Thank You Interview Email 3 Days Late

Angeli e merda di elefante

One comes here and expects that he remembered what he thought all afternoon.

But no. The usual white screen syndrome, I am forced to improvise once again, to let me go without a trace like a fucking trapeze artist who is missing an appointment with the hands of partners and is suspended a dieci metri da terra, in quella situazione idiota in cui vorresti poter riavvolgere il nastro e rifare gli ultimi tre secondi un'altra volta, solo una, e invece no, te ne stai li con la faccia da cretino e la sola cosa che ti viene in mente è che ti stanno uscendo le chiappe e che devi deciderti a buttare quelle mutande che hanno tutto l'orlo consumato e l'elastico che non tiene più che altrimenti va a finire che magari un giorno sei in pubblico e hai le mani impegnate e ti cascano le mutande e qualcuno se ne accorge, ma invece no perchè ormai è tardi e sei sospeso in aria come una farfalla e ti piacerebbe essere come una farfalla almeno riusciresti a planare invece sei un incudine come quelle dei cartoni di WillyCoyote e quella leggerezza che sentivi first, up to five seconds before she dumped you and now you regret having thought bullshit like-are the coolest flying trapeze artist in the world no one knows as I do, and I can only feel heavy and you rethink your ass off.

Then in truth if you're lucky and it's one of those days a bit 'special happens that you invent free and dreams have wings instead of arms and see the people under you smiling and breathing a sigh of relief and then not you care if your pants are to be thrown away or if you missed the taking because you know that you can really fly over the heads of others and be air and feel air on your face and flashes of cold as a hawk circling around the fucking top of the mountain more pointed in the world where only you and only you feel at home and then if it's one of those days you stop to breathe and a second absolute time, halfway between inhalation and exhalation, pause in all muscles and all bulbs of the brain for a moment you feel happy and shiny perfect.

Then open your eyes and see the sawdust, the elephant dung, the faces of colleagues in the ambulance.
And feel the pain.

But you know, hidden somewhere, there's sure to be a trapeze artist coolest of all, the only one who knows how to fall on deaf ears like an angel, even if you do not see from outside.