FICTION.

Lara went out alone that night. She needed to get away and that was the only plan she could come out with. She needed to breathe. She needed air, space and loneliness.
She didn’t sit in front of the mirror in her room for hours like she usually does. She didn’t try a thousand outfits.
Her skin was looking great. No pimples this time, so she just focused on covering the bags under the eyes a bit, and she finished the look with some mascara and her trademark burgundy lipstick. She kept on thinking about a way to bring some dimension to the place this character she had thoroughly created actually had in this world. The outfits, the parties and the “fun” she was supposed to be having but she had never had. She felt an urge, an urge to leave, so she hurried up her thoughts into a hollow conclusion.
Taking the bus was by far extremely much more depressing than it could possibly be under normal circumstances. She felt vacant and crestfallen while waiting for it. Another woman was sitting in the stop, and she looked just as empty and dejected as her very own self.
She climbed inside the bus, and sat down in the last row of seats. She felt stupid. She felt dramatic, like if she was shamelessly acting out a fictional situation. She looked through the window and strived to look normal. The lights passed by giving away glimpses of abstract still shapes and dull puzzling characters circling the night out there.
She started thinking about her cooking skills, or the lack of them, and about the subways in New York. She remembered a scene from a movie she had seen alone not long ago, and she burst into tears.
About half and hour after her arrival, she could already easily identify herself as the most pathetic and humiliated person in the whole history of humanity.
She went back home walking. She would not take that bus again for a while.
On the way, she finally decided to let her mind focus on what was really troubling her.
She also thought about an old friend she hadn’t seen in ages, about this blog she casually run into a few weeks ago, about the real meaning of happiness and about the possibility of becoming a waitress in Manhattan.
She had always wanted to run away to the States, even though her best friend Clow, was always telling her how much he hated America and for how many good reasons he did.
Clow was such a funny guy. He was into so much trouble himself as well.

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Bye, I’m off to prepare a little surprise.

CHICKEN BREADCRUMS.

I drink a lot of Coca-Cola. Coca-Cola Zero to be precise. Litres.
 
It was a very lazy Sunday. Dreadfully unproductive. I despise unproductiveness. My brain is kind of programmed that way. It’s a very weary internal battle that I have each and every day. It’s in my nature to be the biggest lazy ass motherfucker on earth, but I was programmed as an obsessive high achiever wannabe.
 
It’s gruesome. A conceited call for usefulness intends to murder my slothfulness, but procrastination comes to rescue her. They fight, they stab each other and they agonize. Victory never comes out of a war, only guilt.
So, to palliate this feeling (one of the most unpleasant ones I know), the one of guilt, I’ve decided to do something before I go to sleep.
Firstly, I’ll post. I can’t let my innate luck of persistence and inability to keep projects going for a long time to jeopardise this very much-cherished initiative.
 
I feel really full. I felt like having chicken nuggets, and I was fortunate enough to find two chicken breadcrumbs at m entire disposition in the fridge.
I might draw for a bit now. I should seriously go back to my gay porn art. I’ll put some of my sketches here eventually.
 
Somehow, I just remember a line from Lost in Translation.
I went to see a movie yesterday. It was from a Greek director. It was called something like “Attenberg”. It was nice, but a bit slow for my taste.
 
I drink more than I think I should. I need to avoid that.
I’m having this very strange feeling. Something like excitement. And I’m very much not aware of what is causing it. Just as a possibility, I’m considering that I might have started to seriously loose it.
I always knew I was on my way to lunacy and madness.
 
I wish I could read some peoples minds now and then. I’d enjoy it very much.
I know it probably sounds rather self-absorbed to say this, but what people think of me is a fascinating subject to my comprehension.
 
It would be a very nice idea, to get my hand on some good literature to fill my brains with, wouldn’t it?
Who the fuck am I asking this to? I mean, is not like the computer screen is gonna advice me about what to read, right?
God I’m weird.
 
Sometimes I can’t help but to feel that my IQ has significantly decreased over the past 5 years, because of my abuse of certain substances grown-ups tend to utilize rather frequently to ease the stress out of their lives.
After a night of substantial numbing, I wake up the next day, feeling a little more stupid.
I’m destroying one of my most valuable resources. I’m obliterating my mind.
If you pay close attention, you might even get to detect the gradual deterioration, and in a few years, it’ll be really fun to compare my first posts to my more recent ones.
Of course we all know this project won’t last over a year or so.
 
I might be overreacting.
 
My house is so quiet. That’s one of the things I like the most about the night-time.
I’ve been dreaming a lot lately. I usually do, but lately I’ve been thinking about my dreams a bit more. Last night, I had to drive my car across a very unstable and precarious suspension bridge. I was going to some strange city, where I ended up taking a shower in a communal bathroom, in some kind of very American looking high school building or something like that.
 
I’m starting to feel sleepy. I want to accomplish things. A fortune-teller told me I was going to end up as a successful and a little bit unhappy person. I liked it. I found it comfortable. … I’m one strange dude.
 
I feel like swimming, but it’s rather cold. We are well past summer.
I’ll hang on to daydreaming; that I’m good at.

I've got problems.

CITY BY THE SEA.

This one day, I went to the beach. It was last weekend. Or so. Pictures by Donkey & Otter.

NEVER DID IT.

I never did that horrible fashion show I did that stupid fitting for.

The agency told me I was confirmed, so I showed up there, right on time, like the good boy I am. None of the other guys had arrived yet, so I decided to sit there and wait.

  

Are you Alex? – This girl asked me. 

Yes I am – I replied. 

Did you come for Cardon? 

Yes, I believe so. 

Oh, cause I think you are not doing the show. Let me call our agency, ok?   

Twenty minutes after, I was going back home on the bus. It took me about an hour to get there, and an hour to leave the place. I cleared my schedule for the day so I could do that show, and all the sudden, I found myself cancelled at the last hour. I felt beyond humiliated, especially since I knew all the way that I was not a good fit for that show. I don’t sell thirty and something successful rural entrepreneur, its clear to everyone. Not even without all my earrings and chains and bracelets off. I hope they pay me for that anyway. Then it would be ok. 

On more news about… well, the subject, someone made me a Fashion Spot thread. A bit creepy. I wish I knew who she is.

SALIVA.

Let’s just call it a day.
I dreamed about my hands. They were small, and pale. Chalk under water.
I’ll learn. I’ll drift.
The scales of Klimt are missing from my window.
I want today to be my birthday, but I want never to grow old. In my birthday, I have the perfect excuse to make it all like I want it.
I’ve been thinking about the year 2021. It sounds like so long ago, like that day I explored an old castle in Spain, or that other one when I saw the sun crushing down over the river, decomposing on the water and contaminating it with it’s orange and violet strands of saliva.
I can’t understand a life without the dimension of the understanding of the painful poetry of its existence.
I want to play Sims, and use tricks to have loads of money and build amazing houses.
I went to the see a few days ago. I love the sea.
I’m going to the movies tonight with my guy.