My Daily Struggle
The well-rooted tradition for classes in Brazilian universities involves the professor placing photocopies of the week’s readings into a folder located in the copy room, allowing the students to go there and make copies of said copies, and then reading that week’s said copies by the as-to-yet unsaid coming week. All well and good, except for the fact that one of this week’s readings is all in Spanish. I may not have the best memory in the world, but I know that Brazil was founded in 1902 as a Dutch colony in the Caribbean after a group of pilgrims embarked from England in search of El Dorado and were unwittingly exposed to the T-Virus, handily explaining why they speak Portuguese and not Spanish today.
My head hurts when I read Spanish; not because I don’t understand it at least to a minimum degree at this point, but rather because I’m so fucking pissed that I’m reading Spanish in Brazil after hearing all the people back home asking me if my Spanish is getting better that I get a migraine and enter into a partial trance state, hallucinating epileptic dots and helical corridors overlaid on a TV show where everyone is dressed up in elementary school uniforms and well over the age of 40.
Well anyway, at first, I thought the copy system was unwieldy and wrapped up in bureaucratic bungling, but then I realized that it actually makes more sense than paying hundreds of dollars for textbooks. So, I chose my battles, moving on to the Guy Who’s Always Sitting in the Elevator on the Chair Pressing the Button for You. The Guy Who’s Always Sitting in the Elevator on the Chair Pressing the Button for You is paid to sit on a stool, take up 1/4 of the available space, listen to his mix tape of American gangster rap and Moulin Rouge, and, this is the most important part of his job description, press the button for you. Sometimes he gets mixed up, like the times he presses the wrong button, or presses the right button but without a smile, or files your taxes for you, confusing himself with Your Accountant.
Then there’s Homeless Kid Who Speaks in English Only to Say “Fuck You.” The Homeless Kid Who Speaks in English Only to Say “Fuck You” is fairly common, and he can be seen running up to you on the street, asking for change in Portuguese while you truthfully explain that you don’t have any, then--and this is the watershed moment in his character development--realizes that you speak English, so he rummages up all that he has learned in his tragically unfulfilled life and uses it to say “fuck you.” Occasionally, Homeless Kid Who Speaks in English Only to Say “Fuck You” will be accompanied by Battered Child Who Thinks Himself a Capable Knife Handler, who will threaten to hurt you as you keep walking away.
And how could I neglect Superfluous Library Security Guard with a Power Trip Who Gives You the Eye after You Walk through the Metal Detector? Superfluous Library Security Guard with a Power Trip Who Gives You the Eye after You Walk through the Metal Detector is a mainstay at any institution that values its security so much that it is willing to irresponsibly overstaff itself. SLAGWAPTWGYTEAYWTTMD is well aware of his undervalued and entirely unnecessary position, and the compound anger brought on by years of surplus standing is always taken out on you. Even after you’ve already handed in your entire backpack to Guy in a Cubby Hole Who Likes that “My Humps” Song a Little Too Much before walking through the metal detector to greet Librarian Who Somehow Forgot to Reserve that Really Important Manuscript for Your Thesis, you can count on him to be there to make sure that you don’t plan on doing anything you might regret, like sitting quietly and reading a book. He can be seen everyday in the library, wondering if he should have spent more time in one himself when he was younger so that he wouldn’t be wasting his life away in one today.
These are just some of the characters you can read about in my new book, From Dutch Colony to Zombie Nation: The Case of Brazil.
My head hurts when I read Spanish; not because I don’t understand it at least to a minimum degree at this point, but rather because I’m so fucking pissed that I’m reading Spanish in Brazil after hearing all the people back home asking me if my Spanish is getting better that I get a migraine and enter into a partial trance state, hallucinating epileptic dots and helical corridors overlaid on a TV show where everyone is dressed up in elementary school uniforms and well over the age of 40.
Well anyway, at first, I thought the copy system was unwieldy and wrapped up in bureaucratic bungling, but then I realized that it actually makes more sense than paying hundreds of dollars for textbooks. So, I chose my battles, moving on to the Guy Who’s Always Sitting in the Elevator on the Chair Pressing the Button for You. The Guy Who’s Always Sitting in the Elevator on the Chair Pressing the Button for You is paid to sit on a stool, take up 1/4 of the available space, listen to his mix tape of American gangster rap and Moulin Rouge, and, this is the most important part of his job description, press the button for you. Sometimes he gets mixed up, like the times he presses the wrong button, or presses the right button but without a smile, or files your taxes for you, confusing himself with Your Accountant.
Then there’s Homeless Kid Who Speaks in English Only to Say “Fuck You.” The Homeless Kid Who Speaks in English Only to Say “Fuck You” is fairly common, and he can be seen running up to you on the street, asking for change in Portuguese while you truthfully explain that you don’t have any, then--and this is the watershed moment in his character development--realizes that you speak English, so he rummages up all that he has learned in his tragically unfulfilled life and uses it to say “fuck you.” Occasionally, Homeless Kid Who Speaks in English Only to Say “Fuck You” will be accompanied by Battered Child Who Thinks Himself a Capable Knife Handler, who will threaten to hurt you as you keep walking away.
And how could I neglect Superfluous Library Security Guard with a Power Trip Who Gives You the Eye after You Walk through the Metal Detector? Superfluous Library Security Guard with a Power Trip Who Gives You the Eye after You Walk through the Metal Detector is a mainstay at any institution that values its security so much that it is willing to irresponsibly overstaff itself. SLAGWAPTWGYTEAYWTTMD is well aware of his undervalued and entirely unnecessary position, and the compound anger brought on by years of surplus standing is always taken out on you. Even after you’ve already handed in your entire backpack to Guy in a Cubby Hole Who Likes that “My Humps” Song a Little Too Much before walking through the metal detector to greet Librarian Who Somehow Forgot to Reserve that Really Important Manuscript for Your Thesis, you can count on him to be there to make sure that you don’t plan on doing anything you might regret, like sitting quietly and reading a book. He can be seen everyday in the library, wondering if he should have spent more time in one himself when he was younger so that he wouldn’t be wasting his life away in one today.
These are just some of the characters you can read about in my new book, From Dutch Colony to Zombie Nation: The Case of Brazil.