Ficções de si

[what-even-is-thiss]

Witch: Ah, so you've come to me.

Maiden: Yes. I need your help.

Witch: Unwanted baby?

Maiden: No?

Witch: Want someone dead?

Maiden: What? Of course not.

Witch: That's all I know how to do. What do you need?

Maiden: I'm starting to see why you were shunned from the village.

Witch: Yes, I've killed a lot of people. What do you need?

Maiden: There's a pox in the village.

Witch: It wasn't me this time.

Maiden: I know. Can you fix it or not?

Witch: No. I'm not licensed for that.

Maiden: What do you mean you're not licensed for that?

Witch: I got kicked out of the herbalist's coven.

Maiden: For killing people?

Witch: For killing people.

Maiden: Great, now what do I do? There isn't another witch for at least three towns over.

Witch: And he's an enchanter blacksmith type. Makes protective amulets and beefs up swords. Makes really good horseshoes. Can't fix poxes. Makes a mean rabbit stew though. And...

Maiden: And is very good at sex and hard to kill, yes everyone knows that. You tell us repeatedly. Even though we kicked you out.

Witch: It's important. How are you not dead yet, by the way? You're an adult and you haven't bought anything yet so you should be dead by now.

Maiden: I'm not into people that way. Your weird sex based spells don't work on me. That's why I'm the one that came.

Witch: I would branch out but I'm barred from taking more classes at the guild. Because of the murder.

Maiden: Right, well I'm gonna go before you poison me.

Witch: What about the pox?

Maiden: I do have a mild form of it so you've been exposed too. Someone of your age is much more likely to die from it.

Witch: What?

Maiden: I'd suggest you find an accredited friend that hasn't been convicted of unnecessary murder.

[what-even-is-thiss]

Maiden: I have come a long way to find you.

Enchanter: One second. (throws a sword over his shoulder where it crashes into several metal tools and starts glowing)

Enchanter: Okay, what do you need?

Maiden: There's a pox in my town.

Enchanter: (pulls an amulet out of his pocket and holds it over her head)

Enchanter: You don't seem to have it, but it's touched you.

Maiden: I got better. Can you help?

Enchanter: I enchant swords. Why are you visiting me?

Maiden: Because the only witch in our town is...

Enchanter: Wait, don't tell me. Are you from Ravenfalls?

Maiden: Yeah.

Enchanter: Tabatha. Of course. That quack.

Maiden: She only kills people and does abortions.

Enchanter: Oh no she doesn't do abortions. She just drowns babies. I don't even think she knows what a fetus is.

Maiden: Oh.

Enchanter: Yeah. Terrible cook too. Normally herbalists are pretty good at cooking but she's just...

Maiden: The worst. I know. Do you at least know who can help? All of our elders and babies are dropping off like flies. People are strapping chickens to their arms. It's a mess.

Enchanter: (clicks tongue a few times) The nearest guy that specializes in pox is in the mountains. Not the coast range but the big angry looking pointy ones to the east. What were those called again?

Maiden: The Death Mountains?

Enchanter: Yeah, those. Unfortunate name, really. They're almost tolerable in the spring and summer. Don't know why they live there though.

Maiden: Can you teleport me there?

Enchanter: Why do people always ask that? Look I don't know what you've been hearing from Tabatha or traveling merchants but that's not safe for living creatures.

Maiden: Then what do I do? By the time I get back half the population will either be dead or still have birds strapped to their arms.

Enchanter: I hate to suggest this but you could like... with a shapeshifting dragon? And then ask for a wish?

Maiden: I'm not into people or dragons that way.

Enchanter: Then I guess I'll see if I can do something for your horse's shoes but that won't be nearly as fast.

[what-even-is-thiss]

Maiden: I have...

Herbalist: Come a very long way to see me. I know.

Maiden: How did you...

Herbalist: Everyone says that. Come sit. Do you like tea?

Maiden: I don't have time for tea. My village has a pox.

Herbalist: Which pox?

Maiden: It's mostly affecting older people and it's... purple.

Herbalist: Oh. What shade of purple?

Maiden: Very bright.

Herbalist: Oh, that's not a pox. That's a curse. Or a curse mixed with a usually just annoying pox. Someone in your area has probably pissed someone off.

Maiden: I'm from Ravenfalls.

Herbalist: In that case I think we can both guess who brought forth someone's ire. Who created it though, still remains a mystery. In any case, you can buy this bag of weeds and instruct people to boil them in small batches and inhale the steam. It won't cure anything, but it will most likely help people breathe better, which may help them survive long enough to fight it off.

Maiden: What do I do about Tabatha and the people strapping chickens to their arms?

Herbalist: My dear, some things can't be fixed completely. Plant this all over your town though and Tabatha will most likely avoid you. You can have these for free.

Maiden: I'm not going to bring some magic plant into town unless I know what it is.

Herbalist: Oh, it's not very magic. It's a cedar tree I've enchanted to grow very quickly. She's deathly allergic to cedar wood and pollen.

Maiden: Oh.

Herbalist: I really can't do anything for the chickens though. People will do strange things when they're desperate.

Maiden: Will I ever know who cursed us?

Herbalist: You may or may not. Wile you're here though, would you care to buy a love potion?

Maiden: I'm not into people that way.

Herbalist: You wouldn't fit in at the witches guild then. That's why most of us go in. It's a very good profession for swingers.

Maiden: That's why I went into city government. Well, thank you for all that.

Herbalist: And thank you for visiting. Tell the enchanter that I said hi and tell Tabatha to take a hike for me.

Maiden: I will. You have my word on that.

[what-even-is-thiss]

Enchanter: Hello.

Maiden: Enchanter? What are you doing here?

Enchanter: My name is John.

Maiden: It feels weird to call you that. You're the magic blacksmith I met on my quest.

Enchanter: I understand. So do you know who I'd talk to about renting a lot here?

Maiden: For what purpose? Oh, right. Me. Talk to me about it. I manage Lord Raven's lots and do logging and hunting permits and collect rent and whatnot

Enchanter: I want to set up my shop here. Business is better here for weapons and ever since she moved out, well...

Maiden: Was she after you?

Enchanter: She was under the impression that we were still married.

Maiden: Yes, she definitely was. Well, I think I can set you up. The village will benefit from having a reputable witch nearby. I'll get you in contact with a carpenter and scout out a spot for you.

Enchanter: Wait, I have something for you.

Maiden: An amulet?

Enchanter: For keeping away unwanted romantic advances.

Maiden: (covers her mouth and starts crying just a little bit)

Maiden: Sir, I can't...

Enchanter: You drove away a person that made my life a living hell for years. You saved your town. You drove out a murderer. You went into the Death Mountains in the middle of the winter. Take it.

Maiden: (takes it) John, did I ever tell you when we met that I desperately wanted to become friends with you?

Enchanter: No, but once I'm moved in I think we can give it a try.

Maiden: I'll get the paperwork and meet you at the tavern. Dinner's on me.

[what-even-is-thiss]

I'm so happy whenever people know exactly where I was going with something.

[ficcoesdesi]

It's a good day to be A good day for me A good day to see My favorite colors

[ficcoesdesi]

Aprender a morrer

Minha querida, Encontre algo que você ama e deixe isso matar-lhe. Deixe isso drenar de você seu tudo. Deixe isso agarrar-se em suas costas e sobrecarregá-lo em eventual nulidade. Deixe isso matá-lo, e deixe-o devorar seus restos. Para todas as coisas que vão matá-lo, tanto lentamente quanto rapidamente, mas é muito melhor ser morto por um amante.  De seu falso, Charles Bukowski Kinky Friedman

Os mestres dizem: permita que sua consciência descanse no fenômeno. Eu nunca entendi essa instrução. Eles dizem: é possível descansar em meio ao caos, é possível encontrar paz em meio ao caos. 

Eu acho que existem alguns níveis a serem observados para a realização dessa instrução. O primeiro nível, para mim, é o pensamento. É possível pensar que no meio do caos, não há nada a se fazer. É possível pensar que há não há controle. É possível ficar em paz com esses pensamentos.  E ficar em paz com esses pensamentos pacifica todos os outros.

E aí, descemos um degrau. Porque pacificados os pensamentos, emerge o corpo incontestável, denso. E por mais que eu aceite no nível do pensamento que não há controle e há adversidades, que as adversidades têm esse nome porque implicam sofrimento, e que o sofrimento é gigante, e se mostra no corpo, apesar disso tudo, o corpo resiste. A dor se manifesta, o cansaço, o tesão. O corpo é pesado. E ele me arrasta pra onde quer: pra minha cama quando ainda preciso trabalhar, pra cama daquele que me faz sofrer. O corpo não liga para as convenções sociais, ele tem sua própria sabedoria e essa sabedoria é pesada: é da ordem da urgência, da necessidade real. 

É muito difícil reconhecer a vacuidade do corpo. É muito difícil pacificar o corpo em meio ao caos. A resignação do pensamento cede espaço à dor de cabeça, ao sono, à bagunça cognitiva, à preguiça. A compaixão grita: acolhe essa dor, busca alívio, cria uma saída. Os pensamentos deixam claro: a saída é o próprio caos, é continuar, sem esquiva. E eu choro na frente do computador como já chorei na frente da minha mãe. Me abro e me entrego. 

Eu tenho essa impressão de que não se trata apenas de encontrar o que eu amo e deixar que isso me mate. É preciso ir ao avesso disso: encontrar aquilo que me mata e me deixar amar isso. E é impossível fazer isso sem antes aprender a morrer. 

Viver: morrer a cada dia.

[poetry-siir]

Is it necessary to contemplate life between melancholy and sadness?

poetry-siir ©

Es necesario contemplar la vida entre melancolía y tristeza?

poetry-siir ©

[ficcoesdesi]

Orientações para uma vida valiosa

Produzir pequenas relações anárquicas

Ampliar a experiência do thaumazein

Tornar-se uma árvore

Produzir pequenos tilts nas pessoas

Reservar um espaço para o sagrado

Morrer todas as noites

Nascer todos os dias

Aprender a pisar no chão

[ficcoesdesi]

The last letter to you

I am deeply sorry for being who I am. 

I know all I have been through is not that much of suffering. I also know I was not wise enough to see you were just trying not to suffer with me. Nothing hurted  me more  in my entire life than realizing how much all of my attempts to show to you how strong I were just made you insecure. You were the most effeticive master I have ever had: you made my strenght turn into shame. You made me surrender. You made me believe.

So, I am really sorry. I never meant to hurt you.  I just loved you so much. And you know what? I still love you. I am still trying to fix it. I am still trying to develop all the needed abilities to get in touch with someone like you. I still fall in love with someone who reminds me of you - usually they’re just like you: not available to me. 

But there’s something that must be added to this story. And that something is me. Although I was never bullied, or beated, or manipulated, altough I was insecure and inexperienced, although I couldn’t get it, I am still a human being. A humand being who gave you the best. I am really sorry my best was so little. But that was my best. And I know it because I have dedicated all of my lifetime to learn, to develop skills, to care for people who suffer just like you. I am trying to be the lover you deserved, or maybe, the one you needed. And this courage deserves acknowledgement.

The fact  that I have gone through the limits of myself for you means I have actually loved you. As much as it was possible. Beyond the limits of possible, indeed. I was Parvarti herself. I burned the limits of myself with the love I felt for you. And, of course, that has brought me wisdom. To the others. 

It’s the last letter because it’ time to use this wisdom to myself. I‘ve been lovely to you. I have made it to understood the way you turned into yourself. I have done that for me too. But somehow I keep this sense of responsability for you. As if there was a right thing to do about love. I still think there was a mistake. But there was no mistake. I loved you beyond my possibilities. I know love. And precisely because of that, I fear love. There’s nothing wrong about it. It’s not wise to be completely open. Being completely open is the core reason why you suffer that much.  

I deserve the same devotion, compassion, dedication and love I offered to you. I developed wisdom about love. It’s so sad that I have learned so much and you just couldn’t get it. Crazy, I am sorry for being right, for not suffering, for learning. Breaks my heart to see you struggling with pain and sorrow. I wish I could do something about it. But that’s up to you. 

I’m sorry babe, but I have no alternative. I am going to be happy, to enjoy the consequences of what I learned, to express myself to the full.

There’s nothing to forgive. I am actually the most dedicated lover I have ever met. And that’s why I deserve to be loved.

[ficcoesdesi]

Your mouth is a revolver firing bullets in the sky Your love is like a soldier, loyal 'til you die And I've been looking at the stars for a long, long time I've been putting out fires all my life Everybody wants a flame, they don't want to get burned And today is our turn

[ficcoesdesi]

Burned out

The craziest thing about feeling burned out is that this has nothing to do with what we do to the world or to the others. Not, really. 

In order to understantd that, we’re gonna have to explore a feeling that we might not have a propper word to describe.  It’s a feeling The Dictionary of Obscures Sorrows should investigate, actually. It could be easily confused with lazyness. It’s a very particular kind of numbness, but it’s not exactly not feeling something. It’s a kind of torpor that covers other feelings - this is important: it’s a feeling that covers other feelings, which means that we are feeling it all indeed.

Why is that important? Well, our bodies produce feelings, thoughts, movements, actions in general so as to answer to situations in life. In a threatening  circumstance, we produce fear, maybe anger - and that helps us to suceed in that context. The problem starts when these answers of ours are invalidated by our peers: we’re told we shouldn’t be feeling or thinking or acting like we do. That’s when this feeling appears. It’s experienced as a daze, a paralysis in the face of contradictory signs. We’re living the day and suddenly something theatening appears. Immediately we experience fear. Someone tells us: there’s nothing to be fearful about. So we get confused and this subtle daze covers the fear - we really believe we have overcome that fear, but it’s still there, under the daze. 

We learn a very complex way of handling the situation: besides feeling terryfied, we change focus of attention (to what other people tell) and produce another feeling to cover fear up. It’s already the double of mental work. Other than that, the fact that the fear is still there buried makes us insecure, because we’re lying to ourselves. We’re pretending the fear is not there - but we know it’s not true. So, we star to question, we ruminate infinite questions - even more mental work. Are you tired? Cause this is just the mental work - remember, we still got to live, breath, work, talk...

To be burned out is’nt to be doing too many things to the world or to the others. It’s to be doing too much of mental work to cover up who we are, how we feel, what we think - because we’re told we shouldn’t be like that. So, if I shouldn’t be myself,  I gotta make an effort to be something else - a better person? I start feeling more and more dazed and I just can’t connect no more - cause I'm desperately trying not to be myself.

[ficcoesdesi]

The magical happiness of being far from home and close to the water

[ficcoesdesi]

Both pleasure and pain turn into water.

In order to see the magic happening, stand right behind your own eyes.

[ficcoesdesi]

Quem é ateu e viu milagres como eu

Sabe que os deuses sem Deus

Não cessam de brotar, nem cansam de esperar

E o coração que é soberano e que é senhor

Não cabe na escravidão, não cabe no seu não

Não cabe em si de tanto sim

É pura dança e sexo e glória, e paira para além da história

Caetano Veloso

[ficcoesdesi]

Trapped with myself

I was born

I paid atention to the rules

I did my best

I was told I had to live on my own

I was left alone

I grew brave and strong

I built an empire

I was conquired

I faced misery

I honored my pain

I learned to respect life’s mistery

And after it all

Despite of it all

I am still just a threatened, scared little girl

Expecting someone to love me

And making sure no one succeeds doing that

[ficcoesdesi]

Sagrado

Como eu faço pra explicar que eu entendo que o Nietzsche tinha razão sobre a música?

 E que meu analista também tinha razão sobre o canto e a sedução?

E que o mesmo sagrado que eu estou aprendendo a reconhecer na minha voz enquanto eu canto, na energia do axé, na crueza do rap, esse sagrado é o que sobra de mim quando eu me derreto de tanto quicar em cima de você?

[ficcoesdesi]

Não me pergunte quem sou nem me peça para permanecer o mesmo

Michel Foucault

[ficcoesdesi]

Smile

[ficcoesdesi]

Reencarnação

[ficcoesdesi]

Reler é testemunhar a morte de si

Ler é assombroso. Reler é testemunhar a morte de si. É dar-se conta de uma descontinuidade radical da percepção. É descobrir a alteridade debaixo dos olhos. É dar sentido à expressão reencarnação. Reler é uma palavra herege, profana: um profundo desrespeito à desordem natural das coisas. É tantra e dharma: caminho da iluminação. Materialidade vazia que revela o nirvana. Eu sou devota de Carlos Skliar.