post perdido

escrevi mentalmente hoje pelo meio-dia um post brilhante que insiste em não se revelar novamente.
recordo apenas que no final tomava banho e logo saía à rua de gabardine.

próximo ano, s.f.f.

20.15

há por aí uma miudeca descalça with a lot of spunk que constroi mundos literários inverosíveis e lúcidos. não tem medo de nada a ser do tédio. aborreçe-se facilmente e gosta de gritar, e que o seu grito vibre e incomode a placidez convencional. e é doce por detrás da raiva.
olha-me de soslaio e recomenda-me pouco. (minha arrogância, nem me olha)

o melhor é a ambiguidade de apetecer dizer fodasse e mais tarde sorrir.

Proud to be holding your music, miss Niblett

Teatro da vida

OTHELLO

Give me your hand: this hand is moist, my lady.

DESDEMONA

It yet hath felt no age nor known no sorrow.

OTHELLO

This argues fruitfulness and liberal heart:
Hot, hot, and moist: this hand of yours requires
A sequester from liberty, fasting and prayer,
Much castigation, exercise devout;
For here's a young and sweating devil here,
That commonly rebels. 'Tis a good hand,
A frank one.

ontem reencontrado, aqui:

http://teatrodobolhao.blogspot.com/2009/12/blog-post.html

Screw you pouring rain

Embalados pela mão, a chegarem a casa:

Silenciador, do Jacinto Lucas Pires , A Tempestade de Shakespeare, e Um Homem Célebre, de Machado de Assis, tudo da Cotovia. O quadrado Azul do Almada Negreiros, edição fax-similada da Assírio.
Rhapsody in Blue de Gershwin e Mahler no. 5. The latest of Kings of Convenience.

STRANGER

And then leaning on your window sill
he'll say one day you caused his will
to weaken with your love and warmth and shelter
And then taking from his wallet
an old schedule of trains, he'll say
I told you when I came I was a stranger
I told you when I came I was a stranger.

But now another stranger seems
to want you to ignore his dreams
as though they were the burden of some other
O you've seen that man before
his golden arm dispatching cards
but now it's rusted from the elbows to the finger
And he wants to trade the game he plays for shelter
Yes he wants to trade the game he knows for shelter.

Ah you hate to watch another tired man
lay down his hand
like he was giving up the holy game of poker
And while he talks his dreams to sleep
you notice there's a highway
that is curling up like smoke above his shoulder
and suddenly you feel a little older

LCOHEN