Lendo

 

Terminada a leitura de "Less Than Zero".

O relato de Easton Ellis data de 1985. Assustadoramente frio e cru, a história contada deixa-nos como as personagens: sem reacção perante episódios e pessoas tão violentas como sem qualquer referência moral ou ética. A dada altura, quando já nos apercebemos que os jovens adultos retratados, meninos e meninas ricas da Califórnia sem objectivos na vida a não ser ver MTV, drogas e sexo, são seres atormentados por um vazio que lhes corrói as almas. Das simples farras e apatia do dia-a-dia, mergulhamos num mundo onde a decência humana se prende, onde tudo se corrompe e se suja. O que perturba é que tudo isso acontece sem razões aparentes, num mundo onde nada falta, falta afinal tudo, a começar por exemplos de humanidade e de respeito próprio.

And in the elevator on the way down to Julian's car, I say, "Why didn't you tell me the money was for this?", and Julian, his eyes all glassy, sad grin on his face, says, "Who cares? Do you? Do you really care?" and I don't say anything and I realize that I really don't care and suddenly feel foolish, stupid. I also realize that I'll go with Julian to the Saint Marquis. That I want to see if things like this can actually happen. And as the elevator descends, passing the second floor, and the first floor, going even farther down, I realize that the money doesn't matter. That all that matters is that I want to see the worst.

The man comes out of the bathroom and tells me, "No music. I want you to hear it all. Everything." He switches the stereo off. I ask the man if I can use the bathroom. Julian takes off is underwear. The man smiles for some reason and says yes and I walk into the bathroom and lock the door and turn on both faucets in the sink and flush the toilet repeatedly as I try to throw up, but I don't. I wipe my mouth and then come back into the room. The sun's shifting, shadows strechting across the walls, and Julian's trying to smile. The man's smiling back, the shadows strechting across his face.

I light a cigarette.

The man rolls Julian over.

Waonder if he's for sale.

I don't lose my eyes.

You can disappear here without knowing it.

I leave the room.

Rip follows me.

"Why?" is all I ask Rip.

"What?"

"Why, Rip?"

Rip looks confused. "Why that? You mean in there?

I try to nod.

"Why not? What the hell?"

"Oh God, Rip come on, she's eleven."

"Twelve," Rip corrects.

"Yeah, twelve" I say, thinking about it for a moment.

"Hey, don(t look at me like I'm some sort of scumbag or something. I'm not."

"It's..." my voice trails off.

"It's what?" Rip wants to know.

"It's... I don't think that's right."

"What's right? If you want something, you have the right to take it. If you want to do something, you have the right to do it."

I lean up against the wall. I can hear Spin moaning in the bedroom and then he sound of a hand slapping maybe a face.

"But you don't need anything. You have everything," I tell him.

Rip looks ate me. "No. I don't."

There's a pause and then I ask, "Oh, shit, Rip, what don't you have?"

"I don't have anything to lose."

"Where are we going?" I asked

"I don't know," he said. "Just driving."

"But this road doesn't go anywhere," I told him.

"That doesn't matter."

"That does?" I asked, after a little while.

"Just that we're on it, dude," he said.

.