À rebours

D. told me that, for a band project, the best thing is to set out planning stuff backwards, with the final goal as a starting point.

Naturally, this generated some fantastic reveries in a split second:
- of me, reading the title of my novel/script in the R2 section of La Repubblica, on a Saturday;
- of me, holding hands with a publisher in his best Durban’s smile;
- of me, editing thanks and dedications on page 3.

And then I thought (I was driving on the motorway with my mind roaming in circles) that 99% of the people who came to my mind when I thought of the words “all my love and thanks go to…” were exactly the ones who have actually prevented me from doing anything. Mother’s perfectionism (“Whatever you do, be always the best, my love”), father’s systematic pick-axing (“You’ve been drawing flowers on the margins of your exercise books…” – followed by a terrible 5-hour-long silence), friends’ secret malice, ex partners’ jealousy, and so on.

In this topsy-turvy universe where things done at the end come first, here are my thanks for something that doesn’t exist.

All my love and thanks go to: D. for his unending and unbending love and support; my stepfather and stepmother, for loving me for free and loving me always, for no reason whatsoever; my brother, for enduring my bad character all these years; to old and new friends; and to all those fundamental presences in my life who, for death or distance, are no longer here, like mother, who taught me to draw and to shun embarrassment, and father, who lives far away, and who prevented me from drawing flowers in my exercise books and tried to bend me so that I could be exactly what he wanted me to be, and to all the other people who’ve made my life miserable, and rich, and happy, and to whom I couldn’t help thinking about when the word “thanks” came into my mind. I should think that the best thing I’ve learnt is how to ignore you.

Popularity: unranked [?]

Idle short random and fast, part III (Birth of the T-Shirt Philosophy)

I feel too verbose for a tweet, too brief for a post, too universal for a status update, too abstract for a pic. A lucky thing I’ve set up a category for that sort of thing.

Here’s some sweet wisdom from the past few weeks (some of it would look great on a t-shirt):

2)      A jerk can punch your tyre better than a nail.

3)      It’s financial statements time. Shit.

4)      For almost a month, every morning I used to wake up in a state of emotional emergency. As if each day I was placing a bet with the rest of my life at stake.

5)      A friend told me a month ago “Making a scene is not like imposing a limit. A scene is acceptable, even gratifying. A limit is bound to be crushed, and this is unavoidable”.

6)      Your bad dreams can be even more scary for people around you.

7)      You can dream episodically.  It can last for years. In my dreams, there’ve been wolves and Alsatians and old and new cars, in a curious evolution of happier endings.

8)      Uno, Nessuno e Centomila: on the same day, you can hear yourself described in as many ways as there are people around you, without the slightest responsibility about it on your part. “You look pale and shabby today, are you sick?” asks the kicking, squealing, Gucci little piggy. “You’re radiant, are you pregnant?” asks the neo-mom. “High heels destroy your spinal bone” declares a spiteful hobbit. “She’s either stupid, or vile” explains some envious bitch. “You’re bizarre” says your father when you say things he doesn’t agree with. “You’re a real artist” declares that chap that’s been trying to screw you for ages. “She’s a narcissistic amateur”, says the same blockhead when he first gets the clue that there’s no way he can catch a glimpse of your underwear except for when you hang it to dry out of the bathroom window.

9)      At 30, you should still climb the staircase two steps at a time.

10)   Unrequited love is for chumps.

11)   You can wish to be important for somebody, but there’s absolutely no point in pleading for it.

12)   Intimacy doesn’t scale.

13)   People should be taught courses about expressing care (if they can feel it): this could save us from a massive amount of energy wasted because of misunderstandings, misdirected feelings or activities, or wrong guesses. It should also spare us tons of bad literature and music.

14)   Approximation and generalization can save your life.

15)   If you’re excessively grateful, you’re screwed.

Popularity: 2% [?]

Obey your parents

Get up don’t waste your day sit down stand up have you done your homework don’t study that much go out stay home wear some make-up you look like a Christmas tree be elegant stand straight don’t put your elbows on the table don’t dig too deep don’t fail never fail don’t be too smart or you’ll see lifelong loneliness don’t let anybody ever get too close to you you’re always so lonely can’t you do anything about it don’t think too much don’t quit your job don’t work too much why aren’t you at school don’t waste time don’t smoke give me a cigarette eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat you’re getting fat don’t read so much don’t spend so much time at the computer do something productive study economics study architecture study law honour your family call your grandmother call your grandfather you have to visit your cousin you have to spend some time with your relatives don’t spend so much money buy something nice help your brother help me help me help me help me help me if you do that you’ll have everything at your feet don’t trust anyone don’t speak with anyone keep your secrets you have to accept advice you have a peculiar character you’re unbending you’re always angry can’t you take things less seriously be more tidy people looking at this will think you’re a mess the cowl makes the monk be more organized be more controlled don’t ever lose your temper don’t let others bully you where’s the point in arguing fighting is never the solution don’t wash your dirty linen in public I told you it would happen haven’t I why don’t you ever listen to me listen to me listen to me listen to me

Popularity: 3% [?]

“Thoughts black, hands apt, drugs fit, and time agreeing”

My website and blog are up and running again, after three nights of hysterical stumbles and problem creating and solving (slings and arrows). The old, whitish version lasted but a year (‘Tis brief, my lord.), but I have to admit I like my new, Hamlet-like inky cloak much better.

A few practical pieces of advice (or reminders for myself: My tables, – meet it is I set it down!): never again register PHP – MySql hosting solutions with Aruba. And, if you absolutely have to, don’t ever, ever use Windows hosting. I know, it used to be the least expensive hosting server at the beginning, making you a king of infinite space, whereas the others used to give you just 5 MB at 40 euros. But this goodly frame, the earth is turning, after all, and things are evolving, and you don’t really need to stick to old habits, you know?

For three nights, I’ve felt like a mouse trapped in a labyrinth, with the Aruba CEO and complete executive board watching me from the other side of a protective glass and celebrating with a toast at themselves each time I found myself tearing my clothes off in a fit of rage after I had entered the dead lane labeled 500: Internal Server Error.
“What do you call the play? – The Mouse-Trap.”

But you know what? I’ve made it! So tonight I’ll finally be able To sleep: perchance to dream.

Popularity: 4% [?]

Primary colours

In the place where I was born, we were all the same. On the pain of death.
Clothes were all in the same drab colours – if you didn’t like them you were to sew yourself new ones.
But then, the fabrics were all the same, so – you see – there was no point.

There seemed to be a dull and sleepy balance resting on all things, apparently jeopardized by just anything: a small pleasure, the spirit, a touch of primary colours. The only glare was the violent redness of flags; the blinding whiteness of snow.

Glass bottles were to be returned every week.
Newspapers were to be macerated.
Tin cans were used for planting spices and aligned on the window ledge, in the kitchen.
Jam was made in Autumn. And sauerkrauts.
And there were lots of books, because TV sucked.

All this can be refused or accepted. Taken for granted. Taken as a model. Nostalgically desired. Laughed at.
But colours are a right which should be granted to everyone.

Popularity: 6% [?]

Walls came tumbling down

20 years have passed.

When all the greyness went away.
When we all felt so small and so full of worlds to explore.
When all primary colours, and not just red, became parts of our lives.
When everything we had disappeared in a day.
When the air was filled with expectations.
When our skies became broader.
When a second world was gone forever.

I was just a kid and yet I remember that the historical import was so clear to me.

http://www.flickr.com/photos/vivaopictures/3403969552

Popularity: 10% [?]

The pencil is sharper than the sword

I was feeling playful and sharp today. Such a nice feeling, that I decided to show you.

View the whole set

Popularity: 10% [?]

Idle, short, random, and fast, part II

Those who are cross-eyed are constantly calling Venus into question.

Women with small breasts usually have a neat array of champagne cups.

A bakery is a perfect place for ice-skating. Or – maybe better – flour-skating.

We’re in a new Ice Age. Where the fuck is Autumn gone?

Murphy laws should be studied in all Physics departments.

You watch the traffic and you know it’s a Friday.

At times it’s really hard to explain the notion of homonymy to Carabinieri. Other times it’s impossible.

The Lasagna is ready. See you!

Popularity: 7% [?]

Status symbol /Facebook invective/

h 7.30pm – is cooking
h 9.30pm – is eating
h 11.30pm – is taking a leak
h 00.15am – is getting laid
h 0.17am – Good night, world!
h 8.00am – Good morning, world!
h 9.00am – is having breakfast
h 11.00am – is working – what a pain in the ass!
h 12.00am – is going out to buy a sandwich
h 1.30pm – is eating the sandwich

Barbarella: Bon Appétit!

Dick: damn, me not yet!

Goofy: Hey, you’re really cute!

h 5.00pm – Ready to run, hooray! LOL!
h 8.00pm – is leaving tomorrow, byeeeee xxxxx

Popularity: 18% [?]

Idle, short, random, and fast.

Bulgaria is the land of hurry and makes me feel tense.

Upon the arrival of the plane, people spring up convulsively before the fasten seat belts sign is off. They struggle with their luggage (I get the constant impression that pieces of it will fall on other passengers or myself) and then run into the airport bus, and out of it to passport control desks, which are not open yet. Last week, a lady was so taken up with her race that she stumbled and fell on the few stairs leading to the counter. Strange she wasn’t trampled upon by a horde of similarly minded athletes.

I can remember a life spent queueing. The last 3 or 4 comrades, in a queue for reasons unknown: “what’s this queue for?” “maybe shoes” “I’ve heard it’s sugar” “Let’s hope it’s toilet paper”.

Play everything double-speed or – even better – fast forward. A life of gathering and overstocking. Of eating when you’re not hungry.  Of things done carelessly. As long as you do it in a hurry, everything will be fine.

And now, back into the city of ma lassa perde (“leave off”). Wondering how to reconcile these two mindsets and stay sane.

“International tickets counter”

Popularity: 6% [?]