::2.9.03::
ATÉ QUE NEM TANTO ESOTÉRICO ASSIM...
Eu não aguento mais esse frio do Rio de Janeiro...Hoje finalmente adquiri a gripe da estação, e além de ter levado injeção, ainda estou à base de trimedais, chás e afins. Isso tudo com a cabeça pulsante e olhando para a tela do computador, non stop. Uma imagem desoladora da minha pessoa. Mas tudo bem, ainda estamos na terça-feira, tudo vai melhorar!!!
Cada vez mais passa o tempo em que temos Pops conosco, e é bom quando a gente faz uma girl’s night só para botar as fofocas TODAS em dia. Adorei, meninas! E adorei o macarrão, Paulinha. Mais uma coisa para sentir falta, hahahahahah.
Hoje vim ouvindo mais uma vez Caetano em Fina Estampa, no carro. Fiquei com muita vontade de colar aqui a letra de “Ay, Amor”, que é liiinda, mas lembrei que o Pentimento já fez isso, alguns dias (semanas?) atrás. Aliás, dias de chuva são propícios para as letras de música nos blogs, e poemas, e pequenos contos, e desabafos de solidão, nostalgia ou apenas quietude. Esses dias cinzas não têm sido tão tristes quanto eu imaginei, nem nostálgicos. São só aqueles pequenos e irritantes momentos em que dá um ataque, e logo imagino um edredon, uma janela fechadinha com gotas de chuva e bastante “espaço” para desenhos com dedos, uma tarde inteira de ócio, um cd player ao lado da cama e um amor. Pequeninos momentos. Mas estes me fazem toda hora lembrar de outra música...
Stormy Weather
Harold Arlen/ ed Koehler
*versão especialmente cantada por Etta James*
Don't know why
There's no sun up in the sky
stormy weather
since my man and I ain't together
Keeps raining all the time.
My life is bare, gloom and misery everywhere, stormy weather.
I just can't get my poor self together
I'm weary all the time, so weary all the time.
Since he went away the blues walked in & bit me.
If he stays away
Oh a rockin' chair's gonna get me
All I do is pray the lord above's gona let me
Walk in the sun, once more,
I can't go one everything I had is gone
Stormy weather
Since my man and I aint' together
It's rainin' all the time.
Keeps rainin' all the time.
Since he went away
The blues walked in and bit me
If he stays away, oh a rockin chair's gonna get me
All I do is pray the lord above's gona let me
Walk in the sun, once more,
I can't go one everything I had is gone
Stormy weather…
Since my man and I aint' together.
It's rainin' all the time.
Keeps rainin' all the time…
:: Marcia Furriel 5:29 p.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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