Soapy Taste In Back Of Mouth

Thanks NOT to real circumstances of fellow travelers

In recent weeks I have had two unique experiences. Push troubles me and it may seem a demonstration of bad taste and insensitivity. Yet they are deeply linked in my mind, and I do not think that I can mention one without the other promptly.
This is the death of my mother and the publication of my first book in common, in addition to the coincidence of time, have only two things: first, it is the uniqueness that forced me to do, in different but not as much as I would have thought, a statement of who I am, I've become, I would like to change or continue to be to think about the present and future, in other words.
The other thing they have in common is more nuanced, more difficult to grasp and has to do with the demonstrations of attention, esteem and affection I received in the two cases, by people who know me personally and I often see, other links with whom I have many years of writing and reading, and from people I had lost sight of for some time and that I (or me) found.
The mail and the words that I read and heard in the last month ... well, 'I did not expect to be around people watching me and I think so. With care, good flavors, gentle curiosity. With care. I knew at least enough to find the right words in both cases, long look, attentive ears. And discretion.
Folks, I tend to travel light, this united the heroine of my book. I have drawers full of junk and she spread to the four winds that have accompanied the objects for a stretch of road is no different. The question is (s) confidence, excessive caution, the temptation to live, as it were, in profile, not to be discovered, I suppose.
These days, reading your mail and listen, watch his face while were saying sorry or to talk about the atmosphere of will yesterday, I did a little 'accounts. And I came to doubt that he lavished time and energy to protect me while I had better spend it ... well, trusting, laughing more, perhaps, overcoming mistrust and guilt instead of ignoring them.
Perhaps now is the time to put the suitcase on top of the cupboard, where metaphorical historically it is always ready, but in the cellar.
I could stop here, not bad at the bottom. Is not bad.
So I would like to thank you. There will name, for in this blog that I put myself in the game, you are entitled to your sacrosanct privacy. But thanks, really, for having been close, and especially for giving me a bit 'in crisis. True companions on the road are for.

PS yesterday I was asked two questions, one on the present and the future, which could be summarized roughly as follows: "What do you do these years still full of energy and health? "and" What you want (you) to remember your life in old age ? "They are good questions, an echo of the other. Quiet, I'm thinking and I think the answer is: " Only the best for me .
Although it's not easy ...

Nyc Criminal Court 120-

Two or Three Things I know about her (and him)

Adrian Treves My mother died a few nights ago, filled with pain, slipping into the void, finally calm after twenty days now troubled and divided by an unconscious breathing increasingly difficult.

Standoli closest I've had time to think and to force myself not to do so, to remember and to find out how the insidious now fading memories of yesterday.

Now wait a con pazienza che le immagini riemergano, che i frammenti di lei com’era – e non come l’avevano ridotta la consuetudine frettolosa e la vecchiaia – si ricompongano. Non è di questo che voglio – che posso – scrivere qui e adesso.

Ma sento di dover pagare qualche debito e dove meglio che in questo spazio dedicato al dubbio, al rifiuto di luoghi comuni facili e consolatori?

Grazie a Massimo e a Morgana, genero e nipote di Adriana: grazie per aver trovato le parole e avermi restituito mia madre come io da troppo tempo non sapevo più vederla.

Grazie a tutti coloro I have neighbors who have asked me about her and that she had spoken to friends who have written to me, winning with ease and feel the embarrassment of offering the usual condolences.

Paying the debt is the third most difficult because it is impossible to summarize in words the story and the personality of who you know forever, but I'll try. The life of my mother took most of the twentieth century. Founded in 1923, when Italy entered the Second World War was the current age of Morgana. After the war my mother met my father, his partner for life: they lived together from 1949 to 1981, the year of death di lui. Non si sono sposati prima perché lui era sposato e separato in anni in cui il divorzio non era un diritto ma soltanto un peccato (per la Chiesa) o una condizione civile inesistente. Poi la possibilità di divorziare è finalmente giunta, ma ormai tutti e tre, loro ed io, avevamo imparato a farne a meno. Compagni in senso sentimentale e in senso politico, i miei genitori hanno sognato un mondo che imparasse a vivere in pace, una società equa e giusta, nella quale il benessere che allora sembrava più raggiungibile di oggi, fosse alla portata di tutti. Allora quelli come loro li chiamavano comunisti e tali si consideravano i miei, ma sono usciti dal PCI dopo l’invasione dell’Ungheria.

Years have passed and Giancarlo and Adrian have awakened in a very different world. They were two dreamers, able to travel around the world on a Vespa but tragically inadequate to deal with a reality dominated by individual success, money, by flattery, to live a daily life mediocre.

My father died embittered in January 1981. Since then my mother has lived alone for 28 years. By itself was fine, in a sense, but it was only half of an old pair of dreamers. In recent years, but lost his grip on reality and away from their memories, the two figures remain indelible in the mind and not one has ever confused: Morgana, her granddaughter. And the execrable Papi. He would say, the Communists continue stubbornly to be among us, hiding in unexpected role, like that of an old woman vanished.

I hope through the years of the imagination in power, watched with growing dismay the shadows of terrorism and left it buttoned in his shoes increasingly strong and decent, I tightened the teeth in the eighties, those drinks. My daughter was born behind the wave of Clean Hands. So I learned to dream with caution, not to get me hopes up, I realized that even in this world security economic, the reality is very important.

But thank Adrian and Giancarlo for teaching me to dream a better world is everyone's right and that we should not abandon it.

And for giving me that bit of humor that helps me in our time.

When Do Fibroids Degenerate

Story found on the web!

Eccolo là che mi aspetta al solito dehor. Lo sguardo furbetto e affusolato come quello di una volpe che punta un canarino. I capelli lunghi il giusto, appena sopra le spalle, mosca sul mento e occhiali da sole tirati su a far da contorno. Lo riconoscerei da un chilometro. Affronta il caldo di settembre con la sua solita maglietta da giovane taglia “s”, il logo d’ordinanza stampato in bella vista sul petto. Giocherella con le dita, tiene il ritmo di una canzone immaginaria che sente solo lui, toccando con i polpastrelli il bordo del posacenere. Una bottiglietta di Ceres mezza piena (oggi mi sono alzato ottimista) è posata a pochi centimetri dal bordo metallico del tavolino. Quando mi siedo gliela sposto un po’ verso il centro. Non si sa ever. - Then prick, how? - I make him. I like to greet him as he deserves. - Hello beast. Well! Clear as a fish. - Beautiful face that thou hast. What you've just finished Bonehead? - Well ... - she says, spreading his arms as if he had to fulfill a duty annoying but necessary. - O Christ! ... You make me die. I'm in the office made me bales à la julienne, and what are you from inside. But life is a shit or not? - For me ... not so - and who was desperate? - But no, the new employee of the rehearsal room. It was a week that had arrived and it seemed proper to welcome you. - And of course ... - So. Take that, beast? - Boh ... I did not even for lunch. Wait till I go to the load of sandwiches. Hey? Excuse me? - I am the guy in the bar - Bring a Ceres to me? - Come on, do the full. I'll wait. - Ok. I go and come back. I fill the dish that even a refugee fleeing the bombing. The waiter crosses my beer in my hand and looks a bit 'disgusted. I pretend to nothing and go back to Richard. There he is, his ear attached to the phone and looked bored. Will surely be one of his flame a little 'pain in the ass. When I sit down I feel that has stuck with the standard phrases. A flame much pain in the ass, I think. - But no ... It's just that I had to do. Work ... And then the thought of the little point does not make me sleep. No Tomorrow ... I can not - "now break", he says, "I'm sorry ..." - Quiet - whisper to him, knocking out the first sip of cold beer. - No tomorrow ... no, I told you. Maybe for next Thursday. I have to see how they are made. Or a morning in my office, when the slave is out ... Have you recall that I am finishing a job, ok? But yes you'll be better ... Shit, I do not know I want to know you so well? Come on, Come on ... we better see you soon, ok? - Attacks, finally. It looks up at the sky - Behold the beast! - Of course, right. Insult me \u200b\u200bas well ... But you think. I look and he insults me. So? The chick in the rehearsal room? - I asked him pointing to the phone with a tuna sandwich. - No, another ... What, you there ... ... I talked about - but who? Also that? She returned to the office? - What the fuck you have to say? He calls me, he writes ... Send sms ... Luckily, I'm mobile I keep it buried in the office. What if we put our hands on ... Elena - I background - summarize, putting in his mouth a small pizza with anchovies. - It breaks through, good. Which has the already his thoughts ... - Exactly, news? - And so with an olive Ascoli. - Eh ... We are in the countdown. If the calculations are right we are less than ten! - Sticazzi! It then becomes Riccardino Dad ... But you think. Riccardo "drill heartless" ... Dad! - Thanks! You are a. - No ... I say ... my dear, at least when you become the parent you want to put a bit 'of salt? "Papa rhino-biri-bent ..." Change quickly, your baby "... - the hum to the tune of The Wall. - Stop it, which annoyed me! - Oh, sorry. Oh, oh oh ... "sorry sorry, papa-rino" ... begin - again, attacking a pretzel with asparagus - and as you call it? Have you finally decided? - No. It turns out that we will give you two names ... the other hand, like father, like son ... - Well, I hope that is a bit 'more moderate for that matter. - From Christ! You know how, right? What are you doing? If you handed it on a silver platter, you let me be? Throw it away? I do not I see you to throw it away. And do not even see much in the father's role model ... A guy two tables in there watching us all more concentrated. We have to be a very interesting show. - Oh well, never mind that you're already pissed off. I say this to you, then do as you please. - Too good! Come on, I played all day and I split the fingers, I would not hurt me to let go a slap. - Got the message. Ok ... So? On the phone you told me about a new tour. When we leave? - I ask him, and throw down another long draft. - If all goes well in October. As long as that idiot bass player, is able to lend him a few days of leave. - Walk around this time? - Little things. A little 'in Milan ... two days in Rimini. But, damn, I feel I've got too good. This time, pretend, shit. Split of ugly. - Mmmmm .... - What do you say "mmmmm"? - No, I thought. How long have we known each other? Twenty years? - Twenty-one. - Twenty-one. And how you play with the group? A fortnight? - Thirteen! So what? - And then you tell me "time split" at least a thousand times. For heaven's sake, but ... - Fuck! - No, come on! I have confidence, really. Maybe split it seriously. What the fuck, you deserve it! - You can say that we deserve it. Fuck! Three years ago we also opened the concert Mal Mal ... Do you remember, right? - Primitives of Mal ... I know, I know. - Returning to the piece ... So - I lean a bit 'forward on the table and shoot a bell'occhiolino a betrayal - this side that wants more from you? - O shit! Again? - Come on! If you ask the dad you angry, if I speak of music do you pissed! At least we talk about pussy, so you will not break again! - Shit, if you're annoying! What can I say? Can not do without me, you see - I said, grinning while and throws down his last breath of Ceres. - Well ... that's for sure. How much is already going on? Three years? Four? - Five - he says, opening her fingers of his left hand. - And Fucking! Five years from serious stuff ... But you? What are you doing? Again by the rope? - Let's say that if you take the rope. I do not know what I mean. - Ideally, Marquis ... - But no, we met a few days ago. She was depressed and wanted to talk a bit '. Then it is sari ... "Come here" ... "... Without consular" and so that you can dance. - Well ... of course! Reason? - Boh, says it is again in crisis with the guy. She says it is another. In my opinion it is just fucking broke, poor man. Between her and gagne has gone crazy. - Easy, court ... that in a bit 'maybe it's your turn. - I do not happen. You know ... I'm sorry, but what the hell you looking at? - But no, there's one that looks a bit '... And do not fucking run! - Boh ... wants an autograph. Look at us ... we have some fans - Yes, certainly. However, this guy here know him or not? - I ask him, while our audience gets lonely and goes to the cashier. - All we need is that! She occasionally told me about it ... Dunno ... certainly not a monster acumen. You know, I'm even a little 'pain. But in the end who gives a fuck, right? If it was not me it was another. And then you just give us is here in a while. Two sweet nothings to get your fill of self-esteem and so on ... - I want to see if it is to break your face if you so much casual. - Hey! Mica is leaving because of me! - I did not tell you anything. - Seeeeee, I seen you there, with the eye of Mother Superior ... I have nothing to reproach myself. It has always been to look for her and I've always been super clear: I'm with Helen and I do not even go to the hall of the brain to let go. - To give up, no. But to fill it with horns ... that's another story. - Fuck, you! What do you know of horns? You mean you never made Michael? - No. I do to my family I want Mulino Bianco seriously. Not like you ... - Hey, you beast! I want too! We do not even try. - Di ', when you say the case ... Look here' on the radio ... The speaker on the wall seems fun to intervene in the debate: ... I take care of the leaves will be strong ... ... - Stop. Manco I like Afterhours ... - Well ... admit it is a nice coincidence! ... ... if I can ignore that the trees are dead ... - all go away ... But I do not make comparisons of cock please! - Okay ... You have won. Via comparisons. - And to reinforce the concept free, the last dish pizza. - Yes, oh well. - Oh, if you do not want to trust. Perfectly free ... My life will not change one iota. - What? 've Ever gotten the chance to experience something new? - No, well ... what does. But I always managed to control. - Piciu Bravo! One day you wake up with a pair of oak trees on the forehead, and then we will see how beautiful it is to be honest and fair! Fuck! - Come on, I gotta go - there I throw, finishing the beer. As always, it took me less than half an hour to shoot the ball like a windmill. - Already? - Hey gorgeous! There is also the world which has the people to do. Michael comes back later and I would help her to cook. - Oh, my tender loving Trottolino! - And you, sympathy? At home we do not come back? Look, it's almost eight. - Yes, I know ... I should. Today Helen was going to go shopping with her mother ... Now I come home I find myself seated in the stroller all Ambaradan ... Strong! - Eh! I see thou hast ... goosebumps emotion - and I place my arm under her nose. - No, really. I still do a round of beer and go. - Glad you ... Come on, I offer myself - I say getting up -. The order while you go out. Hello, you prick! Let me know when the baby decides to put his head out. Or when you put it in place, is clear. - No temere, bestia. Oh, ti mando il link con le date del tour. Fai un salto se riesci. Mi trovi sul palco. Io sono quello figo…
- … “quello figo con le bacchette”… Lo so. Me lo dici… da quanto? Tredici anni?
- Fanculo! – mi risponde, mentre lo saluto con la mano aperta, da dietro le spalle.
A un paio di metri dalla cassa ecco di nuovo il tipo che ci guardava tutto interessato.
- Buongiorno, amico! – gli butto lì mentre me ne vado –. Guarda che per lo show sono cinque euro…
Quello mi scruta attraverso due lenti nere come la notte. La voce neutra e fredda, da impiegato del catasto in straordinario. – Il tuo amico là… - mi fa indicando il dehor – si chiama Richard? - Yes, why? - I just wanted to make sure we got the wrong person ... Thank you - answer me out. I follow him with a glance up at the table of Richard. The guy seems to speak to him, although I do not see even moving his lips. The prick up his face and looks at him without saying a word, then smiles and nods his head. Before him the use of land, light jeans, white shirt and gray jacket, remained motionless for a few seconds. His hand slipped furtively into his jacket pocket and pulls out something dark, that the moment I can not focus. The blow comes just at that moment. A sharp sound, like a gunshot. That makes me gasp, jump and throw his wallet on the ground in fright. The cashier looks over my shoulder, eyes wide. On the shelf, right next to the cash register, a cork landed among boxes of chocolates and chewing gum. - Nicholas, but want to be careful when you open the champagne? How many times do I have to say. We're not a great prize! Go down three ..., fly! - The owner yells at him, pushing him off the shoulders. Instinctively, I turn to the outdoor area. Richard seems not to have noticed anything. It slumped again on the steel chair, with the bottle in his hand. Mr. Land has disappeared from circulation. I find him behind me, like a silent killer. - It was him! Thanks. You would not believe but I really like their music. It reminds me too much ... - Primitives of Mal? - Chance. - Exactly! - He replies, before leaving it all away happy. With its bell'autografo printed on moleskine. "Shit ... A fan. I can not believe. " I think, that the cashier looks at me seriously and not understand what's so much fun. I look at it and try to give me an attitude. - Three Ceres - I make them, picking up the wallet from the ground. I still can not stop laughing.