Cheers, darlin’
I’m listening to Damien Rice’s song Cheers darlin’. It is wonderful, I’m not. My siblings are watching a series downstairs, and I’m writing this because I hate myself. Why else would I write this, seriously.
I love books. Really, I do. I mean, I leave the school to have more time to read. From Kafka to Dickens, Dostoevsky, Tolstoy, Tolkien, Fuentes, Orwell, Poe, Twain, Hugo, Wilde, Hemingway, Shakespeare, above all Shakespeare. But, I am also in love with movies.
Vanina Vanini from Roberto Rossellini broke my heart, she did it too. Yeah, you, kind of girl try with a cold heart, piece of garbage, with non feelings. What’s about you? I wonder. I remember those times, watching sitcoms or reading to Hemingway, even, listening to G. Washington, Jr. I remember it, when we were watching some Capra film or Aki Kaurismäki’s Le havre, since The proletariat trilogy scared you. What do you think now? You don’t seem too scared right now. But I am.
So, cheers darlin’. Cheers for you and your beloved new life. Your lover boy, your new songs, probably, something American, techno, modern, hectic, high class. Nothing bohemian. You changed, to what? To him? To your new fucking life? We were never the best, but nor you and nor I. But we aren’t we anymore, and we aren’t listening to Just the two of us or watching HIMYM or New Girl. Well, not me, at least.
So, cheers, darlin’, for your appreciated new films. And everything new in your life. I’m here, writing this. Just thinking. I’m not making music anymore. I’m not making anything. Furthermore, I am useless.
I hate my new life. I hate it. I Just want to get into the wonderful world of sitcoms. Without you, of course. Because you decided so. Not I.