Monday: first day of the week, I’m exhausted and I’m terrified at the idea of the following week. I’ll work like a fucking dull mule,without asking, without questioning, going on, daydreaming.
The beard keeps growing, I’ve trimmed it three time since I keep it “long”. I’m scared of trimming it, I may do it wrong and cut it too short. Is this ME? In the past years I’ve even shaved twice in a single day to avoid anybody could even imagine it, and to help avoiding that, I’ve used make-up to cover. I grew tired of myself. I’m tired of my look, I’m tired of my habits, I’m tired of my failures. I’m never satisfied, I’m never happy.
I’m reading this book, first and only german one, yes I’ve written it months ago but then I didn’t do it. It’s hard for me, I don’t have such a vocabulary, but it’s so funny, because I know the woman who wrote it, so classy and lovely, and reading about her getting the train without ticket or stories about her boyfriends, or whatever else, is something just different from what I see now: beautiful flowers, books all over the place, her being so shy. I like her. One day I’ll tell her I’ve read the book.
This morning D. showed me this sweet video of his son telling about “the guy with long hair, that when comes here the first thing he does is taking the shoes off and yeah it’s Nunzio!”. My heart melts with kids. Around four in the afternoon I met the kid and he didn’t expect me to be there, he was, as the mother said, “erstaunt”. I tried to make some joke in German and then since he had a toy-guitar, I asked him if he played and the father said I do, so the kid took the guitar and threw it at my feet. I want all Betty Poison supporters to be so determined!
In this flat we have “old windows”, which means double ones. With the cold weather the wood broke and now they don’t close anymore. Feel free to be minus whatever, I’m here waiting with open arms.
I feel such an atavistic melancholy. I have deleted time. I can’t explain what I mean, just because I would reveal. I’ve been a master. A master of loneliness. I may be going out now, walking through the dark park nearby. I’d get scared, I’d feel something, finally! I anesthetize my emotions, I enlarge them, they explode, so fast they’re nothing again. There’s nothing again.
I don’t want to sleep, I just want to scream.