Of bloggers and swords

"Still tired?", laughed Andrés at the breakfast table, referring to yesterday's walk to his pens.

"Nope, I did sleep fine last night", I answered.

"I bet you did", he said maliciously. "Perhaps you'll now accept the offer of a horse to ride the farm."

"Not likely to happen", I replied, "I have been walking all my life. Yesterday didn't change a thing."

"O donkey!" And he whistled, in awe. The subject ended up dying away for want of someone to feed it.

Comments about the Carnival in Taurinos. Aparecida and Duílio asked me whether I wanted to see the Carnival in town. I said I didn't. Parents and children looked at each other.

"Are you going to stay alone on the farm?", questioned Adriano.

"If none of you are staying, I suppose so."

"We wouldn't like you to stay here alone", argued Duílio, confused.

I told him in case staying alone on the farm was any trouble for them I could take a stroll around, maybe visit Andrés' pens once more.

"You must be joking", decided Andrés, smiling.

"No, I am definitely not joking."

Andrés turned his eyes to his parents as if he was silently asking them whether or not to believe me. Adriano watched me in a daze. Duílio and Aparecida seemed bothered at the direction the conversation was taking. Duílio said the problem was not one of lack of confidence in their guest, but an attempt to prevent me from dying of boredom in the empty house. I told him boredom wasn't one to affect me in any way.

"If you really want to stay, there's no problem. I only find it boring to be in an empty house, I don't know what time we'll be back here…"

"Oh, I'll enjoy myself on the internet. I intend to update my blog. Got lots of notes to write down there."

Andrés got interested in the blog and asked me for the address. I told him the blog was private and that even if I gave him the address it wouldn't take him anywhere but to a private blog notice page. Again, parents and children exchanged looks. I pretended to be distracted by the cup while the corner of my eyes showed me the feeling of perplexity around me. I found it funny, but also found better not to laugh.

"Alright then", Andrés gave in, half embarrassed half disappointed, "I was only curious to see it, that's all, didn't want to pry."

"No problem."

"You mean you'll let me see the blog?", continued Andrés.

"No."

"Andrés don't insist, don't be such a bore", intervened the mother, "if she doesn't want to show it she won't and period. It's over."

Andrés eventually found out there were no alternatives other than shutting up. Duílio excused himself and got down. So did the two kids. Aparecida and I were talking until it was time for them to leave for downtown. She asked me what I wrote on my blog. I replied it was notes on my clients, the reason why it was kept private. She changed subjects and asked me what I thought of Andrés' work with the bulls I saw yesterday.

"I don't know. Nothing special. He was branding some bulls yesterday. Does he always do it?"

"Yes, and he has branded most of Adriano's cows too."

"All by himself?"

"Yes, entirely on his own. The other cows were branded by Adriano because he hid the branding iron. Had it depended on Andrés there would have been none left for Adriano to brand."

"And being that the initial is the same, it's the sex that tells them apart."

"You've got it."

Duílio and his sons passed by the living room, already going to town. Aparecida still asked me if I had changed my mind and I declared I didn't. The family said goodbye and hit the road.

It took me quite a while at the porch thinking of what to do next. The idea of visiting my client's natural habitat was turning in circles around my mind. I went to his room. The door was closed. Was it locked as well? No. I walked in, opening the door the least possible. The room was bathed in daylight. The bed the desktop with the computer, installation CDs and DVDs scattered here and there, carelessly disposed as a good boy's room. I walked on eggs to make sure no footprints or clues were left.

I was looking at the desktop for so long that I simply didn't look up on the walls. A snapshot of Andrés mounting a bull, huge as a poster over the bed. On each side of the poster, there was a battle-ready bullfighting sword. I looked around. The sheaths slept soundly on the dresser. Marking the position of the object exactly as it was, I took the sword off the wall for a closer look. The blade was clean, perfect, reflecting daylight with such purity it hurt one's eyes.

As careful as before, I put the sword back in position. Walked around the bed and on the other side, took the other off the wall too. The same blade that was clean, perfect, reflecting daylight. On the edge, however, a detail took my attention: a tone of red, a dead faded red that had been there for long, it seemed. I went close to the window to confirm that impression. It was there, covering a small part of the sword's edge. That reminded me I hadn't checked the other sword's edge and so I did. The color was there, as dead as the other sword's edge or more. But it was there, revealed by daylight when it would be difficult to see it otherwise.

I put the swords away with maximum care. As I prepared to leave Andrés' room, a car engine noise and a horn outside the house got me all but alarmed. I squatted avoiding the open window and walked like that until I was out of his room. Closed the door as I had found it and came downsatairs as fast as I could.

No, it was not the Conselheiros back. It was a car with a man behind the wheel and two boys. One of the boys got out and came up to me to talk. He was a big boy, real big, though he looked very young. He asked me about Andrés.

"It's a plump boy that wears glasses, you know him, don't you?", he asked.

"Plump… like yourself?"

The boy seemed mortified at my remark. I told him he had gone downtown with his familiy. He asked me to tell him that a certain Diogo had dropped by to see him. He also thanked me for the information, got in the car and they departed.

I was stuck in my room, with my laptop on, updating the blog. I learn that the ilustrious visual artist Sesper is going to the underground mainstream. He has recently illustrated the cover for Bomb The Bass' new release, Future Chaos, what made for a post sent by Sesper to Blogspot some time ago. I here send the fellow citizen Sesper a hug (just in case he gets to read this), success always!

At the end of the afternoon, maybe some five-thirty, Duílio's car was back on the farm. Their absence gave me time to unwind, write as much as I wanted to, update Radio Universal, some days already without any update.

Light sound of knocking on my door. I say that the door is open. Aparecida comes in and tells me there's coffe waiting for us. At the table, the boys talk about what they saw on the streets, the eternal men dressed like women on Carnival, reared on generous doses of cachaça in order to withstand such ridicule, the dances in tiny clubs in town, people on the streets more curious to see than to actually enjoy Carnival.

"Have you updated your blog, Ms. Grisam?", asked Andrés, smiling.

"Kid, don't be such a bore, I've told you", intervened Aparecida.

"No problem at all", I tried to ease the load, "I did update it, Andrés."

"What did you write about today?", the kid continued.

"About a friend of mine from Santos, called Sesper, that is a visual artist… he works with collages."

"Are his collages cool?", it was Adriano asking.

"I can show them to you after the coffee", I said nonchalantly.

"Didn't you say your blog is private?", interfered Andrés.

"His blog on Blogger is public."

After coffee and all those Mineiro delights, I showed them the works by Sesper from a post he called New Unfinished Works. They enjoyed the collages, especially the colors used. Andrés found one "cool" with a skull standing out of it. Adriano preferred one in total predominance of red, with a portrait of a man and a gun on top of another gun out of proportion. In the tastes of the two, the prevalence of violent symbols and elements, what seemed interesting yet irrelevant in light of the massive violence culture so widespread and so deeply rooted in the very soul of society.

A for Andrés | City limits

Radio Universal: A Love Like Blood