(NEWS) Jaime Bayly: Incorruptible beauty | Jaime Bayley Pedro Suárez-Vértiz | | Advice

In memory of Pedro Suarez-Vertiz

When one of your best friends dies, only fifty-four years old, and you remember that you are fifty-eight years old, you understand that death is waiting for you around the corner and you will unable to prevent it. by speaking golden words to him.

Precisely because you have little life left, because you must die more or less soon, because the best is behind you, it is important and urgent not to waste time and undertake the creative work, the book should be written.

When you remember that your friend who recently died was ill twelve years ago and has not been able to sing since then, a serious and incurable illness that takes away the joy that comes from write great music, memorable songs, works of art that will live on. him, punish him for the worst punishment that a singer can suffer, which is silence, no voice, no ability to sing, you understand that you are proud of what a blessing because you can still write, you can speak, you can express yourself. artistically without limits, to the full, enjoying the freedom that the enemy forces of time and disease have not yet decided, but that more or less soon they will be evil.

It is because you have many stories to tell, many stories to write, you must start as soon as you tell them, write them, live in the same time as you write them, tell the same story time. that you evoke them, give them life at the same time as your characters. frivolity, narcissism and mediocrity, with the sacred fire of art, written once and for all. always the fucking novels that torture you day and night, the novel of the dictators, the novel of the audience who fell from the ledge, the novel of the actor who threw himself from the balcony, the new story of the holy family, of your holy family, which is, of all, the ones that cause the most fear in you, the fear of your mother’s white anger clean.

When you remember that your friend’s father, the musician who died recently, was also an artist and died young, before he was fifty, and he was a close friend of yours wife, and when you think you see what you have. write in one of your stories, the incredible moment when your wife decided to light a fire and throw it all in the past in the flames, all thrown first that it was him, burned in the self-destruction and redeemed his books, himself. documents, his birth certificate, his baptism certificate, his school certificate, his diploma, his voter’s book, his military book, his marriage certificate, his driver’s license, anything that could prove that it was him and that he was thirty years old. , and when you remember that suddenly, having reduced his past life to ashes, your wife, back from the fire, gave her German car, model line, to your friend father, the musician who died, you understand that in all of your stories you have lit a fire that is not enough and you have thrown into the flames all your past lives , your old self, your respect, your reputation, family relationships, friendships, love and romance, everything. In the fire, everything reduced to ashes in the name of art, or of salvation from art, with which, perhaps without realizing it in such a patent way, you do what your mother-in-law does, that is, set. Kill your past and come out of the flames, change to someone else, maybe a better person.

Precisely for this reason you should give friends and relatives everything you can give, you should know how to get rid of the heavy burden, you should be satisfied when you give something that you will keep for yourself, perfume, ties. . , watches, shoes, all the luxuries of this world that, far from giving us happiness, create dependence, create relationships and work, because, according to the singer told you when he left he looked and gave you on TV. program, the problem with expensive watches is that you no longer own the watch, because the watch owns you.

When you remember that your friend, the musician who just died in silence, had the courage, the will, the courage and the courage to stop being a musician music, only a musician, making music, living in the country and time. In which being a musician is a sentence to poverty, a ticket with no return to a life of deprivation and shame, apparently self-destructive journey to the darkest and most icy area of ​​human life, a descent to the murky bottom. sea ​​where no one manages to survive, and then you remember that, against all odds, with the courage of a conqueror and the courage of a pirate, your friend friends the musicians have done, and done well, and made a living just playing music, all as a musician, taking their music to another city, to another country, rise, rise, express happiness in its purest form, happiness in the medicine capsules singing songs, you understand that life has no meaning or flight or experience beautiful when people live it hide. from the risks, he shrinks and retreats in the face of danger, easy to predict, flat and neutral future and shrinks or fears of the possibility of finding his sound, and then himself, and then his way, and then devote himself to the fullness of the destiny he was born with and without reservation.

The truth is that, because the musician who just died met the most powerful dragons and defeated them all, fulfilling his destiny for humanity, and because, by songwriting, by singing his songs, he is happy and makes us all happy. , and because he is not poor or poor or unhappy or a loser, the onerous tributes supposedly have to pay for the insolence of the darling to be a musician in a field country with no knowledge and little culture, but on the contrary, it is loved and admired, honored and respected, heard and danced, celebrated and praised, is now , when the musician left suddenly, leaving us, we must remember that the best life is the one that makes the pure light. fire of art, which is incorruptible beauty that will not die.

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