The Death Dance Day

A Week and Picture: Blinding Lights, Blinding Night, let’s all do the Death Dance and break havoc about the stoopid. The moon was witness, a sign? I don’t know, I just know she liked it.

Location: Study – Incense must dance – formerly quixotic

Feeling: Worried whilst asleep

Listening to: Stan Getz & João Gilberto – O Grande Amor

I sometimes think that whatever will be of my life will be a very realistic dream. Sometimes, I think it will be an irrelevant plus. The mountain range of my mind is even impossible to comprehend by myself. I wonder endlessly by it, finding very common places, or searching the highest peaks but still not understanding the horizon. Lush valleys are very present, but places I had not visited for ages tend to appear sometimes. And let's not mention the caves. In times, I feel like a genius that climbs on mental summits no one else climbs, and sometimes like someone who is mentally lost and won't make a difference. But one thing I know, I can be crazy.

Evening. I noticed that I tend to write late, but I don't think I could write much earlier that 3 or 4. A recount of a long week makes it seem very short, and that time is something that expires a lot, you just don't appreciate it because you know there's more coming. I sense I'm trusting myself, and I can't place the pinch to tell me: ''Oh fuck! Its the last trimester, your last chance to get awesome grades!!" But maybe because I gave such a wide and toxic sigh at the end of the second, or the impression that this one's eternal (20 days have passed, is that accountable? Shoot at the count of three). Well, maybe the pinch is this week , as I have the 4th block history exams (The fun part of the historic roller coaster has passed). Up to World War II and the lot, best history classes of my life. I know that history is by far my best subject and a grade under seven in this block means auto-flagellation (Not very ritualish, but God oh my, very painful yes). Everything goes into the mountain range very easily, making high summits rise even more, but the Great Depression is a bunch of gibberish that I like to compare to Sim-talk. Hey, if anybody's listening, get me a time machine for christmas. Philosophy finally got good, but when good has to come by your part, making it good is just as hard as you most utterly wish it wasn't. Math, is as always, a whole mount of crap. Only this time I have been ignoring it maybe just too much, and i worry for the first exam (When you shouldn't, sheesh). And other subjects are well, how to say this, giving a a fun loop. Lengua is as dull as ever, but the new book to read is, quite frankly, like an ancient parody positioned in this century. Latin is suddenly all about verbs, economy made me good, english is more commonly a laugh. Instituciones is Independence History, and it would seem that no studying will be necessary for the exam (remind you of anything?). And I'm giving the sports battle of my life in P.E, but, you guessed it, in the sissy sport of badminton, against who is probably the third best person in the class I gave astonishing 10-15 first set, all the class. The second remains to be seen.

Friday was Death Dance Day. What's this holiday I speak of? A holiday I created to remind my adolescence, and a milestone of bizarre friendship and the living proof that imagination is the best drug! Anyways, me and my mates [Laughing Buddha and Wandering British(Those are your new nicknames, get used to them)]. Went for coffee (Hold on, maybe it was that! Augh! Who cares...cantáaa che, cantáaa). We then went to a park, that had a mery urban sight, and then.... Imagination Attack. My God, what a stream of consciousness. I just went gaga british blabbering and awesome laughs all around. But the triggering for the Death Dance was something else. Wandering British just, ran, out of nowhere, he ran. Out of our sight and around the block. I cannot say that I've ever been so proud. I knew from that moment that we were something entirely different, and that you are something else. Welcome to weirdness. Then, out of the deshinibition, I warned Laughing Buddha and did the Death Dance. A humble and probably unintentioned mock to the ancient ones, who did war while chanting. Me, spinning and jumping, moving fast and falling down laughing. One of the best days of my life. April 18th, for the rest of my life will forever be, the Death Dance Day.

I was curious about smoking, but nah, I realized that its just crap. Don't need it.

Sharkman, signing off.

P.S: Wandering British, you owe me money. Oh and, uh, Laughing Buddha I hate you (Ó).