::28.5.04::
BRITNEY E EUWith a taste of your lips I'm on a ride
You are toxic gun slippin' under
With a taste of a poison paradise
I'm addicted to you
Don't you know that you're toxic?
And I love what you do
Don't you know that you're toxic?
Juntar Fernando Pessoa com Britney Spears, isso é que dá! Mas o fato é que a moça com cara de empregadinha loura conseguiu me fazer gostar dela, at last. Já não fosse o fato de que ela saiu por aí dizendo que "deu mesmo e daí?!", uma coisa assim, Angélica de ser, ela me sai com essa música que, além de ser altamente rebolativa e dançável, tem um clipe monstro passando na MTV, coisa de profissional, e obviamente produção supimpa (como eu também teria, se tivesse alguns milhões na conta). Mas o mérito é mesmo da garota, e agora que eu fui buscar a letra gostei ainda mais! Deu até pra pensar em sair hoje a noite, procurar um lugar pra dançar, dizer que é meu aniversário e eu sou presidente do fã-clube da Britney (Britney Brasil) e pedir pelo amor de Deus pra tocar a música porque eu preciiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiso. Aham, eu já fiz isso.
:: Marcia Furriel 5:07 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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