Eleventh page II

 

A few words for thinking,  for realizing.  Coughing can’t be hidden, Coughing  and diarrhea can’t get along. I look up and try to get some answers from the ceiling but the ceiling seems to be cracked.  I guess the words can be switched and changed,  so the idea will vanish, despite my insistence.  Let’s get some water. It’s kind of late. Mom, I love you. You have no idea how big is my admiration to you.  Papi, I love you with all my heart. Bienbo, I love you and I’m proud of you too. Let’s brush my teeth, the remaining ones. Another issue that comes with age, teeth care. Here we go. Here we stand. I stand. I’m still standing,  I guess. Let’s go to bed then. Maybe tomorrow will bring hope. Why not!

 

Thank you, God. I wish I could have that every month. I always appreciate your help. I’ll keep doing my best. I have no other choice but these confessions, the commitment and my hard work. Take it slow from Ray Wilson. I found out about this song not too long ago. It’s just great. It feels like I want to keep on writing and enjoy my time in the office. I love it. Let’s get back to work now. Es war nicht alles schlecht but in this case it’s more like not everything is that good. It never is. We must deal with it. I hope to get there. I’m willing to get there. Friday of contrasts, of feelings crossed.  Crossed is my mind right now. I need to play more music and get back to work. 

 

Saturday morning.  The first to carry on. I can see the day coloring from the windows. I can see the windows from the kitchen. I stand. I look into the black mirror from here. I can hear the coffee machine drumming with the steam. I can smell it. I’m making arepas too. I’m not a good arepa maker but this is the thing with breakfast: I woke up first so I think I should do it. Only that nobody would like them, so the discomfort continues, and it might just get worse as the day goes on. I better enjoy this time alone.  Coffee time. What would it be the most expected further moves after being disappointed? Could it be taking it on others as some sort of draining mechanism? It May tell us that mind can’t deal with sadness as it does with anger. Anger seems to be more fuel-type. We might say that sadness has not been well embraced during early years, so when the feeling is taking over it is rejected as a false anger, or as false cynicism. A cynical or resentful person can sometimes be someone whose sadness was not accepted in the past. Or perhaps this is too cliché, and cliché is as well trying to find psychological explanations over something, anything.  Sometimes things just happen and they are taken differently because we don’t feel the same way everyday with everyone at everything. Life is variable,  contradictory,  and ceases in time. Coffee is gone: shall I take more or just get back to the room? I’m absorbed in my own contradictions, so I’m alive, I guess. Again: thank you. This has nothing to do with you. See you in words later!

 

It’s quiet. I just feel wordless and thoughtless. I haven’t found a way to serve while I can. I guess find contradictions inspiring for words. The worst time, the better. It looks like a beautiful day, like a beautiful morning. I need a few more voice to incorporate.  This silence is kind of worrying.  It’s getting me anxious.  I should read a book and get another coffee. I’m almost 12 hours of fasting. I don’t think I’ll get anything more than that. I’m hungry, but perhaps it’s the anxiety manifesting.  I don’t know.  I made 13. So I can say I’m committed to it. The vibe is turning stable, birds sing along for it. I see it that way. Back to the source of my words. I still wonder who made us believe – we, the Venezuelans – that college degree would take us to a higher position in our society.  This is an interesting topic to think about. In my opinion,  a influential factor among the immigrants, specially among those who have one step in an office and one step in a warehouse.  The fake distinction is overwhelming. Some of them actually see themselves as high class but understanding that it is only among immigrants. It is beyond comprehension. Germans have a regulation over the purity of the beer. It's called Reinheitsgebot. Those people take it seriously and we can tell every time we taste a german beer. Prost! Afternoon is here, here to stay for a while. We will get indoors soon. It’s unavoidable.  But we can enjoy the balcony for a little more. Let’s enjoy it. From beer to wine: to Californian wine. Cheers now! Accidents happen now and again on TV.  We’re here, chilling. The night  is not here yet. I have a couple of more hours of daylight.  How to train your dragon now. Let’s see how long the movie keeps him focus. It doesn’t matter. It didn’t do it that much.  We were talking,  I would like to die  in Caracas. Not sure that I want to go back. I have to visit a lot of people, but I don’t think I’m going to live there again. Sometimes I feel desperate but I usually tend to come around. The night is here: welcome.  Apparently, nobody loves me. I’m poor and a loser.

 

Well, here I stand. That’s up to the others, not to me. I keep myself writing. I have nothing left. Will I ever get my vengeance? It seems I won’t.  It seems that I will have to bear this for a long time. I would like it to be different.  I have nothing  but commit myself to destiny,  to you. Walk me through,  please! The day is gone. I’m nonsense now. Let’s just laid that see. Tomorrow it’s another day.  God bless you all.  Sunday.  Not vey funny. It’s time for a walk to the park; to the playground.  I’m having a coffee.  Not fasting today.  Too much from yesterday. Magnetic tiles all over the floor. Bad moments trigger interesting thoughts.  As long as they remain thoughts, I think we can get good things from them. 

Eleventh Page

 

I wish you had a good life. I wish you’ll be better. I wish you had not suffered.  I wish you’ll be able to join your parents, to stop by, to check on them. I wish you the best. Life is so unexplainable when death comes to take it. When it’s just like that, like a ray falling from the sky. Do we just cease or perhaps we go to a different place? There’s no right answer.  There’s no answer at all. So I only wish you the best once more. God bless you! Fasting Tuesday. Fifteen hours to be proud of. The afternoon is here. Let’s stop this break  now and get back to work. Wednesday. Almost zero and I’m not talking about degrees for temperature.  A silent noise is flowing around the place. I’m alone now. Neighbors are not talking and everybody is still asleep. I guess the noise comes from the engine of the air conditioning,  filtered by the wood of the whole apartment.  It could be the birds outside, but birds have more like a song playing for every morning to the sunrise. I have a song playing in my head and I feel the need to listen to it. I don’t know if this happens to everyone, but it’s like feeling hungry and knowing exactly what you want have for that meal at a specific time. So I fed my need; the only one I can feed, actually.  Morning went on. It’s almost noon now. Only thirteen hours but I was too hungry and only for music, though.  I would like to have a coffee too. Questions with no answer.  It's not my fault but I have to take some blame on it. What amuses us? Misery likes company, so amusement.  Not liking someone implies a partner in crime to share the contempt; contempt needs to flow among people’s animadversion. You can’t keep it to yourself,  you have to find a listener, someone with whom you can share it. Even more than happiness. Indeed more than happiness.  Hatred is one of the purest feelings we fuel our self with. Certain circumstances have proved that love could be leaned. Not the hate case. Not at all. You breathe it. It's in the air: awaiting. Holding for some misstep of life… and Life can be several times a perpetual sequence of missteps. Consequences.  Consequences derived from such sequences.  Funny. Ironic. Iconic. I smile at these words. Funky music during the process. Fuck off! Almost time to go. Broken English a la carte. It’s unavoidable. It doesn’t come natural. Not for us. May be for you. Certainly for you. It’s almost time. I like this word: almost. Almost implied an equation of money and time that ended up in nothing in so many cases: I almost had it (so you didn’t) I almost finished (so you haven’t) I almost nailed it (so you missed it) I’m almost done (only not yet)

 

Wine evening. Time for a shower. It seems I’m not going to relax, neither today nor any day after work. How does ego work, I wonder? It’s just curious. Imaginary boundaries made out of words and taken down by a simple call, a simple question is sometimes enough. So they are our convictions, our beliefs. Moved by a simple post. Fragile. Fragile ideas. Fragile thoughts. Fragile dreams vanished through the toilet, through the awkward silence. Cool. Cool posts to belong, to belong and pretend, to pretend and over dimension oneself.  Skeptical of the reality. We’re more prone to believe in our phone. Procrastinate is cool on social media, so is not knowing,  not investigating.  I’m proud of my ignorance. I better get another glass. Enough is never, never is enough.  Soy yo que estoy pure, but I can’t help my discomfort.  That happens when you are poor. When there’s no money for any distraction other than hate everyone on the cell phone, through my social media apps. Let’s take a sip. Let’s not think too much about money. I have none anyway.  Night has come.

 

And it has gone as well. Too soon, if I may say. It’s Thursday now. It’s early. I should throw something back like the purpose of those protests in Caracas: about how we were explained then that with such an effort Maduro was going to resign from power. It’s painful to think about it. To remember all those kids that died and how the interest turned at politicians’ will. Those who we stood for, and against.  Time took care of it, of us, of everything. Now we just throw back on any day, but I wanted to pay respect to those who did what they did according to their beliefs.  I avoid judgment nowadays. It was what it was. Living is to contradict. Life flows by where time plays with our contradictions. We might have started as a lie and the lie turned somewhat into the truth of ourselves. Everything accordingly. Time designs. Somebody is drawing us, building and rebuilding our concepts.  Coffee is good, coffee is bad. Bacon is great and Oatmeal not so much anymore.  Our ancestors here, our ancestors there. Evolution works conveniently. A day to work and hopefully one to remember. Run to the hills in my ear. Time to wipe up. I was feeling a little inspired but again; time designs. I feel kind of lost right now. The idea of need is occupying too much space in my mind. Maslow pyramid inverted, or something like that. What if our lives could be played backwards? Where would we go or… where would we stop? I was a happy child but we don’t understand it as happiness then. We get it now, we get it when we can’t have it. Contradictions in time. There’s this say in Spanish that translated would sound like nobody knows what they want until they see it in others, but that’s not what wanted to say, it’s just that I don’t want to forget it. Too many wants and needs and not enough haves to my taste. How many cigarettes,  my God! I used to smoke and because I used to smoke is that I can’t get why the insistence to drain anxiety through drags of smokes. You don’t enjoy the cigarette and neither you satisfy the nerves. Again, time and contradictions to consume and to consume us through it. I want to be consumed by fulfilled desires, by sighs shut with kisses. I want my tongue to explore and be guided by my lips. I guess I have to conform myself with the wine, but who knows. The night is the night, and it brings what the day has to hide. I need to read. Turn yourself around on TV. I turned off the light. I’m appreciating the moment, the circumstantial loneliness. There’s a light from the balcony.  I haven’t enjoyed this one as I would like to.  It’s a matter of occupancy  I guess. Somehow I had more time for contemplation then. Now the spot for writing is in the bathroom,  sitting. But just for this time, the living room is dark, quiet and lonely.  I just need to catch the inspiration again and have it trapped while I serve a few words.