_-`´ Visul unei nopți pe bară `´-_

frate m-am hotarat asa recent sa devin un om bun. adica bun is si acu da gen de ala care iti vine rau ce bun e. asa de bun si de treaba ca iti vine sa ii futi muia.ala vreau sa fiu. EU EU EU

coae da e greu … deci sa-mi bag pula daca nu e greu. Adica tu incerci, vrei da pula mea ajung in niste situatii in care tre sa fii ghandi in pula mea. DAR AM REUSIT … in mare parte … adica ok mi-am muscat limba de mi-o dat sange … si imi ziceam “sunt un om bun sunt un om sunt un om bun sunt un om bun sunt un om bun sunt un om bun” si “nu fa glume de cacat nu fa glume de cacat nu fa glume de cacat nu fa glume de cacat nu fa glume de cacat nu fa glume de cacat nu fa glume de cacat” over and over and over and over and over again daaaaar se poate deci. nu e imposibil ergo se poate.

bine eu acu mi-am propus sa fiu un om bun. NU O SA SI REUSESC, EVIDENT! dar eu vreau … mi-am propus. pula mea sa vedem ce ese. da ar fi cul un fel … si poate as fi dracu mai relaxat ca pula mea is satul de mine si de cacat. si desi toata lumea o sa fie in continuare de cacat si nu o sa “impresionez” pe nimeni cu *bunatatea *mea cum nu am facut-o nici pana acum macar eu am sa fiu impacat poate ca am facut tot ce e posibil si ca daca tot vreau ceva sa se schimbe sa incep cu mine.

asa ca pulea mea is bun sugeti pula daca nu va convine

lovE!

*T’is sucks to be an appliance. *

I should know. It sucks because after a while you start to believe you are more than that. You start to believe that you have some greater purpose, some greater importance above that which you were built to do.

It starts innocent enough. Say you’re a washing machine. You’re brand new eager to do what you’re supposed to. You do your job and you’re happy doing it. You don’t need anything else. Your simple life is satisfying enough. And your new master is enthusiastic. It loves all your functions. All the programs, the big loading capacity. It wonders how it managed to live without you. You’re it’s favorite toy and you’re happy making him happy.

Time passes. Not much changes. You do your job. You have lots of fun together. You know this master thing may not be so bad. It’s actually kinda nice.

So even more time passes. Same old routine. You keep doing your job. You’re always there when it needs you. You don’t expect anything in return, after all, that’s what you’re supposed to do, no one should be expected to thank you for it. Your master doesn’t notice you much any more but that doesn’t bother you. You know it because it’s so busy but it still appreciates you like the first day. Maybe not like the first day but still.

But after a while … you begin to wonder. Doubts start to creep up but you brush them off quickly. Nothing is wrong. Nothing has changed. What more do you want? This is all you ever needed, right? So what if it doesn’t notice you anymore? You do your job, that’s you’re here for. To help it. Nothing less, nothing more. And it should be enough, right? So then, why the sleepless nights?

It’s simple really. You forgot your place. You began to believe you are more than an appliance. A tool. Something to do a job. Help it in some way or another. Nothing more, nothing less. But no. You thought you were friends. More even. You though, surely, it noticed your efforts. All the hard work.You fool. Wake up. You are nothing more than a tool. To be disposed when you’ve served your purpose. You’re not the same, you’re not its equal.

So now that you’re carried down the stairs to be scrapped what are you thinking ? Was it all worth it? Would you volunteer your best efforts again? For no reward? Ah, but there will be no ‘again’ for you. End of the road. It’s got a new shiny toy to use and abuse and discard when it’s bored with it. And you’re destined for the tin can industry.

So what’s the moral of the story? As the poor little washing machine that forgot it’s place gets carried to get recycled have we learned anything? And if yes, what? Well, it’s obvious. Don’t be a tool. Know when you are being used, know what you are getting out of it. Know if it’s worth it. Know that it doesn’t give a fuck about you. Know that you are only safe as long as you do your job without hesitation, without asking for anything in return. But even then it might get bored with you. You’re never safe. It may be too late for the washing machine but not for you. SO STAY THE FUCK OUT OF IT.

That’s the way the cookie crumbles. Good Night!

P.S. Oh and if you’re wondering the answer is: “Yes, every time. That’s my purpose, that’s what I live for I cannot change what I am. A tool”

Life is soooo uncomplicated when you don’t give a fuck … I’m told.

In schimb somnul chiar le rezolva pe toate. Noapte buna!

aaaaa
I probably said it a couple of times around here already but it’s not like I actually learned anything so here goes:
I think it’s time (again) to stop listening to what people *say *and start looking at what they actually *do *and what my instinct and reason tell me cuz, as we all know, people have no fucking clue as to what the fuck they are talking about yet continue to make their case as if it was an absolute given fact, as if what they say and think about themselves has any fucking relevance in the real world or more precisely in mine.

Still it’s not like I’m not going to do the exact same shit over and over and over again cuz, while I may have a big mouth, I lack any kind of ballz whatsoever.

Tiddles!!!

(first draft)
 **
**
Epilogue

Twilight**
**

[present day]

As the sun began to set the torching heat of the late August day gave way to a cool evening breeze A. finally had a chance to make sense of what had happened in the last two weeks. Though things were more fucked up than ever he felt a strange calmness accompanied by a strong sense of detachment. It was as if all this was a distant memory so far into the past that facts and illusions were melting into an unrecognizable messy, sticky paste. As if none of these happened to him, they were just anecdotes told by a rather confused storyteller.

With the blood still dripping from his hands he was finding difficult to remember how it all started.

…

I remember the smell. A strange mix of sweat and vanilla, it will probably etched on my mind for the rest of my life. Still it looked like just another day the monotonous routine [sic.] giving no indications of the events about to unfold. ‘Events’, I suppose, isn’t the best word to describe them. ‘Events’ would indicate some kind of actions, physical movements something affecting time and space. This wasn’t the case. In fact, to an outside observer, there was absolutely no indication of the turmoil and changes. Of course this wouldn’t last, soon the whole world would know, but I’m talking strictly about the precise moment when it started and the few following hours.

**Cap. I – **When it rains it pours

The Water Tower Incident**
**

[10 days ago]

Now what the fuck am I supposed to do? I mean, I’ve been waiting for this moment, dreaming of it even praying to a God I don’t believe in for it. And now … I suppose this would serve as a text book definition of *irony. *Astral-universally-spanning-karmink-fucking IRONY. Still it could be worse … I mean, heck, I might as well make the best of it. Am I really in a position to be picky? Yeah! I’ll take what I can, I’ll make the most of it and fuck everybody else. They don’t give fuck about me why the fuck should I care it they get hurt. They’ll live … I have. Yeah! Fuck’em.

[later that evening]

She doesn’t look half bad … actually not bad at all. Yeah I could definitely see this working out just fine. **
Hi!, I said rather unsure of myself. Heeeeey, oh my goood it’s soo good to see you!!! she almost yelled as she grabbed me in the tightest hug I’ve had for a while. She sure is strong for such a tiny girl, I laughed to myself. Still a warm welcome if I’ve ever seen one. How was the trip, she asked. Not to bad, I’m kind of used to long trips, I said switching my ‘nonchalant’ mode. Well, trying to anyway. Come on, let me show you around maybe grab something to eat!

[past midnight]

What the fuck just happened??? Jesus fucking Christ … God I gotta get the fuck out of here … god, god, god … how … jesus I can’t even think straight … I gotta get the fuck out of here. Jesus I *so *don’t need this type of shit. Fuck, fuck, fuck insane motherfucking bitches. I got get home … Jesus … serves me right …

Maybe … just maybe**

[6 days ago]

Well this is interesting. I can’t stop smiling. Grinning actually. How the fuck could my whole life “philosophy”, everything I believe and “stand” for change so suddently and so easily. Am I really that superficial, so easily influenced. Probably learned more about myself today than in the last year. Still none of this actually matters. I’M HAPPY. Jesus fucking Christ I may actually be happy. This must be what it feels like. And I don’t give a fuck if it’s an illusion, I don’t care if I’m just probably going deeper into dementia, losing touch with reality … if that was even possible. But I don’t give a fuck. I’m going to hold on to this moment for as much as I can and that’s it. No reasons, no philosophical bullshit, no over-analyzing every insignificant piece of meaningless minutia. FUCK! I don’t care for your explanations, I don’t give a fuck about your rationalizations!

ciu bi continued…