Eu em Franca/SP

rolling, rolling....

Like A Rolling Stone

Once upon a time you dressed so fine
You threw the bums a dime in your prime, didn’t you?
People’d call, say, “Beware doll, you’re bound to fall”
You thought they were all kiddin’ you
You used to laugh about
Everybody that was hangin’ out
Now you don’t talk so loud
Now you don’t seem so proud
About having to be scrounging for your next meal

How does it feel
How does it feel
To be without a home
Like a complete unknown
Like a rolling stone?

You’ve gone to the finest school all right, Miss Lonely
But you know you only used to get juiced in it
And nobody has ever taught you how to live on the street
And now you find out you’re gonna have to get used to it
You said you’d never compromise
With the mystery tramp, but now you realize
He’s not selling any alibis
As you stare into the vacuum of his eyes
And ask him do you want to make a deal?

How does it feel
How does it feel
To be on your own
With no direction home
Like a complete unknown
Like a rolling stone?

You never turned around to see the frowns on the jugglers and the clowns
When they all come down and did tricks for you
You never understood that it ain’t no good
You shouldn’t let other people get your kicks for you
You used to ride on the chrome horse with your diplomat
Who carried on his shoulder a Siamese cat
Ain’t it hard when you discover that
He really wasn’t where it’s at
After he took from you everything he could steal

How does it feel
How does it feel
To be on your own
With no direction home
Like a complete unknown
Like a rolling stone?

Princess on the steeple and all the pretty people
They’re drinkin’, thinkin’ that they got it made
Exchanging all kinds of precious gifts and things
But you’d better lift your diamond ring, you’d better pawn it babe
You used to be so amused
At Napoleon in rags and the language that he used
Go to him now, he calls you, you can’t refuse
When you got nothing, you got nothing to lose
You’re invisible now, you got no secrets to conceal

How does it feel
How does it feel
To be on your own
With no direction home
Like a complete unknown
Like a rolling stone?

De volta às intermináveis manhãs...

Eu gosto muito de reticências. Tenho me dado conta disso ao aventurar-me cada vez no infinito da escrita. As reticências vêm indicar continuidade, perenidade, delonga...

Voltei hoje de uma longa, prazeroza e breve férias. Longa porque já havia me acostumado com o ócio das manhãs e com as madrugadas prolíferas de nada importante. Prazerosa porque voltei a ter uma atividade física regular após considerável tempo. Breves, pois dizem que tudo demais é muito, com a evidente exceção de férias.

A interminabilidade das manhãs a que me refiro se deve à exaustiva rotina da infindável burocracia de inócua eficiência deste labor tecnico-administrativo... Mas não posso me queixar, pois, como diria mamãe, e ela diz coisas bacanas, "pior seria se pior fosse". É esta a fonte de renda que me permite viver e pagar despesas, afinal.

Assim, tenho que encerrar agora, pois os deveres me convocam para mais uma manhã interminável de afazeres dignos de uma missão de O Senhor dos Anéis...