Sense of time

I don't know if that's a sign of my growing old, but as time goes by I tend to think that I'm loosing control of the flow of time. My life is sort of ordered, but at the same time, it's completely chaotic at the level of personal experience. Like now, I'm writing, and I don't know why I write or why I listen to downtempo tunes from Jazzmusique radio (tune it on iTunes radio).

I need milestones in my life. Or maybe not. A chick will do :p

Beer with ice (a poem)

I thought: "I want a beer".
I went to the kitchen.
I looked inside the fridge:
nothing, as I expected.

I opened a cabinet: four beers, warm.
I opened the freezer: ice.
I put the ice inside a glass:
glass full of ice.

I poured the beer into the glass:
beer with ice.
I am drinking beer with ice.

Home alone (reloaded)

Today I came back home only to realise I was home alone. "Fuck", I thought. I could have invited some chicks to have dinner and chat. Then I realised I had no chicks to invite.

So I did what every man who's been home alone has done some time or another: I put a CD on the hi-fi, turned the volume quite high, and went straight into the bathroom. It was wild, it was Eric Clapton playing Ain't gonna give up on love, from the CD A Tribute to Stevie Rai Vaughan. And well, I was about to get into the shower when I realised I just couldn't bother to listen to that heavenly guitar mixed with the noise of the water falling down my naked body.

So I step out of the shower, and planted myself before the hi-fi, right in the middle of the dinning hall. And man... I let myself go. Completely naked except for my dirty socks, I danced, I pretended I had a guitar on me, I pretended my hands were Clapton's. Louder, louder! I turned the volume up to the top. I was deaf. I was Eric. I sang, I moved, I danced. I felt every chord inside me, every string. I was laughing inside, I was so happy.

The song finished, and I shaved. Then I had a shower and treated my facial skin with some mostourizers and exfoliants from Nivea (there's no Lush around in Barcelona, and Body Shop just can't make it to me, pity) Ironically, as I prepared the dinner I changed to a TV station where they were showing Bridget Jones' Diary. Great movie. I ate smashed potatoes and beef. I laid on the sofa. I smoked. Bridget smiled.

What a great life, being single. Wait for me, Bridget. We're still too young.

Funny friends

I have funny friends, I can't deny it. Here's a piece from jOjO, who took it from -p:

A weekend of food and sleep

This weekend I slept around 25 hours in two days. And I had the following food:

-two plates of jabugo ham
-two plates of sea food paella
-8 pieces of barbecue lamb
-3 baked potatoes
-lots of salad and several pork delicatessen
-a sort of calzone filled with spinach and things I don't know how to name
-just picked vegetables, including beans, peas, asparragus and wild onions
-three plates of macarroni with meat and cheese (made by my grandma, man!)
-loads of lobster
-roast beef
-smashed potatoes and baked apples
-a good bowl of fruit salad (straberries and banana)
-cake (two kinds of, including the famous "chocolate and banana cake" that -a likes so much she would kill for it)
-a crepe of beichamel, onion and bacon
-several glasses of red wine
-a mojito

Man, I'm so full.