Nagging doubts No 50. Torn inside.........

Sunday...

It is sunny, it is bright, it is quite warm in comparison with the previous week, it is the very first day of spring but i am fu**ing depressed and I dunno why...

CK says:
morning did u have good sleep?

Volan says:
not really

Volan says:
what about you?

CK says:
you will be ok

CK says:
i didnt do anything today weasted my sunday

CK says:
weast

CK says:
waist?

Volan says:
wasted

Volan says:
Who cares?

Yes CK I did not have a good sleep, and I picked up my matress and i found a dead rat, a horrible stain right at the bottom of the matress (our blood i guess...remember?) and fur from the cat, I saw your name written down on the wall in Katakana characters using markers in various colours, -also there are some child-like flowers scribbled beside it- and I just turned back avoiding that name that lives nine hours from here. Yes I am listening to Chucho Valdes and not that song from Waterloo sunset. I like waterloo, and the river and the breeze and the rolly on my mouth an a beer and the time that has long gone... ... ... I gave up smoking, and I am far from waterloo, far from you and far from myself.

Comments

Anonymous said…

Volan also says:
i have been thinking about you all day today.why is that?

now i know exactly why.

1:11 PM

Volan's last will.

This is a picture of the envelope I received. On September the 29th I received a letter sent from London Metropolitan Police’s forensic department. The envelope contains Volan’s death report. I am still recovering from such a terrible moment. As Volan’s closest (and perhaps sole) friend I am in the obligation of publishing these lines on his own blog, as it was his last will. In strange circumstances my dearest friend Volan passed away in the dawn of the 23rd of September in Homerton Hospital in London. His body was carted off from the churchyard of Saint Paul’s Cathedral after a mad night out with Siobhan (Sweeny), -an Irish-Scottish blues singer whose Volan had just met few hours before in the surrounding areas of Anexo Bar, close to Farringdon Station. At the moment that the ambulance arrived at the place Volan showed a critical state and almost without vital signals dying a while after indoors, in the above mentioned hospital. The death certificated shows a very cryptic language ...

norman mclaren

Norman McLaren was one of the most significant abstract filmmakers of the British inter-war period. Born in 1914 in Stirling, Scotland, he entered the Glasgow School of Fine Arts in 1932, where he became interested in film and joined the School's Kine Society. His earliest extant film, Seven Till Five (1933), a "day in the life of an art school", was clearly influenced by Eisenstein and displays a strongly formalist attitude. (more)

Siete cosas que nadie sabe de mi... (conque puedo mentir)

Aceptando la tarea que gloqui me dejo en la cajita de mensajes me dispongo a enumerar siete secretos que nadie sabe sobre mi (de saberlo no serian secretos). Para empezar, estuve dandole una mirada a los siete secretos de otros blogeros y la verdad la mayoria terminan siendo un listado de "siete cosas" que me gustan o no, o "siete caracteristicas de mi personalidad". Asi que para dejarnos de bobadas voy a revelar "siete cosas que mucha gente no sabe de mi" (teniendo en cuenta que el 99.9999% de los blogeros no me conocen en persona pues tampoco me afecta demasiado el resultado de estas terribles revelaciones -menos interesantes que las de la Virgen de Fatima pero mas trascendentales en mi vida cotidiana. Here I go.... 1. Soy dislexico desde chiquito. 2. Las mujeres con la que he estado alguna vez en mi vida ya estan felizmente casadas y tiene hijos y hogares estables. 3. Estuve preso por 48 horas. La razon no es importante, sin embargo no me arrepiento....

Nevermind the bollocks!

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