::6.2.04::
ENTÃO, SERIA TUDO UMA QUESTÃO DE TIMING?
Eu juro que pensei nisso algum dia, mas agora passei a desacreditar. Com vocês, Cole Porter (cantado por Ella & Frank, naquele dvd que eu ainda vou ter).
It's All RIght With Me
Cole Porter
It's the wrong time and the wrong place
Though your face is charming, it's the wrong face
It's not her face, but such a charming face
That it's all right with me
It's the wrong song in the wrong style
Though your smile is lovely, it's the wrong smile
It's not her smile, but such a lovely smile
So it's all right with me
You can't know how happy I am that we've met
I'm strangely attracted to you
There's someone I'm trying so hard to forget
Don't you want to forget someone, too?
It's the wrong game with the wrong chips
Though your lips are tempting, they're the wrong lips
They're not her lips, but they're such tempting lips
That if some night you're free
Dear, it's all right
Yes, it's all right with me
:: Marcia Furriel 6:46 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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