Last weekend I was sick and becuse of the fever, I remained in bed watching (again and again) the second series of Awkward thanks to MTV’s looped broadcast. Saturday morning anyway I had the time of my life at the spa. I had a voucher to spent that allowed me to have a feet massage, Jacuzzi with lavender, body scrub and hydrating face treatment…
I’m telling you this, because the whole Saturday and Sunday since the first moment the girl at the spa touched my feet saying “now you are supposed to relax and not think to anything“, I just closed my eyes pretending to imagine myself flying naked over white clouds…Instead I ended up on Margit Hid.
Believe me when I say that I’m sick of this. I really am. I don’t know why but every time I’m supposed to relax, to think nothing but just close my eyes without sleeping, I end up along the Duna. Margit Hid was beautiful at the end of a sunny day. I spent some of my Sundays back in 2006 walking on Margit Island and I do remember that going back to the bridge I could see the sun falling down – brighter than ever – right into the Duna.
This memory of me walking on the bridge, stopping in the middle of it and just watching the water, made me think to the past and to Gabor of course and this memory ruined my whole weekend and it is still affecting me even today after almost a week. I would rather not waste my time and my neurons for thinking him and spending the weekend to analyze why on Earth If I need to relax I end up thinking to Budapest. Because the problem –of course– is not the memory of the city but the fact that the city triggers me the memory of Gabor.
Few days ago I read that happiness is not a destination but a way of life. This quite logical statement, together with the Yes Man movie (I know…) and the idea that our bodies are just tools to be used to discover the World, helped me to find a kind of answer to my questions. I’m living a safe life and that’s how my brain reminds me that I’m supposed to play adventures. Just I’m not anymore brave enough to do it.
My long stay period in Budapest was done of being alone, forcing myself to hang out with strangers, making new friends, smoking 
pot, being drunk, long walking and great fucking. Everything was new for me and everything was great. I had huge hangovers and because of booze I also had great boobs. I lived forcing myself to do whatever I wanted. Did I want to smoke? Then I smoked. Did I want to stay outside from dusk till down? Done. Did I want to stay in bed with Gabor the whole weekend? Went for it. The only thing that worried me at that time was that I had to finish my exams – but still I had great ideas for the future and above all I had great expectations which is something I completely lost today. Actually I am now completely sure that the future will reserve us bad things.
Not that I went completely insane to believe that the crisis will swallow all of us and there will be a huge war due to the petrol and the freemason politicians. Or maybe yes, that’s just what I believe. Fact is I think I’m not able to involve myself in anything very deep and very personal right now. Not a great passion like Gabor was, not a great expectation like my future was, not a great creativity like my hobbyes were and not a great adventure like every day of my life had been less than 10 years ago.
Sometimes I would only run away carrying a new identity and a new story and end up on a small town along the sea, in some tropical place. I would live in hut, fishing to eat and writing every day marvellous tales. I would pick up shells to make bracelets and necklaces and I would sell them at the local market to get some money for a mojito every now and then. But still I know this wouldn’t be right for the people around me and I wouldn’t really do it. I don’t even like fish that much. So in the end, maybe I’m just trying to build a new scenario to run away with my mind so that Budapest can now be finally forgotten and Gabor too…or maybe I just need an holiday all for myself.
A Pot Calling The Kettle Black 