sábado, 21 de outubro de 2006
Thinking about two very good friends, that always make me feel at home...
...and everyone that was in Valencia, and everyone that should have been.
...the soundtrack of endless car trips, mandatory to sing along.
So there was this woman and she was on an airplane and she's flying to meet her fiancé sailing high above the largest ocean on planet earth and she was seated next to this man who you know she had tried to start a conversation but really the only thing she heard him say was to order his bloody maryand she's sitting there and she's reading this really arduous magazine article about this third world country that she couldn't even pronounce the name of and she's feeling very bored and very despondentand then uh suddenly there's this huge mechanical failure and one of the engines gave out and they started just falling thirty thousand feet and the pilots on the microphone and he's saying, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, Oh My God, I'm Sorry" and apologizing and she looks at the man and she says,"where are we going" and he looks at her and he says, "We're going to a party, it's a birthday party. It's your birthday party, happy birthday darling. We love you very, very, very, very, very, very, very much."and then he starts humming this little tune and it kind of goes like this: One, Two, One, Two, Three, Four We must talk in every telephone, get eaten off the web We must rip out all the epilogues from the books we have read And to the face of every criminal strapped firmly in a chair We must stare, we must stare, we must stare We must take all of the medicines too expensive now to sell Set fire to the preacher who is promising us hell And in the ear of every anarchist that sleeps but doesn't dream We must sing, we must sing, we must sing And it'll go like this While my mother waters plants my father loads his gun. He says, "Death will give us back to God, just like the setting sun is returned to the lonesome ocean." And then they splashed into the deep blue sea It was a wonderful splash We must blend into the choir, sing as static with the whole We must memorize nine numbers and deny we have a soul And to this endless race for property and privilege to be won We must run, we must run, we must run We must hang up in the belfry where the bats in moonlight laugh We must stare into a crystal ball and only see the past And in the caverns of tomorrow with our flashlights and our love We must plunge, we must plunge, we must plunge And then we'll get down there, way down to the very bottom of everything and then we'll see it, we'll see it, we'll see it Oh my morning's coming back The whole worlds waking up Oh the city bus is swimming past I'm happy just because I found out I am really no one
Lyrics from Bright Eyes: At the bottom of everything
quarta-feira, 18 de outubro de 2006
segunda-feira, 16 de outubro de 2006
A propósito de discussões sobre amores à primeira vista... ;)
"Imagination is inflamed by women who lack, precisely, imagination. They have the brightest aureoles who, turned unwaveringly outward, are wholly matter-of-fact. Their attraction stems from their lack of awareness of themselves, indeed of a self at all: Oscar Wilde coined the name unenigmatic Sphinxes for them. "
Theodor Adorno, Minima Moralia, Princess Lizard
It hurts to hear