Matheus Rocha Pitta days 1 and 2
Finally landed in New York Wonderland. Free falling from Berlin, 10-hour flight, stopover Iceland. Diving into a golden cloud to reach the island, getting out of the plane under strong winds. Feeding my vice in a smoking area that looks like a cage. Taking another plane. Greenland at the window. White on white on white – impossible to tell what’s cloud, what’s ice, what’s sea. Terrible but calming, like the pizza I order for lunch.
Smooth arrival in the apartment, keys waiting for me. It’s a huge, or better, a cluster of huge towers. Two elevators, corridors and the door opens, a spacious apartment full of mirrors. Wish I was into self-portraiture, I wonder. Alice thru the selfie-stick. After a shower, I eat and sleep.
The first morning I go down, even more dazzled by the mirrors and glasses. Got a coffee, go out for a walk. Sounds, sights from everywhere. Even the ground beneath my feet trembles with the underground train. Overexcitement, green lights, cross it. Alea jacta est, fortune is released, no more return, I’m finally landed.
Even if it’s 7:30 AM, new yorkers are already walking and talking loud on the phone. Not only freedom of speech but loudness of speech. I hear something terrifying. “This man is burying himself alive with every step he takes. And as I long as I am alive I will watch it with pleasure”, yells a lady on her cell. I’m petrified. Is every step taken towards freedom pouring dirt on a grave? Is the rabbit’s hole Alice’s tomb? If so what would be the epitaph?
Alea jacta est . That’s the first appearance of a new character in this journal, Leah. It is chance in pure state, as it incarnates in the new-yorkers-yelling-in-the-mobile in the streets NY, counselling me on the search for freedom, aka, the rabbit. I’m not sure if she’s on my side but I’m looking forward for the next meeting.
…
It’s 10 AM and Abbie knocks at my door. She came to show me the tower’s facilities. We salute each other with solar smiles. Unlike Leah, she’s real and has a warm and calm voice. We meet again for lunch at Apex Art, where a show opens that evening. Everybody looks super human, the office is messy as it should be. I feel a little bit of jealousy for that environment. We talk about many things at lunch. The art world, class, nepotism, marginality, vulnerability. A very welcoming atmosphere of agreement, like being home.
Than I head to my first therapy session. My last psychoanalysis session was four months ago in Rio, I miss it. Again, a very warm reception. Nancy explains me the rules of the game. She reminds me that everything I say there is strictly confidential – something I’ve forgotten or never brought to the foreground. Should be a reciprocal confidentiality, I agree. A curfew among friends.
Second day starts with a boat trip around Manhattan. It’s cold, cloudy and rainy. Before heading to the pier, I try to walk around but it’s irritating. Don’t think Leah will appear with this weather – I definitely wouldn’t.
“It’s a super full moon, so the tide is slightly higher”, explains the guide tour. “So it’s risky to circle the island so we’ll turn back at a certain point, breaking the circle”. I’m sleepy and it is super warm in the ferry. Not so many tourists came. The guide is always joking but nobody laughs. I resist being awake, but his sad jokes slowly become a mass of indistinct lullabies. The last thing I remember is seeing the statue of liberty. In my nap I dream with redemptive freedom. The statue of Christ the Redeemer flees from Rio, fearing iconoclasm under the new regime. In a rainy night he releases himself from the pedestal and jumps into a cloud. Brazilians are so busy in their cultural wars that nobody notices it. The cloud brings Christ to NYC and he falls in love the statue of Liberty. He approaches her in and quite old style way. “Hey lady, can I use your lighter please?” The statue of Liberty blushes. “Yes, of course”, handling the torch to Christ. He lights a joint, offering her a drag. “you’re also free to say no”, says the Redeemer.
I woke up in a better mood and appreciate the landscape in the window. It’s hard to ignore the guide’s voice, but I’m still fascinated. He thanks everybody to come in such an ugly day. I finally feel some sympathy for him.
Next activity is to come to the New York Public Library to write these words. I immediately love the place. After climbing the marble stairs I’m faced with an exhibition of 50 years of Stonewall. Empty Closets! Come out! I read in the posters on the black and white photos. I feel proud, wondering which is the best drag name, Alice or Leah?
