It is not every day exciting things to share. And no one can boast of living, daily, an epic worth telling. Life itself sometimes turns thumbs, plunged into a sleepy apathy, there is a routine, unlike projects we taking to heart and for which supposedly prides itself on living, embraces Monday to Tuesday and Tuesday through Wednesday and Wednesday to rest ... and the remainder to an astronomical amount of months, with an ease to say the least disconcerting. When a drawing is unfinished, the tip of the pen tidy, almost definitely in the tray designs, the week, she hops from one day to another without losing momentum. Never. Not on your life.
ago about that just a few hours, or 3 weeks, we began a scenario with the enthusiasm of the young girl who finally has the right to buy its brand first bra. Suffice to say that the excitement was really taking a lesson or a beating, enthusiasm level. We had everything in mind, the words came, docile, sentences are built for themselves, caring, and dialogues, god they were authentic, the dialogue, they said to those who already understand all that meant. The world was soon to us, anything was possible, and which was inaccessible not concern us unduly. For several days, nothing mattered more, the ushers were all drumming they wanted, we would solve our bills at the end of this sequence, not before.
Yet.
Now, well, that is, the scenario is there, shaking, or made or make it dull the edges, just as indifferent to us, we have perhaps forgotten. And when he reminds us, ultimately we prefer to stick to electricity bills to drown in the tasks before us - that's how say major -.
No but honestly.
It has neither head nor tail, this way of life and range from the absolutely fascinating that we never take time to overcome, and must charge which you never see the end.
How they do it, others?
I mean, they are people who pay their bills on time and that produce novels, draw houses, care for their children, and enjoy the first days of the sales, I know, I've seen . In JT or something like that, even. Indisputable authority in any case. If it is, their apartment is nickel-esteem and more corners resplendent household product and they even have the time to buy a new package before the old one fades, like that for fun, history to be nice and warm on the table-waxed to eat where it they feast on small-dishes-homemade. With products bought at the market, I say. I'm sure I would not specify, it's an insult to your intelligence, yet I still accurate: small homemade dishes with vegetables purchased at the morning market you serve on a polished table. In a dish accompanied, too, had forgotten it: the dishes matched, all this mess, wow.
People really live in decorating catalogs would also guides well-being requires knowledge.
Yet they have no super powers, except, of course, they devote to save the world, gold, until proven otherwise, the world is not saved and these deaths are doing.
How do they do, then those?
I would like someone told me. In itself, that would be more exciting, their lives a little smoother UFO neat that my days for me, I know only too well and I stick one after the other, for better or worse, trying to to pin the end of Saturday with the start of Sunday in vain, always. Still life.
is tinkering, at this level. My high school art teacher, she would say that, that "it's tinkering," and my high school art teacher she thought a max 'in me is saying.
However, I did not feel like damaging anything, I'm sure not having to repair since I have the certainty of having nothing broken. But - and this is a hassle - whenever I have a conviction, after, I doubt. It never misses. It's painful, I tell you just how painful it is.
That's what I thought, but more interestingly, in the subway this morning. ( 11:50, the "morning", eh )
I often tons of stuff in the metro must believe that being unable to write my ideas makes them want to disembark thousands. And the proximity of bodies and heads and everything, people, in short, it makes me therefor; characters dressed-like-me, smelling-like-me, in their head-like-me, and me trying to infiltrate their ... always makes me think about it: how I'm too fly to a turd too among the droppings of flies among the shits too much on why we ask all of us, too. Serious. And everything.
And, generally, that feeling yet deceptive as the devil fills me with joy. I like to feel in the midst of an energy, especially if it is not mine, even if she walks the beat in the gutter I'm trying to go up against the current.
I have often said in a pregnant bitch " my old, thanks to the aggressiveness that you start to demand that you sacrifice a seat because you're 6 months so that everyone who cares and it's nobody's fault in this car with this aggressiveness, you feed a thing in me, something I know not name a kind of flux, while highlighting how we are different, we inexorably linked, you and me, one way or another .
No, but seriously, I say this, I think I saw him, I'm back, so much so that if it is - and it is - I rise to give him my place . I said "I do not care you are pregnant, in fact, supposedly, you should breathe happiness and blah blah blah they say in magazines, while there, all I see is the hatred for the world around you. which, if you ask me-which I doubt because you do not want my place but still I give you my opinion-which, therefore, does not portend a great philosophy-bisoubisou-Calinou for education button 'coming of cabbage. Yet, here, you remind me how it is connected, you and me, being so different from me, and me, and, between you and me, being so boring too, because you're boring eh there, really. you remind me of all this, then: take my place, and please, stop making the mouth is not good for health and therefore for the baby and therefore it seems gnagnagna, they say in magazines .
There you have it, I do not make me any friends, not enemies either, I just give opportunity to those that I find strangely odd to find myself strangely weird in return. In all civility. That's a start. There's a contact, it is expressed, we live for each other, we must be silent for anything, nobody has the monopoly of the heart, it seems, good. So no one in anger either. It is a form of cohabitation, we can not say otherwise. No kidding, that's not bad, I swear.
Well. I think it is gone. The miraculous thing I've always believed spontaneous, clear, mine, acquired, eternal. This phenomenon of being connected to people I do not understand, I do not like, smelly perhaps even in their suit-and tie loosened, but still connected and connected to love, I feel more is not it. There's something wrong.
Today, I looked closer, all my colleagues, very closely since I stood squarely against the profile offered to me by my seatmate, honestly, do we lie no, they are not there ways. It does not turn on someone who reads, to watch, when we do not know when it has not even smile, nothing. In real life, we do not do that. And I did okay, and I'm not saying I'm proud, ok. Let
.
But I have a lot of explaining to do, and if that does not have as much of an apology and at least a thousand arguments.
I turned on my nose almost brushing her cheek, I saw all the little faults of his skin, I saw bits of bland sentences in his book, I felt his bad cologne. But this is not the issue, which bothered me, beyond all these defects known, was primarily the fact that it is as if I did not exist, as if he had not given importance to someone who clung bellicose to him as if he did not care and, thereby, he agreed not to live a little different.
------------ me it does not return the compliment.
------------ it prefers, taking the air of one who does not realize, staying immersed in his novel printed in 250,000 copies, reprinted at 50000 Then, because of lousy as he finally decides to also especially not read something that wakes them up and opt for yet another "And if I was alive . This joke.
------------ pretend it does not even note my inspection, leaving me no room for him dégobiller the depths of my mind. ------------ it does not treat me the odious elitist snobbish Parisian who deserve a good beating once I would have been called hick bad taste that would better to donate 10 € to an author who would emerge from its torpor and teach him that excludes no legs and we do not take the place of any seat in the subway.
------------ I was looking for a way to have an exchange, an exchange whose essence is not easy to express, without any real form, without background either, but full of hope for children, and if there's a cool trick in children, perhaps the only, hope it is the absolute simplicity that borders on so it believes in all the little ones. I wanted that, perhaps, he convinced me, in fact, one can read " And if I was alive "While pretending to be dead while he was still more alive than me. I had been on the decline. And he who saw nothing. It reacts, name of a little man! It something happens. SOMETHING, ANYTHING. I'm not demanding, I just want to be sure that we breathe.
him I've wanted, what I've wanted him . I pushed, even in part. By not reacting, there either, he confirmed my sudden contempt for those who were already dead and still occupied the place of many other people full of life. J 'to know a max' of people full of life not the place they deserve. It wears me out, I think.
I did actually feel more connected with humanity in recent times. Let me tell you it's one of those feelings that, despite the fact that it deals with absence, emptiness and lack, fills you from everywhere to the point that you will come to go beyond that: it overflow to say anything. Let me add that person down here has been built to accommodate this feeling with joy.
Let me leave so I assume that was submerged by the -With-Nothing Sadness. I
not wish this on anyone, including my own worst enemy, contrary to the maxim.
I was touched, too, since I bumped, touched, ever since a man seemed to have flashbacks of gallantry leaving me his place in question, sometimes, as the tramp, by the way, rubbing all Bacteria my new coat. I was, so to speak, rotted. In the true sense as to feel dirty.
In any case, more myself. They disappointed me
all; ------------ , okay.
But, more importantly, They choked me of being away. I arrived at the stage where I felt more bridges between them and me, even if he had been charged with insulting the cross, I would have preferred. Here, just like that, poof, it was flop. Paf.
You take the subway, ok, I go, you let me go, you let me go? "I" pfff "to thee, thou rhhhh" in return, I sit down, I put the volume of my iPod, I put the legs on the side because my neighbor is surely a failure to feed too well how it is seen mega Basically, I watch stations not because I know them by heart, I recognize the corner heralding my departure, I am not even bother to get up enough in advance so that all these people time to organize, m 't care, I charge by saying' sorry 'is too strong or too weak, because I did not fell the sound of the ipod, god forbid, I go down, it pushes me a bit on the dock I do not care, I do not care?, I continue, I am not hold the door, I want more either, when I cross, a car honking because I prevent burn out the red light That said I'm not really on the pedestrian crossing, I arrived at the door, the elevator goes to leave, the person does not hold the door, I climbed to my feet, I wonder what I'm thinking, I wonder if I only think of something, I really like this disc They should not limit the volume of iPod like that, I open the door, I say hello still having the earphones, indifference, rudeness, and distance of the 30 minutes I lost 1 year life expectancy, hope and life.
Who would dare claim such a day, seriously.
And, I must be honest, this kind of adventure I sometimes do that very, very, very rarely . I put 3 "very" because, really, it's rare in my life, episodes such. To take the example of the metro, most of my journeys are epic, punctuated by encounters and feelings of many and varied. Often I hear people tell it: how boring it was working today, diapers, subway, the household, an appointment with the old girl a little depressed, the gynecological, spring cleaning ... everything. And I congratulate myself for choosing to be weird. I never saw this stuff, simply because I chose not to live.
This is very very very practice is that when it comes to us by the force of things, spring cleaning or the subway become almost as fun we had tended to forget that nature. I tried to do so to be entertained all the time, everywhere and everyone. It's a lifestyle that requires a lot of rules and not prohibited unless, also leading to a number of consequences, one would not like that, I know. Yet supposedly live "differently" is at least as boring to live like everyone else. Besides that Quench and that comes out not in a snap.
But then, must believe that I put the bar below my requirements because I find myself bored by the tedium of those I have always kept away. There's something wrong, I said. At least, that, that makes sense.
Yet I have nothing against the problem is rapidly becoming a friend with undeniable qualities: it represents the halt timeless, leisurely floating above the bustle and all the ideas he we offer not to mention the dreams, he is far from being stingy; worse / better than that, the problem is almost a positive word in my dictionary only child:
-Darling, what what would make you happy tonight, you've a mind to do something?
Oh yes! Yes yes yes I'm bare-yer!
Oh yes! Yes yes yes I'm bare-yer!
When we did not get excited about who brother or sister to style, you learn to satisfy myself, and when we got tired of styling himself while getting worked all alone, it seeks other ways to have fun, we invented worlds, we play with anything, cracks in walls are much more mysterious labyrinth that those games Playschool packed at Christmas, our imaginary friends trample each of our steps and whispering jokes that these idiots come from large families do not even understand not. It gets a bit too snobby. Logic: it is superior to others.
short, the problem is the foot. Especially when you are prompted for a head to head. But I did not know that the other could so negate the positive effects of my own isolation nostalgic.
I rotten boredom. It's embarrassing. It poses a real problem organization. I'm hope everyone has fun, even if it's an absolutely vulgar, so I'll be quiet, and my thoughts are not parasitized by the sadness of the neighbors on the subway. Sadness not even sad, that I finally heard from my bed at night. Feeling a bit already agreed with whom one does, somehow.
Yes, but does not include me, I can not, your black clouds pollute me, it is imperative that you find a solution because the problem is vital:
You were my passion. You watch, you listen, you curse sometimes you want to hug or insult you, we will not lie, it gave me my days. After that, my bad mood and my belly button did not weigh much and I sent a wander as another strong all that you gave me and I flew here and there.
is the crisis? I ask myself, disgusted with myself to make an issue of such banality.
is my crisis! I tell myself, convinced that, yes, everything is connected, your moods, mine, and even the flapping of butterfly wings.
It sucks, I concluded, while realizing that I would have taken a little bit of fun to tell I'm bored.
Proof that all is not lost.
There's hope, as they say. The question is where.
-maispastrop-
