Runcible Blog

failing boot

I need to fix my boot before it wears a hole in my ankle.


Manhã de Carnaval

Even though Manhã de Carnaval has been covered hundreds of times, nobody has come close to the haunting delivery of the original Luiz Bonfá version from 1959. It's hard to tell who exactly sings this version because I can't find any liner notes, but I assume it was Bonfá, himself (though the vocal version is in Gm instead of Am). I also can't find any videos of him playing and singing the song.

Whoever sings it, his voice has stuck with me for years. The female singers who've covered it — Joan Baez, Astrud Gilberto, Caterina Valente, etc. — simply can't touch the original. Maybe it needs that tenor voice to give it the power it deserves. Or maybe it's Bonfá's talent — Perry Como sang an English version that sounds similar but has watered-down, corny lyrics.

Manhã de Carnaval is such a beautifully romantic song about longing and hope. While it's played in a minor key with a melancholy mood, there's true happiness blooming underneath.

Manhã, tão bonita manhã
Na vida, uma nova canção
Cantando só teus olhos
Teu riso, tuas mãos
Pois há de haver um dia
Em que virás

Das cordas do meu violão
Que só teu amor procurou
Vem uma voz
Falar dos beijos perdidos
Nos lábios teus

Canta o meu coração
Alegria voltou
Tão feliz a manhã
Deste amor

The Prestige

The Prestige is much better than I thought it would be. I had resisted seeing it when it came out two years ago because I had recently seen The Illusionist and assumed that "The Prestige" would be another silly romance with magicians. Boy, was I wrong. There are some great nuggets in this film, including David Bowie as Nicola Tesla, the Tesla/Edison side story, a decent performance from Scarlett Johansson, and the twist at the end. The writing doesn't pander to the audience too much, and the leads remain focused on portraying the determination behind their rivalry. There's no cheesy romance to side track Hugh Jackman and Christian Bale. They could take Edward Norton any day.

I regret unfairly judging such a great film based solely on a bad experience with a movie from the same genre.

like a ship in the night

It's been ages since I last wandered around Central Square at night. Tonight, as I stood at a corner on Mass Ave, who did I see? Katie. Even with my fluorescent-light abused eyes, I could recognize those legs from a mile away. She was in quite a hurry, got in her car, and scooted away. If she did spot me, I hope she wasn't in a hurry to get away from me, but I wouldn't doubt it.

I am sure that she has gotten back with the ex she was in love with when we were together, and I bet that any contact with me would dredge up unwanted memories for her. She continues to affect me, even to this day. It's odd how latent feelings about someone can linger for so long. Usually the memories that last are either very positive or very negative; with Katie, they're very positive, in spite of everything that went afoul and despite our short run together. She's the one who got away.

Que sera, sera.

is it weird?

Is it weird that every time I come home, before I unlock the door, I turn the doorknob to check whether the door is already unlocked, which would mean that someone broke into my apartment and may still be inside waiting for me?  I don't think it's weird.  I figure, it's best to be prepared to face an intruder.  Am I right?

Also, sometimes when I walk down the hall in the dark, I make a sudden turn into my bedroom on the assumption that I'd catch a looming burglar off guard.  Now who has the element of surprise?  Hmm?

Maybe I've watched far too many movies where a character comes home and absentmindedly looks at the floor or the coat rack without noticing the rapist with the piano wire standing behind the door.  Not me.  No sir.  Any rapist in my house is going to have to be a little more clever to violate me.  And the piano wire trick might not work, either, because sometimes I walk around with my hands in front of me, ready to grab that piano wire before it gets to my neck!

I walk on my toes when I'm barefoot, not only because it's much quieter that way, but because it's better to have a forward-leaning stance if some common criminal happened to pop out of a closet or dive through the window.  It's bad enough having to face a surprise attack while you're naked and drowsy – why be at a worse disadvantage by standing around on the heels of your feet?  Think about it.


On second thought, I'm kind of weird.