unreal

… but absolutely true.

it was 5 a.m., on a december sunday. the last three of us were leaving a friend’s home, pretty drunk. but he, the host, was more than simply drunk. he was insisting: “c’mon, guys… don’t leave… we’ll all go together, when they close…. we’ll share the cab”.

is the christmas spirit already upon us, or what.

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anthem

landfill of the free, foreclosed home of the brave!

nobody was hurt

we go many years back – the years when mIRC was  the funniest way to spend our night shifts together, even funnier than AoE (I) and Quake (II). he was still a student, but working already, and i had just quit my second-long job ever, except this one in the office. we were colleagues for half a year or so.

then we lost sight of each other for a couple of years, and i don’t remember how we met again. online, first – this time YM had replaced mIRC – and then, occasionally, over a coffee. but our chat had become a daily habit, lately.

in all these many years, and even after a new year’s eve together, we still aren’t what you might call close friends – there are many things, including the most basic, we don’t know about each other. and he used to be younger than i am, which added to the understanding barrier between us. i can’t explain why we kept trying to lift that barrier, and i doubt he can, too.

sadly, he just got as old as i am. not by crossing an imaginary threshold, like 20, or 30, or 40. he’s old because he’s no longer young. here’s why.

among other things, he used to be a biker. he might even still be a biker, or become a biker again, sometimes in the future. his beloved ‘lil’ sour cherry‘, a red bmw, is now a wreck beyond repair, he tells me. he had an accident, a couple of days ago, and both his arms are plastered and fixed with metal rods on the outside, fastened with screws penetrating into the bones. (absolutely hideous. i’ve seen that on patients who weren’t my friends, years ago, when i had the accident that ultimately led me to opening the office. it gives me the goose skin just to think of it. i hope to find the force to go see him some day, though i’m afraid it would almost make me cry.)

his nickname for the old mIRC was ‘nobody’. i even entered him as ‘nobo’ in my YM list, and his real name remained unknown to my ol’podna for many years. of course, there were easy jokes now and then, like the cheap title above. mIRC had this feature, allowing the users to write /me [action], which resulted in the displaying of the text ‘me action’. for instance, if your nickname were ‘nobody’, and you wrote /me asked you, the others would have seen ‘nobody asked you’.

now his accident was not that serious, it will not leave serious physical consequences on the long run. it might not be very long until he could afford another second-hand bike. he still is younger than me, in absolute terms. but he said he’s going to find another hobby, and he joked about pottery or something. it broke my heart, because i felt he just got old. he’s not legally married and he’s not a father, like i am, but neither is he a lot of other things anymore.

even if he will ride again, some day, and though he was never reckless on the road, and he was a ‘satanist’  only in our jokes – anyone who loves metal rock and rides a motorbike is implicitly a satanist, no? – he now has to worry about the new job he started just a couple of days before the accident. he must rely on his girlfriend’s and mother’s and even ‘mother-in-law’s help and care. he must consider what to do if he’s accepted to yet another, even better job for which he recently sustained an interview. when one ‘must’ so many things, one’s no longer young and free and unharmed by fear and pain.

/me felt not that old when nobody was younger

party over the irish lawn

remember the irish lawn? well, a couple of evenings ago, we had a small party there.

little has changed since my previous visit – a couple of more buildings, here and there. a chinese in pyjamas scratched his ass in the empty space of a gate of a half enclosed yard.

so there we were – five people on a balcony, in the fresh evening, after a day between too warm and almost hot.

bourbon (or tennessee whisky or whatever jd is) was on the rocks, and beers were cold. garlic added its vigorous note to the fried chicken, sausages and home-made pickled green tomatoes.

ol’podna was relaxed like she’d not been in weeks. the 2-pound greedy turtle got bits of food in the huge aquarium. wrongname‘s pal helped him finish a cigar. i put a cap on the beers by tasting the [black] elder flavored lemonade next to a shot of limoncello.

no point in explaining what made us laugh now and then.

before midnight, all the bones had been thrown to the stray dogs and we went home.

we will someday remember the better times of our lives, when you could open a fridge and take a beer, you pushed a switch and light was on, and turn a tap and fresh water ran. when lhasa de sela kept singing after she was dead, and she didn’t mind to perform as an opening for rammstein.

yes, you can hope this will be forever and that the internet connection will only fall now and then. but hoping is one thing, and reasonable expectation is another.

you’ll never walk alone

no, mubbie, you are not original. you’re just one in a long, too long gallery.

i intended to add a string of pictures, but this of all posts does not deserve a better look. i’ll just name some of their species, unfortunately adaptable on any continent, to any race and in any century.

louis xvi of france. ceausescu of romania. kim jong il of north korea. mubarak of egypt.

they were all loved by their people, at first, and hated in the end. louis was beheaded. ceausescu was shot. kim and mubbie still think that they’re irreplaceable – all in their species do. you know, ‘if i would leave, there’d be chaos’.

just leave, let others worry about the chaos, ok?

at least, king louie of disney’s jungle book was interested in the secret of fire – he thought it will make him human. mubaraks think they know all the secrets. dumber than monkeys.

too bad there is no god. if there were, then I would be god. and i’d show myself in the form of a finger. a huge teflon finger, coming down from the sky and chasing mubaraks like cockroaches: pftchlrt!

(why teflon? because cockroaches’ guts wouldn’t stick to it – a quick rinse in the ocean and My hand would be clean.)

my fault

out of the office for a couple of days, i still needed internet access for a boring, useless service i had promised to a friend. so my brother borrowed me his – he has one, but virtually never uses it. i don’t have one, as i step out of my office as seldom as possible (see the About page).

after the brief period out of routine – i can hardly call it a vacation – i left the precious gadget and the mobile network stick to my father. and when my (younger) brother went to pick it up, the bad luck stroke: a truck slightly rubbed  his front right fender. enough to throw his front left wheel into the brand new concrete curb of the roundabout where it all happened and make a shit out of the steering gear of his 1-year old t*yota (no advertising, huh?).

short digression: the truck driver didn’t even notice it and went on. another truck coming behind called him back by radio. apparent luck – the trucker and my brother have the same insurer. effective bad luck: the truck was foreign, and the corresponding local insurer was a different company. a whole mess to have the damage assessed, before the repairmen can touch anything.

conclusion: “it’s all your fault, doh!”. guess who said that to whom.

gazing at the irish lawn

i told you about wrongname‘s irish lawn. well ‘mafrends’, i went there. yup. saw it with my own eyes. ‘i gazed – and gazed – but …’ … but no daffodils. instead, we set up his recently purchased furniture*.

i’m looking forward to the inauguration and a cold beer on the balcony.

*from ik*a (no advertising ). i read many times bad thoughts and bad jokes about this brand. ‘mafrends’, someone who can’t put it together is a plain moron: you don’t even need to know how to read. their pictures are enough for anyone with an IQ half my waist size.

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