I’ve been sleeping at 2, 3, 4am the past two weeks and waking up at early, nervous, jittery.
A couple of days ago I saw you from behind and I was deciding between running up to say hi or to fling a rock to your head. I’m lucky I didn’t do any because I would have been in a lot of trouble.
These days I’ve been switching between reading Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas and On the Road. Similar, yet different. Wanting for something, running for nothing, but will live vicariously instead.
And because of Garcia Marquez’s news, I’ve resorted to writing down random snippets on random pieces of scrap I can find. Till I get a proper notebook for real that doesn’t have work in it, scraps in a folder will do for now. I spent years trying to forget you but that would have been the stupidest thing to do. Now all remains is fragments of my version of the story and we know how much of a liar I can be.
Some nights it’s Satie or Mozart and other nights it’s AIR. Differently, but still the same. Come home, drink too much, try to read, lie around. Try to make plans but end up shying away from everything. These days I get a bit scared of my future, career and everything and sometimes I want to cry but I realise I have no right to when I actually have something for now. But I really am scared to live.
And that’s all for the news. Now for the weather, it’s been humid and sweaty with no sun. Seasonal bouts of rain but nothing unpredictable. If it does change, I’ll let you know.