Tuesday, July 20, 2010

So weird to listen Bill Crosby and Ella Fizgerald in the middle of nowhere as i used to.

by Caio Fernandes
2010.

I was at the side walk geting into the cafe... didn't have any money, I had to wait for someone there inside.
When I heard this suburbian gay teenager at the other side of the street saying:" I am your fan, can you give me your autograph, I've seen everything you've made ... all the soup operas you worked on and movies. When you kissed that actor on the last episode...."
On a chair near the window I kept looking at the scene, the waitresses came and I said was waiting a person and would order later.
At the other side of the street has a theatre and that blonde old fat actress didn't hear one word of the kid, gave the autograph and came to the cafe. On a table next to mine orders a black coffe...
I know nothing about tv actresses and never heard about this one but I knew she is past now , forgoten, I see on her eyes... her shoes... and looking for love.
I like afternoons at down town, the way the orange sun lays on the walls of the grey buildings and evokes a silence that exists in a dimension over the car's engines, voices and machines.
She was there with her legs towards me being such an easy target...
Large flacid tanned breasts... So cheap that i could get anything I wanted.
This is all so sad... a decadent goddess showing herself to a vagabound nobody at the dusty Sao Paulo's down town. And I needing even so much sex, attention, money turning the face and looking to the sick pigeons on the street or the coffee machine as wasn't understand or realising nothing.
Now I put my head down looking to my feet, old jeans pants, and grey coat, incredible old black shoes...
I remembered sitting in my empty dark living room among solitude and cat's hair listening an album of Bill Crosby and Ella Fizgerald singing tradictional Christimas songs, remembering sitting in the woods and being very young, waiting the wind and bird's songs return fron the leafes feeling the presence of a big predator. Calm I looked to my black boots and the grains of brow mud under it. The smells of the trees and the humidity transformed the air in a herbal tea that I could drink the silence of it as a prayer. The durt on my wrist and hands telling me I was lost even knowing very well what part of the forest I was.
I didn't want to be there, I wanted to be somewhere else, I had dreans and nothing around could offer me a door to it, the same in my living room , the same at the cafe.
Weird , too many action and adventure in a life where nothing happened. And that decadent actress staring at me. She had everything and lost it or are losing yet. What could one offer to the other? Only depression as two vampires sucking the partners vacuum. I am not going to wait for anybody anymore, I get up and go to the street. Walking among peole that is leaving their jobs and going to their homes, I try to think about a place to go. I wish I could sit down in front a tv watching commedy and eating popcorn. I feel the smell of warm fresh bread coming fron the bakery and look to the woman's ass walking right in front of me . Red sign for pedestrians , I stop. The side walk looks like an isolated island where i get stoked for my entire life with no directions.
So weird to listen Bill Crosby and Ella Fizgerald Christimas songs in the middle of nowhere as i used to.


.