Tenth Page

 

Robert Greene. I like this interview I’m watching.  He takes down this theory of finding your passion. He’s right. Whatever you end up loving start as something tedious and slow. Fun comes when you start feeling comfortable, and there is when it becomes a passion thing. So you can’t expect pleasure coming at first. You must commit yourself to the discipline it requires and comes along with it. Social media tries to sell you otherwise,  that’s perhaps why there’s too much envy spread out there. Couch guy mode. I had too much food. Now I feel a bit of regret. A regret I will forget tomorrow,  just as soon as I get hungry again. It was a fine dinner. A few likes for the pictures posted. Busy day at work tomorrow. I’m not sure if there will be time for written words. Air conditioning is the lead vocal of this silence band. A few drops from the faucet to break the rhythm. It's almost a reflex this way I have to come up with the sentences.  I can’t help it. I think over beats. Beats in my head mostly. There’s nothing to say, really.  As it happens when you have some time. Inspiration comes out of the sudden. I believe I’ve said it more than once. Let’s go to bed. Morning coffee. How long! I can’t write right now. I have to safe this moment fir the rest of the day. News about protests at universities. I don’t get them. Perhaps because I’m old and south-american, but most of these kids parents’ pay enormous fees to provide a better future for them (at least that’s what they believe, otherwise they were much less) and which a good part of that effort they spend protesting on things like war, or religion. Seriously? Something is missing to me there. I can’t even explain it well because I’m lacking of words in this language. I will stop right here because I must get ready for work. Coffee afternoon behind my desk. It went pretty good though. The day so far I mean. Tomorrow it should be even better. Thank you, God! Cute. There’s no doubt about it. And so she left. And I’m leaving as well.  Morning now. It’s tricky.  It looks I have some time but I’m not sure. I hear voices, the sound of the duty. Today is Labor Day in Venezuela,  only that is more like the Worker Day. It is actually commemorated in honor to those workers in Chicago who, I believe,  were killed because of what they fought for. I haven’t done the due research yet. Choices, when to pick the right one? It seems I never do it. Whatever I choose, the other option seems always a better one, it doesn’t matter what it may be. Unassertive at choosing.  I’m sorry! Monitoring. I love the term, whatever it means. I know it, it’s just that in my inner translator words like this one get lost in the possibilities of accuracy. Accurate is a fine word, indeed. I’ve said it already.  I know that. Cogito Ergo Sum: I’m thinking about it. I believe that what he meant – this is only me, delusional – was that only through thoughts we find the notion of existence. Whatever you want, and for some reason can’t have, sets an unexplainable void only understandable by the existence of oneself. It’s like the suffering, that’s how you get what you missed, what you lost. So the void explains the self, and the self is defined by our thoughts. That’s why there are so many thoughts after a disaster,  the explanation of the existence,  and whatever further, or beyond.  Venezuela’s disaster is making us think a lot. Now we get the existence of many things. We understand the multiplicity of sadness, and how words work as a channel for our silent thoughts. Enough of that. Birds start signing earlier. Tomorrow it’s pay day. A couple of things I think they’re good for me and for the text: we are at the top of the population,  and we were never overpopulated, in fact, we are about to start decreasing. Let’s enjoy being this many. Comfortably numb is about doing nothing over all these changes: pandemic could be an example of it. People love articulation, that’s why watching pictures and short videos have become a trend, specially including the tacit invitation, or suggestion perhaps,  that we may feel free to make up our own, and of course: share them to the world. Pasteurized charisma.  What are we doing to transcend? Do we even have to? All these Venezuelans who abandoned a whole life, are they transcending in the next country? Are we? Perhaps the phone is the link to a life, although extinguished, worth to remember… y recordar es vivir, right? We are now some sort of moving cabins who transport a soul full of memories, memories tight to a past gone. A past celebrated mostly through social media apps. Past exhibited to keep on living.  I smile at these words. This could be absurd, but I feel it. I feel it in my bones. It’s hot today!

 

There is this article that was discussed by a group of people which pointed out – and that’s what they were discussing – that chances increase according to the status. It was kind of cruel but real. Who will pay for these words? Are they even good? How can I know? Working class people don’t have much time for digging into literature styles or authors compare. Working class people can barely read a couple of book a month and that’s quite an accomplishment. The same thing with writing. I’m like the old school vinotinto players, play for pleasure and have another job. They played with their hearts, but never made it to the World Cup. I’m putting my soul here, and luckily it will end up in some blog on internet free to read. But I know that already. I knew it then. What the hell! This is more like an impulse. I let myself go through these words. I have to enjoy as much as I can. I may have to quit writing to get a part time in the evening.  Only just not yet. Son, let’s seize our moments together while we can. A time for crying must be coming soon. Once again, I love you! God, I’m yours. I trust you…