::6.8.03::
JUST A LONESOME,
JUST A LONESOME,
JUST A LONESOME BABE IN THE WOODS
OHH, LADY BE GOOD!
Pro meu amigo Name, eu sou a sua ídala! Eu morro de inveja dele, mas não vou babar o ovo porque eu também GOSTO DE BRINCAR DE MÁ AMIGA, viu????
Ele era um dos presentes do fatídico dia da SuperBrazooka, evento jaquetinha, coisa e tal. Contei pra ele ontem, do (quase) desfecho da história e ele praticamente se escandalizou com o andamento da coisa. Mas o melhor de tudo é que ele me acha a Rainha do Vôo do Dragão, e ele nem imagina a grande piada que sou...Né, querido? Para alguns outros, é bom manter a imagem, pelo menos para curtir uma fama. Já me deram fama de TANTAS coisas na vida que eu nem me importo mais.
Agora ele resolveu me dar MAIS inveja e vai atacar de DJ, junto com outros amiguinhos. Me encheeeeu o saco para eu divulgar o evento aqui no trabalho mas eu me recuso a convidar pseudo-globais, já que eles nem iriam até o Catete mesmo. Mas como eu acabo sendo sempre uma AMIGUINHA SUPER LEGAL, aí vai o link do novo BLOG divulgador. A festa vai se chamar SOUNDTRACK, vai ser em setembro, SOMENTE músicas de trilhas sonoras, e eu, claro, vou estar lá me esbaldando ao som de Bee Gees, algum disco da vida e o que mais vier de bom.
:: Marcia Furriel 8:02 p.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..::] |
 |
|
