::17.12.03::
PROM NIGHT – PRIMEIRA PARTE
(dedicado ao comentarista Arlindo)
As meninas estavam mesmo agitadas. Trancadas nós cinco no quarto, mesmo com meu espelho gigante de moldura rosa chá, era uma briga violenta para ver quem ia se maquiar primeiro. Muitos gritinhos, laquê, bob´s, batons, blushes, cintinhos, sapatilhas, anáguas, meias de seda, corpetes ajustadíssimos! Resolvemos cada uma fazer nossos vestidos de cores diferentes. Tinha lilás, rosa, vermelho e um azul petróleo. O meu, pérola, para combinar com a cor negra da minha pele. Decote canoa, com meus ombros parcialmente nus, e as saboneteiras proeminentes, do jeito que ele gostava. Na cara, só mesmo um blush de menina-moça, coisa de menina direita, e para dar uma coradinha na hora “h”. Sapatos, ok, bolsinha, ok, a margarida que ele me deu pra colocar no pulso, ok. Quase 8 horas! Já está chegando, já, já chega...As meninas continuam correndo de um lado pro outro, trocando maquiagens, roubando os pentes e os vidros de gel, gritando, chorando, gargalhando. Um ronco de motor lá fora, buzinadas, eu olho no relógio (e depois no espelho), ajeito as bochechas, o decote e as meias, abro a janela, suspiro e sorrio: é ELE!!!
*Sobe a música*
Baby Love
The Supremes
Ooh baby love, my baby love
I need you, oh how I need you
But all you do is treat me bad
Break my heart and leave me sad
Tell me, what did I do wrong
To make you stay away so long
'Cause baby love, my baby love
Been missing ya, miss kissing ya
Instead of breaking up
Let's do some kissing and making up
Don't throw our love away
In my arms why don't you stay
Need ya, need ya
Baby love, ooh, baby love
Baby love, my baby love
Why must we seperate, my love
All of my whole life through
I never loved no one but you
Why you do me like you do
I get this need
Ooh, ooh, need to hold you
Once again, my love
Feel your warm embrace, my love
Don't throw our love away
Please don't do me this way
Not happy like I used to be
Loneliness has got the best of me
My love, my baby love
I need you, oh how I need you
Why you do me like you do
After I've been true to you
So deep in love with you
Baby, baby, ooh 'til it's hurtin' me
'Til it's hurtin' me
Ooh, baby love
Don't throw our love away
Don't throw our love away
:: Marcia Furriel 6:59 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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