Always write, even when you’re drunk

Coming back home after this thoughtful weekend. Just after the book club meeting (Le club du livre). There will be some English mistakes, I’m a bit drunk. But I NEED you reader dammit. See Fred, that’s the meaning of “Hallucinating Foucault”. For me. It’s the other side, the listener, the friend. I drove for half an hour after having port, scotch and those vodka jellies. All alone, loneliness is my madhouse. I’m not that drunk. I’m in that nice stage I start thinking about what life is. Rimkus, I’m trying to translate the essence of your being. I could have been arrested. I could have died. And I was so aware of everything. But I could only think a white owl would come and I would crash my car so badly I would die. My citroen. Red. Nothing in life is random. I had a white car, then a red, then a black, and then a red. On the stereo I listened to the songs I needed to: The Cure, the Darkness, The Doors. Why are “The Doors” songs in my head all the time lately? Alright, the you’ll say it’s alphabetical order. NOTHING is random. What is life for?? Never stop thinking about that. Hey what’s your name?
How old are you?
Where’d you go to school?
Well, now that we know each other a little bit better,
Why don’t you come over here and make me feel all right! Wrap your legs around my neck,
Wrap your arms around my feet,
Wrap your hair around my skin.
Yeah… I wish I had recorded all my thoughts at that time. You may think it’s all rubbish, but it’s not. I NEEDED that.
“God gives wings for those who haven’t got teeth”. Got that? No?
São Paulo is a wonderful stupid concrete jungle. Looked at the “clock” at the end of Heitor Penteado Street. What time was it? It was 33:33


2 Comentários (+adicionar seu?)

  1. patdelkarmo
    ago 29, 2010 @ 23:16:10

    Porque a nova ordem mundial quer apagar nossa individualidade e nossos sentimentos. Por isso não está em um diário fechado. Só não sei porque está em inglês.


  2. laszlo_kovacs
    ago 30, 2010 @ 01:52:31

    G L O R I A !


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