March 21. The brewery in our head.

I walk around with a woman from Buenos Aires today. She is very big, five centimeters taller than I am, and she takes nice pictures of people who sleep on the benches in the belching metropole. We walk through a big park in Palermo and suddenly she has a thorn in her toe. It’s bleeding and it won’t stop. We turn around. She says she will visit a massage saloon and that will take two hours. Well that’s very interesting. I start getting curious about that treatment. Of course she wants to put me off and seeks a more subtle way of doing so than saying bluntly “you bother me”. Anyway, we walk back through the park and she takes a taxi somewhere tells me I can walk home. Illusions come, illusions go. And it is not at all a bad treatment to undergo this cycle at least a few time. Without the tall woman next to me I walk on and think about this recycling of emotions. In a way, it must be like a soup in our head, with all those ideas, imaginations, hopes, propositions, wishes drifting in a thick fluid. Shaking it up might not be the best recipe to cook up something marvelous, but it is definitely the first line of a very good recipe. What do you think, Jack? I miss you, by the way. And I like you again. I don’t need to ask you for forgiveness because I killed you. I know you are way beyond that. But Jack, do you agree? Is it good to have thinks shaken up over and over again in order to, well, preventing the need to shake them up over and over again? Do you understand what I’m saying? Sorry Jack, I didn’t want to bother you. And by the way, I think the emotional brewery in our head is an asset you are not entitled too.