The tropical stablishment.

You wake up when there’s still dark because you have to go to the gym. Or you gotta go surfing. Of course you surf. You’re scumbag yuppie but you keep fighting the waves. For breakfast you use your mixer to do a super juice of carrots, beetroot, water-cress and eggs because you not only know exactly what your body needs, but what it doesn’t. You don’t drink coffe. And bread and butter is a no-no combination.

You’re married, because at some point of your life you’ve realized that your parents were right after all and the right thing to do is to marry. You have a young wife, as hypnotized as you. You’re making big plans for your future, and you work your ass off because that is your duty as a man. You’ve quit smoking not long ago. But you keep stiring it up, little darling. Because you’re not a workaholic yuppie, you’re a cool surfer boy. And you don’t forget your social life. So you don’t give up happy hours at fridays though you know beer makes you look fat, nor barbecues on sundays though you know meat is not good for your soul. No one’s a control-freak here right? But just in case you will push harder in the gym on monday morning and you’ll pass the entire week eating little salad.

Then you go back to your house, eat little fish or little grilled chicken. You drink a fine glass of wine, because sometimes you must celebrate your life. And you always go to bed very early, not because you’re tired, but because you’re good boy, aren’t ya?

And you’re happy that way. Controlled, numbed, doomed into routine that only’s gonna delay your nervous breakdown, but right now you can’t help yourself of exploding in self-pride.
God loves you so much, doesn’t he?

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