I realize I can’t stalking people on Facebook because now everybody uses Instagram.
I don’t have Instagram. I thought was just for pictures and I never take pictures.
I don’t believe in allergies.
Doctors are bullshit.
I believe the old way medicine: complains and cigarettes.
I still romantic and romanticism is dead nowadays.
I like to get to the point: if you don’t wanna sleep with me, that’s the door.
I used to have back pain once a year.
Now I have a monthly back pain: every 4 weeks it changes place, from the bottom to the shoulders.
I become to smell like mold on my back.
I should face the north so the mold will slide to my face.
My physiotherapist thinks I am a trunk.
Now my physiotherapist has a lumberjack as aide.
Girls avoid me like I was a terrorist. Not even the covered face works.
The jail isn’t so bad, but I rather stay single.
I’m responsible of my actions and I’m so pissed because of this.
I like the smell of tobacco’s pipe and cigars.
I hate those brats who are harassed by the smoke of my pipe.
10:30pm is a perfect time to get in bed and try to sleep.
But obviously those brats have to kick their footballs and play that awful music down of my window so I can’t get some proper rest. If they only could play some nice swing or jazz music…
Brats dress like clowns nowadays.
Thanks god there’s no more religion.
“I always did in this way, so why should be different now?” (quote)
At my usual bar I started to count 2 generations more than before… those brats…
“I can do whatever I want because I lived long enough to say so.” (quote)
Nonsense is spreading quickly in my brain, faster than ever.
But not as faster as my back pain.
A nice country for old men.
Progress is bullshit.
I don’t know how to use properly a phone. How do they call ‘em? Smartphone? It might be smart for you, but for me still stupid as those brats. Damn brats, with their stupid phones and that awful music.
I keep repeating myself a lot.
Progress is bull…wait…
The feeling of déjàvù increases every second. And that stupid doctor starts to call my short memory Alzheimer.
Doctors are bullsh… no, seriously. What’s that smell of mold?
Who am I?
Damn brats and their shitty music.