:: Mardoux Mardoux... ::

::13.2.04:: ANFITRIANIZANDO Cada dia descubro coisas novas. O racionalismo e seu conceito...blá blá, por exemplo. Nunca estudei algo tão interessante e coerente assim na faculdade. Descubro também novos(as) visitantes. Muito, muito estranho tudo isso. Meu blog é meu cantinho de horrores, meu laguinho de Narciso, como diria o amigo Mancha. Mas é meu e ninguém tasca. E agradeço muito pelos elogios, para toda essa coisa estranha que coloco por aqui. Para as minhas amigas Renata e Anne, sobreviventes da Curicica, um grande beijo. Para todas as amigas que gostam do Laguinho, outros beijos. Para os amigos, ex-amigos e ex-qualquer coisa (é isso aí, rapaz, é com você), agradeço também, pela frequência calada. Estou numa nova fase, carente/feliz, talvez porque a minha atual carência está sendo bastante suprida: amigas, amigos e música. De resto, eu quero é côco. E que venha o carnaval que eu vou sambar, atenção, eu VOU SAMBAR muito, e ainda vou ver se descolo uma melindrosinha pra sair pelas ruas da Lapa. A fantasia, eu digo. haha :: Marcia Furriel 11:42 p.m. [+] :: ... Comments: Enviar um comentário

[::..perfil..::] "...[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 [::.. perfil sarcástico..::]