rains.
I had in mind a few things that I could write but I've forgotten.
not you ever?
happens to me often, lately, not the order of the last days, but in the last year and a half.
I should leave by the deadline "Lately" and note that it is a situation that occurs often but should not become chronic.
begin to understand some mechanisms which are triggered in me.
pity that he's discovered by studying Van Gogh
No, do not put yourself in the head strange ideas, I'm not an artistic genius psychotic.
I speak of the narcissistic process of knowledge-that in my part must have suffered some decline.
It 's my theory of course, but I'm exploring my depth and probably not the best caving in existence.
I have to go knock on the door of my monsters, and well, you know yours?
They say the devil is never as bad as it represents ... and were it not true?
In place of the devil can I get a Loa?
And if instead of the devil or Loa find a public office? I'll never stop.
In my preliminary interview me in the doctor noted "a strong rationality and a strong self-control."
Because what I should do? throw me on the floor? At that point I would need an exorcist.
Again, do not worry, I know one.
I'm in a sort of prison. I can feel
Decoding the world the wrong way.
Everything passes through a filter that corrupts.
Let me give an example. Imagine watching a scene, look up and take notice of what's there. Hills, trees, mountains, whatever.
look down and you find yourself in the hands of the image of what you have just seen.
That image is not what you have just seen. The colors, elements, shapes, contours.
The world is not as sharp, but through what has become corrupted form that your will be poured.
For "corruption" does not mean a bad thing, but as "alteration."
positive or negative. Equally
my moods slip through the bliss of the Alpha-man, the nullification of the last bohemian existence.
I know what it is, because I've already seen.
few years ago I read that some diseases could be considered "hereditary" or better, the presence of these within the family made some people more susceptible than others. I wish you all it was just an article on page three with an odd theory.
In my teens I had decided that nobody would have "extended" the hand to get to my head.
smile, this belongs to the sphere of "never" I'd be as borders of my being.
Now they have gone the way of the domino tiles, and once you do fall, one in the chain, all fall.
Yesterday I received a message.
"I looked at the works of Friderich, I thought of you. "
addition to my grateful thanks for this existence, the curiosity, I would ask" what? ".
I have another problem in that vague period ... I speak a little irony in the last twenty-seven, this time, sometimes can not breathe.
I'll go to open the window, fumarmi a cigarette ... no, not a lung cancer, the plates showed only the scar of a healed TB now, and I'll make a coffee.
Then shower.
Today I spent eight minutes orthopaedist, a pretty girl in Cologne massacred me jumping on the left foot with the stiletto heel. I could go to get drunk not to feel the pain, such as S. suggested I do in the evenings and without offending, or I could approach the problem with ice and a few other operations that any alphaman has already done for its own account.
Knowing my love for the spirits of some sort and since tomorrow I have to leave a large amount of my current assets insurance I have to implement the second solution.
0 comments:
Post a Comment