Kicking things off with what's really important.

Ladies and gentlemen, I present you with the better blood in Le Gab's Family:
iamfeline


Images you should consider seeing:
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Aaaaand many others.

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So, uhm, yeah, it's not yet "A night at the Howard Johnson". I'm keeping that for a special time. Yeah, i know, if you knew it like i know it it would put a smile on your face as well.

For all the non believers and not-know-ers out there, tag along with me for 15, maybe 20 years and i promise I'll explain what's the deal with the above words.

This evening, while puking my soul on the cold pavement downtown, cursing the very fabric that binds us together and hating every inch of eyesight that came in contact with my blurry vision i was simply hovering through the glass like cold and... well, nothing. Nothing happened. There i was, surrounded by millions of stop frames, passing by me. Everything was standing and i was walking by, tearing apart bits and pieces of what was left holding me together. 2 cigarets in my pocket, cold as fuck, running on empty in patience and understanding. I think i was just missing the bloody fire and methane flames behind me and the picture would have been perfect.

It felt like every step i took was hurting each bone, muscle and hair on my body. However, i was being driven by this strange thought that if i stop the whole fucking world would come to crumbles and I'd eventually go down with it.

So i stopped. Just for a second, my left wanted to play jokes on my right. Just to point out how fucked up i was. Just stood still for a second to check if the world was disintegrating. Light up one of the remaining cigarettes and thought "fuck, i'm almost out." Had 10 ron in my pocket, but with no surprise i realized i wasnt really in the mood of having to interact with someone for anything at that point. Here i am, enjoying a cigarette and hating everything else around.

And so, by divine intervention I raise my head, and there it was. What was? The fucking Howard Johnson. So i take the phone out of my pocket and dial. And there it is. The voice i came to love as lucidity.
"Bon soir!" i say, somewhat doubtful.

The cigarette was starting to burn my frozen fingers so threw it away and got on the first bus that stopped.

Eventually i had to also get off it when i realized i was in the fucking wrong bus, but that was not really the point. The point was, i was talking and i was listening.

Finished the conversation after something like half an hour. By that time i was already entering my house.

So i put the phone on the table it it strikes me. I was so decided to hate everything around, just to keep myself safe and indifferent and I ended up hating myself.

Is it gone? Not yet.
Will it go away? Most likely.

So, there... Thank you, Red'!
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All of the above are bits and pieces of Le Life. If you don't get what I'm saying in there, well, thank you for reading, you can now go watch telly. I'm usually writing for persons in particular, be that person myself. Yeah, i know, it seems selfish.