Misogyny in pills

Empathy

Empathy, the most horrendous of all the curses.

Empatia, la piu' orrenda delle maledizioni.

The wolf shall rise again

A crippling wind spirits my sky, and a northern call freezes my dreams, talking about fire and warm hands. In the dark she walks, lost and strong, defiant and defeated.

Constellations rise and set the path, moons cross the heaven and I wait the fall. The Year of the Wolf is once more, and it's in winter that the He is stronger.

The rains of Castamere

And who are you, the proud lord said
that I must bow so low?
Only a cat of a different coat
that's all the truth I know.
In a coat of gold or a coat of red
a lion still has claws

And mine are long and sharp, my lord
as long and sharp as yours.
And so he spoke, and so he spoke
that lord of Castamere
But now the rains weep o'er his hall
with no one there to hear.

"O, hear my call", the look out cried
his eyes upon the vale
"I see sunlight upon armours
many riders on the trail.

And still Lord Reyne of Castamere
harped to his elegy
"No stripling boy untried by arms
will play lord over me!"

And so he spoke, and so he spoke
the lord of Castamere
But now the rains weep o'er his hall
with no one there to hear.

The lions at the gate had come
to lift his infant heirs on spears
And so he spoke, and so he spoke
the lord of Castamere
Now the rains weep o'er his hall
with not a soul to hear.

The Epic Of Gilgamesh

"The Epic Of Gilgamesh", in Sumerian, performed by Peter Pringle.

The EPIC OF GILGAMESH is the earliest great work of literature that we know of, and was first written down by the Sumerians around 2100 B.C.

Ancient Sumer was the land that lay between the two rivers, the Tigris and Euphrates, in Mesopotamia. The language that the Sumerians spoke was unrelated to the Semitic languages of their neighbors the Akkadians and Babylonians, and it was written in a syllabary (a kind of alphabet) called "cuneiform". By 2000 B.C., the language of Sumer had almost completely died out and was used only by scholars (like Latin is today). No one knows how it was pronounced because it has not been heard in 4000 years.

What you hear in this video are a few of the opening lines of part of the epic poem, accompanied only by a long-neck, three-string, Sumerian lute known as a "gish-gu-di". The instrument is tuned to G - G - D, and although it is similar to other long neck lutes still in use today (the tar, the setar, the saz, etc.) the modern instruments are low tension and strung with fine steel wire. The ancient long neck lutes (such as the Egyptian "nefer") were strung with gut and behaved slightly differently. The short-neck lute known as the "oud" is strung with gut/nylon, and its sound has much in common with the ancient long-neck lute although the oud is not a fretted instrument and its strings are much shorter (about 25 inches or 63 cm) as compared to 32 inches (82 cm) on a long-neck instrument.

For anyone interested in these lutes, I highly recommend THE ARCHAEOMUSICOLOGY OF THE ANCIENT NEAR EAST by Professor Richard Dumbrill.

The location for this performance is the courtyard of Nebuchadnezzar's palace in Babylon. The piece is four minutes long and is intended only as a taste of what the music of ancient Sumer might have sounded like.

Video, song, & text credit: https://www.youtube.com/user/copperleaves

Filippini molesti

Non lavano appropriatamente i piatti di plastica da cui si sono nutriti di cibo extra-unto che neanche il baccala' imporchettato intriso d'unto al Gran Marnier di Benigni. Risultato: mobile pieno di formiche che si spostano con movimento a falange in due colonne fra pavimento e soffitto.

Losing my religion

Boh... mio padre lavorava 8 ore al giorno, faceva ginnastica la mattina appena sveglio, andava a giocare a calcio il sabato o la domenica, portava me e mio fratello in giro con le bici e a fare passeggiate nei boschi con nostra madre. E tante altre cose. Fra cui studiare filosofia, algebra, greco antico e teologia. Non faceva tutte queste cose contemporaneamente, certo. Alternava lo studio del greco a quello della filosofia, per esempio. Ma ci siamo intesi. Io sto perdendo ogni volonta' di fare, studiare, o impegnarmi in qualsivoglia attivita'. Lui non aveva internet.

I don't know... my father used to worked 8 hours per day, to do gym in the early morning, to play football on the weekend, to take me and my brother out with the bicycles, and to walk in the woods with my mother. And many more things, like studying philosophy, algebra, Ancient Greek, and theology. He didn't do everything together, of course. He alternated Ancient Greek with philosophy, for example. Well, you've got it. Instead, I'm losing any will to do, study, or to be committed to anything. But he didn't have the internet.

Twilight misfit

Non sono una persona solare. Se avevo ancora qualche dubbio questo mio soggiorno ai Caraibi me li ha tolti. Le spiagge soleggiate non fanno per me, mi trovo piu' a mio agio nei boschi umidi e d'ombre fitte. Il gelo al mattino, la nebbia che perdura fino a sera, il vento tagliente di Grecale pacificano il mio spirito. Sono uno di quei disadattati nati nel crepuscolo, dove luce ed ombra si fondono e confondono, stabilendo il sentiero della vita per le loro creature. Mi piacciono le cose che sono morte o andate, perse nel buio della terra e dei tempi, vibro in sintonia con cio' che ancora non e' nato e attende nel buio uterino che venga il suo momento. Mi attraggono quelle persone che non negano il buio che si cela e cresce nelle loro menti e viscere, quelle persone che lo hanno accettato, quelle che ci convivono e dialogano, quelle persone che ancora lottano con esso perche' non prevalga anche se sanno che mai potranno liberarsene. Perche' nel buio tutto diventa vero, anche le paure, anche le bugie. E serve un grande coraggio per sedere soli nel buio che ci riempie e non mentire a noi stessi.

I don't have a sunny character. If I had some doubts about that, this my stay in the Caribbean has removed all of them. Sunny beaches are not for me. I'm more comfortable in the damp woods thick of shadows. Frost in the morning, fog lingering until night, and freezing wind give peace to my spirit. I'm one of those twilight misfits born were light and shadow mix and blend setting up the path of life for their creatures. I love the dead things and those which are gone, lost in the dark of earth and ages. I feel the vibes of what is not born yet and waits into the uterine murk for its time to come. I'm fascinated by those people who don't deny the gloom hiding and growing into their mind and bowels, those people who have accepted it, who live and talk with it, those people who are still fighting with it to prevent it to take over their life even if they know that will never get rid of it. Because in the darkness, everything comes true, even your fears, even your lies. And a great bravery is needed to sit in the dark which fill all of us without lying to oneself.

E-mail

Sai che conservo ancora tutte le email che mi hai scritto? Quelle e-mail che mi scrivevi a notte fonda perche' non riuscivi a dormire, a volte un poco sconclusionate, altre volte precise e taglienti come i bisturi che ti piacevano tanto. Quelle e-mail in cui mi raccontavi i tuoi incubi e le tue paure, in cui mi confidavi i tuoi sogni e i tuoi desideri. Sono tantissime. Vanno indietro fino all'inizio del 2012. Gia' allora cercavi di andartene, di lasciarmi. Sentivi il bisogno di fuggire, ma per quanto ci provassi non ci riuscivi perche' io ti trattenevo. Non che facessi gran che: ti dicevo che ti amavo e che volevo vederti, e tu venivi da me e facevamo l'amore. E per un po' quel desiderio di fuggire lontano ti lasciava. Questa sera mi sono messo a leggerne qualcuna. In piu' d'una affermi, gridi che vuoi essere felice. Un particolare mi e' saltato all'occhio: non hai mai considerato la possibilita' di essere felice con me. La conferma di qualcosa che ho realizzato ultimamente: tu eri innamorata di me, ma non mi hai mai amato. Spero tu sia riuscita a fuggire da cio' che volevi evitare. Ti amo ancora, e purtroppo non finira'.

I still keep all the e-mails you wrote me, you know? Those e-mails you used to write in the deep of the night because you couldn't sleep, sometimes a little bit rambling, others having a clear-cut like those scalpels you loved so much. Those e-mails where you told me your nightmares and fears, where you confided to me your dreams and desires. They are so many. They go back to the beginning of 2012. You already were trying to leave me, to break up. You felt the need of running away. But for how bad you tried you were not able to succeed because I held a grip on you. Not that I had to do so much: I just used to tell you that I loved you and that I wanted to see you. And anytime you came to me, we made love and that desire to break free quit for a while. This evening I read some of those e-mails. In more than one you say, you yell that you wanted to be happy. And something caught my eye: you had never considered the possibility to be happy with me. The confirmation of something I was thinking of late: you had fallen in love with me, but you have never loved me. I hope you have been able to escape what you wanted to avoid. I still love you and I know it will never end.

Scared of love

The truth? The truth is that you all are scared of love and keep hiding behind ridiculous excuses. I have to focus on my career first. We can't be fixed; we should break up. I need freedom and space. 

But you know what? You are right. You are right to ask for wholehearted love while refusing to give all your heart. Because if you do it you will be shred in pieces, you will be destroyed. If you put another person before you that person will take everything away from you: you will be forced to give up all the things you like and your plans, you will have to forsake yourselves. And all in all, you are comfortable as you are. Free to go where you wish when you want, free from obligations to go back home by night because someone is waiting for you, free from any constraints. And you like that, isn't it?

Paura di amare

La verita'? La verita' e' che avete paura di amare e vi nascondete dietro le scuse piu' ridicole. Mi devo prima concentrare sulla mia carriera. Non possiamo rimettere le cose a posto, lasciarci e' la cosa piu' giusta da fare. Ho bisogno dei miei spazi e della mia liberta'.

Ma sapete cosa? Fate bene. Fate bene a chiedere amore incondizionato ma a rifiutarvi di concedere tutto il vostro cuore. Perche' se lo fate vi faranno a pezzi, vi distruggeranno. Se mettete un'altra persona prima di voi vi portera' via tutto: sarete costretti a rinunciare alle cose che vi piacciono e ai vostri progetti, dovrete rinunciare a voi stessi. E in fondo in fondo, voi state bene cosi' come siete. Liberi di andare dove volete quando volete, liberi dall'obbligo di tornare a casa la sera perche' qualcuno vi aspetta, liberi da ogni restrizione. A voi piace questo. Giusto?

Follia

Uomini incapaci di amare.
Donne incapaci di essere amate.

Men incapable to love.
Women unable to be loved.

Here where the sea shines

and the wind is strong

on an old terrace

infront of the Gulf of Sorriento(province of Naples if I'm not mistaken)

a man hugs a girl

after he has cried

Afterwards he clears his voice

and begins again to sing

 

I care too much for u(Te voglio bene assaje)

but, u know, a great deal

at his point it has become a chain(e' una catena ormai)

that melts the blood in the *

veins u know

 

He saw the lights in the middle of the sea

he thought of the nights in America**

but they where only the lights from the boats***

and the white trace of a propeller

He felt the pain of music

got up from the piano

But when he saw the moon

that was coming out from behind a cloud

he thought that even death was sweeter

He looked into the eyes of the girl

those eyes green like the sea

then suddenly a tear came out

and he believed he was soffocating

 

I care too much for u(Te voglio bene assaje)

but, u know, a great deal

at his point it has become a chain(e' una catena ormai)

that melts the blood in the

veins u know

 

Force of the lirica where****

every drama is a false(ogni drama e' un falso)

which with a little bit of make-up(che con un po' di trucco)

and with the art of mimic

u can become someone else

but 2 eyes that are watching u(ma due occhi che di guardano)

so close and different(eyes of different people)(cosi' vicini e vari)

they make you forget the words(ti fan scordare le parole)

i get mixed up

so everything becomes small

even the nights there in America

u turn and see your own life(ti volti e vedi la tua vita)

like the trace of a propeller

but its the life that ends

But he didn't think that much

the opposite he was feeling already happy

and started again to sing

 

I care too much for u(Te voglio bene assaje)

but, u know, a great deal

at his point it has become a chain(e' una catena ormai)

that melts the blood in the

veins u know

 

*some words are in naples's dialect

**America=USA not the continent

***lampare r boats for fishing in the evening

****lirica=something between theater and opera

#bloodyinterviews 4

The scent

There's a scent in the air that yesterday wasn't here. I don't understand where it comes from, but so it is for many of the beautiful things. They come from where you don't know, linger a day and then are gone and lost. And of what was beautiful only the pain remains, and just the sadness lasts. Until when you let it drain out of your body, like water dripping from your hung out washing.

Faith

Non credete in Dio ma credete nel karma; rifiutate il potere benefico della preghiera ma accettate quello della meditazione; aborrite la religione ma siete sempre a fare proseliti; vi scagliate contro gli estremismi ma poi vi prendete a insulti per una dieta. La verita' e' che nessuno e' abbastanza grande e forte per vivere senza credere in qualcosa.

You don't believe in God but believe in karma; you deny the beneficial power of praying but accept that of meditation; you abhor religion but are always making proselytes; you turn on the extremisms but then you insult each other for a diet. The truth is that nobody is great and strong enough to live without believing in something.

Lives of crystal 4

In Japan, when an object made of ceramic breaks, they repair it using melted gold to join the piece together once again. They create so artistically unique objects because the cracks randomness  makes the crossing of golden lines one and only. The practice comes from the idea that from the imperfection and a wound something with a higher aesthetic and interior perfection can be born. For everything which has a story is made more beautiful by it.

It would be marvelous if somebody could do the same with us: filling of melted gold or silver the cracks widening on the surface of our soul, and so fixing together its parts, filling the gaps made by what we lost or was stolen of ourselves, making us more beautiful and stronger. We would tell our story to everyone who looks at us without using words and we would be finally proud of our scars.

Dedicated to Silvia, to ask forgiveness and tell that I miss her.

Happiness is so easy

E la barca salta su ogni onda creata da un'altra imbarcazione che abbiamo incrociato. Va su, si solleva e poi va giù veloce, giusto in tempo per lanciarsi sull'onda successiva. E ad ogni salto lo stomaco mi sale in gola, ed un sorriso mi sale alle labbra. Lo precede la consapevolezza che bastano piccole cose a rendermi felice, lo segue la paura che anche quel poco non sarò capace di trovarlo.

The boat jumps on any wave created by another boat we have crossed. It goes up, rises and then goes down fast, just on time to catch the next wave. And at any jump my stomach comes up in my throat, and a smile comes up to my lips. And it comes first the consciousness that the little things are enough to make me happy, and it's followed by the uneasiness that even if little I won't be able to find it.

Boulders 2

-Non puoi farti carico tu dei problemi di tutte le persone.
"Hai ragione. Qualcuno dovrebbe aiutarmi.
...
"Ma vedo che siete tutti troppo occupati.

Fottiti, faccio da solo.


-You can't take charge of all people's problems.
"You're right. Someone should help me.
...
"I see, all you are too busy.

Fuck you. I'll do it on my own.

What we are

We are the pain, and we are the hope. We are the dream, and we are the bitter awakening. We are the casket of our neighbor joy and the drain it goes to waste through. We are a moment of light-heartedness and the one hundred years of solitude. We are the beacon light and the anchorage and also the wind shaking and pushing adrift our small and fragile boats. We are what could have been, and we are what will never be. We are all that remains and all that is forever lost. We are other people's memory, and we are what we have sent in the dark. We are patience and wait, disillusion and certainty. We are the satisfied expectation, and the never received satisfaction. All in all, we are. We just are. In our neighbors, if not in ourselves.

Memories

Memories of happy times are a pain.

A farmer there lived in the north country
A hey ho bonny o
And he had daughters one, two, three
The swans swim so bonny o
These daughters they walked by the river's brim
A hey ho bonny o
The eldest pushed the youngest in
The swans swim so bonny o

Oh sister, oh sister, pray lend me your hand
With a hey ho a bonny o
And I will give you house and land
The swans swim so bonny o
I'll give you neither hand nor glove
With a hey ho a bonny o
Unless you give me your own true love
The swans swim so bonny o

Sometimes she sank, sometimes she swam
With a hey ho and a bonny o
Until she came to a miller's dam
The swans swim so bonny o

The miller's daughter, dressed in red
With a hey ho and a bonny o
She went for some water to make some bread
The swans swim so bonny o

Oh father, oh daddy, here swims a swan
With a hey ho and a bonny o
It's very like a gentle woman
The swans swim so bonny o
They placed her on the bank to dry
With a hey ho and a bonny o
There came a harper passing by
The swans swim so bonny o

He made harp pins of her fingers fair
With a hey ho and a bonny o
He made harp strings of her golden hair
The swans swim so bonny o
He made a harp of her breast bone
With a hey ho and a bonny o
And straight it began to play alone
The swans swim so bonny o

He brought it to her father's hall
With a hey ho and a bonny o
And there was the court, assembled all
The swans swim so bonny o
He laid the harp upon a stone
With a hey ho and a bonny o
And straight it began to play lone
The swans swim so bonny o

And there does sit my father the King
With a hey ho and a bonny o
And yonder sits my mother the Queen
The swans swim so bonny o
And there does sit my brother Hugh
With a hey ho and a bonny o
And by him William, sweet and true
The swans swim so bonny o
And there does sit my false sister, Anne
With a hey ho and a bonny o
Who drowned me for the sake of a man
The swans swim so bonny o

Nothing

Back to the future

Ogni viaggio serve ad insegnarci qualcosa, e talvolta ce lo insegna sulla via del ritorno. Mentre sono qui a pianificare il mio ritorno, penso che forse lo scopo di questo mio viaggio non era tanto portarmi dall'altra parte del mondo, bensi' quello di farmi osservare da diversa angolazione il luogo da cui sono partito e il me stesso che nel passato ha vissuto in quel luogo. Perche' cio' che cerco e di cui ho bisogno non si trova qui fuori.

Every journey teaches something to us. And sometimes it does it on our way back. While I'm planning my return, I think that maybe the purpose of this journey of mine wasn't to take me to the other side of the world, but rather to show me from a different angle the place I had travelled from. Thus, showing me myself that in the past lived in that place. For what I'm in search and need of is not out here.