cant de l'enyor

Hui m'han fet un comentari que ha fet que una espècie de calfred em corregués columna avall a buscar els peus. Ha sigut un company d'Uruguay mentre parlàvem del temps i la seua relativitat. M'ha recordat que fa deu mesos que ens vam vore per última vegada, jo ràpidament li he dit: Noooo! Però allò més greu ha sigut que, en aturar-me un segon a pensar-ho bé; he caigut en el compte de que tenia tota la raó del món. En eixe precís moment se m'han eriçat tots els pèls.

Però com pot ser deu mesos ja si tinc els re-cords tan presents que puc sentir en pròpia pell tot el que vaig sentir allà, que veig les cares de la gent amb tanta claredat com si les haguera vistes ahir?

L'enyorança és joia i és tristesa, és un dilema intern sense fi...

enllaçant

xics i xiques, vaig a vore si puc posar un enllaç d'eixos tan bonics que poseu vosaltres. si puc ja em consideraré del "nivel avanzado" blogaire!! què no!? açò és una espècie de joc... curiós si més no...

els dimarts del cine pot

azuloscurocasinegro, rosaobscurcasifucsia, gua-pa!, un especial i dos de sepia, nodiguesolivafinsquenoestigabaixlab(f)iga, què a ningú li passe!, everydayislikesunday, novembre, el neobrufén... és addictiu?, i no parava de ploure...

cançó de diumenge

everyday is like sunday, quina gran cançó. és una cançó de diumenge, i més d'un diumenge com el de hui: plutjós, fresquet... d'estar tancadets a casa mirant una pel·li (o lost! hui m'he introduït en eixe món de perduts..) trobe que fins i tot; en certa manera, és un elogi al diumenge...

everyday is like sunday...

Trudging slowly over wet sandBack to the bench where your clothes were stolenThis is the coastal town That they forgot to close down Armageddon - come armageddon! Come, armageddon! come! Everyday is like sunday Everyday is silent and greyHide on the promenadeEtch a postcard :How I dearly wish I was not hereIn the seaside town...that they forgot to bombCome, come, come - nuclear bombEveryday is like sundayEveryday is silent and greyTrudging back over pebbles and sandAnd a strange dust lands on your hands(and on your face...)(on your face ...)(on your face ...)(on your face ...)Everyday is like sundayWin yourself a cheap trayShare some greased tea with meEveryday is silent and grey

per no perdre'ns... el nostre amic botifarreta o "sanllaze", com preferiu... agosaes pesat que era!

bata i neus camina que caminaràs...

quina casualitat!!! detalls...

Com si no estiguera bé...

No faig més que escoltar SUZANNE; una vegada darrere altra. Qué me pasa, doctor?

SUZANNE

Suzanne takes you down to her place near the river You can hear the boats go by You can spend the night beside her And you know that she's half crazy But that's why you want to be there And she feeds you tea and oranges That come all the way from China And just when you mean to tell her That you have no love to give her Then she gets you on her wavelength And she lets the river answer That you've always been her lover And you want to travel with her And you want to travel blind And you know that she will trust you For you've touched her perfect body with your mind. And Jesus was a sailor When he walked upon the water And he spent a long time watching From his lonely wooden tower And when he knew for certain Only drowning men could see him He said "All men will be sailors then Until the sea shall free them" But he himself was broken Long before the sky would open Forsaken, almost human He sank beneath your wisdom like a stone And you want to travel with him And you want to travel blind And you think maybe you'll trust him For he's touched your perfect body with his mind. Now Suzanne takes your hand And she leads you to the river She is wearing rags and feathers From Salvation Army counters And the sun pours down like honey On our lady of the harbour And she shows you where to look Among the garbage and the flowers There are heroes in the seaweed There are children in the morning They are leaning out for love And they will lean that way forever While Suzanne holds the mirror And you want to travel with her And you want to travel blind And you know that you can trust her For she's touched your perfect body with her mind.

Xauxa

XAUXA: nom d'un país imaginari on hi ha gran abundància de tot i tothom pot viure regaladament sense treballar.