Perfect Little Worlds

Written on April the 5th 2009.

Eels - Souljacker Pt. 1 [Souljacker]

Since i couldn’t sleep I decided that I maybe could write a Little bit what’s on my mind right now… don’t know if this is going into my blog and i certainly don’t know why am i not writing in my natural and beloved language, but anyways, here it goes.

I keep imagining these perfect little worlds, where everything fits right in its spot, no failures, no surprises, just round and glassy bubbles of flashy and shiny logic. I don’t know nothing about perfection, perfection may be a state of mind or maybe just shattered realities, little pieces of glass spread on the floor, dancing and singing while they fall down into an infinite randomness, and once they’re there, lying on the floor, they start laughing, staring at you, waiting for your naked feet to step on them.

Still, how could I possibly not dream about these little perfect, round and shiny worlds? How could I possibly let them pass in front of me, like this colored waves that I can’t take off my head, this soup of oily, dense colors that keep me up at night?

Truth may be told, I only dream of future stuff, I don’t regret a shit on my past, it simply does not worth it. When I dream about the future there are some constant values on my dreams, there’s always a girl of course, sometimes she’s a girl from my actual life, sometimes she’s a girl from the past, sometimes she’s a girl I don’t even know, sometimes I just pick a face I know and give her a random name and a random history. Is that real enough?

There are usually some landscapes too, I don’t pay attention to them, but they are there, static, glued to the background like little stickers. Urban landscapes mostly. Smelly, soundy, dark and perpetual cities of dust, people with blank faces, walking every day the same road with the same shoes, the same suit and the same tie, the only difference is that some of them wear watches once in a while, maybe they don’t want to get lost in this big four dimensional sea of madness and dementia.

But still this worlds are perfect, with the perfect girl and the perfect landscape, no music, no sounds, no motion, no sim cards, blurry actions that I can’t remember, am I wearing the same shoes? Am I tied to this zombie nation of hard working future robots who don’t complain and don’t dream, this perfect little world is just so imperfect… and maybe is not that futuristic either.

Sitting here in front of a fancy machine, typing up to here 444 words, waiting for the sun to come and gently tells me it’s time to step up from bed, take a bath, make some coffee, watch tv, update my Facebook status and type again… and type again, mechanical mornings coming, right now, perfect girl, perfect landscape… perfect little worlds.

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