danny

being lonely is not about not having people around to entertain you or to even keep you company. it is about not having someone around that understands you.

understanding someone is that little thing that separates friends from acquaintances. is that little thing that makes you feel lees out of this world and more an important part of it. it is what makes you rooted on humanity, finding resonance on other souls, and then learning from the differences and dwelling on the similarities.

being understood is a wonderful feeling. it is being part of this world, and an important, needed one.

i feel mighty and insignificant, like a super ant.

my life is spread along the vast internet, in pieces here and there. since more than a decade i have left traces around the web: blogs, sites, posts, comments. they amount to so much, they cover so much surface, and yet they don’t seem to build up to much in the fabric of the online life around me.

now i realise the problem is they’ve been sparsed moments without an objective to glue them together. i had the faint glimpse they were growing into a professional personality on the last moments in london, and now they’re back into oblivion, with just a slight patina covering the last months here in new york.

here i’m the newcomer, the outsider, a boy that looks too young for himself, whose experience does not radiate like a magnificent sun, but more like a binary star that passes for a bright spot when seen from afar.

this sick pedantic way of restarting it all seems the worse strategy on which to build a saga, let alone a simple life. all the ashes from that previous life blown to the wind by the turbines of the last boeing 727-400. all relics burnt and sold and left behind in the fragile memories of those who shared a moment with me. all learning just an opinion, all knowledge just a memory in my soul.

the truth seems blunt and covered in tar, stickily taking me with it to new beginnings where all is new and i’m not much of what i have been, where i have to prove it all again.

once a professor moves to another faculty is mostly because he was called to, summoned. if not, it might be painful and tragic, to convince the new world of those old assented truths he has made his and proved a couple of possible times.

like a fellow, i must find the catalytic point where it all comes together, the philosopher’s stone that will transform all the materials i’m made of into what i really am.

still here, still looking, not a clue. but it can’t be that far. it just can’t be that far, i can feel it.

just another alchemist, that’s what i must be now.

one day you were among your good friends, not too many but the right ones, with a decent job, in a lovely city, getting to that place, very close to that place where you feel you finally got it, you finally belong.

next day you’re in a new land, new city, big as it can be, no friends, no advocates, no references, all gone to square one, where peers don’t even care much for what you do, where mates are nowhere to be seen, where you feel alone and cold.

go figure, go fucking figure.