::23.12.03::
MAIS DO MESMO
Natal é isso aí. Engarrafamentos, hipocrisia, comida em excesso, com uma pitad de esperança e fé em qualquer coisa que seja no final. Aliás, o final é a melhor parte, aquela em que você vê que todo o seu saldo bancário valeu o sorriso mediano da sua irmã, ou o desapego total da sua mãe para aquele livro do Fernando Sabino que você tanto se emocionou. Mas....como diria a Simone, então é Natal. Vou descansar, dormir, comer e comer. E afinal de contas, faltam só 6 dias para 2004!!!!!
PAra fechar o momento natalino "só amor", um trechinho só, da única música que consigo me lembrar nesses dias:
God is a concept
By which we measure
Our pain
I'll say it again
God is a concept
By which we measure
Our pain
John Lennon, diretamente do poço de sarcasmo, LIVE.
:: Marcia Furriel 11:54 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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