::27.11.03::
TAKE MY BREATH AWAAAAAAAAAAAAAY
Estou aguardando o tempo passar vendo Top Gun no telecine. TOP GUN! Tom Cruise, no auge da sua tortidão, aquele nariz indescritivelmente torto e sem personalidade. Mas não há mais nada a dizer sobre esse filme. QUentin Tarantino, em aparição especial no filmeco Sleep With Me, disse tudo:
"Top Gun is fucking great. What is Top Gun? You think it's a story about a bunch of fighter pilots. [Duane: It's about a bunch of guys waving their dicks around.] It is a story about a man's struggle with his own homosexuality. It is! That is what Top Gun is about, man.
You've got Maverick, all right? He's on the edge, man. He's right on the fucking line, all right? And you've got Iceman, and all his crew. They're gay, they represent the gay man, all right? And they're saying, go, go the gay way, go the gay way. He could go both ways..."
O monólogo completo em http://www.godamongdirectors.com/scripts/sleep.shtml. Imperdível!
Fuckin' A, man!
N. DA R.: NUNCA me liguei, mas Meg Ryan também faz esse filme!!! Djísus! Estamos todos ficando muito velhos.
:: Marcia Furriel 11:01 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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