wallow in me

coldhardcash

2007-02-01T18:29:00.000+01:00

everythingisaytoyouisawfullyserious
idontmakepuns
ihavenoslipsoftongue
ipayincoldhardcash

annesexton

...and then jump again!

2007-01-17T10:03:00.001+01:00

Erdanziehungskraft, but with style.
Originally uploaded by philipinperu.

Milano, Piazza Affari.

[photos taken yesterday by my instant friend philip ( http://flickr.com/photos/philip_koch/ )]

jump!

2007-01-17T10:01:00.001+01:00

zwei (sive lucisnegotium quatit!)
Originally uploaded by philipinperu.

confusion

2006-09-22T11:57:00.000+02:00

*Confusion is the welcome mat at the door of creativity
*Michael J. Gelb

[if you follow the link by clicking on the three colored balls, you'll discover a wonderful photographer]

2006-09-12T20:13:00.000+02:00

Felix Frankfurter, a famous judge of U.S.A. Supreme Court of Justice, wrote this letter to a young man he knew, who wanted to become a lawyer.
I read it today, but these words have been my rule of life in the last ten years.

"My dear Paul,
No one can be a truly competent lawyer unless he is a cultivated man. If I were you, I would forget about any technical preparation for the law. The best way to prepare for the law is to come to the study of law as a well-read person. Thus alone can one acquire the capacity to use the English language on paper and in speech and with the habits of clear thinking which only a truly liberal education can give. No less important for a lawyer is the cultivation of the imaginative faculties by reading poetry, seeing great paintings ... and listening to great music. Stock your mind with the deposit of much good reading, and widen and deepen your feelings by experiencing vicariously as much as possible the wonderful mysteries of the universe, and forget all about your future career.
With good wishes,
Sincerely yours,
Felix Frankfurter"

dearly though we seek to learn

2006-09-06T18:51:00.000+02:00

Originally uploaded by babeffe.

"Chorus: Hast thou heard
Some tiding sure? Or is it Hope, hath stirred
To fire these altars? Dearly though we seek
To learn, 'tis thine to speak or not to speak."

[Aeschylus, The Agamemnon

paraiso

2006-08-01T14:45:00.000+02:00

"El paraiso no es un lugar donde ir, es un estadio del alma para vivir"

"Heaven is not a place to go, but a state of mind to live"

I read this sentence on a shopbag years ago. Never forgot it.
I'm going far away, but heaven will always be IN me.

breathing under water

2006-07-28T13:57:00.000+02:00

and living under glass

this is just too much

2006-07-26T11:24:00.000+02:00

even for a tough person like me.

oh, Bycchis...

2006-07-20T17:00:00.000+02:00

"It's wrong for our minds to dwell upon care
for no man, heartsick, marches ahead.
Bycchis, the finest tonic for man
is to bring out the wine and get drunk"
[Alcaeus, fragment 335

persons. perceptions. relations.

2006-07-14T12:54:00.000+02:00

It seems that in the last weeks I've been having an incredible attitude to communicate with people.
I met many new persons. I met again some others I've been knowing since a bit. I kept meeting my friends. I've been writing or receiving letters from old ones.
All of them - each one in his own way - told me that I can communicate, that they love/need/appreciate my words. I feel grateful to these people. They just gave me what I was missing most.
Even if...it was not exactly this. But it works, anyhow.
I'm richer than two moths ago.

[thanks to Honey B., artemisia, Könrad, niko.chan, antje, La Santa, viju, valeriaYOU, Giona (e la balena), raffolina, confusedvision, la gatta, amy, elise, benjamino]

dreams

2006-07-04T18:31:00.000+02:00

*it has never been my object to record my dreams, just to realize them
*Man Ray

two.seven.six

2006-07-03T17:43:00.000+02:00

duesettesei
Originally uploaded by **Aba**.

i just needed something. without even knowing what did i need. you seemed to know. you just gave it to me and smiled.
but still i'm frightened. the deep dark mysteries of my soul are still alive. like pandora's vase, something has been opened. and really i don't know how to close it again.
the only way i can imagine is to keep on receiving. i promised to myself last night i will. i'll keep. i'll receive.

pushing each other in the right direction

2006-06-29T12:20:00.000+02:00

i want it again.

once upon a time..

2006-06-28T16:44:00.000+02:00

..i used to feel understood without even talking. once upon a time, every new day brought new words and new feelings.

now.

i'm just slowly sliding away.

[Italian interlude]

2006-06-10T17:53:00.000+02:00

"All'epoca in cui me ne andavo in giro in bicicletta per mesi attraverso la Francia, il mio massimo piacere era fermarmi nei cimiteri di campagna, sdraiarmi fra le tombe, e fumare così per ore. Ci penso come al periodo più attivo della mia vita"

[Emil Cioran

self respect, habitude, hope, fear. and love.

2006-06-08T11:39:00.000+02:00

I often find myself unable to understand some people's behaviour. I thought about it reading the blog to which I link (the three coloured balls here above..).
It talks about a guy who hits his lover. And she keeps going out with him. She kinda feels she deserves it.

Why do we accept that some kind of bad things can continue happening in our lives?

Several times I've seen love stories that lead to this: to a progressive acceptation of some bad things, just because one cares too much about the relationship. But it's not only this: it's something deeper and more complicated than this.
For example, in this blog I read, the girl thinks to deserve it, and hopes that accepting everything may make things better one day. Her (1) LACK OF SELF RESPECT horrifies me, really. Reading the post in the blog, I had a strong and disgusting sensation in the stomach.
Some other times I've seen love stories grow sadder and sadder and the two of them accepting it just by (2) HABITUDE, standing there day after day, just acting like everything's normal. Then one day explode.
And some other times more I've seen (3) HOPE keeping two persons together, the hope that only working every day for the future and being able to bear all the problems, may one day make things better.
But there's more. I'm sure some of you have met at least one person with a (4) FEAR TO REMAIN ALONE so deep and strong, that forces him/her to bear anything, rather than being alone.
All these times, I found myself thinking: “I just don’t understand how one can be such a fucking idiot, to stand all this shit”. I could not understand such persons and I felt a huge pity for them, together with a deep rage.

Well, now… lack of self respect, habitude, hope, fear, are for sure among the biggest forces that run our lives. We are human beings, we’re so fragile in front of these forces – we are slave to these passions and often unable to control them.
And most of all, when in love, we just show to the other our soft spots, cause we trust our lover. Every single one of us has some soft spots, none excluded. We show to our lover how big is our fear and what scares us most. We talk everyday about our hopes. We often renounce to self respect for the sake of the other. The point is: it should be mutual.

Next time we face a situation like that, then, we should just think that it’s not a matter of not respecting oneself enough, being scared of staying alone, hoping too much or letting habitude win: it just depends on how big a piece of shit the other lover is.

carved into flesh

2006-06-07T16:49:00.000+02:00

Some pains are too deep to be forgot, they are just carved into flesh in some little hidden place.
You can try to cancel them, you can think for a while they are gone away, you can try to just live as they do not exist. But they do.
They come out of a little detail: a name on the newspaper, a smell in the street, a song on the radio.
Every corner is a present danger. The shadow of one of your pains can come out of it at any moment, and you know far too well that the little scar will ache once more.
And then again.

<==

2006-05-17T10:48:00.000+02:00

*instead of seeking new landscapes, develop new eyes
*marcel proust

Milano, Italia

2006-05-02T19:01:00.000+02:00

Milano usa e getta (Nikon FM2-Agfa APx400-bw-p)
Originally uploaded by didì.

what really scares me to death is man's attitude to destroy the world, without even realizing that this simply is suicidal.
how long it will take to human beings to stop polluting in this crazy manner?

invitation to a journey

2006-04-19T12:05:00.000+02:00

I invite you to a journey
in that country you really look like.
The languid suns of its foggy skies
have for my soul the enchantment
of your eyes when they shimmer overshadowed.
Over there, everything is order and beauty,
peace and delight.
The world falls asleep in a warm light
made by hyacint and gold.
Vagabond vessels sleep lazily,
arrived from every corner
to satisfy your desires.
Le matin j'écoutais
les sons du jardin
la langage des parfums
des fleurs.
[Franco Battiato, Invito al viaggio
_________________________________

Ti invito al viaggio
in quel paese che ti somiglia tanto.
I soli languidi dei suoi cieli annebbiati
hanno per il mio spirito l'incanto
dei tuoi occhi quando brillano offuscati.
Laggiù tutto é ordine e bellezza,
calma e voluttà.
Il mondo s'addormenta in una calda luce
di giacinto e d'oro.
Dormono pigramente i vascelli vagabondi
arrivati da ogni confine
per soddisfare i tuoi desideri.
Le matin j'écoutais
les sons du jardin
la langage des parfums
des fleurs.
[Franco Battiato, Invito al viaggio

youcannot

2006-04-06T11:57:00.000+02:00

el ataque de las gomas
Originally uploaded by DAREN SANCHEZ.

youcannotcancelmelikearubberwithapencildraw.
fuck.

my eyes are bigger than my belly is

2006-03-30T18:04:00.000+02:00

and this makes me sick.

here's a toast

2006-03-16T15:41:00.000+01:00

here's a toast
Originally uploaded by **Aba**.

"so here's a toast to all the folks that live in palestine, afghanistan,
iraq, el salvador

here's a toast to the folks living on the pine ridge reservation
under the stone cold gaze of mt. rushmore

here's a toast to all those nurses and doctors
who daily provide women with a choice
who stand down a threat the size of oklahoma city
just to listen to a young woman's voice

here's a toast to all the folks on death row right now
awaiting the executioner's guillotine
who are shackled there with dread and can only escape into their heads
to find peace in the form of a dream, peace in the form of a dream"

from Ani di Franco, Self Evident

...cause we've got to smile, no matter what we are talking about.

you need a medium to look fearlessly at the world.

2006-03-07T18:18:00.000+01:00

you need a medium to look fearlessly at the world.
Originally uploaded by **Aba**.

and i have to admit that i REALLY like it.

Acrobats and fog

2006-01-18T19:17:00.000+01:00

Acrobats and fog
Originally uploaded by **Aba**.

Once I was able to climb high and then take a look down, and then climb higher.
I was talented in it. I was a fast thunderish child with a firework in the place of the heart and a tin can of the stomach.
Today, I have a firework in the stomach and my heart tinkles as a tin can. But I can climb even higher.

Diluvial

2005-12-15T18:54:00.000+01:00

I am
this sweaty flesh,
I am all the reflections in the thousand droplets
and more: I am the back
wet like a leaf.

And then
I am also the bare chair
under an old porch
out of the rain
and soon I become the wind
that empties the sky
in the brief time of a thought.

I unload my rage
after I drunk it
like a glass
of easy water,
I flow like fluid in your veins
and I lean
on your weak spot.

I soak with me and my blood
your land and your house,
I downpour into you
like a dirty day.

everything i've ever thought

2005-12-15T10:58:00.000+01:00

a new friend today helped me to clarify what i have in mind. we chatted in a perfect, smart, direct, truthful, passionate way.
in the end, she has told me:
"sometimes i'd like to cancel everything i know and everything i've ever thought".
i agree. sometimes i feel like i can explode.

profile

2005-12-01T18:49:00.000+01:00

asshole

[almost a] poet

naiv

[almost a] lawyer

bloody

hell bent

frightened

diluvial

Red thread

2005-11-22T15:58:00.000+01:00

Red thread
Originally uploaded by _KoAn_.

yes, there's a red thread which connects some of us.
and we all have many threads.
i have one red thread, which connects me to deanna.

a wonderful photographer, _KoAn_, decided to take a picture of that red thread, and to explain me about his existence.
now i really know what is this, this link between us, this incredible manner i have to feel uncomplete and lonely when you are not there. now i understand.

thank you from the bottom of my heart, _KoAn_, for this picture and for all the others that you have taken us

wallow in you

2005-11-16T10:50:00.000+01:00

till now, i never had written about where comes from the title of this blog. it's a song by ani di franco (once again, yes..), but i was waiting for a day which would have been FIT to the song. so here's the day, and here's the song, and here's the verse. enjoy and have a toast to me, if you have the heart to.

grey

the sky is grey
the sand is grey
and the ocean is grey
and i feel right at home
in this stunning monochrome
alone in my way
i smoke and i drink
and every time i blink
i have a tiny dream
but as bad as i am
i'm proud of the fact
that i'm worse than i seem

what kind of paradise am i looking for?
i've got everything i want and still i want more
maybe some tiny shiny thing
will wash up on the shore

you walk through my walls like a ghost on tv
you penetrate me
and my little pink heart
is on its little brown raft
floating out to sea
and what can i say
but i'm wired this way
and you're wired to me
and what can i do
but wallow in you
unintentionally

what kind of paradise am i looking for?
i've got everything i want and still i want more
maybe some tiny shiny thing
will wash up on the shore

regretfully
i guess i've only got three
simple things to say:
why me?
why this now?
why this way?

with overtones ringing
undertows pulling away
under a sky that is grey
on sand that is grey
by an ocean that's grey

what kind of paradise am i looking for?
i've got everything i want and still i want more
maybe some tiny shiny thing
will wash up on the shore

What Matters

2005-11-15T16:49:00.000+01:00

What Matters
Originally uploaded by Sarahbelle1.

this is simply r i g h t .

me in trilogy/chronology

2005-10-13T13:51:00.000+02:00

1985
i was nine years old, between the fourth and the fifth year of the primary school, i used to read a lot.
i was introvert and taciturn, insecure, very sensitive, in love with women's naked knees during the summer.
i went to cinema every day, because that way i could see my father.
i was mad for besame mucho sung by nat king cole.
i used to think of the year 2000 and tell myself: "i'll be 24, i'll be an old man".
i used to play with toy soldiers and i made the noises of the galloping horses, of the shooting rifles and of the howling redskins.
at least once a week, i got the urge to kill my sister.
i never sunbathed, at the beach.
i had straight and shiny hair, and eyes a lot more slanting. once in a restaurant some japanese people started talking in japanese with me.
my favorite season was winter. most of all, i loved the rain.
as an adult, i wanted to be an archaeologist, or the petrol station attendant, cause i liked the sponge with which you clean the windshield.

2005

i am restless, often taken by abstract furies.
i am extrovert and chatty, enthusiastic and curious, laughing too much.
i have always a strong sensation that i'm loosing something, that i'm not taking all i could from life, even if i sleep only 4 hours and never rest during the whole day.
i am in love with deanna, more than i could have imagined one could be.
i love to walk in this city, to catch its eterogeneity and get wet by it.
i dance and write and make love and take photographs and read and sing and listen to music and draw and talk on the phone and work and cook and go out and laugh, however serious it is.
i dream of opening a restaurant, sooner or later, and spend my evenings there, chatting with people.
i miss my parents, cause it's been 11 years we live in different towns.
i quitted coffee and i feel like i quitted a wife.
i accept reality, whatever it takes.

2025

i'll be retired form my present job, having saved money enough to have a good yield and to take care of what is dear to my heart.
i'll be with deanna. married? who cares. with children? the more i can have, or adopt.
i'll have less friends, but better ones.
i'll be more calm, wise, efficient.
i'll be with my sister.
maybe i'll have some regrets, but i will carefully do not confess them to anybody.
still and forever i'll have no pets.
with a soft spot for great wines.
with a soft spot for people younger than me.
as ever, with a blameworthy past behind.

invito al viaggio

2005-10-11T17:47:00.000+02:00

"Ti invito al viaggio in quel paese che ti somiglia tanto.
I soli languidi dei suoi cieli annebbiati hanno per il mio spirito l'incanto
dei tuoi occhi quando brillano offuscati.
Laggiù tutto é ordine e bellezza, calma e voluttà.
Il mondo s'addormenta
in una calda luce di giacinto e d'oro.
Dormono pigramente i vascelli vagabondi
arrivati da ogni confine
per soddisfare i tuoi desideri.
Le matin j'écoutais
les sons du jardin
la langage des parfums des fleurs."

no translation, this time. i really have no time.

tram deposit

2005-10-04T12:01:00.000+02:00

tram deposit
Originally uploaded by **Aba**.

sometimes, while we are walking, you stop and you take your camera out of your bag
something has caught your eye, and your eye wants to catch it too
while you take your photograph i feel for a moment something different from you, something external
and this
makes me want to photograph you

writing, suffering

2005-09-12T19:09:00.000+02:00

yet another thing to say about writing.
i can't remember the author, but years and years ago i read this sentence: "Every art comes out from suffering". i believe it. by which i don't mean that art can speak only about pain - it's just the creative process: it comes from suffering, just it. when you are a poet, and you want to write about happiness, is because it sounds sooo strange in front of the usual pain that pushes your hand to write down on the paper. nobody has ever spoken about happiness, like the ones who really deeply suffered.

lately i've been very happy, lately i did not write. today, a totally accidental fact made me suffer deeply, and i wrote. i wrote two posts. every art comes out from suffering. that is damn right.

writing, living

2005-09-12T18:38:00.000+02:00

i did not write for a while on the blog, and when i think about it, i realize that i did not write cause i LIVED a lot. holidays, work, then holidays again, then work again, and in the meanwhile packaging a whole house, and thousands of kilometres done, both phisically and spiritually.

maybe it's just the old story: writers have to chose - live or write, trick or treat.
in a novel by Graham Greene, The Comedians, i read last week: "They say that for writers it is always the first twenty years of life that contain the whole experience—the rest is observation". here it is: twety years of living, and then all the rest of time of writing. maybe we can talk about it in percentage: 20% of living, 80% of writing, but it could be reductionist.

the fact is: to write, you need to cut yourself off the world, to sit down in a silent and empty room, you the paper the pen the flowing of your thoughts the ghosts of your fears the things you love more the people you hate your secret desires and all the rest.
if life enters the room, you just let the pen fall.

last days

2005-08-03T11:59:00.000+02:00

last days of work before holidays
last things to do before leaving
last feelings to feel before the pause
and then, in september, a new beginning

cause when you work, new year's day is just the first day back to work after summer holidays
and folks, i miss the ages in which i did not work

revelling

2005-07-27T10:18:00.000+02:00

"you were so in love
that it was all you could talk about
and i think i felt a little left out
you were on cloud 9 all the time
while i was levelling
i was wringing my hands and you were revelling

but then why shouldn't you?
it was such a beautiful thing to do

would that i could get me some
of your yum yum delirium
i could level off the ground that we stand on
but with you down on bended knee
always looking up at me
that feeling of standing up together is gone"

[Ani Di Franco, Revelling

sunday morning - the other one

2005-07-26T10:41:00.000+02:00

"Sunday morning and I’m falling
I’ve got a feeling I don’t want to know
Early dawning, sunday morning
It’s all the streets you crossed, not so long ago"
[The Velvet Underground and Nico, Sunday Morning

Nico's voice haunts me once more

I used to listen to that lp almost everyday, when in high school.
Now, it's just too much intense for my heart.
Never felt anything like this, you reader?

thicker

2005-07-12T10:26:00.000+02:00

here it is: a new way of living

i look backward at my past, and i find my life has totally changed

the change has happened deep inside me: i look at the world with new eyes, my head's crossed by new thoughts

everything is more thick, everything is composed and more tasty

i love life even more than i used to do

The day before

2005-06-28T13:54:00.000+02:00

The day before
Originally uploaded by **Aba**.

the day before my exam.
perfection doesn't exist.
fuck it.

our world belongs to the strongest

2005-05-25T16:58:00.000+02:00

-ToileT-
Originally uploaded by -ScarlettveinZ-.

democracy?
DEMOCRACY??

our world still belong to the strongest

the problem is: it's not a matter of men and women anymore
it's a matter of the rich and the poor

fuck it. i hate becoming so politically extremist. but world is extreme. fuck it.

sunday morning

2005-05-23T17:31:00.000+02:00

once again, ani di franco's lyrics express feelings i just know perfectly...

sunday morning
slow beats seething
through the screens
in the open windows
eggs frying
legs shaking
after we stayed lying so long in bed
sunday morning
both of us reading
and looking up occasionally
looking up occasionally

sunday morning
you're doing your thing
and i am doing mine
speaking words more a formality
cuz we can feel we are of one mind
sunday morning
sheets still warm
kitties swarming around our feet
life comes easy
your sweet company
making it so complete...

Missing

2005-05-19T17:20:00.000+02:00

Missing
Originally uploaded by aqui-ali.

something misses in my life these days

you're far away, travelling as usual

you see things for me, you register and gather and record

then you come back (cause you always come back), we sit on the couch, you open your bag, you give me amazing presents, you tell me your stories, you paint in the air the places you've seen

your voice empties the living room, your eyes lighten in the dark, your hand holds mine, and i kiss you on your back

night falls, and once more

i have traveled with you

the unspeakable pleasure given by a new word

2005-05-05T16:27:00.000+02:00

i was reading from the blog of a flickr user, sim dawdler, when i discovered two new words

this made me feel again as i always feel when i meet a word i don't know: it helps me focusing, better understanding a certain feeling, a certain situation, a certain kind of person - whatever the word means, it's just a way to better cut a concept, as it was an uncut diamond needing to be shaped

this gives me pleasure
an intellectual pleasure, difficult to describe,
but still a pure one

deep beneath

2005-05-03T09:59:00.000+02:00

deep beneath, hidden in the bends and the groins - that's where you can find my actual self, if you really wanna know

can i feel nostalgia for something i never had?

2005-04-29T16:36:00.000+02:00

can i waste a nice spring day having sad thoughts all the time?
can i be so stupid shortsighted repetitious, doing all the time the same errors?
can i still keep telling lies to myself, while i understood the truth many months ago?
can i feel jealous for things happened in the past, while i was doing things even worse?
can i feel like somebody stole me something important months ago, while it was ME who was stealing?
can i feel nostalgia for something i never had?

you shall know my velocity

2005-04-19T10:21:00.000+02:00

i have big problems in managing my life: there are too many things i wanna do, to many people to meet, to many places to see, too many artists to understand - i have not enough time.

i don't sleep much, i don't watch tv nor spend any evening just on the couch without doing anything significant, but still i have not enough time.

growing up means - first of all - learning how to say "No" to some things - clearly i'm not growing up.

but still: how can i manage it? how can i say "No!" to any single fragment of beauty and joy?

Good book

2005-04-13T12:51:00.000+02:00

Good book
Originally uploaded by av_producer.

a good book is a source of subtle and soft pleasure

i am going now to anjoy the sun: a bench in the park, a good book (by the way, The Dice Man, by Luke Rhinehart), a bunch of happy thoughts, nothing else

happiness sometimes is a simple fruit to gather

until

2005-04-09T13:59:00.000+02:00

Our shadows on the beach
Originally uploaded by Jill.

..until we become 2 shadows, and the link between us becomes corporal.

shadow/shadows

2005-04-07T12:03:00.000+02:00

i am made by the shadows of the past,
built with mental and corporal memories

i am presently a shadow,
cause the monolitic self i used to be
has freed himself from the myth of identity

i am made by the shadows
of all the things still to come:
in front of me they lenghten
like a shadow in the sun

but still i feel like a whole-material-made animal
and sometimes a shadow seems to me just a shadow

2005-04-07T12:02:00.002+02:00

my shadow. on ice.
Originally uploaded by norwegianmale.

2005-04-07T12:02:00.001+02:00

shadow, mine
Originally uploaded by .food 4 eyes..

2005-04-07T12:02:00.000+02:00

cieÅ
Originally uploaded by Agnieszka.

2005-04-07T12:00:00.000+02:00

Playing Solitaire
Originally uploaded by Agnieszka.

Imagination Is A True Story

2005-04-06T13:03:00.000+02:00

Imagination Is A True Story
Originally uploaded by Ambiance-Moushkila.

nothing is real, except what's in our heads

AND

what happens IMMATERIALLY between us

monkey

2005-04-01T11:57:00.000+02:00

monkey on yellow wall
Originally uploaded by awfulsara.

i stand here on a seat, watching the world flowing in front of me

i climb walls and buildings and mountains, reaching for my limits

i love to be naked

i don't feel superior to any human being

i love trees, the tallest the best

i love to have sex, and i'll love my children

i scream

i love to walk in the nature, and i don't want to destroy it, cause it's just my natural habitat

i'm a monkey

springtime

2005-03-18T13:14:00.000+01:00

Já pintou verão
Calor no coração
A festa vai começar

Eu queria
Que essa fantasia fosse eterna
Quem sabe um dia
A paz vence a guerra
E viver será só festejar, eô, eô

[Banda Beijo, Baianidade nagô

happiness is a strange fruit

2005-03-17T16:40:00.000+01:00

which is the exact word for this? is it happiness? is it love? is it fullfillness?
there must be an exact word, cause that's what language's for: to express what exists, to tell us about reality...

but still i can't find the exact word: happiness is too mentioned, love is too, fullfillness is too... "one way headed"

and happiness + love + fullfillness could maybe express the idea, but sure it's not A word

happiness is a strange fruit: it has more flavours that we can imagine, and sometimes it just fits our soul like a tailor made suit.

promise

2005-03-01T23:11:00.000+01:00

destiny
Originally uploaded by hinke.

sooner or later...
we'll be there.

"the answer came, like a shot in the back.."

2005-02-25T10:48:00.000+01:00

sometimes we ask question whose answers we don't wanna hear,
but this doesn't stop us from asking

curiosity is the driving force of both knowledge and pain,
as i learned from Marcel Proust long ago

it pushes us towards things we don't know, even if they could bring us pain

and if u think about it, many philosophers in history have talked about how happy ignorant people are

and, yes, i don't wanna ignore anything: i wanna know, i wanna learn

j'ai soif, encore

me and ivan

2005-02-24T19:10:00.000+01:00

life's a path, and special people we meet are the milestones

meet ivan "lord john minutes", a special friend, already

here we are, last saturday, talking about the juicy little things that make life worth to be sucked

Abierto - Cerrado

2005-02-22T20:39:00.000+01:00

Abierto - Cerrado
Originally uploaded by Chibizumi.

open - closed

just like i feel these days

i am intermittent, once more

i ask myself: but who is not?

PS: this picture's not mine, but i found it on

www.flickr.com

2005-02-16T12:14:00.000+01:00

why can't i draw your face?

double face

2005-02-14T17:04:00.000+01:00

here it is: identity
it's a matter i've been thinking about a lot, these last months

i've also written some posts about it here on my blog (multiple identity, party invitation, real self / virtual self)

and i've also created a group on flickr: double face

i think that today identity is, more than in the past, a complex issue, and everchanging too
we have less limits (social ones, most of all, but also ethical, familiar, political..), cause we have more freedom
we also have more inputs from the putside world: we read more, we watch tv, etc etc
AND
we have this second dimension: the web, which is a sort of parallel universe, in which we often have ANOTHER identity

so then: is our time the time fo double identity? or is it just a less unitary identity we have, made of fragments that somehow are put together but some kind of interior (or just physical) tape?

multiple identity

2005-02-03T13:22:00.000+01:00

i'd like to be at least some 4 or 5 persons more
being one, i have these enormous limits
actually, my soul has no limits at all - the problem is that i have only one body, and i live in time and space
these are my limits, and this is my will to overpass them

the only thing i can do is sleep less than i do
but then, aren't 4 or 5 hours per night already too little?

but then again: WHO THE HELL CARES?

unuseful

2005-02-01T20:03:00.000+01:00

i'm not totally unuseful: at least, i serve as a bad example.
oooh yes.

what is this?

2005-01-27T11:06:00.000+01:00

what is this, this link between two people, this direct connection which brings so much joy, so much pain, so much confusion, so much happiness?
is this love? can we call it that way? this fountain of neverending tranformations, this fluid stream of emotions?

my pain, my brother

2005-01-21T14:14:00.000+01:00

sometimes we just feel we need to go into deep, to reach the very limit of the pain we can feel - sometimes we just chose to feel a pain, to face it, to be totally penetrated by it - sometimes we meet a pain we just cannot resist: its charm captures us, catches our hand and brings us to the very back of its black cavern

i faced my pain today: it had the stiff flavor of a dirty body, it had red eyes like the devil and an empty gaze which told me: "Here we are again, me and you, you against yourself, my strenght against your belly, and you know there's no winning at all"

and yes, here we are - my pain has a face, it has a past, and some stories to tell
its eyes saw many more things than i saw, its hands have been dirty of many dusts,
its heart has felt the desert, but
it has lost it, too.

and you know, it's not a matter of comparison nor there's any prize to win: it's just a matter of bad timing, of possession, of memories from the past carved deep into the skin, of the way certain feelings stay stuck on the objects and the furniture, just a matter of the things we'd like to have done some years ago..
and it's a matter of sharing, too: me and my pain, well, we share the same touching hand, the same voice, the same way to be loved, the same under-the-roof-bed, the same intimate gaze caressing us, just like brothers share their mum

time divides us, and space, now, cause i'm locked in a room without a door while it's out catching the whole world with its eyes, and showing it to people

that's what i was thinking i would have done as an adult, when i was a little boy, that's what i thought i was cut for
but my eyesight is poor, my legs shake, my heart's weak, my passport
b l a n k

and there's nothing i can do now
my private revenge, my shiny little objects, my tidy little room are all
b l a c k
my palette has no colors but one

i've been raped once again, i've been slapped and beaten, i've been injured fatally, and you know what? i liked it, i wanted it, i just didn't lay a finger

but now my heart has no will but one: to go deep into this pain, search for the traces it has left everywhere, get dirty with its dirt, familiarize with its voice, spit on its face all the words i learned since i am born
then finally catch its neck and murmur to its ear
"i'm done with you, asshole, i'm done with your rabid reactions, i'm done with your evil habits, i'm done with your flak jacket, i'm done with your stiff presence"

and still it is my brother, somehow.

Your limbs

2005-01-20T17:15:00.000+01:00

Come posso dire se la tua voce è bella.
So soltanto che mi penetra
e mi fa tremare come una foglia
e mi lacera e mi dirompe.

Cosa so della tua pelle e delle tue membra.
Mi scuote soltanto che sono tue,
così che per me non c’è sonno né riposo,
finché non saranno mie.

How can I say if your voice is beautiful
I just know that it penetrates me
and makes me tremble like a leave
and it tears me and it shatters me.

What do I know of your skin and limbs.
It just shakes me they are yours,
so that for me there's no more sleep nor rest,
until they will be mine.

Karin Boye (1900 – 1941)

november, 2004 - bittersweet memories of you.

Poem on the back

2005-01-17T16:28:00.000+01:00

Poem on the back
Originally uploaded by **Aba**.

Tu tentenni, ed io
ti assalto, ti assedio
e quando finalmente inizio
ti spoglio.
Ma non c'e'
vestito che regga:
io ti vedo nuda
sempre, e non c'e'
vestito
che regga.

Ascoli, 1.I.2005

re-born a lion

2004-12-12T16:38:00.000+01:00

mosaico cattedrale
Originally uploaded by **Aba**.

i am strong
i am a lion
i can pass the test

only
if i really want it

light

2004-12-08T14:56:00.000+01:00

"..and i realized that night
that the hall light
which seemed so bright
when you turned it on
is nothing
compared to the dawn
which is nothing
compared to the light
which sips from me when you're sleeping,
cocooned in my room,
beautiful, grotesque, resting.."
[Ani di Franco, Pulse

manifest destiny

2004-11-28T16:40:00.000+01:00

some people we meet in our life, they just make u feel less alone in this world

it's a manifest destiny that we meet them, maybe

and yes, it is a lucky destiny we have

wallow in the past

2004-11-13T01:36:00.000+01:00

u know, coming home, coming back to your roots, in the house where u've grown up
the sweetness of so many memories, the touchable presence of high school years
the comforts which u don't have in the house u live in now
the late night chats with your parents

sha la la la sha la la la
i'm going home

a door without a handle is a wall

2004-11-09T17:53:00.000+01:00

this picture has been taken by a very good photographer, fubuki

i do believe we all have to put a handle on ourselves - which means we have to communicate, to let the others in.
and we have to open other doors, also, entering other persons' world.

cause alone we are nothing.
alone we are walls.

party invitation

2004-11-04T21:35:00.000+01:00

party invitation
Originally uploaded by **Aba**.

this is not a mirror
this is a party invitation

this is not a suit and a tie
this is me

things sometimes are not just
what they seem

and people sometimes are not just
the cloth they wear

(which in english is
"you can't judge a book by its cover",
actually)

real self / virtual self

2004-10-28T13:48:00.000+02:00

so many times i've heard or read people speaking about how false our virtual identity could be: they all say that the personality we have on chatlines, blogs, forums - in a word: on the internet - is very different from the one we have in real life. By this assumption, they argue that our internet-identity is a false one.

i don't agree. this is not always true, at least it absolutely is not for me.
my virtual self is very similar to the real one. the difference lays in this: my virtual self has no social conventions to respect, often it has no "historic memory" of me - by which i mean that i don't have to follow the trace of what i've been or said or wrote or done in the past, i don't have to be coherent with the "character" i'm in people's head

the internet is a chance for all of us to be more coherent to ourselves
but still it is a good chance to fake, too. but then, isn't our personality also revealed by the lies we say?

2004-10-25T22:01:00.000+02:00

i can't eat anything by sara b.

inspiring girl

2004-10-25T21:18:00.000+02:00

world's inspiring, always
people r inspiring, sometimes

my lil sister told me about this girl who puts up some pics on flickr, sara b.
so i go and c her pics there
and then i go and c her pics on the mirror project
and i suddenly think this eye of hers on the world and on the self just inspires me

everyone has his own perfect communicating instrument, his talent
i think this girl can communicate by the photographs she takes
i can bet she cannot talk in the same deep&direct way she talks with her shots

but which is mine? which is my perfect communicating instrument?
"the smile", A.R. said so many years ago, "but still your secret is that u do not communicate yourself at all, beneath it all" - and yes she was: she was right.

far away, so close

2004-10-21T14:50:00.000+02:00

2004-10-21T14:06:00.000+02:00

sometimes no matters how far from u a person is, u just feel so close that u could say u two can touch

then, writing on your notebook feels like writing on this person's skin and in this person's head - there's just this direct connection, this souls' telepathy

true life

2004-10-20T11:29:00.000+02:00

Just yesterday i finished reading a book that i really loved: True Tales of American Life(British edition; American one is entitled "I Thought My Father Was God"), edited by Paul Auster.
Some years ago, Auster was conducting a radio programme in which he asked the audience to send him true stories of real life, in which were involved the more mysterious aspects of life. Stories about small, turning-points in one's life. That was called "The National Story Project". The goal of the project was to collect stories from all over the country, all social classes, all ages, and about every aspect of life.
Auster received more than 4 thousands stories, 180 of which are published in this great book. The goal was hit.
The only work done by Auster was chosing 180 stories, giving each a title and dividing them in chapters, by argument (Dreams, Death, Love, Meditations, Slapstick, Animals, Strangers, etc). All the rest is pure distillation of the moments which make our lives more charming and intense than fiction, sometimes - all the rest is just writing at his very best.

"Sometimes it is good fortune to be abandoned. While we are looking after our losses, our selves may slip back inside" [Ameni Rozsa, An average sadness, which is the last story of the book

multinationals

2004-10-19T14:39:00.000+02:00

and the mighty multinationals
have monopolized the oxygen
so it's as easy as breathing
for us all to participate
yes they're buying and selling
off shares of air
and you know it's all around you
but it's hard to point and say "there"
[Ani di Franco, Your Next Bold Move

it's a sad thing to admit, but it's just the truth
and that's why the more and more
i am torn between the life i'm living
and another one -
in a place in which they are not arrived still,
in a place where i can really enjoy simple things in life,
living in harmony with mother earth and my brothers and sisters
- which are every single human being on earth.
what's this run for richness and progress for?
what's this trampling on environment, human rights, traditions?
THEY are killikng the beauty in the world
WE can do little to stop this
but still there's something we can do:
never stop thinking
never stop fighting
never stop being smart consumers
never stop telling the others
never stop loving earth
never stop loving people
never stop loving.

scatolina

2004-10-12T16:57:00.000+02:00

lil box with lucky lil objects

a bullet from the first round i shot with a gun

an egitptian beetle

a wild chestnut

a surrealist box (sirene's singing..)

a ladybug

and some other lil stuffs

days

2004-10-12T16:53:00.000+02:00

days keep fading away, like scarvy scars drying on the skin, like oil stains vanishing on the asphalt

"..and these days i feel like i'm fading away" [Adam Duritz

hey

2004-09-27T16:52:00.000+02:00

hey hey.
here i am