- Eating habits: she is not constrained by the notion of "portion". She does not care of a packaging, uses to eat like a little mouse, just scraping what she needs in little quantities, and as soon she feels this is sufficient, she stops and stores the rest. She substituted the quantity with the flavour, thus fucking a million-year genetic inclination to store grease and sugar for future famines - which is nowadays the reason for which half of the planet is overweight. She eat spicy things, fenel, salt, ayurvedic, herbal-based Indian tricky foods.
- Clothing habits: she has no more of what she needs. She always uses a pair of sandals which does not harm her feet, although of no particularly high-quality. She has one pc cover which suits her two laptops (did she do this on purpose, of buying two same-sized laptops?). Her house has no garments in excess - but everything is covered by a full-coloured, lavishly indian piece of clothe - another way of substituting abundance with flavour.
- Storing habits: she has plenty of things, which occupy all the space available for them. No interstices. All things are amassed in a rationale way - her way of finding things is deducting where they are, rather that having them visible because of the plenty of room which surround them. Another way to avoid resource scarcity. She never leaves her space without putting things in order - "it drives me nuts to come back in a messy room". She puts little things (needles, coind, medals) in little boxes, she uses plastic containers which are orderly filled until the rim with logically connected objects. Not to speak of her computer desktop, of course.
- Thinking habits: I feel in her brain there is no that much space for distraction. No pain. No divagation. No phantasies. Never blue, never grey. She has been intelligent enough to make silence within her and recognize what she loves to do - and to detect also the "spy" which reassures you that what you recognize is actually what you were looking for. She said: "you know what you love because it brings you to a different state" - "I do not want to do anything else while I am doing that (=my favourite activity)... If you do not know what you like, you are lost".
sabato 30 maggio 2009
lunedì 25 maggio 2009
...just, with another spelling.
He used to be the best friend of my boyfriend - then we split up, but they did not. Why am I telling you about that? Well, first because he is a poet. Argh! A Poet! How can you dare to say that?
I suppose that, if you insist in calling yourself a poet, you actually have much better chance to become one (i.e. to be publicly recognized as one, then to believe you actually are one yourself because of that), thank if you don't.
This guy happily writes and does anything with paper, colors and fiber, and pots, including keeping a cultivated garden (I mean -plotted - not a garden of poets of course!) and cooking whatever they grow in America. This guy has probably a soft heart and some sensibility, a very high opinion of himself nor he is immune from the playful, naive attitude which is the greatest asset of Americans vis-à-vis average Europeans, and their major pitfall if they compare with the best among us. Here a practical example in form of a quote:
...Today my name is Reginald. Why Reginald? I've always wanted to be a Reginald. Goodbye.
I find myself elaborating upon this guy much further than I would be normally expected to. Warum? Because I would like to be a writer, but I have - among other factors, always been dragged back by the idea that, if you are not very very good, you shan't dare to call yourself an artist. I have been very far from the idea "Uh? An artist? Here I am!". Doing that, I have just lived in fear, and withdrawn myself from what I am born for. I mean, having a job which is not too bad and brings bread on the table, is one thing; restraining from your most acute - and innocent pleasure - is another, and has a name: it is a crime
I find in this guy an example of what I could have done - and could be now, well-connected with other soi-disants poets, teaching creative writing in a University! Well, who is going to declare me a laureate if I am not overtly ready for the step?
Second, I find shocking that this guy has not settled-down yet, despite he is in his thirties. Good news - he can stand it, and this is possible. I am very open to the influence of what I think he is, as I reckon in him many feature that I think I know very well, some patterns that I already isolated in a boyfriend. It is surprising by the way, how many US people share such patterns, so that they might be an anthropological character: a sense of adventure, a sense of empowerment (even if not very well justified), a stubbord denial of cultural desolation of some environments, loneliness-proof, and so on.
Third, I dreamt of him last night, in a very playful mood. We were in the US attending parties and speaking and beeing good friends, as in Dead Poets Society, being amidst the snow, and looking for my boyfriend, without hurry. I felt respected.
martedì 19 maggio 2009
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lunedì 4 maggio 2009
I left today a person that I cherished, for which I felt something, and which I felt, felt something for me. But. This person is not free.
I read about two lovers who are re-joining again in America after one year of separation. But. I have nothing like that.
I have a person who just do not care. I feel ready for loving and being loved, but I am here, alone.
I am frustrated about that. This is gloomy.
Love is any of a number of emotions and experiences related to a sense of strong affection and attachment. The word love can refer to a variety of different feelings, states, and attitudes, ranging from generic pleasure ("I loved that meal") to intense interpersonal attraction ("I love my boyfriend").