Drawing a relationship of love

I think very few of you will understand the symbolism I give to the following drawings. But it doesn't really matter. I'm doing this for myself, not for you.

Don't look at the stars

Perche' guardi le stelle se io sono proprio qui?

                                                     Sono fredde e lontane.

                                                                        Rubano i tuoi occhi.



Why do you watch the stars if I am right here?

                                                    They are cold and far away.

                                                                          They steal your eyes.

Lives of crystal

Pretend your life is a chalice of crystal. You dropped it and it broke up in little pieces. You kneel down, look for them and pick them all up. Then you put all them together again, in a delicate work of glue and patience. After a long time you finish it, you've got any single piece back in its place. The result is a chalice all cracked, but still a chalice. It's your chalice. It doesn't matter if it broke for your negligence or the careless of somebody else passing by too close to you. What is important for you is that you put it together. Hasn't been a simple job.

   Now you're there: your eyes burn, your finger tips sore due to the many cuts the glass shards gave you, your back is aching for bending down for so long time. You are there, watching your chalice, watching your life. And you wonder what to do of it. You are sure that you have done your job properly, that your chalice can contain liquids again. But you wonder if somebody would be available to drink from such a no more pretty chalice. And you wonder what kind of person could be who is willing to drink from it. But somebody will do it, that certainty gives you back some warmth.

   And then you meet that man. His smile is heart-warming, you see a light in his eyes you've never seen before in anybody else's. You pour your finest liquor for him, you pour it into that chalice all cracked. The chalice holds, for you have worked accurately. And the man you offered it to drinks your liquor, and when he has drunk it all he stares at you. But his eyes are cold now, they have lost that light you had seen. Did you imagine that light? Was it there or was it a figment you created because you had need of it?

   Does it matter now if the light was there or not? What else matters now but the fact that the man you have offered your chalice, your life, throws it away? He throws it and leaves. He throws it and it shatters in even smaller pieces which spread all over. The chalice shatters and nobody is with you any more.

   You stare to all the fragments of crystal, you watch the glittering dust and it turns in a shimmering blur while the tears full your eyes up. The sobs shake you, salty tears reach your lips, but your mouth is dry and something tighten your throat choking you. It's the desperation gnawing inside you, carving you like a worm carves its way into a tree. It's the desperation which leaves you empty, unable to love, to hope or simply of flaring up. The desperation which wipes out your tomorrow.

   Is it possible to put all the pieces together once again, you wonder. And even if it's possible, even if you find all the pieces, even if you pick the smallest particles of dust up, and you have all of them in your hands till the last atom, would you be able to remake the crystal this time? For how much hard you can work, for how much skilled you can be, what can you expect to put together this time? You would remake, probably, a twisted chalice, weak and with sharp edges, a chalice which would barely stay together, let alone to be able to contain liquids. And who would be willing to sip from a chalice that cuts his lips?

   Have you imagined the described situation? I don't know if you who are reading have experienced the same situation or something just close to it, something which stirred the same fear in you,the fear that some one will hurt you again, the fear of failing, the fear of having nobody at your side who would take care of you for what you are, perfect and flawless chalice or cracked one. The fear that everybody will throw you away after having drunk all your liquor, will shatter you after having dried up you till the last drop. I don't know if you know these fears, if you have gather the courage to face them or if you're still sobbing in a corner. I don't know if you are one of those people able to face the pain and the strain needed to put the pieces together once more and to accept yourself whichever shape will come out this time. But what I know for sure is that there's at least one person more willing to drink from your chalice. That person will bring the sharp edge of your glass to his lips, will wound himself drinking, and smiling will give you the blood stained glass back . He will be happy with whatever you have given to him, a little or a lot, and will not demand to see the bottom of the glass. He will handle your chalice gently, will take care of it for you, and will be ready to give it back should you ask it.

   I'm not speaking of a dream, I'm speaking about people I know well. People who often are just close to us, that we can find looking for them in the right places. So pick the pieces up, search and find as many as possible, but have clear in your mind that in the end it doesn't matter if you have all of them or not. Because that chalice, as weak as it will be, as ugly as it will be, can keep at least one drop of your liquor. And there are men who are happy even with one single drop, because in that drop there's all of you, there's the all universe.

   And sometimes, not always but often enough, we are gifted of a new chalice, a new life.

Energize me

So easy to receive, so hard to accept...

Energize me with a simple touch or with an open heart
Energize me, fire up this flame that's burning between us

It's not a fantasy, another mystery
It's just what I can feel, it' something I can see
It's like a memory, an inner melody
It's just what we all know, and we all hear

I was blind, I was closed down
Could not feel or set it free

Energize me with a simple touch or with an open heart
Energize me, fire up this flame that's burning between us

It lies in everyone this whirling energy
It's all around us too, electrifying you
So dare to set it free, this virtue is the key
To something we all know and we all use

I can feel it's inside me
Open up enlighten me!

Energize me with a simple touch or with an open heart
Energize me, fire up this flame that's burning between us
Energize me with a simple smile, open up your mind
Energize me, activate the light that's given and taken

Can you believe in the power that's burning between us?
Would you believe if you open up your mind, open up your heart

Energize me with a simple touch or with an open heart
Energize me, fire up this flame that's burning between us
Energize me with a simple smile, open up your mind
Energize me, fire up this fire that's burning forever

Alphabet sentences

1. The quick brown fox jumps over the lazy dog.
2. Six of the women quietly gave back prizes to the judge.
3. Jay began removing six dozen black quilts with petty flaws.
4. The judge quickly gave back six prizes to the women.
5. Four women quietly gave the sixth prize back to the judge.
6. Picking just six quinces, the new farm hand proved strong but lazy.
7. Six women quietly got the prizes back from the five judges.
8. We could jeopardize six of the gunboats by two quick moves.
9. Six of the gunboats could be jeopardized by two quick moves.
10. Judge Power quickly gave six embezzlers stiff sentences.
11. Jack quietly gave dog owners most of his prize boxers.
12. The laze judge was very quick to pay tax money for the barn.
13. The six men have power to seize the ship quickly.
14. Maize quickly paid Jones for the five new taxis she bought.
15. Jack typed requisitions for white moving boxes (long size).
16. Weekly magazines request help for and by junior executives.
17. Why did Max become eloquent over a zany gift like judhpurs?
18. I quickly explained that many big jobs involve few hazards.
19. My folks proved his expert eloquence was just a big hazard.
20. Jack's eloquence may prove hazardous for the six big shows.
21. Jack's man found exactly a quarter in the woven zipper bag.
22. James Boxwell, the banquet speaker, analyzed a few carvings.
23. Quickly pack the box with five dozen modern jugs.
24. Jack quietly moved up front and seized the big ball of wax.
25. Dave quickly spotted the four women dozing in the jury box.
26. Jacqueline was vexed by the folks who got the money prizes.
27. Brown jars prevented the mixture from freezing too quickly.
28. Jeff had his size to help him win quickly over Gene Baxter.
29. Jack Farmer realized that big yellow quilts were expensive.

http://designingletters.com/html/alphabetsentences.html 

Let Me Bring You Down 26

Very British problem

Sadly, this advertising includes the whole British nature.

No talking till Friday evening, and not before having drunk two or three beers.

They are destroying our identities one by one

Syrian girl's speech on Syrian issues in Belgrade, Serbia

I don't believe a word!

Don't talk to me, I don't believe a word
Don't try to make me feel alright
All the love in all the world
Is not enough to save my soul tonight
Don't be my friend I'm not a fool
Don't talk of things that we cannot see
When all the ones that sing the blues
Sometimes I think of how it used to be

I have seen the Devil laugh
I have seen God turn his face away
I have nothing left to lose
I have nothing left to say
I have seen the sky turn black
I have seen the seas run dry
I have nothing that is yours
I have nothing now that is not mine

Don't look at me your eyes are cold & hard
Don't wonder that I turn to you
All the grief in all the world
Is not enough to make me comfort you
Don't tell me lies, I'm not a dog,
Don't talk of love it seems to me
All the people that we rob
Sometimes I think of how they used me

I have seen the fires of Hell
I have seen Angels with flaming swords
I have nothing that is mine
I have much that could be yours
I have seen the eye of God
I have heard lies that are true
I have nothing for myself
I have nothing I would give to you

Don't say that word, I know it's only fools
Who do not know their fate is just
All the justice in the world
Is not enough to buy my faith & trust
Don't make that face I won't be pleased
Don't make a sideshow of yourself
All the people we released
Sometimes I think you're someone else

I have been where none have been
In the empty howling rooms
I have everything I need
I have everything you stand to lose
I have seen the diamond worlds
I have seen the shape of space
I have nothing but the world
I have nothing to take its place
I don't believe a word, I don't believe a word ...

La Sindrome dell' Utero Isterico

Ero qui, seduto davanti al computer, dopo aver pubblicato il post precedente, quando mi sono soffermato a pensare su cosa trovo attraente in una donna. Intendo quale carattere, quale modo di pensare e comportarsi deve avere perche' io sia disposto a farmi mettere il guinzaglio. Perche' c'e' una donna, che negli ultimi tempi ogni tanto frequento, dalla quale mi farei volentieri legare. Che poi lei abbia voglia o meno di mettermelo questo guinzaglio, o magari usarlo per strozzarmici, e' tutta un'altra questione. Sulla quale magari e forse vi aggiornero' piu' avanti, dopo che avro' fatto le mie mosse e ne avro' raccolto i frutti. O le sberle. Anche se allo stato attuale delle cose, a dire il vero, ho gia' raccolto qualche frutticino che mi fa ben sperare.

Dunque, aver sviluppato questo forte interesse per questa donna mi ha inevitabilmente portato a fare un confronto con le precedenti donne della mia vita, sia quelle che ho avuto che quella che non potro' mai avere. Perche' sebbene a prima vista siano molto differenti l'una dall'altra devono avere qualcosa in comune che mi attrae. Spesso dico, fra il serio ed il faceto, e non solo per vedere  che reazione le mie parole scatenano nei miei ascoltatori, che una donna per piacermi deve essere gelosa, possessiva e possibilmente in cura da uno psichiatra. E queste sono chiaramente caratteristiche ben definite, che veramente mi piacciono in una donna. Non fate l'errore di scambiare la gelosia con la sfiducia, per favore, perche' io posso essere geloso della mia auto e rifiutarmi di prestarla agli amici (e qualcuno di voi presterebbe la sua donna fosse anche a chiederla il suo migliore amico?) ma questo non significa minimamente che io pensi che la mia auto possa fuggire con un altro uomo: magari puo' essere rubata, ma non mi abbandonera' per sua scelta. L'essere possessivi implica il desiderio di avere l'altra persona per se stessi ed essere disposti a lottare contro chiunque tenti di sottrarvela: e non vorreste anche voi un/a compagno/a cosi'? In quanto all'essere in cura da uno psichiatra trovo la cosa desiderabile semplicemente perche' almeno posso sapere a quali problemi andro' incontro, mentre con tutte le altre donne e' piu' o meno come finire a letto con un trans: finirai per avere la sorpresa.

Ma bastano queste tre caratteristiche a definire la donna che mi piace? Donna... a pensarci bene si tratterebbe piu' di una tigre che di una donna... ma soprassediamo. Dicevo, e' sufficiente come descrizione? Ovviamente no. Ma non e' possibile, o solo molto arduo, buttare giu' una lista di caratteristiche che definiscano la donna che mi piace. Piu' semplice dire cosa rende una donna totalmente inadatta ai miei standard, ovvero l' essere affetta dalla Sindrome dell' Utero Isterico, detta anche Utero Urlante. Da qui in avanti mi riferiro' alla sindrome con la sigla SUI, per semplicita'. La SUI, essendo appunto una sindrome, ha vari sintomi e segni che si possono manifestare in tempi e modalita' molto vari, e non sempre e' riconoscibile immediatamente, soprattutto in alcune delle sue forme piu' subdole. Ma che richieda poco o molto tempo, che sia palese o che si manifesti solo in specifiche situazioni, la SUI porta le donne ad affrontare le fasi fondamentali di una relazione di coppia con una modalita' che finira' inevitabilmente per tagliare fuori o alienare dalla coppia stessa la sua parte maschile: egotismo ed egoismo nelle loro varie forme, sia dominanti che sottomesse, sia aggressive che passive, egocentriche o proiettate su una terza parte. La SUI non si manifesta in azioni specifiche ne' in comportamenti definiti, bensi' nelle modalita' con cui la donna si pone nei confronti del proprio compagno, sia nei modi diretti che in quelli indiretti, disconoscendone in definitiva il valore e l'importanza nella relazione. Quando l'utero prende il controllo la donna si trasforma da essere dolce e desiderabile in una specie di bulldozer biologico guidato da un istinto primievo che non conosce niente e nessuno, privo di rimorsi nei confronti delle vittime che si lascera' alle spalle strada facendo verso il fine ultimo che la natura ha deciso per lei: il tormento dell'uomo.

Ecco, la donna affetta da SUI mi irrita la pelle. Proprio non riesco a farmela piacere. Ovviamente, capita a tutte le donne che, di tanto in tanto, l'utero prenda il sopravvento. E' un po' come quando l'uomo smette di  ragionare con la parte anatomica preposta all'uopo e lo fa con una parte che non e' stata creata affatto per tale scopo. Ma l'uomo ha, per lo meno, la scusa che in certe situazioni il sangue defluisce totalmente dal cervello per andare a riempire una zona differente del corpo, lasciando il cervello stesso deprivato dell'ossigeno necessario ad espletare le funzioni che gli sono proprie. E' giocoforza per l'uomo usare cio' che in quei momenti puo' essere usato. Per la donna, almeno fino ad ora, non mi pare siano state fornite spiegazioni valide che giustifichino l'isteria con cui sommerge chi tenti di starle vicino durante i suoi attacchi uterini, e mentre i deflussi di sangue nell'uomo sono comunque temporanei sebbene possano essere ciclici, l'utero urlante nella donna puo' diventare uno stato permanente.

Ed eccoci nuovamente a cosa mi piace in una donna: mi piace la razionalita', mi piace un modo scientifico di affrontare la vita, mi piace la praticita' nel quotidiano, mi piace una filosofia che non disdegna i sofismi oziosi la domenica mattina ma che alla teoria unisce l'empirismo nei giorni lavorativi. Insomma, la donna che piace a me e' un vero uomo. Quando una donna e' cosi', e' meno femminile nelle apparenze ma lo e' all'ennesima potenza nel suo intimo e cio' traspare in ogni sua azione e in ogni sua parola quand'anche lei cercasse di nasconderlo. Ed io non posso che esserne affascinato.

A questo punto non posso che fare a meno di sorridere al pensiero della reazione che avrebbero un paio di donne, che hanno provato a mettermi il guinzaglio ma che non ci sono riuscite, qual ora dovessero vedermi in compagnia di colei che ha destato il mio interesse cosi' fortemente. Avrebbero reazioni molto uterine, ne sono convinto. Quella ragazza che invece il guinzaglio me lo aveva messo, e che anche lo teneva fortemente stretto, ma che poi ha deciso di lasciarmi andare ed insieme al guinzaglio si e' portata via anche il mio collare con le borchie appuntite, sono convinto che al vedermi in tale compagnia sorriderebbe ed approverebbe la mia scelta.

The Big Fraud of Gender Theory #7

In this video some of the horrors stemming from the Gender Theory are shown. Despite them somebody is still pushing to apply such a theory to human beings. Just stupidity and superficiality? Or there's something more behind it?

Unfortunately the video with English subtitles has been cut short of a minute circa respect the original video and the author's final conclusions are missed. If you can speak Norwegian you can listen them on the original video :)

The Big Fraud of Gender Theory #6

Human races exist, don't steak your head into the sand. And the Nazis were not completely wrong: they just mistook which race was the "superior".

But apparently, judging by the British professor's home furnishing, a high IQ doesn't give you any good taste. 

Misogyny 3

-What are you saying? That we are the same? No way! Tell us one of these defects.

-Superficiality.

-What?!

-You're not interested in much more that to find a good looking man. If a man is not physically attractive you discard him without appeal. You don't even want to get to know him. And you don't need to get a man laid to know him a bit. It would suffice to make him at easy. But who knows why, are just the handsome men, or those with a dominant character, the ones you speak to. So many words about the good qualities you look for in a man, but in the end is something really different you find attractive.

-But if I don't like a man I can't help with that. Must be the chemistry for me.

-Puah! That's not chemistry. That's getting horny! You need to get wet but you don't want to admit it and you invoke the chemistry. The chemistry is something different: it's what makes women to fall in love with men they wouldn't find attractive differently.

"Don't stare at me in such a way. And don't get offended, you know I'm right. Just think at how easily you got burned in so many relationships. In those relationships you got in because of the "chemistry". You're moths attracted to flame.

And nowhere is safe...

...from the grasp of deception.

Overrated

When we had shaken hands and he was gone, I opened the staircase window and had nearly beheaded myself, for, the lines had rotted away, and it came down like the guillotine. Happily it was so quick that I had not put my head out. After this escape, I was content to take a foggy view of the Inn through the window's encrusting dirt, and to stand dolefully looking out, saying to myself that London was decidedly overrated.

-Great expectations, Charles Dickens (1861)

Let Me Bring You Down 25

Women seem wicked 

when you're unwanted...

            - Jim Morrison

Experiment

Instructions: don't shake yourself too much before using

Since this blog is nearly to an average of 2000 viewings per day, I think it's the right time to issue some useless instructions to use this blog. To be honest I had done it some time ago, to full benefit of a specific person who loved reading me but almost invariably didn't understand me. Hopefully, for her sake and my peace of mind, such a person eventually has given up coming to this blog, but I strongly doubt it for a couple of caustic texts written with the clear but vain attempt to hurt me which I received in recent times. So, this time, I address all my readers. Or to say it better, I address that part of my readers, the majority, who don't know me personally. And that you don't know personally is the reason of my opening with the adjective "useless". Those who know me have the tendency to interpret what I write through their personal experience of me, through the magnifying glass of their small knowledge about me. The result is, not always but often, to misunderstand my writings. Nobody should ask for the storyteller's name: the words of the story is what matter to remember, not who utters them. But this problem, you who don't know me, is not yours.

But let's come back to business: how to use this blog. As the most perceptive of you have already grasped, this blog is quite introspective. My sentiments, my thoughts and my fears, the world and its inhabitants seen through my eyes and experienced through my other senses, my desires, my moods and my weaknesses, my scarce successes and my continuous frustrations: all these things compound the core of my relating. Now and then I digress into different topics, but rarely I'm impartial. And obviously, while I write, I judge. I try to be fair, giving to everybody what is due, but still I express a judgement. Exactly as each of you does, every day, with every of your acts and every of your words. Even when you think you're not doing it, you do it instead: in that very moment, at least, you judge yourselves, believing you are not capable of expressing a judgement. If you really never judge, you are monsters, callous creatures indifferent to somebody else's pain, cowards who refuse to take sides. And at this point, please, look on a dictionary the difference between "to judge" and "to condemn", if you already don't know it.

While you read me, always mind that I lost my universe's centre, there's no more a woman who is my firm point, but there's a woman who I believe I didn't accomplished my duty to, another one who has become the criterion for comparison I use to evaluate any other person, and many passing others, bygones or on hand, real or fictional. Well, don't make confusion with my life's women, as my life's women did, since it's of no importance for you which woman I refer to. 

Another thing to pay attention while reading me is that I like writing a lot and that writing is a cathartic act for me and help me to clarify my ideas. But:When there are many words, transgression is unavoidable. But he who restrains his tongue is wise (Proverbs 10:19). I should restrain my pen, or better my finger tips hitting the keyboard, because with some pieces of a real literary value (forgive my absence of humility) I produce loads of mediocre writings. And among many words some idiocies are unavoidable.

What to say more? Mind the dichotomy. That is what mislead the readers who know me personally. I write as Bisanzio, and maybe in my still imaginary world it's my real name; but in the world where all of you walk, the same world where I walk too the most of the time, I bear a different name. Bisanzio and the man bearing a different name are for sure the same person, but they don't perfectly overlap any more and their life's times are "out of sync". There's a woman whose voice is the only thing I really know of her, who maybe gave me her real name and maybe not, who maybe told me where she really lives and maybe not, but who is really helping me to understand some issues. And that's what matter, because the storyteller's name is less important than the story he tells. This woman once asked me: "Why do you seem a normal person when you talk at the phone, while you're like a psycho when you write?" My dear, maybe because I'm undergoing a doubling of personality. Or maybe because I have fun writing crazy things. "You shouldn't write in such a way to who doesn't know you!" And where would the fun be with those people who know me? They wouldn't get scared. It's true, written words come different from spoken words. We have more time to sharp them perfectly so that they can pierce deeper.

The same woman told me that, even if what I write is dark and sad, she likes to read it because makes her pondering since she finds something of herself in my writing. All in all it's not that I and you all are so different: we have the same fears, we have the same basic instincts, we bleed when somebody cuts us. I have, like a leper, lost the ability to feel pain when somebody cuts me. So I have no hesitations to cut myself even deeper, to expose and study the different layers of my flesh and the spilling of my blood, and come here to tell you, you who maybe are blurred by the pain, or maybe have lost that capability, sometimes lacking to me too, of put in words those sinking feelings. And I don't care if for this you judge me (judge, indeed) to be depressing and negative. You're not part of that restricted group whose judgement matters to me. Yet I can't understand why you consider normal, often arriving to exalt, obsessions which are even destructive, while you cannot accept this my desire to observe the sad and sorrow part of the human soul. To dedicate all of yourself to your own job is okay; to pledge your body and soul to study, or research, or sport is acceptable. This my fondness for what crawls or scurries on the damp soil of our life's undergrowth, instead, is deplorable.

She sings herself a lullaby

Let Me Bring You Down 24