Tuesday, February 14, 2006

Bubble Gum Boy

I am a bubble boy. Isolated from the rest of the world by these tick glass walls. I have no disease whatsoever that forces me to keep apart from my fellow species mates. I do breathe as any one of them. And yet, I feel as if I am different. One of the edges of a Gaussian curve.

The good part of bubble isolation that you can communicate with them, and yet none of theirs filthiness can touch me. No germs or bacteria, smoke or bad breath, and even their less-than-caveman ideas seem to soften through the glass and hit gently into my mind.

And it is a nice feeling to be aside. It seems to me as all the burden of living as vanished. Although I breed and I feel pain, my senses are numb. I am an ethereal body, whose main concern is to nurture myself. Keep me alive to continue observing.

That was how I felt in that night, at the pub. That is how I been feeling for the last weeks. I am the Observer. And they are all inside the bubble.
Qualquer dia e bom para nos lembrar-mos de Pessoa... e encontrei esta traducao...

I Am Tired

I am tired, that is clear,
Because, at certain stage, people have to be tired.
Of what I am tired, I don't know:
It would not serve me at all to know
Since the tiredness stays just the same.
The wound hurts as it hurts
And not in function of the cause that produced it.
Yes, I am tired,
And ever so slightly smiling
At the tiredness being only this -
In the body a wish for sleep,
In the soul a desire for not thinking
And, to crown all, a luminous transparency
Of the retrospective understanding ...
And the one luxury of not now having hopes?
I am intelligent: that's all.
I have seen much and understood much of what I
have seen.
And there is a certain pleasure even in tiredness
this brings us,
That in the end the head does still serve for


'Selected Poems' translated from Fernando Pessoa by J.Griffin.