Tuesday, July 19, 2005
space monkeys
From Adriano's blog,
Saturday night. Sitting at a Caffe Rouge's table, talking about nothing specific, we realize once again the extraordinary experience that we are living: sitting at the same table, drinking beer and coke, talking as old friends there are an american, an italian, two romanians, a tunisian, a taiwanese, an australian, a finnish and a british. The feeling that the world doesn't have borders anymore has become a sweet routine.
It's half past nine pm, we decide to go dancing; short lay over to buy a cold beer and, sipping, we start walking to the club. The neon sign saying CAZARA is on; we pay and one by one we enter. The club is not a disco; the atmosphere riminds a disco-pub one, but there isn't enough room to dance. It doesn't matter: we order a Raki, an alcolic turkish licorice-flavored drink, and start dancing. The peculiarity of the club is the possibility to write whatever you want on its walls; inevitably my eyes start looking for some writings that I can understand. On a wall, between turkish sentences, an english one stands out:
"I'm a space monkey. I just press a button, pull a lever and I don't understand why. And then, I just die"
The hand that wrote that sentence is placeable: it is one of the Adana INCIRLIC base's american soldiers'. Guys of my age who, without having choice, decide who has to die and who has to survive, guys who play an horrible videogame where it doesn't matter how many points you collect, if the enemy hits you, there is no bonus life to use. They are in front of me right now, they dance and sing normally, they smile and drink beer clapping their hands following the music's rhythm. They are just like me, they look happy, at least for tonight; tomorrow they will be again simple space monkeys.
Adriano
Saturday night. Sitting at a Caffe Rouge's table, talking about nothing specific, we realize once again the extraordinary experience that we are living: sitting at the same table, drinking beer and coke, talking as old friends there are an american, an italian, two romanians, a tunisian, a taiwanese, an australian, a finnish and a british. The feeling that the world doesn't have borders anymore has become a sweet routine.
It's half past nine pm, we decide to go dancing; short lay over to buy a cold beer and, sipping, we start walking to the club. The neon sign saying CAZARA is on; we pay and one by one we enter. The club is not a disco; the atmosphere riminds a disco-pub one, but there isn't enough room to dance. It doesn't matter: we order a Raki, an alcolic turkish licorice-flavored drink, and start dancing. The peculiarity of the club is the possibility to write whatever you want on its walls; inevitably my eyes start looking for some writings that I can understand. On a wall, between turkish sentences, an english one stands out:
"I'm a space monkey. I just press a button, pull a lever and I don't understand why. And then, I just die"
The hand that wrote that sentence is placeable: it is one of the Adana INCIRLIC base's american soldiers'. Guys of my age who, without having choice, decide who has to die and who has to survive, guys who play an horrible videogame where it doesn't matter how many points you collect, if the enemy hits you, there is no bonus life to use. They are in front of me right now, they dance and sing normally, they smile and drink beer clapping their hands following the music's rhythm. They are just like me, they look happy, at least for tonight; tomorrow they will be again simple space monkeys.
Adriano
# posted by Surya Swamy : 3:19 AM
