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Para quem ainda tivesse duvidas

07.03.09

Dados EUA, mas por cá não deve ser muito diferente,

 

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"Death and Tacos" Nataniel Whittemore

07.03.09

"Waiting in line at a taco stand for my number to be called
I started talking to a six-year-old kid kicking his little foot against
A curb and waiting for his dad to come out of the bathroom.
                And he said, “Why do you cough so much?”
                And I said, “Because I have cancer.”
                And he said, “Bummer.”
                And I said, “Yep.”
                And he said, “Does it hurt?”
                And I said, “Only when I breathe.”
                And he said, “Why don’t you hold your breath?”
And I puffed out my cheeks like Lois Armstrong and
Let him see it and held it for as long as I could
Before exploding into a hacking eruption of
Stupid sounds and saliva.
                And he laughed.
                And I coughed and laughed.
                And he said, “Feel better?”
                And I said, “A bit.”
And I showed him how much better with my
Thumb and index finger. And pointed at a green thread
of mucous that had dribbled out onto my chin
                He said, “Gross.” And wiping it off
                I said, “Yep.”
                And he said, “My granddaddy had cancer before he died on the hospital.”
                And I said, “You mean in the hospital?”
                And he said, “Yeah on the hospital.”
                And I said, “Oh, yeah?”
                And he said, “He used to give me candy all of the times I ever saw him.”
                And I said, “Sorry kid, I don’t have any candy.”
                And, deflated, he said, “Are you gonna die on the hospital?”
                And I said, “You mean in the hospital?”
                And he said, “Yea, are you gonna die on the hospital?”
                And I said, “Probably.”
                And he said, “OK.”
And, upon giving that gracious consent, the boy’s dad came out and
The boy said, “Well, bye!” And I said, “See ya.”
And he ran off.
And, for a while, between the two of us,
Dying became so very ordinary, like candy or tacos or semantics,
And death itself suddenly just this obnoxious third-wheel
A pitiful nuisance with nothing better to do with his time
Than to tag along with me and this six-year-old kid.
And I sat smiling in the sun and imagining death at the moment,
A sad sack of lonely-self slumped somewhere in the distance,
As I waited for my number to come up."

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"Watchmen" Os Livros

07.03.09


The suspicion lingers that Watchmen was more a triumph of writing than draftsmanship. The graphics were by Dave Gibbons, one of many artists who made their name on Judge Dredd, although he always felt a bit like the fill-in guy, lacking the ravaged punk impudence of Mike McMahon or the ebullient absurdity of Brian Bolland. Gibbons' style was neat, tidy, and strong-jawed, which lent his work for Watchmen a flicker of irony, although it was unclear whether the hokey costumes he came up with for Moore's superheroes were deliberately hokey or just the kind of stuff he came up with anyway. In which case, the joke was on him and the irony was all Moore's.

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