::24.7.03::
DELÍRIOS CONSUMISTAS NA MADRUGADA
Presentes que eu preciso ganhar e sei que NINGUÉM vai me dar:
1- Uma máquina fotográfica digital de, no mínimo, 4 megapixels, Nikon;
2- A coleção completa dos show do Frank Sinatra em dvd;
3- O livro Carlos&Mario, das correspondências entre CDA e Mário de Andrade, que custa 190 reais, no barato;
4- A caixa dos cds do Vinícius de Moraes;
5- A caixa do Caetano;
6- Um laptop chiquéerrimo (bem, eu queria um I-Book, mas quem disse que eu sei brincar de macintosh???);
7- O dvd de HAIR;
8- A caixa com 16 cds da Ella Fitzgerald que eu vi na Modern Sound, que ANTIGAMENTE custava 16x60 reais;
9- O vestido de bolinhas tom pastel da Zara que era a cara da Carrie, de Sex & the City;
10- A antologia poética do Fernando Pessoa (essa é até que barata, mas ninguém vai me dar anyway).
Bem.... Que eu me lembre, é isso. Pouca coisa, quase nada...Afe, deu até água na boca.
:: Marcia Furriel 3:58 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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| [::.. perfil sarcástico..::] |
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