I am almost happy. As it seems, I have everything: I am young, beautiful, and rich; entire populations must dream to be just like me. Or almost. I am young, beautiful, rich and lucid. And this is the detail that puts everything to lose.

My view? Upset the world, you are included.

Unnerve, upset, irritate the hypocrites, the declassified, the intolerant, the pretentious without reason, the neighbors, the bourgeois, the miser, the incurable mediocre, those who fill the car they pay by years with girls, those who talk of politics, those who call whores to every girl that haven’t jumped on them, those who criticize books they have never read, those who try to convert us to their religion, those which shake the notes under the nose of the employee, those who don’t like cops; and I don’t need to go further. The worst.

I have two infallible weapons to exercise my art. The first is my unquestionable superiority physical, intellectual, financial and social that causes sudden death of my opponent and that makes me invulnerable to any attack; the second, I couldn’t care less about every and anything and I have no shame at all.

Think this is childish? I have my reasons.

I upset the world because I hate it.

I hate it because it’s not what I want it to be. I am an idealist, I believe the old values: the courage, the dedication, the greatness. My life is a search whose purpose no longer exists, my ancestors were heroes, I ain’t more than a daddy's baby. Rebel without a cause, I’ll die in a porsche accident or with an overdose, when what I wanted was to die in combat.

But fight for what? In a world where God is the social rising and no one can be saved, except in the movies.

Hopeless, looking for a glow of poetry in each face, for the enthusiasm in a discussion of ideas, or at least ideas, but people walk aside, walk rushed, poorly dressed, blinded by their concerns.

I can’t do anything for them. I can’t do anything for anyone.


LP.