Eugenio Salvador Dali, La persistencia de la Memoria
Happiness is just a free Durg. the problem is finding the dealer lost among your life.
For the ones concerned about my actual story the short version is that nothing has changed. The long version is that
EVEYTHING is Just shifting. I Stopped taking on my back What I can now call home: a big soldier's backpack loaded with my toothbrush, hairbrush, toothpaste and string, some amounts of useless money, my crosses and Candles, my guitar, my glasses and obviously, hope. I stored my old combat clothing in era's house. I took out the new dress I bought for one of these glorious days that remind me of this exhorbitant past when Life looked so Wonderfully derelicte. I Ironed the white shirt, remembered how to tie that black tie grandfather left the day he died... as I started to polish the black and white shoes that I have designed myself and took the time to do a hairdo and think about opportunities of making impossibles Come true. In other words, I have been in touch with the angel I used to be before; The man that solves problems and sells miracles for the small amount of your total devotion.. Yes, I am a Slave trader, I was a soul merchant. I was an amateur god.
this is a game of persistance, persistance of strenght, persistance of humanity, persistance of hope and most of all, lots of liver. I am starting to get tired, the man that conquered Amsterdam in a Bike and America in a Cheap plane is about to play russian Roulette again... and fuck, I am dying poisoned... Lovesick... in the end it is the same shit. I remind all the gloruois times i have lived: The top of the hill with the Martinilady following ephimerous Romania and Angelica, Forgetting about Carolina and the pain that drugged me more than my favourite heroine swimming in absynth.. the Delicate orgasms Of the two headed eagle and yes.... The beautiful times holding the violin and feeling the amok running through wicked czardas dreaming of what I was suppoed to be living today.... Memory perisists, that's why I find myself so happy now, that is all I got, that and an increible freedom that whispers me " keep on fighting dear... in the end, you have always kept the high ground, with H
er and in here...you can everything possible can't and yes, head for london, spend christmas, have a happy new year but keep on fighting dear, you have nothing to lose except persistance, persistance of keeping that memory alive and make it heartbeat again
the killing aspect of lung blood comming out from myself and crashing into the gothic stones....
the beauty of the tears I can't cry nomore
The Delicacy of the small details that Have composed the beautiful symphony of my life
The avantgarde of a Macondian Miracle, looking for the luxury of living the normal life he alltime rejected..
The persistance to stand up
To pray for god
To talk
to think
To remember
and finally
...
Love
