Stay hydrated

Photo by Stormseeker on Unsplash

There is beauty in loss. For a simple fact. Life is not made to last, so why would we be made to keep?

Back in 2020, my dad’s best friend went really sick, cancer and related stuff teared him apart and he went from being a somehow healthy and happy fifty-five year old man to become a walking dead depressed charicature of himself. Today, almost two years later, my dad sent me a dozen pictures of us, he and my sister, my little brother and a picture of him and his friend, taken after he was diagnosed but still in one of his better shapes. I immediately asked my dad how he was doing. He said he was sensitive. I said that was okay to be. What unreaveled after that small conversation was a day full of discoveries.

My best friend is having a surgery any minute now and I’m just tripping trying to watch an episode of My Next Guest Need No Introduction with David Letterman in which he interviews Will Smith prior to the Oscars slap. I mean, life is weird man. I just asked Alexa the meaning of life and she said a bunch of shitty stuff people write about it from time to time, told me to read a bunch of different books.

I won’t be able to study today. Tomorrow is a holiday in town. I’ll work five hours for an extra 120 bucks. That’s enough to help me pay for rent, credit card bills and other shit. I bouhght a latte macciatto capsule box for the coffee machine, put some bread in the airfryer and now I’m trying to write something meaningful. Why does life needs meaning? Isn’t the beauty of mistery enough? Shouldn’t it be?

A guy I know but still can’t call friend is going through some trouble. I’m worried sick about him but just found out I don’t really have his phone number nor I follow him in any social media, so what is there for me to do? I wanted to call him to grab a coffee or something, we could talk through some shit. That’s not really an option right now. He likes to make bread, according to his instagram account (I’ve found him while writing this) but that’s not really something I know about him. I wish I knew more. I wish I could be more helpful. Sometimes the helping hand is enough. Sometimes it’s not. Somethings just require more of our efforting intention.

Is this it is the best album The Strokes ever put out, but there’s this song in their last album, At the door is the title, that is really something else. My friend’s surgery had to be postponded again, like a joke that’s made too many times it becomes tiring. There’s little to none silverlining in this. That’s the only hoax we believe in. We had a laugh anyways cause if you’re screwed already, well… at least stay hydrated.



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you wouldn’t even be here without a mirrorball (stories, movies and a dark sense of humor)