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An Ordinary Diary

DAY 6

Today I noticed that I got fired after only four days of work. Of course that being fired is something easily noticeable, but four days isn't even a week. I believe that some manic could possibly be fired in the very first day, but if there is a list of records called "fastest fired people" i would be in the top 100.

Getting fired, in English, carries the word "fire" and it seems like you became a useless and annoying shitty stuff, a rubbish that someone burns to avoid contact forever. I believe, if it was possible, my boss would prefer to be literal. He would think about me, gasoline and matches.

As usual, my boss was a devil. He has no respect to the employees and he likes to shout like an old German. I think for some people, when they have a badge written 'Boss', something unconscious triggers an authoritarian sense which liberates the dictator who lives inside their bellies. The pleasure to command pointing their finger of an iron hand at mistakes, subjugating other people to feel that their rules rulez.

The thing is: now I am a rock. I am being one. If i review my past i would say i used to be a sheep: the dream of bosses and priests. I used to bend down my head, to swallow other's guilt and I used to have a "yes, sir" ready to go out of my throat.

I'm not like that anymore so I defy him from the very first day. Adult life is like being member of a club where mothers are not allowed. You got to defend yourself, speak for yourself, you got have the guts to face intolerable people, you will have to stand against too much injustice, make hard decisions and in the end of the day you will be fired.

My mother also tells me that I am not an easy person to deal with. She says I have a bad temper. She also says I am perfect. Some mothers like to turn their sons in paradoxical beings. I am the most precious human walking on earth with all the worst characteristics ever.

“If you keep on being this way you will become a rolling stone. “, she said. Maybe, mom. For now I am glad to say I am a happy unemployed rock.

DAY 5

Today I notice this awful old man on my path.

I know that common sense would point out that I shouldn't say bad things about a handicap. But I think he is a sadistic that uses his condition as an excuse to provoke angry feelings on others. It is his pleasure. His jouissance.

He is sepia. He is black and white. He is as old as fuck like an immortal beast. I know I shouldn't say bad things about the elderly but like all other old fucks, this guy moves as slow as a slug. And let's be clear: old people have nothing to do. Their schedule involves important things like drinking lemonade, complain about everything or slowly reproduce gymnastic movements from TV screens. Except hospitals, they have no serious appointments in the real world like we have.

"Why don´t you just overtake him?", you may say.  Don´t you know this guy? He is also fat!  He is large, heavy, he takes the horizon! A perfect circle! Even though a circle is a shape I got to say that this guy is totally out of shape. His width blocks the pavements, elevator doors, hallways, toilets, life projects... I shouldn't say bad thing about fat people but let's face it: it is a matter of space. Do we have enough space in this world? No! I want my space on the long road of life! Give me my space back! Get out of my space, I have a commitment!

I shouldn't say that being fat and old means that you are a handicap. And i am not doing it. By handicap i am talking about his legs! Man, we can clearly notice that this guy has one leg bigger than the other. And of course this disability makes him intolerable. Imagine how fast he is able to make his small leg goes on front to drag the other one. It is the cherry on the cake. A cake that this guy offers to you the same way a terrifying children's party clown would do. A pie to the face.

Certainly he is a bad guy. But his condition makes him untouchable. So we have to find excuses to give to others. "My car tyre exploded...", "The bus crashed...", "My uncle died..." I actually killed my poor uncle 3 times this month. All because of this fella who suffocates us all the time.

DAY 4

Today i noticed this strange man that lives in my mirror.

I gotta say that even though sometimes he smiles back, most of the time he has this sinister look. He is a kind of a judge. A bad cop. He searches around my corners. He searches for surface mistakes. He has no mercy.

He tries to makes me loose my mind and break the mirror. Fortunately, decades has given me strenght to endure and face him.

Sometimes i feel so strong. I laugh out loud. But he always tries to mock me, repeating with precise details every single movement i do. I realize that he has no personality. I tell him this and he tells me back. So he tries to make me believe that we are the same. That we are both unbearable. I don't agree.

The diference between us is that i am not a murderer.

Ask him about where is the 11 years old happy kid that used to live in the mirror. Or the 18 years old youngster full of hope about his future. I can remember at least 8 diferent people that are missing for a long time since this man "came to town".

In my opinion he is a dangerous man. I don´t know why he wants to scare me this much.

I think he is a contracted serial killer who works for a boss called Time.

DAY 3

Today i noticed that i am breathing.

I am doing this job since 1978. I never skipped one day. I should be glad with my commitment.

However, I don't have to schedule it, i don't have to prepare myself, i don't need to take care of anything. All of a sudden, my lungs are filled with air and without my authorization my body expels it back to mankind.

Scientists say that the air has Argon, which is an element that is in the atmosphere since the beginning of time. So we are sharing argon, and we breathe the same chemicals that the greatest and the lowest people of all time have been breathing.

You and me and Chaplin and Hitler.

Unmercifully and democratically, the air makes our gears work. For good and for bad...

...and because we are good and bad...

...and because we are one.

And one with one terrible question: How many breaths are left for me to do?

DAY 2

Today i noticed that the night, a very dark night filled with stars, was an ode to the past and death.

Beautifully shining in my eyes, the brightness of the stars exploding in supernovas, thousands and thousands of years before i was born, sailing the cosmic sea to bring me a kind of a divine message.

The finitude of everything can be bright. Can stay forever in the collective mind, written in one of the infinite curves of spacetime of history. Or, at least, it can stay in the hearts of the ones that remember you, if you deserve it.

Today i noticed that i feel for the ones that already passed away and the ones i will miss at some time...

...and i thought about you, still alive, but dead in my life.

DAY 1

Today i noticed that a cat and a cockroach entered my house. I prefer cats then i killed the cockroach. What i didn't notice was that the cat jumped inside my toilet bowl. I sat there and the cat scratched my butt. I thought it was hemorrhoids. Accidentally i took a shit on the cat's face. Then i flushed the toilet and the cat went on a spiral before going to the sewer. Desperately i called 911, but it didn't work because i live in Brazil.

Then i noticed that i felt totally miserable and lonely. I tried to resurrect the cockroach. It worked and i realized that i am the Messiah. The cockroach told me that its name was Gregor Samsa, which was a homonymous of a beetle.

Greg wore a top hat and got a stick. I am not a fancy guy so I got a Panama hat and a samurai sword. We both started to tap dance. Accidentally, while i was doing a very difficult dance movement, I stabbed the sword through my belly. Greg kept on dancing over my bloody body. I am almost sure I will resurrect in 3 days.

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