Just to forget the present.

Something seems to move for the future. A good news has arrived, some days ago. Was waiting for that since two months, and almost got me surprised. But it’s not so easy now…having been accepted from the Commission is not the final step. Now I have to find a lab that really wants me. I have contacts with one, but they’re proposing me to go on with my current thesis, possibly with the same guy…and that’s not good, not at all.

In these days I’m thinking only about my future, about September…where I will be, doing what, alone or with whom. All this thinking just to forget the present, the people I am working with, the topic of my project. And mixing the “pure” future with this “dirty” present is not acceptable from my point of view.

I have to go to visit the place in Belgium in two weeks, and to Lausanne in a month. I hope some certainties will arrive, and honestly now I’m not able to tell what I would prefer. It’s always a tradeoff, I know, but damnit sometimes you think it should be easier. I’m loving every day more the possibility of living in Lausanne, but I will do it only under some conditions. It seems that I can decide something about my future: I have to be really careful, to understand who really wants me.

Rimmel

 

Two chords,

three strings obsessively repeated. But with the bass picked in the right way, with an amazing drum entering. Sometimes it’s enough.

Enough to describe loneliness, as pointed out in the video sequences.

Enough to remember that night when I was ill and everybody in the bed fell asleep right after watching my favorite movie (”Perdido en la traducción”), with this song going on in a endless loop for an hour or more. Surely I had enough heat, that night.

Goma

Todavía no puedo juzgar el último álbum de los “Baustelle”, lo escuché todo solo una vez…pero finalmente encontré enYoutube el vídeo de Gomma, que a mi juicio permanece su mejor canción. Y qué letra!

Settembre spesso ad aspettarti
e giorni scarni tutti uguali
fumavo venti sigarette
e groppi in gola e secca sete di te
tue cartoline-condoglianze
“hello bastardo ci vediamo”
l’adolescenza che spedivi
sulle mie tenebre incestuose-osé
ed il futuro stava fuori
dalla new wave da liceale
così speravo di ammalarmi
o perlomeno che si infettassero i bar
novembre mio facevi freddo
la fronte frigo il polso a zero
sporcare specchi era narcosi
“potrei scambiare i miei ‘le ore’ con te ?”

tremavo un po’ di doglie blu
e di esistenza inutile
vibravo di vertigine
di lecca-lecca e zuccheri

vespe d’agosto in caldo sciame
per provinciali bagni al fiume
mi pettinavo un po’ all’indietro
superficiali ricreative pietà
sabato sera dentro un buco
e disco-gomma-americana
leccavo caramelle amare
e primavere già sfiorite con te
e già ti odiavo dal profondo
avevo piombo da sparare
se stereofonico posavo
d’imbarazzante giovinezza lamé
e fantascienza ed erezioni
che mi sfioravano le dita
tasche sfondate e pugni chiusi
“avrei bisogno di scopare con te”

tremavo un po’ di doglie blu
e di esistenza inutile
vibravo di vertigine
di lecca-lecca e zuccheri

Odio chi vuole avere tutto sotto il proprio controllo

Cerco di pensare al futuro, per dimenticare il presente.

Quello che farò tra qualche mese è assolutamente incerto, quello che non sto facendo ora è l’unica certezza che ho.

Per ora ho ancora pazienza, tra un mese non lo so. E se la perdo non danneggio altro che me stesso.

Non riesco a farmi piacere ciò che non mi piace. E se una cosa non mi piace, a lei posso dedicare solo una minima parte di me stesso. Difetto atavico che in queste settimane maledico più del solito.

Gli amici migliori non sono quelli con cui ci si diverte di più. Almeno nei primi mesi di quest’anno mi divertivo abbastanza.

Oggi ho pianto, finalmente. Spero succeda ancora.

There’s something wrong…

…when in the only place inside a city where they sometimes play live music you usually find 4 or 5 students, and 2 or 3 are friends of you

…when after 1am the only choice you have is to go to a disco or to go back home

…when there are no segregated cycle facilities at all

…when you are always searching for parties, just to feel proud of being there and to put the pictures on facebook the day after

…when it’s the second time you’re going to snowboard and you bring 3 different pairs of snowboarding pants for 5 days

…when you live in a country where the tap water is simply fantastic and you buy 3 big bottles of water for 5 days on the snow

…when you have to buy “something” to prove that you have been in St.Moritz

I think I’m wrong, that’s the only explanation. I’m feeling more and more out of place. In the apartment the situation gets worse week by week. I want just to finish as soon as possible my fucking project, that in the end has no sense. But working with some people is literally a pain in the ass. And I still have no destinations for the future. The one I was thinking about seems to become less attractive to me. Maybe another one is arising, let’s see and hope.

I miss good, real friends. It has been nice seeing again one of them this week. The others are away. I feel alone, the last year was different. Here almost everybody cares only about his/her stuff. And I’m not able to do the same, not so much at least. I missed the music, 5 days without it was like in hell. I like to listen, but it’s hard to find someone who’s worth of it.

Viaggio al limite dei limiti

Tornavo dalla Francia, per sei ore e mezza ho viaggiato poco sotto i limiti imposti sulle strade che ho attraversato.

Francia: limite generale 130, in alcuni tratti 110. Alcune auto mi sorpassavano, non molte in verità. Credo fossero di più quelle che sorpassavo io.

Svizzera tedesca: limite generale 120, nelle gallerie 100, in molti tratti tra Basilea e Lucerna 80. Quasi nessuno andava più veloce di me, anzi la seconda corsia era il più delle volte libera, nessuno si azzardava minimamente a superare seppur di poco la velocità segnalata.

Svizzera italiana: dopo il tunnel del Gottardo (in cui 80 c’è scritto e a 80km/h fissi tutti vanno) mi sembrava di diventare gradualmente una lumaca. Macchine che iniziano ad abbagliare a intermittenza per chiedere di passare, ma io sono già al limite dei limiti. SUV che ricompaiono, per 5 giorni li avevo quasi cancellati dalla mia memoria. Si riscrivono il limite: non 120, ma 140.

Questo per ricordarmi che tutto è relativo: quando torno in Italia dalla Svizzera italiana mi sembra di entrare in un posto di anarchia. Dove i limiti e le regole basilari non esistono più. Chissà che impressione avrei avuto oggi, per fortuna ho dovuto fermarmi prima. Non sarei riuscito a sopportare.

Ma c’è analogia tra come guidiamo in auto e i politici che ci scegliamo? Domanda retorica, io la mia risposta l’ho già. Perché sono sempre convinto che in Parlamento siamo sempre ottimamente rappresentati. Solo trasferiscono i concetti di base, ergo fare prima di tutto e nel modo migliore i propri interessi, a un livello più alto. Tanto degli altri a noi checcefrega??

The day after the snow

From varie Lugano …

Writing therapy

Someone says that writing is one of the best therapies.

I have already experienced it, and I can certainly agree with this theory. It was three years ago, when my attempt of reborn was just at the beginning; I read on a book (”Di noi tre”, De Carlo, I guess) about one character who was used to transcribe her dreams just after waking up. I joined that idea, and for some months I used to write down on some papers my last dreams. Two things surprised me more than other. Firstly, the recurrence of the same topics: the background changed, the location was different, but in the end I was always dreaming about only a few things, and some people were often inside them. But I got more surprised when I understood how much could I learn from them, especially considering that without writing I would forget them in a few minutes. I heard several times (and sadly also from whom I used to like a lot during the last months) people claiming that they don’t dream, or just a bit: not that they don’t remember, but that they simply don’t. Bullshit! Probably they just don’t want to remember, there’s something to hide. I was used to say the same, but now I can assure that it’s not like that.

every time that I look in the mirror
all these lines on my face getting clearer
the past is gone
it went by like dusk to dawn
isn’t that the way
everybody’s got their dues in life to pay

yeah, I know nobody knows
where it comes and where it goes
I know it’s everybody’s sin
you got to lose to know how to win

half my life’s in books’ written pages
live and learn from fools and from sages
you know it’s true
all the things come back to you

sing with me, sing for the years
sing for the laughter and sing for the tears
sing with me, if it’s just for today
maybe tomorrow the good Lord will take you away

dream on, dream on, dream on,
dream yourself a dream come true
dream on, dream on, dream on,
and dream until your dream comes true
dream on

A small digression to restart my own little therapy. Here there’s no paper. You can delete a sentence when you don’t like it, or when you’re afraid that someone could be offended or upset (or whatever) after reading it. It’s much harder to write just for yourself, here. That’s why a stopped for a while, that’s why I chose to have a new space, with the hope of being able to care not so much about that. It’s hard, but I think still worth to do it.

Almost dancing

What a nice weekend, this last one!

Started on Friday with an Italian movie with Rahel, watched again after three or four years (Io non ho paura): still nice, although I haven’t read yet the original book from Ammaniti that sounds to be even better. Then we spent the night in Centro Sociale, and I have to admit that it’s always a good place where to have fun, or at least to hear some live music: this time it was a reggae band from Sicily (Gasparazzo), good enough to let me try to dance (with the help of some beer, too). After that, after 3 a.m., a spaghetti dish: I don’t know why, but they always taste better at that time!

Saturday was a bit more relaxed, but we had a nice dinner prepared by my not-parasite Italian flatmate, and then some beers with the Americans (I’m getting bored to have to always put the Latin before, damn it).

And today the excursion to Valle Verzasca, until the sun decided to hide itself, and then to Tenero. We went to the sport center, even if we were probably not allowed to stay there. We went on eating and drinking, but in the afternoon we even played (or at least, I tried to play) sports: basket, soccer, rugby (without rules, Rahel-style…) So I think that in the end we were allowed to stay there! Nice day, as often here in Ticino. And I loved the wind, not so cold, and with a bit of sand caught on the shoreline. Here there are the pictures that I borrowed from the others.

Then tonight I watched Surf’s up. Honestly, I didn’t expect it to be so cool: with great animations and a nice story inside (”He told me never to give up and to find a way, ’cause that’s what winners do”)