::13.12.03::
OOOH BABY!
Um dia desses aí, há alguns anos atrás, resolvi fazer uma fitinha (num tempo onde não haviam gravadores de cds e nem mp3s disponíveis) só com músicas que tivessem a palavra Baby. Comecei com Baby, I love Your Way, Peter Frampton, especialmente por ser essa uma das músicas da minha vida (quem sabe, sabe). Pulei para Smokey Robinson & The Miracles (era na minha época aficcionada por Motown também, you know...) cantando Ohh Baby, Baby. Depois tinha Baby, I need your lovin´ (trilha sonora internacional, novela Sol de Verão, ESSA EU VI!), e por aí foi...É uma das palavras que eu mais gosto de ouvir em inglês, especialmente nas músicas. E hoje, coincidentemente (ou não...), estava lendo no Globo sobre o novo livro de Caetano, aquele aonde ele explica a razão de 200 de suas letras. Presente de Natal, COM CERTEZA! E no jornal ele diz que Baby foi a primeira música brasileira a conter essa palavra, e a ter uma palavra em inglês. Em se tratando de Caetano, há de se desconfiar. E eu mesma acho que deve ter havido alguma outra música, alguma outra palavra. Anyway, Baby (do Caetano) estava também na minha fitinha, assim como essa daqui, que inicia a overdose de BABIES que eu vou postar nesse blog.
Dedicated To The One I Love
Pauling-Bass
While I'm far away from you my baby
I know it's hard for you my baby
Because it's hard for me my baby
And the darkest hour is just before dawn
Each night before you go to bed my baby
Whisper a little prayer for me my baby
And tell all the stars above
This is dedicated to the one I love
(love can never be exactly like we want it to be)
I could be satisfied knowing you love me
(and there's one thing I want you to do
especially for me)
And it's something that everybody needs
While I'm far away from you my baby
Whisper a little prayer for me my baby
Because it's hard for me my baby
And the darkest hour is just before dawn
If there's one thing I want you to do especially for me
Then it's something that everybody needs
Each night before you go to bed my baby
Whisper a little prayer for me my baby
And tell all the stars above
This is dedicated to the one I love
This is dedicated to the one I love
This is dedicated to the one I love
This is dedicated to the one I love
:: Marcia Furriel 3:14 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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