::28.9.03::
MIDNIGHT NA CINELÂNDIA
Sessão da meia-noite, ROCKY HORROR PICTURE SHOW. Lá fui eu, toda de preto, de bota de bombeiro e cabelo preso, no melhor estilo "vou para pagar mico". Encontrei Name na fila, pegamos um bom lugar, começou. Luiz Salem e mais algum outro viadinho fizeram a introdução, começando a baixaria. Teve treino de " Time Warp", gritos da platéia, frasezinhas decoradas pra gritar nas horas certas. Não levei o arroz nem o isqueiro, mas tinha um celular pra brilhar e o jornalzinho da mostra para a cena da chuva.
O filme começa, histeria. Aquela bocona vermelha cantando, neguinho batendo palmas, o som altíssimo, como deveria ser. O resto do filme todo foi muuuuuuuuito legal! Teve arroz, água, jornal para se cobrir da chuva, cartas ao vento, gritos de ASSHOLE e as músicas todas, que eu cantei. Ah sim, e a COREOGRAFIA!!!! Momento único na vida: quando mais eu teria a chance de pagar um mico desses no cinema, em pé, no balcão, cantando E dançando " let?s do the time warp agaaaaaaaain!". Nunca. Não, nunca mais.
Mas foi maravilhoso!!!!!!!! Pena que ninguém gravou em vídeo...eu acho. E lá se foi, mais um "tick" na minha to do list da vida.
:: Marcia Furriel 2:57 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..::] |
 |
|
