Farewell Party Invite

I thought while I was in the car, tossed a guide uncontrolled, jerky and imorecisa, I thought the smell of the night and did not penetrate the window partially open to let out smoke blades "era is over," and ended long ago. Indeed, it is as if countless geological ages are started and were completed in a rendevouz impalpable, inevitable, imperceptible, and have not even left a trail of initiation. I will remember the cigarette in your home and a thousand men and a thousand pains that have followed. I will remember the layers of personality, progressive loss of the superstructure together with jerky shots of nicotine and cannabinoids. I will remember the conversation with calm and frantic, crying and held strong to show me, because in the end I had to always be a role model for you and hide the faults and basting, hide errors and shit, hide the tears and look like a Doric column resisted intact for millennia. Kilos of things have changed without us noticing: I almost did not do me any more drugs than cigarettes, the coffee crop them for special occasions (half an hour with you) as a last resort (those mornings when un'hiroshima could not even wake up), tachycardia, and anxiety causes. When we met how many pipes and how many coffees? We could say a seven to ten days for both ... How much insouciance, how few prospects ... We were so naive, and that was fine. A heart worn out, my, heart waive reborn perhaps, maybe just readjusted certainly survived .. and your so skeptical lost and wounded in an oblivion retarded, so much frowned upon by me, so terrible to take me to over-protection and then to surrender. The devastation along, holidays, raveparty, distortion, and then the progressive senility, stroke of genius and responsibility and so disgusting choral shared. The reality your zebra bedspread, pasta glance, the discourse on society and the party program postmodern utopian .. yep utopias, the ones you so much! Acid green that will erase everything you left .. but thou hast already abandoned t'avevo reason I. .. not my will, but for too many things bigger than ourselves, bigger than you too. And when you told me that my start was driving for you did not know whether to laugh or move me to joy or hysteria. Berlin together, my city with you .. and no ripple on the mantle, no tension, an almost perfect co-existence, the scent of evil leavened bread and beer for a few cents, the smell of veggie burgers and amphetamine galore. The squares of Rome behind my house, behind your house, big sunglasses to hide dark circles, clothes that change as the silent snake, the seasons that scratch the skin, my guilt, my redemption I'm still looking for a decent picture with that we never had. Bologna was the city that I wanted to sixteen, seventeen, bologna and its arcades, ice cream and social centers by gianni (Cofferati was still contingent), the street, bicycles without brakes and written with chalk on the walls behind via zamboni. Bologna I hope you can give so much, first of all peace, independence (but you do always beautifully done alone, and sometimes it was you with those nearly two years apart to have to take care of this poor old), and perseverance, because in life is that you need. Stay as you, sarcasm, pure and able to smile and be surprised at all. I miss you bitch, and perhaps it is no coincidence that while today's pizza swallowed a few feet of you pass this song, Cyndi Lauper exhuming after centuries after centuries

If you're lost you can look and you will find me
Time after time

Hot Bacon Vinaigrette

When the roads lead to Rome.

Rome, Rome remains after centuries. Rome remains for me, and I notice when I get back, when I take the cab from time to return home. When I see from behind a window, for the first time in months the semicircular plaza fountain welling up when I see Via del Tritone and Via del Corso, via the sow with food thieves and the alley of my house. Rome is Rome, even when I'm depressed and I look without leaving home, without seeing the Colosseum, walk to Trastevere, without taking a beer pigneto. The Eternal City, Rome, the imperial city, Rome City Renaissance Baroque Rome city, Rome city decadent Rome papal city, Rome city Fascist Rome, Open City. Roma are the cobblestones, an expanse of rough porphyry that makes you swear in motor and high heels, but that makes the tangle of streets and alleys something crazy. Roma are Tassinari Alemanno who vote because they do not want competition, but the objects that have both on the windshield of hello kitty and talk to each other in code calling with names like "Angel." Rome is where we find the square trilussa hippies who smash the bongos in his head that sound frantic when you start to move the runaway headache alcohol. Roma are the only legally take in small bars in the center, such as illegally in the plaza of San Lorenzo. Roma are the buses that never arrive, and then four in a row .. so much so that is one of the few cities in the world not to have to stop the passage of time, because in Rome times are pure fiction. Rome is the cornettaro the evening, pizza and red ripijatte to tone down the booze and get healthy at home. Rome Campo de Fiori market in the morning and evening full of American tourists and tourists acchittate ready to be towed by forced datch suit and shirt, "Versace n'altro liters. Rome and bangladesh are the Indians that if it was not for st'ordinanza shit you sold the peroni less than two euro also home to two in the morning without flinching. Rome is traffic, against traffic criminals pe 'Zompa crossing the ztl and parking becomes a utopia and an open war. Rome is the grinder and it will pass the house at half past eight, and my house is really old school, not which has the disc, but if a hoarse screams "arrooooootino" disturbing item that goes into sleep and a few curses makes you fall asleep again. Which has the Rome Colosseum, which is a denture that is kitschy as hell, and is required maissimo, but that is always the Coliseum, and when the sun goes to bed coloring the sky coming from the street and seeing Labicana appear from afar, I still wonder, after ventunanni "but where the hell I live? Rome is the main door, with the zozzone murderess, traffic congestion, and committed work, that when you go by on a motorbike may take you a panic attack if you feel that you can not do to go with yellow. Rome is Portaportese Sunday that centuries do not see why the mere thought meiscatena agoraphobia, but all that shouting, the screaming, all those people, is folklore, and then recognize them, some are the same via Sannio de ... what if you take over and you leave nun trend anymore. Roma are the ones with the roses that you emerge at the most inopportune moments of your life is more tragic, and if not low-cut, no, I do not know how to Rome insistent anywhere.

prenestina and Rome via the flyover, which appears as a monster, an octopus metal I find it amazing me with a sense of comfort and strength. Roma are the steps of the palaces and a support wherever resounding laughter, chatter, gossip-made half-heartedly jokes in bad taste, dispelled sfumacchiando cigarettes and sipping a beer, look for support at any hour of the people, dismayed, as if we were to observe rare aquarium fish. Rome is the alley of my house, the garage and before Lara and then moon, the wolves that live there and who patrol the island in search of ham and a few caresses, they arrive at the hotel Tassinari cursing because the alley is narrow and someone is coming right on the opposite side. Rome Fontana de Trevi, and the tourists have their backs pulling coins. At one time he made his bathtub Ekberg, now the night vengno to collect coins or attempted theft with magnets. Rome Gianicolo, where the morning do puppet shows, the couples go at sunset and at night the park swingers. Rome Testaccio, where the elderly are at the heart of the old men with a disarming lucidity political playing card games from morning to evening and ballroom dancing on Sunday. Roma and Cinecitta, which once saw Fellini and Visconti, and now teems with endless rows of shampiste for casting and aspiring tronista pr. Rome is the garbatella, with clothes hanging out the windows watered the flowers and children playing soccer in the house. Rome is Piazza Navona, where resentment is still felt between Bernini and Borromini in monotonous voices of the guides, and the native huts, so do not force you to cross it for two months. Rome English Steps, with sparkling windows and the Japanese who have just shopped via conducted with the feet wet in the boat. Rome and the Tiber, a long snake that goes throughout the city, bordered by trees that lose their leaves and rows of machines where you lose your patience. Roma are pizzardoni to Piazza Venezia, directing traffic as if it were a symphony by Bach, calm their shelf. Rome piazza tor of Argentina, where they always give the appointments, too bad summer we always forget that there is never a blade of shadow and you then barricaded inside the Feltrinelli. Rome are the fountains, the water current flowing always fresh, and when you go somewhere else you just do not get used to not find fountains in the street or having to pay the glass of water at the bar. Rome is the EUR, Fascist architecture, with the gray sky that appears as a possible post-apocalyptic scenario, as a backdrop for some of Robotic Combat Daitan. Rome and St. Peter's, Rome is the Pope, and the intolerance of the Romans to the church that, like a tapeworm it has always Magnata all the people leaving just the crumbs. Rome is Corviale, stretching majestically over a kilometer, and cares of urban and social criticism, and despite everything still there. Roma and Via Veneto, where life is sweeter for some time, and there are even hard rock cafe. Rome is the bar Necci, in which the wheels with the look of the table Pasolini and try to imagine how it used. Rome know them mortacci you, sometimes I wonder if we ever had the bargain the application adheres to its literal meaning. Rome is back on a motorbike in the morning, and girartela from end to end, the wrong road a couple of times, but with a smile on his face and the breeze that keeps you awake. Rome is the Olympic Stadium, and hamlets in the coffee bottle three euros at three in the afternoon. Rome is the speculation, the price of homes continues to grow exponentially, and the sale of perpetual vacant buildings, to inflate the rates indefinitely. Rome is the pincio, where as a child I always went to play, where I could never climb trees, where the gravel I scrape your knee, where I learned to get up. Rome is a very important part of who I am, I grew up in Rome and Rome grew me, me format, and even if sometimes dream of escape, this would not change with any city in the world, be it Berlin or New York. And each time, tossed my red trolley, snorting or popping up the heat by meters of wool curled around the face, not just as a movie, the roads begin to flow from behind the window, I see what really m'è Failure .

Only in Rome can you prepare to understand Rome.
JV von Goethe

My Fingers Are Swollen After Shoveling Snow

cloud

Today I feel cloud
supported in this volatile and turbulent sky,
angry with the wind. Dressed in rain and

paiettes
let me lead, and watch the sea.

I move, then I cry and I am back.