DOMINGO. ] velocidades e repetição [

Domingo. Silencio e a música de Sassetti. Ascent. Miranda July. Uma citação estúpida: Quão maravilhosas são as pessoas que não conhecemos bem. E uma pergunta: Are You The Favorite Person of Anybody ? E o sentimento. Na 6ª feira ouvi uma pessoa improvável falar de velocidade, de aceleração. Chorei tudo o que pude, aproveitei, pois tinha aqui pranto adiado que por descuido guardara. Anteontem, no meio dos meus pensamentos e dores entaramelados quis sentir-me só na solidão toda. Ninguém morre sozinho, repetia. Sou feita de repetições. Entrei em acelerada evocação de referências. Ninguém morre sozinho. Recado. Me you and everyone we know. Burnout. Ninguém morre sozinho. Respeitosa repetição. Karma police. Fitter Happier. No alarms & no surprises. All that numbs you. E a palavra Anywhen. Arrepio na tarde. Mercy seat. Monsters ball. …a darkness. Hurt. You can have it all. Só mais uma para o caminho. Sou velha, disse. Sou uma velha que se agarrou a meia dúzia de referências. Uma velha cansada a repetir alimentos, acelerada. Desacelerei num instante.
Isto tem relação directa com o amor e a capacidade de amar rodeando as condições e condicionantes com que nos deparamos ao amar e nos deixarmos amar.
Desenvolvi uma capacidade admirável de variação de velocidades em tempos recorde. Consigo recuperar com rapidez. É trabalho de mérito próprio mas realizado ao lado daqueles que são na realidade os autores de todas as obras que acima repeti: aqueles com quem partilho formas de amor.





refªs no texto: Ninguém morre sozinho; Are You The Favorite Person of Anybody?;Recado;Me and You and Everyone We Know; Respeitosa Repetição;Radiohead - Karma Police - fitter happier -  No Surprises;Thomas Feiner & Anywhen - All That Numbs You;Arrepio na Tarde;Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds - Mercy Seat;Monster's Ball; Bonnie 'Prince' Billy - I See a Darkness;Johnny Cash - Hurt;Yo La Tengo - You can have it all; Só mais uma para o caminho.

H0

Das hipóteses formuladas surgiu o erro. Surge sempre um erro tardio na ciência. Todos sabemos disto. Percorri cada item com um cuidado que ultrapassou a reflexão. Agora continuo na frente daquilo em que creio hoje. Tenho as pastas cheias de nomes que transformei em números. Penso nos clichés que o homem disse ontem à tarde e sublinho a pertinência da minha irritação. Quem disse que arte e ciência são sentenças distintas? (nota: a pergunta formulada previamente é, ela própria, um cliché)



Percorro as tabelas e rio louca. Sou muda, a irritação esvai-se rapidamente.
Dentro de cada célula existe espaço suficiente para os erros do Homem. A chalaça está no engano dos números. Gente crescida deveria saber isto na ponta da língua.
Acaso amanhã receba o convite para a discussão do estado da arte denunciarei a minha ausência. O meu Outono é mais importante.



Hoje revezo a minha arte com a minha ausência. Uma ausência em confiança.
É nisto que creio hoje. Firme, sinto o primeiro frio e perpasso memórias como me convêm. Afinal, sinto tudo. É assim mais importante dizer adeus enquanto ainda há tempo. Deixando para trás as persuasões.
Podeis verificar, como acima demonstrado, que é fácil engendrar textos que nos tragam de volta o início da manhã. Também escrevo. Posso fazer mistura de todas as imagens que sonho e dizer adeus. E voltar a cada desejo.

numbness & walls

I hurt myself today, to see if I still feel, I focus on the pain, the only thing that’s real, The needle tears a hole, the old familiar sting, try to kill it all away, but I remember everything. What have I become, my sweetest friend, everyone I know, goes away in the end, and you could have it all, my empire of dirt, I will let you down, I will make you hurt, I wear this crown of thorns, upon my liars chair, full of broken thoughts, I cannot repair, beneath the stains of time, the feelings disappear, you are someone else, I am still right here. What have I become, my sweetest friend, everyone I know, goes away in the end, and you could have it all, my empire of dirt, I will let you down, I will make you hurt, if I could start again, a million miles away, I will keep myself, I would find a way.



It began when they come took me from my home and put me in dead row, Of which I am nearly wholly innocent, you know. And I'll say it again I… am... not… afraid… to… die. I began to warm and chill To objects and their fields, A ragged cup, a twisted mop The face of Jesus in my soup Those sinister dinner meals The meal trolleys wicked wheels hooked bone rising from my food All things either good or ungood. And the mercy seat is waiting And I think my head is burning And in a way I’m yearning To be done with all this measuring of truth. An eye for an eye tooth for a toot hand anyway I told the truth And I’m not afraid to die. Interpret signs and catalogue blackened tooth, a scarlet fog. The walls are bad. black. bottom kind. They are sick breath at my hind They are sick breath at my hind They are sick breath at my hind They are sick breath gathering at my Hindi hear stories from the chamber How Christ was born into a manger And like some ragged stranger Died upon the cross And might I say it seems so fitting in its way He was a carpenter by trader at least that’s what I’m told Like my good hand I Tattooed e.v.i.l. across its brothers fist That filthy five! they did nothing to challenge or resist. In heaven his throne is made of gold The ark of his testament is stowed a throne from which I’m told All history does unfold. Down here it’s made of wood and wire And my body is on fire And God is never far away. Into the mercy seat I climb My head is shaved, my head is wired And like a moth that tries To enter the bright eye I go shuffling out of life Just to hide in death awhile And anyway I never lied. My kill-hand is called e.v.i.l. Wears a wedding band that’s g.o.o.d.`tis a long-suffering shackle Collaring all that rebel blood. And the mercy seat is waiting And I think my head is burning And in a way I’m yearning To be done with all this measuring of truth. An eye for an eye And a tooth for a toot hand anyway I told the truth And I’m not afraid to die. And the mercy seat is burning And I think my head is glowing And in a way I’m hoping To be done with all this weighing up of truth. An eye for an eye And a tooth for a tooth And I've got nothing left to lose And I’m not afraid to die. And the mercy seat is glowing And I think my head is smoking And in a way I’m hoping To be done with all this looks of disbelief. An eye for an eye And a tooth for a tooth And anyway there was no proof Nor a motive why. And the mercy seat is smoking And I think my head is melting And in a way I’m helping To be done with all this twisted of the truth. A lie for a lie And a truth for a truth And I’ve got nothing left to lose And I’m not afraid to die. And the mercy seat is melting. And I think my blood is boiling And in a way I’m spoiling All the fun with all this truth and consequence. An eye for an eye And a truth for a truth And anyway I told the truth And I’m not afraid to die. And the mercy seat is waiting And I think my head is burning And in a way I’m yearning To be done with all this measuring of proof. A life for a life And a truth for a truth And anyway there was no proof But I’m not afraid to tell a lie. And the mercy seat is waiting And I think my head is burning And in a way I’m yearning To be done with all this measuring of truth. An eye for an eye And a truth for a truth And anyway I told the truth But I’m afraid I told a lie.




More productive comfortable not drinking too much regular exercise at the gym (3 days a week) getting on better with your associate employee contemporaries at ease eating well (no more microwave dinners and saturated fats) a patient better driver a safer car (baby smiling in back seat) sleeping well (no bad dreams) no paranoia careful to all animals (never washing spiders down the plughole) keep in contact with old friends (enjoy a drink now and then) will frequently check credit at (moral) bank (hole in wall) favours for favours fond but not in love charity standing orders on Sundays ring road supermarket (no killing moths or putting boiling water on the ants) car wash (also on Sundays) no longer afraid of the dark or midday shadows nothing so ridiculously teenage and desperate nothing so childish at a better pace slower and more calculated no chance of escape now self-employed concerned (but powerless) an empowered and informed member of society (pragmatism not idealism) will not cry in public less chance of illness tires that grip in the wet (shot of baby strapped in back seat) a good memory still cries at a good film still kisses with saliva no longer empty and frantic like a cat tied to a stick that's driven into frozen winter shit (the ability to laugh at weakness) calm fitter, healthier and more productive a pig in a cage on antibiotics.




Hello. Is there anybody in there? Just nod if you can hear me. Is there anyone home? Come on, now. I hear you’re feeling down. Well I can ease your pain; Get you on your feet again. Relax. I need some information first. Just the basic facts: Can you show me where it hurts? There is no pain, you are receding. A distant ships smoke on the horizon. You are only coming through in waves. Your lips move but I can't hear what you’re sayin. When I was a child I had a fever. My hands felt just like two balloons. Now I got that feeling once again. I can’t explain, you would not understand. This is not how I am. I have become comfortably numb. Ok. Just a little pinprick. There’ll be no more - aaahhh! But you may feel a little sick. Can you stand up? I do believe its working. Good. That'll keep you going for the show. Come on its time to go. There is no pain, you are receding. A distant ships smoke on the horizon. You are only coming through in waves. Your lips move but I can’t hear what you’re sayin. When I was a child I caught a fleeting glimpse, out of the corner of my eye. I turned to look but it was gone. I cannot put my finger on it now. The child is grown, the dream is gone. I have become comfortably numb.