I know, I haven't talked yet about the thing that is occupying us all right now, filling our brains with thoughts that never even dabbed us once during the whole year.
Things like, this shit costs 50 bucks, it's pretty useless/disgusting/unfit/inappropriate/trivial, but, on the other hand, 50 bucks are enough. I'll take it.
Or things like, what if he/she gives me another of those shitty presents, should I compromise this year, like, I didn't give you crap this year, you see, so let's hope you don't crap me next, uh?
Or again, nobody is going even to touch this thing, there's too much to eat anyway, we don't need anything, God, think of all the people starving in the world, I'll take it just for the fucking show.

Well, it's a hard useless crazy time and we all know that. I don't believe much in the tradition and not at all in the religious idea behind it, but I'd fancy Xmas if it wasn't for the presents. This probably means I lost my childhood for good into me somewhere. My feeling is that I don't trust anymore what's inside the box, I mean, what's hidden behind the colored paper. In other words, I rip the paper, but my heart does not accelerate anymore.

I am not even going to mention the situation about my father and his expectancies on the whole thing. But thanks to Dennis Cooper I managed to say something about it anyway.

Happy Santa and stuff to you all people. Whatever that means to you. Love.

-- In picture, above: "One-hundred-thousand years of evolution and now I am walking here --- Thank your lucky star!!" exchange of writings, in Viale Sabotino, Milano