Last day of carnival, or "all the pain money can buy"

February ends today, and I can tell you, this day has been one of those days that no matter how you see them, they will still surprise you.
Perhaps it's just the carnival-effect of february, probably spanned to all the days of this strange month, not just to the usual week!

While the morning didn't bring interesting news, but for some Linux tinkering (some things never change), the afternoon was amazing.
A quick text to Инна led at 14:30 led me to a great rush to catch a train to Rome, for she accepted to go together to listen to "The Creation" by Haydn, a concert given for the 700th year of Rome's university "La Sapienza".
My rush ended up in a train leaving in front of my eyes, in a little quarrelling at the ticket office, and in another huge rush in Rome from the train station to the university; *that* was some running... ;-)
We met, and found a way into the hall, and I already was lost in her fantastic eyes; I mean it, I just couldn't stop looking at her, and the more I did it, every little detail of her was just looking better and better, until she finally become oh so much wonderful... my words, they've left me, and I lost them... that was too much for us both.
I may have resisted her a little, despite her grace and beauty and dark and deep eyes and her caressing voice, and thought for a second that I had at least an advantage on her when she as much as dared to make a phone call during the concert!
But that just led to ignominous metaphorical tumbling to her feet when I realized that the only thing she was concerned with during that exquisite and compelling music was to share that with her very distant mom, so she phoned her to make her feel neared.
I was ready to be executed.
And was almost going to whisper in her ear asking solemnly "Why do you do such wonderful things with such incredible ingenuity and ease?".
My voice would've betrayed me too much, and her ear on my nose, when I had already whispered to her during the concert, it was too much of a temptation.
I didn't say that.

Later she left, despite my warnings that she was going to break my heart and leave with an entire piece of it, and that not even the wonderful music was enough of a medicine for it, but she left.
I stood silent, and angry, and then wondered about this strange question while staying alone: "How many times a day can a man die?".
And then I rushed after her (it was rushing day, it seems), and catched her already outside of the building, and looked at her and said something stupid like "Creation has ended, Adam and Eve will come in act three, and love will be born"; well, the opera really is like that...
I also added, "It's cold outside, come inside where it's warm. Do not go away."

She left nevertheless.
I knew for sure that one can die several times a day.

I went back home, had a quick dinner out near the train station, and then drove home, and lo and behold!, snow was falling on my Latina, for the 3rd time in my life...
This febrary has truly performed magic till it's very last breath... I can only wonder what it's got in story for its next incarnation.

We have been warned.
And I feel lonely.
Yet, not desperately sad.
Goodbye Mr. February, I owe you a lot.

2 poesie

In Italiano, perchè è così che sono scritte.

La prima te l'ho scritta mentre ti guardavo, prima che il concerto iniziasse, perchè non potevo tacere, e per non parlare, o abbracciarti, allora l'unica era scrivere.
Come al solito, la cosa sbagliata...

"D'onde, di parole a fiotti come canti di uccelli tra l'ombre,
quanta poesia, quanta dolcezza e dolore, quanto candore
e sogni e riflessi di desideri mai stanchi, mai franti,
quanto, quanto in un solo istante,
in un attimo che adombra ogni cosa distante,
una immagine ecco, io trovo le parole, ma lente,
lente e sofferte, come vento soffiano su valli deserte,
ne sento il rumore, ne avverto il fragore, ma negato me n'è il dolce pudore.
Parole, mi beo e m'illudo, che pusillanime, quanto inadatto,
ti sogno accanto senza parole, nel silenzio sorrido e m'abbatto,
ma quel tuo viso, quel viso che primavera porta festante,
dagli occhi neri e dolcissimi, velati di malinconia distante,
e silente, che sono io, e il mio sciocco sperare fremente?
quel viso mi ha vinto, depongo le armi,
combatter non può chi il nemico sol teme non l'ami,
e concede se stesso alla lama
come assetato agogna dell'acqua fontana,
ecco, in silenzio ti guardo,
me stesso, vergogna fatal baluardo,
baciarti non posso, ma forte è il bisogno, e in me presto accade,
è dolce il sapore di te, di come ti sogno, di come t'immagino, mia splendida arcade."


La seconda, è un, ehm, stralcio di email con annesso "poema epicomico", entrambi destinati ad un carissimo amico.

"...a cui forse parteciperà anche lei, la bellissima Inna, che con le unghie e con i denti cerco di strappare al bifolco ricco e anziano che se la vuole sposare di gran carriera, prima di essere troppo vecchio per arrivare con le sue gambe all'altare...
Quanta amarezza, e quanta ripetitività in quello che dico, eh? Ma lo sai, lei mi ha riportato la voglia di amare qualcuno, che per me è come una malattia rara che colpisce una volta soltanto in molti anni, e allora, perchè non accettare pugnace il confronto?
Quell'uomo che di nozze innaturali si vuole ammantare,
fosco vegliardo scabroso codardo e laido infingardo,
atterrirò forse al pensiero di poterlo annientare,
o a quello più cupo, di soccombere e nel nulla sprofondare?
Ma allora chi leva il vessillo! A questo mondo di croci e crociate,
di genti e di fedi slavate e bandiere dal sole essiccate,
chi lotta per un sogno tessuto in notti infinite?
Chi scorda l'istante per rincorrere ormai ombre troppo sopite?
Tirarsi indietro? Giammai!
Non ciò che offri riavrai, è cosa stantia, a creder è vero gli stolti vi invita,
ma nell'offerta si libra, l'anima sorge riatta al gioire
più profondo e all'amore, e al tetro d'amor morire.

Ecco, vedi, il solo pensarla mi suggerisce rime d'ogni tipo, romantiche, silenziose, comicamente epiche come queste, che vuoi che faccia?
Almeno leggitele e sorridi, e poi da buon amico, perchè lo so non mi deridi, suggerisci artifizi ed inganni, stratagemmi ed affanni, per vincer lo draco imbiancato di neve degli anni ma assiso su tesori che di lei fan trepidar non l'cor bensi le membra, e a me sconvolgon programmi. "

In the rain, often we complain...

This continous rain is really attacking my mood, trying to bend me and my force of will...
My ear aches, it's cold outside, the mountain's got snow, so no mountain biking is allowed, my underwear is not drying because there's no sun... I'm not really happy it seems!

I almost finished my exams though; I only have a tiny little one left, and then my dissertation, and then my university adventure will finally end, seems so strange after so many years...
(yes, in Italy, and when you're a lazy dumb like me, it *can* take years...)

Nevertheless, february is coming to an end, for sure, and march promises to bring lots of news!
"White week", 7 days of skiing in the Dolomiti mountains with some of my very best friends, weather getting better, and my dreams about her growing still stronger... what could a man ever desire more?

These are my days.
As to my hopes, I do not know.
But from these lines, I wish to thank you, Shruti, you gave me the right help when it was needed, when a rainy day was turning into a stormy month.
If I can get a better man, I know, you know, it's thanks to you too.

But in the sun, as I hope, again we'll be on the run, and happy, and lively.
And if dreams they don't come true, and we won't be given what's it's hoped, due,
then the sun will come up, nevertheless,
its warming arms nothing short of another dreamy excess,
and blessed, or messed or even lightly caressed,
days'll come and leave fast, and sweet in clouds and dust,
in days bathing and sinking,
in days so warm we will be dreaming and living.

You must have been a beautiful baby

Valentine's day has finally passed!
Obviously spent at a single's party, and, too bad, it was really a monday night... this strenghtens the assertion which I was already inclined to consider tremendously true:
"Where could you find such a bunch of losers except at a singles bar - and then only on a Monday night, when they'd reckon on less competition." which I found on the everlasting-everythingknowing internet! :-)
It has now raised to the first, brand new dogma of my incubating religion: "loserism", a arcane faith born again through the deep analysis of ancient texts, recovering of lost traditions, and dutiful applications of losers like me!
Stay tuned for news from this bravely forming religious world!

Anyway, having survived yet another of those sickness inspiring day (sickness inspiring when you're lonely, and your heart's owned by someone who doesn't give a straw about it, of course!) is already a victory, and seen under the proper philosophy, it's the first step towards redemption :-)
(doesn't this new religion look very promising ;-)

On a different tune, my last exams are coming at last, 23rd and 28th of february, and then I will finally be just a step from my master of arts in philosophy; then I'll have to write a dissertation, but I won't dwell into this terrific subject right now, it is just too scary, enough to make me feel like failing the exams just to postpone it!

As it is due in a diary, I did an analysis of the present, the past is obviously visible through the previous posts, so it is now time for some good intentions to be laid as foundations for the next days:

Intention 1)
Инна, no I won't let that go so easily; I'll play my cards, bluffing if it's needed...
how can I ever imagine of not sinking in your wondrous smile, even if for one day onle?
how could I ever ask myself to desist, when my whole day is a tribute to the beauty you inspire me, and every cloud masking the sun is as cold as a shiver I get whenever I meet your eyes?

Intention 2)
Become a better man?
Any suggestion is strongly appreciated...

Intention 3)
Breathe.
As in life.
Breathe, for air's enrichened by the dreams of every man and woman who dareth to dream, their dreams broken into splinters, never lost, never to be the same gems again, never their brilliance to be shadowed in failure's bitter pain.

Intention 4)
More prosaic, tell you about Roger Rabbit's theorem.
Provided I haven't done it already.

Intention 5)
Dedicate intention 3) to her.
This I already accomplish here.

April come, she will...

...that's what I do hope so strongly.
The miracle happened, like all miracles, unexpected.
She was sitting and studying, with other people I knew, they invited me to sit, and we studied and chatted for hours.
Then they left, it was me and her and another girl.
We talked, and she was looking straight at me, silent, lost.
Now, I know it's my imagination, more dangerous than a night blind drive, but I saw, I wish I saw something in her eyes, in the way she was intent in listening.
When the other girl left we stood together, she quarreled with her old man, not her father, just her man who's way too old for her, and we headed out for a cup of tea, and we had a fantastic time.
I had for sure.
I even asked for a miracle at the woman at the counter, she said they had none, just tea, and asked me back why would I want one; I answered "Madame, I think you could well imagine by yourself... what less than a miracle could perform enough magic for that?". She smiled.
I knew a miracle wouldn't come.
But that, that was among the best time of my life.
Whatever she does, its magic, no less, not a constellation in the brightest night sky can show such a perfect and pure light, no beauty in the high peaks of wonder can expect to shadow her.
It's not in human power, not in heaven's power.
I know I'm letting words flow on this electronic paper with no control whatsoever, maybe I'm just pathetic, but I do not really care, as long as these words record this day; an instant picture of my life, worthless and priceless.

Good Lord, thou shalt give to the men of good faith and will; I deserve not, and yet I dare to ask.
Sometimes, we just want to leave our dreams, don't we? We want to live them in our lives.

The only addendum, just to set back on earth my already flying feet, she was very angry at her oldman-friend and wanted me to write something to him for her and asked suggestions about how to deal with him.
Oh my! I sensed too much of a clash of interests, and at least I stood out of it all!

It'll be a long night.
I know that nothing will come out of this all, but, sometimes, you don't want to know it.
You just want to fall asleep dreaming of her.

Progress on the eastern front

In the form of a great mark in the Russian language exam!
And in a renewed hope and eagerness about the possibility of mastering this incredible language, which gets more and more complicated every day ;-)

No progress though in the advance to the true heart of the east.
My armies are unsuccesful with Инна, the wonderful ucranian girl my dreams are chasing now and have been for more than 4 months.
My armies refuse to fight, to even show up in battle, for a sight from her is enough to make them horribly shy.
The battle is without honour, but with lots of colour in the resurgent beauty of nature.

From my position, I foresee a very sad Valentine's day...
...sounds like Sgt. Pepper's lonely heart club band is playing for me.

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