Among the many cults of small-medium companies aspiring middle class that I miss, there is also the breakfast bar. I live like an "I" instead of as a "must". I am pleased with friends or with my partner, when it happens to take ten minutes to sip coffee and eat some pasta, throw in the commitments before the day's final break during which recharge the batteries completely. Most of the time, however, put the coffee maker on the stove at home, I open a carton of orange juice, some cookies and recovery begins the day fine. Indeed, it starts better, since they are not surrounded by both sexes Burini intent to exchange opinions on the latest football game, to tell their woes or rattle off theories socioeconomicopolitiche, typically at a decibel level too high. So when I see certain things, probably because I misjudged the missing piece of mind that prompts me to drag me out of the house at all costs to drink cappuccino from "Gigi the Troione, bar restaurant" in the belief that "it is mejo" and that the people of a certain level is only at the breakfast bar, including their own kind. It is probably the "level" that we do not agree. Neither I will be trooped, if only by accident, one of the "similar". So perhaps I am wrong, and not aspiring yuppies out of time. What I mean? Presto said. I leave early to go to the center of analysis, having to undergo a blood test. I'm on my car in one of the main streets of the country, still suspended in the limbo between sleep and wakefulness is typical of the early morning, when I see a car parked half on the sidewalk, half on the road, all across, all ' height of a curve with attached stop. Stuff that even the criminals at the end of TJ Hooker un'inseguimento with sudden and necessary abandonment of the medium. Only that the criminals would not have bothered to insert the four arrows. I hope that the machine has broken down, crashed, something, protest the two-tone of a bus, unable to bend, crushing my hopes, calling the bar a woman of easy virtue. In the sense that it seems out of a brochure from mall-like fashion apparel with claims, only a loss for the first week of November. vintage boots trudged up hastily by high heels, trendy jacket stuck in some way, acted hastily armed with a hand bag to cool the driver. To apologize or threaten him, who knows, however, in the end, the girl jumps into the car, free hastily sidewalk and the roadway ... and parked at the gate opposite, in defiance of the driveway. Also included with the four arrows. And with the same pace glamorous back in the bar, probably from the rest of her friends, to continue the sacred ritual of breakfast. Maybe cursing the rude driver, who even pretended to do his job. Things like that, the stars of "Sex and the City" (the reference model is inevitable that, as she is inevitably carrie), never happen. We only hope that some annoying condominium should not go out right now, forcing her to move the car again. It matters little if, for some ten meters away, there are all the empty parking lots and the machine I have it on hand, like the protagonists of my favorite fiction. And like them, I have to give me a breakfast among the people, so why do people of success, winning, with interesting and fulfilling lives. In short, more that one last moment of pause before throwing myself in daily tasks, a final moment of illusion, before falling back in the squalor of the call center or cash to the supermarket, waiting for mister big steps, while mulling over my misfortune. Of which, of course, is to blame someone else. Certainly not I, who is the protagonist of a film where the others are no more than extras. Like myself. What does the blood test, go home and put the moka on the stove with more satisfaction than usual.
-The news of the week: berlusconi abandon the policy just to make room for young people. Do not "to"?
-The phrase of the week: "Everybody does what he can, not to think about life." (F. Dellamorte)
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