don't carry the world upon your shoulders

paul mc cartney sings with his nerdy voice from my iTunes. it's almost 3 AM and i don't have a reason to wake up early tomorrow. not tomorrow, not any day. at least by now. i think the lack of things to do carries oneself in a sort of hyper-conscience about the little responsabilities you have. cooking could make your day, and is impossible not to notice how quick is the act of eating your responsability. the kitchen remains full of dirty dishes and it's like "hey, there goes another responsability for the evening" and it feels big, bigger than life.

we need spaces to fill. we are programated for that. that's why so many people love Microsoft Excel. my issue is not that pathological. i have mental firewalls that protect me. when they seems not to work as well as usual, it scares me to death.

if someday someone makes a movie about me, i hope jack nicholson will be alive to play me.

i remember a night at LA. not the californian LA, the chilean LA. a place where everything could happen. a lovely redneck place where i have one brother and one sister -not siblings among them- a former university classmate who recently becomes a mother, and a friend who rings my cellphone one or two times during the day, just as a way to remind each other. whatever. that night, at my sister's country house, i had insomnia and i was looking by the window to the endless field that made me feel miserably small, isolated and exiliated from 21th century. my brother-in-law looked at me and asked me: "what are you looking for?". i felt his question was so stupid because that was his house, and he perfectly knew there was nothing around it. i answered "nothing, i just can't sleep", and he seemed to be satisfied with it. i remember to have felt the vacuum in so many levels: the place, the act, the conversation, the relationship, that i think i had a little panic attack, repressed by a Simpsons episode on TV.

chilean south is so big, and i'm so small.

ok, my sleeping pill is right here, waiting to serve me. one pill makes you longer, and you know what follows next.