Third page VI

A new week has come. This is my most important week of the year: it will be my son’s birthday.  Everything makes sense and whatever effort has not been hard enough when it comes to him. I just hope to improve it in time. Actually I expect it so. Let’s see what comes along with it next week. For now, let’s just think and enjoy. I want chocolate.  There’s a candy bar machine across the room but I don’t really feel like having anything from there. I’m just waiting for this break to end while these words find themselves a place for this paragraph. I’m at home now. Again, holding a glass of wine, indoors. Hearing the complaints of the house, hearing them like they were said in some foreign language I don’t know.  I just consent with my head pretending I’m paying any sort of attention.  From time to time, I make a little smile. I open up my eyes in an attempt of surprise. Anything that works for looking like I’m following it. Balcony minutes. Not enough. Never enough. I’ve lost space over the smoke. It kind of makes me sad but I can forget it a little bit with every taste of wine, with every kiss on the glass. No glass kisses for a long time, by the way. That’s how a life with debts looks like. Worries comes first, I guess. I guess wrong. No sunset for these eyes today. Next business day, like the invoices. Still dark. Foggy. Less hot than yesterday. Now that I look at the watch, it's time to get indoors. Forgive me the rest of the bands but in Spanish,  Soda Stereo is just the best of the best… the GOAT, like I’ve heard here. I’m listening to them just now. A pleasure for my soul. At least. At last. “Es un delirio de condenados”. Yes indeed. “Encendió mi conciencia con sus demonios”, definitely.  And now that my consciousness is on, I can state, as a figure of speech,  that depression is more a luxury when we come from the underdevelopment. I mean, look where we come from. Seriously? Can we afford to get depressed? It’s an interesting thing to write and argue about. A next day. A hangover next day. Surprisingly, no work today. I asked for a few days off since I thought I was going on a trip. That’s the thing when planning so early. No trip but I still keep the days. I would like to say I’m going to take advantage of it,  and use them wisely, but I know it won’t be so. A procrastinating life, breathing depression from the air and halfway broke, is, is a, is not a, not a promising picture indeed but, I have colors in the sky as a gift from the sun. Let there be sun then. Sunrise is written in English almost like smile is in Spanish: sonrisas then. Let’s go. Let’s hope. Why not, right? Cortisol: what am I going to do with you? Chocolate, I guess. There is a little tiny black spot at the ceiling. It might be a mosquito. It looks smaller than a fly. I guess it is there to get fed from my blood. It is still there. I can see it from we are I am. The thing is that I’m feeling itchy already just because I know it is there, and I find the whole thing a bit funny. Body is already suffering not knowing if ever get to happen. Mind does that. Everything we sense is pretty much perception coded through that we've been storing in our head. What have we stored so far? What have we coded in that space we relate with love? Have we stored suffering there? Now we know why love hurts, right? How about buying food, pizza, for example? We understand that the way we’ve been storing moments, and the feeling we relate them with, somehow determines our character, and by our character, our attitude.  What's the difference between them, by the way?

 

A new Friday afternoon has come. I had a great end of August.  Actually the last day of August is the most important day in my life, and, for the record, it was just perfect. That was yesterday,  just like the song. No work today, no work tomorrow, and not on Monday either. In this country that means no money as well. My worries are now manifesting themselves as boils in my face. I have one on my nose now. That one could mean the rent, for example.  I got an infection in one ear, probably because some other debt I must honor by next week. So stoicism hasn’t worked out pretty much at the end. Today, I drink. What else? Nothing to get profit from, right now. I’m waiting for tomorrow,  for a brighter tomorrow.  Let’s see. Sun is still shining, so we can smile and remember. I was thinking about victimism, and it turns out that it is exactly as the Spanish interpretation:  blame others for your own misfortunes. How should we understand a misfortune in the first place? I mean, is it something derived,  kind of like a consequence,  from any chain of events? Is it just shit happening and that’s it? Or maybe it’s  something we could blame someone for? Let’s assume we could actually blame someone for that thing is happening to us. Then what? How come blaming solves anyhow whatever problem we have to face? The need of not being accountable is stronger that the acknowledgement of the self on it. And perhaps that is because guilt weights more than taking any responsibility. That could explain procrastination. Avoid is an interesting word, also the words that we read from it… avoid a void, indeed! The balcony. I feel like I’m losing it. You see, I don’t live alone. I understand I have to share it, but it sort of bothers me this fact that I feel, it is not being equally shared: victimism again talking through my words. Who cares! Does it matter at all? I don’t think so. I believe I just need a better income, to be honest. I think the rest is just hanging in there, precisely for not being stable enough to purchase anything that helps you forget. I write because I can’t take my car to go out with no explanation. I can’t even have any alcohol outdoors because I’m always the driver. I can’t take the fucking balcony for myself because I’m not the smoker. See. I just need a better income to bear my so made up problems, and not playing victim again anymore. Sorry for taking you here and make you witness an average forty four old man complaining for a life he chose, and trying to blame anyone else for it. Diapers. I’ve changed some. I may have to change a symbolic diaper for my mind. It’s time. I have to talk to the administration office, and tell them I can’t pay the rent now. Let’s see how it works for me…