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Location: Hermosillo, Mexico

Life insists on imposing itself like a bad house guest. I still look for meaning when most people around me are just trying to find the breaks. I'm attempting both and laughing so I don't cry. No one reads this sh*t.

Monday, May 09, 2005

BY GEORGE!!

Rawrr...

Hace un par de noches fuimos toda la bola al blockbuster a buscar algo que ver para estrenar el home theater de la Shofa. Ibamos como 20 (si, exagero, ahorita con cualquier grupito me engento), y sabia que la tarea de encontrar algo en lo que todos estuvieramos de acuerdo iba a ser tarea de una hora al menos. Bueno, el tiempo se corto como a la mitad gracias a que cierta vejiga de bellota estuvo a punto de reventar. Alguien tomo una desicion ejecutiva, se paso por el arco del triunfo el hecho de que al Coche le caga Ben Stiller, y salimos del block con Meet the Fockers, y yo con un DVD de George Michael.

Un tipo (sorry, tipo, no me se tu nombre) de los que andaban con el grupo me lo quito de las manos y me dijo "Es el del baño?"

Y yo...

"si... es el del baño..."

Casi todos a quienes les he mostrado el dvd se han quedado muy extrañados. Todos recuerdan a Michael, y aun los que dicen que no, en cuanto oyen Kissing a Fool o Careless Whisper dicen "aaaaah!!! ese es???". Es una de esas cosas curiosas que se quedan grabadas en la memoria de todo ser que ha pasado aunque sea nomas oliendo por los ochentas. Hasta el mismisimo Hyde canto Careless Whisper en un programa de variedades (con un ingles horrible... tengo el video para dar fe de ello). Pero nadie concibe un fan... o alguien que lo admire lo suficiente como para comprar un disco de grandes exitos. Y tengo que ser sincera, no hubiera comprado ese disco de no haber sido porque alguien me inculco el amor por la voz y la pasion del britanico jarioso. Alguien que tomo un microfono el primero de enero, y canto, al compas de una pista sintetica de karaoke barato, las melancolicas letras de One More Try.

...

cortan...

pero que bonito duele...

-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-

I've Had Enough Of Danger
And people on the streets
I'm looking out for angels
Just trying to find some peace
Now i think it's time
That you let me know
So if you love me
Say you love me
But if you don't
I just let me go....

'Cos teacher
There are things that i don't want to learn
And the last one i had
Made me cry
So i don't want to learn to
Hold you, touch you
Think that you're mine
Because it ain't no joy
For an uptown boy
Whose teacher has told him goodbye

When you were just a stranger
And i was at your feet
I didn't feel the danger
Now i feel the hear
That look in your eyes
Telling me no
So you think that you love me
Know that you need me
I wrote the song, i know it's wrong
Just let me go....

And teacher
There are things
That i don't want to learn
Oh the last one i had
Made me cry
So i don't want to learn to
Hold you, touch you
Think that you're mine

Because it ain't no joy
For an uptown boy
Whose teacher has told him goodbye
So when you say that you need me
That you'll never leave me
I know you're wrong , you're not that strong
Let me go

And teacher
There are things
That i still have to learn
Hut the one thing i have is my pride
Oh so i don't want to
Hold you, touch you
Think that you're mine
Because there ain't no joy
For an uptown boy
Who just isn't willing to try
I'm so cold inside
Maybe just one more try

1 Comments:

Blogger NK said...

Hay camaras en Liverpool? o.O

May 9, 2005 at 9:57 PM  

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