one thousand ways of getting fucked

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Now that you just wake up,
you are already fucked, leaving this the room, or this floor, you enter in the toilet, you look the mirror,
and you are fucked again, you remember who you were, you are fucked, you
remember what you wanted to be, you are fucked, you look at your face, you look
at your hands, you are fucked, there is no time for shower or breakfast because
you are already too fucked, you seat in front of the computer, you are fucked,
you check your mails, looking for a signal, you are fucked, you check your
facebook, some people like your bravado, some people find it disgusting, you
change your sentences, but you are fucked anyway, you browse through the
internet looking for some fuckface like you, you find many, you get confused,
time passes, you are fucked, the neighbour is complaining, you will get fucked,
you think about going out, visions of fucklands passing through your mind, you
stand up, walking around in your messy house, all that pictures on the walls
and furniture are fucking with you, you tore some, you break some stuff, you
fuck yourself through the corridors, finally, you manage to get out, you go
down, some people recognize you while you walk on the streets, they fuck with you,
you fuck with them, but because you have
no money, you are always the more fucked one, anyway, you keep going, from big
streets to narrower and narrower ones, the views are getting dark and grey,
from a balcony upstairs, they are spying you, they call you bitch or something
, so you have to run, you have to get away from here, pans and pots are falling
around you, everybody here wanna fuck you, anyhow you manage to get out from
the ghetto, you go through a park, more like a field, you fall on the mud, you
cry over spilled milk, and oh my god, dear, so fucked you are now, but not so
bad actually, see, you just escaped the big fuck, so you better stand up, clean
this shit from your clothes and come back to the city, look for a job, look for
something new, try to get fucked again,
with more dignity. And as I say you do, here you go now; stealing stuff from
the supermarket, asking for a position, they give you a form to fill in, but
you don\u2019t remember your address, your phone is gone, your hands are still grey,
you come back to the streets, trying to fuck with someone, but no one cares
about you now, you may get pissed, you may get dizzy, life give you shit
because you look for it, so go and get fucked again, but don\u2019t come back home,
go to mess with da police, with the people on the airport, go to fuck yourself
greatly in some offshore paradise\u2026 and never come back\u2026 Now, well dressed, well
fucked, here you are again, this time, you are coming just to check the prices.
Nothing seems to interest you. You look tired of everything. Totally fucked up.
I see you wandered around the shelves for hours. I understand now, you like to
watch people and stuff. You think you can steal their happiness but no, is not
so easy. Subsequently, at certain time, you do your way to the front of the
supermarket, coming up to speak with one of the girls on the returns-and-refunds
section. At first, she didn\u2019t understand what you wanted, maybe she was a
little fucked too, and what was all that conversation about sending a clock
through the washing machine and the black Chinese peanuts with no smell. And
the rotten cabbage hidden under the hat of the president. So, she put you on
the phone with the sales director, but the sales director is occupied, fucking
someone up somewhere, for sure... so quickly she transferred the call to the chief human resources office, but, this person, a middle age
single woman graduated in clinical
psychology and gestaltism, also, is not in the mood to listen you silly
verbiage either, to make it short, she don't want to get fucked by a guy like
you, she want something more elaborate. So, in turn, the shop assistant try to
pass the call to the manager director that was not on duty but at home having
breakfast with a whore that was more-and-less fucked thousands of times in the ass, although
still less fucked than you and me. You wait on the phone, listening one of the
seasons of Vivaldi with suspicion, but not for long. Eventually, the whore
picks up the phone and talk. She agrees with you about the black Chinese
peanuts with no smell and that love is just a matter of taste. Also I don't see
the point of your babbling about the crisis in Africa and all that fucked up
people. The whore came up with the matter of immortality, afterwards she
handled the phone to the boss and the boss spoke with two boiled eggs in the
mouth. He tells you about the washing machine programmes and others shits like
health-safety policy in working sites. You listen the boss in silence, staring
to the CCTV cameras. You want to call him one thousand names, but you just call
about a dozen. You feel better now. Time to clean your wounds with the right
soap. You find a needle in your wallet and you go around in the city stinging
people that are too absent. It\u2019s like a ritual. In that process you will hear the
others, but after you have to be strong and decide by yourself. You will walk
into that corridor, into the labyrinth, you may close the eyes and accept
improvisation. The world knows you and will guide to yourself. You open your
eyes and you are in the margin of a river. You can breathe better now. All this
green embracing your body and soul. The boat is there waiting for you, you go,
you jump inside and your spirit is free. The boat will take you to the other
side, the body is already there waiting for you. The body knows you very well.
You can feel your nerves and come back home. The problem is that you may not
recognize you relatives, you still a bit fucked up. You are someone running
between the darkness and the zilch. Do not pray. The ashes of tomorrow are
already burning. Never mind about the whole thing by now. The self made boatman
is no more here. You better leave. You better burn your gold. You better fuck
with someone else before someone fuck with you more seriously. Because
it's already time to evolve into new
fucking
things never-seen-before. Long life to the metamorphosed human Fuck. In the
name of the father, the son and the holy spirit, long live the fucking crisis
that never dies... this crisis is a river that belongs to the monopoly of the God of all failures... you may say... a
great crisis ruining this or that shity project... an
inexhaustible negative energy feeding all the monsters and chimeras of the
universe based on the relativity... but, fuck the crisis too, lets us dig
fertile lands... What is good for me may be bad for you, may kill you... The
system is one, there are no failures, all fails are perfect, and if God is
emptiness and the devil the imperfect doubt, you may be the lucid monkey, the
patrician mangálá... Your freedom may end up in rage, you may fuck yourself
without propose, the loose girl may be reading you romance at some hypermarket
corridor. In the sky, mathematical equations abound with a series of prime
numbers derailing and falling into the sea. The world is a big fuck itself. Anyway,
nowadays we live in a world with a quantity of
recorded reality on a hard disk much greater in kilometres and weigh
that the one we can walk with our feet. We are all fucked. Our perception of
reality is gone. So, after this paragraph, I may go out, to breath some fresh
air coming from this fucked up trees, sucking all the dirtiness of the future.
I unpacked my person in public, in front of some pastry shop and I see you
inside, you are asking for something, but they cant understand your messy fucked
up language. Also those on your side, right now, entering numbers in that
little machine, they are not better than you, all they do is sit. The whole
day, creating decoys, transforming vain abstractions into concrete cement. People buy their products. People buy
anything. People just want to get fucked in a nice way. In short, I pass
through all these characters and a few more, before reaching the train station,
run to the platform area and catch the first train that is about to leave at
this precise moment. The train is full of dumb faces, you may be there, you may
not, I don't care no more about your presence. The truth is that people
sometimes get tired of words, they want action, but at the same time it's the
words that trigger actions, so words have something magical, so I may approach
my dear brother and sisters aboard this train, and start my speech like this.
"Dear friends and fiends... or better, illustrious celestial monkeys
coming who knows from where and here fallen by the will of who knows from what...
I hereby showing my dumbness, I hereby
acting in this altruistic way... to estimate, as the book of laws says... Go
fuck you all with the right measurements... Go fuck you all in as many
positions and quadrants as the ones you can conceive... Fuck you all inside out
and in other perspectives... Go fuck each others in a cool way... I mean be Goldie\u201d Yes, you should become Goldie. Be Goldie. They,
the normal people, will appreciate you from both sides. Golden skin, lemon
brain, fluttering soul from the semiotic desert. So now you can abandon that
fucking cave and come back to the earth, I know that it will not be it easy,
you always end up dealing with a lot of unpleasant misunderstood on the way,
but get rid of that, be simple. If you can not win them join them. Be ready. Be
aware. Be Goldie. Listen music with a lot of fuzz. Burn your hair and throw the
ashes down on a mountain while thinking about salamanders. Eat a lot of crisps
in the morning and go for a walk in the sun around midday, always avoid
stopping in the shadow of buildings or trees for long time, keep yourself in
the sun the maximum you can and go in the direction of the sunset when the day
is finishing. Come back home, sleep with the lights on, and If you awake in the
middle of the night with insomnia, fry some bananas, eat them with hot mustard
and drink your own piss before come back to bed. It\u2019s good to be Goldie. Be
Goldie. Be no more a dumb fuck ass-hole. I'm watching you from my junk-yard. I
may be some sort of phantom but I'm Goldie. It's good to be Goldie. I jump the fence and I cross the motorway. On
the other side of the hill there are some plactic palm trees. I don't care. I
sit on a bench and I'm still watching you in your dreams. You are in some
remote uninhabited tropical island with the remote control in your hands and
you keep pressing the buttons as if you are trying to decode some secret number
that will bring you the stars. A rope may descend from the cloudy sky in your
direction, but first you need to be Goldie. I suggest you a number. You
understand nothing. You can't be Goldie. You have
no ideology. So, let's come back to the main personage, the falling leader, now
he his nether becoming a new radical or a new republican. He still consider
himself a democrat, but he don't believe in democracy no more, he thinks
democracy came to an end after you have been off-screened from the big stage.
So, what he wants to be now? Actually, he wants to have fun, that's what he
wants, and he is right, all the human creatures, and not only human, have the
right to have some fun, to get some joy from the non sense world. Now, after
his time of drift-age, he no more enjoy the company of his old friends, that at
some point wanted him to come back, the bankers, journalists, the social analysts\u2026
now he is becoming a friend of cheap philosophers, wizards and militarists\u2026 but
he still keeps his approach to the family of the chauffeur, he still try to get
joy from the banal conversations, he even try to speak to street walkers, he
asks them where are they going, and this people tell him the truth. They tell
him they are going to the work, coming back home. They tell him they are going
from the work to home and from home to work. Some of them are also going to the
supermarket, some don't answer, some are coming from the barber, some looking
for the right boutique, trying to find that dress they saw on the Tv, in that
commercial, because the announcer was using it in direct. The annoucer was a
Goldie. It happen that he knows this announcer, we all know that annoucer, a she, of course. An ex-presenter,
now-model-and-wanna-be-actress. He asks to some friends in the circuit where
she lives. What kind of parties she frequents. Soon he gets the information,
and goes to meet her in that party made to celebrate doesn't matter what. On
the going he gets drunk, they meet straight away inside the glass covered hall,
and she falls in love with him automatically. She loves his speech, he have a
different speech now, different from the one he used when he was in power. A
more sensible one, his voice became hoarse, and he knows how to incorporate his
words in her body. In the course of the things, some cocktails after, she
pushes him out of the lobby into the garden and there they go, walking around
the swimming pool. Someone watches them, a body floating on the water, we don't
know if dead or alive. Mr president, now acting as a movie critic, and miss TV
presenter, now acting as a real bitch, here they go, into the shrubs. They
reach the willow tree, under this tree they stop, attacking each other,
awkwardly. He is the first one to fall on the wet grass, trying to get rid of
his modal tie, or perhaps trying to suffocate her with his claws, we can't be
sure. But she jumps on the top of him. Her hands on his neck. His hands
tinkling on her breasts, we see. And the green silk dress becoming a mess. His
tie is still not coming out, problem, he gets stressed and finally ejaculates
over her belly. She still tries to get it more down, but there is not enough
pressure on the hose. She getting angry with his misconduct now, slapping him
on the face several times and he not reacting. Firm, he stays, stiff on the
floor. Is that you? Who is he after all? The chauffeur watches everything from
behind the shrubs, he even took some pictures with his iPhone and later he will
show it to the family. They all laughing, in the kitchen. In the meantime, the
younger daughter of the chauffeur takes hold of the photos and innocently,
publish them on the facebook and other web pages, and of course, in a
fraction of seconds, this photos go around the world, they spread everywhere,
people make money with them, they ruin lives, they save lives, this photos,
they will be listed on the stock-market and treated as import-export goods.
Anyway, in the end nobody knows the source of this, but Mr politician himself,
even he don't cares so much about that. His people are already waiting for him
in the aerodrome. Are you there too? He just have to enter in his personal jet
and escape to a "developing world' country while all new cases of
corruption associated with him appear on the news, like an avalanche... By now,
this man became Goldie, definitively. So Mr president is now in a private clinic making some kind
of surgery. Already in that 'developing world\u201d new country, he is now working
on a new face, expression, identity and ideology. This man is chameleon, he
adapts to everything. In this new country he becomes active in the oil trading
and in the cosmetics industry. He buys a new mansion, a countryside palace, in
the slope of a hill with luxurious vegetation. Some other escapees from the
modern world are living around there as well. With the help of a psychoanalyst
he overcomes his premature ejaculation thing and to celebrate (and announce
himself in the community) he throws lascivious parties at his house. All kind
of new-riches, chique-freaks, religious-militarists, smart-tongue-travesties,
are coming to this parties, to preach, to avow and to have fun. This man is
really Goldie now. Rituals of flesh, prosthesis and modern alchemy are being
celebrated in this mansion, on the lusty hill. A kind of Hollywood, series be
or ce... Some months pass, years, well, time
is confuse in that area. Our hero dries
out. He is no more a leader, for that, there are many gurus around, more their
secretaries and promoters. Our hero works on the back, licking the pussy of the
promoters and he also licks some cocks, the cocks that ejaculate oil. So much
oil they ejaculate that he gets sick of it and decides to change to other
clean, ecological, not scarce energies. Taking the counsel of his personal
warlocks, he

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