15 Minutes Of Fame (Fitting Day)

I’m left in this windowless room
Me and Vi in each corner of this long table
Both in silence
Lost in our tasks
Lost in our minds
While the city wheels run full blow

We glance at each other here and there
We bond in our loneliness and patience
We stand by to stand by
We run to wait
We dance to the biz’s music
Going from forgotten to suddenly highly demanded

We can hear our circus on the room nearby
We hear the Polaroid snapshots
The incessant phone rings
The stressed voices overpowering each other
We hear the gossip whispers
And the models complains

I close my eyes
I can picture every one of the thirty or so faces hanging in there
Hanging on their hang ups

I fill up my empty minutes with Bukowski’s words
Between text messages, emails and radio transmissions
I look busy
But there is a huge slot of pulsing energy ready to be requested
I’m alert on the starting line
Yearning to feel useful
But they move in their own flow
They play their own song
It looks like a slow day

I stare at the blank screen
I surf the Internet
I read my book
I take small sips of water

I feel haunted by the thousands of clothes
Hanging on this sea of wardrobe wracks I’m surrounded by
I see them alive
I feel sorrow for their fate


They will soon be filled by pale skinny bodies
They will be running around Page Street and Seacliff Beach
Arranging themselves into their hangers curves
Resting their fabric into live skins
Searching for the right light
Posing for the cold lenses of a fancy camera

They will be live and colorful for the photos
Glamorized by accessories, hairstyles, make up
Each piece will have its own important denomination
Their names will be heard over and over again
With an entire crew running after them
Frazzled and screaming if any piece sneaks away for a split second

They will be fundamental
Ultimately, the show is about them
But human ego tends to often overshadow that priority

We’ll be seating around
Running into our overtime
While waiting for the fights to be over
And decisions to be made
They will make, the clothes will
They will be seen in Fashion magazines
And freeway billboards
They will stand tall on the stores walls

Legions of young girls will stare from close
Following their trend
Eager to look just like the girl in the picture
Thousands of young boys will stare from close
Watching their trend
Yearning to be with the girl from the picture

The hero clothes will be then just flat images
They will be turn into dimensionless portraits
Hoping to be seen by the piercing eyes of the fashion world

Their actual lives will be shortly lived
They will expire after the three shooting days
Mindlessly folded on their way back to their cardboard coffin
That will be buried on a dusty stock room of the headquarters
They won’t be worn again
They will be left alone in their melancholy
Remembering the golden hours of their fifteen minutes of fame

The Elephant

She comes out of her steel truck
Moving her sovereignty slowly
She walks calmly
Like she was one of us

She doesn't bother our mindless presence
She doesn't mind our differences

She is there quietly eating
And we suddenly walk in like a sect
Poking her
Taking pictures
Standing around like curious monkeys
Interrupting her peaceful world of instincts
With random commands and stupid orders
all it matters is our shallow satisfaction

She doesn't mind our hostile humanity
Dipped in sorrow and infatuation

She is there
Simply being

I watch her awareness
She looks distracted with her meal
But every civilian move is noted with a head nod

She's gentle
She subtly chooses to allow us being around her

I'm lost in her
Fulfilled with respect and curiosity
I feel her power
Her age
her wisdom
I feel her patience and peace
Massive as she is
Taking her time

She is here and only here
There is no past or future but instincts
All the years she's been on this earth

I'm standing in eerie
Intrigued by the life she leads
Wondering the world through her eyes and paws
I think about every single one of the scars she carries on her thick skin
I wonder how does she feels
How much she knows

There she is
So foreign to this movie crew
There right on top of her
Taking their Kodak moments with the elephant
While not seeing her at all

Humans
Don't they know
Don't they understand

I'm fascinated
More compelled to her than any human in this crew
Wishing I had a little more of her "elephance" in me

I'm left here
Wishing it was just me and her
Learning our similarities
Without intruding our differences

Me and her
Just here and now

Me and her
Just being

Spell

You know what it's the fucked up part
I truly know that you ought to be part of my life
There is no way out of this certainty
It simply is
I can feel it right here in my gut
I can't run from this knot in my chest
It's freaking intense
It's like a spell

I've tried to deny it
Fight it
I've tried to erase with replacements in every level
I've tried to talk to myself out of it
And find the origin of this feeling that must be mad
Must be unfounded
Must be some kind of a rejection complex or something like it

But then, underneath all my self battle
There is this storm brewing in my core every time I think about you
And lets be honest here
It happens all the time
Everything brings you to my mind

I just want to turn the other way
And move on
I want to say the hell with all this bullshit
Truth is he must not be into me
It's just all crazy shit in my head
I got to walk away
But then, when I'm almost starting to believe it
The feeling comes back even stronger
Compressing the entirety of my body from within

See, it's right here
I've been feeling it
Since the moment I started
Thinking about writing these exact thoughts
Here in this blank screen

I lose my breath a bit
My heart beats faster
I feel uneasy
My whole body squeezes
It's physical
Still, it's not painful at all
It just feels like a deep sense
A knowing
A certainty

It makes me wonder if that's the kind of feeling
A psychic has about things
It's a clear intuition
It doesn't recite words
It's not a voice in my brain
Either makes a logical sense of any sort
It's just is

And even if time goes by
And people come and go through our lives
Even if we forget each other
And life takes us into different paths
Somehow I know we'll eventually be part of each other's lives
And it will be sooner than later

We are bound to be together

My Predator Half

I've been feeling like a predator going through my 1/3 life crisis
I've always looked at men with perverted eyes
I take an incredible pleasure from observing them
I can feel their grips and how their hands run through a woman's body
I can picture their smile when in love 

and all the tenderness flashing out of their lingering eyes
I can feel their pain and happiness
Their cries of broken heart or broken dreams

I can see the child in them, and also the tiger within

I imagine how they whisper when making love
Their hoarse voices in the morning
I watch their calves going up and down the streets
Their forearms holding tight to steering wheels
I picture them naked
I imagine them jerking off in their dark bedrooms, living rooms, showers
I think about what kind of horny thoughts trigger their minds
How their bodies shiver when they cum
I love men and their details

I can now tell from far the thrivers from the complainers
Those who shut down when hurt
Those who go right back into their teenager fighting tools
Those who use their sorrows as character builders

I can smell their methods from miles away
But I've been arrogant in my wisdom
I may soon get broken in 

from the high I'm getting off this pseudo knowledge

And this is where my 1/3 life crisis begins

I want to eat and be eaten by them

I want to explore and discover men like promise lands

I want to possess and be possessed

And all that sounds great

Problem is that age and, consequently, experience (blah)

Has brought this extremely high standard 

As if there were no men perfect enough for my imperfections

He's not smart enough

He's not handsome enough

He doesn't like his job

He's not creative

He's too artsy

He doesn't have a twisted sense of humor

He jokes too much

He's too proper

He is not philosophical enough

He's too trashy

He's too trendy

He dresses badly

He's too metro

He's not cultured enough

He's a snob

He's not sexual enough

His kiss is not my kind

He's too sloppy

He's not bad ass enough

He's just a bad ass and nothing more

He's not affectionate

He's too into me

He's not into me enough 

There’s always a red flag to be found not allowing me to fall enough to at least get some ass out of it, I mean dick. It's been almost a year or so since I’ve had fallen for one, and it's not like I'm looking for a boyfriend, or maybe I am and I'm just too cynical to accept my own romanticism. 

Paul has warned me, I still insist on acting on a mindset that no longer matches my level of maturity. I keep denying I’ve grown up. I try to fool my brain, but my body stops me. I don't even get wet anymore, and, I mean, I'm attracted to the men I go out on dates, but not enough to take it to the next level.

 

I went on a road trip full of porn fantasies excited to turn my masturbation dreams into action. There he was, hot and available, eager to jump all over me. I couldn't even get a hard on, and by that I mean myself. He, on the other hand, stayed hard all weekend. I didn't even try, one thing there is no way I can do is the charity fuck (not anymore). 

I got back from the road trip not only hornier, but with frustration added to the hot pot. So what now, am I waiting for the right guy, even if just thinking about this kind of bourgeois mentality makes me puke a bit in my mouth? Am I the suburban princess with marriage dreams? Have I been brainwashed?

 

I got a fuck buddy. A man who serves me whenever I feel the need. He's as hot as it gets, lives nearby, one call away. In fact, I heard something about him the other day that made him even hotter — apparently, every vanity girl in the industry has been trying to get under his pants, so far, no one has won the trophy. I’m secretly the lucky one, although I treat him solely as the obscure object of my desire. Yes, yes, I must admit, I considered him for the boyfriend post for a second, but he was quickly demoted to the boytoy level since I’d given him a chance and he didn't managed it well.

Back to fuck buddy basis: he walks in the door with entrée and dessert. We drink wine at my little dinner table and laugh under dim lights. He washes the dishes and immediately gets naked in one smooth move, all his clothing falling off in a matter of seconds. I find it endearing. He stands bare in my living room with a bright smile and emerald eyes full of tenderness. It makes me love him for the time being. I take him by the hand and lead him to the slaughterhouse. We spoon and watch a few episodes of Family Guy. making out while still paying attention to the TV show, long kisses interrupted by laughter. We eventually get lost in our bodies, turn off the TV and fuck for a while. It used to take longer. He couldn't cum for a while We eventually figured out that Planned Parenthood condoms sucked, with the new upgraded Whole Foods Japanese condoms we are done in half hour or so. 

I used to have more fun with him, it's now finally getting old. His ripped body has been looking dull to my predator eyes, his smile doesn't soften me as much anymore. I guess, back when I considered him as a potential boyfriend it had more to it. I used to feel a buzz around him, now it's just a hard dick who kisses really well and comes with a smoking body, a delicious laughter too, he does have a very sweet child-like streak. See, when I put down on paper, he's great, everything I could ask for, but I just don't get the thrill from him anymore.

We used to spoon, but lately I've been only forking him.

Farewell

I spotted him first thing in the morning. I approached him randomly about some parking matter and we simultaneously had that split second that runs for what seems to be hours, when you first look into someone's eyes that you can feel there is a storm brewing your way.

The five day traveling job suddenly became exciting, and it was still 4am into a foggy first day of shooting.

Initially, I ditched the dirty thoughts with reasonable explanations to my reservations about dating coworkers. I avoided looking. I kept myself busy. I noticed him again. And again and again and again. He would seat right next to me and look straight into my face and chuckle while asking me something. I was trying to focus on the job. I tried to be short on my answers and not look at him too much. I looked.

He was gorgeous. He had taken out the beanie and the jacket since we're inside the location, by that point. His jaws had a strong square angle and his puffy lips hugged his almost childish smile. His teeth were slightly crooked, what made him even more endearing. His scruffy dirty-blond beard looked so soft it begged to be rubbed against my lips and his emerald eyes pierced through my thoughts. He was stunning. Every muscle of his body was the right size; his posture neared a Greek God. He did have his share of Greek. He was Croatian, from a far far away Island of the Adriatic Sea. He was built and tall, and genuine and somehow even pure. He was a grown ass man. A men's man, malicious and flirtatious; tender and dangerous. He was enigma.

I needed to hear him. I needed to get to know him and look out for every red flag I could find to excuse myself from falling into another precocious relationship.

We ran into each other at a convenience store after work. He tried to scare me from behind an isle but all he could get was a huge smile popping out of my face. There was no way out. This train was bound to glory.

We kissed that night. I've run into a different coworker at the hotel elevator after the convenience store encounter and ended up heading to the room everyone was hanging out. Soon, I came to find out that the room belonged to my Greek Statue. He came out of the shower in towel and stopped for a second startled that I was right there hanging out in his room. He chuckled. He had that "you know what I'm thinking" look, I'm pretty sure I had it too.

Everyone eventually left, and as predictable as it gets, in about ten minutes we are all over each other. I liked being under his body weight; I liked his kiss, his taste, his smile. I decided to head to my room before it got out of hand, just so I could save some anticipation for later. I didn't want to have it too easy; I didn't want to lose my curiosity that quick, not with him.

The job went as well as it could get, even though we went through some heavy rain and even hail, all it mattered was that he was always close by to inspire my naughty thoughts.

Every spare moment it was all about watching him work
Him carrying his Art Department heavy shit around
Him with a screw gun or a chainsaw working on wood projects
Him driving that 5 ton monster truck like a Mini
Everything so small compared to his scale of man power

His masculinity intimidated me
And that couldn't be more of a turn on
I've never expected to get wet watching a man chew and spit tobacco
He made me. Again and again and again
His voice on the radio
His interaction with his coworkers
His way of just being
Everything about that man was a massive turn on to me

So it comes out that he's my neighbor
No, seriously, blocks away kind of neighbor
Which makes it that much easier to turn it into a weekly basis thing
Escalating to a many times a week kind of deal

We have fun
We ran together
We had brunches in cool cafes
And dinners we cooked for hours and hours
We love desserts and we were always hunting for a new one
We watched Seinfeld and Family Guy like we had never watched it without each other

We traveled separately
And missed each other like crazy
But we shared that with each other very subtly

We fell for each other but we played it
We longed the same things but we hid it
We wanted more but none of us brought it up
We secretly knew it
But we were too cool to be the first one to give it away

Then our time expired
The games and the lack of sincerity ripped us apart
We built a dull routine
Of no first-hand answered calls and late callbacks
We became unavailable and cynical
Eventually, all that was left was the reminisce of what it could have been

It's too late
We both know
We don't want to let it go
We don't want to let it go
We still see each other

It's been almost six months
It's been too long
I now want to let it go
I still have fun being around him
But it's not enough anymore

So long, farewell, Auf Wiedersehen, Goodbye

BOYS

He is trying to impress me. I can tell by his always halfway-open eyelids reinforcing his cocky way of letting the words come out of his mouth; it is all part of his mating technique.

He knows from the start he can’t actually ever have me, so he avoids, as best as he can, wanting me. Still, I can see through the smoke he insists on blowing; he wants me. Or at least, he wants me to want him. I have fun watching him playing me. He complains about my proximity but keeps himself around at every possible occasion. He disdains out loud the things he is secretly compelled about me. He stares when I’m not looking. I’m looking. I make him nervous; he moves faster when I’m around and often makes clumsy moves.

I enjoy the twisted power I have over him. I let him believe he owns me. I almost wish I were into him just so I could fall into his amateur trap and fulfill his macho fantasies. I wish I could build him, but I’ve been over that “saving men” part of my life for a while. I’m not into him, but I like being the obscure object of his desire. It takes me back to my younger days when men were admittedly boys and I was naive enough to believe I was smart enough…just like now. We never are smart enough.

He throws angry elaborated sentences out in the air totally uncalled for. He moves things around in the truck and shifts his balls from side to side consistently. He lights a cigarette intensely and blows the smoke slowly, looking into nowhere. He’s choosing his moves. He feels rough. He busts out a blazé attitude not convincing enough to overshadow his concealed enthusiasm. He asks things about me indirectly and every comment I make echoes in his brain; he keeps bringing them back.

He picks up a six-steps ladder from the gate of the truck and throws over his left shoulder in a quick move; the lit cigarette is mounted on the side of his mouth, smoke coming through the other side straight into one of his eyes, which is now squinting. He holds the ladder with his left hand, squeezing the cigarette between his right hand index and middle fingers while pulling it away from his lips. He rearranges the ladder on his shoulder and about two inches of his midriff sneaks out of the shirt. I can see his pubic hair running up into his abs. I keep checking him out through his whole train of actions. I know he knows I’m watching. I allow him to know. I like feeding him.

- I’m used to this kind of shit…

- Showing off to chicks?

- Caring ladders.

- Fireman?

- ACs installations, had to carry a lot of heavy crap.

- Oh, wow… – I chuckle within.

- Yep... I’m a cop though…I mean, I could have been.

- How did you end up on a movie set?

- I went to the Police Academy, you know. - The words "Police academy" announced in surround sound - I did it for over six months… I almost finished...three months and I could have been done.

He starts carrying the ladder away to set, and right before disappearing
behind the working trucks he shouts:

- And I was a Boy Scout too!

Intuition

You got to trust your body
To pay attention to the things you know
Even before you're able to understand them

You must follow your gut
That tight knot in your core
Squeezing all you insist to convince yourself
That is too early to believe

It's within
It's right here
Listen to it

Road Trip

Lets go to a Hotel
Fuck
Hike
And eat well

Backdrop

So I'm here staring at a set being built, watching the process of prepping a project and thinking about our process, our project.

First, I must say, it feels so good to have you as the backdrop of my days. You are always around my thoughts, constantly intruding the live animated foreground of these singular scenarios I float around. You reside in my brain, dancing through the seven holes on my head, swimming freely through my currents.

Still, I'm once again, a bit uneasy about your up coming visit. Never worrying about if things go well, but dreading the possibility of lacking chemistry. It's almost like I'm resting on the taste of you in my mouth, so pleased with the idea of watering this garden of giant sunflowers, that just considering the idea of looking at you and not clicking into all my perverted thoughts makes me cling. Chemistry does hit right away.

There is a lot to do with life baggage and past experiences; it has to do with opening my vulnerability and investing my heart into someone that I don't even know how it feels being around. And honestly, it has a lot to do with the longing for sexual compatibility - which is major- , because a friendship is obviously already here.

I'm afraid of picking you up at the airport and wanting to run the other way and not knowing how to walk away, if that's the case, without creating an awkward situation.

Jeez, I feel silly for over thinking, and I'd love to freeze these fearful thoughts into ice cubes, but I guess it's natural to hesitate due to the circumstances.

There is much I haven't told you and time will come to share those thingies, only then you may finally grasp where all these cloudy feelings are coming from. In the mean time I'll keep welcoming you into my sea.

Let it be!

Long Distance

Seating aside, picturing me and you laying in bed, getting lost into each other's eyes; me and you just learning each other's tides, gently peeling our layers.

I'm here yearning the texture of your touch; the sound of your laughter rippling through my ears, the taste of your tongue in my mouth.
I've been wondering how warm is your kiss.

I feel that certain rawness of an infatuated soul. Getting truly involved requires vulnerability. I've been drunk of you.

In my brain I save vivid portraits of your expressions, mannerisms, your ways of being you. I think about you floating around your world, riding your bike through rails, walking up the hills, talking to your peeps, focused in your classes. I wonder what color shirt you're wearing, how does your jeans seats into your legs and hips, what kind of shoes are hugging your feet.

30 more hours until I duck dive into your arms.

Preceeding Love

What if I could free myself from the longing for love
And if I first, could truly look within
Taking care of the present I have facing me

What if I could focus on the things I already have
And the qualities I want to improve

I want to be the best I can be

Read more
Write more
Create more
Run bigger mountains
Swim with the current

I want to be a more dedicated worker
And allow myself to learn everyday

I want to forget routine and an tired eye
I want to see everyday for the first time
Paying more attention to the sun
To the people around me
To this world that reveals more and more of itself every second

I want to sing along
And transform every bad feeling into flower or production
I want to use every neuron of my brain and every muscle in my body
I want to be useful
And sincere

I want to never stop
Never get tired

I want to forget rules and conventions
And live my own path

I want to be independent but tender
Strong but vulnerable
Tough but fragile

I want to be enigma
Morphing every day
Transforming
Transcending into the best of me

Great Love

Longing a great love
Longing that feeling of devastation
Yellow butterflies flying around my stomach

I want to love
I want to love and let go
And be one but also two
I want to be his accomplice
His partner in love and crime
His woman

I want passion and dreams
Sweat and tears
Pleasure and laughter
I want his taste in my mouth

I want to live together
To grow together
To one day have little ones

I want to improve and inspire each other
To be there for each other
To never forget individuality

I want to have my life
But also a life of two

I want to know his smell from miles away
And lose myself in our sex
I want to be passionate
Affectionate

I want to be the apple of his eye
To have the chills just thinking about him
To French kiss him for hours and hours

I want to share my last piece
And nurture him when needed
I want to accept his flaws
I want to earn him

I'm ready for a great love

Recomeço mais uma vez
Tudo de novo
Nada de novo
HUmildade escarrada em meu rosto
Andar para trás para andar para frente

Otimismo fundamental
Tenho que ser positiva

Começar de novo
Mais uma vez

Mind Game

Same planet
Different ground
We still share the same moon
Even though different stars align our skies

Weird dynamic this long distance thing has
The lack of communication brings drowning consequences
If we don't talk for a day
Or if it's just petty talk with no love
It feels really ordinary
And I slowly drift away from it afterward

What is left is a feeling only nurtured by memories
By the day, they turn more and more yellow
The drawer where you reside gets dustier
The voice on the phone gets less familiar

We've been lacking romance
Sometimes it feels like an old friend
That I keep insisting not to forget

I don't want one more friend
I don't want a mild relationship simply to take away my heart

There is no longing for someone just to fulfill that space
Someone to bottle up my sexuality and love
And take no sips out of it

The joy becomes questions
The certainty melts into thousands of little wonders
And I begin to ask myself what am I doing

It's that recurrent thought that keeps coming back when there is no excitement
Why am I holding on to so little?

When this all feels just ordinary
I end up trying to relive the days we shared
To refresh the way I felt with you
I keep trying to remember how you feel against my skin
How you taste
How you smell

I could bear not knowing your smell anymore
Even not being able to draw your face in my eyes
But I can't bear lacking on excitement
I don't want to become oblivious

You become a distant voice through the phone cord
Unrevealed words on my phone screen
An electronic reminiscence of the man I chose to see

What's the point
Better just uncommit
And let it be

Cultural Influence

Aging has been changing my character profoundly
There is a new "giving" side of me rising

lately I started this thing of voluntarily helping random people
Despite of my up-bringing by a proudly politically incorrect dad
With his remarkable statements such as "nothing worst than doing favors"
I've been very surprised by my change of behavior

It'd be ok if it was only that one single case of helping wasted Britney Spears puke in a Hollywood bar
I know, I know! She is still a human being though...I had to
But anyway, this past Friday I caught myself literally car chasing a thug that had just mugged and old man which I'd probably never be able to find again

I'm serious

I was coming out of a parking garage
Out of the blue, I saw a man running out of The Grove letting stuff fall from underneath his shirt
Security was all over the place running after him
And a shocked well dressed old man checking his pockets hopelessly

I couldn't believe I was the only one actually with the sight of the thief
And even though I was doing an important run for work with very limited time
I surprisingly decided to put my tasks aside
And go catch the bad wolf

After driving through narrow alleys
Doing all kinds of illegal turns
While relating every detail to 911
Which - weirdly enough - advised me to keep chasing him
Despite the fact that I am just an ordinary civilian
Unarmed and alone
And we had no idea of how dangerous he might be

After watching him changing clothes while running
And eventually noticing me
The crazy girl in the little Civic
Following him like a mad cow
After telling 911 that I eventually would have to give up
And move on with my daily tasks
And being intensively advised not to stop the chase
I finally see a cop car
Which I repeatedly try to stop while they pretended not to see me

Eventually I had to jump out of my car and run after the cops
While I potentially could have had lost sight of my dear thug
I was then told by them that they couldn't help me

"But wait, there he is, see, can you guys please just catch him, he's 20 feet way"
"Are you still with 911 on the phone?"
"Yes Sir, They told me to chase him while waiting for you guys"
"Well, you're doing a great job, just make sure you keep chasing him and don't hang up with 911. We can't help you, but have a nice day"

And just like that, the so-called heroes drove away with no qualms
Eating their sugary donuts
laughing at the funny immigrant
that probably inspired by her border crossing skills
Was now running after the bad guys

They left their task to me
Just like I was the one supposed to serve and protect
To drop my ordinary life
And spend my Friday afternoon catching a thief with my bare hands

I was shocked
I sat back in my driver seat
Watching my beloved friend drift away into the streets of Hollywood
With what was left of the old man's belongings under his shirt
While I felt so important and impotent at the same time

I began wondering since when this Hero conduct
Started building inside me
And more importantly
Why???

Coming from a 3rd world country
Watching violence through my little eyes since early age
Having been mugged at gun point several times
Car jacked,kidnapped and all the violence one can think of
Having always behaved like a fragile and friendly victim
I was very surprised with my gut reaction

It felt that being in US
Having safety as one of the biggest reasons
That I feel better here than in Rio
I felt like I couldn't allow impunity
To shatter my "American-way-of-life"

Perhaps, since living in such a citizen-oriented culture
Where people actually respect each others rights
And impunity doesn't work as well as in Brazil
Perhaps, I've been becoming more caring

I now let cars pass in front of me even though they are skipping the whole line
I respect the majority of the traffic rules
Even not crossing a red stop light at 4 in the morning
I don't honk
I tell a random peasant that a $100 fell from his pocket
I think twice before having some PDA
I give 25% tips
I cordially say "Hi, how are you?" to people I don't know
I say "excuse-me" and "thank you" for any given reason
I don't bump into people while walking on the street
I actually respect the arm-length rule of personal space
I even helped and old lady cross a busy street the other day
Strange, man
So unlikely coming from my sly/only-care-for-your-ass cultural background

Here I am, voluntarily becoming an exemplary citizen
What the fuck?
I can hear my dad saying
"Are you trying to be on the News????"

Sorry dad, I'll try not to disappoint you too much

Cresci
Amadureci
Mudei

Não tenho mais tempo para desperdício
Para joguinho
Palhaçada

Sou mulher para caralho
Pacote completo
Cheia de possibilidades
Flexível

Mas não me empurra
Não se faz de desavisado
E não tente me confundir

Não sou de meio termo
Mais ou Menos não vale a pena

Quero tudo ou nada
Então sai do muro
Fode ou sai de cima
A fila anda

Vai se fazer de gostoso
Vai sobrar a pangarezada de audiência
Eu pulo fora rapidinho

Quando menos viu
Cadê Teresa?

Que pena

Pet Phones

Weird relationships people establish with their phones

The other day I woke up and my phone was pitch-black,
unworkable and seemly un-fixable
I desperately tried to turn it off and on
I took the battery out and put it back in
I connected to my car charger
I watch the little red light go on - hopehopehope
And immediately off

Heavy dark-grayed clouds stormed over my little spot on the freeway

I felt my whole world falling down into a gray blurry
I wondered if the boy-toys called twenty five times even though it wasn't even weekend
I wondered how many work calls I missed
How many e-mails I wouldn't know I got until I get to the office in 20 endless minutes
What if something happened to my family in Brazil
What if I get into an accident, how am I going to call someone????
I felt an immediate urge to call all my friends
Acquaintances
All the people I haven't talked in years were now suddenly a necessity to be reached

I felt lonely in my car
Unreachable
I got stressed out

After many frustrated costumer service calls and all kinds of different procedures to follow
After listening to the hideous automatic voice giving me every option I don't want
and listening to old kylle Minogue electronically singing badly out of my lousy speakers
After even contemplating sending the broken-english representative to hell
I decided to plug my phone charger into the wall outlet as a last try
Just because I had to know I done it all under my power

At first it tricked me for a second
The light went on and off again as the first time
I got so disappointed that I left right there
Connected to the outlet
Simply having given up
And all of a sudden
No shit
There it was the bright and shinny little fucker ironically smiling at me
Perfectly functioning

I realized that I'm so obsessed on having it handy that over the whole year that I've had this particular crack-berry I'd never let it completely run out of battery
It was the first time that my phone ever died

I then realized that
I feed it better than I water my plants
I maintain it better than my shaving schedule
I sleep with it right next to my head
Hoping to sleep deep enough not to wake up with its notifications
And it's the first thing I look at when I open my eye in the morning
(Am I lacking a romantic relationship in my life???)
It's better taken care of than my ex-boyfriend's cats
It's more valuable than my wallet (really????)

I can hear from miles away the first vibrations before the ring comes out
Excitement pumping my chest
Who is it?
Who could it be?
Sudden hope of don't know what

I get the news
I share my pics
I e-mail my dad in Brazil
I sex-text the loved one
I check my calendar and say no to jobs I want
I play video games waiting for my Starbucks
I conference call/Video call/Ichat/Mapquest/save passwords/set alarms/file people's personal info/Google anything I can think of
I live through this little technological brick on my hands

Walking around tinseltown I watch random people speaking out loud to no one
Too involved in their blue-tooth conversations
Lost with all the different voices in their heads
Having their calls dropped
Three people on call-wait
E-mails running into text messages into peoples messages into live people words
Bombs over Bagdah in their ears
Every little sound coming out of it announcing possibilities
All through that tiny hole
All at once


I spend more time on my phone than with anyone else
Fucking modernity
So connected to people's gadgets
So far from their live presences



P.S.: How ironic life is, guess which job I'm working while I write this: Iphone...

A job went away

Reciclagem
Mudança
Transição

Corrente estagnada atrás de pedregulho

Não é verdade!
Perspectiva é a alma do comportamento

Oportunidade que vai para nova porta poder abrir
Cada chave uma decisão

Faz da merda adubo
Encara problema com solução
Entende que da crise vem a oportunidade
O crescimento

Respeita a calmaria
Aguenta a instabilidade

Poupe
Seja sensata com dinheiro
Aprende!

You

In my chest
all at once
Revolution

Two souls evolving into phenomenon
Every particle in communion by osmoses
Together we are empowered

You full moon changing my tide
Sterling ocean-blue eyes shining my brain's sky
Pipeline wave pleasantly breaking into every grain of my sand ground

You massive earthquake
Endless aftermath

Your voice Bossa Nova in my ears
Each syllable smoothly resonating through my cells
Jazz Sax playing in my soul

Our rivers merge into an ocean
Disregarding edges
Unforgiving limits

Too early for expectations, plans, ideas
Great just because of the intensity of such an easy feeling
Disregarding agendas and possibilities
Forgetting distance and realities

It doesn't matter tomorrow
Either any possible prospect

I feed you in me just for the sake of your taste in my tongue
I write you now just because i enjoy you swimming through my mind

I'm not scared either anxious
I'm just desiring you for the pleasure that comes with it
Desire that immediately becomes production

And if tomorrow we don't see each other anymore
If life draws us separate paths
It worthed enough for me to feel all this to the point of
Inevitably shoving these words into a blank paper

I write you because it wasn't enough keeping this golden storm in my body
I'm writing simply because I have to

Namorar Melhor

Chega de repetição
Quero fazer tudo diferente
Cansei dos mesmos ciclos

Quero amor duradouro
que chega para ficar
to exausta de enjoar, cansar, desanimar

Quero aprender a alimentar mais amor menos paixão
Crescer juntos coisa e tal
gerar história
construir estrutura
Compartilhar a vida

Quero namoro para anos
para vida
Quero tesão que não vai embora
Cansei de infinito enquanto dure

Quero amar muito
Ser cúmplice
Parceria
Quero admirar meu amor
Amá-lo
Nos inspirarmos um ao outro

Quero aprender a me comprometer melhor
A aceitar
A sobreviver o difícil

Cansei do "homem do ano"
Do homem da hora

Cansei de descartar
Jogar para o alto
Deixar para tráz

Quero reaprender a amar

Fuck Buddie

Somos um para o outro dois putinhos
Nos vendendo nossos corpos
Por prazer promíscuo
Tenho idéia vaga do que reside por baixo da sua superfície
Meus olhos te traduzem em carne fresca

Quero seu gemido e corpo
Quero seu gozo e só
Quero você sem conseqüências
Sem amanhã

Depois de meia noite te vejo abóbora
Te uso
Eu, usufruto do teu prazer

Quero você pelado
Rasgado
Se esfregando no meu corpo suado

Quero você inteiro só por hoje
Sem sobrenome
Sem parentes
Sem história

Quero seu sexo extravasado em perversões
Quero pensar duas vezes antes de dizer teu nome
Quero você sem nome

Te vejo lindo
Dourado
Escaneando da sua altura a mulherada perdida
Te vi lá do outro lado
No pedestal que você constrói toda vez que sai da toca
Se achando o famoso que a carreira condiz

Não quero saber da novela passada
Nem da mulher famosa com que foi casado
Não quero sua glória
Menos ainda sua fama
Só quero teu corpo pelado gritando pelo meu

Não precisa se fazer de inocente
Nem de ser Querido sem ser
Esqueça palavrinhas dobradas
Promessas vazias
Só queremos nossos contornos

Talvez estejamos subestimando um ao outro
Mesmo até estejamos desperdiçando amizade
Saudade
E tudo mais que dois humanos podem acrescentar um ao outro
Pouco me importa

Sei seus motivos
Limito os meus aos mesmos
Não precisamos de caridade
Falsa ternura

Venho procurando um homem objeto há um tempo
Parece bom encaixe

Me pega safado, apertado, me morde
Me devassa e me amassa
Me arregaça em fantasias eróticas

Quero você jogado em minha cama
Sorrindo cansado
Olhos dois diamantes latejados

Somos um para o outro puro fetiche
Pura possibilidade
Seu corpo pesa gostoso sobre o meu

Quero desejo sem necessidade
Sem compromisso
Quero seu beijo por horas sem freio
Sem precisar saber da sua infância

Não me confunda
Estamos no mesmo barco
Queremos a mesma coisa um do outro

Então se deixe
Se largue em meus braços só por hoje
E para o amanhã
Só o que sobra são boas lembranças

The Question

Monday, September 10, 2007 – Immediately after the shock

The Question


I had to ask

He told me there is someone new
Someone that fits better
He said they have more in common
It's an age thing he said
It's too early for him to say he's in love

I was joking when I asked about a new love
He answered yes
My body chocked up in a tight knot
I was kidding
He wasn't
I fought the massive heartbeat with kind words
Not really kind
More like a blazé - far from blazé - inquire
I saw my heart pouring through the seven holes in my head

I had to shut myself

I got utterly curious
I got utterly hurt
I have no right to be hurt
I just wasn't prepared

I'm seating here battling against my brain
Battling to let it go
I stare at all the frivolous work in front of me
Everything looking so secondary
Floating around my table
My brain is everywhere but here

I was still thinking about him
I've wondered if I was still in love
The conflict between reality and potential getting me stuck in the middle

I was in love with the man I saw on him
It wasn't a mistaken idea of who he is
But a very clear notion of the man he hides inside

I got driven away by the waste of that great man
That for so long has been left alone in an old dusty drawer

I couldn't bear not having the best of him
I wasn't settling for the reminiscences of a Viking warrior
Turn into a sad kitten

It's like going black - so they say
Once you go there you can't step back

I wanted to do the best for him
I wanted to be the best for him
It wasn't enough
Perhaps it was too much
It just wasn't right

It's been a long farewell
I haven't gotten completely over
It embarrasses me to admit it
But I haven't

Until now I was still swimming on "ifs"

The other day I watched a movie called Dedication
It turn me inside out
For a second I forgot all the facts
I felt overflowed with an empty hope
It filled me up with wishful thoughts
Since then, I chose to remember the best of us

I remembered him full of himself
That one night he met my friends
He was so freaking well put together
Blue sweater, "Italian pure silk" beige blazer, new jeans…
Tanned
Happy

He was eleven feet tall that night
Golden and self-assured
He stood quiet through dinner but he was transpiring confidence
He was shining
He is brilliant

He was on his peek during those weeks
We were eating out, beaching, taking especial photos
We were even talking about dancing naked

I was so proud to see the improvement
I was so stunned with the new layers
I was so happy with us

I had the best intentions


Suddenly everything became blurry
I didn't see it coming
I couldn't tell what was going inside him
I only learned it when it was all already blocked
It was all already gone
I tried every way I could

I couldn't take it
I had to leave

I admit I got caught up in the forecast
Everything I felt we were becoming together pushed me in
I was astonished and happy with the You
With the Us I believed we were living
And I pushed it hard without noticing
Too hard
But I refuse to take sole responsibility

The other day, while complimenting an ex-boyfriend that had such great influence in my life, I was told by him that he refused to take the credit
He said

We all influence each other
One chooses to take it positively or negatively


I wanted Erik to be on his best
It felt like I wanted more than he did


Love is not enough

Divino

Quero céu aberto
Sem pirambeira nem murada
De onde posso ver todo hemisfério que carrega meu chão

Vez em quando danço em circúlos desatados de braços abertos brincando com o vento
Fazendo do ar meu namorado mais antigo
Sei então que sou feita da mesma terra do mesmo céu do mesmo ar que respiro
Água corrente que nossos corpos são

De cabeça mergulho em parafusos nesse oceanão azul
Viro água-pedra-peixe
Esqueço dos limites da pele que proteje minha carne
Ignoro minhas fronteiras

Sou fluído divino das mesmas partículas que formam toda matéria
Sou planeta
Somos Universo

Somos todos um só organismo pulsante
Transbordante de dor e alegria amor e guerra luz e escuridão
Somos uma série de eventos afortunados
Um causando no outro e no outro e no outro
Num dominó infinito de afetos e consequências
Desencadeamos um ao outro tempestades e correntezas planetárias

Com isso todo humano é divino
Tudo que constítue esse mundo é por sí só um componente da mesma célula gigante
Dessa misteriosa galáxia
Desse Deus sem forma exata que mora em cada coisinha desse mundão

Venho encontrando o Divino em mim
Deus mora na gente

E me desculpe vovúxa amada
Isso não tem nada haver com religião

Amor Crescido

Amor é comprometimento
Amar é compreender
Readaptar
Aceitar

Hoje amo diferente
Paciência escapoliu do esconderijo
E virou dona do tempo

Amor todo amudurecido
Se amadurecendo

Te amo tranquila
Balanço de rede em praia deserta
Não tem correria de mundo moderno

Amor simples que sabe de si
Que não tem medo de estabilidade
De segurança
De consequência

E todo passado virou paixão sorrateira
Tudo que foi fica meio vazio
Palavra que não cabe no conceito

Venho aprendendo a amar
Nos vejo
E arrepio diferença

Formamos raíz
Regamos
Somos sementes

E cada dia nossos márgens ficam mais amorfas
Somos Um que forma dois indivíduos
Somos dois aprendendo esse Um paralelo
Sou sua
Deixa vir a correnteza

O Mundo é Um Moinho

Fugi para não cometer os mesmos erros
Fui embora sem saber
Nao fiz malas, não me despedi da família
Não olhei para trás desavidada de que não voltava mais

Fiz o melhor para mim sem intenção

Foram anos e anos de força de hábitos
De vida automatizada seguindo caminho que se escreve sozinho
Anos de planos de infância se concretizando
e de manias antigas fincando na pele
Anos de amores insólitos, amizades para vida e realidade dourada
Vida de certezas e segurança
Toalha de seda com franja de algodão

Deixei tudo para trás
Sai sorrateira, quietinha
Vazia de sonhos
Disse tchau sem saber que era Adeus

Até hoje não sei explicar direito como a decisão de não voltar se concretizou
Não sei se foi amor cego
Intenso que quase tortura
Ou sabedoria intrínsica que não se explica quando chega
Não sei como vim parar aqui
Sozinha

Sou tão diferente
Todo dia me aprendendo
Descobrindo esse Eu novo que floresceu

Sou resquício de deslumbre e retrato de garra
Vida aqui é de guerra
Salva-se quem puder
Toalha de algodão com franjinha de seda
Mas mudei para melhor

Olho para trás e acho que a essa altura do compeonato eu estaria cercada de armadilhas que montei pelos anos sem perceber
Vinda do berço de ouro que eu sinto que eu tive
Vivendo a vida em torno de romances
Acomodada com a certeza das minhas possibilidades
Euzona, lá sentada no trono que construi para mim

Hoje vivo em terra da provação
Todo dia é desafio, é sufoco
Correria e insegurança
Mundo estrangeiro
E nesse exato momentp, mais do que nunca estranho
Mas foi minha escolha, e é.
Virou

Agora tomo conta de mim
Construo futuro com suor e lágrima
Choro de saudade
Mas gargalho com a perspectiva de futuro em andamento

Hoje foi um dia difícil
e aqui tô eu
Fragilizada com a minha solidão
E com a batalha diária para provar à que vim
Dia em que quase esqueço
Que na maioria dos outros eu sempre encontro jeito de cantarolar
Dia nublado, assombrado

Quando fico triste assim me convenço de que vale a pena
Reforço cada conquista em minha cabecinha de beija-flor
E prometo para mim que vai ficar tudo bem.

Vai, não vai?

Small Talk

God, I hate small talk with all my heart. All the "hi-how-are-you-fine-thank-you"...Just to think about all the breath wasted on these senseless petty conversations, I'm speechless.

We all know how the weather has been crazy and Bush is unanimously hated; We all think that the elevator is taking too long, and the gas prices have been up in the sky. Still, is it really that awkward to be in silence with your own thoughts when around people that you don't relate to? Is it polite or actually hypocrite to start small talk just because you can't deal with your own emptiness?

I hate all the meaninglessly "good-mornings", "talk-to-you-later", "good-to-see-you" flushed out of dry mouths. I hate when tricked by distraction I catch myself mimicking some kind of that same shallow convention. Human and it's social codes.

I understand that since we're sharing the same planet, we should try our best to interact as amicably as possible. Personally though, I do not see myself as affected by a "good morning, Mam. Thanks for choosing Ralph's" as much as I am affected by the security guy outside that just gives me a good old genuine smile and a head nod. Actions speak more than a thousand words.

If you don't care about the answer, don't ask. If you don't mean it, don't say it.


Nothing worst than running into someone that you haven't seen in a while and you don't really have anything to share but random remarks.

" - Wow, I haven't seen you in so long.
- God, is it you? You look amazing.
- Oh, come on. You look great yourself.
- Thank you, isn't it crazy how the time goes by?
- Don't even go there.
- How have you been?
- Great, and you?
- Fine, everything really good, thanks.
- How is the family?
- Doing very well. Yours?
- Everything fantastic, thank you.
- What have you been up to?
- Not much, same old.
- Me too, still same thing since last time we've seen each other.
- Still leaving at the same place?
- Yes, you?
- No, I moved. It's a long story...
- We need to catch up sometime.
- Totally, lets keep in touch.
- Ok, lets do it.
- Well, good to see you.
- Pleasure seeing you, send my love to your family.
- Will do, and please do the same.
- Hope to see you again soon, girl.
- Me too. Bye now, have a good evening.
- You too, be well."


Come oooooooooooon, you're killing me.

Since you're not really into saying anything and you know the lack of interest is reciprocate, why not just nodding, maybe waving from far and moving on with your life without such a fake display of care. The sad part is that this is actually the kind of conversations we most have on daily basis. How many work calls and random people you have to formally encounter and bullshit for at least a bit to be polite(?) every day?

I hate formality.

Today I was reading this NY Times article about laughter. It claims that it has barely ever anything to do with an intellectual response to something, but a way to display a friendly approval:

"It’s an instinctual survival tool for social animals, not an intellectual response to wit...The brain has ancient wiring to produce laughter so that young animals learn to play with one another. The laughter stimulates euphoria circuits in the brain and also reassures the other animals that they’re playing, not fighting...Primal laughter evolved as a signaling device to highlight readiness for friendly interaction,”

So It's an animal social code with the desperate goal of fitting into a exclusive society. It's a ritual to show acceptance and to be accepted. The lower your status in the hierarchy the more you have to laugh your way up to the top. Pretty much, laugh at the boss's stupid joke and you'll have a better chance of being promoted.

You know, that shot of reality got me really depressed. So all the times I had the best laughter in the world it was mostly because during my early ages I was taught that laughter would buy my way into this world, and not because i was genuinely entertained? I refuse to think that I laugh to, somehow, manipulate the way people see me, instead of being a consequence of something funny.

Fuck it! I now make a vow to only laugh if it unexpectedly pops out of my mouth; To only ask "how-are-you" when I really care about the answer; to only comment on the weather when there is really something to say about it.

Enough FDA (Fake Displays of Affection) for ones life.



Oops, sorry, my boss just came in, had to slip a fake laugh so he wouldn't read into my anger

Set Stuff (work in progress - far from done)

She looked at the map completely confused. New town, new job, foreign language…Man, she was lost. In a mix of fear and excitement she fed thoughts of insecurity and rejection. It was just so new and so far from the last couple of years of random jobs and random people in her new instable life abroad.

The call sheet, time card, however they called that paper in her hands was full of unheard names and titles completely alien to her eyes.

She was curious. She wanted to see the circus working.

She wondered how to dress appropriately for her position, her jeans all seemed too fitting; would a tank top be ok?; Pockets probably would be useful; is the snicker sole thick enough?.

There were just so many questions and with them the fear of no one willing to answer them.

It took her four months going through Craigslist positions and fake resumes, sending over 20 e-mails a day trying to get a intern position on a set and zero responses. Eventually, she finally met some no one that trying to impress her mentioned the PA position. She took it seriously.

Four days later there it was the map and callsheet for the next day shooting. 5am call on New York Street at the Paramount Studios. It all just sounded so glamorous, imagine, her first shoot was already on a historic studio. The place where many of the movies she watched as a youngster with Portuguese subtitles and “hollywooden” images it was now suddenly part of her first day at the office. She felt privileged.

She didn’t sleep her best that night. She kept waking up every forty minutes thinking it was already time to shower. When time had finally come, she jumped out of bed and run into the water enjoying the little yellow and blue butterflies flying in her stomach, she liked it.

Even though she had studied the map the night before it mysteriously looked more complicated at 4:30 in the morning. It was still so dark and all she could think was how cool it would be to be pulled over and be able to say that she was actually going to work even though it was the wee hours. She felt strong and secure and immediately nervous and fearful after… And that’s when she got lost.

It seemed so easy, but somehow she managed to screw it up with a simple wrong left turn. All the streets looked completely new, she had never been in that part of town before. Her heart almost popped out of her mouth on a hiccup, she couldn’t believe she was lost and imminently late for her first day. She felt her stomach groaning, how the fuck could she be hungry at that time in the morning. Yeah, she was definitely lost. She couldn’t drive any longer into nowhere, she had to stop and take a look at her borrowed old ass Thomas Guide. Coffee suddenly sounded great, well, too much to even think about looking for a Starbucks on top of everything. Fuck it, she suddenly stopped in a random corner without blinking her right light. It was already 4:45. Fuck, fuck, fuck, she had to find it. She shuffled the map looking for the right part of the town. She couldn’t be late for her first day, that would really be a big fuck up. He told her he was giving her this chance but she couldn’t disappoint him, he said it twice. I mean, especially her, all her watches were 27 minutes ahead, she was always so particular about being punctual. I know, she was just “unique” like that, so to speak. Thomas Guide under the car center light really wasn’t that helpful. She thought she figured out, she got back in the road. The closer to the location the more her hiccups would gag into each other. She was panicking a little and there they were the yellow signs. Her friend told her about them. When closer to location they would start guiding the lost early birds, or the lazy ones. There they were flashing food/work/fear/strangers/challenge AAAAAAhhhhhhh.

The security guard directed her to a specific parking spot. She turned of the engine, looked around, saw a line already forming by a catering truck. There was a long path of normal-sized and humongous trucks by the sidewalk being downloaded by mostly man. It was too early for faces. She simply had no idea where to go. She took a deep sigh and stepped out of the car. There she was, at fake New York Street, with all the mail boxes, fire extinguishers and trash cans Props just like the real ones. For the first time she could see that most of the “Soho” buildings were shallow. She started walking up the street through Upper East Side and It’s posh three stories building, so charming. She was stunned and stoked. Deal with it or deal with it. She walked to a truck and asked where to find Steve. He walked behind her and gave her a hug. She shrugged. She pulled him aside.
- You got to tell me, someone will explain me what to do, right? I mean, I really have no idea where to go.
- Calm down, you’ll be ok. There is no mystery and no special skills but being aware of what’s been said on the Walkie at all times and make yourself as much available as you can. Watch and learn, girl. Good luck, haha.
- No, hold on, that’s it? Ok, my Walkie he said, my Walkie…Where the fuck do I get a walkie?

He turns around and points the Production Cube from far. She walks to the four guys standing by a desk in front of the truck. They are labeling radios. She sees someone coming and asking for a Radio. She waits and walks in. She introduces herself, they asked her name twice. They laugh and make a joke that she is too nervous to understand. She gives them a yellow smile and asks for a Radio - foreign object one more time. They hand her one with her name spelled completely wrong. Which button is what? Channels, headsets, radio terms??? Ok, she was going to be ok.
She walked to the catering truck line and stood quiet listening to two rough looking guys complaining. She wondered how old all that routine felt to them.

Breakfast was amazing. She couldn’t get over the fact that she could order whatever she wanted, I mean, from pancakes, to sandwiches, burritos, eggs any style you could put together, all for free, I mean, and no one told her anything about that.

The day was looking good. She sat on a table where four other guys were sitting.

- Is anyone sitting here?
- You – they all say simultaneously
- Thanks.
- What do you do here, honey.
She swallow the “honey” a little dry. Ok, she’s getting how it works.
- I’m a PA.
- I bet you are.

Someone says something on the Radio, she uses it as a “Q” to run away from that table. She finishes her egg-whites omelet standing up behind the production truck. Everyone is running around. The overly ripe bald guy, with a beer gut and a face of yesterday was Hank the key PA, she overheard. He’s downloading stuff from the truck, she asks to help and he just starts handing her stuff without even looking at her. She felt she wasn’t that welcome. A lot of chairs, tables, fans, boards, small generators and trash cans sit outside the truck by the driveway. It takes them about 25 minutes.

- So where do we take this stuff to?
- Is it you first day Sheka?
- Well, my name is Chica, and yes, it is my first day.
- Oh great...

She stands quiet.

- It’s gonna be a long day.
- I’m a fast learner.
- They all say that.

She gets quietly embarrassed, she doesn’t want to be a burden, but I mean, everyone starts somewhere, right? She started getting really nervous and insecure. Someone touched her arm.

- Hi there, I’m Patrick.
- Hey, I’m Chica. Sorry for being unexperienced. - He pulls her aside.
- Oh no, sorry about Hank. With time you’ll be able to tell right away the grumpy burnt out PAs, he’s been doing this for way too long.
- Why he haven’t moved up.
- Exaaactly! It’s a long story, you’ll see. So, I overheard it’s your first day. I can help you if you’d like.
- Are you serious? Oh God! Pleeease, I mean, you can totally tell me to shut up if I ask too many questions. Thank you so much Patrick.
- No worries.
- Where do we start?
- Well, first thing we do in the morning is talk to the 1st AD about where does he want to set up Village, Crafty and director’s monitor.
- 1st AD?
- Yeah, Assistant of the Director, he overlooks the whole set and it's pretty much the one we most respond to.
- K. – She had no idea what a 1st AD job breaks down to, but anyway.
She follows him around. He stops by this “buttoned shirt” tall guy that smells authority.
- Hey Scott, good to see you man.
- Patrick my friend, I’m glad you’re here. I know whom to go to if I need anything. At least one solid PA on set.
- Yes, you do, my man. Yes, you do. So, what’s scoop? Where is the first shot?
- We’ll be doing a tight on the hero-guy over the hero-girl shoulder. Camera will be by the north-east corner of the intersection on the tecno-crane.

"Ok, hero-guy, hero-girl…tight over the shoulder, tecno-crane, I’ll get it, it’s ok."

- So camera will be looking this way. Director’s monitor will be right here and village by the flower shop. We got to make sure we put them as far as possible from Enda. He hates agency people. I don’t want either village either monitor to get too comfortable, so keep it minimal because we’re moving around the whole day.

Wow, he was definitely speaking German. Scott says yes to something on the Radio that she didn’t have focus enough to hear. Nothing made sense to her, she felt really dumb.
- And you are…?
- Hi, sorry about that, I’m Chica. It’s my first day, but I’ll try my best to be here for you.
- Uh, a fresh rookie hun, fun! Welcome to the circus. I’ll be nice to you. Don’t worry.
- Thank you, Scott. – She felt shy like never before.

Patrick starts walking. She follows him.

- We need 4 talls, 4 shorts director’s chairs for village and three talls for directors monitor. Oh, by the way, Village is where the Ad Agency and the client sit and watch the footage that is being shot through a VTR monitor. Director’s monitor always has the director plus script supervisor and sometimes producer sitting by it. With that we should also stage by it, trashcans, butt-cans, and sometimes a table for agency if we decide to be nice. Since they’ll be outside, we should also put a pop-up for the bastards, before they request one.

“The bastards” were obviously Agency and client. She had a hard time seeing them that way since her Major was creative direction. If she was in Brazil, she would be sitting by village now, but she wasn’t.

They hurried to the truck, got part of the stuff they need and headed back to set.

They would need a couple of trips back and forth

- Morning and wrapping are the tough times. – He said unwrapping chairs - That’s when you really need to bust your ass to get things done, it gets a lot easier once everything is set up
- How many PAs do we have today?
- Don’t know, probably 6 or 7, but you’ll soon learn that for every 5 PAs’ crew maybe 3 will be really working.
- Oh, that’s exciting.
- Isn’t it? Well, that’s the thing about PAing, you decide how hard of a worker you want to be. I mean, just like any job right, you choose how you portrait yourself.
- Wise words, my friend. You don’t understand how glad I am that you’re here.
- Don’t get too excited. I may slack through out the day. You just got me on a good mood. Besides, come on, you’re not only cute but also Brazilian, I’ll be dumb not to ally to you.
- Oh, ok. Thanks anyway – That sounded sleazy, She knew that’d be a trade, good luck my friend. Anyhow, She had to make the best of it.

They set up the chairs. She watches his motions and mimics everything he does. He is quick and the equipment is heavy. She doesn’t want to seem fragile. She carries as much stuff as he does.

The sun is finally starting to come out. Faces are now more seenable. Jesus, there is a lot of people for one simple commercial. New York Street looks even more glamorous with the sun shining on the windows and all the equipment that is now set on the street. She took a second to stare at that new world. She felt important. She wanted to call family and friends and scream her excitement away.

- “Any available PA?” - Her Radio yelled.
She pressed every button – “I’m available, I’m available” –
- “Anyone copy me? Come on guys, I need an available PA on set” - Patrick showed the right button to hold.
- Hold it for a second and then start speaking as clearly as you can.
- K, thanks. – She pushes the button trembling- I’m available, where do you need me?
- Let me guess, is this Chica, isn’t it? – It had to be Scott.
- Yes, sir.
- Ok, girl, come see me on set.
- Say “10-4” – Patrick said smiling.
- “10-4” – she says on the radio proudly.

She runs to set shaking and stops aside Scott that is currently speaking with someone. He doesn’t seem to acknowledge her. He keeps his conversation going. She doesn’t know if she should show herself to him or simply wait. How urgent was the request. How should she approach this matter?

“Any available PAs” – Her radio is shouting again,. Hold on, so someone else can ask for PAs besides the 1st AD, ok, ok. But is she available or should she wait until she’s able to finally speak with Scott? She stresses for a second. He sees her desperation.

- Go ahead, you can answer that. All I need is a putt-putt for Crafty. You can get it after you answer this on going request.
- Ok – Putt-putt, great! Whatever that means - she presses the radio button - "Chica is available, where do you need me?”
- “Come see me at Production”

“See me” who? Do these people ever use names? And “see me at production…”, so should I know where is production. She Runs to the production truck still thinking about the freaking putt-putt. "I can’t forget it, I can’t forget it."

- Anyone called for a PA in Production?
- Yeah – Hank says – at PRODUCTION though.
- Yeah, so here I am.
- Production means PRO-DUC-TION, where the PM and coordinator stay.

She looks at him blankly.

- Oh, wow! Jesus Christ, Fucking rookies, man!

She starts to blush.

- See that MoHo there, that big fucking brown trailer. – He points at an RV – That’s also known as production Motor Home, sweetheart. Aka MOHO! Get it?
- Oh, ok, thank you very much.

She runs away fuming, wanting to punch his face, She hasn’t felt that dumb in a long long time. She has no time to over-react.
She knocks on the MoHo door before walking in. She overhears “Who the hell is knocking? That’s hilarious!”. She walks in head down. There are about six people inside that seemed like they stopped their actions to stare at her. She mumbles:

- Did anyone ask for an available PA?
- I’m sorry, Honey, speak out please. – A well dressed girl says.
- Come on, Andrea. Be nice. What do you need, Chica? – Steve says.
- Someone asked for an available PA on the Radio a little bit ago.
- Not me. – Andrea, the bitch sitting by the counter with a computer staring at her says.
- Me either – Steve smiles
She looks lost. Who the hell asked for a PA here?
- Chica, it’s always good to know whom you’re speaking with on the Radio, you know. It’s ok to ask.
- Yeah, I guess I’m learning the hard way. – She said shamefully.
- Go back to whatever you were doing prior. Don’t worry.

Oh, really? Ok, I guess following up is not a big deal, off to the putt-putt. She jumps out of the MoHo thinking about the putt-putt. Where the hell is Patrick???

- “Where the hell is the PA that was meeting me at production?” - Her Radio shouts.
- I’m running back to the MoHo, sir. Whom am I speaking with, please?
- “This is Ethan, 2nd AD. No need to meet me just go to two, please.”

“Go to two????” Holy crap, what does that mean???

- “Hello, anyone there? Can you go to two, please?” – The Radio is going off.
- No problem Ethan, but how do I do that? – She says scared as hell of the answer.
- “Excuse me? What do you mean how do you go to two? Who is that?”
- “Hey Ethan. Patrick here, sorry about that, we have a rookie PA on set today. What do you need?”

Someone makes sure a loud laughter is well heard through the Radio. Mother fucker! Great! Now EVERYONE knows I’m fucking it up. She knew Patrick would come to save the day, but she was just embarrassed and overwhelmed with her performance. She missed whatever Ethan said he needed. She was pretty sure Patrick would handle it without her “great’ help at that point. She sighed.

Oh, no. She had to figure out the “putt-putt to crafty” situation. How exciting to deal with Hank again… She runs to the truck when someone yells:

- Pace yourself, crazy girl.

“Pace myself? What is this random whoever talking about? "I wish you were on my skin, jackass.” She sees Hank sitting on the truck gate calmly smoking a cigarette. She wonders why he isn’t as busy as she is.

- Oh, great. Here she comes. What do you need now?
- A putt-putt for crafty – She shyly says expecting him to come with the solution.

He stands up apparently bothered that she interrupted his quiet cigarette. He goes to the back of the truck and gets a red piece of equipment that looks like a small generator. She is intimidated by the old man, well, he was probably aroound forty but he certainly acted like an bitter old man.

- And yes, this is a putt-putt. – He hands it to her with no more words.

Ok, ok, now all I got to do is find out what is crafty. She runs around looking for Patrick, the putt-putt is kind of heavy and she looks around seeking some kind of “Q”.
- Is this genny for crafty? – Someone says.
- Yes, yes it is. – She smiles relieved
- Oh, you can drop it right here. I was wondering if you guys forgot it. What’s your name?
- I’m Chica, sorry for taking so lo…
- Girl, don’t even worry about it. It’s here now, isn’t it? I’m Karl by the way. Nice to meet you, darling. – He started going through a bunch of boxes obviously too busy for any more chatting.

Ok. What’s next now? She started heading back to set with the hope of finding Patrick. She needed a breather.

- Hey, are you a PA? – A dark haired chubby man pulled her away.
- Yes, sir.
- I’m Ethan, 2nd AD. What’s your name?
- Nice meeting you, I’m Chica.
- Oh, you are the rookie.
- Yes, sir.
- Don’t be so uptight, Sheka. You can call me Ethan.
- Ok.
- Hey, can you get breakfast orders from my talent, please?
- Sure, Ethan.
- Do you know how to do it?
- Not really, but I’ll figure out. – She starts walking away to “figure out”.
- Hold on, hold on. It’s ok. Breath, I’ll explain to you.
- Oh, thank you. That’s very kin…
- Anyway, go to that yellow MoHo there. That’s where Talent will be staying today. Just go around and ask what would they like for breakfast, make sure you write it down who order what, ok?
- Ok, ok. - She starts walking away thinking about the pen and piece of paper that she doesn’t have. Where can I get that? Is it ok to ask for it at production?
- Oh, and hey Sheka, - Ethan shouts - don’t fuck it up.

"Thanks, that really doesn’t adds up any pressure to everything that I already have on my mind." She runs to production and enters the MoHo without knocking this time. She goes to Steve and asks as quietly as she can.

- Is it ok to ask you for a pen and a piece of paper?
- No problem. starts digging through a huge plastic box with drawers and divisions full of supplies – This is my kit, you can get anything you need here.

She smiles gratitude at him.

- But, for future reference, there are a couple of things that you should always carry with you as a PA.
- Oh, ok.
- You should always have a pen, a sharpie, a call-sheet – so you can identify whom you’ve just spoke with – also, gloves always help when you are carrying heavy equipment. Now, if you want to be a pro, then you should have a head set and a knife for lay-out boards.

She was paying as much attention as possible to try to sync every piece of equipment he referred to into the English words she knew. For now, all she could think was about the breakfast order and the much needed pen and paper, already on her hands.

- Oh, ok. Wow. It’s a lot of stuff, hun? I’ll do my best to have it by tomorrow, so I’d come a little more prepared.
- No, you don’t need it for tomorrow at all. There are PAs that never even get to buy that stuff. You don’t have to have it, it’s just helpful.
- Thank you so much, Steve. There is so much to learn. I got to run for this one task, but I’ll get back to you as soon as I can.
- No need to get back to me, go learn the Set.

She runs to the yellow MoHo, and spotted Hank and two guys laughing while looking at her. "I’m the biggest joke in this fucking set, great! I just don’t know why I’m the only one running here, come on."

She stops by the yellow MoHo, glances at the closed door and walks in without knocking.

- Wow, wow, wow. Are you fucking crazy? There is Talent changing here, sweetie. Didn’t your mom teach you to knock before entering a closed door?
- Well, she did. I mean, I’m sorry, it’s because the last time I knoc…
- What do you need here, Honey? – A very trendy girl, with styled hair a lot a make up and a touch of attitude asked.
- I’m here for breakfast orders for talent.
- Oh, great. So, you’re welcome then.
- Thanks – "Bitches."
- So get your pen going ‘cause is just easier for us all to order through you.
- Ok.

She had no idea what she was in for. Fifteen breakfast orders later, she started sweating. She wondered how she was going to not fuck this up. She walked to the caterer and waited on the long line trying not to see and be seen. When her turn came she started blasting out the orders and the Chef kept staring at her without a response.

- Are you new?
- Yes, sir.
- How are you, darling? My name is Charlie.
- Hi Charlie, I’m Chica. Sorry about this crazy order, I just don’t know a better way to do it.
- Ok, Chica – Wow, he said my name right – I’ll do something for you but don’t tell no one ok, come around and get in here.

She walks to the side of the truck and realizes the fully equipped kitchen they have working as busy as any restaurant. She goes up the two steps and stands by the door.

- I see you got a list with you. Why don’t you give me the list and I’ll take care of it for you.
- Seriously?
- Well, we usually can’t do it like this, but I see it’s your first day, almost everyone already ate and you certainly look a little overwhelmed.
- Can you tell?
- Yes I can, little Chica.
- Charlie, I don’t know how to thank you. Should I just wait here?
- You know, it’ll take me about ten minutes to get this all ready. Why don’t you go to set and keep checking with me when you can?
- That sounds great, I really don’t know how to thank you enough.
- Don’t worry about it. I’ve been on your spot before.
- Have you? Really?
- It’s a long story. I’ll tell you another time, right?
- Yeah, yeah. Please don’t let me distract you.

Charlie walks right back into business like she was never there. She’s still wants to thank him more, but she has no other option but moving on.

She runs back to Ethan and tells him that the orders are being taken care of. He thanks her for following up, but warns her she could use the Radio next time instead of looking for him. "God, I’m dumb." He walks away answering the Radio. "I should be paying more attention to this Walkie."

She wonders what to do next. She sees Patrick standing by Scott and walks to him.

- What’s going on?
- Just waiting to see if we’ll need Lock Ups.
- Lock Ups…
- We always need to lock up spots that crew or boogies may walk through when we're shooting. We need to check the frame in the monitor and see what’s going on. When we start rolling camera we need to yell “Roooolling”, and ask people to wait until we cut to cross frame. Then we yell “Cuuuut” when we hear the 1st AD saying it.

- Got you.

He shows her the frame on the Village’s monitor. He points the spots that Scott will probably request Lock Ups. Everything goes through the 1st AD’s approval.
More and more it looks like things are taking their places on Set. A group of guys carry heavy frames through the Set and stage one of them right above Camera. They all seem to be in a different Radio channel.

- Who are those guys?
- Ok, crash course on the departments: Those guys are the Grips, they arrange all the heavy frames, and all the equipment that has to do with lighting, but the light itself. All the power, light bulbs, cables, any electricity involved in general is the Electric crew’s responsibility.
- Oh, ok. They have their own channel.
- Every department is in a different channel; otherwise it would be a cluster fuck.
Then there’s the Camera department, the DP shoots, the first AC does the camera focus, the 2nd AC takes care of the mags and the loader preps and wraps the film itself; The art department dresses the whole Set; and Props are the ones responsible for any object or food that Talent touches.
- It’s so funny this thing about calling “Talent this, Talent that”, instead of actors.
- Then there is VTR, which takes care of playbacks and transmission of image to Village and Director. Sound doesn’t need introductions. At last the usual Vanities. The divas. Make up, wardrobe and hair. Good luck with those ones. But, I got to highlight, that’s where the hot girls live, so I’m always helping them out, you know.

She was too busy trying to download everything into her brain to be able to pay attention on chick comments. It was a fucking lot to learn. "I’m never going to get it. These people are my heroes, how do they know so much, for Christ sake? Oh, no, breakfast. I got to check on the breakfast order."





...



- Hey, Kiddo. Let me tell you something. You’re doing great, we all see you trying really hard. Don’t let these fuckers be contagious. Just watch. Pay close attention, try to soak as much as you can, and keep working hard. You have potential, I can tell.

She felt like crying. He had no idea how much she needed something like that.

- Hey, hey. I’m watching you. Swallow these tears. You got to be Latin, just like my wife and her emotional “condition”.
- Yeah, I’m Latin, and emotional. It’s just being a little too much information, you know.
- Do you think anyone in the world could learn it in a day? You are doing amazing. Just remember there are great PAs out there, but most of them are bums, don’t become one of those.




(TO BE CONTINUED...)