março 11, 2004

Nicole Blackman sings for Recoil

«Carla was on her break from the graveyard shift at the mayonnaise factory
She sat at a teetering picnic table
There was a toxic orange moon and it was slightly cold
Carla took out her knife and began etching random words into the table’s surface
Then she thought of her co-worker Jack
Carla liked to think of Jack as a luscious apparatus
He was meaty but graceful
His flesh seemed folded onto his body like a suit made of meat
Carla started to think of Jack as a luscious apparatus in a meat suit
Thinking this gave Carla a dreamy smile
Her mouth was small to begin with but dreaming made it even smaller
That’s just how some people are, their mouths get smaller with dreams
Carla’s small mouth was dreaming
As her knife began carving a poem into the table
I like hot voids, smooth pants, lazy beds in the rain
I like tongue petals, lather, a blistering sun
But what I like best is the worship of a luscious apparatus
When Carla was done carving she went back to her work station
And scooped shiny white goop into jars
That’s just how some people are their mouths get smaller with dreaming
The next day Jack took his own 1a.m. lunch break at the same picnic table
He noticed the poem carved into the wood
Although he didn’t know who had written it, he co-incidentally thought
‘Luscious apparatus’ aptly described him
So he took out his own knife and wrote luscious apparatus was here
After a few days both Jack and Carla happened to sit at the picnic table at the same time
They both started to look at the things carved in the table
Then they looked at each other
They knew who each other was
Carla’s mouth got small and dreamy, Jack’s eyes got round and hot.
When they got done with the graveyard shift
They went back to Jack’s apartment and had sex
Wordless sex, slow sex, fast sex talking sex
Sex like animals have, sex like boys have, sex like girls have
Sex upside down, sex inside out
Sex with grins, sex with tears
Sex, sex, sex

Then she noticed the knife by the side of Jack’s bed, Jack picked the knife up
And Carla knew at once that Jack’s wounds were from carving himself
Jack was trying to carve poems into himself
And now he wanted to carve some in her
This was where she drew the line
She’d have any kind of sex but not with a knife
When Carla refused to let Jack carve her up, Jack felt cheated and misled
He felt that by carving a poem in the table
Carla had been begging to be carved upon
Carla didn’t see it that way at all
She got up and started putting on her clothes
Jack went nuts, he was coming at her with a knife
Carla was scared, Carla was shaking and sweating
Then, because she was small and could move fast
She ducked and Jack tripped and fell
And impaled himself in the arm with his own knife
He howled and howled and Carla got the hell out of there fast
Carla didn’t think of Jack as a luscious apparatus after that
»

«Luscious Apparatus» - Unsound Methods - ="_blank" href="http://www.recoil.co.uk/">Recoil

Publicado por Moço de Recados | Máquinas de Esticar | Som & Fúria | 18:19
Comentários

Desfiz o oito, finalmente.

Afixado por: Moço de Recados em março 23, 2004 02:57 PM

Acho que vai ter quer ser o senhor a traduzir...

Afixado por: O Rivezoer em março 12, 2004 11:48 AM

a mim não me parece um guincho parece-me mais que anda fortemente a cuspir para o chão. O que de facto é uma grande porcaria.

Afixado por: a.r em março 12, 2004 11:19 AM

Torcido não mas tenho a garganta feita num oito, de cada vez que abro a boca sai um guincho... iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii... iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii... arrghrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr... pptiuuuuuuuuuuu!

Afixado por: MdR em março 12, 2004 11:07 AM

Desculpe, tentarei encontrar a tradução.

Afixado por: MdR em março 12, 2004 11:04 AM

Sr.Prusidente, fique sabendo que o Want é a preferida da M.C.

Afixado por: Moço de Recados em março 12, 2004 11:03 AM

Moço... e uma traduçãozita para os outros moços e moças duros de ouvido? Hein?

Afixado por: O Rivezoer em março 12, 2004 08:54 AM

Gosto muito desta também:
Want
«I want to know how it will end. I want to be sure of what it will cost. I want to strangle the stars for all they promised me. I want you to call me on your drug phone. I want to keep you alive so there is always the possibility of murder later. I want to be there when you learn the cost of desire. I want you to understand that my malevolence is just a way to win. I want the name of the ruiner. I want matches in case I have to suddenly burn. I want you to know that being kind is overrated. I want to write my secret across your sky. I want to watch you lose control. I want to watch you lose. I want to know exactly what it's going to take. I want to see you insert yourself into glory. I want your touches to scar me so I'll know where you've been. I want you to watch when I go down in flames. I want a list of atrocities done in your name. I want to reach my hand into the dark and feel what reaches back.I want to remember when my nightmares were clearer. I want to be there when your hot black rage rips wide open. I want to taste my own kind. I want to be wrapped in cold wet sheets to see if it's different on this side. I want you to come on strong. I want to leave you out in the cold. I want the exact same thing but different. I want some soft drugs...some soft, soft drugs. I want to throw you. I want you to know I know. I want to know if you read me. I want to swing with my eyes shut and see what I hit. I want to know just how much you hate me so I can predict what you'll do. I want you to know the wounds are self-inflicted. I want a controlling interest. I want to be somewhere beautiful when I die. I want to be your secret hater. I want to stop destroying you but I can't. And I want and I want and I want and I will always be hungry. And I want and I want and I want.»

Afixado por: O Prusidente da Junta em março 12, 2004 06:51 AM

Bela, belissima, optima escolha.
Hoje não deve andar de feitio torcido.

Afixado por: assussora remota em março 11, 2004 08:28 PM