PrincipeAzul

28, Masculino, Estados Unidos
https://twitter.com/HeFlag…Última visita: fevereiro 2015

131136 execuções desde 2 Jan 2008

215 Faixas preferidas | 2 Posts | 1 Lista | 101 mensagens

  • Adicionar
  • Enviar mensagem
  • Deixar recado

Seu grau de compatibilidade musical com PrincipeAzul é Desconhecido

Crie seu próprio perfil musical

Últimas faixas

Caixa de mensagens

Deixe um comentário. Faça login na Last.fm ou registre-se.

Sobre mim

I wanted him from the moment I saw him. I might not have been able to say exactly what I felt when I looked over at Edney but I knew that whatever it was, I wanted more. I just looked at him and got torn up. The Whitesides were Cherokee Indians and looking at Edney I realized why people called them Red. His skin was a rich ochre and it glowed like there was a light behind it, always. All the Whitesides had black hair which hung straight and beautiful, but Edney’s was like his grandmother’s, shining and full. He was a little taller than me and handsome, with great brown eyes tinged with olive. I watched him carefully for a few days and he seemed to be alone most of the time. He was too old to go to school and he hung around the yard, fixing things up for his parents as they settled in.
Edney was shy too, and so although he was just as interested in me as I was in him, we circled around darting glances when we each thought the other wasn’t looking, neither saying a word, until one Sunday morning he came up to me after church and asked if he could walk me home. He could have rolled me home in a barrel if he wanted. Soon we were boyfriend and girlfriend, and would stay so until I was seventeen. He smelt wonderful, better than any other man I have ever known, and getting next to him, leaning my head on his shoulder as we sat in his car, gave me real physical pleasure long before we kissed or touched each other.
We met at four in the afternoon every Sunday on an official date. From the moment we started going together our families approved, and everyone assumed that one day we would get married. It seemed like destiny. On Sundays we’d get into his dark green Chevrolet and drive up to Edneyville, the town he was named from, to see his grandmother. She lived in a small house next to a peach orchard, and after visiting her we’d sit in the Chevy to talk. As the sun went down over the mountains I’d run my fingers through his hair, the car would smell sweet with a mixture of peaches and Edney, and I hardly dared kiss him for fear of starting something I wouldn’t have the will to stop.
When Momma and Miz Mazzy told me about it the idea of living away from home didn’t bother me. My parents wanted me to do it and I wasn’t going to disobey them, and although I knew I’d miss Edney he promised to visit me every Sunday and we both had this unshakeable faith that once I finished school I’d come back to Tryon and we’d get married. I might have been experiencing strong feelings for Edney, I might have felt increasingly separated from my family, I might have lost my closest friend when Lucille went to Philadelphia, but I was still an obedient child and if everyone wanted me to go to school in Asheville then I’d go – and enjoy it.
By now Edney and I had left innocent kissing far behind. One summer he went to Youngstown, Ohio for a few weeks and came back wearing a new suit, looking as good as I had ever seen him. I wasn’t the only one who noticed, and it struck me the whispered promises of what was to come might not be enough to keep my man interested. I didn’t blame him, because I wanted to make love as much as he did – I’d wanted to since I was twelve years old. The question disturbed me: if Edney and I were going to marry anyway, why couldn’t we make love now? Daddy – no fool – told me to ask Momma. So I did. She said what you would expect a mother to say, and after she told Mrs. Whiteside of our conversation Edney got told the same in stronger language. That was the end of it. We were obedient children, to my eternal regret.
Although it might seem like a juvenile affair, Edney and I were a lot more than that. We weren’t giddy teenagers, we were the children of poor families who worked hard to move up and who knew one piece of bad luck could send a whole family spinning back down into poverty. Our parents didn’t want us to get married just because we looked cute together; it made sense to them for all sorts of reasons, romantic and economic. And I knew how lonely music made me, how I couldn’t talk about it to anyone and how the hours I devoted to it stopped me from having a normal life. In Tryon and even in my family, as I grew older, I was regarded as an exception, as not like them. I was out on my own. In Edney, whom I loved and who loved me, I had someone to connect with, to tie me to the real world, to love more than music.
So commencement came around in June and I gave the Valedictorian’s speech and posed for my graduation photograph in a beautiful long gown. Edney and his parents sat with my family, Miz Mazzy and Mrs. Miller. He already had an idea what the older folks wanted, and listening to Momma and Miz Mazzy outlining their plans confirmed it. We walked together after the ceremony and talked. He said, ‘If you go to New York you won’t ever come back. We both know that. So if we don’t get married now it will never happen, and if you go I’ll marry your best friend.’ That’s what it came down to. On one side was music, Miz Mazzy, my family, all those long hours of practice and the aspirations of the town I was born in and of my race as well, of my own people. On the other side was Edney, all alone.
We didn’t have a chance, either of us. Back home in Tryon a few days later I told him that I was going to New York. He didn’t say anything, just pushed me backwards and tried to kiss me, tried to force himself on me, tried to make love to me, as if he saw all those years of self-control laid out behind him to no purpose. In some way he was trying to rape me, but it wasn’t frightening or dangerous – it was sad and funny at the same time. I laughed as he grabbed on to me, not understanding that he was trying to keep me there any way he could, including by force. He couldn’t do it – he didn’t know how because he wasn’t a brute, he was a sensitive beautiful man and he couldn’t do it and I laughed and laughed until he jumped and walked away.
I left for New York and Edney married Annie Mae and they moved into his father’s house. I had given Edney a copy of my graduation photograph and he and Annie Mae kept it on their piano. Nobody was allowed to touch it.
Over the next few years when I came to Tryon to visit my family I’d meet Mrs. Whiteside, Edney’s mother, and she’d say: ‘Why didn’t you come get my boy? Why didn’t you come get my boy?’ And I’d say something like; ‘Well, maybe I’ll be back in a couple of years.’ She’d look at me; ‘You’ve got to come get him, Eunice, you’re my girl. You’ve got to come get Edney.’
Later I was having some success in New York and when I was back in Tryon again she saw me and said; ‘Take him this time, take him, take Edney.’ Then my family moved away from Tryon, and the only reason I went back was to visit Miz Mazzy and try to catch a look at him. I’d see him across the street, sometimes just the back of his head. I talked to him once, about eight years after he married Annie Mae. I asked him why he did it.
‘It was a fool’s thing to do,’ he said, ‘but I was young, and didn’t know enough not to marry for spite.’
We looked at each other.
‘What did we do wrong?’ I asked him.
‘We waited,’ he said.
Time passed. I traveled all over the world, lived a life I could never have imagined and knew all sorts of love. One day I found myself in Tryon again, alone. I was miserable, and it seemed like God was punishing me for leaving Edney all those years ago. So I decided to claim him at last. I dressed in red, green and black, put on an Yves St Laurent hat and set out. I had my car stop at his house and walked up to the door. Two of his five children stood on the doorstep. They were gigantic. ‘Where’s your Daddy?’ I asked them.
They pointed to the basement. I went down, passing Mrs. Whiteside on the stairs, the same woman that had begged me to come find her son so many times. I looked at her and said: ‘I’ve come to get him, Mrs. Whiteside.’ Two more of his children were at the bottom of the staircase, even bigger than the two at the door. They pointed at a chair in the corner of the room, and there he was.
When I looked at him the rest of the room disappeared. All I saw was a shadow, a man broken by hard work and not enough fun, a skeleton in a weakened body. He was only forty-six years old. I put my hands out to touch his face. ‘What on God’s earth have they done to you?’ I whispered. Then I held him close for around a minute until he remembered his children watching and pulled away. Time stopped for a while. I told him that I was staying over at Miz Mazzy’s and I needed to see him, so he should call me. Then I left.
The next morning the phone rang. It was Edney’s mother, saying, ‘Now Eunice, you waited too long to come for Edney. Every single time I asked you to come get my boy you wouldn’t do it, and now it’s too late. What happened last night can’t happen any more.’
I knew she was right, that he had a life and children he couldn’t escape from, but I cried all the same. I asked her about my photograph, and she told me that it was where it had always been, on the piano. I was hurt so much I said, ‘Well, it won’t be of any value to you now, will it?’
She said that they’d had it for twenty-eight years, but that made no difference to me at the moment.
‘Can I have it back?’ I said.
Mrs. Whiteside agreed that if I called round that evening at ten and sat outside in my car she would bring it to me.
All our years of missed opportunity were in that photograph of me in blue with my hair in bangs, styled in a flip and looking so pretty I couldn’t stand myself. All those wasted years. That night I sat in the car as instructed and his mother brought it out. She said ‘I’m not telling Edney and I’m not telling Granddaddy where it went.’ And I said ‘If this is the end then I definitely want it.’
She passed it through the window into the limousine and we drove away. I couldn’t see my young face in the photograph through the tears. I remembered Edney’s favourite song, ‘My Happiness’, and I sang it in my head – ‘Evening shadows make me blue, when each weary day is through. How I long to be with you, My Happiness.’
That was our song. I lost the photograph soon afterwards. I think I left it at Duke Ellington’s house. Years later I was sitting on the beach in Barbados having a good time with some friends when I heard ‘My Happiness’ coming out of a little transistor radio. I cried like a baby all over again, and nothing my friends said could stop the tears.


From I Put A Spell On You: The Autobiography of Nina Simone

Grupos (2)