Who Am I?When the conversation between me and myself is cool, often it happens to question about the true or the personality flaws and the achievements accomplished on the life long living. For example, I usually ask myself what sort of sinusoidal curve mixes literature, theatre, research, press, television, and teaching?
When thinking about the main areas of myself and the activities accomplished, I realize the different paths of a life. However, I guess if there is a consistent structure, one has to discover it through a method of conversions whose values are unknown in the equivalency chart as a whole.
Could it be a gentle and highly delirious curve?
Well, it could be. The bending of the curve is unexpected, winding, and often perceived as fortuitous even though one´s intuition and intelligence insists on contradicting its casual nature. The seal of identity exists. Even if - or specially when - one toys with the rules in the game of thesis and anti-thesis seemingly absurd whether concealing or revealing emancipating synthesis. I believe that if there is a meaning to the life of the creator its logical explanation revolves around this type of curve. Bearing in mind, however, the constant breaking of the rules through a free and freeing glance towards delirious life...
It is through this perspective that the dynamic links should be activated. The paths that are drawn from a center originated within a detected identity and point to unpredictable routes. All with a sense of unity that can be found in the deepest entrails of my deep world. That's why I decided to write this text and finally reveal all the truth about.
Letter on an open format style from Carlos, the Author, to Manuel, the playwriter, to Pires, the professor and, last but not the least, to Mr. Correia, the avatar, conceived as the virtual self.
Preconceived ideas are traps specially when they become word of mouth: the bigger the feigner, the quicker one finds out that he gets to feel the fake of the pain / the pain he truly feels.
This verse has been used so many times that it seems like a mouldy old cake. Could this fatal attraction for Fernando Pessoa´s poetry come from the promise of the fungi - germinated from the mould ?
Leave the answer for Fleming, the finder of the holy penicillin, in case he knows and like to share.
I know for a fact that it hurts to write about myself and I have many doubts when coming up with a text in a style of an autobiography.
If I say that I write then I look within the memory that I have of the books and it crops up out of focus, diffused as if the writer denied to appear when called upon to talk about his work.
Damn him!
This writer is a wretched soul that lives in the corners of a continent that someone oddly called Id.
With no apparent reason...
For quite some time now Mr. Carlos, the writer, has been on sabbatic leave and has not written at all since. Let´s be frank, after all...
However, sometimes he still sends a few postcards. In them he confirms that he does not know for how long the leave will last and thus continues to go fishing on the river of memory through rushing streams and whirlwinds that only he is aware of.
It´s settled! I´m going to retaliate and I shall not jot down another word on the writer Carlos!
If I say that I write plays I search for the dramas of the play writer and realise that it also vanished into a massive black screen. Yet again the proof that the denial to talk about the plays and shows exists. He too left without saying adieu, not even a bye-bye or an au revoir.
Hellas! the French farewells...
I learned - through a postcard that the writer had the kindness to send to me - that the play writer was now an actor in a company of mountebanks in a play running in the deepest entrails of this world.
It´s settled! I´m going to retaliate and I shall not jot down another word on Manuel the dramatist!!
If I say that I teach then I look within the memory of the teacher and it also crops up out of focus and diffused as if he too refused to show up when called upon. Hypocrite!
How many students have you flunked during these almost 38 years of teaching?
Still you hide under the elitist PhD cloak in order to avoid talking about your diatribes?
Do you think this veil of fantasy can conceal the naked truths that you have omitted?
You are quite wrong man... The day will come when I shall see you fall from that doctoral pedestal and there will be no net - not even the internet - to catch you...
It´s settled! I´m going to retaliate and I shall not jot down another word on Pires, the Professor!
If I say that I research and publish multimedia stuff, then I look in my memory for images that I helped to produce and I do not find any trace or proof of the things I did for television or Internet applications!
What sort of curse is this?
A curse that erases from my memory the fundamental footsteps of my theatrical life in which a thousand experiences are condensed into the dynamic fram of a lifetime?
Could the brightness of the feigner linked to the rhyme of the word pain (fingidor / dor) be the cause for all this?
What a stupid rhyme!
It´s settled! I´m going to retaliate and I shall not jot down another word on the researcher Correia, PhD!
Or on anyone else!
So I order Mr. Manuel to finish the holidays he calls sabatic!
And Mr. Pires shall return on stage!!!
And Professor Correia must work on the fantastic multimedia!!!
So let bet on a Carlos happy and productive live, as he is supposed to tell how hard it is to live together with so many people in a crammed attic with your bald head - but with a nice and robust moustache for you to show in forgiving poor satisfaction...
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