I'm like the Terminator...except with LOVE!

click on 'X' (top left corner)

ehm....so much like my twisted thoughts:)

(sidenote)

(sometimes i still feel an urge to watch the photo of a girl 7 years youger than me
...'just a fuck'...a straight line drawn in a non-existing book of records
i wonder if he cheated on me more that i cheated on myself
i want to learn about betrayal
but it is a lesson
i dont understand)
(at least not much more
than i understand trust)

la principessa senza memoria

last friday awaking with a huge headache i decided to pass the morning wandering around
ppza Bologna...
garbage on the street
men watching
well-dressed women
patches of green and sun

and the mercatino...

come sempre, una grande goia:) entri, e lasci che tuo corpo sperde in tutto quel caos e folla, e all'imporviso senti un miliardo di sapori dentro la bocca semplicemente guardando i banchi di frutte e verdure e cibo...poi ci sono i vestiti (e pensi l'ennesima volta che i pigiami piú orrendi si vendono in italia, e che secondo te nn servono a niente perché é impossibile a dormire in pigiama se nn sa sola, e anche se da sola perferisci dormire nudo - se fa caldo - o in una vestaglia di camera lungo) e ci sono tutti gli orecchini e bijou che nn comprerei mai (sono troppo kitsch), ma che poi ci sono la gente chi chiaccerano e ti sorridono e c'é il feeling di esser perduta e poi ritrovata.

uscendo dalla folla ti trovi in fronte di un bancharello di libri a 3 euro...tocci tutto, apri, leggi, esamini, rimetti, tocci di nuovo...libri vecchi e nuovi classici e nn-classici, scuri o colorati...e poi c'é un libro con una piccola bimba sulla coperta che ti sorride e dice: comprami.
É un libro che si tratta di una 'principessa senza memoria' e scoppi a ridere pensando che qsto sei un po tu. ovviamente nn principessa, ma a volte volendo essere una donna 'con classe'...e ovviamente nn senza memoria...ma (come dice una persona cara) una ragazza chi spesso cambia le sue memorie, o almeno i suoi ragionamenti riguardo qche memorie.

ricordi discussioni riguardo il primo bacio (che per te é molto meno importante che il primo sorriso e abbraccio un sacco di tempo prima), discussioni su cose brutte e belle che ti/ci hanno successo in 2007... e ricordi tutto ció con un sorriso grande...e compri il libro.

Lo leggi sull'autobus, metro e tram, a casa, in letto, sul divano...e ogni tre minuti sorridi. Sí, é un libro per bambini...ma un libro che parla anche ad un adulto se l'adulto riesce essere una bambina a volte. (Io per esempio c'ho una bimba di 2,5-3 hanni dentro di me...una che ama esser coccolata, é sempre confusa, e si spaventa facilmente....peró, dicono che é adorabile, perché ama a giocare e ride tanto:)

Il libro parla del regno dei sogni e della realtá (ovviamente dipinto tutto orribile e grigio e noioso), e godo mentre lo leggo...e godo qdo arrivo all'lavoro e i miei piccolini si siedono in un cerchietto intorno a me, e una si arrampica sopra di me e si butta fra le mie mani e mi stanno ascoltando con occhi aperti, meravigliati....

per ora...qsto é mio regno del sogno:)
/e la cittá che ho lasciato nn volendo lasciarlo/

ritrovata

entering the beautiful city of Roma i seem to have entered something like a new phase too

walking from Carol's workplace to San Lorenzo to take a caffé at Giufa was one of the best moments in spite of the rain puoring down on me (protected by a huge green umbrella)

Roma (and on purpose RomA and not RomE!) has been rainy two years ago too at my arrival...it seems sunshine only comes after rain:)

anyways, i wanted to say that Roma is the best of the best because:

- the bulidings are colorful and you see green around you even at
wintertime and it somehow makes you feel good (a thing discussed with
'Professoressa Cravo'...mia cara Carol who at the moment of my arrival was busy
writing an abstract for her study on Urban Green Areas:)

- men constantly notice you which serves as a boost for your ego if you are
there for some days only (afterwards the fact that you are constantly being
fucked by the eyes of complete strangers becomes somewhat disturbing)

- always great exhibitions: this time on Pop Art - which proved to be the
first exhibiton enjoyed more by my angel then me (obviously..it was an
exhibition where brain had to be more active then the heart, therefore he had
the advantage there:)

- always great food - let it be the last takeaway pizza or a gelato eaten
at seven at night (after which you feel completely frozen, but you could not
resist...after all 15degrees celsius is really HOT for you at this time of the
year)... or dinner at some friends' house, or an aperitivo at your favourite and
traditional F&F place at Trastevere:)

- you can feel like a tourist while navigating through the entire
city(not onyl centre) without a map, and even be stopped by locals asking for
directions:)

- it is a city where nothing works but you seem to work perfectly..

- it is a city of your BEAUTIFUL past, and the city where you realize your
present and future are both beautiful (out of negative circles your thoughts
begin to run straight forward and you smile smile smile smile) ..and you dont
even mind it is your turn to console...

- it is here that you are told your most-frequent word is: coccolare
(cuddle)
- here that you realize you emotional roller-coaster stopped
-here that you dont want neither to think about or undertand how come
having been cheated at doesnt make you feel bad any more, and even more
interestingly doesnt change much of a special relationship. the basis seems to
be untouched. and you feel greatful for all you have been given and for all you
have been given:
-for the good:) - because good is good
- and for the bad - becuase it made you see things as they are
and not imagine them as they never were or will be.

Back in reality you find yourself cuddled by several kids who love you and Fredi-the-fox, and know that with so much good things cant go wrong any more:)

did anything?

ever hurt you so much you had to sit down all of a sudden to bear the pain?

did anything ever hurt you so much
you felt like yelling in pain as loud as you could?

did anything ever hurt you so much
you did not manage to hold the weight of your own body?

did anything ever hurt you so much
you wriggled an moaned between the arms of the first person who was ready to hold you
regardless who it was?

did anything ever hurt you so much
you've found yourself mumbling words unconsciously that spoke about the depth of your
fears and those of your heart?

did anything ever ?

what was worse? the pain or the fear?
i cant fight against pain. it is there to let me know that something that is happening is bad for me
pain is protection.
those who dont feel pain are not afraid of being hurt and die easier.
should i fight against fear?
like
for example note what is the 'worst thing that can happen' and make it happen?
being afraid of losing someone doent make me lose him
cutting all contact does.
and then, instead of the constant fears
i just have to learn to live with the pain
but at least that is functional...

or is it all mistaken?

am i mistaken?

is it possible that it is not the fear that matters?
is it the pain? the pain of being let down, cheated on, lied to?
or the pain of having mistaken a bad man for a good one?
or the pain of being left alone?
or the pain of seeing the other one in a mess and not being able to help?

why do i feel i have to give all,save, help?
what for if the other one doesnt want help and feels 'fine' in this f***d-up situation?

why was breaking up so simple 5years ago?
why is it so difficult now?

let go of my hand.
i will stumble, and i will fall.... - but will survive.

i am not E. i am stronger.
am i afraid of finishing like her?
can anything hurt so much that you take your own life?
WHYYY?
why am i still angry at myself if it wasnt my fault?
why am i angry at her?

do you (my angel) know HOW MUCH DOES IT HURT to lose all contact with someone you loved so much?????
..........

she closed her eyes and let her head drop between the pillows.
she drifted back off to the world of restless dreams
and events tossed her around
and she had no hand to hold.

everyone needs 'solid grounding'....

timing

Half past two in the morning
kissing your past good-bye
driving along Körút
up the hill
into a cloud
hanging over your home
(not your life)
returning into a bed
still warm with a beloved smell

driving through the sleeping city
(having closed the door behind him)
you look into the back-mirror
and see a figure growing smaller
and smaller

your hand reaches for the radio-button
you turn in and a sweet voice of the '50s starts
pouring words into your heart:

Non ho l'età non ho l'età per amarti
non ho l'età per uscire sola con te.
E non avrei, non avrei nulla da dirti
perché tu sai molte più cose di me.

Lascia che io viva,un amore romantico
nell'attesa che venga quel giorno
ma ora no,

non ho l'età non ho l'età per amarti,
non ho l'età per uscire sola con te.

Se tu vorrai, se tu vorrai aspettarmi,
giorno avraitutto il mio amore per te.
Non ho l'età non ho l'etàper uscire sola con te.

...

/Non ho l'età (per amarti)Gigliola Cinquetti/

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PtbW7zYmYfM&feature=related

some said it was not a LOVE (with capital letter, blindness and all) but i prefer to think that in my life all that counts is how I percieve... and even though i wasnt a good listener, even if i was messed-up-and-weak, even if a bit rinchiuso-in-me-stessa, even if... even if you didnt have the age to love me you did, and as far as im concerned it saved my life (esaggerata!...yes, yes,yes -i love to be OVERreactive at times:) you were my angel, mature, or immature doesnt matter.

/ps. nn voglio innamorarmi con un altro. nn é che aspetto te. voglio sta da sola. con questo feeling di esser capace di amare. in generale. e basta. mi innamoro dell'idea di amare come l'ho fatta all'etá 14. é una cosa bella...anche se secondo alcune persone é 'sbagliato'/

nyom(ós)ok

my wet body drizzles in the semi-light of the bathroom
reflected reflections
bruises leaving a precious pattern on me
for some days
at least
then all this will be gone
this too

a sad calmness looks into my face
and she winks at me from the mirror
that face in the mirror is hiding something
less then a smile more then a teardrop
something i cannot grasp at
something
???
that may be the secureness of a survival
(a wink of the past?)
the wickedness of future lust
(a wink of the bitch?)
the pride of the educated intellectual
(a wink of unbringing?)
the strength of a battered heart
(a wink of the eternal optimist?)

hours pass and the puzzle cannot be undone
(like my body was
so many times
undone
in the hours after (t)his decision)

the past is closed. it is a new year
and i DEpart again
encolsing someone precious
in me heart
forever

/vague thougth connected to cummings. and poem of his...though it
had been truest last year...when withOUT Miele...
yet it seems
any final decision-and loss- makes me reTURN to
the source of all:
my heart.../

i carry your heart with me

i carry your heart with me(i carry it in
my heart)i am never without it(anywhere
i go you go,my dear; and whatever is done
by only me is your doing,my darling)
i fear
no fate(for you are my fate,my sweet)i want
no world(for beautiful you are my world,my true)
and it's you are whatever a moon has always meant
and whatever a sun will always sing is you

here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud
of the bud and the sky of the sky of a tree called life;which grows
higher than the soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart

i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart)

ee cummings