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If I were a rich man

First of all, and go past that, NO ONE TELL ME THE END OF LOST . The children and I have sucked the first 5 seasons and the first 13 chapters of the sixth and last. This weekend we will see together on 15, 15 and 16. 17, and final, we will see on Saturday with Lita and From , all properly dressed in the shirts of the Dharma Initiative I bought for the occasion. Belatedly, yeah, but Freaks the end of the day.

I'm not going to bed later, after an intense day of work and a double victory against paddle and Jorge Corti, which puts us in a 7 to 3 in favor in our championship. Needless to say we have given a good account of beer and bacon rigor, lest people go around saying that we vigoréxicos , or worse.

'm brown after 4 days on the beach ( Calblanque on Monday only to Cristina and me, priceless), and in no time to prepare the bags for Japan.

I'm not going to read a bit "muffled Life" by David Lodge (me is charming), having eaten in the last days of Invisible Auster, The Wild Sheep Chase by Murakami and command and control of Amelie Nothomb ( go discovery of Southern !!!). Rather

'm thinking about that anonymous comment on my last post, which told me I was at that age "between passion and pension." And I've done a lot of grace. Because what none of you know is that in the near future I'll be filthy rich thanks to a lottery early solo that I have absolute certainty I lies ahead.

And if, like me spoil James Dean in Giant . And I'll even excuse an impossible love with Elizabeth Taylor .

Dilapidaré my fortune to observe a strict diet of barnacles and Viñas del Vero Gewurztraminer .

I buy a big car and flashy. I do not know the brand and horses, but no doubt will have 2 exhausts and tinted windows. Directly

go into the shareholders of Biotherm as majority shareholder. Constantly be traveling to places where there is sea to dock my boat, manned by a host of beauties, in video plan of Addicted to Love of Robert Palmer (and knowing you will go through this blog. The Amelie dwarf would pale with envy). My station tour the alphabet from A to Armani to Zegna Z ,

course undertake charity projects, such as Fidelio Foundation for the defense "of" the struggle "against" or support "." (No matter what goes behind the quotes. For example, " teaching programming, "Spina bifida" or "Mapuche"). This cleanse my conscience, even in the bottom 10% of these projects will encourage philanthropy. The remaining 90% corresponds to the idea of \u200b\u200bhaving some cool photos.

patronage will practice cultural projects impossible. Finally I will fulfill my old dream: Thus Spake Zarathustra : the musical. I seem to see that final scene of Zarathustra accompanied by a lion, the eagle and serpent singing "I come to lead you to your ultimate sin" with music similar to the " Good Morning Baltimore " of Hairspray

... ... Anyway, I'm going to sleep. I have to be very good face for when that day comes.

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Talcualejamente

I'm getting old. Or the same, to put it less dramatically, grow.

Actually the 41 is relatively easy to find memories, references or circumstances which show the passage of time.

joer, Antena 3 TV news: now serving 30 years David the Gnome, Willy Fog and Dartacán. To paraphrase the tango, thirty years are nothing ...

Lucia, to me, do homework. We ate together, we talked about the holidays and then we went to a field for the first time in his life at age 12, was put in front of the wheel of a car, tuck first, find the point to the clutch and the throttle forward a few meters.

Nacho I have left with some friends. In his 13 starts to be normal (if I use myself as reference) to stay with some friends to go see a football game.

Before, going with them in the car, has been heard on the radio Sultans of Swing. Of course do not know who Mark Knopfler and Dire Straits.

And suddenly occurs to me in sounds past. Those embedded in my memory and it is natural and disappeared abruptly. It would be more appropriate to say they are extinct. I tend to think the tone of the TV to just start programming and chart, or "ding" of the typewriter carriage return when he played (God, if there is a particular expression may be anachronistic "carriage return"). I also came to mind the melody of Radio Intercontinental, and the noise of the washer in my house when centrifuged (surely more than a seismograph was alerted by the vibrations). And a memory has fallen like a ripe fruit: the melody alerted the neighborhood of the visit of the sharpener.

I must be honest: no nostalgia or melancholy reflections. Nor do I feel overwhelmed, or planted in front of the universe. Even a little concerned me my asepsis at the time of writing these lines. I have not even clear whether they are more the result of a memory exercise for me to leave a post, that of an assault of some remote memories. Nothing stirred inside me.

As would Gómez de la Serna: talcualejamente.