Things are getting better!
Things are getting better around here.Even as so many weird, seemingly malevolant “outside forces” appear to be gathering around us in the form of insane, abusive religious fanatic relatives and phsycotic, bottom-feeding parasitic stalkers, bubbling right up from the stinking depths of Hell itself to harass and persecute and crucify us daily for our art, our love, our chosen lifestyle, for all our “godless, evil, immoral ways”…Even with all that depressing ugly, soul-stifling evil shit going on lately, on some other deeper level, personally, as this unlikely couple, we’ve oddly been getting better somehow, Narcisa and I…Growing closer and closer every day.I don’t know just how that happened. And I don’t know if it’s a blessing, or a curse really…But we’ve paid our admission and we’re on the big fucking ride now, once and for all…
And all along this hair-raising, teeth-rattling, unpredictable spookhouse roller coaster ride, things are rattling and clattering, moving and grooving and changing… morphing and shape-shifting all around us now.As usual…Violent, turbulant winds of change… as if to somehow perfectly reflect the ever-changing, totality of the surreal landscape of our very existance itself…It’s hard to even believe it, but it’s been well over a week now since we’ve even fought or tried to completely destroy each other…Thats huge! Memorable! A cause for celebration and joyful rejoicing!Even our traditional Sunday night knock-down-drag-out was somehow quietly averted this week, simply passed over and forgotten like some unimportant missed date…And suddenly, shit, it’s Tuesday afternoon again already, after a long lights-out crash day… and now we’re waking up, almost like a normal little couple, to coffee and crackers and cigarettes…Waking right back up to our nasty old cosmic whorehouse tricks.Fuck fuck fuck, smoke smoke smoke, go go go…No fights. No discussions. No crazed screeching, nose bleeding death threats or arguements or rabid vendettas or violent rebuttals…Not a fucking peep…That’s historic in itself.Damned if things aren’t getting better between me and Narcisa.And that’s a start.I find myself hoping once again. A start. Hope. A prelude to Narcisa getting better at last, to her wanting to get better, finally wanting to live again…Why not? After all, Narcisa and I are nothing more, in esoteric terms, than two sides of the same fucking coin… A unit. A team. An agreement…I asked her this morning if she wasn’t a little worried that our little habitual rituals and routines were starting to become a bit… How did I put it? Predictable…Predictable?She just looked at me.”You know, baby,” I said sheepishly. “Fuck fuck fuck, smoke smoke smoke… Sleep sleep sleep, eat eat eat… Defecate… How about us turning the page, before some ignorant, ranting moralistic morons with their fucking bibles and guns come along and turn it for us?”"No, Cigano! We DO turn the page!” She said with such a firm conviction, I just sat there quietly and nodded her on.”No only fuck fuck fuck, smoke smoke smoke now… Also think think think,” she said, “talk talk talk, write write write, art art art… Creatividade, Cigano, what you say ’bout that, Hein?”Holy shit. She’s right! We’ve been doing all that and more together lately, in our own dysfunctional little way….And she’s been cranking out the poetry like a fucking maniac, too. Good poetry. Solid poetry. Some of the best, most honest, soulful poetry I’ve ever seen. Heard. Lived…Things are really getting better…Better.Amazing.It would appear that those dark-minded, stinking evangelical assholes and dickless do-gooders and shit-gobbling, low-rent stalkers who’d like to drive us apart out of envy and sour grapes for our perceived offenses and transgressions of their bullshit hypocritical self-imposed morality codes are really only serving to strengthen and unite us more and more, super-charging our crazed and obsessivly passionate kinship with a new and powerful spirit of allience and an iron-clad solidarity.Ha ha ha!Today she awoke from her latest peaceful 24-hour crash, getting her troubled little head ready for the latest mission to start again.She sat there on the sofa, happily watching tv while I picked away at my Blackberry, furiously composing the latest blog entries.She squealed in delight like a happy child watching the latest adventures of Paris Hilton and Nicole Richie.Totally surreal.”Cigano! Put it on our blog page that Narcisa’s favorite TV personalities are Paris Hilton and Nicole… Do you know them, Cigano? Put it in the blog, an’ say that Narcisa love them an’ she wanna meet them…”I told her I didn’t know them, but that my main girl in Hollywood, Alessandra probably did. Alessandra knows EVERYBODY!Narcisa’s eyes lit up at the news as, dutifully, like some kind of sleepy whorehouse Santa Claus taking an order, I wrote it all down.”Narcisa’s favorite TV stars are…”Then I stopped and asked her for some more names.She just gave me a blank look and went back to watching the Paris and Nicole show.No more?”That’s it, Cigano. Only these ones…”"That’s not a very long list for a questionaire, baby,” I said.Questionaire?She glanced at me blankly again, before turning her full attention back to the blaring nonsense chatter of the TV box.I guess its a step up from staring at herself bug-eyed in the mirror for hours and hours….I asked her why she liked those bimbos so much, hoping to maybe fill out the list a bit, make it more interesting, whatever…”You can put it that Narcisa like them because they are very slutty… they are tall an’ skinny… an’… extravagante! Very extravagante an’ controversial an’ FREE… An’ I am… How do you say? I am in LOVE with them too because they are completely retard!”I started to write it all down. Suddenly she grabbed my arm, as if I might be about to unpin a grenade or something.”No, Cigano! Is better you don’ to put it that I say they retard, because maybe then they no gonna LIKE Narcisa an’ they never gonna call…”I told her it was alright to say they we’re retarded, because they are.I explained that for people like that, “retarded” was probably like a term of endearment or something.She made a thoughtful face and was silent for a moment as her bright, bottomless hazel eyes scanned the TV screen greedily.Then she looked back at me and said, “I like them the most because they REALLY retard… like you can fuck them in the ass an’ then they just gonna look on you like… ‘Wha’ the fuck just happen, man?’ You know?”What the fuck just happened, indeed.Yeh, baby, things are getting better.Copyright Jonathan Shaw 2008. All Rights Reserved.NOTIFIÇAO: Os eventos relatados neste site são contos de ficção - registrados na Biblioteca Nacional como ficção com todos os direitos autorais revertidos ao autor, Jonathan Shaw. Os personagens mencionados são interamente ficticios. Certos eventos, personagens, lugares e relatos foram baseados em fatos reais, porém qualquer semelhança a qualquer pessoa viva ou morta se trata de pura coincidência.As vários fotografias apresentadas se encontram com o rosto distorcido para preservar o anonimato das modelos que representam personagens fictícios.
