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quinta-feira, 18 de março de 2010

Cheese salad burger

When I was a little child, a cheese salad burger could solve all my problems, make the world a wonderful place, make any problem go away, stunned by the combined smell of fat meat, cheese and a slice of tomato. If it had lettuce it would not be a part of this, because lettuce has no smell.

I was thinking about the damn cheeseburger because that night I had slept 1 hour and half and the bus that supposed to give me at least two more hours of sleep was not there yet. This is something that happens to me when I have to stay awake after not sleeping, I turn myself into a very fucking hungry creature. Yes, and it’s always these kind of stuff that my body wants, cheese salad burger, French fries, lasagna our any other thing heavy and/or highly fat. I think that once the body realize it’s being destroyed, that no rest is going to happen, he switch on a giant “fuck it all” neon sign and says something like “you know what? Fuck this shit, let’s destroy this body at once dying clogged of fat and smiling sarcastically”. How is it possible to my body to think things without my own participation I don’t know, I’m just speculating I guess… besides, it doesn’t matter now.

So, there was me, dying of tiredness, wishing a stupid cheese salad burger to die fat, waiting for a bus that wasn’t there and there were also some people with me. People who are everyday waiting for the same bus with me. People.

Look, there is no particular reason or something, but I hate people. Don't get me wrong, I hate, but in a very healthily way, you see. I’m not going to kill somebody or something, is just that people are full of… of… “people’s things”. I will give an example: we are all here waiting for this shit bus and we could all stay cool, staring the silence of the street, enjoying our personal problems in our minds, traveling to the land of whatever, but no. No. They are right now arguing about where the best pork’s meat of all time is produced and they want my opinion on this matter, of course. I’m weird, but I’m gently:

- Oh, yeah, I think I agree with you guys, it’s really bad when we eat bad pork’s meat, it should never happen, any food that is bad can ruin or day… it's fucked up.

"it's fucked up". I use a lot “it's fucked up” to conclude ideas. Usually I say that when I’m expecting some reaction from the person I was talking to, or when I expect a reaction from myself to just like shut up my fucking mouth and stop trying to play the role of Mr. Nice fellow, or when I simply stop to listen what I just said and then my conclusion is that I shouldn’t have said anything, because despite my eloquence, a careful observer could see that I’m talking a bunch of pointless shit and I should be just quiet. Like very quiet.

It’s always like that, I say my phrase, then comes the silence of milliseconds where the words are processed and I say “it's fucked up”.

it's fucked up.

No bus yet and since I still didn’t developed the ability to sleep while standing up or the ability to turn off my mind, let’s see where we are, while I’m faking smiling to people about their comments of some TV show and porks meat. On my left side a cafeteria, on my right side any fucking shit, at this time of morning there are only 3 things working: cafeterias, hospitals and whorehouses. Yeah and the whorehouses are about to close. I’m not against this things, I mean everyone does what it takes to live and all that, but it’s funny to notice how relative “business hours” can be, no?

I’m smiling of my own not so funny thought and people look at me with a weird expression because at that exactly time they were just talking about each other’s experiences with foot callus caused by a bad choice of a shoe. I goes like that, people love to do that, everyone, one after the other, talk about their experience on a certain issue, did you ever notice? Well, indeed that wasn’t a subject one should laugh, we should establish that, a uncomfortable shoe is like a nice kick in the balls, so I pretend I wasn’t laughing, I was just stretching my lips in a expression of tiredness, one of the many I’m used to transform into, since I’m always tired.

I look to the sky, I think the rising sun is beautiful and all that, but what about the fucking bus? Nothing yet. I know I shouldn’t, but I look towards the cafeteria and losing control I start imagining they probably serve cheese salad burgers, French fries, maybe even lasagnas, pies, certainly things with cheese. I get back the control of myself and look to the other side. I start thinking about my life.

I think about the idiotic and harsh reality, about the stupid life, about the race inside one of those rat’s wheels, spinning, running, spinning, running, with determination, vividly, but stuck in the same place. I remember why I hate people and how, even with all the filters and barriers we learn to use and we use during all these years, to only permit to get close of us people that seems to be different before our arrogant insecure eyes, inevitably, we make mistakes. We get disappointed, we find lies, uncertainties and problems of the normal life.

Shit happens and hard times are part of the process. The Hero will always save himself to fall into a greater danger.

I remembered that was the reason why was sleeping so little, that was the reason why I was always tired, because I was always thinking so much and seeing and being many different ways and things. Change things, see and live, all in other way. That’s why there is a joke in the end of the meditation. There was a propose, it was just a shit bus, those were just some people with their peculiar issues and subjects being friendly with me for whatever reason, that was just another night without sleep, everything was going to be fine, I knew it, It was just a matter of time. I'm the Hero of my story.

I think I should stop this mind talk and go grab my cheese salad burger. There is enough time, everything will be fine.

I go. I get in the cafeteria. One of those waiters that appear to be dropped from a cartoon asked me with his eyes what I wanted.

- Gimme one cheese salad burger, mate – usually I don’t say things like “mate”, but this time I said

Five minutes later here is my sandwich. Every bite is a memory and a bit more of fat. I’m there eating, remembering, traveling and thinking about that taste and all the times I ate that.

It’s over, I’m satisfied, I burp with a big sound and then I fart ninja style. The guy of the cafeteria congratulates me with his eyes and a smile. The first reason that I assume is that he enjoys people with bad manners, but actually the true reason I find only when I get out of the cafeteria.

I look to the bus stop. There is no one there.

I got it. While I was happily eating my dose of fat, the bus came, the guy of the cafeteria saw and said nothing to me… Son of a bitch.

And then, he comes towards me and says:

- Sorry, you were enjoying so much your hamburger, I just couldn’t stop you.

I stop for a few seconds. I think about the situation, I give him a smile and I decide to go away.

Go away back home.

- I will call my work to say I’m sick or something. I’m going home, I think I need – I wait that milliseconds of processing, believing he was going to say something, but he says nothing, and nothing, and then, while I'm leaving, I say – it's fucked up.