revolution and ever eternal students celebrate the mourning a new degree
"The Bull
" the call, the date of entering the tens of innocent children from Puglia and Abruzzo who came to stay after school for different years from us.
Science communication and entertainment "means the brochure.
At the good intentions, the warm embrace of the small town, the evenings spent at home or in any pub in the center. Then rivers alcohol, dinners and lunches that turn into endless drinks, skipped the first examination, the anger of parents, "but, fuck, they're a thousand miles away, and now my family is here." Groups solid, compact, all day in the house drinking, smoking, some movies, some CDs, sometimes absolutely nothing, then the spaghetti of five in the morning, chatting up talk, "fuck the community center is now paying € 2 to enter the "hey let me take another shot of cocaine" but where did you get? How much did you pay? "" What do you care, the father pays, he believes that we pay the rent "" Yes, but you can not stay forever here, the landlord will find out there "" Hey, quiet brother, I do not stress, take a sip beer toh you go ... you have prepared the strip? ".
And one fine day, after so many years, at least some hair and some more eye socket, also comes a degree, a beautiful 100-page thesis that your prof has not even read it, but who cares! Look there how happy dad, friends and relatives who came from outside the compliment, Joe is already drunk and will soon overtake the last night in the Great Bubble, then by tomorrow, who knows.
He had not thought of tomorrow, and today is my birthday, the big day has arrived and you do not think of anything else, last night with my people, my new family, at least until tomorrow. The party in the cellar, a glass quick to Mari, then a whiskey Giancarlo Ricci in Kindergarten, there are two graduation parties, and let you down everything to the last drop, until the last breath, and before someone gets hurt, before someone breaks a leg for yet another go at dawn ready rescue, sing along loudly Il Ballo di San Vito, dance until the morning, drunk.
Then tomorrow morning with a headache and shirt soup alcohol, calmly choose whether to spend the next years of our life in the quiet village home, to take the place of fathers in business without even knowing what it takes this blessed company,
set up home and family, some buzz every now and then but not too much, some drugs every night. Or go to spew smog in Milan, the master paid for by dad, 24 000 € for two years and the rent payable to the whims, "then you just get a job eh? Are you a doctor now! "Work? Doctor? Words until recently did not even make sense to me, and now echoes in my head, heart, way down in the belly and stomach. It burns more than any hangover, but soon it will pass. A domesticated body, a pretty serious and well-paid job to ward off any desire, in short, a man at last in the list of difficult but very successful of any good family man.
(pic by
galliot.com )