealousy, as he had long be eager on the beautiful Lailadrinha and at a given moment he challenged Benedicto for a duel. Everyone tried to prevent this, most Lailadrinha itself. But the Japenese was Samorai who kept his word because he was a descendant of a Sjogoen, a military dictator, and the Japenese Emperor was only a bastard. He had to fight and wanted  finally screw that lovely gypsy woman. But Benedicto was not affraid, only young and inexperienced, and the big knife was not born in his hand. The battle was out of control and the little fat Japenese put his knife on Benedict's throat. Only the intervention of the giant Grando saved his life. The giant grabbed the arm of the Japenes and and pulled him up like a puppet.  He took Saikaku's left leg, turned around four times and swung the Samoerai ten metres further between the cactus shrubs. Saikaku was so angry that he attacked Grando while cursing in Japanese. The giant received him as a broken sock-puppet and stood a moment later with its large foot in the small Japenese-thick neck. The Jap asked for forgiveness and finally it all went off well. But, Saikaku left the circus. He went off south on foot , just muttering about his friends the Xingu Indians. A long trip and rough trip, but he always repeated : "... I am a Samurai, of military nobility, son of the Sjogoen Sanjuro, I am a fighter!" A few days later he was found next to a giant cactus. His heart pierced with his sword. Benedicto was the new leader, although he first refused, but Tamari, the widow of the Cafuz insisted. In this way. They went on, and when they visited Cajari, Benedicto's place of birth, again, his grandfather Deuszinho was deceased.  Benedicto was crying and sad and the same day they went further to the East, towards Ceara.

    "Life is a shadow play. I believe in physical cosmology, human beings are the stars! " spoke Pisgah, a dark man, who one year later joined the circus. He was a philosopher, but could also remain for five minutes under water. He was an attraction, and Benedicto was pleased with the little man, with curved legs, short arms, flat nose and ears like a little elephant. Pisgah said that he was born in Colombia, his father was a black slave who have fled, without his mother who was a slave too. In the meantime, Tamari the women with the oval Tahitian face, seduced the young Benedicto and she took him into her cart. She stripped him of his clothes and putted his penis stanta pede between her pointed tits, and slowly he forgot about the present and the reason. He met the heated tongue of the thirty years older Tamari, for whom he actually had an outspoken respect. She, the former wife of the Cafuz, his mistress. Now he named her lady Tamarinha. Yes, she was small and keen as a strange dark mare and Benedicto enjoined it and she laid him gently beside her and she danced on top of him. She stroked his cock and pushed him inside her, which made him explode between her legs. Lailadrinha was at that point outside the cart and heard the voices of love. She was confused, evil and indulgent at the same time. It was later  that Tamari explained all to her and the little gypsy girl accepted the sharing. And so Benedicto loved two women. The circus gaved his shows in the inlands of the poor country of Ceara and they had success.

    Than came the day  that the gang of the throat-cutter Jorge Pedro attacked their camp which they had built along the Caninde river, situated near by the small village of Pentecosta. The gang consisted of ten men. Men with wrinkle faces, white leather jackets and hats, leather leggings against the thorns, and just like their masters covered with ammunition bags and crucifixen. They kidnapped the fine gypys Lailadrinha and Tamari and nobody could do something about it. Not Pisgah with his intelligentsia and even the giant Grando was powerless in the face of the rifles and revolvers. Laughing on their small desert horses with brilliant leashes and with gold and silver harness and glossy saddle the bandits disappear in to the night. Anger and with tears in his eyes Benedicto sat next to the fire, and the big hand of the giant on his shoulder was no comfort to him. The next day, Pisgah, Benedicto and the giant searched the area, but couldn't find nothing. The bandits were missing just as the substance of the poor dry land. Disappeared along with the jewelry of wimmen's hearts. "Life is hard, but once one day we will find the antidotum, that guarantees re-encounter with the beasts!" spoke Pisgah a little too thoughtful. He he folded his thick fingers together, and knelt in the dust where he spoke words that resembled Chinese.

    The time came, indeed. Five months later, when people told them that te throats-cutter was seen in a small village. He was drunk and spread fear among the people and the police chief did it in his pants from fear of the gang leader. But not Grando who grabbed the revolver of the bandit and bended it like a iro-wire. The throat cutter, and his three fellow contributors were held at gunpoint by Benedicto, Pisgah, Antonio the folksinger and dwarf Pascoal. The giant took the bandit's throat and lifted him  with one hand up in the air, and the butcher gasped for breath. He had to confess where the women were and so Benedicto saw them back They where tied up in a cave between dog and a one-eyed man looked at them, like the women told later, licked them like a jackal like a anti-christian dog. The women were free. The giant broke the neck of the throat-cutter, when he unexpectedly picked up a large knife. The three other bandits were killed and six others flights on their fast horses in to the bushes. Their last rescue was ironic the sertao. The women told their story's of the last few months and the many times that they were screwed by the bandits. Benedicto saw that Tamari had become skinny a skeleton, and her fine pointed breasts were now like udders. Lailadrinha was not much better off and appeared to be a wilted rose.

    The day after Taticus with the tapir head died unexpectedly on a strange disease, in which he spat a green vomit and turned around of pain on his elephant-legs. His nose was trunk-like in the upright position and he was crying over and over. He cried for his misshapen mother somwhere in the woods of the Mato Grosso: "Maezinha, minha ... Maezinha ... to amo ...," and his father the Indian garimpeiro, the diamond-searcher, which he had cursed as a child: "Iranxe ... Iranxe ... meu Paizinho ..." and he asked for forgiveness. Then he received the dead convulsion and laid still with wide open eyes of turquoise. "He went to another world, "said philosopher Pisgah: " ... a world where only people live alike Taticus... A world full of woods, green, rivers, mountains, giant- anteaters, horses, singing snakes, unicorns, elves and gnomes! "

    Once again the circus moved on.


    End

    (c) Wayn ////Brawa-books 2002

    18-05-2010 om 00:00 geschreven door Wayn  

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  • Images of The bleugrass songbook by Dennis Cyporyn 1976
  • O BANDEIRANTE and METAMORFOSE a poem for children by Cassiano Ricardo
  • PARAGUAÇU - WAYN Pieters, Brasil 2009 (oil on board) - Poem by Raquel Naveira
  • NÁ, THE MYSTERIOUS INDIAN WOMAN - a short story AS TOLD by Wayn Pieters -END
  • NÁ, THE MYSTERIOUS INDIAN WOMAN - a short story AS TOLD by Wayn Pieters PART 1 OF 2
  • paintings ANTONIO PARREIRAS MUSEUM PART 2 -potret and naked woman
  • VISIT AT THE 'ANTONIO PARREIRAS' MUSEA, NITEROI, RJ BRAZIL 22 SEPT. 2009 PART1
  • ANTONIO PARREIRAS - BRAZILIAN PAINTER part 3 'His Atelier' (Studio) 22 september 2009
  • TRAVIS LOUIE -UNTITLED [; N.Y
  • SCOTT G BROOKS - SURREAL PAINTINGS
  • GRAFFITI IN ITABORAI, RJ, BRASIL
  • COCA-WHORE -- nut &can [[[ WAYN - belo horizonte, Brasil
  • I MUST BE CRUEL ONLY TO BE KIND - RAMBLIN' WAYN
  • ANTONIO PARREIRAS - BRAZILIAN PAINTER
  • PAUL GAUGUIN 1848-1903
  • RAMBLIN' BABY
  • BRAZILIAN WOMEN - charcoal on paper WAYN 2009
  • DOC WATSON
  • ROBERT CRAIG sur-real
  • HELL, FREEDOM AND LIFE
  • 60 JOSEFINA--- RAMBLIN' WAYN OIL ON CANVAS
  • CHRIT JAMIN, MAASTRICHT, NETHERLANDS OIL PAINTINGS & GOUACHES
  • INDIAN NECKLACE NORTHEAST BRAZIL & CARVING OUT OF JACARANDA WOOD BRAZIL
  • PORQUE, MEU AMOR? (why, MY love?) 2004 Wayn oil on board
  • SURUI GIRL oil on wood 60+60 WAYN 2009
  • I RECALL A GIPSY WOMAN & IANSÁ RAMBLIN' WAYN PAINTINGS
  • TARSILA DO AMARAL BRAZIL MODERNISM - PAINTINGS
  • CARIOCA NA CAMA -OIL ON CANVAS 70/50 CM 2000 WAYN
  • DETAIL FROM 'PAPAGAIO' OIL ON CANVAS WAYN P 2006
  • WINDMOLEN (WINDMILL) OIL ON BOARD 1934 - PIERRE PIETERS (1920) MAASTRICHT, NETHERLANDS
  • BRAZILIAN ART IN 3 DIRECTIONS
  • BLUESMAN
  • STORY OF THE TWO BROTHERS - TOLD BY NAVAJOS OF NEW MEXICO AND ARIZONA
  • JOS KREBBEKS 'Ramblin' Wayn' 1983
  • OCTAVIO OCAMPO ++++ SURREAL-PAINTINGS
  • CHEYENNE LIFE IN THE OLD TIME as told by CHIEF HIAMOVI (HIGH CHIEF)
  • 'CIGARA BETWEEN ITAIPÚ BONES' - COMPILATION oil on tile/bones/insect Ramblin' Wayn 2009
  • The story of the first mother -- Wabanakis ( Children of the dawn-country) tribe
  • IS EVERY HUMAN'S LIFE WRITTEN BY GOD'S FINGERS?
  • NASHVILLE - DARK END OF THE STREET 1979
  • HONKY-TONK HEROES photographs by Raeanna Rubinstein 1975
  • HANK WILLIAMS ---THE DRIFTER --pictures
  • VOODOO OF LOMÉ, TOGO ----------PART 1
  • WINNEBAGO TRIBE __ STORIES OF WAK-CHUNG-KAKA, THE FOOLISCH ONE
  • RED SOVINE 'GIDDY-UP-GO' 1965 - A YOUNG RAMBLER SOMWHERE IN NASHVILLE 1979
  • painting by B. ISMALLOVITCH 1946 RIO DE JANEIRO
  • THA LAST BUFFALO "SEM EPOCA" (Without age) 1985 oil on wood ramblin' wayn
  • XAVANTE BLUES by WAYN (paintings)
  • ANDREAS GASCHLER SURREAL PAINTINGS
  • AUGUST MACKE 1887-1914 GERMAN EXPESSIONIST PAINTER
  • ALTAR DEDICATED TO THE CABOCLOS AND PRETO VELHOS ----HOUSE OF THE VIKING
  • IRLANDESA ----CHALK ON PAPER - WAYN 2008
  • Ramblin' Wayn paintings
  • GUARANI - oil on board Wayn Pieters 2008
  • T.T HALL 1973 ALBUM 'THE RHYMER'
  • ALIANS? OBJECTS...
  • MY WAY (N) PAINTINGS
  • ramblin' wayn paintings
  • Who crucified my Lord? + Mulher------ RWayn -----drawing
  • 'CAVALO BRANCO' ----RAMBLIN' WAYN DRAWING
  • 'OCA '' PAINTING BY RW
  • RAMBLIN' 'KID' WAYN IN THE U.S.A 1979
  • LEADBELLY GALLERY
  • PICASSO BOOK 'YANKEE NOMAD'
  • HANK WILLIAMS LP-COVER METRO-REC. 1971
  • THE DEATHLESS ONE AND THE WIND - MOJAVE APACHES
  • PAINTING OF BRAZILIAN COMPOSER VILLA-LOBOS
  • THE MOJAVE-APACHES -SHORT STORY: THE FIRST WOMAN WHO MADE THE SON OF GOD
  • WALL_ART IN NITEROI BRAZIL
  • ELDORADO - CROW Two Ramblin' Wayn paintings
  • FOTOS VAN CLAUDE LÉVI-STRAUS 1934 BRASIL
  • Hank Williams - Ramblin' Wayn


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