Thursday, October 28, 2010
Non c'è niente da capire
Sunday, October 24, 2010
Convention for those wounded in love
A – Whereas the saying “all is fair in love and war” is absolutely correct;
B – Whereas for war we have the Geneva Convention, approved on 22 August 1864, which provides for those wounded in the battle field, but until now no convention has been signed concerning those wounded in love, who are far greater in number;
It is hereby decreed that:
Article 1 – All lovers, of any sex, are alerted that love, besides being a blessing, is also something extremely dangerous, unpredictable and capable of causing serious damage. Consequently, anyone planning to love should be aware that they are exposing their body and soul to various types of wounds, and that they shall not be able to blame their partner at any moment, since the risk is the same for both.
Article 2 – Once struck by a stray arrow fired from Cupid’s bow, they should immediately ask the archer to shoot the same arrow in the opposite direction, so as not to be afflicted by the wound known as “unrequited love”. Should Cupid refuse to perform such a gesture, the Convention now being promulgated demands that the wounded partner remove the arrow from his/her heart and throw it in the garbage. In order to guarantee this, those concerned should avoid telephone calls, messages over the Internet, sending flowers that are always returned, or each and every means of seduction, since these may yield results in the short run but always end up wrong after a while. The Convention decrees that the wounded person should immediately seek the company of other people and try to control the obsessive thought: “this person is worth fighting for”.
Article 3 – If the wound is caused by third parties, in other words if the loved one has become interested in someone not in the script previously drafted, vengeance is expressly forbidden. In this case, it is allowed to use tears until the eyes dry up, to punch walls or pillows, to insult the ex-partner in conversations with friends, to allege his/her complete lack of taste, but without offending their honor. The Convention determines that the rule contained in Article 2 be applied: seek the company of other persons, preferably in places different from those frequented by the other party.
Article 4 – In the case of light wounds, herein classified as small treacheries, fulminating passions that are short-lived, passing sexual disinterest, the medicine called Pardon should be applied generously and quickly. Once this medicine has been applied, one should never reconsider one’s decision, not even once, and the theme must be completely forgotten and never used as an argument in a fight or in a moment of hatred.
Article 5 – In all definitive wounds, also known as “breaking up”, the only medicine capable of having an effect is called Time. It is no use seeking consolation from fortune-tellers (who always say that the lost lover will return), romantic books (which always have a happy ending), soap-operas on the television or other such things. One should suffer intensely, completely avoiding drugs, tranquilizers and praying to saints. Alcohol is only tolerated if kept to a maximum of two glasses of wine a day.
Final determination:
Those wounded in love, unlike those wounded in armed conflict, are neither victims nor torturers. They chose something that is part of life, and so they have to accept both the agony and the ecstasy of their choice.
And those who have never been wounded in love will never be able to say: “I have lived”. Because they haven’t.
(Paulo Coelho - http://paulocoelhoblog.com/2010/08/21/convention-of-those-wounded-in-love-2/)
Wednesday, October 20, 2010
I Think I'll Disappear Now
Is like catching a sniff of tequila in the morning
But I'll try, I'll try to keep my food down
That's quite an after-taste that you've left now that you're not around
You can just pretend we're not in the same room
Well, alright, I'll just mosey to the bathroom
You flew by like a summer vacation
And you left me with TV-movies and a messy kitchen
I think I'll disappear now, slip out sideways
Just for awhile - but until then I'll stay in and sleep late, excuse me
I'll buy a fast car, I'll drive fast from here
There's a beach I haven't seen since last year -
It's far, but I like night drives;
It just makes it nicer when I do arrive
Aren't you going to miss me?
Aren't you going to even say one thing to me anymore?
Well, you can bet that I'll forget how it was then:
All the drives to your farm for the weekend ...
But I've seen the swimsuit magazines
And I've smelled tequila the first thing in the morning
(Brad Roberts)
Tuesday, October 19, 2010
Break the glass!
It is cool. But I am afraid it is not my business anymore. At least for a while.
(from: "By the River Piedra I Sat Down and Wept" by Paulo Coelho)
"I want to talk about the other kind of love."
He reached out to caress my face. The wine made things easier for him. And for me. "Why did you stop so suddenly? Why don't you want to talk about God and the Virgin and the spiritual world?"
"I want to talk about the other kind of love," he said again. "The love that a man and a woman share, and in which there are also miracles."
I took his hands. He might know of the great mysteries of the Goddess, but he didn't know any more than I did about love—even though he had traveled much more than I had.
We held hands for a long time. I could see in his eyes the deep fears that true love tests us with. I could see that he was remembering the rejection of the night before, as well as the long time we had been separated, and his years in the monastery, searching for a world where such anxieties didn't intrude.
I could see in his eyes the thousands of times that he had imagined this moment and the scenes he had constructed about us. I wanted to say that yes, he was welcome, that my heart had won the battle. I wanted to tell him how much I loved him and how badly I wanted him at that moment.
But I was silent. I witnessed, as if in a dream, his inner conflict. I could see that he was wondering whether I'd reject him again, that he was thinking about his fear of losing me, and about the hard words he had heard at other, similar times—because we all have such experiences, and they leave scars.
His eyes gleamed. He was ready to surmount any barrier.
I took one of my hands from his and placed my glass of wine at the edge of the table. "It's going to fall," he said.
"Exactly. I want you to tip it over the edge."
"Break the glass?"
Yes, break the glass. A simple gesture, but one that brings up fears we can't really understand. What's wrong with breaking an inexpensive glass, when everyone has done so unintentionally at some time in their life?
"Break the glass?" he repeated. "Why?"
"Well, I could give you lots of reasons," I answered. "But actually, just to break it."
"For you?
"No, of course not."
He eyed the glass on the edge of the table—worried that it might fall.
It's a rite of passage, I wanted to say. It's something prohibited. Glasses are not purposely broken. In a restaurant or in our home, we're careful not to place glasses by the edge of a table. Our universe requires that we avoid letting glasses fall to the floor.
But when we break them by accident, we realize that it's not very serious. The waiter says, "It's nothing," and when has anyone been charged for a broken glass? Breaking glasses is part of life and does no damage to us, to the restaurant, or to anyone else. I bumped the table. The glass shook but didn't fall.
"Careful!" he said, instinctively.
"Break the glass," I insisted.
Break the glass, I thought to myself, because it's a symbolic gesture. Try to understand that I have broken things within myself that were much more important than a glass, and I'm happy I did. Resolve your own internal battle, and break the glass.
Our parents taught us to be careful with glasses and with our bodies. They taught us that the passions of childhood are impossible, that we should not flee from priests, that people cannot perform miracles, and that no one leaves on a journey without knowing where they are going.
Break the glass, please—and free us from all these damned rules, from needing to find an explanation for every thing, from doing only what others approve of.
"Break the glass," I said again.
He stared at me. Then, slowly, he slid his hand along the tablecloth to the glass. And with a sudden movement, he pushed it to the floor.
The sound of the breaking glass caught the waiter's attention. Rather than apologize for having broken the glass, he looked at me, smiling—and I smiled back.
"Doesn't matter," shouted the waiter.
But he wasn't listening. He had stood, seized my hair in his hands, and was kissing me. I clutched at his hair, too, and squeezed him with all my strength, biting his lips and feeling his tongue move in my mouth. This was the kiss I had waited for so long—a kiss born by the rivers of our childhood, when we didn't yet know what love meant. A kiss that had been suspended in the air as we grew, that had traveled the world in the souvenir of a medal, and that had remained hidden behind piles of books. A kiss that had been lost so many times and now was found. In the moment of that kiss were years of searching, disillusionment, and impossible dreams.
I kissed him hard. The few people there in the bar must have been thinking that all they were seeing was just a kiss. They didn't know that this kiss stood for my whole life and his life, as well. The life of anyone who has waited, dreamed, and searched for their true path.
The moment of that kiss contained every happy moment I had ever lived.
He took off my clothes and entered me with strength, with fear, and with great desire. I ran my hands over his face, heard his moans, and thanked God that he was there inside me, making me feel as if it were the first time.
We made love all night long—our lovemaking blended with our sleeping and dreaming. I felt him inside me and embraced him to make sure that this was really happening, to make sure that he wouldn't disappear, like the knights who had once inhabited this old castle-hotel. The silent walls of stone seemed to be telling stories of damsels in distress, of fallen tears and endless days at the window, looking to the horizon, looking for a sign of hope.
But I would never go through that, I promised myself. I would never lose him. He would always be with me—because I had heard the tongues of the Holy Spirit as I looked at a crucifix behind an altar, and they had said that I would not be committing a sin. I would be his companion, and together we would tame a world that was going to be created anew. We would talk about the Great Mother, we would fight at the side of Michael the Archangel, and we would experience together the agony and the ecstasy of pioneers. That's what the tongues had said to me—and because I had recovered my faith, I knew they were telling the truth.
Thursday, October 14, 2010
Rome - again
Do you remember this place?
We have been there. The first time we have been spending a night together in Rome.
It has been one of our crazy things. I took a plane at the last minute on Sunday morning to spend time with you. And on Monday morning we took a quick tour around the centre of the city.
It was so nice. It was very peculiar to see where you live, to be in your city with you. It was something I have been dreaming for quite a long time.
We stopped at the Intimissimi shop to buy some underwear for you. And there I did joke about your picture on your id.
Do you remember or have you already removed it from your mind?
Every time I come in this wonderful city is a pain. Every step, every corner reminds me that you are around there.
This morning it was like if I could feel your presence. I wanted to call you and tell you where I was. To come to you and say "ok please tell me all of this is just a joke".
But I could not because it is not right.
"You're getting on that plane with Victor where you belong". Do you remember Casablanca?
So I have been there like "a guy standing on a station platform in the rain with a comical look in his face because his insides have been kicked out".
Maybe, and I say maybe, one day I will laugh about all of this mess and I will keep only the sweets things about us. But so far I can't and I am running like an asshole and I am not moving.
Maybe one day I will be glad to go to Rome again and see that wonderful city. It was my favourite one. It used to be the best city in the world and not I hate it.
Everytime a customer ask me to go there is like a nightmare and I look forward to fly back.
Maybe, one day, I will feel a bigger emotion there with someone and finally I clean up my mind. As my mind is now full of images, feelings, emotions and you are there.
I have no clue if I will be able to feel those emotions with anyone. So far I am only keeping anyone at security distance and frankly it sucks.
Maybe one day I will be able to associate Via Frattina, Via del Corso and Porta Pia to a person that will be able to see what I have inside and protect it. I'd like to look at the Train Station without my heart stopping beating for a little while every time.
I can only dream that for now. I am not sure I can find anyone willing to take the desert which is inside me and put a flower there. I am not sure anyone wants to come with me in Rome if I tell her the truth.
I hate myself because I do not associate almost anything to a song or anything like this. But I have a map of my world and for every place I associate a person. And when I used to love that person and it is not the case anymore, I can't stand in that place. It hurts too much.
I would like to change life. Go somewhere far away so no chance of being in Rome again. But this is tough and not even the best solution.
I need to be patient and "keep looking, don't settle".
And I hate myself also because I am writing to someone who will never ever come here to read what I have to say. Even if you know, inside of your heart, that this blog was originally there for you.
Maybe you do not care. Or maybe you just want to face your own secret world and forget what we used to be.
Another shame.
Noodles.
--
Sent from a tiny keyboard
Please ignore typos unless they are funny
Monday, October 11, 2010
Good bye Rome
When the plane took off I could see the sea. It was dark green in the middle. Then it was more and more light green to become almost gray / yellow when close to the beach.
It was nice, I did look like a child looking out of the window.
And I think I have been able to see Fregene as well. Do you remember that night? It has been special, right? We have been sitting outside in that restaurant, looking to the planes leaving from the airport at night. I did not tell you at that time but my dream was to take one with you and fly away, to a new world where we could be only the two of us.
I miss that night. And I miss the feeling that sometimes I have been able to fell with you. Like if the rest of the world could not understand what was between us.
But at some point we entered in the clouds and I could not see the sea. Not anymore. Everything white and useless.
You said I did not give the last chance. I gave you tons of chances and you have always refused them.
I am pretty sure you will see him tonight. I am pretty sure you kept making love with him in the past months.
You know how holy is the fact of making love for me. And I could feel you were with him. I could also see it from time to time. And how could you ask me to make love with you in such a scenario.
Did you understand so little of my soul? Why you kept asking to make love without giving the whole of you? You knew it was important to me, you knew it was not just a matter of sex and you kept predending that everything was perfect and cool.
How can you expect myself to make love with you if you are not mine?
And you know what? I am really sorry. I put all of my chips on this story. All that I have got. And I have lost. Not in one shot, I kept playing and slowly I have lost all of my chips.
I might go to Las Vegas and try to be lucky at least there.
Sometimes I ask myself what is logic. What is true. What is real. And I can not clearly see the whole story, everything appear fuzzy.
And now I am kind of cold. And you complained about it. Yes - I have not been clear in the last three weeks before we broke. But you could see it was not the same as before. You could see that I was disappointed, tired and far away with my mind.
And, think about it, you have never shown yourself here for what you are? Are you real? Are you reading this or have you already started deleting me?
Are you brave enough to tell the world who you are? If you are really alone, with nothing to lose, you can do it. But I am not sure this is the case with you.
I have never existed for anyone else outside of your mind. I was a secret, something to hide, something to be taken at small pieces but not too much. Something that you could not show because I was not what your small world expected by you.
I have been brave. I have destroyed two world to be with you.
You kept your world and you have built a parallel world just for me. And, sorry, but I don't give a damn of just a parallel world. I wanted the whole of you. And that night, in Milan, the first night, it has been a piece of magic world.
But once again, someone else was better than me. Even if the sex was great, despite my kindness, despite the time spent listening to what your heart wanted to tell me, despite I was "the only one who could understand who you are'.
Take care, sweet dream of two letters.
I will survive. I have to.
Noodles.
--
Sent from a tiny keyboard
Please ignore typos unless they are funny
Wasn't Rome supposed to be sunny?
"It's being a bad day, please don't take a picture".
(Looking forward to my return plane...)
--
Sent from a tiny keyboard
Please ignore typos unless they are funny
Friday, October 8, 2010
A memory from the past - our "first time"
We have spent lot of time thinking to it, guessing how it could be, dreaming about it.
We both knew it would have been wonderful and we took our time.
And when the time finally arrived, we were almost asleep. After a long, never-ending night talking, kissing, teasing and touching.
Your skin so perfect, white and clean like snow at the north pole.
Your smell so incredibly good, something I will never be able to forget.
The time arrived unexpected, unplanned. The night could go on without it and it would have been wonderful anyway.
But at some point your lips became more adventurous, your tongue decided that I had to be yours and you took me all. Not only my body but a big part of my soul as well.
You have been taking care of me. Totally. And I felt like I could let myself go with you. It has been a matter of just a word, just a glance and all has been clear. In a second we understood the time was arrived and you have felt my desire growing slowly. You liked it and you have kept taking care of me.
And you felt a big energy coming from somewhere deep inside my body. An energy that I could not hold back anymore and you explained to me, with a single look, that it was time to share this energy with you.
So we did. And for a little while the whole world stopped.
I was yours, totally yours. Like a river to the sea.
Wednesday, October 6, 2010
Do you remember?
I am sorry darling. I am really sorry for the whole mess we did. I did my best, please believe me. I did my best to try to forget the lies but so far I have been unable to. And now I can not afford another arrow in my heart and considering the past the risk is too high for my heart. The last time I have tried to let me go, I received a very hurting arrow that almost killed me. It was in a form of a small but very important lie.
I remember perfectly where I was, what I was doing and what I felt the whole night. And in the morning the waiter asked me if I was ok because I could not sleep the whole night. The worst weekend I can remember in the last year.
I am really sorry darling, I hope one day you will understand.
"We never talked about it
But I hear the blame was mine
I’d call you up to say I’m sorry
But I wouldn’t want to waste your time
’cos I love you, but I can’t take any more
There’s a look I can’t describe in your eyes
Yes we could try, like we tried before
When you kept on telling me those lies
Do you remember...?
There seemed no way to make up
’cos it seemed your mind was set
And the way you looked it told me
It’s a look I know I’ll never forget
You could’ve come over to my side
You could’ve let me know
You could’ve tried to see the distance between us
But it seemed too far for you to go.
Do you remember...?
Through all of my life
In spite of all the pain
You know people are funny sometimes
’cos they just can’t wait
To get hurt again
Do you remember...?
There are things we won’t recall
Feelings we’ll never find
It’s taken so long to see it
Cos we never seemed to have the time
There was always something more important to do
More important to say
But I love you wasn’t one of those things
And now it’s too late
Do you remember...?"
Monday, October 4, 2010
Rain, tent and night memories...
Alessandra was one of those girl that are always smiling, changing suddenly in a terrible mood because you said or did something wrong. But the was "my girl" and she has been for a little while.
We could not show to the rest of the world and another guy was in love with her. But he never succeeded, or at least this is what I have always tought.
We used to spend afternoons playing volleyball. And I remember I was always trying to have the ball to fall in the cellar so we could go down to look for the ball and kiss each other. It was not a real kiss, it was just lips against lips, open eyes, in a funny attitude. But I remember my heart beating like the drum at the end of "In the air tonight". It was so cool, even if I could not understand completely why in the movies the actors were so excited about kisses.
I used to have a small fantasy at that time, when going to sleep. I was dreaming of being with her in a field somewhere in the mountains. And we used to have a tent in that field where we could spend the night.
And the tent was a kind of "secret world".
In the open-eyes dream we could be in the tent together. It was just a matter of fasten the zip and the world outside did not exist. The zip was our door to the rest of the world and we could decide to open or to close it.
I remember myself laying on my bed with my brother talking but I was invisible. I was under the tent and nothing could touch me. And in my fantasy, she was with me, in a perfect world. And the animals, the people, the rain outside... they simply did not exist.
Tonight, we have lot of rain here. From my bed I can hear perfectly the sweet sound of the rain coming down. The rain is beating against the window, tic tic tic tic...
I closed the outside window before, so tomorrow morning I can sleep a few minutes more with no light waking me up. And when I closed I could feel the rain.
And this old childhood fantasy came back, like the smell of coffee in my grand-mother kitchen.
Where is Alessandra now? According to a Facebook friend she is married and she has a lovely baby.
Saturday, October 2, 2010
About my first kiss!
I was 14 and she was a sweet Italian lady spending time in the UK. Today I have been thinking and writing about her while replying to a post on another blog (In My London Shoes - I hope Anna does not mind I linked it).
A few months later I have read "Narziss and Goldmund", a book by Herman Hesse. At some point I have reached a paragraph that strongly reminded me the exact words I said before the first kiss. So, tonite, as a sweet gift to her, I am posting here that part of the book I discovered 17 years ago.
He bent over Lise's face and began to kiss her lips in the darkness. Suddenly he saw her eyes and forehead shine with a gentle light. He looked in surprise, watched the glow grow brighter, more intense. Then he knew and turned his head: the moon was rising over the edge of the long black stretch of forest. He watched the white gentle light miraculously inundate her forehead, her cheeks, slide over her round, limpid throat. Softly, delighted, he said: "How beautiful you are!"
She smiled as though a present had been made her. He sat up; gently he pulled the gown off her shoulders, helped her out of it, peeled her until her shoulders and breasts shone in the cool light of the moon. Completely enraptured, he followed the delicate shadows with eyes and lips, looking and kissing; she held still as though under a spell, with eyes cast down and a solemn expression as though, even to her, her beauty was being discovered and revealed for the first time.
I hope you like it at least a tenth of how I like it.
Saturday lunch
Small and very old restaurant in the hills. A few tables, the waiter speak almost only dialect and guests are keen to speak to each other.
A young woman was there with her daughter. Very close to each other and the lady had a wonderful attitude.
A couple willing to tell everything about their life together.
Two guys simply having lunch and drinking wonderful wine.
Will need a few hours to recover now! :-)
As you can see, the appetizers were kind of a good start! :-)
--
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Please ignore typos unless they are funny