“A great – if not greater – proof of the quality of Los Hermanos’ music was the presence of the mythical and always controversial Olavo de Carvalho at the band’s show, at Canecão, last Friday. In the midst of little girls in pleated skirts, tattooed pit-boys, surfers with paraffin in their hair, forties in shorts and even the occasional boutique punk, there was the philosopher and communist hunter. When I saw him jumping to the sound of “Pierrô”, already in the encore, I couldn’t believe it. As if in a cartoon, I rubbed my eyes to be sure: it was really him, Olavo de Carvalho. Overcoming my shyness and also the resistance of the fans who were elbowing each other in the center lane, I approached and introduced myself”.
This is how the chronicle “Olavo de Carvalho: the unlikely rocker” begins, which I wrote to 25 years old. And to which I will not link because I do not want to be confused with what I once was. Not that I’m ashamed of what I wrote. I mean, stylistically there are parts that even physically repulse me. Other than that, the text is out there for anyone who wants to access it and read it for what it is: just nonsense produced by someone who, at that moment in life, woke up desperate for a simple reason to continue writing.
Over the past
years (damn, how old I am!), many people asked me why I wrote the chronicle. Some asked the question politely, with sincere or ethylic curiosity. Most, however, asked me that with a raised finger, dousing me with a storm of angry spray. How could I have the boldness, the courage, the
(I love that word) to put Olavo de Carvalho in a concert by the band Los Hermanos?! What did I mean by that?!
At the risk of being called a self-referential egotist (run to the comments box and write “You self-referential egotist!”), I thought it was good, today, to reread the text, with which I have not had contact for at least a decade, and answer these questions. questions to which, in fact, I have never found a satisfactory answer. I mean, for the question about boldness, courage and
(Have I mentioned that I love that word?) I even have an explanation that my lawyers consider reasonable: I was a piazote of 25 years, stupidly sober and lulling thoughts at random to the sound of “Pierrô” in the middle of a packed show at a nightclub in Rio de Janeiro. I even had hair! And, at that time, if there was one thing I didn’t lack, it was boldness.
Full of dreams and plans (those more than these), in 2003 I dropped everything (which in reality was well little, almost nothing at all) to live in Rio de Janeiro. I was invincible. Far from being indifferent to me, the Universe would do me all the favors I requested. Nothing was impossible. Even writing a chronicle that put Olavo de Carvalho in the middle of a show by a cool band, go on, but don’t put it on, no! And, thinking about it now, the chronicle is much more about the show, the band, the songs and rock. Or maybe I don’t know how to interpret my own texts anymore, which is always a possibility.
As for the claims, it is more difficult to answer. Today I am someone very, very, very different from that kid-who-thought-he-was-a-man. (Today I’m a man-who-thinks he’s a brat). But, taking into account that I still enjoy making fiction using contemporary characters (perhaps due to a defect of imagination), I would say that this was precisely what led me to write the text which, let’s face it, is not a classic of children’s literature. – juvenile. In other words, my intention was simply to make the real world fictitious.
And, if you notice from the vocabulary, it was still a way of showing my displeasure with what I saw as “paranoia”. Sorry for my beardless stupidity. Not to mention that, here and there, I kind of declare independence from a club that, I found out later, didn’t want me as a member. Finally, I believe I wanted to record how right I was, only to be able to throw it in the face: “I told you so! I warned!”. As someone already said, I think that Nelson Rodrigues, youth is a disease that luckily time takes care of curing.
The chronicle did absolutely nothing good for me. Of bad, only the droplets. In terms of visibility, repercussion, influence or whatever, the most it gave me was a response from Olavo de Carvalho himself. Who got angry (why?!) with the chronicle. As a wise man (myself) says, it’s such a thing: sometimes we write smiling what others read snarling. And I 27122046 always write smiling. Although at that time… Anyway, the note by Olavo de Carvalho says:“Humanitarian appeal: For years this guy Paulo Polzonoff Jr., whom I have never seen fatter but to whom I vaguely remember having given an interview by e-mail after many requests, has been begging for some of my attention, as if he had no other reason to live than the hope of becoming intimate with Olavo de Carvalho. As it was never met, the need must have reached the limit of unbearable, so that the unfortunate began to seek satisfaction in dreams, in an unmistakably masturbatory way, believing he saw me everywhere where I had never been and until — oh moment of glory ! O sublime ecstasy! — talk to me. As a simple matter of humanity, I ask you to provide me with the address of the boy, so that I can send him an autograph, which he can print on a t-shirt, showing it on the streets and thus achieving relief from his sufferings. If [site que publicou originalmente o texto] agrees to collaborate with me in this humanitarian endeavor, we will have started the Zero Inferiority Complex campaign, which will be able to extend its benefits to millions of polzonoffinhos throughout Brazil. Everything for the social, damn it!”
Olavo de Carvalho never he sent the autograph that I would print on my shirt and flaunt in the streets as proof that I had fulfilled my desire to become intimate with him. A feather. It would have been cool to participate in the demonstrations for the impeachment of Dilma Rousseff with the shirt, bearing the autograph of Olavo de Carvalho. Maybe I’d even found a girlfriend like that and… I don’t feel like I’m starting to make up stories. The fact is that the autograph didn’t come, two shaking decades have passed and I, thankfully!, am no longer what I once was. And now there’s no more time.