Hi. I am Golman.
Diaries. You know. They keep you hooked. It’s one of my favorite things to do. Be here: writing.
You are alone.
Good.
Life is good when you conect your ideas with typing.
On a keyboard.
Guess what?
I have one here.
So I write.
No we all write.
But what’s good; what’s bad.
How good am I?
Should I come out?
I think I am good enough.
I know people.
They know people.
It’s all about a social network.
A new one.
Be this it.
You and me.
No bullshit marketing.
I am who I’ve been.
I’ve been here.
You know I have… or you don’t.
You don’t have a clue of who I am. Normal. People don’t know the whole world. Guess what? Now they do. They can know you more than you can know them. Unless you really have a great capacity to let go. And your reach out. As far as infinity goes.
But, infinity… common. Really? You fucking kidding me? The absurdity of the thought… how did you let it out? Really… I want to know.
You piss yourself off. It’s you character. Know the drill. We are all writers of this one alternative: to write fictional roles that ablazes ourselves. Out of depression. And dealing with life. The good people up there. Playing the high rollers game. The joy of the nine nicest places to dine tonight. And you are there. Somehow. Doing your shit. And people knew you. Sort of. Like a mistery man. A sort of Sugar Man from the tropical lands. You go out to fiction and imagine nine reigns. Pick nine real places you’d love to be at. And you make that place somehow a better place. Respecfully. As much one can as a visitor from way the fuck on the other side of are. Or the regular neighborgs. Who we love/hate.
I learned duality in life. Not in school. We have two hemispheres in our heads and we don’t aknowledge what each side does. Or how our brain defines us.
Two dogs bark at each other. The show their teeth. And people stare. And strangers went by public space tonight. Out here. In my streets.
The streets in my land are mine. It’s an urbanstory that turns into a long narrative in the woods of Scotland and Elizondo. I won’t be needing further mountains from the rest of Geography.
I learned about the Mont Blanc by trying to reach it in a tour my aunt thought was a good idea at the time. Go from Geneva to Mont Blanc and back in the same day. Conquering the Alps. I was going to go to Andorra and back to Raval in public transportation. make my way up the mountain high. An imposible quest. A thing I would do now. To walk to the top of the mountain from urban New Gotic heart.
Something down here is changing. I have to go. I am not welcome here. We need to go out into the mountain. And I go.
I go.
I am not just saying it.
I will go.
We all will.
And that’s a delight.
A gift.
A thing to do.
A quest to move.
Something new.
A new social revolution.
The so expected one.
Tonight.
From this new capital of the nine chosen cities: New Barcino.
There is a transparent way to choose the nine cities that were chosen with total aleatory rules.
No certainty.
Only a fair choice.
A new game.
From another angle.
Just to come to terms with time-space.
At least this once.
But we decided to change all rules.
All of them.
No sovereignty of anything.
Anarchy loop.
Oh GOD, please come…
HE never shows up.
But SHE…
…
…
…
…
…
…
…
…
…
Then she comes. As she comes.
And life is listening to better music. Better lyrics. Better ways to connect with the highest ride. A live concert in a festival where this band makes sing the song that binds us to tha soul: ALLS.
I’ve got to go take the night… with the Barcelona Superheroes!