Wednesday, October 7, 2009

Oggi ho avuto a che fare con il servizio di prenotazioni dell'Azienda Sanitaria di Venezia

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gSUrtIcuAhs&feature=PlayList&p=7FA854F069300711&playnext=1&playnext_from=PL&index=7

A Day In The Life

The front door opens while I’m in the can, taking a dump.

As you can imagine, I’m really focused, so I don’t mind the familiar sound of the old lock: four persons have the keys to the apartment and none of them right now have any business with me and even if they did...well, they’ll have to wait.

Anyway, I’m there and from the distance I can hear a voice I didn’t expect talking to the old man, my grandfather.

“Hey Dad! How are you doing?”

My uncle, the prodigal son, after -..i dunno...2 months?...- is back!

The 200 meters flat that separate his house from ours must have been very perilous lately...

Grampa is overwhelmed with joy, obviously.

I wait, crouching in the shadows (let’s put it that way...), listening, waiting for the reason why “the decider” has honored us with his presence.

“So how are kids and wife?” asks the old man.

“Good good, they might come to Venice for your b-day, so we can do it all together and” -i’m waiting for him to say “be done with it” but he doesn’t and, instead, he says “be all together”...not without a hint of embarassment for the poor choice of words.

He doesn’t sit.

I can “sense” him rummaging through the shelves where he keeps all his stuff, his scores and records.

Meanwhile grampa is firing questions at him, like he always does in this rare occasions: “you never know when i’m gonna see him again”.

I’m still in the middle of my task.

All the questions are half ignored and for the other half the answers are articulated from above the shoulder.

In my mind i’m thinking “he doesn’t have his viola, otherwise I would have heard him slamming the case against all the corners in the narrow entrance...so it means he’s not in a hurry, which leads to the conclusion that he came here on purpose and not just stopping by on his way to work...he’s here for a chat with his dad!”.

Immediatly I decide to wrap it up for a chance to have a chat with him, after all I haven’t seen him in a while aswell and I’d like to...do what?

“Let him know how much nothing you are currently doing with your life right now?”...not a very happy thought...

As if he could feel my head going back and forth with indecision, he says:

“Where’s Tommy, by the way?”

“Dunno...must be gone somewhere...haven’t seen him in a while”

Bless my grandad and his sclerosis.

At this point I decide to do my entrance on stage: who cares if he thinks I’m a slacker?

Most of the people I know, including my family, think i’m a slacker...I got quite used to it.

So I step out the bathroom with all the dignity I can muster...

And then I spot him, my uncle, going for the door, already on his way out of his obligations as a beloved son.

Already saturated with emotions he doesn’t have time for, apparently.

So I decide to call him.

“Hey! You leaving already?! Haven’t seen you in ages! How are you?”

“I’m good, everyone’s fine but i’m dead late for work...so i’m sorry but I gotta bail...”

“Where’s your viola?”

“Pardon?”

“Your viola. Or you switched to some other instrument lately?...”

These are the time I would love to know how to do the eyebrow thingy...but I can’t so it’s just a nosy question.

But it still shifted the balance of power: he’s gotta find a good reason now.

And he can’t.

He just stands there, with a weird smile, aching to get going.

I shake his hand and let his day go on normally, as if today we never met.

I'm tired of getting mad for other people flaws. Either that or full bold insanity by the age of 30.

When I go back in I see grampa on the phone, talking to my mother:

“Guess who just came to visit!? Your brother was here! Yes...he says hi...we had a good talk, now he’s gone to work...yes they are all good...they gonna come and visit for my b-day, isn’t that fantastic?”

They talk for ten minutes more or less...roughly three times more than the amount of time spent by my uncle on his “visit”.

That doesn’t fucking add up one bit.

He was litterally faster than my poop.