It’s incredible how life can change day by day. You are riding a bike across Darwin, day and night, sleeping on a boat, camping in the public areas and taking showers with other unknown naked people in a public toilet one day, and the next you find yourself surrounded by the comforts of a house again. This up and down of living conditions has been heavily affecting me, and now, the last 4 weeks before I leave Australia I really understand how tragic (and awesome) my life has gotten to be.
Confusion is the key: all people around me seem to know what they want to have and be, I don’t. I still don’t. I have ideas, but I’m sick in the head too. It’s about making decisions that seem to be changing your life, but at the end of the day, nothing changed. It’s you that are changing skin, changing ideas, but you still remain what you are and always have been.
I’m going back. Not home, no… I don’t even know what “home” means now, this is the problem. Anxiety is like a cancer devouring me, and I know that even if I reached my parents’ place now, that wouldn’t fly. I’d sit there numb for a week or two, savoring the slow life of a middle sized Italian town of living dead, and then I’d fuck off somewhere else. I’d like to see Rome again, actually, but there is no rush.
I have glorious ideas. I am putting a lot of effort in my writing… soon you’ll get a little surprise too. It’s like climbing glass walls because it’s hard but I don’t care anymore, it gives me satisfaction besides the manual labor I’m doing now. And that’s good too, to keep reminding myself how we are, and how we can get.
I have a woman to meet again after 6 months of electric love over the airwaves. We both wish it still flies, but the only answer is “let’s see”, that’s my home now. If this should fail, once again, I’d be on my knees looking at maps of unknown places, trying to set up the next adventure. Because adventure calls other adventure, and if it doesn’t, well… you are not made for it.
I want to test myself and make a few efforts, try to become a more proficient writer, get back to teaching, start some business, go back to play guitar maybe in a solo project and tour Asia and make those almond eyes pop out of their eye sockets. I want to be the White Devil in disguise and do something crucial.
The funny thing (that might become one of your future favorite lines) is how everyone of us is thinking the same, sitting behind a computer, wasting air, light and time. We are the dead heroes of the internet generation, fat asses over comfy chairs bragging about the world and how we are so cool to make something to change it. Obligations that look like what we truly want, but we don’t. It’s just another matrix inside the matrix. Allright, I did my dirty job even today. Another wheel is going to spin, but the wheel doesn’t change. It’s a wheel. I’d better change my brain, for chissakes.