Arquivo da categoria ‘Ten’

…and the barrel waits, trigger shakes, aimed right at my head, won’t you help me? help me from myself?
Everyone reaches a moment in their lives where they ask ‘when did this start? Where did it al go wrong?’ We commiserate while we, then, ask ‘why me?’ Or, paraphrasing our dearest Pearl Jam, we conclude ‘there’s no God with a plan and my loneliness is proof’.
Anyway, I’ve reached a point in my life where those questions have no longer any space. And all I’m left with are my own mistakes and how the answers to my questions aren’t wrong at all. It’s just the questions I’d been asking were the wrong ones.
So ‘why me?’ is answered with ‘I made it happen’. And I no longer care when it started to go wrong but just how can I start to re-make it right.
The tears streaming down my face become pearls of wisdom whilst reflecting the sun. So the pain becomes experience. And transforms itself into a beautiful attitude of wanting to be an even better person.
A wise man from my country says ‘the bad things people do to me don’t make me feel bad. The bad things I do to people do.’ That’s my motto now. I’ll be true, I’ll be good. Faithful to you (my friends, my family, everyone I hold dear in my heart).

“and now I rub my eyes, for (they) have returned”

 

Tomorrow six months will have passed since the closing of Pearl Jam’s tour in Brazil. It was the second time their world tour was passing through our country and the second time we had a chance to attend some concerts. Coincidentally or not, both years were not exactly easy financially speaking, so there was no way we could tour around the country with them. Which I would blindly do given any remote chance.

In 2005 I was an active member of Ten Club, so both I and my wife Fernanda got special tickets that weren’t that special in the end. We attended the Porto Alegre gig and then one of the Sao Paulo nights. The shows were awesome, of course and, even though we would relive the whole setlist many times later through the boots and the pictures, the experience itself was over with the last notes.

In 2011 I was not an active member of Ten Club and I had been a little sloppy with my true obsession with Pearl Jam for a while. I had become an adult and needed to pay the bills. I somewhat stopped listening to music altogether and became unconsciously a less happy person because of that. When the tour was announced, though, the old spark was lit and my passion was back like it had never left. In fact it had never left me, not even for a minute.

We only had enough funds to attend our home town show, the last of the tour. Every Pearl Jam fan knows that the closing gigs are always special, so I was almost OK with that. But weeks before they arrived to Brazil I got to know I was needed in Rio for my job, and I’d be there on the day of the show. When it comes to fanaticism we don’t measure our acts, so I managed to buy a student’s half-priced entrance (the only one available at that moment) and, since my wife wasn’t with me, called a local friend to have some company. The concert was magical as you can read on a previous post from the time: https://reflexodaletra.wordpress.com/2011/11/12/pearl-jam-in-brasil-november-2011/

Back in Porto Alegre, we couldn’t wait for them to come. My wife Fernanda was the founder of Pearl Jam’s first Fan Club in Brazil back in 1991, so she had some sleeping fanaticism of her own to go along. We took my younger sister with us and made her “PJ Conversion” official. The concert was on 11.11.11, a special day in every mean. Even more because in September is our anniversary.

To celebrate our 12 years together, we booked a table at Sheraton for breakfast. Being the same hotel PJ had stayed back in 2005, we hoped to at least see them. It was a lot better. When we were finishing our 2-hour-long breakfast, Stone Gossard was suddenly two tables to the left. I went over there, thanked him for the show and all the good moments throughout the years and got him to sign my ticket. No pictures, though, they kindly asked me.

After some more time, and since none of the others came, we went downstairs and waited for them in the lobby. After about half an hour Boom Gaspar came down. Another chat and autograph. We decided to split, so I went outside and Fernanda stayed inside. When the band was leaving, Fernanda asked Eddie Vedder for a picture, kindly taken by a security guy with her cellphone. Mike McCready took a picture of us people on the outside (later to be published on his twitter account) and Ed shook our hands for some minutes, thanking each and every one of the fans for their presence.

A truly magical week, and a day we will never forget. Some of the registered moments are attached to this post as to illustrate how grown-ups can easily go back to being teenagers for some time. And be damn proud of that! Cheers and Rock On!

After the show, with the newly acquired T-Shirt

The ticket with Stone’s and Boom’s autographs

Eddie Vedder heading for the van and airport

Picture taken by Mike McCready

Pearl Jam – Garden

Publicado: 18/10/2011 em Pearl Jam, Ten

I don’t question our existence, I just question our modern needs

Em várias conversas atuais sobre sustentabilidade com o amigo Leandro Ribeiro (http://leandrokobe180.blogspot.com/), discutimos a amplitude do conceito e formas de tornar o assunto mais palatável e compreensível. Por exemplo, de que adianta economizarmos água se o vizinho lava o carro de mangueira na garagem do condomínio, separarmos o lixo se a zeladoria mistura no depósito, economizar produtos de limpeza se a faxineira não souber o significado de ‘diluível’?

Além destes tópicos mais comumente reconhecidos como tangentes à sustentabilidade, o que falar do consumo? A passagem alerta para isso. Não questionemos o progresso e as necessidades das nossas vidas modernas, a não ser que as necessidades não o sejam na realidade. Precisamos mesmo trocar de carro todo ano para sermos considerados pessoas de sucesso? As roupas de marca que escolhemos são realmente melhores a ponto de custarem tão caro ou estamos financiando mercados escravocratas para ostentar um símbolo muitas vezes ininteligível?

De nada adianta discutirmos o final do suprimento de água/petróleo, a extinção dos ursos-panda ou o aquecimento global enquanto ignorarmos os pontos onde nossos próprios sapatos apertam. Discutamos nossas necessidades e nossos próprios desperdícios. No dia que cada cabeça mover-se individualmente, poderemos deixar os pandas em paz.

ENGLISH

During some recent discussions over sustainability with my friend Leandro Ribeiro (http://leandrokobe180.blogspot.com/) we argued about the broadness of the concept and ways to make it more palatable and reasonable. For example, what use is it to save water if our neighbor uses a hose to wash his/her car, to separate the trash if the janitors discard it all together later on, or to minimize the usage of cleaning products if the maid doesn’t know the meaning of the word ‘dilutable’?

Besides these more commonly known tangibles to sustainability topics, what can we say about consumption? The quote calls attention to that. We shouldn’t question progress and our modern life needs, unless the needs are not really needs. Do we really have to change cars every year to be recognized as successful people? The designer clothes we chose are really that much better to cost so much or are we financing enslaver markets to show off a symbol that sometimes we can’t even understand?

It’s good for nothing that we discuss the end of water or petroleum supply, panda-bears extinction or global warmth while we ignore the points where our own shoes don’t fit. Let’s discuss our necessities and our own waste. The day each of our heads move individually, we can finally leave the pandas alone.

Pearl Jam – Release

Publicado: 07/08/2011 em Pearl Jam, Ten

“oh dear dad, can you see me now? i am myself like you somehow. i’ll wait up in the dark for you to speak to me”

Para abrir os trabalhos, nada melhor que uma pitada de drama. Ouço muitas pessoas reclamarem de uma música por ela ser depressiva. Confesso que são essas minhas favoritas, especificamente porque acho que não existe música depressiva. Existem pessoas depressivas – ou com alguma tendência momentânea à depressão – ouvindo música.

Todos nós temos nossos momentos dramáticos, depressivos até. Há alguns anos perdi meu pai para o câncer. Naquele momento tive a certeza que fora-se a única pessoa que verdadeiramente me entendia. Meu chão ruiu e meu mundo ficou cinza. Quem já passou por isso sabe a sensação de frio congelante, de desespero quase tangível. Mas, como tudo no mundo, passa. Não de forma a esquecermos a dor; jamais. Ela perdura. As lembranças, entretanto, sobrepujam o sofrimento. Vencemos a batalha, cedo ou tarde, e “conversamos” com as boas memórias.

Dessa forma me pego trocando ideias com meu pai. Imagino a reação dele a cada conquista. Enxergo com clareza sua cara de reprovação a cada escolha errada e a imediata reação de incentivo à retomada do caminho certo. E vejo no espelho o rosto dele refletido em mim. Isso porque ele nunca morreu: vive em mim e nos outros que o amaram como eu, refletido em nossos corações.

ENGLISH

“oh dear dad, can you see me now? i am myself like you somehow. i’ll wait up in the dark for you to speak to me”

Nothing better than a little bit of drama to start this blog. I hear a lot of people complain about a song for it is depressive. I confess those are my favorite ones, especially because I don’t think there is such a thing as depressive music. There are depressive people – or ones with a momentary tendency to depression – listening to music.

We’ve all had our dramatic, even depressive, moments. Some years ago I lost my father to cancer. On that moment I was certain to have lost the only person who truly understood me. I lost my base, my world turned to black. Whoever’s been through that knows the sensation of freezing cold, almost tangible despair. But we move on, as with everything else in the world. We don’t move on in a way to get through with the pain. Never. It stands. The memories, however, overcome the grief. We win the battle, sooner or later, and we “communicate” with the good memories.

In that way I catch myself chatting with my dad. I imagine his reaction to each of my victories. I can see his reproval look clearly every time I make a wrong choice and his immediate reaction of encouragement for me to return to the right path. And I see his face in the mirror, reflected in me. For he hasn’t died: he lives within me and within the others who loved him like me, reflected in our hearts.