Christmas time. Family is calling. Home is calling. Friends are calling. Time goes by, but nothing really changes. More Jack Daniels please.

The memories in the locked drawers ... or how mean I was

I won't bother you with my day spent shopping around before the next day departure. Let me focus just on my school class reunion. We were 15 back then, only 5 (me included) showed up that nigth. At a 33% rate, it's still quite good, after almost 9 years.

Anyway, I'm cheating. I've met them during my university years (2, no many memories left of a boring and dull experience), but we've never sat down and talked about everything like last night. In the local pizzeria, it was, at least for me, one of those moments: someone says something, and you suddenly realize that yes, "I'm fucking remember that, man", while just 30 seconds before names and events were just, well, names and events with no connection with you. But just 1 minute later you're talking about what he/she did, when, how, with so many details which just keep flowing from your mouth, bypassing the brain to avoid delays. Talking about old days and old teachers and desaperecidos is something weird, when you didn't remember nothing at all. But everyone has a piece of information, and they all help you to complete the puzzle in your mind.

It worked that way, and seeing people whom real names have not meaning at all because you always called them by some sort of nickname (not Alessandro but Rema, not Simone but Foppa, Fabio as Catta and Giambattista as El Neger, or just Dico.. excluding Olaf. It's always been just "Olaf") it was special. Maybe in 10 years time I'll see them again, or not. And we will anyway talk about the same old funny crap.

After the restaurant we needed a place to chill and drink some last cocktails/beers. The texas was it. And again, for the 5th time in 6 nights, I ended my evening in the place where I used to work and when my sister still works. Tried to get drunk, but nope. I drank like a madman for 6 days but for some reasons, while the liver was screaming for attention, I couldn't get more than slightly dizzy. Damn.

After the last goodbye, I drove home, stopped by a streetlight and finally finished It. Just like 12 years before, it took me less than one week to read it, and probably in 10 years time, thinking of Christmas 2004, I will think of Roland McDonald and of the Barrens and of all the friends I had and lost and re-meet in so many years of travelling, living, lying and running.

I fuckin love christmas.

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