Wednesday, September 22, 2010

Letter For Appartment



Via, mi sono rotto. Cambiamo per l'ennesima volta questo blog. L'attualità non è attuale è sempre la stessa minestra, la satira non funziona nemmeno a tirarmi su il morale. Ma fortuna che c'è this Blogg. I have no readers. The fact of not having readers is a great advantage. The advantage of those that can write whatever the fuck they like so no one will do anything.
This morning I woke with this fear and not feel like work. I'm not one who works or just trying to avoid fatigue. But the persistent idea now that the result of my labor is not beneficial to anybody takes my desire. The question that sticks in me head this morning at 7:14 local time is as follows. Why was condemned to be a slave? Ok, exaggerating a slave? Anyone reading this page might say .. Mr. Dema, top with the words! It 's true slavery was abolished democracy has taken hold in most of the world West to which I belong, and freedom has triumphed to the point that the government of the people of my country's freedom. What the hell should I complain? And after this thought I will plant in the head like a persistent continuous ticking the second question. Why should I be governed? .... About ten seconds of silence is a must in the face of such a request. I believe that most of my contemporaries has never even post the question. And when someone asks? Here, asking this question because the emptiness of thought that is in between .. we must be governed and sheep because we do not have a clue how to do a live ... (Which is disturbing and difficult to be recognized for questo difficile da dire) ..e .. cazzo sai che non ci avevo mai pensato? A chi si pone questa seconda domanda mi piacerebbe parlare. Con lui mi piacerebbe passare una decina di minuti a discorrere di questo. Perchè chi si è rassegnato ad essere pecora bisognosa del pastore non ho niente da dire. Ma al secondo a colui che ha spento la ragione, che ha barattato la logica con un misero stipendio, a quello che ha abbracciato le regole di questo gioco del governato e del governante fingendo che sia democratico passatampo a quello che ha regalato la sua libertà al miglior offerente intederei parlare. Ma non in questa sede e ci vorrebbe davvero troppo tempo e poi francamente non so quanti starebbero all'ascolto.
Questo pensiero mi ricatapulta immediatamente in my place. In my city, stuck in my office at my desk in front of my usual phone .. waiting for the trill .. I look at it ... has an odd shape. It seems hostile and reassuring at the same time. It looks kind of beautiful woman and very dangerous. Reassuring to hear the ringing, reassures the stale calm inherited not know who to feel safe because it still has a job. Reassuring but does not answer my questions. Just makes more questions. E 'impassive. Same color same shape heading. All the same. Anyone who speaks the other side has the same voice. Do they exist? I mean the people that I speak every day at the other end of this item masterpiece of technology really exist? Sometimes I think they are just a diversion created only to give me something to do during the day. By whom? This is another question and we are three. To whom or what to use my strength every day? I do not know. It has no face. It 'an entity. I begin to doubt that he exists. But there or not, the perception exists and serves to reassure. It keeps everyone calm. Me, my colleagues and all my contemporaries. The presence of the great chief is to say ... sedative. Always serves. Three questions .. not even a response. And then there's the guilt. A sense of guilt ancient and violent. That's boring and bored quasiborghese keeping a job, a house has a normal life, which complains about his living conditions. He feels the absurdity reasoning only if I move my gaze outside my walls. My city of my country of my beloved and only the Western world. A place that I'm exactly in humanity? Another question .. damn .. perhaps this can give an answer .. I can try at least. I think high. Medium to high. Let's say that if humanity is measured by the inch, a centimeter long with a meter, this would make our brackets cm a tool that rightfully could be called METRO, I would be a sixty centimeters centimeter centimeters less. So I have my meter. I am aware of humanity. Pretend like you put it down and let him go up. At the bottom, near the floor, amid the dust and insects Who does it take? Try to put the poor. The poor ones real ones we see on television documentaries, the occasional travelers or tourists. Those who live in Africa. I wonder why the poor are all below the equator for us average people. But wait. The poor. Those who have nothing, do not have a job that does not have a government that did not state a national identity that does not even have much food, not having the money the money, perhaps they, I mean, you probably are not really what should stay on the floor. In other words, paradoxically retain a high degree of freedom. Institutions from dependency on the state by a sense of belonging to the race. Here, they probably would change position with prisoners. The prisoners. Concept a bit smoky, but there in the world, or at least I've heard, the poor prisoners. People who have nothing more than to not retain even that degree of freedom. They are prisoners, ghettoized, disabled, discrimination, displaced, sick, poor and different. All too many poor and forgotten. Here they are at floor level. Then come the poor but free above. Who have the illusion of a freedom which is nothing but instill the freedom to starve. Above, say about twenty inches from the floor, there are those who live in hardship. Who can pick up something to eat with gimmicks or lavorucci. In short, those who are desperately trying to fit in society in which I live, but they always do too much work. Those who want to say that they want a place to live. What a rush, and consume their lives in the hope one day to become part of this economic and social system which is called Western. These somewhat more distant from the dust but not too much aware of who is below them. Let's say you are more accustomed to looking up. There are many that are above. and they aspire to climb my meter placed on the floor. Let's say that back of the meter is a trend more or less widespread. Looking up people see who is just slightly above them. The most envious can see two or three steps above. But the trend is the same. Looking over these twenty centimeters tall can see their future neighbors. They are people already in the company that spends buy, with a bit of insecurity. 'm Not sure of their position. Wobble, but they are almost there to say to survival, therefore, almost happy. Proud maybe. They are the ones who have a desire for revenge exaggerated, but at the same time and perhaps to a greater extent have to worry about maintaining their position as not to slip below a decimetre. They are still considered almost poor. But start to have less and less freedom. They begin to sacrifice their freedom in the name of what makes them survive. As they begin to get used to the system for be well positioned in society must give up something of a meter. Not all do. Those who can not remain there, maybe go up a step in time, when they are too tired and old to enjoy other poterselo slip back below without accepting the rules of the game. Still others go up, go up the meter go up and stand as the only possible limit. Can I reach the top you say. This includes the right to life and begin to look only at higher and higher. They probably see me looking up. Here I am about forty inches from the ground. I just honestly feel higher. But in the end I did not pitch that bad. In this category we are many. Submissions for better or worse in the slop of companies that someone has built, perhaps more to the merits of birth and personal. To say his father's legacy. Here we consume our lives more or less being dependent on it. We have the vices of those who are above us, the luxuries we say and we share a bit precarious condition of those below us. Also ... we are dependent and subservient to those who are above. This is a novelty. From this point of the meter is manifested in this little creeping appeasement towards those who occupy a higher position ourselves in the social meter. I think this is the category with the largest group of misfits. People who do not know what they want. Do not know if he wants to jump up or a down. Do not know if its natural place in are or what company is the one below. Unfit for the world and always dependent on the powerful. Asleep moderately satisfied as far as possible have no reason to fight, they do not even survive. Wear out like a candle in a room where there is none. Useless. I am here. I'm eating too slowly, but even then. I look up and I do not feel revenge, I do not feel envy, do not try to reach stimulus steps above. I do not want progress in the social meter. I hate when I look above. When I look under .. I am embarrassed. But I. .. I'm a geek.