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monkey

Slipping over the notes...

Wow... it's incredible how Jazz gets me sometimes... my concentration goes nuts, like my brain was flying to his long deserved holidays.
There you find me, relaxed, with a vertical perception of time.

The clock stops running his death circular race: it rotates around a random axis to recall past bits of long gone lifetime.

Maybe this mood Jazz brings along triggers some schizofrenic neuron in my hard skull, but it makes me feel in control over my past, brings to my mouth the delicious taste of meaningless stills.

Sometimes I feel ruled - oppressed, that is - by the desire of becoming immortal through some kind of special feat, but my very soul was never happy at that.

Immortality has nothing to do with here&now... living pursuing immortality is like wishing for more wishes... doesn't work and wastes the wish.

I like to shuffle the deck, to give cards and to play... I don't care whether I win or loose, 'coz no matter the outcome, the game ends.
Ending a game - enjoying success or whining over failure - won't make you immortal, but mark your death as a player.


I feel addicted at this strange game of life, and Jazz remembers me just that.

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monkey

March 2010

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