this living wreck will come again

A praça central da cidade era um refúgio visível à correria e ao sufoco dos estreitos e cheios calçadões do bairro, e trabalhadores cansados dividiam espaço com turistas carregando câmeras e idosos jogando baralho ou dominó. Gabriel sentou-se em um dos bancos, esperando pelo horário de suas aulas de francês com insuportáveis alunos de escolas particulares com absolutamente nada à se preocupar, apenas com qual viagem iriam fazer nas férias seguintes, ou qual ração seus cachorros deveriam comer. Gabriel, após mexer desajeitadamente em seu ondulado cabelo castanho, tirou um cigarro e, antes de acender, foi interromido de seus devaneios por um homem, com uma aparência de desequilíbrio mental e com uma bíblia na mão, tentando entregar-lhe um panfleto. Para evitar qualquer prolongamento daquela interrupção, prontamente pegou o papel – que aclamava as vitórias do poder da fé cristã e todo aquele velho discurso que se arrasta desde remotos tempos em diferentes embalagens sociais para que os humanos insistem em chamar de fé, e que no fundo é só a tentativa de sentir que sua vida é permeada por algum sentido ou base que faz dela de tremendo valor. Para Gabriel, era absurdo pensar nisso – a vida por si só, estar aqui, vivendo, rodeado por infinitas possibilidades, aquilo já era o sentido. Querer mais, em sua realista visão, era inerente aos ignorantes, aos pobres de conhecimento. Viver sem qualquer tipo de amarra, independente. Gabriel levava essa filosofia – por si só constituindo uma profunda crença e um traço visível e forte de sua identidade – por meios extremados e isso transparecia em sua falta de paciência com relacionamentos, no medo que nutria em sua vida social. Tinha aversão das pessoas, que crescera durante os ultimos meses de forma assustadora, mas bastante sociável. Mas seu medo também direcionava-se para a solidão – e, mesmo sendo solitário por concepção, estava cansado daquilo ser quase uma regra. De criar justificativas falsas para não se envolver com ninguém. Sentia-se em um pesado purgatório mental, sentia culpa e sentia que nunca tinha tido nada verdadeiro com ninguém - e recorria ao extremismo para justificar isso que não era inteiramente verdade.

Citação: Mudhoney - Living Wreck

desconstrução do rótulo

‘I don’t follow these fucking labels, for anything’ Maurice said, in a strong decided voice. ‘I don’t like men or women… I like people. I don’t care if it has a penis or a vagina, I just like it what I like. I like a person that happens to be a boy, ok, whatever. I fuck someone that happens to be a woman, the same thing you know. And I strongly believe that human nature is like this, if everyone allowed themselves to explore their own sexuality – and human sexuality is richer than Bill Gates – I’m sure we’d have a lot more of boys to explore ourselves’ he said, letting go a laughter, while Gabriel gave a smile in agreement. It made perfect sense. ‘But humans are so fucking stuck to these damn labels you know, actually, society makes us swallow their fucking pre-established concepts about everything and most of us follow society blindly. This system is so fucking stupid you know. There’s no democracy, there’s no freedom. Everything is based in some ridiculous laws who are nothing but distorted morals, and no exceptions for our country, because sadly it’s a worldwide secular thing. Pre concepts are natural of the human being, but not like this you know’ Maurice said, getting excited with the interested face Gabriel had in that moment. Maurice was a brilliant dude and loved sociology, philosophy and history – no wonder why he smoked so much weed – and Gabriel, despite being immature and a little messed up intellectually, loved to hear Maurice speaking. ‘I mean, what is so wrong with homosexuality? You like your same gender, so what? Is that an offence to a humanized God that nobody knows that even exists? Shit dude, it’s so stupid, and people are that alienated to buy this idea. And from a Presbyterian old lady to a bottom gay smoker – no pun intended – we are all really alienated. It’s sad and kind of difficult to think about it, because it just gets deeper and deeper and more worrying, but I do believe is true. You take your conclusions’ he said, giving a sympathetic smile to Gabriel. Maurice found Gabriel an extremely charming young boy but do restrained some stuff due to Gabriel’s fame of the industrial process that his boyfriends-of-the-week got through. It was almost like if Gabriel followed Henry Ford in his mass-production theory, but in this case was perfectly adapted to the relationships. The both of them were on a massive hungover of last night, and wine was a great way to cure hangovers.

In the end, and looking a bit around, you could say that everything Maurice said made perfect sense. And it actually did.

onde as ruas não tem nome

He could feel the freckles of sand running through the hateful wind that was blowing in that summer afternoon. He could feel his heart beating while his head was urging him to remember that absurd night. Yes, he could feel it all. But, at the same time, the rush of thoughts was making him be obligated to stop those sensations.
She interrupted the deep breath he was taking after some thoughts on what he had just made the night before, and would whisper in his ears: ‘I still love you’.
In the opposite way of the mistaken promises lots of teenagers made every day about loving another person and wanting to be forever with that particular one – all product of that shallow ridiculous relationships – their love wasn’t false. They both shared it for a long time and they had gone throughout a rocky road of a tumultuous relationship. But they were still there, waiting to finally be together.
Even though they both wished to be together, at the same time, there was something stopping them from doing so. Something really strong…
That old teenager urge of being free.

Citação: U2 - Where the Streets Have no Name

when music stopped

The sun was setting high when music stopped and everyone felt wasted and corrupted. After a party like this you could have the biggest amount of fun you ever had, but there’s no way that you won’t feel heavy inside. There’s something about it that just makes you – or eventually will – feel bad about yourself. The rave was made in a Wednesday night and there was still class in the day after – nothing that really was a barrier to those teenagers. Some of them stayed in the little beach facing the lazy blue bay and some of them went to someone’s house to take a shower and rest. It had been a rough occupied night - but most of them were still too stoned to understand what happened.