667th and the last.

“Man himself is divine in that he feels. He is the very feeling of God. God created him in order to feel through him.”

When one starts a business, one must finish it with honor.

I have written my life on these cyber pages. Nowadays it takes a while before you hold in your hands the physical outcome of your work—often we deal with blank screens and flashing lines. Perhaps in thinking we can now store pages and pages of ramblings never running out of space we reduced any chances at an earned immortality.

Nevertheless, that is a discussion for another day.

I am writing this with other goals at hand. First and foremost, to thank. To thank those who have been here with me all along. 666 times I chose to inflict my conclusions, you chose to listen. And that is a lot to say in a world like ours: where the time of the day runs out of hand fast, and we are all scheduled to work in limited attention spans. I thank to all those who told me of their familiarity with these pages on nights where conversations flowed brighter than blood, where wine wetted the compliments that their words forged, when they quoted unexpectedly a piece of my mind, making me blush in confused gladness.

Even those who silently remained aloof, I knew deep down that they knew everything I meant to say. Sometimes I was bound by that fear of recognition, and I kept things to myself. Other occasions I spilled out the anger and the frustration to those I couldn’t do so face to face. But either way, I knew someone was always listening, and that urged me to tell the story which was hardest to tell: my own.

I despise goodbyes. I often skip ceremonies and pretend to be indifferent to not let it show that I remain with a broken heart at departure. This, I can only hope, is not a goodbye: therefore I do not despise or fear it.

I loved being here. And I was here only when you were. Only when I knew there was for certain an ear open to my voice I chose to speak.

Yet we all have to change faces and move on. I will not quit doing what I do the best—that is to tell stories. I just will not do it here anymore.

Perhaps a different page I will turn, perhaps you’ll hear of me tomorrow, perhaps never again. But whatever comes out of life, comes out of me, you'll know. One way or the other.

Right now this blog—this aimless yet excessively vital place of heart—leaves behind the phase of existence it enjoyed for so long.

It is time to say goodbye now.

Farewell, and thank you again, for listening.


May we meet on the next page.

...

I am aware of the awkward silence but give me two days in a row and i tell you all about the craziness. i thought i'd cancel this place/ delete it/ forget all about it and start anew but i think i won't do so. we practically grew up together now, didn'T we?

wetsuit.

"put a wetsuit on come on come on
grow your hair out long
come on come on
put a tshirt on

do me wrong do me wrong do me wrong"

i'll keep my eyes fixed on the--

what would you do now in light of it all?

the paper on the wall soon would peel and fall

the picture of dorian gray

sadly i find myself often wrapped in very basil like moods--i don't know why i haven't been writing, or if i ever will on here. goodbye for now. if i do decide to fully terminate this page i shall do so with a proper farewell.

for now. though. take care.

it's always something before the late night

the most fun you could ever have is when you're getting to know a band.

bands are always an explosion of several chemistries. they're always more dynamic but easier to grasp than a single musician.

i always start off by listening to the debut album. the band may have 50 albums by the time i discover them but no worries: always start with the debut album. it's always a tasty combination of awkwardness and selling out. there's a desperation to put out a style so mostly songs are similar to one another--especially if you're rolling for a rock band. cause then they have to be upbeat and heated and have to show off their tough skin. clothes are mostly picked out by the band members early on, styles aren't perfected yet, there's always a youtful look and a freshness to everything the band does while they try make themselves look cool--desperately or subtle.

they always claim that they picked the label that allowed them most creative freedom which is as true as it gets in a debut album, not that it gets that true, ever, but debut album is when it's mostly at the top of its factuality--because they are already desperate for fame and glory anyways and able to make the wrong choices by themselves without the need of a hot shot executive hovering over them.

so debut albums have a danger of having 12 of the same song with usually one, at most two that breaks the lining. if a band is good, then mostly they're all good. if a band is all right, they're mostly good. if a band's weak, it's just a stepping stone, unworthy of a second play.

for the good bands that have either the talent or the balls to break out the pattern of the album, there are always precious gems that later--if you get hooked on--turn to have cult worthiness for the fan. trani for example. one of the best songs that evert surfaces a debut album.

i have that freshly spring jitters that you get when you start discovering a new band. there's always new stuff to catch up on--live performances, videos, interviews. you slowly notice speaking voices, most used words, hand moves, customs, laughing styles, repeated pieces of clothing. it's not that different than getting to know a lover. same process, different results--or maybe even same process, same results.

more on cage the elephant soon. now that you know my process, you will better understand my conclusions.

worried blues

unconsciously wore this evening one of big brother's shirts that i had taken from him long long time ago. do not get bored of my constant complaining: i am wired to show how i feel and i miss my brother already.

ain't no rest for the wicked

big brother took off at 4 am-- my sleepiness softened the blow but still not entirely at peace with the idea. had huge plans for the day: that is i was supposed to read the wondeful amazing living in the end of times by the nuclearly incredible slavoj zizek, enjoy lots of coffee and silence around the house, listen to lotsa music, then a movie at night with chips and coke. instead i woke up way too late, skipped breakfast, had a way too late lunch, did dumb stuff on the internet--only good thing i managed to take out was to listen to the debut album of the band cage the elephant--listening to a debut album is always the best of rides.

i tumbled on a few dylans that kept my mind at ease and all that but managed to put together no reading. the sun came up, not happy about that either. around 3 pm i did a minor supply run (to buy chocolate chips for pancakes+chips+coke) when the weather was still darker and windy--oh the beauty in that--but the lousy sunshine came back up and washed all the autumn loveliness. the end of summer is nigh though and that makes me joyful.

tomorrow plans with the bestie to see a movie and chat a little. but now get dressed up and off the go have dinner over at auntie's.

one of my faves of the day:

the rain unravel tales

turns out it rained while i was sleeping. the after-rain coolness still lingers on though, and the lovely gray clouds that stuck around a bit longer so i could see them.

big brother's taking off to a warmer climate early tomorrow morning. i hate goodbyes. needless to say. to take leave turns out to be always much much easier than to stay. and i turn out to be much much more emotional than expected. been walking around with a tear hidden in the corner of my eye for some time now, unwilling to grow up and face the fact that it is just 6 months, and big brother's gonna be back before i know it. yet lonesomeness already settles--not because we part--because we parted before even for a whole year when i left for my crusade in the far away land--but because he parts and i will be still in the same disfunctional whirlwind--of which we both share the same mark of damage.

that being said you can only hope things to turn out all right, and i'm sure they will.

the weather is prefect though. last night as i shut my door and went to bed i could hear the wind howl and shake the doors: it is the most peaceful sound anyone can fall asleep to. you feel like you're in the middle of dark deep forest and almost smell the green leaves being hurled around by the storm's will. the wind must have slowed down by the time i wake up (long after noon) and the ground had dried out but the grayness and cloudiness still stays. i had had enough of summer as it is, so i won't mind if we stay on like this from now on.

also wonderful about the weather: as i have mentioned a friend of mine had suggested an album to me by danger mouse and daniele luppi called rome. it is a beautiful album, but i had been thinking how fitting it would be to autumn weather, and even thought i wasn't enjoying it to its full capacity because the weather was so burningly hot and the sun was so direct and merciless-- so when i woke up to this wonderful weather i immediately brewed my coffee and plugged in that lovely piece of work.

strange desire: i woke up this morning wanting to be walking down an also cloudy brooklyn street with a plastic coffee cup in my hand my fave beatles bag hanging over my shoulder on my way to some open market sight seeing and then to ravage through a bookstore or two. strange things we want for no appearant reason. but then again the apple had been a soft spot for me since i was one of those unbalanced teenagers (that i perhaps still emotionally am) and by the corner of my eye i look up to the large photographs that i had torn out of the calender my host family had given me and put up on my wall--with the colorful joyful majestic christmas tree by the rockefeller center--by which i had stood and posed for a photo--i am a strange person i guess-waking up to miss jim to miss bob to miss exra to miss my fave zeppelin song and even to miss new york of all places--

and if you still can't feel the steam of coffee and the sole of my shoes treading a new york path this may give you a hand to do so:



"the flowers of the city..."

love song

...

About to learn where the most important person in my life is about to spend his next 6 (perhaps 12) months.

good luck, big brother.

...

the restlessness of having some uneexplained incapability of reading: dissapointing as well. burying all that by more jack white.

two against one

a good friend suggests an album she likes--with the most delicious most wonderful jack white--and it is but a wonderful distraction to clear this million dollar head of mine. been trying to tie up a story that i have left unmended months ago but jack white is stealing my thoughts.