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?

segunda-feira, 28 de março de 2011

Belas e feias contradições; mas no fim, humano, demasiadamente humano

"Não confio em ninguém que não se contradiz"

Essa citação que sempre uso, mas nunca lembro o autor vai iniciar essa mini-jornada pelo reino do nada.
Esse tudo que permeia a vida social e política, dos interesses e motivações, motivos e vontades, desejos e desejar pelos outros, os outros, com os outros, sozinho:
"Raramente se engana quando se liga o exagerado à vaidade, o mediocre ao costume e o mesquinho ao medo"
Nietzsche - Humano, demasiadamente humano. (citação recolhida da Wikipédia)

As pessoas querem ser mandadas. É mais fácil, para ambos os lados - e não querem escolher quem os manda. Aqueles que querem não são pessoas contemporâneas, são máquinas do tempo, de um tempo remoto e atual, tragadas para os dias de hoje através de livros vermelhos.
Ótimo, quando alguém quer se preocupar com o que ninguém mais quer. Que não encham nosso saco!
Sempre achei lindo o direito de se abster; a política envolvida nas entranhas daqueles que não se metem na política. Quem fala sobre isso põe pra fora o que não pode ficar dentro de si, os engajados políticos não são os preocupados com a sociedade, são os egoístas e entediados, que odeiam tanto a si que precisam tentar mudar a vida do outro, um outro que, muitas vezes, só quer ser deixado em paz!

"Na conversa da sociedade, três quartos das perguntas feitas e das respostas dadas são para magoar um pouco o interlocutor; é por isso que muita gente tem sede da sociedade: ela confere a todos o sentimento de sua força"
Nietzsche - Humano, demasiadamente humano (citação retirada da Wikipédia)


Os cutopolíticos têm isso dentro de si, faz parte, como a visícula (que conversa você já ouviu sobre a visícula do seu amigo que foi interessante?). Como a Claymore, cujas entranhas foram substituídas por partes de monstros, conferindo-as com um poder absurdo, passando a serem temidas pelos homens que devem proteger e pelos monstros que devem matar. Ou os meio-elfos - odiados pelo progenitor e pela progenitora.


Assim, como na citação inicial, tomei atitudes políticas recentemente que me trazem a esse papel de humano, vomitador de eumismos, mesmisses do novo - me contradisse em uma luta contra a contradição de outros que conseguiram pela primeira vez conquistar esse lugar de contraditórios: aqueles que gritavam por democracia se matam para se manter no poder, ao menos nas mentes dos novos, aqueles que têm peso para servir de marionetes em seus joguinhos. Parabéns, finalmente mostraram um pouco de atitude. Um pouco de dança dos humanos. Daqueles que se colocam em lugar de diferente, de merecedora de prestígio.
(um detalhe: vocês não são! São escoriazinha, mas progridem, Até as taenias andam para frente nos intestinos)

Mas esse texto era sobre minhas contradições.
Não falei sobre isso?
Se ao menos essa for uma bela contradição.

quinta-feira, 17 de março de 2011

Água poética

Porra, mas como chove nessa cidade...todo dia, uma garoinha fina, constante (refrescante, confesso), mas toda vez que vou subir o morro: Chuva!
Mas hoje me lembraram, estamos em Março, e as chuvas estão fechando o verão.
A refrescancia desse lembrete foi músical, a água que cai do céu hoje ressoa em tom de melodia.
A água poética hoje foi bem vinda. Fez o dia ficar mais leve.

(mas acho que se amanhã chover de novo não vá ter arte que melhore as coisas...)