:: Mardoux Mardoux... ::

::18.11.03:: POOLS OF SORROW, WAVES OF JOY ARE DRIFTING THROUGH MY OPENED MIND Como anda perigoso nesses dias de hoje ouvir Beatles assim, como quem nada quer, resolvi ouvir as versões. Tem algumas que eu gosto bastante, como Stevie cantando “ We can work it out”, ou todo o cd da Sarah Vaughan, Songs of the Beatles, ou o fofo do Bobby McFerrin cantando “ From me to You”. Claro, claro, o que seria de mim sem meu amigo querido, fornecedor recifense de todas essas fitinhas que eu amo tanto???? Volte logo à vida virtual, nego. Mas o assunto era mesmo as versões, e a de hoje vem a ser essa, com David Bowie cantando cheio de raça. Maaaais uma letra que nunca tinha pensado em ler com cuidado, e que hoje fez um novo e intrigante sentido. Esses meninos de Liverpool me matam. Across the Universe Lennon/McCartney Words are flowing out like endless rain into a paper cup They slither wildly as they slip away Across the universe Pools of sorrow, waves of joy are drifting through my opened mind Possessing and caressing me Nothing's gonna change my world Nothing's gonna change my world Nothing's gonna change my world Nothing's gonna change my world Images of broken light which dance before me like a million eyes They call me on and on Across the universe Thoughts meander like the restless wind inside a letter box They tumble blindly as they make their way Across the universe Nothing's gonna change my world Nothing's gonna change my world Nothing's gonna change my world Nothing's gonna change my world Sounds of laughter, shades of life are ringing through my open ears Inciting and inviting me Limitless undying love, which shines around me like a million suns It calls me on and on and on Across the universe Nothing's gonna change my world Nothing's gonna change my world Nothing's gonna change my world Nothing's gonna change my world Nothing's gonna change my world Nothing's gonna change my world Nothing Nothing Nothing Nothing's gonna Nothing's gonna change my world Nothing :: Marcia Furriel 5:29 p.m. [+] :: ... Comments: Enviar um comentário

[::..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..::]