:: Mardoux Mardoux... ::

Laguinho narcisístico virtual, privado, de caráter auto-analítico/sarcástico/emocional.
:: Seja bem vindo ao Mardoux Mardoux... :: bloghome:: contato:: ::
[::.. inspirações..::]
[::..buscando inspirações..::]

Letras de Música




by letras.mus.br

[::..recomenda-se..::]
:: google [>]
:: IMDB-USA[>]
:: The Brunching Shuttlecocks[>]
:: Enenation[>]
[::..arquivos..::]

::25.4.03::
Acabou...Mas já me enfiei na internet pra procurar o dvd e surpresa: não é uma fortuna!!!! Custa 35 reais na SOM LIVRE.com, e é lá mesmo que eu vou. O pior é que já vi essa capa de dvd milhões de vezes, mas comprar dvd do Frank assim de bobeira nunca rolou. Agora vai ser meu primeiro dinheirinho gasto de maio:-)))))

E voltando a ela, a internet, descubro que há um momento mágico no ar: Ella Fitzgerald faz aniversário hoje, dia 25 de abril (nasceu em 1917). Nada mais justo do que uma intensa sessão de mp3s comemorativas!!!!

E viva a falta de sono!!!
E viva as lindas vozes:-) E as lindas letras:-)


:: Marcia Furriel 2:04 a.m.


[+] ::
...

[::..perfil..::]

"...[R]eturning to the Red Drum for sets, to hear Bird, whom I saw distinctly digging Mardou several times also myself directly into my eye looking to search if I was really the great writer I thought myself to be as if he knew my thoughts and ambitions or remembered me from other night clubs and other coasts, other Chicagos--not a challenging look but the king and founder of the bop generation at least the sound of it in digging his audience digging his eyes, the secret eyes him-watching, as he just pursed his lips and let great lungs and immortal fingers work, his eyes separate and interested and humane, the kindest jazz musician there could be while being and therefore naturally the greatest--watching Mardou and me in the infancy of our love and probably wondering why, or knowing it wouldn't last, or seeing who it was would be hurt, as now, obviously, but not quite yet, it was Mardou whose eyes were shining in my direction, though I could not have known and now do not definitely know--except the one fact, on the way home, the session over the beer in the Mask drunk we went home on the Third Street bus sadly through night and throb knock neons and when I suddenly leaned over her to shout something further (in her secret self as later confessed) her heart leapt to smell the "sweetness of my breath" (quote) and suddenly she almost loved me--"

DO LIVRO
The Subterraneans
[::.. perfil sarcástico..::]
Tina the Troubled Teen
This page is powered by Blogger. Isn't yours?