Dancing on the kitchen tiles

terça-feira, 27 de janeiro de 2009


Tecia comentários a todo o momento, era insuportável, se queres saber a minha opinião. Sabia tudo, disso tinha certeza, acreditava que sabia todos os segredos do mundo. Sentava-se a mesa e se postava a falar coisas sem sentido, acrescentando vocábulos rebuscados para parecer mais intelectual. Tão intelectual, e tão fútil. Fingia-se blasé, mas não conseguia perdurar, sentia necessidade de simpatia, de humanidade. Mas nunca admitiu, nunca! Ser uma comum. Ser medíocre? Nunca! Tanto fazia que nem mais suportava sua própria intelectualidade. E que intelecto falso, por sinal. Sentava-se em cafés à meia-luz, discutindo questões filosóficas ou dissertando a respeito de um certo teórico do qual nunca ouvira falar. Mas falava bem, falava bonito. Acreditavam nela. Obviamente, ninguém a suportava. Mas possuíam certo respeito por sua superioridade e por seu grande conhecimento. Se existe alguém que sabe falar bem de coisas que não sabe, esse alguém é ela. Ela enganou a mim, que me sentia muito menos na presença dela. Teu intelecto fútil, meu intelecto inútil. Inútil eu me sentia, pois sabia muito, mas não sabia enfeitar minhas palavras e não possuía o talento para a dissimulação. Muitos tique-taques depois, eu, que vivia feliz e aceitando a minha normalidade, vivia bem. Encontrei um dia ela em um banco de praça, imunda e fumante. Tragava como se aquele fosse seu alimento. Ela, que no início nem gostava de fumar, fumava pra fazer pose, para se sentir mais cult. Agora parecia uma cadela, esquecida. Fedia muito, e tinha olhos de louca. Às vezes bradava aos passantes, tecia xingamentos, não mais comentários. Citava poesias, com um drama desnecessário, como se não soubesse mais medir o limite entre o teatro e o exagero. Os passantes não lhe davam ouvidos, e eu fiquei me perguntando mil coisas, olhando pra ela com pena. No fim, toda a sua farsa não lhe adiantara de nada. E tudo que ela queria era ser amada, ser apreciada, no fundo era isso. Pensei que preferia ser eu, pouco brilhante, mas apaixonada por tudo que fazia, do que definhar por não poder ser verdadeiramente genial. Ela queria ser como os ídolos drogados de outras gerações, desculpar a genialidade pelo vício. Mas de que servira tanta ostentação e fingimento? De nada, foi inútil. Posso ser fútil, posso ser limitada e contestável. Mas fingir o Saber é inútil. Meu intelecto, fútil talvez, teu intelecto inútil.

diarréia mental.

sexta-feira, 23 de janeiro de 2009

6 (Somewhere near Finchley Road)

Férias, criatividade nula.

Ok, now, why do people have to celebrate birthdays? I don’t like birthdays, I just like my own, you know, when I’m aloud to do whatever I want to do and people give me presents and stuff. I don’t know why they give me presents anyway, cause sometimes I can be so annoying that I don’t understand why I have friends at all.
Alice is not even my friend, she is Tom’s friend or, even better, she is Tom’s ex-girlfriend. I barely know three of the guests and these three people are my brother, my sister and a Tom’s ex-classmate from college. I’m just eating a cold piece of a terrible pizza and everybody around me is pretty talkative and happy. And they speak so loudly that everybody in the place is looking at us. I don’t like to be observed, it’s not my thing… But it seems to me that this weird group that I’m in right now is pretty much the exact opposite of me.
Happy people, always happy, happy all the time! Ugh! I’d give anything to be at home, eating croissants and stuff. My mobile rang just in the right time, and I had to leave to answer it.
- Hi honey, how’ve you been?
Yes, my crazy, depressed and melodramatic brother James, he ran away twelve years ago, because he had a huge fight with Dad. I am the only one he gets in touch with through all this years, and even then, he calls me just one time, every year, from a phone box, and when we found his number on the yellow pages, we tried to call but no one answered. Yes, pretty weird story, my brother is a total weirdo. But I kind of understand him, I mean, I would have probably done the same if I were him.

- Ah, you know, getting through. And you?
- I’m handling it all very well, I mean, today we went to the cemetery…
Okay, now, it’s been three years already!!! He should get over it, for god’s sake!! He still talks about the same stuff. Before his wife had died he called just to say hello and to ask about Tom or me, he doesn’t like Jade either, I think a very small amount of people like Jade, you see, she is totally mental.
- Okay, good. Hang in there, James. And how is the work going?
- You know, sometimes I still can’t believe this, she was such an amazing woman, you know… I miss her so badly, it’s pretty sad…
- Ok, I agree.
He is not capable to talk about anything besides sadness… I’m pretty sure he is depressive. I don’t like him very much, you see… he left when I was fifteen and I we didn’t know each other very well, cause he was always weird and very quiet, but I kind of admire him, after all. And in the end, he decided to hang up. I used to worry about him, but not anymore. Let’s face it, he is a bloke who decided to be miserable, so let him be. I’m miserable too, but I have to admit that his reasons are more, how can I say, meaningful.

terça-feira, 13 de janeiro de 2009

quinto capítulo :B

EU SEI que ninguém lê esses textos e que eles são muito impopulares, mas estou com diarréia mental e não fui capaz de escrever nada novo :F

5 (at home)
Ok, Tanya is not here, that’s good. Now I can eat my croissant and stay in my couch watching Eastenders. Feels good.
Shit! Why do people use telephones? My phone just rings in inappropriate times, for example, when I’m in my cozy blanket eating loads of croissant and being a normal lazy human being.
- Wake up, you sucker! Don’t tell me you’re eating croissants and watching TV!
My beloved brother Tom
- How do you know I’m eating croissants?
- Mom called me two minutes ago, to tell you came to visit and to complain about my inability to be a good son and visit them. About that, thanks so much, sista!
- I’m really a wonderful daughter, you should take me as an example.
- No thanks, it’s already too much living in the same city and having to see them on Christmas and New Year’s Eve. I don’t like to be a good son.
- It’s cause you’ve never been one.
- Ouch! Ok, I called you to remember Alice’s birthday, it’s tomorrow, I know you forgot it ‘cause you have the worst memory in the world. And as I can’t be a good son, at least I’m a terrific brother!
- Haha. What time is it?
- Eight thirty. Be there. And good Eastenders for you!
- How do you know??
My brother is awesome, he’s one of the few people I like. Sometimes he can be a pain in the arse, but whatever, I’m one too and I like myself, at least when I don’t do horrible things and feel like a monster.
Ah, it’s raining now, I love the rain. I know, lots of people don’t like it. I don’t like the rain when it’s too much, you know, raining all the time, but I love to sleep hearing the sound of the rain, I love to watch TV when it rains! I could easily stay like this forever. I’ve decided, right now, that I’m not going to get out of this couch, ever! I will die in this couch, I will never get up. This is my life’s resolution!

Why?? I hate telephones! Why do I have one, anyway? Oh, yes… it’s Tanya’s fault! I hate telephones! And the phone is so far from the couch, bye bye life’s resolution!
- Yes?
- Robin, hey, here is Jade. Where are you?
- At home, of course. – You see, I was forced to betray my resolutions, I wasn’t happy at all.
- Ok, easy, easy. Don’t be cross!
- What do you want?
- Ok, I need some clothes…
- From me?
- Yes, of course, you silly!
- But you’re loads smaller than me!
- Oh, dear… that’s not a problem! See, I need it for a friend!
- What?
- Yes, you know my friend Kate, do you? Well, she is nine months pregnant and she needs a dress for a party, and I immediately remembered you!
Oh, great! My super fitted younger sister who thinks she has the right to destroy my self-esteem. I’m normal size, more for love, but still, this is cruel, you know. She always does that, that horrible bitch!
- Listen, Jade… I don’t think my clot…
- Oh, oh! Don’t even bother to answer, I’m on your street now, I’m coming… see you in a bit!
Kathy puts so much make up on that when you come closer to her you can feel the smell of make up. Always with clingy outfits and all happy and smiling. She enters my room and starts to mess up my closet. Ok, I have to admit, my closet is a mess by itself, but my sister ruining all the few organization that’s left is not going to help very much.
Ok, now she is leaving with two dresses in her arm and complaining about my flat and how much she could help me if I let her redecorate it. I hate my sister, I really do. Fortunately, I finally managed to kick her out of my apartment before I had no choice unless to kill her. And now I deserve to sleep cause there’s nothing better after a long, long day, which include death, my weird parents, and a pleasant visit from my adorable sister.