DRAMA: I am not excited by direct human interactions anymore. I am still very curious, and that's why I still read and watch a lot, or why I appreciate public places with lots of different humans, like train stations, or street corners. Hell, it might even be why I enjoy a certain kind of "reality show" or why I still power up my antennas when I ( Read more... )

- I moved to the US in October 2016. I stayed a month in Florida then me and my partner moved to Colorado where she already had a seasonal job as a massage therapist ( Read more... )

My last two days in Roma. It feels like a theatre set. Everything I hated all of a sudden feels harmless and kind of cute. I am leaving this shit behind, hoping that somehow I'll be able to miss it because it's in the 'longing' that I feel the most comfortable. All is ready. The one backpack that will come with me is still empty, all my stuff is in ( Read more... )

August was strange ( Read more... )

Penso di aver scritto duemila pagine identiche a questa, dove mi lamento degli esseri umani che rovinano qualcosa che amo, Rima e' uno dei miei posti preferiti al mondo, eppure Rima e' sempre stata infettata dai romani. E' vero che questi (arriva il cibo e mi perdo il filo della frase ( Read more... )

Questa cosa dello scrivere sta diventanto una barzelletta. Ho passato anni a scrivere, e altri anni a dire di scrivere. Ora non sono piu' capace di fare un cazzo, di scrivere un cazzo. Non so se forzarmi, aspettare tempi ispirati, cambiamenti radicali o una visita di alieni a cavallo dello spirito santo. Non mi esce un cazzo, solo idee e frammenti ( Read more... )

Qualche macchina piu' in la', una ragazza di ventotto anni sta spiegando al telefono a qualcuno le ragioni del suo disprezzo per quell'uomo di cinquanta che le ha raccontato un sacco di balle. Il parcheggio dove dormiro' stanotte e' lo stesso degli anni passati, ma mai prima di questa volta v'era stata tanta vita. Varallo Sesia e' una citta' ( Read more... )

I met my coat in the 20th century. When I first saw my coat, I was twenty five years old. Now I am forty two. When I first saw that coat, it had a maple leaf on the heart, and it was red. Flaming red, so red that all the other colours looked white next to it. It talked to me, of firefighting, of Canada, of long nights working outside in a remote ( Read more... )

Stuck between more than two places. Physical, mental, wishful and past places are everywhere, scattered around me like the beads from a broken heirloom. Torn between a desire to blog dissatisfaction out and keep it quiet until it goes away. As if ( Read more... )

Sometimes I feel that all I'd like to do is to express what I am feeling, with words or paint or my body somehow. What is complicated is that more often than not what I "feel" is nothing else but longing. Most of the times for other feelings, people, or memories, or fantasies. All of that is so damn hard to express that I end up not doing it, ( Read more... )