[EN] Insomnia
I could be brown
I could be blue
I could be violet sky
I could be hurtful
I could be purple
I could be anything you like
Gotta be green
Gotta be mean
Gotta be everything more
Why dont you like me?
Why dont you like me?
Why dont you walk out the door!
There’s too much going on in my head, too much going on around me not to write it down. If not for its general interest, at least as a memory support.
First of all, there was this concert. A youngish artist, a talented Freddy Mercury wannabe, too unexperienced to run a good show, too smart not to. Something in between a new Ben Harper (without depression) and a high school rock band singer, Mika on stage was - at least - deeply refreshing. But then again, was it Mika - with its hairy puppets and air balloons, with its trash bins and feathers, with his unbelievable voice and his outrageuous playbacks - or rather the mere fact of being at a mass concert, with 6999 other (younger) people around that felt refreshing?
And there was Rome, oh god, Rome again, in its breathtaking and luscious beauty… Rome with its clients and friends (which is which, by the way?), with the tonnarelli alla gricia and nebbiolo I’d been missing for so long, Rome with lights and shadows, monuments and dirt, stardom and misery, sunshine and traffic, beauty and hate, Rome with Rotko and Kubrik, with cinema and burrata, Rome offering carciofi alla giudia and sophisticated SPAs. The city was there, calling and seducing in the middle of a huge, unexpected noise. Reminding me of sweet and sour past times, forcing me to think about what’s next.
What’s next, Gaijin? Where’re you going next?
Could be an easy one, this time - I’m going to Sao Paulo, next.
But that’s no answer. Brazil is just a temporary escape, there’s almost no “future” perspective into the idea of spending a year down there.
“All I want is to be a decent man, is it that complicated?” said a good friend in piazza Campitelli, once.
I had no answer then, and I still don’t have one now. Mee too, I’d like to scream out of the window, I want to be a decent man as well !
Hell, it’s probably the only real ambition I have, and I do not even know how to fulfill it.
Who’s next on the line?
Who’s the next friend, role model, romance who’ll betray me?
I’m just waiting. Pretending I’m ready and indifferent, but more simply getting ready to limit collateral damage.
They’d be right. I’m the first one to be untrue. To other people and to myself. So why expect more or better than that?
Wake-up calls are at five thirty, currently.
How the hell can I be still awake past midnight?