I'm always here to talk about colors, photos, travel, books. But who gives a fuck. Japan is destroyed, devastated, broken families, the nuclear threat hanging over millions of lives. Gaddafi continues his crazy war, everyone there that shoot against each other. Alfano with his crap, Berlusconi, Prestigiacomo, the Gelmini, La Russa, Scajola and the rest of the gang of those pieces of shit liars who govern us. But how can you not feel sick? How can you not feel anger explode inside, powerlessness in this huge cauldron of futility, with images of the tsunami that blend in with Carlo Conti and Gerry Scotti? It alerts the opening show of some band in the early evening, whose vision is only recommended for adult audiences . So what the hell do you send him to just when the kids are watching television? Balls.
Where is the sense of it all? I can not take any more of the war, the arrogance, the logic of power and convenience. Of all the inconsistency, of people who do not know what he wants and then takes it all and its opposite. Of doubt, the things that they do not. It 's all still an imitation, an idolatry of false myths. And while you pull out . At best, you play to get distracted.
What should I do, how should I feel? I'm tired of fighting windmills, trying to write a decent turn to what is happening around me, with or without it. It 's a bit like trying to straighten a bent wire. Impossible. Yet I can not imagine how much you try, every day, believe it. But there is always an empty feeling stuffy sick of impotence.
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