arrange something

by deav - 27 feb 2008

SCREEEEESH … DRUUMM!


She trembled violently and opened her eyes. Panting, heart beating fast, she was disoriented at first, in the dark. Someone was screaming and shouting outside, but at first it felt like a nightmare.

Fuck, she thought, lying back down, still shaking and nauseous with her heart in her throat. She tried to focus her ear above the sound of the fan. Someone was cursing really loud; to her it meant that nobody had been seriously hurt. She took a deep breath and turned to the side.

“Fuck,” she said low, when she accidentally saw the alarm clock: 4 am, universal insomnia time; wake-up-in-the-middle-of-the-night time; cry-yourself-to-sleep time; and, apparently, wake-up-trembling-because-of-the-sound-of-a-car-crash time. Sometimes it was a gunshot. She could go on and on about 4 am, but she just wanted to go back to sleep.

“Fuck,” she grunted, knowing that going back to sleep would not be so easy. She rolled to her back and spread arms and legs. Eyes adjusted to the dark, the streetlights made the room annoyingly illuminated. The noise of the fan was just as annoying. She snorted, irritated.

And then she sneezed. Of course, it was hot, but the artificial wind against her naked skin made her shiver. There was the dust, too.

I have to vacuum the room, she thought, rolling to the other side and wrapping herself in the sheet. On the weekend. Maybe clean the top of the wardrobe. Change bedclothes too. Maybe she could finally clear the armoire and give all the empty folders to her nieces. After all, they’re plastic, good quality, for school. But then she would have to clean the vacuum cleaner… That was no problem. But for the clothes recently washed, she would have to take them from the hanger and keep them before cleaning the dust bag, otherwise they would get dusty, because of the wind. It always winds. She remembered the old house, the windstorms that used to shake the window frames. And that mini tornado, she had spent the night on the couch, grabbing her purse, watching tree branches fly by the window in the living room. On the eleventh floor.

“Shit,” she whispered, when she remembered that she had to repair the rack hanger in the wardrobe, collapsed under the weight of the clothes that now piled up on the inner shelf. Was she doing the same thing here, she wondered, let the house crumble down? It seemed the two houses were twins, it seemed that they were somehow connected, in a spooky way; the new one had developed problems in the same areas as in the old one. That leak on the bathroom ceiling. The clogging in the lock of the front door. Windows that don’t lock. Useful things piling up in the service room for future use. But she did not want to think about that. She had to sleep.

She turned to the other side to face the fan, feeling hot all of a sudden. Maybe it was time to give the old furniture for donation. She was feeling suffocated, as if things were cluttering around her. She didn’t need the rocking chair. Or the colossal bookshelf/tv rack. It was about time to change the couch, too. Yes, just get rid of it. She could give away the books too; and the cds, her brother-in-law would be thrilled.

“Good plan,” she mumbled, pulling the sheet to her shoulders. She forced the lids shut, trying to ignore the dim. That old mattress in the service room would have to go, definitely. She could assemble the single bed again in the spare room and use a futon for mattress. And the couch would go to the living room. Without the bookshelf, she would need another piece of furniture for the tv set. She wondered if that good store was still open, they had lovely pieces. Maybe this time there would be enough money to buy the crystal closet she’s always dreamed of, to keep her trinkets, stones, crystal jars, candles. Her hourglass collection, of course.

“Right,” she yawned, rolling again to the other side, grabbing the sheet by her breast but leaving the feet out. Maybe this way she could have friends for dinner; use that book of Greek recipes at last. It would be nice to have people in the house other than the cable guy or the doorman. Maybe he would come and she would not be ashamed of the mess.

“Not again,” she said out loud, opening her eyes. She sighed and closed them again slowly, holding back a stubborn tear. She knew that he would never come. She cuddled herself and cried, deeply, quietly. No one would hear her with the noise of the fan. Next thing she would wake up with the maddening sound of the alarm clock, not even noticing that she had fallen asleep. As usual.

twelve words

twelve words - 03 oct 2007
by deav

mark, social, spark, flaw, illuminate, embark, follow, school, rule, knuckles, lady, worn


another day breaks
as sunbeams spark
i think of you
like some daily rule

dreams illuminate
the old car park
i think of you
it’s somehow new

is it a social flaw
to cry as you embark?
i wave to you
like sending you to school

another day worn
that old shadows mark
i think of you
i’m the lady of fool

scraped knuckles ache
stain the wall in the dark
i think of you
if i could follow you...

Ben Harper and Donavon Frankenreiter in Rio (Claro Hall - Jan 25th, 2007)

i have to bear witness to the transcendent event i took part in last night, when i saw Ben Harper and Donavon Frankenreiter play in Rio. yes, i've been a somewhat distant admirer of Ben since "Excuse me Mr.", i got the album “Diamonds On The Inside”, i was thrilled when he sang with Pearl Jam at the Madson Square Garden in 2003 (PJ's "Indifference" and "With my own two hands" as a tag for PJ's Daughter), i was aware that my favorite song was "She's only happy in the Sun". also i think "Free" is a nice song. ok. but nothing could have prepared me for what i was about to experience.

Donavon played first and i was blown away; the man goes way beyond "Free": an amazing blues/soulman, great guitar player, beautiful voice. and a kind of gentleness, of modesty, like he felt a little awkward for being literally acclaimed by the crowd, like "you know, man, that's just these things i play". i don't know, that's what i felt. i became an instant fan. one hour was not enough.

worthy of note was the performance of guests, two members of a famous brazilian rock band, Kid Abelha: Paula Toller (vocals) and George Israel (sax).

when Ben came on stage, the first thing that struck me was his seriousness. what could be perceived at first as some lack of interaction with the crowd, later on revealed itself as a profound respect for the music and this genuine spiritual way of addressing a song, like each one of them was something sacred. for about three hours, give and take, Ben and the Innocent Criminals just pushed the boundaries of what is considered a "jam". the man is really a monster of the slide. every song comes from somewhere deep inside of him, he sings with his body, his heart and soul.

the show ended and nobody in the audience left. after what seemed too long, Ben came back for the encore. he played two accoustics, just him and the guitar, this halo of light around him. 8000 people singing along. really, no-one wanted to leave. the band came back and all of a sudden Ben was literally preaching to the crowd! he left the mic, went to the edge of the stage and with only the power of his voice he sang. the band playing really low. the crowd willing to scream and he asking for silence. and he kept singing. i can tell, the man had the Holy Spirit in him. unbelievable.

the highlights were "Get up, Stand up", with a brazilian flag on the back wall of the stage and "Diamonds on the inside", with Donavon singing together.

after that, the band remained on stage and Ben said some words of thank you. i could tell that the experience had been as intense for him as it had been for me. he said sorry for not speaking our language, said that he would try to express how grateful he was. he said "you're the soul of the soul". he was amazed by the way "we played so many different things and you just went along", his hand moving like a wave. then they all held a brazilian flag together.

they were really happy. the bass player was the happiest, because people just loved him, his playing and his beautiful voice, and they kept calling him "Tim Maia", a famous and really missed brazilian musician.

i was in awe last night and have been in this state of joy ever since. i feel like i had one of those rare moments when you realise you just took one step ahead into becoming yourself. and for that i'm forever grateful.

land of the blind (by deav)
Rio, Jan 2007


if you think you're safe
up your ivory tower
know there’s a greater power
locks won’t keep them out

if your feet is on the ground
you go on the simple way
take a good look around
that won’t keep them out

by or against the law
steel walls turned to straw
they’ll get your head down anyway

reason is just no use
you think you got nothing to lose
they’ll rape your women anyway

if you live by your belief
go on the righteous way
you just can’t keep your peace
faith won’t keep them out

if you fight to make a change
take justice in your hands
beware that in the end
you don’t become “them”

hero or heavy hand
no matter which side you stand
they’ll kill your children anyway

ideas misguided as flags
another turn of the hourglass
they’ll burn your poets anyway…


* * *

blue (by deav)
Rio, Dez 2006

a late tide brings me crumbs of a song
i think of you as i sing along
my memory tells me what i know that is true
you’re still my favorite shade of blue

since you’ve been gone (well, you never really came)
my life goes on pretty much the same
every time i try to change my way
it’s like sneezing on an ashtray
you know?

time has a way of making ways shorter
time has a way of making things smaller
of making sweeter the pain
and me fall in love again

i fall in love with ghosts of dead men
always either too early or too late
but till the day that i die
you’ll be my favorite reason to cry…

a movie comes with a year delay
i think of you as i watch it today
my heart reminds me of that moment of truth
you’re still my favorite shade of blue

time has a way…


my favorite shade of blue…

* * *