KORR – English

THE KORR.

(Written at Chiringuito Elektra el 6-7-2014).

Those nerves as usual since the job change. Too overwhelmed. Travels, meetings, mortgage, unexpected baby, Julia's tits, money tensions.
Those pricks and tickles in the stomach, and when I get up. The acceleration of the pulse with the first puff. Cigarette feels good at first in the morning. Snuff is like a friend who will not leave you.

Slightly dizzy with the first cigarette. But not always.

And this week had to visit Warsaw, Prague and Kiev.
This travels were already annoying.  Accelerated, checked, busied, targeted, reported and flown in tourist class since  the second Crisis year..

I’d compensate it at the end of trip. I had saved 2.6 hours in Kiev. Would stay with A.Sukova. It was the advantage of this kind of work. Allowing a high degree of discretion.

I heard about jobs regulation., but people like me aren’t normally  impacted by those things. And I suppose this go on! Stuff commercial. . . Although Alfonso was fired. Never thought. He joined the company with me.
I am 42 young. My life seemed on track. At labor-economic level, the situation in Europe could be better. My boss, had endorsed me some goals for this year, they would be good just for a photo, anything else. Pressure was going up.

After the clash with Julia by the tits implant and money, our relationship had changed, and now, being at home,  was not the desired relax. I don’t know if my work absences or monetary tensions were letting signal. I desired were not other worst causes.
The mortgage was costing me € 2,000 each month. Yes, was the envy of Julia’s friends. All very modern, pool, design kitchen  and many otther details we’d never use, but we would show.

High level holidays. Paying cash or on credit.
Julia’s girlfriends, a part of a couple exceptions, seemed pretentious and unpleasant. Surely had been the populars, as boys and girls say now.

But it was Julia, with those panther bright eyes. That voluminous and curly hair. That vital joy, who beat me with no choice. What level. . . Sure she had lived as planned.

I was still thinking about what to do with my life. Children, yes. Work, yes. But I meant if I was passing through this life for anything else, or if I could just take this opportunity to something that would satisfy me and worthwhile.

After an easy youth, lived unceremoniously without deprivation of any kind. My parents did not deprive me of anything. The hardships were fiction.

My father was an engineer with a senior position in a German company, and my mother was a lawyer. And good. They couldn’t spend too much time with me  and "nanny" made ​​ that function.

Good schools. Stays in the U.S. and Canada.

I experimented with everything that passed nearby or I felt possibility to like. First some light drug cigarettes, then any pill. Combined with alcohol and predisposed girls. Good cocktail. Good partying, good tropical parties. What memories. . . Or better to say, so forgetfulness. . .

Cocaine, the all night binge, Ibiza mon amour, the sea baths by night in Sitges with Mamen group (an "ex" I remember as a serie for chapters. Did not know reason, but we felt equal). It was the most perverse and unbridled era.

Some habit still keep. The energy has not to be missed . . .

Now, married, kids, working. . .

And those ticklish. . . Only disappeared after a good whiskey or a heavy drink.  

Instead, doctors had advised me to quit smoking, drinking and take life differently. Especially after the anxiety attack and subsequent arrhythmia.

But, in two days, I was ok. I returned to normal. Fright unimportant . . .

I was waking up from a nightmare. I did not recognize where I was. Things happen when you travel so much. I must have slept in an airport. I was looking me on the floor in a hallway, people around me. Someone shouted for a doctor, but in a unknown language that I understood perfectly. And I . . . looked like I was watching myself. . . .

I was freaking out?  Those drugs. . Go life. Should I straighten my life and change habits. This was surpassing me.

Go chest pain. . .

J.