I remember saying that this song was for me a taste of something beginning. A well-defined flavor, something that you know well, which I have no doubt. A flavor you like.
However now that every superstition superstitious seems no longer necessary, I can officially say that I started a second job, which also focuses quite a lot with journalism. I would say more or less perform the duties of a real journalist desk. What, as was noted Molossi Giuliano, unlike his colleague left becomes fat. For the record, because that's where I come, it will become a pimp. With quotation marks so they are out from any possible lawsuit.
be it. But now I am of course load. Load and fairly messed up, with a nice mix of unconsciousness, fear, arrogance, sense of failure. And it goes on like this, tired, long shot. A bit 'is also the feeling of being able to put a few bricks for the future, to know someone, learn something, discover motivations. Remove
operated writer's block. Do do do and think.
Sunday I fell asleep watching "Giglio broken," with Lillian Gish. Saturday I'm going to buy a phone book. Skin, but I hope not bad.
They say it's St. Patrick's, but apart from the spring sweater that I thought to put this morning, I have not seen a single green thing in the whole day. The yellow trees, rotten. Traffic lights on, psychedelic fake.
The moon was beautiful tonight, almost as the sunset last night. One spicchietto upturned, like the smile of the cat from Alice in Wonderland and disappears. I made my first thought literally poetic in my entire life. "So turn can hold all our dreams and let us hang all our superfluous things."
This song knows something beginning ... I think I have also written somewhere. If I did, I'm happy. Salinger wrote magiorparte that the truest things are better left unsaid. I think that instead of writing it is precisely the case. They remain there. You change, and thinking person, but you can always return, if only for a moment, that self of the past. Different, and like all things distant dream.
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