Do you
remember the smoke faith? Well, it has been here all the time. Now it’s worse, because
it’s smoke combined with social networking, and perhaps things that I better
not know for my own sake. Living and bearing. I’m tired. I’ve said it before. We
rest when we are working, so we can stop thinking about those disappointments
that we haven’t had time – and we’ll never will, by the way – to process, to
understand, and learn from them to carry
on, and see what next. Next is an improvisation when we’re poor. We can see it
as an endless adventure but a boring
one. Movies are not about real poor. When they are about poor, the poor are
somehow successful at the end of the movie. We know that won’t be our end. If
we’ll make it to the end, we’ll remain poor, or old. Old enough not to enjoy
it, only to remember it, and tell others about when waiting at the hospital for
a new prescription. I’m close… of that
life and of the eighty thousand words. My silent achievement… Good for me, I
guess.
What is this
I’ve just read? It feels like I just woke up from a miserable life tale. The
only thing I enjoyed was the wine, and that’s a good reason to move out after
all; one has to be in a place when we can drink. There’s no point to work – all
kinds of work: work out, work in, work at, or work for – if there’s no drinking
afterwards. Thoughts and ideas need to
gravitate, to become part of the ether,
and be there for whoever wants to grab such knowledge, and do something with
it. That’s the purpose of any writing, in my opinion: be part of the future.
Someone may need some, even these pathetic sort of confessions, anything will
be useful, a least as a reference, and
to start flowing around, our body is going to need some fuel, and I don’t know what’s
better than alcohol for such a purpose. It’s
Friday today, another reason to get a drink after these office hours. If I were
in Venezuela, the Venezuela before Maduro era, I would be drinking right
now and watching the Olympic Games, then I would be going to any social network
to forget and keep drinking. Those were
the days, yes! Actually the day didn’t
end that bad. New versions from a live concert to amuse myself while listening.
I also saw Celine Dion at the opening. It was great, just like these songs of
Ghost. Little victories to cheer me up.
This story can’t be only a grief. It just can’t.
Saturday
morning. I’m in the mood for an ice cream. Let’s see. Tomorrow it’s election
day in Venezuela. I wish us the best, we
need the best to keep going, to know that we finally can consider a return. My
hope is now there. I have been skeptical and cynical about it, just as many
others, but the truth is that we are hoping for a change, our people need a
change. Let’s at least have faith. We
all want our kids to at least have the chance to visit where their parents are
from. The culture, the Caribbean culture. The mix, the fact that our skin comes
from a variety of races and origins, that we are not just another Hispanic community, and they need to get it first hand
and not only from parents tales. Today is the day, by the way! Thousands of
Venezuelans in the street trying this one last attempt to beat Maduro
and mist of the chavismo off the government. It’s election day. The only day the people believe
– and are in fact, why not! – they can turn the path of the country by choosing
different. I know it has happened
before, and that the government is who does
the count of the votes after all. I know that the forecast is not
promising, I know it has never been
encouraging, but I choose to believe. I feel it different now. Perhaps because
I’m far from my city, perhaps because Nostalgia grows stronger out if
sadness, I don’t know, but today I want
to have faith my country will prevail. Our people will prevail. Venezuelans
can’t have another period of darkness. It’s enough. It was enough since ten
years ago. It has to stop. We’ll see! Monday
morning. It’s raining. There’s a lot to do
at work. I’m not sure if I know what they mean when they say close outs, but I
have to do them, whatever they are. I thought this was going to be the happy
ending of this tragedy, that I could
write some paragraphs of hope. I want to do it but I don’t feel like doing so.
The government played with our faith once again, or perhaps they are trying one
last move, who knows! The thing is that they have proclaimed themselves the
winners of these elections. I mean Maduro won, according to them. One of
the most despised people alive, have
been proclaimed a winner of a popularity based contest. No fiction tell more
lies than these bunch of thugs. Truth is what power conquest, maybe, but
they don’t have it enough to make the world believe them. Now they will waste
the people’s hope in sustaining a lie. It’s kind of sadistic; mean and
sadistic. Whatever done on behalf of the
equality, always turn out to be the most unfair. Now I have to rethink, we all
have to rethink – and get back to work first, of course – Yes. I just forgot.
Our sorrows always have to be delayed. Work comes first when you’re poor and
needy. See you later!
Now the Orwellian
forwarded allegedly news: I have a cousin, whose husband has a brother,
whose father in law is in the army, and he said that there are rumors that many
officers are displeased with such an attribution, that this is an insult to the
people and to them, that a strike might be getting set, or even more, a coup
from the inside of the army to take down the insolence of Maduro and have a
free Venezuela at last. This is not a mock, and I’m not trying to make fun
out of this tragedy. My country is grieving,
my people suffer, and these are the kind of news many are forwarding now.
Since I read 1984, I started to believe all these rumors are made up from the
very core of the government, just to
amuse their sadistic impulse, and see how faith is spread and fade into rumors,
while they drink the finest whisky and sniff the highest quality of cocaine on
earth. This must be happening now in a five star suite of one of those hotels
they expropriated in the name of the greater good of the nation.
