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24.1.04

Don't Have To Be So Sad 

You and me / Were at some goldfish pond / And I / I was tagging along for the ride / This ugly big-mouthed fish really made us laugh

And while I stood still / I felt a chill / I thought that maybe you did too / I wanted to feel that way forever

And that's why / If you're looking at me / I'll try / To be what you want to see / And if I / If I'm ever that lucky / You won't have to be so sad / You won't have to be so sad

Last night / I was trying to read in bed / I got to watching you sleep instead / Even when I got tired I couldn't stop / Because I love you so
And I pray you know / But I'm not one for praying / You knew I couldn't say that without making a joke

And that's why / If you're looking at me / I'll try / To be what you want to see / And if I / If I'm ever that lucky / You won't have to be so / Won't have to be so sad...




Summer Sun retains the build of its immediate predecessor — songs like "How to Make a Baby Elephant Float" and "Don't Have To Be So Sad" all but require you to hunch by the speaker in the attempt to discern what it is Kaplan or Hubley are murmuring at any given time (this is quiet music that desires playing quietly). These are people — and this is music — that you can imagine have/has endured the odd long dark night of the soul, and yet (like the pro-/antagonists of a Ray Carver story) they've made it out the other side, discovering and retaining a fragile optimism along the way. "I like that term," says Kaplan. "I can live with that. Fragile optimism, yeah. That's what we do."

© 3ammagazine

21.1.04

Waiting for Marianne 

I have lost a telephone
with your smell in it

I am living beside the radio
all the stations at once
but I pick out a Polish lullaby
I pick it out of the static
it fades I wait I keep the beat
it comes back almost alseep

Did you take the telephone
knowing I'd sniff it immoderately
maybe heat up the plastic
to get all the crumbs of your breath

and if you won't come back
how will you phone to say
you won't come back
so that I could at least argue


Leonard Cohen, de "Flowers for Hitler"

20.1.04

N° 85 Sa main ouverte 



Anonyme, Dans Album de photographies de Mme la comtesse de Noailles




I Wonder How Many People in This City 

I wonder how many people in this city
live in furnished rooms.
Late at night when i look out at the buildings
I swear I see a face in every window
looking back at me
and when I turn away
I wonder how many go back to their desks
and write this down.

Leonard Cohen, de "The Spice-Box of Earth"

from Fragments, 



by Daido Moriyama

19.1.04

It's memories that i'm stealing 

It's such a sad old feeling
the fields are soft and green
it's memories that I'm stealing
but you're innocent when you dream
when you dream
you're innocent when you dream.

Extracto de Innocent when you dream, Tom Waits.

18.1.04

strangers talk only about the weather 

Tom Waits, Strange Weather
Varsóvia, 26 de Maio de 2000

Will you take me across the Channel
London Bridge is falling down
strange, a woman tries to save
more than a man will try to drown
and it's the rain that they predicted
it's the forecast ev'ry time
the rose has died because you picked it,
I believe that brandy's mine

And all over the world
strangers talk only about the weather
All over the world it's the same,
it's the same!

And the world is getting flatter
and the sky is falling all around
oh, and nothing is the matter
for I'll never cry in town
and a love like ours, my dear,
is best measured when it's down
and I never buy umbrellas
ßecause there's always one around

And you know that it's beginning
and you know that it's the end
once again we are strangers
as the fog goes rolling in

and all over the world
strangers talk only about the weather
All over the world it's the same,
it's the same!
It's the same!

Fotografia © Anton Corbijn

as tonalidades do castanho 

Não sei bem porquê mas tenho tendência para andar sempre pelas notas graves, Kathleen, a minha mulher, passa o tempo a empurrar-me um pouco pela escala acima porque, se fico entregue a mim mesmo, nunca deixo de me ficar apenas pelas várias tonalidades do castanho. Que, para mim, são, evidentemente, apenas vermelho e amarelo colocados um ao lado do outro. Ela diz-me sempre: o que tu criaste é lodo, água suja. Têm de estar constantemente a recordar-me isso. Também sou daltónico, o que é curioso. Faço malabarismos com o castanho, o verde, o azul e o vermelho. O verde parece-me castanho e o castanho verde, confundo o lilás com o azul e o azul com o lilás. Não vejo propriamente o mundo a preto e branco mas nunca conseguiria entrar para a Força Aérea

Tom Waits, Junho de 1989
in Nocturnos, tradução de João Lisboa e edição Assírio & Alvim

procuro formas diversas de usar um guarda-chuva 

Ultimamente diria que o meu ponto forte é a capacidade de pegar numa coisa, combiná-la com outra com que não tenha nada a ver e conseguir que isso faça sentido. Digamos que procuro formas diversas de usar um guarda-chuva.

[…]

O Harry Dean Stanton disse-me uma vez que encontrou uma cópia do meu primeiro álbum perdida junto a uma linha de caminho de ferro. Estava no fim do mundo a rodar um filme e encontrou o disco a derreter-se sobre os carris. É o tipo de coisa que me agrada. Antes acabar aí do que na prateleira de monos de uma discoteca.

Tom Waits, Outubro de 1983
in Nocturnos, tradução de João Lisboa e edição Assírio & Alvim

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