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Monday, November 21, 2005 - ore 09:28
Del perchè odio il freddo
(categoria: " Vita Quotidiana ")
Sono in ritardo. Devo correre. Inizio alle 8.30, sono già le 8.35. Esco.
La macchina è ghiacciata. Vaffancistifellea. Torna dentro, prendi bottiglia vuota, riempi con acqua calda, esci, versala sui vetri della macchina, ammira il ghiaccio che impotente si arrende sottoforma di vapore alla superiorità dell’uomo.
Ti odio, inverno. O meglio, ti odio al 70%, perchè ci sono alcune cose di te che amo, tipo il camino acceso, non avere rimorsi se non esco di casa la sera, e altre cose che sono sicuro ci siano ma che al momento non mi vengono in mente.
Modest Mouse - Bukowski (2004)
Woke up this morning and it seemed to me,
that every night turns out to be
A little more like Bukowski.
And yeah, I know he’s a pretty good read.
But God who’d wanna be?
God who’d wanna be such an asshole?
God who’d wanna be?
God who’d wanna be such an asshole?
Well we sat on the edge of the river,
the crowd screamed, "Sacrifice the liver!"
If God takes life, he’s an Indian giver.
So tell me now why, you’ll tell me never.
Who would wanna be?
Who would wanna be such a control freak?
Well who would wanna be?
Who would wanna be such a control freak?
Well see what you wanna see. You should see it all.
Well take what you want from me. You deserve it all.
Nine times out of ten our hearts just get dissolved.
Well I want a better place or just a better way to fall.
But one time out of ten, everything is perfect for us all.
Well I want a better place or just a better way to fall.
Here we go!
If God controls the land and disease,
keeps a watchful eye on me,
If he’s really so damn mighty,
my problem is I can’t see,
well who would wanna be?
Who would wanna be such a control freak?
Well who would wanna be?
Who would wanna be such a control freak?
Evil home stereo, what good songs do you know?
Evil me, oh yeah I know, what good curves can you throw?
Well all that icing and all that cake,
I can’t make it to your wedding, but I’m sure I’ll be at your
wake.
You were talk, talk, talk, talkin’ in circles that day,
when you get to the point make sure that I’m still awake, OK?
Went to bed and didn’t see
why every day turns out to be
a little bit more like Bukowski.
And yeah, I know he’s a pretty good read.
But God who’d wanna be?
God who’d wanna be such an asshole?
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