Saturday, March 5, 2011

to stop or not to stop writing literature





Frantically. Expansively. Heart in hand. Head in clouds. By turns. Continuously. My protagonist woke up today in such late morning. Melinda, my leading personage. Asked me to play and sing for her. My voice would not measure up to the tones and colors required to this task. My fingers were uncomfortable, I would strum the guitar. But she wanted. And she wanted much, overmuch. “One For My Baby”.

After that, I really began to think that I should stop writing literature. Which, for me, does not equal any sorrowful through loss but a state of being secreted into something I just never had. That's what I mean when I feel mourning and melancholy as a dichotomy. The first sets up something you just lost. The second brings to heart something you never had. My fictionisms – a zigzag effort to hold something – could have been nothing but an empty place. This is the very feeling of melancholy. When you don't have, even if you really wanted to…

1 comment:

Maria Cláudia S. Lopes said...

this song really blew me away...