Humans | Absurdia.Net

August 26, 2015

STFU

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Now and then I hear somebody wondering at people talking to themselves. But these apparently senseless monologues are not that different in nature from the average phone conversation or even from the act of sitting in front of a screen. The reason people are so easily engrossed and addicted to things like television and the internet, why they even feel the need for games and shows and magazines, is kind of obvious, really. And it’s the same with their love of sociability and, in the end, with most of the things they do, actually. It seems people are afraid of being left alone with that meandering little voice in their heads that speaks to them about the terrifying side of their lives, about the everyday minutest vile truths.

“This is what it’s going to be like, this is how it has always been. There is no such thing as a present, time is forever the same. Can’t you see death is not beyond the curve, nor is it at your heels? It’s eating away at you from your viscera. You are your own gravedigger.”

And it’s not only speaking of grand things as death. It also knows of all the causes for remorse and regret, of the flavorlessness of days and years wasted delaying and downsizing possibilities, of trading ideals for trim junk. It knows of the raised voices and commonplace prevarications, of the unforgivable word said out of arrogant stupidity, whether or not it was taken back at a later date. It knows of the broken promise, the withdrawn hand, and the inattentive ear; of the crushing weight of rejected responsibilities, whose embrace reaches far and wide. How relatively easy it is to drown the little voice in background noise and to live the illusion of resetting the clock each day. The more encompassing the daily racket, the better. How convenient that these days the nights are short and every threatening hint of loneliness is pushed at the corners.

June 25, 2013

A polyglot dog can spoil your night walk

A drunk man approaches us (me + partner in crime + dog) in the night. He was shouting insults at the Prime Minister’s house until that moment and I was hoping he would not get too close. He starts psychobabbling about government, corruption and social ineptitude, so the partner in crime goes with the routine “Desculpe, não falamos Português” (sorry, we do not speak Portuguese) as this usually works like a charm when you need to drive the loons away. Well, it didn’t work this time as the man asked without even blinking, “E o cão?” (and the dog?) to which the partner in crime replied, “Não fala também” (he doesn’t either), condemning us to listen to the man raving for the next 20 minutes.

August 3, 2009

The same story, everytime

I‘ve been knowing people like that for a long time. You thought you could fool me? With just what you did? Or that your intentions weren’t clear? That I really believed any word? Wrong move. I’m not smart, but I’m not a complete fool either. And now I’m angry. Not much though. Too many times I witnessed the same thing happening to be really angry. I’m a little angry and annoyed. Males are like that, mostly; you’re too easy to guess. It’s a shame I didn’t make a mistake this time. For a moment I hoped it was a different script you were reading. But no, it was not the case. Why don’t you start thinking females are not mere prolongations or your megalomania? They’re not receptacles with hormones going bonkers in the background. They have identities too. They can do things, and think with their heads. And see through your tricks. They’re not following the steps you’re suggesting every single time. Being polite on the surface and do what you want behind their backs isn’t going to work every time. Only once in a while. This strategy is stale. Holy tapdancing Jesus, reinvent yourself! Tsk.

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May 12, 2009

Histories of petty crime I

There’s someone in need of some serious spanking in the neighborhood. Someone having fun going around wrecking other people’s cars, making huge holes in their tyres, and so forth. What the hell. The average working person earns just what’s needed to live from day to day, to send kids to school and pay bills; the non-working person, usually somebody who’s retired after a crappy life doing awful things, has just what it’s needed for various vital expenses, and some brain-dead louse, aged from 15 to 30, with a fucking family always ready to save his ugly lazy useless ass, has the luxury to go around making a mess and destroying in a mere five minutes all the efforts a person surviving on a lousy pension or salary does in a whole month or more, forcing this person to jeopardize the whole family balance for a selfish and senseless destructive impulse. How I’d like to kick those people in their sorry asses and make them admit they’re the most useless scum ever; how I’d like them to be forced to do some real work once in their lives so they would at least know money is not produced by trees growing in the shitty courtyard behind their paternal houses. Those fuckers seriously need an injection of conscience.

Category: Humans