I got the blues

Equiped with a synthetic scarf around my neck, I bear the change of the temperature as if it was a milestone. I place the pictures in frames and I march towards the darkness. The gray intermezzo does not scare me. It makes me melancholic. I got the blues and I like it. The day, blurry and nerveless, is allowed to make me sad. So? Whatever doesn’t kill you makes you stronger. Or something of that sort. The Mayor interrupts my colorless thoughts. They organize a New Year’s Day party, a project since last year that came up against the dilatoriness of a group that deposited its excitement in the big bucket of recycling of nice plans. This year however, much more organized, they have started to count incomings from now. I have to respond until the end of the week. I wonder if there will be any guests I haven’t met, how long will the dancing last, what did I do last year and why mistletoe is necessary.

I burden my electronic calendar with another reminder, stunned by the view of a wet Lycabettus.

I think about the near future and keep on bumping on clichés. A friend of mine asserts that surprises have ended – even in Kinder eggs. I don’t know, I wonder. And if everything is over, why doesn’t someone nullify the counter so everything can start from the beginning?

The tyrant of my dullness woos me and I yield. The scarves are not pink anymore. Athttp://www.poodwaddle.com/worldclock.swf, the international Internet clock records everything that happens by each passing second. The timekeeper has a loose screw… I have a loose screw. World population is 6,638,143,547. Abortions 42,564,601, bicycles produced, species extinct. No, nothing comes back and “sorry” is the pseudo-elegance of hypocrisy. Thankfully, the conspiracy is prevailing and the volunteers come in hordes. We don’t live in the Matrix – we only created the Matrix. It’s even better. Who knows what an inspired director would do.

I drink red wine and I call for the spirit of goodness to kiss me again.

The spirit seems busy… I’ll call later.