TOTAL (RE)CALL

16.12.04



I am happy and tired; happy because I finally don’t have to be sorry for not being able to use the buses for my transport and tired because I keep reading and writing non-stop and having a minimum of sleep. As for the blog, I have almost forgotten about it, because I can’t do anything else right now. Even yesterday’s news arrived in fragments: ‘3-6 hostages were released’ and so on. I was hearing about people’s troubles and remained indifferent. It’s Hollywood that has made me so indifferent to everything. I sit in front of my television and just watch the news, reacting as every spectator who has had enough, who is not moved by violence any more or by the horror of an unexpected situation and who is being constantly surprised without reacting to that. The more I think about it, the more I figure out that studying is to blame for it probably. I have become comfortably numb. There’s no other explanation to this.

At nights (if I manage to lie down before 4 o’clock) I turn the television on and I am looking for Samantha from the ‘Sex and the City’ series. Lively, mature, funny, smart and decisive. The best woman to give you exactly what you need and nothing more. When you are fed up with her, she is fed up with you as well and wishes you good night in a wicked way. You can enjoy her or dream of her but not love her. If you are to love somebody, love yourself, since yourself is the one who needs you more than anybody else. In the meantime, if you want to give explanations to anybody who believes that you have become a narcissist, you can listen to the whole last album of Morrissey and whisper song number 5:

I’M NOT SORRY

On returning
I can’t believe this world is still turning
The pressure’s on
Because the pleasure hasn’t gone
And I’m not sorry for
For the things I’ve done
And I’m not looking for
Just anyone

On competing
When will this tired heard stop beating?
It’s all a game
Existence is only a game
And I’m not sorry for
For the things I’ve done
And I’m not looking for
Just anyone

I’m slipping below the water line
I’m slipping below the water line
Reach for my hand and
The race is won
Reject my hand and
The damage is done

I’m slipping below the water line
I’m slipping below the water line

The woman of my dreams / she
Never came along
The woman of my dreams / well
There never was one
And I’m not sorry for
For the things I’ve said
There’s a wild man
In my head
There’s a wild man
In my head