domingo, setembro 16, 2007







11 comentários:

Bandida disse...

'Nobody knows where Slim Gaillard is'


'... one night we suddenly went mad together again; we went to see Slim Gaillard in a little Frisco nightclub. Slim Gaillard is a tall, thin Negro with big sad eyes who's always saying 'Right-orooni' and 'How 'bout a little bourbon-arooni.' In Frisco great eager crowds of young semi-intellectuals sat at his feet and listened to him on the piano, guitar and bongo drums. When he gets warmed up he takes off his undershirt and really goes. He does and says anything that comes into his head. He'll sing 'Cement Mixer, Put-ti Put-ti' and suddenly slow down the beat and brood over his bongos with fingertips barely tapping the skin as everybody leans forward breathlessly to hear; you think he'll do this for a minute or so, but he goes right on, for as long as an hour, making an imperceptible little noise with the tips of his fingernails, smaller and smaller all the time till you can't hear it any more and sounds of traffic come in the open door. Then he slowly gets up and takes the mike and says, very slowly, 'Great-orooni ... fine-ovauti ... hello-orooni ... bourbon-orooni ... all-orooni ... how are the boys in the front row making out with their girls-orooni ... orooni ... vauti ... oroonirooni ..." He keeps this up for fifteen minutes, his voice getting softer and softer till you can't hear. His great sad eyes scan the audience.

Dean stands in the back, saying, 'God! Yes!' -- and clasping his hands in prayer and sweating. 'Sal, Slim knows time, he knows time.' Slim sits down at the piano and hits two notes, two C's, then two more, then one, then two, and suddenly the big burly bass-player wakes up from a reverie and realizes Slim is playing 'C-Jam Blues' and he slugs in his big forefinger on the string and the big booming beat begins and everybody starts rocking and Slim looks just as sad as ever, and they blow jazz for half an hour, and then Slim goes mad and grabs the bongos and plays tremendous rapid Cubana beats and yells crazy things in Spanish, in Arabic, in Peruvian dialect, in Egyptian, in every language he knows, and he knows innumerable languages. Finally the set is over; each set takes two hours. Slim Gaillard goes and stands against a post, looking sadly over everybody's head as people come to talk to him. A bourbon is slipped into his hand. 'Bourbon-orooni -- thank-you-ovauti ...' Nobody knows where Slim Gaillard is. Dean once had a dream that he was having a baby and his belly was all bloated up blue as he lay on the grass of a California hospital. Under a tree, with a group of colored men, sat Slim Gaillard. Dean turned despairing eyes of a mother to him. Slim said, 'There you go-orooni.' Now Dean approached him, he approached his God; he thought Slim was God; he shuffled and bowed in front of him and asked him to join us. 'Right-orooni,' says Slim; he'll join anybody but won't guarantee to be there with you in spirit. Dean got a table, bought drinks, and sat stiffly in front of Slim. Slim dreamed over his head. Every time Slim said, 'Orooni,' Dean said 'Yes!' I sat there with these two madmen. Nothing happened. To Slim Gaillard the whole world was just one big orooni.'



On The Road, Jack Kerouac

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teresamaremar disse...

Há quem assim viva, on the road, freneticamente. Trezentos anos.

Bom domingo.

Beijos

Haddock disse...

bandida,

ia dizer como comentário "mas tu escreves pouco"... quando dei de caras com a tua própria "esmola" (emprestada, eu sei).
óptimo post!

de resto, dei um passeio por aqui e gostei ao ponto de voltar sem ser para retribuir visita!!

ainda bem que nos cruzámos, então.

Arion disse...

gosto muito destes mocinhos todos, os beats!

manhã disse...

esta geração tem qualquer coisa de fascinante, talvez porque fizeram o que muitos gostariam de fazer e não têm como, agora, seria difícil ser beat!

as velas ardem ate ao fim disse...

Grandes tempos.

Excelente post!

bjinhos

isabel disse...

hit the road B. more and more and more and mÓre :)

your road!

jorge vicente disse...

always on the road, as it must be

a big hug
jorge

merdinhas disse...

On your road...B.

(E já lá vão 50 anos...)

intruso disse...

..."satisfações"... há muitas...

(a escrita e os des-sentidos... pois...
acredito)

magnífico kerouac...

bjs
:)

Gi disse...

Saudades do que nunca vivi. Tempos de magia. Da música, do verbo.

de hoje

o post :)

beijos