ENGLISH VERSION BELOW

No se si saps que "La passió segons Sant Mateu" està considerada l'obra més colosal de la història de la música. Jo no ho sé, ho vaig llegir, però, el que si en canvi crec és en les casualitat; i a vegades les casualitats no passen perquè si.

Ahir vaig lidiar, lidio i ara hi lidiaré un temps més amb un passat que ara vull fer present. Mateu és el teu nom. La barreja de la teva autentiquíssima frivolitat convertida ara en una proximitat que aclapara....personatge que tots compràvem a un preu caríssim de basta inaccessibilitat en trobar-te i que ara tu et vols treure de sobre. Murs que tu vas construir amb una base indestructible que ara et faran cridar de ràbia la dificultat en avenca’ls.

Tot està bé quan ha estat construït amb mira. Quan no has intentat dir el que no era i quan et mostraves tal qual...deixa'm seguir pensant que tu també em semblaves així, ho ets encara! ahir m'ho vas constatar desde la realitat cibernètica que ens separa ara mateix (19383.39km per si no ho sabies) . Que bonic es veure't ara tant lluny i sentir-te tant proper: de sinceritat, de històries viscudes, de complicitat, de dolors que es claven i no sabem com treure'ns, de veritats sotmeses a un implacable silenci que et va matant per dintre.

Estimat company, fas tanta enveja, ara vols desafiar-te per entrar tu sol on els teus dos més antics companys -un noi de 13 i un de 36- no volien que entressis, et tenien presoner i tu hi erets tant còmode! Però alguna ratlla vas traspassar o d'alguna manera vas obrir els ulls que sense mirar enrere vas fer el salt. Benvingut a la caiguda lliure. Ves al tanto que ara no hi ha xarxa! només els cops esmorteiran la teva insultant soledat. Jo intentaré ser prop teu, tan a prop com m'ho permetin aquesta burrada de kilòmetres que ens separa per alleugerir-t'ho tot una mica si pogués!

Et veig i em veig. Tu amb 36, jo vaig fer-ho amb 23 a San Francisco i l'hòstia va ser descomunal. El dolor insuportable. Em nego a definir-te la soledat que vaig sentir. Fes de la teva persona i el teu entorn més immediat la teva fortalesa. Mira com miraves -era molt creïble i enamorava-. Parla com parlaves -era molt creïble i enamorava-. Camina com caminaves - era molt creïble i enamorava-. Fes-ho tot igual i segueix sent tu. Aprèn a sentir diferent si s'escau o sent com senties abans també, honestament!

Obvia el camí difícil de la passió; on les grans paraules van acompanyades de tons de corda que es fan llargs, no les utilitzis com a símbol de divinitat, fes-ho tot en un baix continu. I calla quan et pronunciïn les últimes paraules. Parla aleshores quan tornis a ser tu. Ho veuràs quan et miris al mirall, un dia qualsevol a no sé quin coi de ciutat et trobis. Aleshores t'hi veuràs i és aleshores quan t'hauràs d'afrontar a tu. I tornar a decidir: què, qui, quan i com...que aquest em va semblar ahir el teu gran "issue". Com?

Doncs això: Com ho faràs?

M'estic delint de sentir-te una resposta quan la tinguis, quan sigui, sense pressa....ningú t'espera! Si et creus això, hauràs guanyat! Venim sols i marxem sols! Si et quedes que sigui perquè has trencat literalment les cadenes....

Bona sort i bon viatge

Bach - Matthaus Passion - 39. Aria A - Erbarme dich

(ho sento no la trobo cantada per sempre fascinant Philippe Jaroussky)

ENGLISH

I’m not quite sure if you knew that St. Mathew’s passion is considered to be the most impressing piece in music history. I don’t know it myself for a fact, yet I read it somewhere. What I do believe in is in destiny, and sometimes our destiny is not as random as we think it is.

Yesterday I dealt with it, I’m doing it right now and I know I will still deal with a past that I want to become a present. Matthew is your name. The mix of your very frivolity now turned into a closeness that outshines. You were a character that we all bought at the highest price due to how hard to find you were and now you want to push that away. Walls that you built to be unbeatable that will see you crying in your way to cross them.

Everything stays fine when you build it carefully. When you never try to say something meaningless, when you happen to be as you are. Let me still believe that you were like I thought you were, that you still are. You confirmed it yesterday regardless of the cyber distance between us - 19383.39km by the way -. How nice to see you so far and feel you so close, with your honesty, with the stories you lived, with our connection, with the pain that remains and we can’t erase, with the truth we shut with a silence that kills us inside out.

Dear friend, I do envy you. Now you are defying yourself to get where your oldest friends – a 13 year old boy and a 36 year old man – never wanted you to go, holding you prisoner yet you were so confortable. But you might have drawn a line on the sand, or opened your eyes and you jumped never looking back. Welcome to free falling. Watch out though, there is no net. Many times, your loneliness will stop the impact. I’ll try to be close to you, as close as this very real distance allows me to smooth your landing too.

I watch you and I see myself. You are 36 and I was 23 in San Francisco and the crash was astounding. The pain was intolerable. I refuse to define the loneliness I felt. Let your very own self and your closest reality become your strength. Watch as you used to watch – it was very believable and easy to love -; speak as you used to speak – it was very believable and easy to love -; walk as you used to walk – it was very believable and easy to love -. Just do everything exactly the same and be yourself. Learn how to feel differently if you need it of feel as you used to feel too, honestly.

Forget the hard way of passion, where words come with long string notes, don’t use them as divinities, do everything you can low profile. And remain silent when they say the last words. Speak when you become yourself again. You’ll notice it when you see yourself in the mirror, a random day who knows where. You will see yourself and you’ll have to face it. And you’ll have to decide: what, who, when and how being this one, as I see it, yesterday’s biggest issue. How? Then be it: how will you do it?

I can’t wait to see your answer when you have it, whatever it takes, there is no rush. No one will be waiting. If you believe my words you’ll have won already. If you stay there, you’ll have broken your chains, literally.

Good luck and have a safe trip.

I am 40. I wanna be there. I’m scared of when. I don’t wanna suffer now, I don’t wanna get rid of the advantages that put me in front of the continuum order. My instinct keeps pushing me to defying gravity – literally. I hate to hide, because honesty is my religion and has always defined my persona. It is a trait that defines big confrontations. My honesty I consider as my truth, as a gift –even when I have unintentionally hurt somebody with it-. But having a gift or many can be nothing else than losing yourself, if you don’t see clearly, with enough time to straighten the rises, and not taking them all downhill.

Listen to me! I'm talking to you who I’m sure will read this. If you’ve ever had the feeling of being scared of me, because you think this is going to crash, be braver than me, look me in the eye, and tell me to get off. I never make a fuzz in these cases. I simply fade away in silence.

This very last weekend I laughed again (I blame you for this), and you know what? Like the heart and the sex, laughing works by means of an erection. It doesn’t arise without excitement. It never catches you off guard, or almost never, unless a “good” thought betrays you and makes you smile. This last weekend I got it again: in 72 hours I have touched, licked, and smelled the disbelief of seeing myself going back to the track where I used to place myself when I was younger.

What a fucking need of hanging myself to what I tend to see as the key of the human condition: love and commitment. Love, I have usually known how to turn it into friendship. Yes, friendship, the friendship that balances the abandonment of the air given to me by the urge of love. Commitment, commitment like a won battle… that always ends up making me proud.

I sometimes think that my everlasting longing for friendship comes from all my failed children. The children yet to come. The child I have got. Just a matter of time.

Friendship is so essential to me. So much. I know very well that as a young man I looked for friendship in dynamics that were too fast and got empty dramatically. Nowadays, the paternal instinct I feel drives my away from them, and brings me closer to friends in whose eyes I can see youth telling me how they will be when they are old. As I once heard – I don’t remember by who- nature gives us a face when we are born, at forty we have the face built by ourselves, and when we die we have the face of our very own. Maybe it is not true, but I love to believe it is.

The fact of living often puzzles me more than thinking that I will die someday.