meaningless

February, 26th

Why am I so stupid? Why can’t I be just someone from the crowd? Why is so difficult to live like an open man? Sometimes I hate myself. I hate the way I am. Why am I so fucking shy? she drives me crazy and I can’t tell her. I’m going mad about this. And perhaps tomorrow I’ll regret about what I’m writing but.. WHO CARES? WHO CARES ABOUT MYSELF? I’m just another idiot on this fucking world. Please listen at John, instep of “give peace a chance”, GIVE ME A CHANCE! I´ll do anything to have you at my side. Isn’t it a pity? who cares. I’m writing to no one here. Nobody cares about a fucking single person on earth. We always care about our selves, and it’s understandable. We want the best for us. and then comes the rest…

Tired of being someone else. I gonna go to bed. but, of course, WHO CARES?

sincerely, Mr. Moustache

How to fight loneliness?

February, 23rd

This is a song I found after hours and hours of searching on the Virgin studios… No just kidding ha ha I heard it on Dr. House and from that day I hear it all the time…

How to fight loneliness
Smile all the time
Shine your teeth to meaningless
And sharpen them with lies

And whatever is going down
Will you follow around
That's how you fight loneliness

You laugh at every joke
Drag your blanket blindly
Fill your heart with smoke
And the first thing that you want
Will be the last thing you'll ever need

That's how you fight it
Just smile all the time
Just smile all the time
Just smile all the time
Just smile all the time

Sincerely, Mr. Moustache

Like a Dog without a bone and acting on your own

February,12th

“There’s always an explanation, my friend. And if there’s not, it doesn’t mean we are in front of a miracle. We are seeing our ignorance instead. It means we are not in conditions to understand the reasons of the phenomenon yet.”_{Valerio Massimo Manfredi}

Evening. The sun keeps staring at me. Round and orange. The same fat old sun that long time ago illuminated Alexander Magnus on his way to the end of the world. Cows eating grass. A Skunk, rolled over by a car, gathered by the side of the route. One light post, two light posts, Three light posts, and the counting continues until you yawn and start feeling drowsy…

“You are now entering to hell, Population  39.847.948 lost souls”

And the sun got red and rest on his half now. And old and abandoned chapel. There´s a lake of fire going on the opposite direction. Sulphure in the air. Gas station at 1000 meters. “we own your future” a sign prays. They own my future. They own our future. And of course there could not be hell without a Mc Donalds. “Our Big mac is to die for”.

Quilmes 800 meters. Finally. This is the end, my friend this is the end of my trip. There’s a killer on the road but it doesn’t matter. Because, you know, This is my town.

Sincerely, Mr. Mostache

Run rabbit run, dig that hole in the sun…

February, 6th

There´s an old woman in the middle of the roundabout. She stares at me. She doesn't´t even blink. My head becomes to feel sick. My legs trembled and fall, like leaves on an autumn tree. And gets closer. And closer. And closer.

Now my room is a cold and quiet cave. Full of dust and darkness. Outside the half-moon threatens to disappear in any moment. A cool wind blows my hair away from my face. Suddenly, A guitar starts from nowhere. And I got Goosebumps. “Hello, it´s there anybody in there? just nod if you can hear me? is there anyone at home?”     I try to shout but I can’t.  “ I hear you’re feeling down, Well I can ease your pain Get you on you feet again”  And the fever continues burning my head out, 42° Degrees and continues growing up. “Ok just a little pinprick” AAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!  I feel little sick. I can’t stand up…

But now there is no pain and I’m receding, a distant ship, smoke on the horizon. You are only coming through in waves. Your lips move, But I can hear what you’re saying. When I was a child I caught a fleeting glimpse out of the corner of my eye. I turned to look but it was gone, I cannot put my finger on it now, The child is grown, the dream is gone….

  Good people go to Hell because they can't forgive themselves. I know I can't. But I can forgive you. What´s the reason for going to heaven if you’re far away from me?

Sincerely,The  Walrus