Samba da Benção
(Vinícius de Moraes)

(...) Senão é como amar uma mulher só linda; e daí?
Uma mulher tem que ter qualquer coisa além da beleza
Qualquer coisa de triste, qualquer coisa que chora
Qualquer coisa que sente saudade
Um molejo de amor machucado,
Uma beleza que vem da tristeza de se saber mulher,
Feita apenas para amar, para sofrer pelo seu amor
E para ser só perdão...

Ontem
Dirijo. A janela aberta. As duas da frente. Adoro o vento frio que bate na noite de verão. Só me importo com a música. Sem notar chego em casa. Arrumo meus CDs. Cada um retorna para sua caixinha de origem. Noto que 15 deles não tem caixa e fico na dúvida sobre qual a história sobre cada uma delas. Alguns são gravados, portanto merecem estar perdidos. Um é presente recente. Outro é da Fer e ficou comigo desde a última viagem para Ubatuba. Penso nela. Quero ligar e saber como foram as coisas no Rio, mas não tenho forças. Preciso terminar de arrumar o cds. Hoje só me importo com a música.

I AM NOT THE CAR I DRIVE. I HAVE TO REALIZE THAT SOMEDAY I WILL DIE. UNTIL I KNOW THAT, I AM USELESS.

"…and you open the door and you step inside; we're inside our hearts. Now imagine your pain as a white ball of healing light. That's right — your pain, the pain itself, is a white ball of healing light.

I don't think so.

This is your life. Good to the last drop. Doesn't get any better than this.

This is your life — and it's ending one minute at a time.

This isn't a seminar, and this isn't a weekend retreat. Where you are now, you can't even imagine what the bottom will be like. Only after disaster can we be resurrected. It's only after you've lost everything that you're free to do anything. Nothing is static; everything is evolving. Everything is falling apart.

This is your life. Doesn't get any better than this. This is your life — and it's ending one minute at a time.

You are not a beautiful and unique snowflake! You are the same decaying organic matter as everything else. We are all part of the same compost heap. We are the all-singing, all-dancing crap of the world.

You are not your bank account. You are not the clothes you wear. You are not the contents of your wallet. You are not your bowel cancer. You are not your grande latte. You are not the car you drive. You are not your fucking khakis!

You have to give up. You have to realize that someday you will die. Until you know that, you are useless.

I say, let me never be complete. I say, may I never be content. I say, deliver me from swedish furniture. I say, deliver me from clever art. I say, deliver me from clear skin and perfect teeth. I say, you have to give up. I say, evolve — and let the chips fall where they may.

This is your life. Doesn't get any better than this. This is your life — and it's ending one minute at a time.

You have to give up.

I want you to hit me as hard as you can!

Welcome to Fight Club. If this is your first night, you have to fight."