::17.7.03::
Amanhã (já hoje) é o dia. Vou pra faca, tirar meu ovário podre, ou pelo menos parte dele. Um monte de gente já me ligou, outros tantos mandaram e-mail, falei com meu pai, minha tia e meu tio ontem, todos devidamente avisados. Minhas melhores amigas de plantão, minha mãe também, isso tá melhor do que festa de aniversário!!! Estou super ansiosa pra tudo acabar logo, eu voltar pra casa, ficar boa, sair pra dançar e quem sabe, de repente, encontrar o meu jaquetinha do Cine Íris (písica total) como uma "nova mulher"?! Sim, porque muuuuita coisa vai mudar, ah se vai. E pra melhor, lógico. Estou numa empolgação só! AInda por cima vou emagrecer alguns quilinhos só de não poder comer porcaria, olha que coisa boa?!!!
Sei lá quando eu volto pro computador, mas tenho uma pilha de livros e filmes loucos para serem devorados. Entonces...¡Hasta!
:: Marcia Furriel 1:04 a.m.
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"...[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
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