:: Mardoux Mardoux... ::

::7.4.04:: ..WASTING TIME Tenho ouvido um monte de coisa nova e boa, graças à benção do SOULSEEK. Meu hd tá parecendo um sacolão, eu vou só entulhando de mp3s e ouvindo quando posso, discos inteiros a minha disposição. Novos Mingus, novos Birds, novas e antigas Ella's, só pra variar. E alguma modernidade, como as do Nirvana que eu baixei só pra ver se me tocavam de alguma maneira...Não rolou, época errada. Até admiro as letras do Kurt, mas não me tocam assim. Vai ver eu já era chata demais em 94. Minha atual fixação deu-se de ontem pra hoje, quando descobri que a música que ganhei do Will não era do tal Detroit Cobras (apesar da boa versão), mas sim do Otis Redding. COMO OTIS REDDING NÃO ESTÁ NAS MINHAS INSPIRAÇÕES, disse eu??? Como não clasificar These Arms of Mine como uma das músicas de maior sofrimento que eu já ouvi na vida??? Como não passar uma madrugada inteira baixando TUDO que posso, só pra satisfazer meus ouvidos carentes de um pouco, um pouco não, de muito Soul. Como não desejar mais alguns "oooooh baby" nessas horas da madrugada??? GRANDES ironias da vida... Come to Me Redding/Walden Come to me for I'm lonely Come to me for I'm lonely, darling Come to me and be my girl For I love, love you so Come to me forget the past Think of life we have ahead, my my my my baby Come to me and be my girl For I love, love, love you so, oh now Day are getting so lonely, yeah now Life are getting so blue Time has come for you and I To get together and we'll make two, my my my my babe Come to me for I'm begging Come to me for I'm begging, darling Come to me and be my girl For I love, love, love you so, yeah Come on now baby Baby I'm down Said I'm down my knees, oh I need me someone, now Said I need some love Just to stand right by me, oh You know that these arms of mine They have been lonely Lonely so long But I know, but I know, I know what my heart needs I know just what my heart needs :: Marcia Furriel 3:06 a.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..::]