ambages/2

Ya no me interesa ni el asiento de la ventanilla

Un abuelo perjudica menos que un padre
Pero a más gente

Un ventilador es un reloj que adelanta bestialmente

Sí señor existe la amistad entre el hombre y la mujer
Es el amor

Tanto jode el gallo que al final sale el sol

Ojo que apenas un milímetro separa subrayar de tachar

No hay que confundir un calzoncillo moderno
Con uno que te queda chico

No hay que confundir un hombre de barba muy negra
Con un hombre que habla por teléfono

No hay que confundir un hombre que se pone una bufanda
Con un hombre que hace gestos desesperados

No hay que confundir un mozo doblando una servilleta
Con una mujer que viene a asesinarte

Morir es como dormir 
Pero sin levantarse a hacer pis

Nada más fácil que escribir un poema
Basta crearse una situación poética y redactarla 

Dios castiga a los católicos

El hombre tiene dos balcones donde asomarse
La mujer
El cosmos

Enamorarse es meramente percibir a fondo las diferencias entre una persona y las demás

Equivocarse de bolsillo no es tan trágico

Hay dos clases de desesperación
La relativa o poesía
La absoluta o muerte

Hombre solo se acoda en mostrador
Hombre con mujer espera mesita

Ideal de todo hombre
Que su presencia sea una fiesta para los otros

La vida es un viaje a la muerte con escala en la mujer

Las mujeres echan hijos como los barcos anclas

Las mujeres quieren amor y cosas

Lo particular son los granos que le salen a lo general

Las orejas ponen a la nariz entre paréntesis

Los grillos dirigen el tráfico del campo

Los hombres deberían llevar el anillo matrimonial en el pene

Los peces son personas atadas de pies y manos

Manifiesto
Los poemas deben ser cortos
Las novelas largas
Los ensayos que se entiendan
Las películas de acción contemporánea
Y todas las óperas son atroces

Me aprecia mucho
Se ríe de todo lo que digo

Conlasmujereshesabidosiempreguardarladebidadistancia

El comunismo es como un istmo

Más vale eyaculación precoz que hijo póstumo

Mi sombra está por saltar sobre mí


Yo no hablo de lo que escribo
escribo de lo que hablo

Si hemos aceptado la muerte
¿por qué no aceptaríamos cualquier otra cosa?

Sobre los jorobados llueve más

Te prometí que nunca iba a morirme 
hijo mío
para que aprendas a no creer en promesas

Tengo que poner más atención en mi biografía

Y que Bach te guíe hijo mío a través
de la virginidad de cada mañana

No hay buena cena sin mozo sensible

otros toros son posibles

A renaissance, another day
To tiptoe on the balustrade
Get over you, like anything
I ever could
It's easier from far away
Imagine this another way
I know the lines to every play
The best ones cry
So please come wake me up
There's a mob at the door
I hear them calling for my head
And they're scaling the walls
I'm still, still dreaming magnificent things
It's awful high above the stage
In shadows on the balcony
Afraid to dive, it's worse to wait
The best ones cry
Please come wake me up I'm waiting for your—
There's a mob at the door
I hear them calling for my head
And they're scaling the walls
I'm still, still dreaming magnificent things
There's a mob at the door
I hear them calling for my head
And they're scaling the walls
I'm still, still dreaming magnificent things
Please come wake me up I'm waiting for your love
Please come wake me up I'm waiting for your love
Please come wake me up I'm waiting for your love

I found me a hopeless case, and resolve to love
Maybe we can find a decent place
When I'm old enough
Found love in an empty gaze, try to fix it up
I found me a hopeless case, oh

I'll fall for you soon enough
I resolve to love
Now I know it's just another fuck
Cause I'm old enough
Sell lies like their only trust
It will pick me up
I'll fall for you soon enough, oho, oho

Oho, don't be scared, that it's a harder kind of feel
Hold on tight, you must hold on unless you're in it
Ease your mind, and when you think, you're thinking clear
It's alright, you really tired for a minute'
I just say, that it's another on the clock
It is a summer calling sickness

Sonsick at the t ball games, I so feel luck
Maybe find a place where we could mess
When we're old enough
We can never go from all the rest
We can live it up
All pressed in the Sunday best, oho, oho

Sonsick at the t ball games, I so feel luck
Maybe find a place where we could mess
When we're old enough
Make plans and we'll buy the things, try to fix it up
Sonsick at the t ball games, oho, oho

Oho, don't be scared, that it's a harder kind of feel
Hold on tight, you must hold on unless you're in it
Ease your mind, and when you think, you're thinking clear
It's alright, you really tired for a minute'
I just say, that it's another on the clock
It is a summer calling sickness
It is a summer calling sickness
Summer calling sickness

Oho, don't be scared, that it's a harder kind of feel
Hold on tight, you must hold on unless you're in it
Ease your mind, and when you think, you're thinking clear
It's alright, you really tired for a minute'
I just say, that it's another on the clock
It is a summer calling sickness
It is a summer calling sickness
Summer calling sickness.

a 5 minutos del centro

Cómo L. dio con esta joya es algo que tendrá que explicar algún día.

43.4541°, -2.7526° y los suburbios amotinados

En el día más largo
todos estamos aquí
nuestros pies entre la espuma
buscándose antes de morir.

Cuando el cabo Matxixtxaco
reviente al fin
y nos diga el farero
idiotas, yo os lo advertí.

¿Y ahora qué. ahora qué, ahora qué,
ahora qué vamos a hacer??
Tápate, tápate, tápate
la cara mi amor,
no veas éste horror.

No supimos interpretar 
el rosa de la luna
que anunciaba sin titubear,
que algo horrible iba a pasar.

Con la cola por delante
salen los peces del mar,
dicen que para los que no van a nado
es muy tarde ya.

¿Y ahora qué. ahora qué, ahora qué,
ahora qué vamos a hacer??
Tápate, tápate, tápate,
la espalda mi amor
que hace frío.

En tu corazón sólo hay sitio en los suburbios

En tu corazón solo hay sitio en los suburbios 

aun así me instalo allí a verlas venir 

en tu corazón solo hay sitio en los suburbios 

aun así me instalo allí y no puedo ser feliz

Me alquilo, una casa 

sin ventanas ni jardín 

y en la cumbre de la tarde 

empiezo a gritarte desde aquí

Solo me oye el andamio 

y el indio que por el viene por mi 

si ya no soy ninguna niña 

por qué me sangran las rodillas así

En tu corazón 

solo hay sitio en los suburbios 

en tu corazón 

solo hay sitio en los suburbios 

De lo que sucede

en la periferia de ti apenas te enteras

no sabes que se esta gestando un motín 

como si fuera el mismísimo París 

los ánimos aquí están así

no tengo que perder 

ya no hay nada que me pueda herir

En tu corazón 

solo hay sitio en los suburbios 

en tu corazón 

solo hay sitio en los suburbios 

El ejército esta viniendo 

el ejército esta viniendo 

tú no te atreves a venir 

el ejército esta viniendo 

ambages/1

Los aeropuertos me hacen bien

Los ambages deben escribirse en diagonal

Los ambages se alimentan con esperma de poema

Los chinos, ¿pueden tener mala letra?

Me he pasado la vida explicando a las mujeres
Como se cuentan los tantos en el tenis

De los bienes materiales sólo me interesa el dinero

Es triste esperar en vano a una mujer aunque sea fea

Beso que se logra dar es un triunfo de la boca sobre la nariz

Lo siento por los buenos autores pero yo tengo mucho que publicar

Deberás ceñirte a la verdad lo más que puedas, hijo mío, sobre todo cuando tengas que mentir

Yo Siempre Escribo dios Con Mayúscula

yo y/o yo 

Un ambage es un dibujo que se entiende

Una cosa es ser veloz y otra cosa es ir cuesta abajo

César Fernández Moreno

outer space

I step off the train 
I'm walkin' down your street again 
And pass your door 
But you don't live there anymore
It's years since you've been there 
And now you've disappeared somewhere 
Like outer space
You've found some better place

And I miss you 
(Like the deserts miss the rain)
And I miss you
Oh
(Like the deserts miss the rain) 

Could you be dead? 
You always were two steps ahead 
Of ev'ryone 
We'd walk behind while you would run
I look up at your house 
And I can almost hear you shout, down to me 
Where I always used to be 

And I miss you
(Like the deserts miss the rain)
And I miss you 
(Like the deserts miss the rain)

Back on the train 
I ask why did I come again 
Can I confess? 
I've been hangin' 'round your old address
And the years have proved 
To offer nothin' since you moved
You're long gone
But I can't move on

And I miss you 
Oh-oh (Like the deserts miss the rain)
And I miss you, yeah
(Like the deserts miss the rain) And I miss you

I step off the train 
I'm walkin' down your street again 
Pass your door 
I guess you don't live there anymore
It's years since you've been there 
And now you've disappeared somewhere 
Like outer space
You've found some better place

And I miss you
(Like the deserts miss the rain)
And I miss you, yeah
(Like the deserts miss the rain)
And I miss you, and I miss you
(Like the deserts miss the rain)
And I miss you, yeah
(Like the deserts miss the rain)

Deserts miss the rain
(Like the deserts miss the rain)

Like the deserts miss the rain
(Like the deserts miss the rain)

  

Definición de blanco y negro. O la elegancia.

La vida es algo para lo cual en muchas ocasiones uno carece de adjetivos. Forget me not.

Monica:

She suffered from severe scoliosis, and as a result was forced to retire from performing in 1999. She made her last lengthy official tour in 1997, and gave one of her last concerts at Sweden's Hultsfred Festival (which usually is a festival for pop and rock bands; but she participated anyway - and the young rock audience loved her). In the last years of her life she used a wheelchair because of her scoliosis. On 12 May 2005, she died following an accidental fire in her apartment in Stockholm. ^[3]

Bill:

In April 1979, Evans met Canadian waitress Laurie Verchomin, with whom he would have a relationship until his death. Verchomin was 28 years younger.^[43]

At the beginning of a several-week tour of the trio through the Pacific Northwest in the spring of 1979, Evans learned that his brother, Harry, who had been diagnosed with schizophrenia, had committed suicide at age 52.^[7][14][43] This news shocked him deeply, and some of the concerts had to be canceled. His friends and relatives believe that this event precipitated his own death the following year.^[7][43]

Marc Johnson recalled: "This fateful trip marks [...] the beginning of the end. Bill's willingness to play and work decreased noticeably after the death of Harry, actually it was just the music itself that held him upright. He fulfilled his obligations because he needed money, but these were the few moments in his life when he felt comfortable - the times in between must have been depressing, and he barely showed a willingness to live."^[5]

In August 1979, Evans recorded his last studio album, We Will Meet Again, featuring a composition of the same name written for his brother. The album won a Grammy award posthumously in 1981, along with I Will Say Goodbye.^[46]

During the late 1970s, Evans became addicted to cocaine. He started with one gram per weekend, but later started taking several grams daily.^[43] His brother Harry's suicide may have also influenced his emotional state after 1979. His sister-in-law Pat Evans has stated that she knew Bill wouldn't last long after Harry's death and she wondered if that's what prompted her to buy three plots in a Baton Rouge Cemetery, where Harry rested.^[7]It is also known that he voluntarily quit his treatment for chronic hepatitis.^[7] Laurie Verchomin has claimed that Evans was clear in mind that he would die in a short time.^[43]

On September 15, 1980, Evans, who had been in bed for several days with stomach pains at his home in Fort Lee, was accompanied by Joe LaBarbera and Verchomin to theMount Sinai Hospital in New York, where he died that afternoon.^[43] The cause of death was a combination of peptic ulcer,cirrhosis, bronchial pneumonia, and untreated hepatitis.^[8] Evans's friend Gene Lees described Evans's struggle with drugs as "the longest suicide in history."^[8] He was interred in Baton Rouge, next to his brother Harry.

Where has the time all gone to?
Haven't done half the things we want to
Oh well, we'll catch up some other time

This day was just a token
Too many words are still unspoken
Oh well, we'll catch up some other time

Just when the fun is startin'
Comes the time for partin'
But let's just be glad for what we've had
And what's to come

There's so much more embracin'
Still to be done but time is racin'
Oh well, we'll catch up some other time

Y esta última, que hay que verla en el enlace que adjunto aquí.

Monica Zetterlund(vo) , Bill Evans(p) , Eddie Gomez(b) , Alex Riel(ds)
Recorded in Copenhagen Oct. 1966
Monica Zetterlund with Bill Evans Trio "Once upon a Summertime"

Once upon a summertime if you recall
We stopped beside then in a flower stall
A bunch of bright forget-me-nots
Was all I let you buy me
Once upon a summertime just like today
We laughed the happy afternoon away
And stole a kiss in every street cafe
You were sweeter than the blossom on the tree
I was as proud as any girl could be
As if the major had offered me the key, the key to Paris
Now another wintertime has come and gone
The pigeons feeding in the square have flown
But I remember when the vespers chime
You loved me once upon a summertime

Martha my dear

Old Tom Frost:

Tom nació en el 49. En el 72 graba su Martha. Un año después, Tim le hace una versión en Sefronia. Con veinte años resulta difícil concebir cómo se puede escribir una letra de ese calado. La letra en la de Tim es ligeramente distinta. Mejor la de Waits.

Operator, number please, it's been so many years
Will she remember my old voice while I fight the tears
Hello, hello there, is this Martha, this is old Tom Frost
And I am calling long distance, don't worry about the cost
'Cause it's been forty years or more, now Martha please recall
Meet me out for coffee, where we'll talk about it all

And those were the days of roses, of poetry and prose
And Martha all I had was you and all you had was me
There was no tomorrows, we packed away our sorrows
And we saved them for a rainy day

And I feel so much older now, and you're much older too
How's your husband, and how's your kids, you know that I got married too
Lucky that you found someone to make you feel secure
'Cause we were all so young and foolish, now we are mature

And those were the days of roses, of poetry and prose
And Martha all I had was you and all you had was me
There was no tomorrows, we packed away our sorrows
And we saved them for a rainy day

And I was always so impulsive, I guess that I still am
And all that really mattered then was that I was a man
I guess that our being together was never meant to be
And Martha, Martha, I love you, can't you see

And those were the days of roses, of poetry and prose
And Martha all I had was you and all you had was me
There was no tomorrows, we packed away our sorrows
And we saved them for a rainy day

And I remember quiet evenings, trembling close to you

My inspiration:

Un poco antes, en el 68, con veintiséis, Paul se larga su Martha donde prácticamente él se lo guisa y él se lo come - double-tracked vocal, piano, bass, guitar, drums, handclaps, brass and string arrangement-. De los otros tres nada se sabe: sí del quinto, una pieza que debe ser de cuidado. Respecto a la historia de la canción, no tiene desperdicio. Cuánto te echo de menos, cariño, mientras me meto en la cama sistemáticamente con otra. Estaban comprometidos, o algo así. Jane entra en el dormitorio, se lo encuentra en la cama con Francie y se acabó la película. Le hizo un favor: no hubieran llegado a nada y a cambio le dejó inspiración para rato. Su musa, decía él. Qué campeón; siempre me lo pareció.

Martha my dear

Though I spend my days in conversation
Please remember me
Martha my love
Don't forget me
Martha my dear
Hold your head up you silly girl
Look what you've done
When you find yourself in the thick of it
Help yourself to a bit of what is all around you
Silly Girl
Take a good look around you
Take a good look you're bound to see
That you and me were meant to be for each other
Silly girl
Hold your hand out you silly girl
See what you've done
When you find yourself in the thick of it
Help yourself to a bit of what is all around you
Silly girl
Martha my dear
You have always been my inspiration
Please be good to me
Martha my love Don't forget me
Martha my dear.

Lisa my dear

girl we couldn’t get much higher

En el orden de aquella noche del 17 de septiembre de 1967. La presencia escénica de señor Morrinson con 24 añitos es apabullante. La presencia escénica de Ed también lo es, por motivos bien distintos. Aquí está la historia de esa noche, y en la wiki también hay algo.

la sombra de tu perro

Puestos a transliterar, a abordar lo inabordable, a traducir lo intraducible, menos es más. 
Lo del belga, por cierto, no es normal. No salgo de mi asombro, netamente aumentado por su Schaerbeek natal, ese lugar.