Die Nacht der Reitenden Leichen

May 11, 2012

Ortszeit

In the beginning of the 90’s, german photographer Stefan Koppelkamm travelled all around then ex-East Germany, right after the fall of the wall, and he shot the buildings he found. Ten years after that, he went back to the same places and shot everything again, framed as close as possible to the original shots. The pictures speak for themselves.

The result, as I see, is a disturbing reminder of how everything can change in ten years. Yet more disturbing to me is the fact that last year I went to Uruguay and Argentina, countries that once had a rising and prosperous economy, but then were struck by crisis. After seeing Stefan’s work, I looked back at my travel pictures, and I now can’t help but wonder how it all would look like if I went there ten years ago, and what will it be like if I return there ten years from now.

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February 9, 2012

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November 23, 2011

Fuzzy

*clack* *brzzzzzzzzzz…*

Peace of mind.

*clack* *brzzzzz… *

How much did I miss it in the last months? A lot.

*clack* *brzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz…*

Being able to think is crucial for one’s ability to be able to actually do something. And not being able to listen to your own thoughts is probably the worst torture a human being could be a victim of. No wonder Guantanamo Bay prisoners were forced to listen to Metallica. That St. Anger album. The one that sucks so much I wonder if someone could commit suicide just by holding their own breath just by listening to it.

Well, not necessarily recent Metallica work, but anything that is noisy enough.

*clack* *brzzzzzzzzzzz…*

Sleeping well is probably the best medicine ever invented. Chewing valerian root, doing exercise, it just doesn’t plain work. Losing all hope in hope of finding freedom is just a corollary. You could make a machine slave out of someone just by wiring their brains with worries. Anything to worry about, as stupid as it seems.

*clack* *brzzzzzzz…*

People. You meet them every single day. Some real special people are the ones that fill your life with joy and you wish you could stay by their side forever. Some are the friends who are at the nearest beer tap talking to you while taking a sip. Some you have a nice talk with everytime you meet. Some you don’t really like but you have a nice talk anyway. Some are just plain idiots that you can’t stand for too long. And some specific people make you go postal just when you hear them say anything.

But, hey, that’s the society where we live in.

*clack* *brzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz…*

A place to live. From there, you have places to go. And places to visit. And places you plan on visiting. And places you wish you could go. And places you don’t want to get even close.

Places that can get you to places. Places that make it hard for you to reach other places.

Peaceful places. Places hard to live by.

*clack* *brzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz…*

You get to one point in your life where you ask what you really want.

And, you realize you can’t always get what you want.

But you can get what you need.

*clack* *brzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz…*

Right now, all I would say I really need is for this refrigerator to stop these *clacks*. But since it’s keeping my beer cold, and it’s the only thing to distract me from the sound of the waves hitting the shore, I can get used to it.

Whenever you can visualize your situation, and

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September 13, 2011

Before dawn

As the sun moves along the landscape, it shows details. It makes you change perspective.

Sometimes the view right before it reaches a place for good can make you think.

Like when you just woke up and have the opportunity to see the beginning of a new day.

Or when you didn’t sleep at all and you remember you still have one more beer in the fridge.

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September 10, 2011

Dusk

I have never been aware of the moral boost the sun can give to us, earth-dwelling primates with gadgets. However, the last weeks here in Florianópolis have been of rain, so much rain the sky was always gray with clouds and the air was thick and humid (a lot more than usual) all the time, with the freezing wind cutting your face with droplets of water.

So, yesterday the sun appeared on the sky after a long time, and I had to register the end of the shift.

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(Notes: 1)

August 1, 2011

Forever alone in Governador Celso Ramos

So it’s Valentine’s Day, or, actually, June 12, when we celebrate it in Brazil. Since it was a warm, sunny day, I couldn’t stay home anymore, and I had a camera I hadn’t put to any serious use before and a motorcycle that was just ready for a spin after months in a soap opera tucked away in a dark gloomy place, and I’m single, I went to this city just forty kilometers away from Florianópolis.

Governador Celso Ramos is small, but beautiful. The weather helped show the tropical paradise it was, tough there was no one actually sunbathing on any of the beaches. All in all, the only complaints I got are the fact that I kissed the ground on a sharp corner, but the only thing hurt was my pride (and a rear-view mirror), and the fact that I couldn’t make good use of the harsh contrast for really good pictures. Also, my polarizer filters cast a vignette when I shot wide-angle at 14mm, so I cut everything to 1:~2.5 aspect.

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July 27, 2011

“Si, Solo.”

“¿A donde vienes?”
“Brazil.”
” ¡¿Solo?!”

(A man at a gas station in Sarandi Grande, Uruguay)

Opinions were divided : some told me it was the opportunity of a lifetime, while others dismissed what they said was a crazy suicidal idea. Going alone to Uruguay by motorcycle in the winter is not something to be taken lightly, especially if there is the risk of getting stranded in a road in the middle of nowhere, involved in an accident of any kind or getting sick. But I was confident and decided to move forward, not only because I went on vacations for this, but I also couldn’t stand the idiocy of some people near me anymore. Also, I had never took on an adventure like this, and I didn’t want to die without any good stories to tell.

I met a lot of people even before setting out into the unknown. I made friends, took advice, learned a lot, got resources : things that would prove to be useful on my journey.

Problems arose, but I came through them. After a not so bright first day when I didn’t realize I was low on oil because of the rain and cold in the road, things started to look better, even with me staying put from July 4 to July 7 in a border town without anything to do that wasn’t await in anxiety for the motorcycle to get ready to hit the road again.

Uruguay is a beautiful country. Everywhere I went I was met with the kind smile of its people, and their hospitality with this man from afar that could barely talk to them. Through beautiful cities well-maintained over time and beautiful landscapes I fell in love with it.

I also had a three-day stay in Buenos Aires, Argentina, where I went by ferry. Too bad three days isn’t even enough to know everything that beautiful city has to offer.

In the end, I stayed three days in Torres, Brazil, to rest after the 3400 kilometers I travelled.

All in all, these were the best vacations I ever had in my life. I turned off my cellphone the moment I took off, and turned it on twenty-two days after, when I was back home. I felt good about myself, about overcoming challenges, about discovering more and more around me, and about realizing even the closest places hold more surprises than you could expect.

People I have to thank for are the friend who first told me the basics on how to ride a motorcycle without getting yourself killed, the friend who sold me his bike, my mechanics, the friends I made when buying my travel insurance who by coincidence are also bikers, the friend who wrote a book about his three trips to Uruguay, the people at the Honda dealer who fixed my motorcycle in record timing, and to virtually all people I’ve met for their kindness towards this stranger who was coming out of nowhere with nothing but an old motorcycle, a big idea and his luggage.

July 2

Florianópolis, 11972.9
- Alfredo Wagner : 107.2Km 5.106L R$13.02
- Lages : 121.7Km 6.28L R$17.54
- Vacaria : 107.3Km 6.7L R$19.50
- Lagoa Vermelha : 81.9Km 4.22L R$15.00
- Passo Fundo : 98.8Km 4.64L R$13.45
What a day, what a day. When leaving Florianópolis I saw the same fucked up truck from the day before. On my way to Lages I put some real bad fuel and the motorcycle didn’t move with all the power it used to. Also, my hands almost froze on the way from Lagoa Vermelha to Passo Fundo because the rain soaked my gloves.

July 3 Passo Fundo, 12488.3
- Saldanha Marinho (?) : 100.9Km 5.9L R$16.00
- Cruz Alta : 102.2Km 7.4L $20.00
- Santa Maria : 95Km 5.95L R$16.60
- Rosário do Sul : 127.1Km 7.92L R$20.99
- Santana do Livramento : 110Km (?) R$25.00

4 litres of oil! When I woke up at Passo Fundo I was really worried about the weird noises Assassina I was making, and I realized it was because it was running low on oil. After fighting against the cold, and ending my depression when seeing a sunny day outside, I found out the motor was really fucked.
After running around, I could get the oil changed (the 200ml that were in it) in Passo Fundo, and I hit the road checking the oil on every stop, and seeing it go lower and lower.
The road was granting a beautiful landscape, especially in Santa Maria, with the bridge over Menino Deus Valley.
After a long road I arrived in Santana do Livramento, where I was warned the bike was smoking. Great.
One journey to find an hotel and I fixed myself a place. Now, tomorrow, I’m going to find out how fucked I am.

July 4 The day satarts with our hero taking his motorcycle to the shop and getting some bad news from the mechanic. Then he goes have breakfast, finds a really useful map of the surroundings, and goes back to the hotel to get some sleep. After waking up, he finds out his lens bag went clusterfuck while on the road, and that his Fujian 35mm f/1.7 is history (at least it was cheap …), also, his attempt to fix it only make it worse.
Then, on the shop again, where the motor is not as FUBAR as he thought. He goes on an buy some “parallel” parts, since Honda doesn’t have them since 2008 (it’s a really old model).
Two of the items were sold wrong, so the next day he’ll have to exchange them (best case). Now, let him have a Polar beer, since it’s a sin coming to Rio Grande do Sul and not drinking one.

July 5 I wake up, had breakfast, and ran and ran and ran after parts. Luckily I found all I needed. However, the mechanic that was working on my motorcycle was assigned to the “express service”, and couldn’t touch it. So I went to the uruguayan customs office to check-in to the country. After the lady terrified me because of my ID card that I left in Florianópolis, my passaport lost its virginity (finally!).

July 6 I did, like, nothing. After breakfast, I went to Rivera to get some shots (photographically speaking). I also tried to buy whisky, but, fuck, damn free shops won’t accept a credit card without the ID.
Wait, are the people here, at the hot dog cart where I’m writing this, talking about Paula Fernandes?

July 7 Santana do Livramento, 13042.4
- Tacuarembo : 112.9Km 5.9L UY$200

I’ve been waiting for too long. So long that I spent the entire morning (and afternoon too) watching the mechanics work. All in all, minimal detais. It was almost 17:00 when it was ready to hit the road. I exchanged cash, and left under a darkening sky and advice from the man at the gas station. In Tacuarembo, I found nice, friendly people who showed me all (the three) hotels in the city. However, only one of them (and what a deceiving place) had a room, but at least it had a (crowded) parking lot. I went for a “gourmet” chivito, two Patricias, and I’m ready to call it a night.
By the way, what a pretty motogirl the bar has. July 8

Tacuarembo, 13161.0
- Paso de Los Toros : 151.4Km, 9.7L UY$ 325.9 I went for a shooting stroll in Tacuarembo, and took off into the road. Ruta 5 was crowded with men at work, so there was a lot of caution needed, then I stopped at Paso de Los Toros, and I believe that in less than two hours I saw almost everything in the city (I couldn’t find the beach).
Durazno is the kind of city I fell in love with the moment I set foot here. I went all navigator to find an hotel, but I believe I was seeing things when I saw a “Panaderia Sorocabana”. I got a guided tour of “Casa de Rivera”, and with it came a valuable class on uruguayan history.
I walked all downtown Durazno on a quest to find a bar, but I couldn’t. The girl at the hotel told me of a nice one, where I had a nice chivito. Also, the place was fun.
There is also a girl that will sure as fuck haunt me : she had the looks of a backpacker, the equipment of a backpacker, even the backpack of a backpacker. I followed her, but one sharp corner and she was gone.
“I’m just a damn stalker,
I don’t have what it takes,
I keep making myself bitter,
The bitter taste of my mistakes.”
(Yeah, I was so shocked by the experience I started writing a blues song)

July 9 Durazno, (I didn’t remember to write down the mileage)

- Sarandi Grande : 126Km 7.57L UY$254
- Canelones : 109Km 5.95L UY$200.29
- Ecilda Paullier : 86.2Km 5.961L UY$200.29 First thing in the morning : to the “Correo Uruguayo” send a postcard. Then off to Durazno Zoo, and what a zoo, I stood less than a meter from a tiger (with the fence between us, of course), and I shot a lot, I mean a lot. What a beautiful place, also, with lots and lots of animals, only some of them (like the bear and the lone monkey) looked real sad.
Almost noon, I took off with an exact destiny, and I ended up on Florida. The nice girl from the tourist information gave me a map and suggested some restaurants, only I didn’t eat anything. Quick tour and shooting spree, and off to the road again.
I didn’t stop much, asides getting lost in Canelones, and in Ecilda Paullier a man was really impressed by Assassina I. When I finally arrived in Colonia del Sacramento, I came across a hotel booking service and got a room for two days. I found a place without Patricia, but with Pilsen (which isn’t bad!). Now, tmorrow, I’ll walk around Colonia, and the day after, Buenos Aires US$0.25 a day!

July 10 The day ends with me on a dark, cold street corner drinking a pilsen on a plastic cup and seeing a creepy cat lurking in the darkness. Cool.
It all started when I went for my morning stroll, and I stopped by the port and bought my ticket to Buenos Aires. Sincerely, I don’t know exactly what I can do there with all the (lack of) money I got, but, still, I am looking for adventure, ain’t I?
I had lunch at a fun place where I had my jazz fix. Also, I discovered this beautiful beer Zillertal, which is pretty much the best in Uruguay.
After lunch I slept (or, had a “siesta”, as they say around here), and, man, I got addicted to this little shut-eye too. I also shaved my beard, to lose that hoimeless look.
In “Acuario de Colonia” I explored the ISO 6400 and the f/2.8 on my Pentacon and got pretty acceptable results. Still, I need an 85mm (maybe an 50mm) f/1.4, for this kind of situation.
I also bought a souvenir I was asked for, and I hope I can get this fragile thing to Brazil intact.
I had dinner at the same place as yesterday, and I found out a “milanesa” (deep fried meat) is usually chicken, not beef, and that that a “chorizo” is not necessarily rare meat, that would be a “bife de chorizo”, plain chorizo is a god damn sausage.
I read the “El Pais” newspaper, and here I am writing this and seeing if work in Uruguay pays well.

From July 11 to July 14
(my stay in Argentina) I woke up and I got an agreement with the lady on the hotel : I would leave my motorcycle in the garage until I came back. Things were looking good, because I also filled a reservation for when I come back. At the migrations in the port, ta-da, I was fined when “entering” Argentina. The reason was I didn’t get a Mercosul tourist card when leaving Brazil and entering Uruguay in Rivera, so, UY$700 less for poor, poor me.
The crossing went well, except I didn’t expect the fact that I couldn’t get to the ship deck.
Arriving in Argentina, I was wondering how fucked I was for not having booked an hotel in advance. Then, I went to the ferry sales office to buy my ticket back and what was my surprise when I picked up a magazine and saw they also offered a variety of other services, including hotel booking. Right then and there I bought with my credit card the ticket back, three days at an hotel (the cheapest available, of course, but still kind of expensive at US$72 a night) and a city tour for the next day.
I cabbed to the hotel, and saw that not only the taxi driver was friendly, it is really cheap in there, with AR$14 from Puerto Madero to the hotel. This hotel wasn’t bad, even with the bathroom paint peeling off at the ceiling, and the bathtub missing the cap, but it was too small for me, anyway.
I went for a stroll downtown, and in Puerto Madero, and what a beautiful city Buenos Aires is : book sellers and candy stores in every corner (if I didn’t diabetes eating all the “alfajores” in there then I got pretty close to it). I met an uruguayan couple who asked me to take their picture, altough I was too dazzled to engage in a conversation. Also, “Copa America” was all the rage, so the city was more than alive.

Motorcycle:
- Honda Sahara NX 350 (339 cmÂ³ displacement)

Photography:
- Olympus Pen E-PL2
- Olympus Zuiko 14-42mm f/3.5-5.6 (kit lens), m4/3
- Pentacon 29mm f/2.8, M42 mount, with an adapter
- Sigma 70-300mm f/4-5.6, Canon EOS mount, with an adapter
- Fujian 35mm f/1.7, C mount, with an adapter, broken on the road
- Wanderlust Pinwide
- Three batteries

Tools and mechanical supplies:
- Adjustable wrench
- Pliers
- Extra spark plug
- Instant tire repair
- Butane torch
- Standard toolkit from Honda
- Two litres of motor oil Clothing:
- Cordura jacket
- Nylon raincoat
- Two pairs of pants
- Six pairs of socks
- Six pairs of underwear
- Three black t-shirts
- One motocross jersey
- Waterproof leather boots
- Two glasses, one with “transitions” and one with “night drive”

Items:
- Cellphone
- GPS navigator
- Compass
- Flashlight
- A pack of trash bags
- A Rescue Tool by Victorinox
- My trusty swiss army knife
- An assortment of pens
- A logbook
- Spanish conversation guide
- Personal hygiene kit

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May 13, 2011

So I got a new toy …

… and I wanted to play around with it.

And, yes, I need to shoot more.

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March 26, 2011

Então a Stefhany está de clipe novo …

Ela conquistou* o Brasil tempos atrás com seu Crossfox. Tornou-se* absoluta. E agora volta com uma produção para sacudir* tudo: Menino Sexy!

* sarcasmo

Esse era o tipo da coisa que estava dando o que falar em minha timeline, mas eu não tinha coragem de ver, depois de ter todo apetite para produções musicais duvidosas deturpados por uma certa menina que se acha a última bolacha do pote das sextas à noite. Depois de ler uma resenha bem crítica sobre o clipe, criei coragem e apertei play.

Tosqueira? Pode apostar que sim. Vergonha alheia? Só se for por causa da época do Crossfox, em que a tosqueira era algo inimaginável te dando um tapa na cara e virando sua cabeça para a realidade cruel de coisas que você não conseguiria imaginar por conta própria.

Muita gente tem intenções nobres, esbanja no investimento, mas acaba criando algo medíocre. Não é o que acontece no clipe da Stefhany.

Que foi? Não concorda nem um pouco? Então assista o clipe deste gringo aqui:

Michael Swaim, do Cracked, disse tudo com “Isso é como assistir trechos aleatórios de O Senhor dos Anéis com o Legolas de vez em quando fazendo de conta que está tocando guitarra.”. E o da Stefhany, pelo menos, tem as gatinhas seminuas posando de heroínas.

Não quero aqui dizer que ela deve ser aclamada pela realização profissional dela. Isso é tarefa para algum crítico musical com estômago. O que eu quero concluir é a idéia que hoje em dia estamos cada dia mais próximos de cumprir a profecia de Andy Warhol, “No futuro, todos serão famosos por quinze minutos.”.

Também não vou me dar ao mérito de falar o que é a revolução da comunicação que estamos vivendo, onde tudo deixa de ser centralizado, e qualquer um pode colocar o que quiser online.

Só vou concluir isto aqui dizendo que, tosqueira por tosqueira …

É amigos, viva la revolución.

(eu até que tentei pensar em alguma forma de dizer tudo isso em um tweet, mas como ia ficar muito #mimimi falar, cá está você lendo este post se não deu TL;DR há muitas linhas atrás)

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March 10, 2011

Shoot from the hip(ster)

So, some time ago a coworker gave me an Olympus Pen EES-2, awesome little camera which I loaded film once, it didn’t work, I loaded it again, and left it there for almost an year. Only this week I got around to develop all I shot.

Pretty random garbage, but still, I love it.

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March 8, 2011

Challenges

So, it’s Carnival in Brazil. I, like so many others, hate this time of year, so much as to put myself through a challenge: Run away from all the mess the big city will be.

In essence, I looked at Google Maps for somewhere to go. And I chose this 5000-inhabitants city in Santa Catarina, 70Km away from Florianópolis. People coming straight from a lineage of german families who settled themselves in the middle of nowhere, and endure the day-to-day living of a rural town, was what I thought. And pretty much what I found.

And, man, as Sax Gordon would say : That little town rocks.

On my way there through SC-407, a road paved with stones (probably from the beginning of the previous century), I stopped at São Pedro de Alcântara to snap some shots of its cathedral.

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Things started to get way more fun when SC-407 turned from a road paved with ‘stones slippery as fuck’ to a road with no pavement at all along a hill so steep if you fell down you’d be so fucked up you wouldn’t be able to come up again in one piece. Challenge number two is : Fuck yeah motocross.

Out of the blue I see Angelina downhill, and I keep descending and cautiously braking when WHAM, my front wheel gets stuck in a slit in the road, and I kiss the ground. The only thing hurt is my pride, and my motorcycle right rearview mirror, which I was able to buy another one later that day.

Arriving in the city I go to the gas station (pay attention to the ‘the’, not an ‘a’ or ‘one of the’), and I stay right there talking with everyone drinking their afternoon beer.

Challenge #3 is to find an hotel. The place actually had three of them: the one right in the city square was closed (!), the second one was full because of all the people who went to spend the carnival there (!), and the third one, Blumengartenhaus, where I stayed, was a hotel within a convent. But not that kind of convent that immediately comes to mind with nuns in black walking down the halls, we’re talking about sisters in faith maintaining an establishment. And the place was awesome too, hearty meals, german architecture, nature … only thing is there is a church with a mass twice a day. With the musicians playing something close to jazz (full instrumental) in the meantime.

Oh, and I went to the ground again arriving at the hotel. While I was stopped, I slipped in a wet spot and I wasn’t able to hold all the weight of the motorcycle.

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The next day, the level of the challenges went up.

First, my primary lens (a Canon 28-90mm IS f/4) was not getting the f-number right, so every picture I took was with a wrong exposure. The only lens I had left was a Sigma 70-300mm f/5.6, but, since this isn’t the kind of occasion you want to go telephoto, I had to find a fix for this. So after some hacking …

… I fixed myself with the ghetto solution : an SLR pinhole. It was an experiment I had already tried but failed miserably, however, since it was my only chance …

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… and the results weren’t that bad. Actually, according to the lady who processed my negatives, it was actually good.

The master challenge was : I somehow managed to fuck up (probably when I fell down for the second time) my gear pedal. I found myself stuck in second gear. With at least 50Km of motocross ahead of me to go back. One of the mechanics of the town tried to take a look, but soon gave up. It was back to me to come back to Florianópolis in one piece to fix this up. So I took off, stuck in second gear, up and down and in between.

Even a cow started chasing me.

Since I can’t refuse challenges, I managed to arrive home (hey, first bring all the tons of stuff I took with me back) and then cross the bridge again for my mechanic to see it.

Turns out the shaft (which goes inside the engine and sticks out for you to screw the pedal in) was fucked. But nothing a little workaround done with a drill and an extra screw couldn’t fix.

Now let me get back to my beer back in Florianópolis.

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January 17, 2011

Fw: Re: Fw: ENC: Re: Re: Re: Re: RES: Fw: Re: Fw: Fw: …

—
Carlos M. dos Santos, Sir.

Show no mercy, for you shall receive none.

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December 31, 2010

150000000Km a 108000Km/h em volta do sol

2010 foi um ano de novas descobertas, encontrar pessoas novas, superar
desafios.
E qual ano não tem disso?

E o que é o passar dos anos, senão apenas pontos de referência na história,
para nos localizarmos ao olhar para trás? Para fazer mais significativos os
momentos da vida? Ou para tirar o seu significado, e simplesmente enlatá-los
sob quatro dígitos para uma agregação posterior na qual nos baseamos
para tomar nossas próximas decisões?

Still, feliz 2011. Ou, sendo mais específico : tenha realizações positivas
nesta nova volta que você irá dar em torno do sol.

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October 21, 2010

O Robô da FAINCO

O tipo da coisa que se ouve falar pelo pessoal mais velha guarda de Florianópolis e chega no seu e-mail*.

Corria o início da década de 70, e na pacata e sempre ingênua Florianópolis acontecia todos os anos a Feira da Industria e do comércio (Fainco). Em determinada ocasião, a Fainco foi realizada na então inacabada obra da Assembléia Legislativa de SC, no centro da cidade. Uma das atrações era um Robô, parecido com aquele do seriado “Perdidos no Espaço”, coqueluche da época. O tal Robô, dizia o empresário que o trouxera, era totalmente “robótico e inteligente”, ou seja, sem um ser vivo sequer dentro dele…

A manezada ingênua pagava ingresso para ver aquela maravilha tecnológica da época, e como a comunicação naqueles idos era difícil, não foi possível saber que “aquela maravilha” já havia sido um fracasso em outras cidades do Brasil, tendo em vista a desconfiança das pessoas, pois achavam que ali dentro havia um ser humano, ou seja, não enganava ninguém!

Pois bem, a Fainco foi inaugurada com toda pompa, banda de música e muita reverência àquela fantástica atração - o Robô da Fainco.

Após dois dias de filas intermináveis para ver o Robô, e o “empresário” do monstro já com as bufas cheias de dinheiro da manezada, eis que um singelo vigia noturno da Fainco ficou desconfiado, pois havia sido furtada uma bolsa de uma manezinha, bem no local onde o Robô circulava e ficava “desligado” à noite.

O vigia, já desconfiado que o robô era o larápio resolveu ficar de campana naquela noite, só observando o bicho, de longe, afinal, ele teria que descansar um pouco ou sentar-se, se humano fosse. Aí, pensou o esperto vigia, chamo a polícia e dou o flagrante. Não deu outra: lá por uma hora da madrugada o istepô apoiou o pézinho na parede, como todo ser humano faz, e além disso, deu um espirro… Aí foi demais! O nosso Sherlok Holmes fez um escândalo e chamou a “rapa”, que prontamente prendeu o Robô e o seu dono, ou empresário, como queiram. Foram todos madrugada adentro para a 1 ª DP explicar-se para o delegado Elói. Mas ninguém tinha coragem de tentar desmontar o bicho e nem sabiam por onde começar, pois a geringonça era bem bolada mesmo, tipo lacrado. Tenta desmontar daqui, desmontar dali, eis que chega proeminente figura do Governo Do Estado com o objetivo de levar as notícias fresquinhas ao governador, tendo em vista que o escândalo já tomava conta da madrugada. O figurão, meio afeminado que era, chegou perto do robô, olhou, olhou, tocou no bicho, não se conteve e fez a pergunta:

- Robô, tu falas? E o Robô respondeu:

- Falo, mas não falo com veado!!!

* Culpa do @robertofalanga.

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September 27, 2010

Clarissa’s Stuffed Friend

Last week these comics appeared on digg (or was it reddit ?). This was an instant twitter boom (at least on my timeline), even with the comics being from 2001, drawn by Jason Yungbluth. I couldn’t read it at first because the intenet access at my job is too restrictive, but didn’t lose the opportunity to burn my curiosity when I got home. While several people called it depressing, immoral, sick and perverted, I found out this a work of (some kind of too dramatic, but still) art, and spent hours looking up about everything related.

First, about the cartoonist : Jason Yungbluth is no newbie, born in 1971, his works appears on several periodicals (MAD Magazine and DC Comics included), and maintains his website. He also is predicted to live 131 years.

Have you read the comics yet? The gallery is down there. Consider this a spoiler alert.

Clarissa is a kid with an traumatic existence : she is sexually abused by her father. In Jason’s other works it becomes evident the nature of the family, too : typical unforgiving rigid american dream lair. Just as Chuck Palahniuk would write, “the baby they brought home years ago” just can’t be so messed up with herself. The father can’t be such a pervert to abuse his own child. So the family cloud their own reality, not to deal with a growing problem by believing it, just by being agnostic to the ticking time bomb under the table and hoping it blows on someone else’s face.

Yet it happens. The comic is a slap in the face. Only, it is so rich in detail about the messages it passes, you may be too astonished by the story not to pay close attention. This is what makes the comic so special to me:

Clarissa’s indifference : you can’t say how sad is she, given that she is so pissed off about everything her cranky expression just won’t let any feelings show that easily. The fact that in the entire comic she doesn’t say a word adds up to this, you can only count on her facial expressions, which are basically close to nothing, and don’t show half a sign of happiness. The feeling you can see in her eyes is when her father comes by is neither fright nor hate, but just disgust.
Her mother’s ‘pulled up’ face : She is hiding something. By trying to create an illusion of control of the situation, her hopes for Clarissa to just go through it become somehow clear, only it is also evident that she was never through anything like that. Also, I’m pretty sure whatever her drink was, it wasn’t anything close to a ‘soft’ drink.
Her contact with new friends : As someone permanently damaged, she not only have miles of personal space around her, but to go through it takes lots of effort and time to build up trust to get into her social circle. Yet once inside, when someone learns about the dark secret motivating all the anti-social behavior, they just feel the need to drift away, or stay to a lifetime of pity. In her case, everyone left, dead, on a pit. Dead to her because they just couldn’t keep up. Either keeping the secret for themselves, or keeping themselves from looking past it into a friendship.

Contrary to Calvin (from Calvin & Hobbes), the kid who didn’t have his parents present enough in his life so he turned into an hyperactive, imaginative fellow, creating his own realities and being the master of his own world, Clarissa is presented to life in one of the most cruel, degenerate, degrading ways possible. It is not her struggle to live a life that is the most shocking, but the way everyone treats her for being ‘just a kid’, even knowing about her ‘dark secret’.

Yes, Clarissa, welcome to life. It sure can get worse, but that’s why you keep a loaded shotgun under your pillow.