É lógico que eu estou numa péssima fase. Eu estou numa péssima fase há 26 anos. O médico diz que eu tenho uma “disfunção patológica do humor”, o que é só um nome chique pra algum tipo de depressão, provavelmente causada pelos mesmos velhos questionamentos que eu me faço desde que li o primeiro livro da minha vida. Ele me pergunta o que eu tenho feito ultimamente, e eu digo que estou assistindo todos os episódios de Mr Robot e Bojack The Horseman e ele ri como se não entendesse e também não desse a mínima. Ai eu completo falando que também estou reescutando toda a discografia dos Replacements e ele dá de ombros, deve achar que é algum grupo de hip hop do momento. Ele me dá a receita, eu vou até a farmácia e gasto o dinheiro achando uma bobagem. Aí eu chego em casa e fico encarando as paredes, contando quantos cigarros eu fumei porque prometi que esse ano ia parar, mas eu nunca consigo cumprir nenhuma promessa mesmo.

Not here, not now

Things are not going that great, are they?

I know you tought you’d be fine at your age

I know you’ve dreamt with glorious things

But so millions of others did

From the beggining of the wolrd until today

And still they couldn’t reach it

They couldn’t get it

Didn’t manage to go for it

Why you thought that it would be different for you?

You’ve been struggling just like anyone else

But that’s just not enough

Nowadays you cannot fail

You can’t show weakness

You can’t miss an opportunity

It’s a sad  and cruel world

You better get used to it.

Who told you things were going to be easy?

They never were, they never will be

Get up and be ready for the next beating

But don’t let them finish you

This is all they ever wanted

This is why you can't fall down.

Not here

Not now.

encarando a vida com a seriedade
de um morto no necrotério
caminhando sem destino por Londres
suas ruas repletas de mistérios.

dia desses vi uma carruagem
conduzida por dois homens de cartola e terno
levavam atrás um reluzente caixão
cercado de flores e de um retrato fraterno

de repente tive um nó na garganta
o perceber da efemeridade vital
respirei fundo, refiz as contas
a morte sempre vence no final.

Perhaps the thing I like the most in pop music is its power to synthesize feelings and emotions in a simple and well done piece. It's like getting a shortcut to a long distance walk, using those three minutes to express deep territories that goes from joy through sadness, sometimes both condensed in the middle of a sweet voice combined with a great melody. Basically, I believe that pop music, specially the one made in the 60s, is a psychological instrument. You can get really sad with that special song. You can feel absurdly happy with that other tune. You can dance like hell with some sweet soul music, or feel extremely angry with that great punk classic. You can feel like flying or dying, it's up to those three minutes, those lyrics, those instruments, that production, that cover, that great sound that comes from your speaker. I'm not kidding when I say that music saves lives. It does. It really does. It may not be as effective as medicines or surgeries, but its definitely a way of keeping yourself on the right track. If this is your way of living, you'll probably find a way of expressing yourself without any words being said. It's all in the song. It has always been in the song. Just stick that needle and let it flow. You have three minutes to save your life. You can be whoever you want to, whatever you want to. Enjoy as much as you can. These are the best three minutes of your life.