reread old phrases on this blog.
I thought, hell, just change. Small gays grow.
Fortunately for the better ... to many it did not happen. Some listen to Lady Gaga.
I do not. I am different. Maladjusted and antisocial as usual, but different, and I attitude as if I were not. God, that satisfaction ...
I look back and see shit. I look ahead and see nothing. Perhaps it is best to see that shit too forward.
are sincere, that yes. It is not a cliché, the kind that are said in those conversations where you do not know how to fill the silence created by bodies that do not listen.
I lost my center of gravity. It was close. Very.
I think maybe I have to re-start writing, as well as mental activity, without purpose. Apart from the fact that still do not know where to place commas and prick several ... I do not know whether it makes sense.
And just engineers. Sheets to make inequalities, not under the covers. Stop even the exclamation points. It 'no use screaming at a glowing screen. It screams of people, listen more than scream.
And just as Marrazzo be cowards! Shit, yes, I'm going to trans- faccio di cocaina perchè godo!" non "perdonatemi, sono confuso"
Allelujah. Le intenzioni sono buone. E anche questa casa è stretta.
Vorrei dire mille cose. A un tratto, milioni di sinapsi sono attive, c'è un gigantesco ingorgo di pensieri, uno di quelli che trovi solo a ferragosto sull'autostrada del sole. Si, è una brutta metafora. E no, non ci tengo a cercarne una migliore.
Segnali di vita... (cito sempre lui...)
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