?

Log in

No account? Create an account

slides
rosas
innersmile
Até uma destas noites, eu só tinha ouvido o Richard Harris (esse da fama tardia com o Professor Dumbledore da série Harry Potter) a cantar/dizer o tema 'Slides', umas quatro ou cinco vezes na vida. Tanto quanto me lembro, todas as vezes que o ouvi foi num programa da RFM, Oceano Pacífico, que era transmitido à noite. Não sei se ainda há esse programa, praticamente não ouço rádio à noite, e quando ouço normalmente é a Antena 2, para me fazer companhia quando estou a ler.

Mas apesar de o ter ouvido tão poucas vezes, ele estava completo na minha cabeça, o que mostra a impressão forte que me causou. Recordava-me da estrutura da canção, da melodia, toda, e de alguns pedaços da letra. E isto, como digo, com muitas poucas audições, muito espaçadas no tempo, e há muito tempo. É uma canção muito dramática, no sentido em que é intensa, mas também no de que conta uma história, ou melhor ela própria é uma história. E é uma canção evocativa, que nos fala de paisagens, de recordações, de viagens, de pessoas que encontrámos em circunstâncias especiais.

Tentei várias vezes encontrá-lo na net, mas nada, nem para ouvir, nem para download, nem a letra, nem um clip no YouTube. Tinha-o apenas encontrado num disco à venda na Amazon, e várias vezes pensei encomendar o disco só para poder ouvir o tema. Mas uma destas noites, já nem sei porquê, lembrei-me dele novamente e tornei a procurá-lo na net. E desta vez correu bem: encontrei o clip na net, que vou pôr a seguir, e até encontrei a letra num blog português. Cá para mim também devia ser um ouvinte do Oceano Pacífico, todas as pessoas que eu sei que conhecem este tema, ouviram-no nesse programa. Nem vale a pena explicar muito porque é que ele me toca tanto, mas há na voz do Richard Harris, nas palavras que ele diz e sobretudo no modo como o faz, alguma coisa que me transmite uma espécie de tranquilidade resiliente, uma maneira de resistir com serenidade aos golpes e às adversidades da vida, de estarmos bem, em paz, mesmo quando as coisas não correm bem, quando estamos desapontados ou tristes.

Eu sei que não passa de uma coincidência, mas é curioso que encontrei o clip e a letra da canção numa noite particularmente má, em que estava, isso mesmo, triste e desapontado. Em que, mais uma vez, alguém de quem gosto muito não me tratou com a consideração, o respeito, e mesmo o amor que eu acho que lhe tenho e que mereço em retorno. Se calhar até foi por isso que eu fui procurar mais uma vez a canção. Porque precisava que o Richard Harris me dissesse, mais uma vez, que "somehow I'll get by, I will endure, living well is my best revenge".



«‘Morning chaps. I’d like to welcome you back to the third form of your years, I trust you’ll thrive in here. Others in the past have come alive in here. Happy to say they found their way.
You recall I asked, back when I saw you last, that you’d consult my list of books for summer reading. We’ll go over those and others you’ll be needing for the coming year, if I’m still here. I suppose you heard the word that’s going about, my superiors doubt I’m fit to teach you. Have a nip before the game and they’ll impeach you. Forget about the fact that I reach you. I reach you.
Well, enough of that. Lets get on with it. I’ve arranged to show some slides that might amuse you. And if, of course, you’re bored, then I’ll excuse you. Though what you’re about to see, in times of sickness, is my cure, living well is my best revenge, you can be sure.

This is the Grand Canyon, in the great State of Arizona. See there, the magnificent blend of all the colours of the rainbow. It is virtually unphotographable at any given point it is so vast. The Colorado River trickles through its base like a deeply buried brook. Geologists say that with time and erosion the Pacific Ocean, some 300 miles West, will one day reach the Canyon and flow through there.
I camped here, see? Right there. Oh, what peace I found. The only sounds I heard were the sounds I made. No-no, it is true.
And here beyond, on a remote roadside stand, an Indian boy planted himself arms folded beneath a sign that said “seashells should lead the world”.
This is a hobo, a dying bread. A pity. He claimed that an inheritance fortune awaited him in a bank back East but he couldn’t care less.
There’s more of them. The one with the umbrella claimed to be the real Mr. Bojangles.
Sunset.
Another sunset. I know it looks undistinguishable from the last but I remember the difference.
Vancouver, British Columbia. I spent some time there at a ski lodge. Something so healthy and wholesome about skiers.
Like this one. She always seemed to appear when I took a slip on the slops where I had no business being. But I’d look up and there she’d be. And soon it happen that whenever she’d turned and look up, there I’d be.
The chalet. Inside there, by a warm fire, is where my mind has want to wander now. To the scent of pine and the taste of wine. You’re too young for wine now but make a note of it.
There she is again. We rented those horses for a day. See mine? His name was... Oh what was it now? I forget. Oh yes, it was sugar.
And there’s my friend again. She looks rather sad there. It seems that everyday, well, she always had some special plan for us.
And this, this is a beautiful Indian girl. Look at her! She and her secret mysterious ways. The pride of her people. Our sunshine, they said of her.
This was the road South into Oregon.
This is how logs are transported, long rafts that trail the northwest rivers.
Big Sur, California.
An old Spanish Mission.
Carmel, California. Those trees seemed frozen against the landscape. They remind me of a book I once heard of called The Cypresses Believe in God.
This was near the end of my adventure. The clock in my head told me it was time to leave. So that I was more concerned with seeing what I could first hand rather then rush for the camera. I find that travelling alone is somehow more realistic then with others. You find yourself in a new place all alone and you deal with it as oppose to when you’re with others who are familiar to you and in a sense shelter you from situations you would otherwise meet head on. You know what I mean? Besides, if your loved ones are with you, you have no one to go home to.

So on Monday, Lord, I’ll go before the Board and hear what adjective they give this life I live. It makes me laugh that they should write my epitaph. But somehow I’ll get by, I’ve got my slides, I will endure, living well is my best revenge, you can be sure. Yes, in times of doubt, in times of sickness, they’re my cure. Living well is my best revenge, you can be sure.»