This morning (06-01-96) I had a vision. No angels, voices or saints,
just a intuition, like those days when you read the news and thought
that you had a perception of something unusual.
That vision, at least, after a boring introduction, told me:
"Go to the Web and tell anybody your lies, because you are
untruthful." So I came to the Web and I wrote all the things that I have pretended I behold since my childhood.
My childhood ended yesterday at 22:06. The name of my parents
are very common: Mom & Dad. For people who lives in Mexico City —one of the biggest cities in the world— it's difficult to find where Mom
and Dad live, even with the help of white pages. So I always wait
till they call me by phone, and I know they are OK.
They named me Bernardo, like a French saint who guided many people
to the Crusades in XIIth o XIIIth centuries. So, Saint Bernard was a
man I never met.
But I love to call myself Moriarty, and some friends too. Many
persons hate nicknames, but they ignore the fact that the origin of many
or all last names is, precisely, a nickname.
In any case, Moriarty, as Ruiz (my surname) are last names,
so it doesn't hurt.
"Why Moriarty?", asked at the beginning some curious souls. It's
easy: Professor Moriarty was the most able enemy of Sherlock
Holmes. He was a mathematician, a man of wit and wily, a queer allied
for Holmes. Dr. Watson's memories have some interest thanks to the
presence of this peculiar and collaborative character.
I admire the passion of Holmes when he's hunting a criminal. His
goal is the capture of a man who defies just for profit
the structures of society, the law and human justice.
But for Holmes, profit is secondary.
He just needed to demonstrate that crime is a collection of ambition
and cleverness, mixed with stupidity. Since he knew Moriarty, an artist
of evil, a real artist. His opposite, the image in the mirror. A reason for
live. A reason for die. Perhaps Mycroft Holmes were more keen than both
enemies, but his lack of energy and passion made him a simple piece in
the machinery of the Holmes Saga.
Well, I couldn't compare myself with Holmes, so I choose Moriarty,
who was what he wished to destroy.
At midnight, at the end of my youth, I decided to be an artist, as
Since then, I loose my insecurity and shyness, I was tired of my
emptiness, who I felt alike the Doctor Frankenstein's creature. And I look
up for sunrise this morning. And I had my vision. Behold!