31x10.5x15 On Jeep Rims

snurg?

Terry Pratchett.
an already-wrinkled her nose to the label "fantasy", even if you add too classification comical / insane, even those who like the top of its list of three readings MSC feels for the first time in his life every right to do the inellettuale snob.
And of course, but our stupid fantasy comic writer demenziae invented one of the most beautiful concepts that can give birth to the human mind: the snurg
The total sobriety, see the reality as it really is, it's scary.
realizing the futility of all the famous time flowing like sand in an hourglass and blablabla.
dull, retract?
obvious, but dramatically true.
And it is true that we have drunk of something if you want to survive there as
Captain Vimes Alcohol is drunk, and I think choosing a simple, quick and quite painless and fun if you do not exaggerate.

Some people get drunk to work, who shops, who makes a barrel. A

guardamri around, I think that love is more widespread drunkenness
A big and beautiful illusion, I say.
seeming to assume that men are a lot, but quite complicated in their mental processes, and that it is impossible to understand each other well even to themselves in a desperate attempt to try to understand another person, the person you love, there is really that engaging the brain to forget even to go to process, let alone if it can also infect snurg only three neurons.
But the "grand illusion" is not so much this, but, rather, hope that the other to understand you.
I said, it is difficult to understand yourself, what would be nice to have a book istuzioni and someone who not only knows what you want, but YOU DO YOU GET.
Can not you see? avvicendevolmente you try another that is impossible to do for ourselves.
"saddle to myself "is really something so absurd in light of all this?

And snurg? think that I shall be immune from the top of my rationality?
But not so fast!
In fact, just for the dream !
My antidote to snurg is exactly my head, my world and my imagination.
unceasing and tireless dreamer, is a modern-day Madame Bovary, the antieroina par excellence, the one who thinks, thinks and does not make a damn about anything.
God only knows how much I miss writing, but every time my thoughts take on the sharp boundaries of a letter I can not deny what they are: poor, vapid, meaningless, useless.
Snurg
I say that I am very spiritual, that I can not get attached to anything material.
Probable: I live in a deep coma dream, and all I ask is, please, do not wake up.
I will go without too much disturbed.