Nuisance.

I like watching her naked body. The lines that draw her body are irregular but beautiful. Sometimes, I think in the girls of the magazines with her perfect bodies, her glistening and smooth skin and their irritably wonderful curly hair. Not even a hair lost. Would I like to have a girl like that? -I ask myself, while drinking coffee or writing something else-, then I remember her irregular lines that are somehow enthralling. I tell myself I wouldn’t like to be with someone else. She fills a void. A spiritual void that wouldn’t be filled if it’s not love what’s filling it.

Craving for someone with a perfect body is the same as working to have a better car or designer’s clothes. Some people in suits spend some millions of dollars to tell us what we need and we comply. We obey. I lust for a perfect body, like everybody, because I’ve been watching too much television. It’s not a honest worry for my health or an ego request. If I ever have a perfect body or a girl who has it, then I’d like the car and fries to go with it. Please. This week, by the way, I signed up and spent thirty bucks in a gym. At least, I hope I get rid of my belly.

I have been sleeping bad lately. We had two projects that made me spend the night at the office. I hate those quickies, because the client requires perfection but there’s not enough budget, neither time to do it. You do the best you can, while you check your clock and count the hours: 1, 2 or 3 AM. Sirens, police cars or ambulance are some of the regular fauna that keeps you awake while you work. (I remember them, because I just listened to some, while trying to sleep and caressing her irregular lines). The ocassional drunkard walking around the street, singing a mariachi song aloud. Lovers arguing loudly in the apartment building in front of us, ripping each other apart with words, while a drink my coffee, watch across the window and think about lines.

I’m a nuisance tonight. Like the mosquito that’s been flying around for a couple of hours. I wonder why people call Darren Hayes’ song, the mosquito song? I still feel tired, but I’ve been sleeping at irregular intervals during the afternoon and some of the night. I’ll feel like a sinner if I sleep some more. I guess I’ll check some of my papers before trying to sleep again. If I wait enough, I could make some breakfast, wake her up with a kiss, caress her legs and talk about sirens, and bad sleep, and the mosquito song, and perfection.