::11.2.04::
...E AGRADOS
Começou a leva dos presentes. Me dei o primeiro hoje, o tal famoso dvd do Frank que eu já cobiçava no ano passado. Assisti com as mulheres da casa, e fiz um pequeno esforcinho para não chorar, quando rolou o dueto Frank+Ella, Goin’ Out of My Head (over you). Divino, maravilhoso. Vou assistir de novo agora, e tentar dormir. Tenho pilhas de livros para estudar, um grande monstro pra encarar e um restinho de dias ruins para viver. Não estão sendo tão ruins assim também...I’ve got life, mama! Queria ser uma figurante de Hair, o filme. No entanto, cortando a onda da Etta, colo aqui a Rita, pra mostrar aí pros moços que eu não ando cultivando maus humores, but...
Ando Jururu
Rita Lee
E pensar que eu passei todo esse tempo
Investindo no meu know-how
E pensar que eu quase me danei
Apostando no meu background
Eu ando jururu
I don't know what to do
Quero encontrar pelo caminho
Um cogumelo de zebu
E descansar os meus olhos no pasto
Descarregar esse mundo das costas
Eu só quero fazer parte do backing vocal
E cantar o tempo todo
"Shoobeedoodaudau"
:: Marcia Furriel 2:52 a.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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