There’s another day outside my window and, I must tell, it looks horrible from here: when you have too much fun at night the morning can’t be too bright...or something like that...right?

Anyway, even the Sun can’t make it up for the infamous “one too many” so I turned to music, to soothe my brain.

In the long run they say music therapy can work miracles: well, try to put something on to ease the hammering in your skull and, beacause you are too dumb to admit it, the shuffle goes straight to Rammstein, like your pc has some sort of hidden agenda against you “you left me on for a week you bastard! take this you hangover sonofawhore!”

And bang! Your headache multiplies!

Just one intro of a song can turn your day around.

Mine was turned into shit. Not that I don’t like Rammstein, it just wasn’t the right time...

I’m not here to talk about that, though.

I’m here because this morning I’ve witnessed something that stuck with me, even if I was still in that fase of the sleeping process when everything mixes up, dream and reality, and you can’t tell them apart so either you discard them or you obsess over it for a day.

Long story short, anyway: somebody was trying to play a prank on me while I was asleep (cowards), a prank so bold that involved reaching me through my window from the outside.

Some seriously elaborate prank.

The thing that made me stay still though, instead of rushing to the window and probably stumble over on my way there, missing my chance to yell “I’ve seen you! I know you! getouttahere!”, was that the two of them were not arguing over whether to do it or not, they were deciding WHAT to do.

What the fuck does that mean?

They were just passing by and suddenly one of them alted and said “hey! I gotta a fever! and the only prescription is to do a prank to the one sleeping behind this window!” and the other one went “all right!....what do we do?” ?

I’ve done some stupid prank in my life, mostly harmless, some not so much BUT I always had in mind what to do before setting of to actually do it: usually I just did what I was planning to do to the first person nearby.

That’s how it works, right?

You hang a bucket full of something, maybe not acid, over the door and wait for the FIRST one to enter: the thrill is also in the possibility that the person who’s going to walk through that door is going to walk all over your sorry ass afterwards.

Anyway, I was lying there in bed, hearing these two deuches going “hey, I got it, we throw shit in and run!” - “Nah...too obvious, I want something better!” - “Yeah....you are right! Something really really nasty!”.

I know I already said it but, again: what the fuck? “Something really really nasty”??

Come on! For real??

I started wondering then: why are these guys so angry with me they reckon throwing dog shit in my bedroom is not nasty enough??

Do I actually have enemies? Like in tv series and movies? What did I do to deserve those kind of idiots for enemies?

Some dictator, maybe that little prick of Mussolini, said “many enemies, much honor”, or something like that: well, I don’t know you guys but, if it helps from having people throwing shit inside my house, I would gladly choose to be friends with everybody, even deuchebags, BUT I would still go out there and make ‘em eat that shit (in a friendly fashion) if they decide to do it anyway.

Or maybe at night it’s just wise to keep my dear window closed, to keep the two worlds separate.

When dream and reality collide weird shit can happen, especially in your head, but that's normal...unless you push your luck and you leave your ass exposed for some cretins to mess around with you when you can do jack about it...

SAY NO TO CRETINS! CLOSE YOUR WINDOWS WHEN YOU SLEEP!

I guess that's it for today, i'm too miserable right now to think straight so I'll see you some other time from my window.

Long Live the Solar Federation (until we are all eaten by Andromeda, that is...).

welcome to the window on the ground floor

Good morning everybody, I'm the inhabitant of the ground floor window in the Most Improbable City in the World: every morning I can hear the news from people going to work; during lunch time I can enjoy debates about how the world is going crazy (and of course how to profit from it, but shush please....it's a secret!) and every evening I hear the tasty tales of nasty bosses and the broken hopes of witty employees and naughty co-workers.

The seasonal mutation of the landscape outside my beloved window is dictated by the humanity that fills it every day and as this summer loosen its heat-grip on the land I can have my entartainment back.

Watching unseen and listening unheard: what a perv!

Mind your own business!

Right?

Wrong.

Overhearing is not a crime, shouting on the street is a sign of poor education...or drunkness.

In my city we have plenty of both: in the morning, in the afternoon, in the evening, by night, employed, unemployed, shaven, dirty, goodlooking and ugly.

Never seen a leprechaun but I've seen many many trolls.

I haven't heard all their stories but I've heard enough of them to tell you this: right now is more about work and making money than ever before.

Time is money; talk is money; silence is money; weather is money; poverty is money; sickness is A LOT of money; MONEY IS MONEY!

Being an unemployed blogger I have loads of time to spend and the second thing I like the most, after looking out of my window, is to know what other countries think of my country, so I read some newspapers from around the world and guess what did I find today on "The New York Times" online?

That's right: cancer and free clinics, one article after the other, showing in few lines how messed up is the system we live in.

One says, roughly, that a (pardon my french) shit-load of money is poured into drugs research that are, basically, not as much effective as their price should suggest; the other says that a clinic in Milwaukee, that ACTUALLY helps people's lives, is going to be left to....well...die, just because in Washington (and that's just A capital of A nation, do not forget) nobody really cares and probably because nobody of those in charge have some relative in treatment in that abovementioned free clinic.

Now, I may have the facts all wrong, I'm not saying I'm speaking the absolute truth but there is one detail I really don't get, a relation between federal regulated (I'm talking in international terms, with "federal" I mean also "national", for those who don't live in a federal state) medical care and prescription drugs: one is provided by the national health care, and more often than not is quite expensive, the others are produced by private companies and, more often than not, their selling prices do not match AT ALL the results.

Are the pharmaceutical enterprises intentioned to stretch a lot more the concept "you can't put a price on hope"?

Because to me it seems they are riding that horse hard and quite undisturbed by those who close free clinics for insolvency.

Why the Hell the health-care system in almost every nation in the world is always on the brinck of collapse while those who produce the very drugs that are distributed in and by the medical network are bathing in money like Scrooge McDuck?

Aren't they both essential parts of the very same indispensable machine?

To me it doesn't make any sense at all but, then again, I am an unemployed blogger who just stares out of his window.

Anyway, I hope to hear something less gloomy from my window tomorrow.

Goodbye fellows