CARRYING A BOMB-BAG AND PLAYING TRUANT

17.09.04


I am wasted today. I bent down to tie my shoelaces and my blood was up. Actually, it was down, since I was sitting almost upside down. Before I got up, I wished that the phone would ring. If only someone told me that I wouldn’t have to go to work. I imagined that something terrible could have happened; so terrible, in fact, that we would all be sent back home. As if! To say the truth, we would not have to mourn for casualties. A bad joke would do the work, like one of those done at my school by some troublemakers constantly, when I had started high school. Every time we had to sit an exam in Italian, somebody called and warned us against a bomb inside the building – allegedly.

It was great fun, really. Nobody believed those guys but the teachers had to take us away from them. If there was even the slightest possibility of carrying out those threats, then everybody would be responsible from their sides, in case they had decided to continue the class in spite of the events. They set a whole venture. They called the cops with their trained dogs. They were looking for about an hour and then they were telling us it was a joke or something. In the meantime, we had already lost more than one hour of classes. Things like that were keeping us busy at least twice a month. Ever since, I’ve got the habit of saying this every time that I find things hard: ‘I’ll call and send a warning against a bomb and everything will be alright’. Of course I’ve never done that, neither do I intend to. I have to make this clear. If something wrong happens, I’m the one who is going to be accused at work of having done it just because I dare to write that crap.

LONDON CALLING

I just came back from a great party with great music. We were upstairs, sitting on the terrace and listening to Bob Marley, the Beatles and the Clash, while watching at the same time some videos from their concerts. You have the chance to listen to such good music at parties on very rare occasions in the latest years. This was a very special occasion and called for the good music.
I wonder why I don’t go to bed, since I’m so sleepy (I know, -sleepy- is the right spelling and not –slippy- but, if you ask me, I think that –slippy- looks nicer) that I can’t really see in front of my eyes. I want so much to describe those moments, and yet it seems to me a little funny at the same time. I didn’t have a unique experience anyway, I just had a great time and this is what matters. I leave you now with two songs from the Clash, songs that are still inside my head.