I stumbled upon...

Stumbleupon!
That's one of the most terrific things I had ever seen...

Stumbleupon is a little plugin for the browser, that will make you sail through the funniest things in the Great Net for endless hours!
Basically, you install the plugin, connect to the site, mark your interests, and there you go, whenever you click that little "Stumble!" button on the browser, you're catapulted in a new site, usually very nice and interesting; the fact that you can suggest it to others, and vote it, allows for (usually) only the cream of the crop of websites to open, so wasting endless hours just "stumbling" is nothing but very usual.
I already wasted my afternoon... and the list of comments I read on it is absolutely hilarious, like "You're making me bookmark the entire Web!".

That's what you end up doing... you stumble on so many funny and interesting sites that you keep bookmarking everything...

Enjoy your stumbling at

http://www.stumbleupon.com

BEWARE!
It is addictive!

After 30 years, and a lotsa news

Yesterday an emergency was declared, and I was "recalled" to Latina from Rome with maximum priority, because a surprise evening party had been organized by the family to celebrate mom's and dad's 30 years together.
So a little bit of the family went to have a dinner out in this little city, we had a great time together, ate great food, and I ended up miserably drunk and rambling about hilarious gay-transex stories (well, hilarious if you're not omophobic) I had heard during the day from a friend of mine.
Luckily, the last Lagavulin 16 kicked me down enough to stop me offending the public morals, but, too bad, it came at the end of the dinner!
Next time I'll have a couple whiskies before dinner, so to be sure :D
But yesterday was a lucky day, and the news it's brought are:
a) I should be moving to Rome in the next days
b) next week I should be going to Ukraine by car with other 3 retards like me.

Sounds like yesterday was a hell of a day!
Now, if I could only buy myself new glasses, so not to look anymore like Harry Potter... :D

And then there were none

One of the greatest novels from Agatha Christie (of whom I am a big fan).
Also the title of this post, to say that something's ended, that there's no real explanation for it, but still the result is under the eyes, and has to be dealt with, no matter how bad it is, or how strange.

The "honeymoon" is over, she dumped me, and with, let's say, very little "style".
Last time we talked, by phone, to arrange a meeting (it sounded a little "harsh" to get dumped with a text), she didn't know what to say, but still didn't say anything like the truth, and then, dignity offended at the question "let's just meet 5 minutes, and end this like civil people, doesn't seem a bad idea, no?" her tone got even angry, like it was me being the infamous scam artist; not the other way around.
Doesn't really matter, though.

She's fading away, already, albeit still a little slowly, and I am feeling strangely relieved... somehow, am accepting the reality, and my delusion with her behaviour is just helping me getting through all this.
And that's a stroke of luck, for at first I was terrified beyond imagination that her memory would haunt me for years... she's just deep mark in my memory, but I feel detached.
Don't know how to explain it; maybe the hard times will come again, but hopefully not.
It can't be all be dark, or can it?

But in these strange days something more has emerged: the love of people who did their best, no matter distance, nation in which they're actually living, or frequency of our encounters, some of my most beloved friends they just helped me in a wonderful, sweet way...
France, Ukraine, Australia, Italy, my friends casted a net around me, and that was... well, left me speechless.
So, all you are the reason of this last post.
Thank you.

And now, off we go to the next catastrophes!

The truth is in the Details

God, as the Devil, can be spotted in the details.

I did not get my plane yesterday, did not go to Ukraine.
Did not get as far as Chernigov (Chernitsvi) to buy the most important flowers of my life; suddenly, it became unnecessary.
The sheer, astounding power of a text message is something to be reckoned with; always.
A message held me down, made me reclaim my luggage, fight my stomach which was suddenly willingful to throw up an unexistant dinner, and then get ready for the *really* bad times that are coming.

She might have decided to tell me that she has someone else a tad earlier (or simply 45 minutes later) that would've had made a huge difference; sometimes, it's the Devil hiding in the details, not the Lord almighty.


I'm angry at myself for not having left despite the "inconvenient" (tragedy of a lifetime?); that's what is turning my stomach so upside down, my head angry and my soul terribly sick.
I should have gone nevertheless; there were people waiting for me there, people I love, and that have shown me their love already.
People that deserved this visit, the pictures I was bringing them, and a toast together.
No, this I will never forgive to myself; now I'm at home, angry as hell, knowing that I did the worst thing at all, and that this failure, whatever huge, has been made bigger by my stupidity in remaining instead of catching that damned plane (although I was *so* shocked at the airport that I wasn't able to collect my luggage for a hour and a half, I simply wandered around in disbelief with the occasional policeman stopping me and asking me if everything was alright).

Shit.
Shit shit shit.

My ticket is non refundable, so I suppose my 383 euros are now part of the pension fund of Ukranian Airlines (although I'll give it a try at recovering from this somehow, maybe pay an extra to be embarked on a different plane).

Music for this?
You need a pretty tough shake of "Duet of flowers" (Leo Delibes), then you really need both "Nightswimming" (R.E.M.) and "Everyone's free (to wear sunscreen)" (Baz Luhrmann, on Kurt Vonnegutt's lyrics), and then, absolutely, you need to finish with "Oh happy day", sang by Edwin Hawkin's Singers.
We all want some hope, don't we?

This was going to be мая лебедная песня, my swan's sing, because nothing was (is?) too much for her, not even the absolutely crazy idea of reaching her small hometown in the middle of nowhere to buy her flowers there, just to bring her a little, sweet, warm feel of home now that she's so far away from it.
It turns out to be мой кошмар, my nightmare.

Now, in my room, the Edwin Hawking's Singers are singing "Oh happy day".
Let's just start from here.

Over.