:: Mardoux Mardoux... ::

::19.7.04:: THAT SUGAR BABY OF MINE Ontem vi mais um dos inúmeros (graças a Deus) documentários sobre a música americana, cantores e cantoras, essas coisas. Tive a oportunidade de ver mais uma vez como eu gosto da Ella (e sou fã de cantar junto) e como a Billie Holiday era bonita. ALém de ter aquela voz desafiadora, ela era um charme só, sobrancelhas lindíssimas, boca pintada de vermelho (era um filme p&b, mas eu tenho certeza que era vermelho) e uns decotes absolutos, completamente magnética. Claro que então, como de antigo costume, vou abrir as sessões com uma letrinha cantada por Billie, mesmo que o tempo não seja em absoluto de sofrimento...(um pouquinho não faz mal). Essa inclusive, é fofa. Sugar M. pinkard / S. mitchell / F. alexander Sugar, i call my baby my sugar I never maybe my sugar That sugar baby of mine He's special ration Funny, he never asks for my money All i give him is honey And that he can spend anytime I'd make a million trips to lips It i were a bee Because he's sweeter than chocolate candy to me He's confectionary Sugar, i never cheat on my sugar Cause i'm too sweet on my sugar That sugar baby of mine :: Marcia Furriel 12:16 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..::]