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Sunday afternoon.

not change much in reality for me whether it is Sunday. When I lived in Italy meant Sunday Mass with the family, the aroma of roast just wake up, big lunch. After the sweet escape secretly to go to the computer. It also meant hugs in the living room watching TV, the game, the polenta.

Here it means if all goes well, a trip to Brick Lane and Spitalfields, before going to work.

London today is gray and bitterly cold, the work seems to be all quiet and I have time to write.
A strange mood today. In the middle between the "to want to just stay huddled under the covers and the desire to be happy" . `That is a strange mood, which among other things I can not afford it, since I have a job where contact with people is the order of minute. Should I be anything but moody, but, well you know, I am.

I'm greeted friends in return for Italy. Nothing to say, do not ever get used to goodbyes. Although visits are a matter of days, even if they are old friends, but my dear friend factor Heart always intervenes.

concert last night and the usual clumsy, I have remedied an elbow in the jaw, obviously on the side of the tooth right out. I had a moment of panic when I could not more to aprirela mouth. Now still aches, but nothing impressive. Evening

not at the top, just as capable of almost bored to a concert, incredible. For the rest

usual, grudges, memories, thoughts, hurt, but I do not know what this account again.

I took the spade in his hand and started shoveling. I do not know exactly what you're shoveling, I'm that I'm covering the hole. Sometimes a mole peeping out from under the `and then my efforts seem futile. Cover, cover, cover. Disguise, here is this seems to have become my favorite word. Especially in times of mental processes and flights of fancy make you believe you're living the life of someone else. Trip. Film. How to be separated from your body and see everything from outside.

Needless to substances, but personal sensitivity.

When I give in error, I stop and let the weeds grow here is the moment of collapse. All lost sense, the rest is over and you just want to disappear, annihilated, reduced to a ghost. One does evil knowingly, recklessly and violently. To hear the usual things, you lose respect and dignity for themselves, it makes no sense, first of all if you do not have respect or do not have it as you want.

Playing with words, have always been good. Put them in unusual order, tasting, chewing sounds of obsolete words, without a writing style that creates pleasure, but writing a dark, always as a remedy of my stirring, swirling eclissanti of my words, not one to write for others.

Writing saved me, I save and will continue to do so.

I started to bring my notebooks and pens, the desire for urgent relief.

Thursday, it began holidays. Saturday, New York.

Amen.