Tonight at dinner, I had to do with some of the issues I most care about certain people of this city.
I was having dinner in a restaurant, as almost always, at a corner table in the entry hall of the restaurant. When I sat in the same room there was only one other table occupied, two women in their thirties ('s weird to say, given that "about thirty" I ...), there are also well-dressed but not too smart .. . probably two friends to dinner after a day of work (but work in different offices).
One of the two speak almost not felt, the other was a constant barrage of the most becere psicobanalità and postyuppimi: he spoke of her man, one who lives outside Milan, but worked in town, how he built one step at a time their relationship, their relationship as he lives, how this relationship interacts with the male figures in his life, a father always present but emotionally detached .. . and work with a consultation to boost the image of a small creative company in the field of "branding" (!?!?), with plans to share it with the aim of making it attractive for a sale within five years (having the age of sixty ultra members ...), etc., etc., etc. ... In short, the most pathetic of a monologue that "we really believe." One that Milan and the worst (at least from my point of view, perhaps too provincial, but still I) "Milanese" has it in his veins, bone, in the DNA.
To write a note worthy outline of all this, the arrival of a young couple (twenty-five?) With veiled display of family wealth and two "mignottoni" (although my definition is not adequate enough for me) to follow and a boy (probably the author of the above definition), those who hear them speak and are the typical spoiled children (this was the aspiration to go to open a club in Argentina !!!), probably him in the first half of thirty, which has since been reached by his father for dinner and a friend of his father's middle-aged men, a jacket and tie, air manager not at all veiled and not even a gesture to stop the tacky references to which of them had more money than the boy did.
All this, not in a fancy restaurant, but in a restaurant / butcher shop ... Ok, I admit, in Moscow to Milan in the Brera district, where probably all jocks are more than I'll never in my life, but I did not find the hotel (and the restaurant was very close .. . in the true sense of the word ...).
In my corner, eating my Swiss with smoked cheese, watching the scene as a spectator at the cinema, and raised a note of sheer astonishment on the waiters when they thanked me and took away the empty plate, probably someone you can wean the most common courtesy (or even the fact that a customer may be aware that you exist and are working for him).
This evening I was probably near the limit: more than in all other nights when, sitting alone in a restaurant, I had inadvertently see some trivial conversation, I was about to get up and scream in the face to those people which had to stop taking themselves seriously.
psicociance of the chick was the one that hit me more about the nervous system and was a nanosecond from being blurted in exasperation rather than take unnecessary mental masturbations on the relationship with her husband I wanted to tell you to start living for that relationship that is, and if wrong, do not psychoanalyze too much but try to live longer, without trying to optimize the logistics of their marital relationships as a function of the job. But among other things, merciful heaven, who uses the term "logistics" are talking about a relationship??
But what this city is bad for people?
more I think, the more suspect that something is in the air ... Fortunately, a few hours run away from this madhouse and I go back to the grind km for Italy, returning to breathe the air of those places where you are a bit 'easier to not take it so seriously ... Or maybe it is a matter of places and for not taking me seriously I've got just wired into my immune system?
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