::19.11.03::
GOODBYE, RUBY TUESDAY
Passeando pelas lyrics...Estranho como me importo mais, ou melhor, me entendo mais com as letras que eu conheço em inglês. Sei lá, vai ver é só coincidência mesmo (sic), ou então momentos, ou mesmo falta de ufanismo. Sei lá. Hoje vim ouvindo até o meio do caminho o Amplified Heart, mais uma vez. Não deu, não deu...Alguma coisa me disse que a terça-feira não podia começar assim. Botei Madonna e fui animando o trajeto, para encarar mais um dia de labuta. Hoje correu tudo bem, enfim. Sobrevivi a DUAS horas de engarrafamento até a minha casa ontem, dois patinhos atropelados no caminho (não por mim, graaaças ao Buda), um pneu furado e um quase aquecimento geral do carro. Cheguei em casa com um grande nó na garganta, uma tensão intensa, daquelas que você não pode mais pronunciar palavra. É horrível não ter mais vontade de falar com ninguém, não querer mais nada, só comer e dormir, e ficar horas sufocando choro no chuveiro quente, mesmo com o calor nababesco da cidade. Whatever, somos crescidas, escolhemos essa vida e não outra, e não há de ser por muito mais tempo...
Depois voltei às letras, às músicas que me dizem coisas, no silêncio do carro, no silêncio dos meus poucos minutos antes de apagar a noite, no silêncio de agora e dos dias em que eu nada sei. I still haven´t got over it even now. Mas a gente vai levando, não é, garotas?
RollerCoaster
EBTG
I still haven't got over it even now.
I want to spend huge amounts of time on my own.
I don't want to cause any serious damage.
I want to make sure that I can manage,
because I'm not really in your head,
I'm not really in your head.
And I see love and disaffection
and the clouds build up and won't pass over.
This is my road to my redemption.
And my life is just an image of a rollercoaster anyway.
I still haven't got over it even now.
I want to spend huge amounds of time in my room.
And I'm not coming out until I feel ready,
not running out for a while my heart's unsteady,
and I'm not really in your head.
I'm not really in your head.
When you sky falls to minus zero,
well some things must dissappear.
Oh this is my road to my redemption.
And my life is just an image of a rollercoaster anyway.
The names may have been changed but the faces are the same
The names may have been changed but as people we're not the same.
And I'm not, no I'm not, no I'm not
really in your head.
And my life is just an image of a rollercoaster anyway.
Yeah, my life is just an image of a rollercoaster anyway.
:: Marcia Furriel 5:51 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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