confess that I'm older fans. Soda did not grow up listening or anything like that. Moreover, I became the typical ignorant knew only Light Music by the "local time" for birthdays and weddings. Forgive is Divine?
A Cerati She and I met with a few days apart, maybe hours. She while writing a song out of tune a history essay and I, ever curious, asked what she tried to sing only to find conversation: "Paseo Gustavo Cerati immoral!" I answered at once and while humming.
I'm not entirely clear whether at that moment I began my terrible and immoral changing trip accompanied by my new friend, just know that that night I downloaded the entire discography of the teacher. One of the best ways to know how a woman really is by listening music.
She talked about her idol whenever he had the chance. He knew absolutely every his lyrics, the more absurd details of his life and spent all damn day listening without fatigue. His eyes were love, admiration and absolute devotion Cerati and so I came to hate in the most absurd. I assume a figure ethereal, distant, unreachable and hundreds of miles away, made me feel more stupid and childish jealousy. I loved incoherently without knowing too - maybe even love - and I had no other than trying to ignore my stupidity.
Gustavo was presented as an immoral and walk through She became a scar on me. More beyond my alleged nuisance, the background music of our travels through life was shaped by each and every one of the compositions by Argentine. How to fight like ceratiana current? She sang and sang and I laughed at how bad it was. However, I enjoyed listening and I was out of context without their screams out of tune. I loved being with her but in the end we always ended up doing the same : two or three cigarettes in the park forever, and between each puff , without realizing, I started to feel like the lyrics own former vocalist of Soda Stereo : a song for every feeling, for every story, for each circumstance and even for Her.
Ortega y Gasset described it as a transient state of imbecility, I would define as the perfect state and the fundamental reason for existence. No doubt she was the mistress of all my thoughts, the place of departure, the sound of the shot that announced the game, race track, the goal, the photo finish and the ultimate prize. Even his essence as the public that cheered my success and my name shouted to lose my voice. It really made me feel alive !
I gave Here we go I just found out that was available in stores. The same day, walking around Caracas, she began to explain the plot of the 13 songs on the album. The exception was love at first sight, Goodbye made me doubt about the absurd situation - how long would it last? - And I'm staying here finally convinced me that I was in the place where it should be and that she was always possible to start from scratch but everything went under, a steady start. Lake in the sky ratified as more dream landscape and as a result, after two and a half years, I know that I managed my differences with Gustavo Cerati. Things impossible!
First was the concert in the amphitheater Sambil Center, after the return of Soda Stereo in La Rinconada. Meanwhile, occupations, lack of gray and a series of silly and pointless reasons made cigars in the park always made less and less frequent. I played the dull quiet of being away from her, to take refuge in the vacuum far from his name and face and change your company by overwork or ambitions for money and recognition. But she was still there, present in the music he heard on the office, in the picture window of my room where she used to smoke behind my parents in the park provided on the three or four photos that had stuck to the cork. "She used my head like a revolver ?
Occasionally escaped me your name by mistake. It was hard to keep a distance and break ties. However, we always left enough clues to know one another. I'm not entirely clear if we did - and still do-with some kind of unconscious intention. I hated it many times but I also agree that I loved her - and maybe even love her - many times over.
I saw her again after more than six months in the old park bench, the game to appeal to the antipathy lasted no more than ten minutes. She was studying, or at least had the pantomime, I still believed in his eyes as the first day . After a while, we said goodbye flavored dots.
ellipsis became semi-colons, semicolons in points and tracked. She and I were in separate paragraphs but there were still some major ideas that kept us united in the distance beyond the third and circumstances.
Overwork led to more money, some recognition publications, meetings in the corner with childhood friends moved to the great ballrooms of five-star hotels. I decided to leave me a beard and gray hair peeked, there was no time for exercise and extra kilos entered the scene. appeared hundreds of thousands of women of all shapes and forms, but none knew how to fly like her and in less than five minutes I was completely bored. She was a million light years from home but, ironically, only a phone call.
I tried to run away, to erase all traces on the Internet that he had left, I turned from the literature for fear conseguírmela between images of Shakespeare, Neruda or Rimbaud, I quit out of fear to cigarette smoke formed figure and stopped drinking it to avoid long for your company or mention out of context. She appeared when he felt like - I always was - and my hands were sweating and tachycardia came to light exactly like the first time I saw her. Perhaps we are doomed to eternal recurrence of the same, as said Nietzsche.
The only logical reason to not go to concert Natural Force in the Universidad Simón Bolívar topármela was the fear of the crowd. Live Cerati, Ella, each of the letters tattooed on the staff able to relive every single emotion that had been trying to postpone for more than five years. I looked for the slightest excuse to avoid buying the entry and was successful, unfortunately. Cerati and she was looking in my subconscious and be all three in the same place could mean a total and final collapse. She was my right and I was scared accept it.
When I heard about the stroke and Gustavo had fallen into a coma I felt disgustingly guilty. My vocal cords, which were damaged by the bad old infection cured, were about to explode by singing his songs with all my strength.
think about it and what would be shattered by the terrible fate of Cerati. I had the need to write, I knew I was right. I wanted to be with you to dry your tears and make her laugh. The wanted - maybe even love her - and my number one priority was his happiness.
Today, after so many years after the first day, while singing songs of the maestro Cerati their lungs, regardless of my throat problems, it is inevitable relive every one of the words and actions of her, all perfectly adapted to the compositions the Argentine.
I want to break the sound barrier and that the noise of my thoughts be heard throughout Caracas. I guess there are other ways to dull the typical bustle of the city, but today I have only wanted to sing. I am aware that the more edge over my voice is deteriorating. However, it is time to think about tomorrow dysphonia but the strong cry that I am releasing peeking through my picture window. Perhaps pretend that She heard in the distance and return unexpectedly, as always.
She's still there - always loved his madness - silent, absent, indifferent, but close to his style. I feel for She is intact, but hoping this awakening ... As Gustavo.
