:: Mardoux Mardoux... ::

::27.7.04:: VIVA EL PERU, CARAJO! É bom ganhar da Argentina. É bom ganhar nos pênaltis da Argentina, até porque nós só contribuímos para aumentar o trauma deles em relação à cobrança, vide final da Libertadores. Agora, time B é o cacete. Se neguinho vai pra ganhar, como é que vai me levando a xepa??? Se era só pra justificar que a gente NÃO ia ganhar, então eu preferia a Argentina. Se é pra tirar onda que a gente ganha da Argentina até com time B, então chama aí a Itália ou mesmo a seleção da GRÉCIA pra ver ocmo é que fica. O Brasil jogou feio mesmo, com uma defesa bisonha e atacantes que trocam passes igual eu e minha prima, e faltou um monte de gente pra melhorar o time. Sorte nossa que a Argentina anda medíocre. Pena que não foi final BRasil e Peru. Eu torceria pelo papai. :: Marcia Furriel 4:57 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..::]