remember vividly my sense of disgust and discomfort while reading a Houellebecq in her gentle, exasperating, agonizing description of a future human clones plugged into their terminals, alone in the midst of an eternal and perpetual connection, attached to the horrible mandate to continue being themselves, through screens always available, but always symmetrically alone.
This can not be a good foresight, I said. This bleak future of technology by creating false company, I think not, I would not sell it because it is a bitter French ... to come to America a bit, to represent him teach the benefits of touching, patting his back, to embrace of human crowding of the field, spontaneous communion Each week we when we were like sheep stranded in a train car.
future Along with this memory knotted the invective of a priest not cool, refined it, good oratory, fluid vocabulary (well, the priests have enough leisure time to read the books they like, the least they can do is to be learned something).
The sermon came to mind the resurgence of AIDS in the world. AIDS came with case, even in the speech. Like saying the Devil or Lucifer or Al Qaeda.
"What else is this but a punishment from God to the derangement in promiscuity and sexual mores? Today no one thinks of marriage, fidelity, partner for life, not live, in the midst of a permanent license, misbehaved like dogs ... "
A-man-baited.
misbehaved!
And, like dogs.
dehumanized by the scandal, insisting punished for giving bites at the apple. Dogs. We were dogs.
blow on the head, heart, illusion. Us (we were young then) and we had a joyful feelings horizon, a promise of laughter, and flexible bodies and kisses and love. No: we had a prior conviction, a future of disease and death. Both
wait to enjoy the sex, it appears AIDS ...!
At first (in the style Niemoller) did not matter because he was a queer thing of subnormal, was the fever rose. Then there was no problem: in Argentina, we were all so normalitos so comilfó say Cortázar, as prolijitos after kicks to the head of the dictatorship. How many gay Argentines die of AIDS? Na, a few.
But, horror of horrors the thing beyond followed.
virus, retrovirus, the damn mutant did not deign to come from space (this would have been the twentieth century, at least) greedy and rude, mocking, disastrous killer ... it poured as a full-fledged fever.
And so we live, as the exile of free love, flowerpower as the execution of a deadly silencing hack contact, generating its new stigmatized black vomit ... passing
There is much talk, much AZT, pretty much trading against discrimination, a lot of explaining geneticist with computer graphics and slogan phrases this spread but not what, if-da, da-not that selfless and free love may be the best remedy, no cocktail saved if there is a hand that rests on the shoulder of the wearer of the bell of AIDS.
And then when it seemed that the priest of the conviction sentence was hopelessly crazy dogmatism, when the Frenchman twisted predictions are tentatively beginning to splinter, and to cover that fat capita translucent autumn of forgetting those freckles ... then the fever reappeared influenza . That
unromantic. What a lack of charm, a flu die, release the mucus froth life, having the flu whose name even to laugh at, that swine flu, what little charm ... what little dignity ...
But worst of this plague reemerging not so much against such maneuvers do not get it . Ridiculous, absurd, laughable: we stop cohabiting getting sick from AIDS, and end contracting influenza virus. It's a bad joke, is like marrying a witch ...
To avoid falling into the abyss, so that germs do not take ownership of our guts and our lungs howling, we entrench ourselves in an unnatural untouchability. Do not touch. No kiss. Do not eat together. Do not drink mate. Not met, that there is much to talk about. Moving, gentlemen, moving.
Something went wrong again and then march, with our history books and our reviews of pests, the new exile from the beloved feelings of proximity, avoiding suspicion, looking with suspicion any human can be a vial of poison to another human being, a bearer of pain, fever, insecurity, dry cough of death.
We salute from afar, and soon we will stop doing that, lest the air, the energy in his eyes, which focus attention on
... I do not think the same case had plotted evil with such sinister plans . Dehumanize us, make us dogs, pigs become, become fearful of each other beings, incapable of caring, without a sense of pride.
We have everything, but pests and breakfast corrupt our intangible treasures, for they are neither more nor less than that indifference pests.
I'm tempted to send back to Homer in time with his toaster time machine.
That is, you go and then, two, ten, CIENMIL more times, until that threaten in a world where love is not ill, where the contact does not put you at risk, where they again piled on the night, smelling and human brotherhood , trembling with emotion, some low fire where cooking, slowly, slowly, the soup of civilization.
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