07.02.17 - Se acercar vira hospício, se cobrir vira circo

Halloooo,

Building work continues merrily on overhead, so I write to you a from a nearby café - to be honest it's not much quieter here (there's a guy making endless smoothies just yards away) but at least I have some kind of agency over my surroundings... 

On Sunday Gaby and I went to a possibly-monthly gathering of musical types in a Zona Sul studio, where I unleashed weeks of pent-up dog-and-building-related rage on the drums, as my colleagues worked their way through a grunge-based repertoire.  It's slightly bizarre how whenever two or more men are gathered together with guitars over here, then they will earnestly emote to "Black" by Pearl Jam; I also had to quickly remember how to Grohl along to "Aneurysm" by Nirvana.  In any case, good fun was had by all.

Earlier in the week Gaby and Patricia pitched their psych wares to the latter's former company, which I'm told went quite well.   On Saturday we went to a tapas bar on fashionable Rua Augusta, complete with kilos of jamón dangling from the roof-beams, for a masters-er's birthday party, followed by another brisk walk through the Horto Florestal the following morning (no monkeys this time though, and the capybaras seem to have been evicted).

I have made another compilation for your ears only, and my phrase of the week - "if you put a wall round it, it's an asylum; if you put a roof on it, it's a circus" - snidely refers to the nation's political establishment in Brasilia, and of course could be applied to any number of administrations at the moment. 

And I'm spent... 

Fredders