Misantropía AND INFORMATION
Something is changing. I notice in the streets, people in the insane pace that I submit my day to day. Well, that's not the insane pace of everyday life seems to be little that does not change, but I think that little by little, I'm forcing the compass responds to the rhythms that I like. Although it's definitely something in me is changing.
For one thing, people no longer presents as before, but with a "have you heard about" ... "?". To which I usually reply, "So it does not, really. What happened? ". And then I get a lecture on a great uprising or a political megalomaniac delusions useless and corrupt which is not bad to be informed. The trouble is that sometimes precedes this particular greeting to a tedious personal history, many times in bad taste, or a banal story of famosotes a country proud of its vulgarity and ignorance. For example, it is not uncommon these days try to take refuge in cafes and public places smoke-free in the past would have assumed my "Fortress of Solitude" to meet the most varied selection of ... how to call? Is it undesirable, due to their low sex appeal? No, I think, the best for these cases is to determine a generic name consists of initials, that would be best. Say, These individuals may be called saboteurs of good cheer, and as his is nag saboteurs am approaching when your mind wanders sleeping places to ask "have you heard about "..."?. To which I answer, invariably, "Well, it does not, really. What happened? ".
And so slowly beginning to understand that walk in this world and lost in fantasies tied to knowledge almost superfluous , losing the freshness of touch with popular culture. Luckily I can still have these saboteurs of good vibes to inform me, almost in a state of shock for my ignorance becomings of this worldly place! The trouble is that, fortunately or unfortunately, with the internet, I used to click on another link when something does not interest me and I can not do it with people, you have to weather the storm and smile, trying to remember all those phrases that are not reducible to a state of facebook or 160 characters.
To be precise I should say that about everyone. Some of these intruders in the morning decorating your news with words, for some time, only find in the pages of some books and on their lips , and pauses of his speeches are peppered with knowing smiles, the kind that make you blush and bite your lower lip with the liberating feeling of an idealist, again. Tell people that count, they recite their experiences and declaim the aftertaste that leaves the ink in the newspapers on their palates, to finish the morning coffee. Further, different cut, seem to live inside my head, ending phrases that acted and bringing in the mud-stained fingers of the way, forgotten treasures with which to create a different world from that reality shows me a world dungeons, trumpets, these pop songs of looking at the toes while dancing and tea tastings minigalerías avant-garde art.
Other, more Surprisingly, silent, still, barely breathing in their bubbles while I walk between their lives. Oblivious to the outside, they move in a graceful but distant, like photos or profiles on social networking, waiting for the right time to break the silence and begin to move in three dimensions, with clumsiness but with aplomb, for finally daring greeted with a shy "hello" from the old school.
And when I think of all my misanthropy is softened a bit and makes me want to cut my hair to Joan of Arc to face a host of demagogues such unbearable saboteurs of good cheer and, finally, say hello to a: "Have you heard about Josele Santiago?" to see how they have left the body.
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