Sincerament

Un relat de: Dorian

Els advocats que cinc minuts abans s'esgarrapaven a judici es saluden cordials a la sortida, la complicitat del profit; el cirurgià que afirma a la família que encara es pot fer alguna cosa amb el seu pare de vuitanta anys que jeu amb l'estomac obert ple de sondes a l'habitació 101; la parella de Mossos que empren la sirena per arribar abans a fer el cafè; "T'estimo", em va dir; el membre de seguretat que fuma a l'estació mentre una veu gravada diu "Se recuerda que de acuerdo a la legislación vigente esta prohibido fumar en la estación"; un polític vomitant la seva insulsa i repugnant successió d'estupideses, protegit per la credibilitat que l'hi atorga el sistema i la corbata; un presentador d'informatius bronzejat, de dents perlades, ben pentinat i vestit, parlant de la fam, de l'atur, de un expedient de regulació d'ocupació de fets tant allunyats d'ell com a individu que et produeix nàusees; el sopar de Nadal; l'obra social de la Caixa; les polítiques ambientals de Repsol; "M'importes", em va dir, etc.

Creixem al líquid amniòtic de la hipocresia. De vegades ens adonem, com aquell que duu una estona respirant un gas perniciós però el seu olfacte ja s'acostuma. Crec que la qüestió rau en el nivell d'hipocresia que estem disposats a suportar, no en el fet de ser-ho, de ser hipòcrita. A aquestes alçades el que hauria de crear un corro de gent al carrer envoltant a un individu es que aquest fos honest en totes les seves facetes i no quatre imbècils disfressats de Eminem ballant amb el cap al terra. La primera mentida hauria de considerar-se com un assassinat, tipificat i penat al Codi Penal, article X. Però llavors ensorraríem la civilització, ja que des de Jesucrist tot es una farsa immensa... Com si hi hagués quelcom a ensorrar. El superhome es el directiu de banc, l'advocat sense escrúpols. Des de Colin Powell dient a la Assemblea General de Nacions Unides, ajudat per una ridícula presentació de Power Point "Això son míssils. Això una fàbrica d'armes de destrucció massiva. Això una ampolleta d'Antrax" fins al "Mare, jo no he trencat el vidre" passant per els milions de mentides quotidianes i ordinàries a nosaltres mateixos i a la resta.



Comentaris

No hi ha comentaris, comenta'l tu primer

l´Autor

Dorian

202 Relats

102 Comentaris

139254 Lectures

Valoració de l'autor: 9.39

Biografia:
"Milions son condemnats a una encara més fosca condemna que la meva, milions es revolten silenciosament contra el seu destí. Ningú coneix quantes revolucions a banda de les polítiques fermenten en les masses de gent que poblen la Terra."

"...human beings must love something, and, in the dearth of worthier objects of affection, I contrived to find a pleasure in loving and cherishing a faded graven image, shabby as a miniature scarecrow. It puzzles me now to remember with what absurd sincerity I doted on this little toy, half fancying it alive and capable of sensation."

-Currer Bell

"Soc la més eminent de les persones. I la més indigna"

-Mao Zedong

"The art of life is the art of avoiding pain"

-Thomas Jefferson

"It is a curious object of observation and inquiry, whether hatred and love be not the same thing at bottom. Each, in it's utmost development, supposes a high degree of intimacy and heart-knowledge; each renders one individual dependent for the food of his affections and spiritual life upon another; each leaves the passionate lover, or the no less passionate hater, forlorn and desolate by the withdrawal of his object."

-Nathaniel Hawthorne

"At eighteen our convictions are hills from which we look; at forty-five they are caves in which we hide"

-F.Scott Fitzgerald

"Imanishi se hallaba obsesionado con la idea de que a menos de que llegara pronto para él la destrucción, el infierno de la vida cotidiana se reavivaría y le consumiría; si la destrucción no sobrevenía inmediatamente estaría sometido todavía más tiempo a la fantasía de que le devorara la estolidez. Era mejor verse arrastrado a una catástrofe repentina y total que carcomido por el cáncer de la imaginación. Todo ello podía deberse al miedo inconsciente a que se revelara su indudable mediocridad si no se daba fin a sí mismo sin demora."

-Yukio Mishima

"Why did his mind fly uneasily to that void, as if it were the sole reason why life was not thoroughly joyous to him? I suppose it is the way with all men and woman who reach middle age without the clear perception that life never can be thoroughly joyous: under the vague dullness of the grey hours, dissatisfaction seeks a definite object, and finds it in the privation of an untried good."

-George Eliot

" [...]It is "your" congressman, "your" highway, "your" favorite drugstore, "your" newspaper; it is brought to "you", it invites "you", etc. In this manner, superimposed, standarized, and general things and functions are presented as "especially for you". It makes little difference whether or not the individuals thus addressed believe it. Its success indicates that it promotes the self-identificacion of the individuals with the functions which they and the others perform."

-Marcuse

"[...] how the drunk and the maimed both are dragged forward out of the arena like a boneless Christ, one man under each arm, feet dragging, eyes on the aether."

-David Foster Wallace

"That's the whole trouble. You can't ever find a place that's nice and peaceful, because there isn't any. You may think there is, but once you get there, when you're not looking, somebody'll sneak up and write "Fuck you" right under your nose. Try it sometime. I think, even, if I ever die, and they stick me in a cemetery, and I have a tombstone and all, it'll say "Holden Caulfield" on it, and then what year I was born and what year I died, and then right under that it'll say "Fuck you." I'm positive, in fact."

-J.D.Salinger

“The so-called 'psychotically depressed' person who tries to kill herself doesn't do so out of quote 'hopelessness' or any abstract conviction that life's assets and debits do not square. And surely not because death seems suddenly appealing. The person in who Its invisible agony reaches a certain unendurable level will kill herself the same way a trapped person will eventually jump from the window of a burning high-rise. Make no mistake about people who leap from buring windows. The terror of falling from a great height is still as great as it would be for you or me standing speculatively at the same window just checking out the view; i.e. the fear of falling remains a constant. The variable here is the other terror, the fire's flames. And yet nobody down on the sidewalk, looking up and yelling 'Don't!' and "Hang on!', can understand the jump. Not really. You'd have to have personally been trapped and felt flames to really understand a terror way beyond falling”
― David Foster Wallace, Infinite Jest