hands / these things that dust in words

Tilly Losch in Her Dance of the Hands, Norman Bel Geddes, 1930-33

«because the hands have so much

intelligence, it's important to confuse

them now and then»

Tom Waits

e dizia também o Nava que as mãos são de qualquer corpo a coroa.

(este é um post cheio de mãos)

warning: do not plant your bad days

This is about all the bad days in the world. I used to have some little bad days, and I kept them in a little box. And one day, I threw them out into the yard. “Oh, it’s just a couple little innocent bad days.” Well, we had a big rain. I don’t know what it was growing in but I think we used to put eggshells out there and coffee grounds, too. Don’t plant your bad days. They grow into weeks. The weeks grow into months. Before you know it you got yourself a bad year. Take it from me. Choke those little bad days. Choke ‘em down to nothin’. They’re your days. Choke ‘em!


Tom Waits

tivesses dito isso antes e

I like beautiful melodies

telling me terrible things.

Tom Waits

memória / sofrimento

A minha memória não é uma fonte de sofrimento. Certas partes são como uma loja de penhores, outras como um aquário, outras como uma despensa. Julgo que há um sítio onde a memória se distorce como as imagens nos espelhos de feira e é essa a área que mais me interessa.


Tom Waits

the laughing heart

your life is your life / know it while you have it / you are marvelous / the gods wait to delight / in you