It is night and there is little to end the day marking the hours of my wristwatch -23:54 - which does not coincide with my internal clock, the seconds do not know or minutes, but hours used, activities undertaken and sensations. Today I suffer hangover of monotony with little motivation.
my room door has been closed half an hour and I managed so that intended: the smell of vanilla sandalwood burning in my "zen stone" (probably a stone polished and painted either black) invade the whole volume and focus, oblivious to the smells from the rest of the house, rather the absence of odors. So when I go to sleep within minutes (which takes me to write this), then take a glass of cold milk in a cup of the Beatles and brush my teeth, can get to enjoy some peace and serenity after the long day, almost 27 hours, and to deceive myself and believe in an intermediate dimension between me and the rest of the world. Like when it rains it pours. I hope so. In all this is fortunate to have this night the full moon high in the sky, shining through selfishness, illuminating my bedroom and creating strange shadows and clueless when passing through the branches of the tree in my garden. The thing promises ...
But for now, just enjoy inhaling fumes ethereal vanilla while I eat and chew slowly, as part of a ritual, each of soy nuts fried in a bag I bought two days ago in Mercadona ®. He knew this appetizer and now I'm a fan of his, brave because it requires taste, enough to make a page in Tuenti © or to place on Twitter ©. Fucking social networks. I'm lost between the whimsical forms of gray smoke that I imagined yellow, so vanilla, and then dancing on the inside with the lyrics of the soundtrack which I've been enjoying since the beginning of this entry: Sidonie, Beatles, LOL, Zoé, Jet, Coldplay ... And above all else, a phrase I still bouncing between the meninges of my head: "it great to be vulgar" ... I wonder how much may be true, to what extent it might be a bluff. And in the middle of this thought Pam! One name comes to my head, with the face of who owns the hand. And the next moment Ring! SMS. "Hell, no hours in the day, and just today I've been almost 27 hours on, I think. So what has happened ... and I'll read it tomorrow, today only I can bother. I try to remember making effort, but I can not remember who was thinking about or starting to. My frustration is short, as another memory fills my head: red dawn I was lucky enough to contemplate early yesterday when the sky seemed to be getting smashed while remaining attached by a force outside the laws of gravity. And then, automatically, there comes the picture of the full moon in the daytime, simultaneously to this wonderful postcard in the opposite cardinal point, mutually devoted magic. Yes, I have a weakness for these two stars. I love to contemplate, is a hobby. And if yesterday was worth getting up. Even today I do not know. Then, in the envelope, with the environment I'm creating, I will decide. Already
I have little to say and my feelings are obsolete by the dulling of my senses. Fried soy beans have been completed and the dying embers of sandalwood. Has fulfilled its task. Take the opportunity to do what I said before: the Beatles and milk with fluoride toothpaste. I remember in a few days I have the first consideration of course, but since my room is far from what actually is. He downplayed. At this time, nothing does.
... In bed
I balance ... of sensations and emotions experienced today (with a funeral at lunch) ... Extrapolate and analyze separately each of the facets that took place in my young life straight. I examine. And I find myself alone. Surprisingly.
Tomorrow ... please another beautiful sunrise, though I can not contemplate. And another day the moon, this time the increasing half, tattooed on my skin. Forever.
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