I downloaded Nelly Furtado’s discography today. Not because I wanted to, but because I couldn’t find a way to download a single song that I thought could help improve my Spanish – Manos Al Aire (which, in my opinion is catchier than ‘I’m like a bird’) – So now I have a 1.75 gigabyte discography on my laptop, which I’m certain is an unhealthy amount of Nelly Furtado. Perhaps I will listen to some of it later.
I’ve found a concrete football field two kilometres south from where I’m staying, it’s completely empty right now, and I’ve found a spot on the sideline between two black iron doors where I’ve taken to resting. I think the doors conceal bathrooms, because when the wind picks up, it also picks up a smell I’m not too fond of. I wonder which government official signed the document that said ‘put a football field on this slab of concrete.’ It’s not like the children are in prison here, there was surely more viable options. In my two-kilometre walk I viewed at least four patches of level grass where this field could have been erected. But, hey, it’s only our next generation’s wellbeing.
There is a boy who looks to be about sixteen that just walked onto the field. He’s walking in odd shapes around the goalposts, glancing at me every now and then. He looks like the type of person that would have no problem stealing things from people. When you wear a Nike bum bag, actually, if you wear any type of bum bag, you may as well just wear a sign that says, ‘I’m an unsavoury character, and I potentially have a large range of personal issues which I don’t have the mental capacity to deal with, so if you are in my vicinity bad things might happen to you.’ because that’s what you’re really saying. That, or you’re pushing drugs, and if that’s the case maybe I should strike a conversation to see what’s going around. Just kidding, I never talk to strangers. Especially strangers who wear bum bags.
Part of me thinks he knows I’m writing about him. It’s strange how when you do something underhanded, people have this uncanny way of picking up on it. Like if you’ve ever shoplifted, you would know that part of you changes as soon as you decide to do it, and it’s obvious to people if they’re looking for it. I shoplifted once when I was nine, a packet of orange Tic Tacs from Bi-Lo, and I felt so awful I remember throwing them in the bin as soon as I got home, as if I could throw my guilt away. I hope he doesn’t try and steal my laptop; he really does look like that sort of person.
I’m in a small bar now, I decided to walk here because I was thirsty, and I was a little bit scared of being robbed. I ordered one beer for two euros, and was given a beer, ham on rye, and potato chips. Tapas still surprises me, and it always seems to put me in a good mood. I think I’ll have another beer, go home, and start working my way through this discography.