A mulher da sua vida

She was glad being childish...

Ele: Você é a mulher da minha vida.
Ela: Sua vida brilhante que eu queria ter aproveitado. Paciência. Estava perdida como sempre e continuo, mesmo olhando aquele cenário brilhante que me poderia ser símbolo de um futuro dourado, sua vida que não tive - those happy shinning days - só recebi amostra grátis até hoje e dê adeus - É a minha vez , agora agüenta e nunca desista. Era seu braço em minha queda e então você. Viverei sua vida que me era negada com toda a falta de maturidade que convém. Cumpra sua promessa, meu bem. O sinal abriu, acelera esse carro, estou no carona, personagem secundário, em breve protagonista, espero que não se importe e se o fizer, problema seu, eu mereço. e por que não? Não quero sair do carro, está chovendo, sim, eu gosto de chuva, mas não de me molhar ( Por ele se agrediria em páginas propositalmente esquecidas, os fatos passariam a residir em um lugar inacessível, sua memória tornar-se-ia spleen- como a fumaça do teu cigarro, meu bem. Devotar-se apenas , era o possível, tornar-se um ser digno de piedade e anestesiar-se após dirigir-se lentamente a lugar algum. Sem razão. E mais uma vez perder o ar).


Pausa para o café.

Contos Bonaerenses - Da autoria

Ambos negavam, ou tentavam por forças atávicas não admitir, chegando mesmo a não acreditar ( estavam um nível acima, era fato). Jamais entremeariam seus supostamente disfarçados traços autobiográficos em clichês. Lembrava perfeitamente da próprio letra sobre o papel, os manuscritos que perdera certamente estiveram na pasta de couro, meu bem, não adianta reivindicar a autoria de contos pessimistas-romênticos-melancólicos-passados-em-dias-chuvosos. Mas mal encostara a cabeça no travesseiro e vira perfeitamente aquelas palavras em letra de imprensa numa tela , uma página virtual, ainda assim, de certa forma, um diário (malefícios (?) de modernidade). D´Ele. E antes de poder haver qualquer tentativa de plágio, por qualquer uma das partes, portanto, sem acusações, por favor.
A única certeza era de que, naquele momento, quem estava, num café quase-europeu, era Ela, com cigarro na mão e taça de vinho à frente. Em carne-e-osso ( e ar blasé).

Retrospectiva, parte 3 - The freshness and the fury

Este é o meu trabalho final de Literatura Americana, que consistia em escrever um conto inspirado em um dos autores estudados. Tive a pretensão de escolher Fitzgerald, e, obviamente, a historinha, que é mais fraca, até por ser escrita em outra língua, não segue o estilo do autor. As referências , todavia, são facilmente identificáveis... Se no texto as personagens ainda estão no colégio, hoje, elas certamente estudam comunicação. Na PUC.
Perdoem os erros de inglês.


The following text is a short story inspired by the Lost Generation, specially F. Scott Fitzgerald. Although the action occurs nowadays, the thematic of a generation lost in futility is still very present.

“The freshness and the fury”

They were still there, and still talked and still danced and still had their carefully-undone make-up on. It´s near four o´clock , M. said, it´s not so late. As Lys responds, Ok, but I can´t get home this hour again, you know I live with my parents and how they are, it´s the third time this week and I have to go to school tomorrow… M., Ok, let´s go… And these two girls with short haircuts and colorfull t-shirts and all-stars spend another half-hour by saying good-byes and hugging and kissing all their numerous too-close friends and get a cab.
M. and Lys, best friends forever, although sometimes they think it´s cool to pretend they´re lovers. The girls met at school as they liked to wear that same clothes of some brand-new-modern kind Mtv video. Then ,they found out it was also cool to find the songs of those videos cool. And , eventually, to act like the people in the videos also seemed cool – just as everything they did. In the back seat of that cab, they looked absolutely wasted– they really weren´t worried about the classes and exams next morning, as they would sleep during these uncool part of their routines. It is never late to remember that M. already had the bright idea to fail the last term, so this repetition of subjects wouldn´t mass up her important affairs. So bright, so young… La vie en rose, or better , in electric fluorescent pink and black, just to remind them of their mid-blue state of mind. Once at home, they both, although distant a few blocks, did the same: just took off their shoes and pants and went to sleep.
The next day, the girls pretended they had woke up – actually, right when they sat in class they slept again. The remains of their make-up screamed in the loudest voice they had being partying, just as the smell of cigarette and perfume in their hair. And they thought they were so great and had nice dreams. Break time. Time for meeting their too-close friends. There´s a party at Lee´s tonight , you only have to take beverages and what else you want, B. said, it starts at ten. I´ll be there for sure, M. answered, let´s go, Lys! Sure… And spent the rest of the morning discussing who should go and who shoudn´t, and the exams… well they did it badly, but that´s ok.
Back home, after lunch. The phone rings at Lys´ . Hi, girl how are you doing? Ok… So, at Lee´s, I can read your mind… You know what´s going to happen… ( M. laughs ) As always… Yep, and you? You know you can be with anyone you want to… Yep girl, so can you, we both can be with the guy we want to be, we are young , we´ve got the freshness, they love it… Yeah, but , I don´t know… Yes, you know… I´m going to your house now, ok? Are your parents there?... Nope… So I´m taking something… Great, come soon… Ok, bye… Bye.
M. is at Lys´. They talk and put some music , and they have so many expectations, although they try not to show it. It´s their most common routine, afterall. They drank and smoked, so they would get there in their best mood. Later, they started getting dressed. Can you lend me that t-shirt?... Sure… You´re so fat!... No, I´m not! Look at your belly !... What are you going to do there? And Lys acted, Come on and kiss me, dear… And they played and laugh like children. They were cool, so cool and they were ready to go. And they got a bus and arrived there.
They entered the party as they were from some famous indie band. They felt like that. Once there, they were saying hellos and hugging and kissing their numerous too-close friends , dancing and drinking and speaking in a loud voice, they loved all that people and they loved each other, they were so close and so beautiful, and over all this, they were so cool, and so different because of their short hair, and t-shirts and all-stars and , you know , their lifestyle? All that people at that party were wearing t-shirts and all-stars, and the music was of those bands nobody knows. They had the same red eyes and had a cigarette scent, and a rough and soft skin, they were young. They were fresh, and faked a kind of angst, against everything. Against nothing, and they drank, and smoked and smelled, they were furious.
And they had the freshness and the fury and there was a party going on and everything was spinning around them. And the two girls stopped . M., who are you choosing for tonight?... I don´t know … There are only the same options , as always… Your option is coming… I´m going there with the guys so I can choose… So Lee came and started talking to Lys , and as always again, she went to some darker place with him. And M. would be soon kissing her too-close friends, as she wasn´t able to choose, even the gays or almost this. She was so cool… They played and laugh like children, and chose some room, just like Lee and Lys.
The hours passed so fast and now they ran so slowly , they music was slower, their movements , their lives, was the alcohol that did that? Maybe part of it. M. found Lys and Lee in the hallway. She kissed both . They were on their way to the room. The two friends just looked at each other. Was everything white? But the bright lights were off. They followed their opposite ways to different rooms. Suddenly the music, so slow, still loud, stopped. Someone yelled: B. has fainted and there´s blood on her mouth…Some people went to where the girl was. Just the remains of music were still in their ears. Fortunately they were sad. For sure.