quinta-feira, 11 de abril de 2013

A noite

Por que me persegue? Não percebe que estou amarrado?
Não há forças para correr, mesmo de dia, mas o dia me perdoa.
A noite é implacável! Quer me corroer, me consumir, me estilhaçar; de dentro das minha entranhas, resgatando qualquer tristeza tola o suficiente para achar que poderia fugir. Nada escapa!
A noite consome tudo! E nisso, vou ficando pra trás...e pra trás... corroído aos poucos, arrastado, esfolado, derrotado.
A bela lua me matou.

segunda-feira, 15 de agosto de 2011

"Está respirando?"

Num início de noite, ao som de Bartók, percebo - pobre de Bartleby.
Parece uma constatação tão óbvia que apenas alguém carregado de muito sofrimento pode surgir tão inventivo, criando, como Deleuze brilhantemente enuncia, até uma língua dentro da própria língua inglesa. Mas alguém checou o calor do corpo de B., antes deste parar definitivamente de respirar?
A língua do esgotado, do desistido, daquele que apenas prefer; potente e tudo mais. Grande Melville, mas esquecemos do calor de B. (uma vez que este não teria lágrimas para verter, assim nunca poderíamos esquecer de suas lágrimas).
À semelhança de Gregor Samsa, que sofre calado, apenas para nós, estamos ignorando o vazio de B. enquanto o contemplamos.

segunda-feira, 25 de julho de 2011


Arte não é, senão, tempo.
Um processo explosivo e compactador
de forças que se trombam num espaço-temporal,
que geram estrondos relampejantes nesse choque
guiado pela mão do artista.

A leve e imprecisa mão do artista.
A mão que molda um fluxo invisível e delicado de tempo.

Uma peça de piano não é arte no momento final que se completa,
arte só pode ser se incompleta, mesmo que já terminada,
incompleta enquanto ainda explode.

Arte não é, senão, tempo.
mesmo que seja um tempo instantâneo,
da previsão de um futuro que vem acontecendo
e que nunca chegará.

quinta-feira, 31 de março de 2011

The unspokable tale of you (part II)

Step, step, step.
Pain, pain, pain.
Why did it hurt so much to walk? Was it the lack of perspective?It always made it harder.Or the feeling of disapointment for the fear Polianna was feeling that he did not know that he could feel? But that's one thing about fear, we never know how big it's gonna be till sereval moments after it is.
It could also be the lack of time passing sense.
He could be there for a few days now, he would not know. Maybe it had been years! Or moments, seconds. Maybe he had alwyas been there, just dind't know. Or had it been a couple of lives since he started the walking journey; time in which his mother would have died, and so would Eva and they could be looking for him in the deepest alles of the underworld, without ever finding it...him.
How could they? He was not yet dead. But he was walking, since he didn't have anything else to do.
The obvious sequence of randon events following each other is the main reason this story was never told before. Men can rarely bear the free caos, it is his greater enemy, and what really happened to Polianna.
A few moments later he turned into a butterfly.
And was eaten by a chamealeon.

The unspokable tale of you (part I)

A long, long time ago...In a far, far away place, only known as Here, the events which I'm going to tell you took place.
This is the story of a man, and such story had never been told before for the cruel strenght of its components, or is it this the real reason? Anyhow, I think the real reason will speak for itself.
It was a shining sunny day, but that was miles away from where Polianna was, above the clouds that cast a gigantic shadow upon him.
There, shadow and the red dirty soil which rose as a red mist, as thick as it could be, still.
What was he doing there he could not tell. The last thing Polianna remembers was being in his apartament, with a computerly controled weather and which was always sunny with the bluest skies there is (if there is such in fact) and very few clouds traveling around, every once and then.
But now he was standing there, over a hard, brutal land with no landscape, so what could he do, but walk?
As he was striding down, along the pathless direction there was, he started thinking that even if he knew where he was going, would he really know where to go? Where could he return to?
A lousy job, which he hated?
A mediocre life in a safe building and neighborhood?
Or the few people who would miss him? The three or four of them? Or maybe two.
And among these people, for sure his girlfriend, Alice, was not included, for in fact, the day he had gone was the happiest of her life, for his vanishment was more than a relief, it was a work saver for her.
He did not disbelieve that she would cry for his departure for a couple of days, time enough to seek comfort in the arms of someone else. Maybe his friend: Freddy, who had always had eyes for Alice. But let that be, for in the red mist he was, that did not matter, at all.
His mother would surely miss him, for now and maybe the remaining days of her life, unfortunatly, there were only a handfull, for she suffered from a disease, an illness of the nerves, as the doctors would say, which caused her brain to degenerate indefinetly.
She didn't require him, she had medical assistence in her house, which was paid with the money earned from the life ensurance left from his father, in the event of his early death.
His father had died in a terrible tragedy - an airplane crash, as sudden and brutal as it can be, he left early (that might be the fate of Polianna's family). He would probably miss him too.
It did not make sense one have this kind of thoughts in such a harsh place and so Polianna tryed to concentrate in each step taken (for guilty), but it was too hard, for each step taken would cause such a tremendous pain in both feet. But the thought of stopping was to create a pain even worse, the impression of a soul shattering into million of pieces and getting lost as soon as they entered the thick mist. Maybe it was the survival instinct speaking.
-Eva must miss me!
Polianna thought, for she was such a good friend, they had always got along well, since high school times. She was a person who really cares for a friend and looked after Polianna in several ocasions (But why in such a red mist any of this things would really matter?).
Once they tried to have something, but it didn't work out, it really seemed like they were meant to be just friends. Though most people think not, it's possible for men and women to share this fate.
Maybe Eva was the only one that could really miss him.
- Such suffer, ain't I a terrible friend?