Sessão da tarde e pipocas

Nestes últimos dias tenho precisado de tricotar umas ideias (... falta delas?...) para outros afazeres, mesmo para além de fora de horas...

Por outro lado, com o regresso do inverno - a que ninguém pode apontar nenhum defeito - só me apetecia mesmo era um filmito, chinelos e um balde de pipocas.

Assim, até ao próximo fim de semana, e neste intermezzo forçado, deixo-vos uma imagem pirateada (já nem eu tenho vergonha - na verdade, vergonha até tenho, não tenho é memória, já não sei onde a vi, e acho este fractal uma beleza - e, não resisto ...) e mais um poeminha de Carson Robison. 1890-1957. Oswego, Kansas.

Gostava tanto de poder inserir som neste blog, é que a declamação "no original", vale mesmo ouro.

More and more teejus, ain't it?

The years roll on and your hair gets thin,
Then you start to growin' your second chin;
Democrats are in again
Gets monotonous, don't it?

I've used every tonic in the world, I think
And my head's just as bald as the kitchen sink;
Mosquitoes use it for a skatin' rink
Plum aggravatin' sometimes.

My teeth are gone - all but two -
A lot o' good they're gonna do,
'Cause they don't meet by a mile or two -
Sure makes it hard chawin'.

Gettin' wide in the beam and my stomach dips,
Got no more lap than a snake's got hips,
And when I squat, somethin' rips -
Just more and more teejus, ain't it.

I get up at night to "look at the moon",
It's as dark as the inside of King Tut's tomb;
Stump my toe on the - uh - "spitoon" -
Well, I oughta have modern plumbin'.

They say that I'm lazy and maybe it's true,
But if I wasn't meant to sit down like I do,
Then why was I made to bend where I do?
Sure fit this old rockin' chair.

Some guy tears through life like a blizzard,
Folks point him out and say, "He's a wizard!"
Then he's dead at forty with a burned-out gizzard -
Huh - I'll be eighty-one come April.

Can't help but smile at some of these guys
Who get so big in the public eye
Them six feet of earth make us all one size -
Nope, y' can't take it with you.

Life has many a twist and turn
And we live and die and never learn
If our wings will flap or our tailfeathers burn -
Powerful uncertain, ain't it?

Yet, the years roll on and I try to grin,
To keep things from gettin' under my skin,
But I'm gettin' that (sniff) cold in my nose again -
Life gets tasteless, don't it?

Até...