Lets see how it goes, Victoria.
Daily life. Lets start it simply, like Shaw would like. After all its nothing more, no matter how heroically you want to face it. I'm walking -- slowly -- for work, in this Big Applelike Lisbon. There is a sweet street, doesn't matter exactly where, even because it could only be in my heart. But I do like that street. Somehow, both the ends mean something in my life. There is a ancient cafe, just after a book shop, and that day I really felt like i needed a break -- even if the day just started. Took a seat outside in the balcony and asked for a cake and a bica -- its a coffee just like any other, just unfiltered -- because after all I was in the only place in the whole city where you could still find a true bica. The swift barmaid hurried in no time with my small bits of pleasure. And there I was, sipping from my coffee, enjoying the bitter taste of what would be the sweetest moment of my day. Looked to the book shop front, searching for company for that night, and that's when i saw it.
Quo Vadis?
Time stood still and i saw both the book and my own reflection in the glass. That was not only a book, but a message. Where was i going? And I felt silly for a moment, awkward, like I had stumbled with a stranger in the subway and we were both trying to agree parsimoniously which side we should pass each other by. What the heck was I doing? People passing behind me, like their motion was unrestrained by the snapshot I was in, black and white, leaving a slightly visible trail of unawareness. Unawareness about their own lives: they hadn't been hit by that book's title, weren't facing that crude question like I was.
Quo Vadis?
Quo the hell was I going? Kissing my cat and spitting the fur every morning, getting up to blame myself for the lack of sexual affection that embed my dreams. Wakening every day to watch the drool in my pillow and regret. Forgetting all that because I was late to work and had no time to think about that -- and no other excuse to run from it. So it is time to vadis once and for all. Its time to let grow that god damned ponytail, and get some perfume in my life.
Vadis!
And so I went. Bought the book, and went to a beautiful garden, in downtown, and started reading, appreciating every second of that unrepeatable sin.
The sun walked the whole sky, and when the church bell marked five o'clock I let the rush time crowd swallow me and headed back to my place. For the first time in many years i felt good in the subway. I know... its stupid, but that's exactly how I felt: stupidly happy. Enough of being a puppet, that day i felt... myself.
The night was cold, as any January night should be. Cuddling inside my leather jacket, I went for a walk, one hand in the pocket, the other holding the precious prophet against my waist. Like always, the park was filled with cute women jogging and walking their dogs, and the mall was crammed. Some movie was about to start, I suppose; I was feeling confident, proud of my own rebellion, and was pretty sure it was clearly visible to whomever looked at me. But noone did. Every living soul was rushing to be stepped on, pushed, insulted, and a million of other repulsive things, just to get a ticket to whatever was happening in the mall. My little burst of self-relevance was being trampled, right there. A man's revolution cant be ignored like that just because of a blockbuster noone is going to remember in 2 weeks... Like a Kamikaze falls in anger over its prey, something was falling inside me, on a crash course with something that ought to be more precious than it just became.
When i got home the book was half read, dinner half made, home half cosy, and... I was still alone with my dog. Destiny is a fucked-up hard-ass bastard.
2 comentários:
I understand exactly what you mean. Especially that part in the coffee shop across from the book store. Thats the "Charlie Moment." From a book called The Perks of Being a Wallflower. Its when you could be doing nothing in particular, but a sudden object or action puts you into a huge prospective on life. You're not just thinking about the last few minutes and puzzling out the rest of the day, You suddenly see your entire life in prospective, all the way back from when you first started to really think and notice things up to the present time; with it, also comes a forward glimpse, almost equal to the past. Its always strange when it happens, but interesting at the same time. I got that.
The interesting part here is something is done about that feeling. Normally I'll just shake my head and get on with my day, but perhaps thats a different Freudian puzzle about how a man thinks he's powerless over his own destiny. Because in this case, the attempt to defy destiny is made, but is eventually fruitless against the onslaught of uncaring ignorant people.
I quite enjoyed it, and thats an understatement when I take into consideration that this was not written in your first language. I don't think I could write anything, not even like a postcard describing my home in another language (unless that language was German) but thats about it.
I have written a little something too. Not really a continuation of what I had been working on, but it just came to mind, so I put it out there.
http://victoriagothic.blogspot.com/2008/09/wind-had-howl-to-it-as-it-swept-through.html
And thanks again for being a regular commenter. Perhaps when my life stops being so hectic, I can return the favor.
@vic: I have to confess, first of all, I didnt read "The Perks of Being a Wallflower", i didnt eben know Stephen Chbosky, i had to look up Wiki...
Well... I have to thank you, i didnt expect half of what you have written, and im quite glad you did! Be sure ill be writting in Eng more often... and dont think of it as a favor. I only read what i consider worth spend my time reading.
Just a curiosity, to finish this comm.: the title for Chbosky's book in Portuguese is... "The advantages of being invisible". I love Pt editions... :S
Enviar um comentário