was a friend, if it can be defined, very special. The person who might know more conformist.
We met at a party where none of them knew the hosts, and many other contributors. In truth I do not know anyone who had invited me because he had not come. One of those parties
type open house where people of that time brought other people and so on, where they drank, they talked about philosophy, politics and remain silent, plastic, glass in hand, listening to what had gab better. Short stuff from college.
I was in the right hand a spritz that prepared me a girl known that night. At first glance it looked pretty, all excited chatter, big blue eyes rotating in their sockets. Really a nice pair of eyes. But then he smiled a bit 'too much of a taste to my line. In fact the joke was always laughing, the girls sganasciavano when told and then I used always to impress. How did he do? Bho now I remember most, however, was quite a fucking joke to pass out from laughter. The girl said, she is sganasciò well and showed me the mess in her mouth. A stuff! Small teeth and big gums. I also tried to overcome it but could not. You had to see it. A mule. I thought the poor man who would marry her. Think in the morning. "Hello love" just wake up and look at the woman who stands by you. Fortunately, a guy with glasses and combed bad thought it well to ask another so I could levarmela spritz away. One spritz of the rest was pure crap because you, the gengivona, never put more than one finger of prosecco. That stuff. Only one with those teeth would have thought such a thing.
I was at the table to find a bottle of sparkling wine to add two more fingers for the first time when I heard his voice.
- Try my Negroni, a spritz of Miss Annika is good but I think he lacks a little bit of prosecco.
We understood each other right away. He apologized for not introducing himself and putting his hand on my breast Oliver said he was called, but everyone called him Doc also saddled with a nickname I had at university, but I told him. I hated my nickname. Crazy. "Beware the get mad," "Look at the eyes." Leave trails of giggles from girls who kept books in the chest full of junk and university students with well-dressed and clean shaven. I asked him why not call him Doc, of course I thought he had already graduated, was definitely older than me, that indicate, but did not ask why I did not want anyone to join universities in the topic. In fact, for me those years were lousy. That stuff.
When you study literature and philosophy can happen to you two things. Or do you just graduate examinations and grind like a hay mower or anxious and you freak out because that bitch is a philosophy that takes you to freak out, at least to me. But I stayed with him on every time you entered vague topic. "Yes it's ok", "You know you study" "Schopenhauer is a force, but talk about the girls you saw the one with the boobs?". They change the subject, it seemed the right thing to do. One because of my business. Two bho! Short, there must always be an explanation for everything is not it?
Even before arriving there he did not know anyone but after half an hour already gave pats on the back to Rodrigo Marcel and the two tenants of the apartment and exchanged jokes related to those he met. That same evening he told me that if I was okay, we would see the next day at my house, "ok" I said and tracannai the glass in one gulp. Negroni that stuff that was really good.
that time I had a hobby. The two boys who shared the apartment with me, a drunkard who came from the Veneto, a Roman who stank so much, that sucks you had to hear that smell was coming from her room. A stuff. Those two mentally ill, I said, they had installed a satellite TV card with a pirate could see the football matches. We had to see. One with red eyes who drank wine and smadonnava sporcone in Venice and spread her legs with his dirty socks on the cabinet. They watched every game type. Serie A Soccer, Football spring, amateur football, soccer series B, C, D and everything else, even the replicas and transmissions stupid ungrammatical with little hair on his head showing slow-motion replays of game action pallosissime asunder and young women. Every time I opened the book I felt the commentary of a stupid game that annoys me. I was just tired of sit, open the book, read, repeat and then not remember anything of what I had read and repeated in the background because I always felt that those endless commentary with a monotone voice and another that was wrong and the subjunctive laughing hysterically. Closed the books and I went to my two roommates. "Who plays?" I asked.
was a replica of a game of Serie A. Do not ask me the names of the teams, because I do not remember, ah yes perhaps it was Lazio and Florence .. bho! Anyway I went back and listened to both their comments, I enjoyed it a lot. The players had beautiful names, names to read the epic in the history books, names of heroes. When a player who had the ball took a nice name I ask, "Is' a strong player this?" The Venetian said "Uelà" and the Roman in the same way he always well marked and in a loud voice the name, first name, a colon "has played in Lodi, in Como, .... "Ah Ah, he knew everything. Even the goal that the player had accomplished in his career. Unbelievable. That stuff. To die for. Then I could see over the players of both teams were other men in the field. I asked him who they were disgusted and he is the arbiter of San Donà Rombon debut in Serie A on .. ", yet the referee was called a hero. "And the other two with the flag in his hand running like crabs? What are their names? ". At my request squeezed her lips and shook his head. He did not know the names of the linesman. It was great because, with a stupid name like mine, I could do the same linesman. I said I had a hobby, right. No, this stupid I forgot the game ball as the two boys left. In fact, a little 'I miss them even if they smelled the house and vomited.
CONTINUE
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