::5.12.03::
MÚSICA DE HOJE
Lembrei agora: o filme, Almost Famous. A cena, quando o menininho do nariz perfeito vai dizer para Penny Lane que a ama. Ele diz (eu acho) e ela entra em coma alcoólico. Ele então chama um médico, cuida dela, faz de tudo para que ela não morra...Tudo ao som do Stevie Wonder, cantando My Cherie Amour.
Isn´t THAT romantic?
My Cherie Amour
Stevie Wonder
La la la la la la, La la la la la la
My cherie amour, lovely as a summer day
My cherie amour, distant as the milky way
My cherie amour, pretty little one that I adore
You're the only girl my heart beats for
How I wish that you were mine
In a cafe or sometimes on a crowded street
I've been near you, but you never noticed me
My cherie amour, won't you tell me how could you ignore
That behind that little smile I wore
How I wish that you were mine
La la la la la la, La la la la la la
La la la la la la, La la la la la la
Maybe someday, you'll see my face amoung the crowd
Maybe someday, I'll share your little distant cloud
Oh, cherie amour, pretty little one that I adore
You're the only girl my heart beats for
How I wish that you were mine
La la la la la la, La la la la la la
La la la la la la, La la la la la la
:: Marcia Furriel 5:03 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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