bLOGBOOK - The Laughing Stock, n° 1 year III

 Good evening. Or good night. Or whatever... Anyway, hello folks!
I start feeling a light sore throat. Nothing new, it was only question of time, especially when everybody is sick. But it was not from here I wanted to start. There are a lot of think to talk about and I had to do it starting from my sore throat: what a poor fantasy man am I? Of course not an original one. Is there anything more ordinary than talking about health? Maybe the weather. It's cold here in Brussels. There was some snow, not so many days ago. But why am I writing all that? Oh  yes, I needed to free the brain from thoughts. I still don't feel like writing, communicating, working, going out, meeting people... What do I feel like, then? Good question. I don't know. I don't feel like searching for another job, that's something I know for sure. But the point there are no many alternatives, which means I have no choice. So I had to put again my hands to applications, and it's nothing but the beginning. Last month I was not even able to cover the cost of the rent: Jesus, I need an exit strategy. Ok: health, weather, work. Is all there what I can say? Come on, let's say something about myself. I still have a life after all. Ok, maybe not one of the best, but still a life. Still life. Ah, forget about these stupid word games. I'll spend my Easter holidays in Brussels, but the week before I'm supposed to be in Prague. I clarified I'm supposed to be because they already change the departure time. Let's keep our fingers crossed... Unfortunately I won't join my friend in Bratislava. There were no flights at last, not that kind of connections I need, and by bus it would even worse. No way, I'll miss you guys. I'll have to listen to your reports, and I'm ready to bet would be really funny.

From another missed travel to another. Berlin was there, what was not is an Italian system completely out of the world. Once there are somebody ready and available to cover all the travel costs, newspapers are not interested to write about something of great national interests. Question of priorities, they would explain if you ask why not to go to Berlin for an in-depth reportage on landfills, a very sensible topic for a country like Italy. Sometimes I've the impression to waste my time. Sometimes... I would say more often. What would I like to do? That is the question I cannot answer. Journalism is something without any more fascination, a job without any perspective, so maybe it's time to search for something else. The point is what.
Music is perhaps the only therapy possible in this situation. I listened to an Italian song I listened last time I visited my friends: it was the same song used as a soundtrack for a the night I saw Francesco last time. Now he's in the US, hopefully in a better and better situation. I'm sorry for having missing the opportunity to fly to Berlin, it could be a chance to meet Federica. WTF guys, how is it possible are we all abroad? Unbelievable! I can't say now when I will see you again, but my agenda clearly sets a path. Maybe for mid April I'll fly to Italy, so I'll can hug... One... Two... Three... Four... Uhmm, I'll can hug not so many people. I'll thing about at the proper moment. Now it's time to have some remedy for sore throat.