There’s a part of me you don’t know

And it’s neither OK nor the contrary.

Life’s got that.

You are just a pond, or a king, or a horsewoman.

I want to be an European filmmaker.

That’s my epic goal.

It’s just so damn dificult.

I’ve been ready for it for ages.

In the mean time I’ve been meaning to be other stuff. Every stuff. Just to fill up the 99 options I get to try.

I mean, who wouldn’t?

That’s my moto, or claim, or how ever the fuck you dicks call this kind of shit in the business school program.

Where do these buttons lead.

That’s the real literature. The hidden shit always works. Make a little selfreferential like Woody or Louis CK? To pump them up. The way they deserve. For real. This is for real. This is for real, guys. Guys. Common. Come. Calm. Down. Calm the fuck down. As Golman would say it.

Golman is this social conceptualization of the jewish real son of FatherGod. FatherGOD rules; period. Nobody refutes. FatherGod’s daydream. Silly, daddy. That’s judgemental seven year old clever spicy and rebelious soul in the search for all 99 answers. Imagine she’s got 999 days to figure this shit out. I’ve had many more cicles. I’ve been in doubt. And selfloath. And depression. As if nothing mattered, anymore. And knew, and/or, I don’t know, understood the highest pain I knew existed, cause I have taken the blindfold from my eyes. And now I see the world as is: a miracle. Us here. Altogether. To a same old salm: ALLS.

Amen has no songs. No songs of amens in the book of the Lord. Nor in the Church of England. I shall resolve this believing nonesense you persuade to go through ups and downs from the operational role of the queen and the well being of the people under my traditional comand. The queen rules. There’s a royal family to aknowledge and learn the pages of theis Hola! life. Life is life, we all know. Life. Shalalalalalalong, longlilonglongon. GOLman, ja-man. Ya, man. LLAMAN. Y uno atiende. ¿Sí, diga? Y la voz le dice a uno lo que hay que hacer. Así funciona Dios Hermano mayor/menor del mismísimo Jesús de Algeciras, comandante de la Guardia Civil en la lucha contra el narcotráfico. Aguanten las risas. Algo que funciona como una infiltración de toda la vida en las fuerzas y seguridad del estado para dejar pasar una coladera de kilogramos de cocaina y otras mierdas que encuentras, por alguna vía, en Ibiza, Sevilla, Ciudad Real, Albacete, Marbella, Gandia, Benidorm, Castelló, Sagunt. L’Espanya axí. S’altres Españas. Es recupera la eñe. Per a consideració de deliri col·lectiu envers lo que mola que l’eñe sigui defensada per a un nou poble lliure que ja no s’ha de varallar cada dos per tres. Pareu. Tots. Que no totes. Sou vosaltres, els fills de puta. No sou molts. Pero com emprenyeu. A les vostres families. Aquesta agresivitat masclista fins i tot a l’entorn dels que s’en surten cada més de sobres. I qué fem per la resta? Ón queda lo que podem afegir com a essers derrera d’un gest sencill que fem cadascun que dona resposta a un repte que llançem nosaltres al porvenir: un nou país en el que ja está tot resol: hem guanyat totes i tots, es espanyols cutres i els espanyols bons i angelicals. I uns 99 matiços particulars de cadascuna d’aquestes dues Espanyas que ens trobem a un programa de màxima audiencia en la televisió pública lliure de la nova república bananera. Tal dia com avui ens imaginem una fita més per a una historia que ens ha de permetre arrivar finalment totes i tots a Ìtaca. Or warever.

Life is this dual Spain is pain fantasy.

There’s a movie title.

I scripwrite in a maner in which everything and anything could be still be built up to higher comand during the shooting. At rehearsals. As if I was being the part where the decisions were taken by a single command. As we want the nature of our government to be, if this was selfcontained into a safe playing field where the actual red button is not as available as Air Force one attending a flight by the commander in chief. Something the king can actually do. Seeing him in real action would actually propel the job he was supposed to comand in front of this holiest of institutions: the laws and clubs of the ancient families of Spain. As if never to have been mixed with purely indigenous people from any of our lost colonies. This local fragance. As smelling feet.

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