Where the Hell is Matt? (2008) from Matthew Harding on Vimeo.

You can call it another lonely day

Resuena el canal 3 en mis oidos

Check out the catsuits...

How can I tell you, Cat Stevens

How can I tell you that I love you, I love you
But I can't think of right words to say
I long to tell you that I'm always thinking of you
I'm always thinking of you, but my words
just blow away, just blow away

It always ends up to one thing, honey
And I can't think of right words to say

Wherever I am girl, I'm always walking with you
I'm always walking with you, but I look and you're not there
Whoever I'm with, I'm always, always talking to you
I'm always talking to you, and I'm sad that
You can't hear, sad that you can't hear

It always ends up to one thing, honey,
When I look and you're not there

I need to know you, need to feel my arms around you
Feel my arms around you, like a sea around a shore
And each night and day I pray, in hope
That I might find you, in hope that I might
Find you, because hearts can do no more

It always ends up to one thing honey, still I kneel upon the floor
How can I tell you that I love you, I love you
But I can't think of right words to say

I long to tell you that I'm always thinking of you
I'm always thinking of you....
It always ends up to one thing honey
And I can't think of right words to say

...

Diario íntimo revisitado...

Dylan Sundays

Para leer, atentamente

A Hard Rain's A-Gonna Fall

Oh, where have you been, my blue-eyed son?
Oh, where have you been, my darling young one?
I've stumbled on the side of twelve misty mountains,
I've walked and I've crawled on six crooked highways,
I've stepped in the middle of seven sad forests,
I've been out in front of a dozen dead oceans,
I've been ten thousand miles in the mouth of a graveyard,
And it's a hard, and it's a hard, it's a hard, and it's a hard,
And it's a hard rain's a-gonna fall.

Oh, what did you see, my blue-eyed son?
Oh, what did you see, my darling young one?
I saw a newborn baby with wild wolves all around it
I saw a highway of diamonds with nobody on it,
I saw a black branch with blood that kept drippin',
I saw a room full of men with their hammers a-bleedin',
I saw a white ladder all covered with water,
I saw ten thousand talkers whose tongues were all broken,
I saw guns and sharp swords in the hands of young children,
And it's a hard, and it's a hard, it's a hard, it's a hard,
And it's a hard rain's a-gonna fall.

And what did you hear, my blue-eyed son?
And what did you hear, my darling young one?
I heard the sound of a thunder, it roared out a warnin',
Heard the roar of a wave that could drown the whole world,
Heard one hundred drummers whose hands were a-blazin',
Heard ten thousand whisperin' and nobody listenin',
Heard one person starve, I heard many people laughin',
Heard the song of a poet who died in the gutter,
Heard the sound of a clown who cried in the alley,
And it's a hard, and it's a hard, it's a hard, it's a hard,
And it's a hard rain's a-gonna fall.

Oh, who did you meet, my blue-eyed son?
Who did you meet, my darling young one?
I met a young child beside a dead pony,
I met a white man who walked a black dog,
I met a young woman whose body was burning,
I met a young girl, she gave me a rainbow,
I met one man who was wounded in love,
I met another man who was wounded with hatred,
And it's a hard, it's a hard, it's a hard, it's a hard,
It's a hard rain's a-gonna fall.

Oh, what'll you do now, my blue-eyed son?
Oh, what'll you do now, my darling young one?
I'm a-goin' back out 'fore the rain starts a-fallin',
I'll walk to the depths of the deepest black forest,
Where the people are many and their hands are all empty,
Where the pellets of poison are flooding their waters,
Where the home in the valley meets the damp dirty prison,
Where the executioner's face is always well hidden,
Where hunger is ugly, where souls are forgotten,
Where black is the color, where none is the number,
And I'll tell it and think it and speak it and breathe it,
And reflect it from the mountain so all souls can see it,
Then I'll stand on the ocean until I start sinkin',
But I'll know my song well before I start singin',
And it's a hard, it's a hard, it's a hard, it's a hard,
It's a hard rain's a-gonna fall.

...

La cumbre de la ochentosidad

Que vuelvan los lentossssss

La tía de Whitney!

uauuuuu

Domingo

homenaje de Fernando a Johnson

Una historia de amor, claro

fin de año

Ayer, en fin de año.
Por breves instantes me sentí como dentro de una peli de Woody Allen.
Por la música, claro.
Algunos personajes eran bastante más siniestros en la realidad...
Woody, un poroto.