Neptune strikes again

 

I sensed the transits of Neptune, Saturn, Pluto. How I sensed the arrival of the menstrual period in monthly installments, how I sensed the nightmares of losing you. But it is not of you that I come to write. If not for you. I never said: No, I don't deserve it, no, I don't want to, I can't, I don't feel like it. Being humble is almost like being a nationalist. Practitioner of revivalisms. Obedient. I took a degree in acceptance. PhD in loss and damage, and damn me if that didn't make me a stronger girl. At what a fucking price! The migraines, the pain in the shoulder blade, the sinusitis and the poor circulation, the marlboro cowboy sweating and smoking like a desirable artist and me sweating and eating the bread that the devil kneaded to be able to forget, not the artist but the whole scenario, the tobacco company, the chewing leaves,  I can't even write, I remember the cigarette, son of a bitch with the chaparro, the ashes in the ashtray, the grays dyeing black and white, the quecas counted equal to zero, the gallon and the toast to deceive the hemisphere, all this bullshit that comes together doesn't amount to anything, to nothing! This structure is obsolete, and now, if a more pleasant wind comes, I have to go out to the porch or open all the windows. It's not that 45 years later, I wake up and everything tastes like cigarettes and I can't stand the smell, the color, the emblem, the photograph of the lung full of tar, but they sell it anyway, for those who want a little cancer, it can always be done, for adults and children! Like pork rinds! Sons of bitches and we pay taxes to be stuck with diseases, placebos, epidemics, the consequences of injections and vaccines, living dramaturgy of sudden deafness, children of a bat without pity or mercy who pretend to be doctors and flee from the disease of reality, who only want to treat diseases with pedigree, because the others should be fucked,  The disease of flatulence and IMI, the lack of real estate to rent or the carelessness with which the government treats the common goods, leaving citizens in the street of cold and bitterness, that this government is, is what it will be, it was, it will be, it would be, it would be, fuckingly, if it could be,  It would be a symphony and not a round dollar sign of Rinatos, they still discriminate against immigration, which is the only cheap and brutal labor that believes in the Republic. We live in another cavaquistão, we live on the edge of our species, on the edge of the fuck!

If you asked me at the time: So, girl, you don't say anything? Not even a little girl, a pet raiva? An internal hidden duel? And I, who got used to taking with the storms and silencing the screams, forced myself to change. I transmuted, that's what it was. With the enormous help of Pluto! It was one of those slaps that we never get used to, this angular square, with the long-haul natal planets, fuck you, you can learn all the languages, howl at the moon and the sun in a Christmas hangover, but believe me, it's nothing more than that, it doesn't even add a dent to the sky. And I, who am of the good weather, who saw the monstrous photographs of Lisbon undone, like a bag of broken nuts after the Christmas hammer, I who saw the lands around it dance like Nazarene skirts, I tell you that it does not grow a dent in the time of being and being written, because everything is pointed out there,  with all widths and breadths, degrees and centigrades, if you do not believe, Look, we're sorry, I've seen the gusts of aggressive weather steal my father, brother, grandparents, everything, being plucked, I tell you that it was written even what you don't even want to believe now, even the statues were fucked in the earthquake, they had to invent new ephemeris so that memory and imagination continued to run in our blood, but it took more than that,  two human beings fucking each other, fertilizing a nation already fucked up with injustice and so much lack of love and forgiveness! But it's all in the annals, in the annals of history, it's all there, confirms morcão, the obscenities, the bad politicians, the first cries of the herd, the revolt, the boiling, the cone, the ashes, the catadupa, the bias, the progression of the revolt, the icons that we need to liberate, the creeds in the mouth, the hot chestnuts of Resende and the chocolate Santas and the real ones,  dressed in red calico dresses, by Santa Catarina above, or below, depending on which side you arrive from. Travel agencies promoting the end of the year that should not be mixed with the end of everything, which can be, after all, depending on the perspective, the beginning of everything, of a everything that is empty and thin of hope or fat and healthy of joy, of French toast, of bolina cakes or clouds of cotton candy,  at the customer's choice. The mirones, the smell of abundance and the memory of the bills paid, the noise of the laptop and the stapler, the horns that fill the street with illusions of the world being awake, but no, it's the fucking fog of neptune already doing the saturn way, in that fucking square! And they say they prefer opposition! I prefer sextiles here and I have even signed a petition to free the cosmos from the hand of idiotic and conservative races. And it already runs with a slew of signatures promoted by artificial intelligence. I want to know if the aliens arrive before Christmas or on New Year's Eve. For me, give me the same, as long as you bring Bill, because for Neptune, Neptune and a half and and by the way, come Uranus, like this, suddenly, like a snap, like sleeping and waking up in mid-flight in the city, in your pajamas and lying in bed, when my bed flies. That's it Nicholas, I want a Uranus like this, nothing pedestrian, nothing equestrian, nothing presumed, nothing expected, contemplated, of what has already been lived, exhausted, perverted, I want a rebellious, new Uranus, a snap in those lips to wake up from the mist of Neptune and recognize Saturn for the second time. And from the top of that dream, you disassemble from the bed, from the pajamas, you disassemble from the slippers, the shackles and you take it with your anticipated gift, standing in the clerics to carry a ginjinha and you go up everything and cut the city into slices, you pass the louse, after the nagasaki galleries, sorry, nazoni, you turn the corner of Cedofeita and stop at 77, to compose yourself,   And you go to the penguin and from there you extract the poetry of the night and you run away from the stray cat, with time, and you scratched in the night cold, you drink until you forget the date of the previous year, you forget Christmas, the New Year, and with luck, you even forget the date of the previous year.  You even forget that you have another whole year of wear and tear, invoices, bad politicians, other people's conformism, instructive debates on justice, state stables, cops and much more! Do as I tell you, obey everything, one day the reward comes, it's written and if you don't believe me, believe at least in the divine jurisprudence that Uranus will bring, along with stamina to reestablish order in chaos. Calm down, that's another five hundred, drink another ginjinha that is on the house, trick your body with cachaça and nuts, start investing in cryptocurrencies, boy, or in cardboard for the demonstrations next March, bet on gasoline, on the benzodiazepine that you will have to suck, down your throat, up the intruder, what has arrived is enough,  Moreover, what has been manifested as unforeseen, Doctor, schools in this country function like maternity hospitals, in the unforeseen event of the unborn child, at the extreme end of the package. Either a man or a mouse! They all close for lack of professionals who retire all at the same time, here is the 4 of diamonds that I was talking about, the miserly one that extends to all professions, it is not just teachers. Or the seven of cups, which are so many possibilities, do you see? Everyone emigrate, as the most papist steps of the nation said, emigrate and let them spend on their own! Before, you could only be a teacher after being a doctor or not even having a degree and now, the sixteenth-century façade is repeated, that either you enter without being licensed or you are going to be the professor doctor engineer there in the fifth of the province of Aveiro, where there is a lot of fog and sand, that this thing of being political goes to the extreme of anointing,  politics and a half, you will discover, instead of the lamprey, where all the submarines of Portas have been hidden these years and I swear, as in the troops, on the day of the flag oath, I swear that one day, on a beautiful day of speaking and writing Portuguese, I will go get all my ancestors and take them in your mouths to know that you will take it to your lips to know that no social system works without positions, no democracy lives on laissez faires, nothing works right or crooked, only on rights and without obligations, and elections may come, manifestos of intentions, but my boys, it is enough to have a beautiful summer day, a terrace, any attraction, a Christmas concert or a Superbock concert and exchange the bês for the views,  the ballot boxes for bumper cars, futurism for the kingless and rock and everything returns to a dictatorship that begins with the appearance of an uninteresting, disinterested democracy, where the varnish of education cracks in exchange for nothing, nothing! Where twins are put in front of the health line, staphylococci with bacocos that is more of the same, the progeny and the godfathers of countenance, of such a magnitude that not even the memophant himself and be amazed, you who got out of a bed in Marquês or Rua Augusta, you and all of us, We take with the aggressiveness of a Saturn square the natal chart of this country and we may well cry drool and snot, that the dictatorship is installed in a country that we want to or not, or needs to roll up our sleeves and wage war to be free again. But this is me debiting six months in advance, dry, without absinthe or the smell of ginjinha, because if I go to Porto, they won't have to take with me the slab of my mercury intersected by neptune making a quadricaricature of the country where I was born. If I go to Porto, my friends, the verbiage of the warning dies because I am your friend and another one is born that the land will not eat without sparkling wine! And now Smog proves that it is better, much better than asti or trampe itself.