From one to zero

Life has no rules. You live it, you drink it roll it and smoke it. It’s like every addiction, only better. You think you’re fine without it, but who comes back from the grave to actually prove that? You’re still alive and you’re still lying in your bed trying to get some sleep. You can’t.

You’re dreaming without sleeping that someday you’ll wake up and be the best. How can you be number one in real life and most important, what do you need in order to be so? :A car, a plane, more money, a career, a horse, appreciation? The sack is deep. The writer is quite busy with figuring the purpose of himself, don’t interrupt. Tourmented by the thought that cigarettes may one day kill him before finding the answers ,he quickly gets back in his personal car, a black SUV with husky ketchup on the wheel and fresh odoured lizard bound to the windshield .He takes the bit and the buffet to his God without getting any edification. The Lord speaks:
“Dear son, don’t agitate that much, leave despair and you will find a way”.
“Dear God I don’t mean to be rude, but I need more details.”
So far the writer is an idiot, God is busy and as in real life, there must be a way to solve the problem on your own. Dear writer, you seem lost. Please lie down on your backseat , open your windows and breathe the fresh air, I am speaking right now and you don’t have to interrupt. No , we don’t have Coca-Cola up here, so shut up and listen.
The story starts with a plain yet sophisticated question :What is sacred? Of what is the spirit made? What is worth living for and what is worth dying for? Speaking as a mutual witness of life, with no body, no arms and eyes to see I carry the many stories of others and one particular one:

It’s about a girl meets boy. No romantic sugar powered love scenes and excessive remarks about how one loves the other and the other looks so good .

The Girl, Susan is a quite chubby routine about how to not shut up when someone is talking. Loudly annoying, but nasty, she learned from her parents that love is quite complex hitlerist reaction of the testosterone and estrogen. In “le cirque du freak “ she embraced the feeling of being alone, never talk about her feelings and fear when getting involved too much. Does not believe in marriage, loves hugs.
The Boy, Bob is no handsome Clark Gable, quite manly by hair distribution. He does overcompensate by the fact that he is acid and loves to annoy everybody. Charismatic at a first glimpse he tends to over exaggerate his power upon humanity and even fight God if dared. The limits are not his dearest friends, but he somehow manages to attract both sides to his evil plans to conquer the world.
We have the Hitlerist and Duncan Mc’Cloud falling in love at first hair. The story is harry, by the way.

Hitlerist: Bob? Who is Bob? Oh… I remember him, he’s an asshole. Ok, fine, his not that asshole, I was wrong, but he can be an idiot sometimes . Oh yes, we broke up, certainly. Why? I don’t remember, I mean, I remember something, it’s not that important. Oh ok, I’ll tell you. It was one rainy night and I was going to his place. I was going to pick up my laptop which was broke. He promised he’ll fix it, but of course he didn’t. Now it broke again, all because of his great fixing. After receiving my laptop, I instantly became one hell of a stupid player in the fanatic world of the “precious mind game ”. Because of the cruel intention to suck everything good in me for free I felt quite used and therefore annoyed. The best compliments he had was about my hooker lipstick. That’s what love gives you, the “you are nobody with interesting hooker lipstick” ID. What can you tell him? Either way, you’re not supposed to be happy if his ego is not fed and jiggled well. How do we meet? Why should we talk about this now? Oh… the article is about my story, I get it. The place is useless, I liked him, that’s what mattered. He had a way wearing fancy clothes to prove he’s one of a kind. His attitude was responsible and caring though his stupid big mouth chewed overconfidence and yada yada yada.I never listened, just loved to watch him pleading his case about nothing. He was tricky, that’s why I had to force him into taking his glove off and take my hand. Nice gloves I remember, leather.
How did I know it was love? That’s stupid! You never know, you just have an idea of what it might be, but sometimes you find nothing. I dream about having the perfect relationship with a guy and by the time I see him picking his nose, my story goes from book to blank. I guess that’s just the way things go. With him it was different. He was an executioner with good jokes. Loved that, masochism I guess. What did we like to do? Hmm.. tough question, he was my friend, done everything from stupid to idiotic to serious to gastronomic and so on. I enjoyed having lunch with him. His mother was a great cook, she didn’t like me, because I had dry anorexic hair.

How can I define him?
Nuts, but responsible, not very mature, but wise, good adviser has no idea what indulge means. If he was reading the article, he’d surely impugn my “indulge” usage. Why do I say that? Because I feel so .The best day I had with him? They all were to a certain extent, as long as there was no fighting and he was not playing the alpha male role. He was a great person sometimes. Why do I say so? Well because it’s true, I trust him . I remember me being sick with fever. He used to make excessive quantities of tea and mix them up with lemon. I hate tea so he had to chase me all around the house to make me drink it. I am a nutcase myself , I don’t argue that. The best moments were the nights we spend drinking beer and eating cheap unhealthy food while watching TV, especially politics, sometimes documentaries and movies. I always had some comments but, by the time I wanted to speak out loud, he was snoring like a bear. What did I dislike? I prefer not answering. Is it absolutely necessary? Oh I understand, well in this case. The despicable thing about this relationship is that it became a perpetual war of right and wrong. Instead of fighting for it, we fought against one another to prove that there is just one number one. How do I feel? Not proud. I am still facing everyday with guilt that I let myself ruled by this stupid game of honor. Any comments? Being number one in your life has nothing to do with the number one in relationships .


Duncan Mc’cloud: I don’t have the time to talk about that right now. What? No! She was great, a little bit fat, but great soul. She told you I was hairy? Interesting point coming from a problematic person regarding correct word usage. Not my problem. Yes we broke up, it wasn’t pleasant. What did I enjoy at her? Hmm.. her smile and the way she laughed. Her energy, her eyes. Now if you’ll excuse my impoliteness, I must go, here is my business card.

So there you go, dear writer. The story with quite an usual ending. Do you know how many bad-endings you face in your life? The infinite indefinite quantity .Do you dream on being number one?
How do you love and in fact is love there, to make things better? How about your dearest friends, your family, your lovers, your pets? Are they suffering because you don’t? The purpose excuses the motives quite sympathetically, but how rational is your brain in order to be number one on paper when in real relationships and humanity it’s quite a zero? Don’t believe me? Ask Mrs. Hitler and Mr. Duncan.