The itch

The same old guy with a sort of punk rock attitude procured her the drugs.

So now she was in the village, sitting impatiently at the counter of a too loud, too filled, too dark bar.
-"Tequila anejo, please" said at the girl that was secretly glancing at her from the other side of the counter.

The amberish liquid slipped into her throat together with a sense of contentment.
Some old hit from the 70s was now playing, one of those drug addicts, rock metal singers and bikers must have requested it when the line to the jukebox was long and no one coudl have thought he was the criminal for choosing such a pussy's song. What a shame to be one of those who listens to disco songs, just like listening to Britney Spears right now seems to be a crime.
What would the poeple think if they knew that "oops i did it again" had been for months my favorite song? The same thing was thinking that secret queer man who asked for the 70s Diana Ross song, no one has to know he's gay. Doesn't he remember he's in the village?

Lily rotated her black eyes and still wasn't seeing what she was expecting, no girls, no friends and she was starting to feel itchy.
-"Another please" said in the direction of the bartender. She thought she was cute, and she wondered what she was doing there, she could have been easily a model but in the end everyone has to eat, beauty or not. What was her name?

She started wondering if she really wanted to see the fairy again, well she wasn't that fairy looking, what she saw was more like a granny disguised to please the grandchildren.

The itching became more intense all of a sudden and her right hand, which was comfortably sweating on her lap, moved suddenly to placate the pain. She hit the counter, screamed and called the attention of every single eye in the room.

-"Great" she exclaimed in a cynical tone bringing her hand on the top of the counter. The bartender was looking at her, her eyes hidden behind a thick layer of eyeliner and long brown hair.
-"I'll get you some ice" and she disappeared behind the fog of a smoker's cigarette sitting just beside Lily and observing her just like everyone else.

She put 20 dollars near her shot glasses and walked out.

Spectator of life

"Have you ever felt like you had never left home?"

Lily wrote into a piece of paper in front of her. She looked up and stared at the picture of her parents standing polished just beside Snowy, it might have been vice-versa but her cat never changed her nap spot, on the other hand that pic had been carried and moved for many times.

It was just 7AM and the city was already moving, just downstairs there was full life, every kind of experience she would have wanted to encounter was waiting for her to choose, "choose me" they were whispering "choose me".

But somehow she was feeling empty and without expectations. All those feelings all over again, she once thought she would have never felt that same way again, not after moving, not after being exactly where she wanted to be.

She looked at the scribbled sheet on the table, near the flowers, a blow of hope for colors and music.

Her parents were still standing there and she remembered one conversation she had with her mother many years before.

-"Mom, I have a question."

-"What?" said Sophie with a nerve of anxiety.

-"How many times a day will I have to call you when I'll live on my own?" spilled out Lily with a sort of smug.

-"Once" answered Sophie.

Lily was living that conversation all over again, the music playing in the car and the smell of cigarette left by those Marlboro light her mom was smoking. She wasn't herself, just a spectator of her own past.

Then she realized what was that she was feeling, why she was reluctant to go out, the reasons why she was feeling a teenager all over again.

She was a spectator of her life, watching it pass like the rain that falls in autumn, without a way or a cause to stop it.

Troy

Troy was waiting for her downstairs, leaned against a newspaper booth. The big titles that day were more exaggerated than usual by the even more bigger meaning behind them.

"September 11th 2004, three years since hell".

And also:

"New York and all America commemorate for the third year the loss of the most empowering monument of the city and the even more missed fellow countrymen".

Lily appeared as a shadow behind the glass front door of the pre-war building, Troy stood straight and smiled at her feeling a slight cramp in the stomach.

-"Hey you made it on time!" said Lily greeting him with a kiss on the chick which made Troy turn pink. He seemed to feel the warmth coming up to his head which he turned down saying hi softly.

-"Where'd you wanna go miss L? Coffee place?" asked jolly Troy, he sensed he had to be the man of the situation and let the girl choose. 

They were already walking in the direction of the subway station to Manhattan -"Let's go to a park, aren't you tired of coffee places?" asked Lily without actually expecting an answer. 

And that was exactly what she got, not a word but a polite smile and an act of cavalry that let her pass first through the underground doors. 

Off they went, towards Manhattan, if that was the right direction they both ignored it. It was day off for both of them, no need to think much.

Sitting on a bench in Tompkins Square. What a lovely afternoon commented Troy in his mind.

Lily seemed lost, a sip of coffee every minute, Troy had been counting. And just when he was starting to lose his mind into the cloudiness of the day she spoke.

-"Why did your parents call you Troy?" she asked inquisitive. Troy seemed confused "I guess for the same reason they called that movie like that". What could she have said then? Call him stupid and maybe never see him again or explain him that the movie was deliberately taken from Homer's works?

-"Troy" she started gently facing him directly "are you kidding me?" 

-"What did I say? Was that stupid? Did I offend you in some way?" he couldn't even find the air to breathe fully without slipping into a repeated cough. 

Lily chuckled feeling some kind of tenderness towards him, he was a good guy.  

At the end of the day she figured that date was meant to make her realize something, war was always some kind of childish thing to do, that is mine that is yours but at least then they had Achilles and they were way more romantic about death and love.

Fogged up glass

Alex felt Lily's hip with a full but not too heavy hand.

Hands and mouths quadrupled just like some sort of serpent-like monster, sneaking and creeping all around surrounding the atmosphere with shudders. But those were some different kind of shivers, those were pure pleasure's, a graze that feels like a hundred flows of air, shaking all of a body and beyond.

They were standing in the shower, locked in a hug that felt just like a year of denied tenderness.

And they surely didn't stop there, stepping out of the shower into the puddle they formed with all the water spilled out from the glory of the moment, they made their way to the bed. They passed beyond the inhabitants of the ordinary everyday life.

A kiss, lips opening gently whilst resting on someone else's body, a wingbeat, only a moment of softness before the humid tongue can't fight the urge to come out roughly anymore and takes the lead of the body, wanting to be the only master of lust.

But there is just so far i can go, in the end, i am just a fogged up glass in someone's bathroom.

Bouganville

The loud New York City lights seemed way too far at that moment but they were right behind the corner, just as the darkish worries  covering every other thought in her mind, always floating around, like  undetectable fog.

-"I dig this spring air, makes me dizzy" said smiling Serena.

Lily and Serena were strolling down the sidewalk alongside to a fenced-in park, too big for just one family but way too small for the garden variety of everybody else.
Lily nodded and said "Smells like flowers and summer rain" and kept on going straight down the street, without knowing her destination, her hands in the jeans' pockets. 

She felt Serena glancing at her neurotically and Lily suddenly knew she had to fill the silence, run to a safe place before "the quiet night out", like Serena called it while forcing Lily to get out of her studio, got ruined.

-"Smell! Doesn't it smell like bouganville?" asked Lily still facing her shoes.
Serena stopped suddenly, sniffed deeply trying to label the parfume and then she said "What is bougan.. bogen... what's that?"

Her friend looked at her and laughed loudly as a demonstration of all the fun she was having.

Pulling the plug

She thought about all that had happened in those few months she was in New York, was Alex real?

Serena told her she was probably having some detachment issues due to the act of leaving behind everything that was real to her, all her childhood memories that kept her life in a quiet cloud of nowhere.

But what could she know about her, they knew each other for less than six months, they were only drink buddies met on the job.

After the first week working at the office she was starting to feel a little bit more comfortable and she started accepting invites out from the colleagues, even if she knew they wouldn't have had nothing in common, they were way too old and way too classy for her. Her life was moving again, maybe forward, that she didn't know but she definitely felt a sense of dizziness due to it.

Two months later Serena came around, she was new and Lily thought she had to support her, sparing her the sickness she felt in the stomach while hearing those middle aged couples talking about their children in high school.

So now Serena was in her life, she entered easily and found a good spot to nest and force herself deep into Lily.

Lily didn't know how she felt about her, finally she knew Serena was the reason why she stayed, she helped with her loneliness.

"But what about now? Was the loneliness too strong that is now making its way deep inside of me? Am I gonna become some kind of guinness record for being the loneliest twenty six year old of this era?" she thought.

The water gurgled through the pipes and Lily came back to reality. The bathtub shined with the light of the breaking dawn, she pulled the plug and stayed into the lowering pool of soapy water just as she stayed into her life all those times when all she wanted was pulling the plug.

The vortex started turning faster and the screaming of the pipes got louder surrounding the kitchen area. She felt like water, transparent and dirty used water, sucked in into a vastness of filth.

Warm whisper

She was an asymmetric person.

She left the building and headed to the first subway just around the corner. The world invaded her senses, she could smell Africa with a mix of Asia, hear Chinese and maybe she could have decided to taste some Italian. At that moment all felt real again, sticky dusty and dark; ironically that was her favorite place to be.

Did she ever lie for a caress? Who doesn't she thought, what kind of question was that to ask.

She kept thinking about that for all the trip back home, through all Manhattan, across the Brooklyn bridge and all the places in her mind.She never found the answer, at least not in her head but then again, she was an asymmetric woman. 

"I'm drowning" she said and in front of her two eyes staring, immobilized in a dark water kind of shade.

"I'm drowning" she repeated with no change in intonation. 

-"What seems to be the matter, miss?" asked the doctor.

Lily's mind spun in a quick framing of faces, the faces of every people she met and loved and cared for who suddenly disappeared from her life or simply never made contact because some unbearable differences she wasn't aware of.

A continuos altered beating of heart, rhyming with emotions.

"I can't breathe" whispered. A whisper that came out with steam caused by the very low aseptic temperature in the room. A warm whisper that meant nothing to the doctor nor to everyone else but her.

Untitled

Tell me now

the color of your skin

when the dark

shades 

of your room

invade your all

Define the lines

dividing me and you

Us

Far behind i stay

gazing at your glory

Glowing in the darkness

of wide blue eyes

United by a song

The sound of the vegetables crunching inside two people's mouths, that was the only audible sound coming from the living creatures in the house.

Comfortable clothes and accessories spread all around the kitchen.And two people facing each other. A father. A child.

They ignore what they have done in the morning, they don't wanna know about it, they don't even think about it. What has been done is just part of the ordinary lives they lead.

If they had profound thoughts they wouldn't share them. Is way too hard having to put out in the world your mystical beliefs, imagine how to share them with family, those who have a very well defined idea of who you are.

You think at least strangers don't expect nothing from you, you get to be somebody they don't happen to know and if you are a good person, a cashier or a prophet they really don't care.

Faces aiming at their own plates, prick the food, chew the food, swallow the food over and over again until the plate comes out clean as they taught you to do, cause a well behaved person finishes his plate.

And you hope the person at the other side of the table will not attempt to a conversation, you already know it wouldn't work, because you are so alike but so far away.

They stand there united by a song that is ironically titled "For your own benefit".

Hittin you

"I wanna hit you just to see if you cry".

I LOVE THIS SENTENCE!

Is a little bit cruel, I know. Seriously though, you never felt like that over someone?

There are so many reasons why you could be feeling like hitting someone just to see if they cry.

Hit someone who is bugging you over and over about the same thing, telling you the same reasons and expecting you to react when you told them already a million times that you don't wanna hear them.

When someone is so into you that nothing you do can make them change their mind about you, even if you put fire to a church full of people.

Hit people who are always optimistic, always smiling, always so into the clouds and you ask yourself why aren't they moving fast, stressing and bitching like you are, why aren't they real?

Well then there are the obvious reasons, hit people to make them suffer, that has never been my purpose but you never know, some people need to be smacked down sometimes!

Maybe i am just feeling utterly and overly angry because, as you should remember, today i went to my grandma's and she said to me that men have to boss their wives."That is the way it has always been" she said, and that i am an alien stranger to this world because i don't want to be bossed around by anybody.

Her conclusion was "Then, men were in command of everything and that is how it should be".

I am still trying to recover.

And don't tell me she is old cause i don't care, she is still alive in 2008 and she needs to get over this shit ...

A sweaty day

It was one of those tired mornings. Woke up at 10, got up at 10.30.

What happened in those thirty minutes you would ask; nothing but a neck and neck combat between my two inner halves.

- I am too tired to go out at the doctor's like i said i would. I have to go to Bologna and i have to wash my hair.

- I'll go to the doctor's cause i said i would but then i am not going to Bologna.

At that point I go for a coffee and all clarifies in my head, i do what i have to do.

I am ready to take the bus and go to the railway station "I haven't taken the bus in a while".

And there i was, sitting in the 2nd class carriage of a regional train, august, in the middle of a plain.As the train passes through the fields filling the space between a town and a city I notice the people.

I am sitting alone with my ipod on and a book to re-read.

The regional trains have open carriages in which the seats are disposed by twos, two facing north, two facing south and so on.

We all sit far away from each other, "I don't know you, why should i seat in a place where you can watch me and maybe intrude my solitude?"

The old man sitting in the right side of the carriage (i sit on the left side) looks at me, maybe is because of my 3/4 pants or maybe is because of my orange converse.

He is trying to see the title of my book but the only page he can see is the back cover, no picture of the author on it, only a glimpse of curly red hair. He looks outside his window.

People pass, they go, some come in.

I change position, i look outside the window and go on reading. The old man peers at me, and still he wants to know what I am reading.

Unknowingly i seem to move a little in his direction, positioning my front page right in is range of vision. He seems to catch some of it, he looks disappointed, turns away.

An asiatic man, korean i think, is sleeping behind him.

A girl who must be my age passes through every seat leaving a little card, it says "I am poor, i have three brothers to feed." And while she heads to the end of the carriage leaves behind a sour smell of sweat.

I look into my wallet, put 2 euros on the paper and look away. The old man watches me, maybe he is thinking i am a rich young lady, maybe he thinks I am a young fool.

The asiatic man is awake, sees the begging piece of paper next to his seat, he doesn't move but still waits for the girl to come back at him. She asks for money, he looks at her and then looks away.

I wonder, while the maybe rumanian maybe albanian girl thanks me for the money, how must he feel, being a non-begging immigrant in this country and seeing this people in a situation close to his own begging for money.Does he feel stupid for not doing it himself? Does he feel pride for having a job and house for which he worked hard for?

I always sit back to the direction I am going, it gives me the time to see what i am leaving behind.

As I slide outside the train and into the paying bathroom i wonder.

80 cents to pee.

An american girl puts 1 euro and the door doesn't open, i head to the button but a man of the most ungrateful race comes out saying "You have to pay".

What should I do

Is it stupid to be waiting for someone to come back into your life?

Someone you were drawn to but you knew right away wasn't right for your life, who you are and what you do.

An attraction that felt good, that made you inhale every little smell; hear every sound like they were the only one existing. And now there is nothing you can do to forget them, nothing to erase the good feelings that were floating into your body at that time.

You know this person wasn't good, at least not for you, and after a while the curtains of love one time spread out onto your eyes come out and reveal you the truth, the so very cold truth. 

At first you get mad, you mostly get mad at yourself for not realizing it at the beginning cause you are sure it would have spared you from suffering inside, cause no one had to know, you knew this person wasn't good for you.

But you took the plunge and now you realize you dived into an empty pool, the only liquid you can find now are the blood you lost from hitting the vacant pool and the saliva you spat all through the journey of getting to know and love this person without exchange of any sort.

So, do you think is wrong to still want this person in your life? Is it wrong remembering only the good things? Should i focus on the bad side of what has happened and go on hating or forgetting this person or should I grasp to the good memories?

Grandma's Monster

So, like every other friday, i went for lunch at my grandma's.

Today was a bit different cause i had to bring her to the cemetery and to the supermarket.

Is a bit embarassing to go out with her cause she is 83 years old and she doesn't understand what is happening around her for most of the time and for that she is very rude with everybody, the other customers who (she says) keep going on her feet with the cart, the shop assistant and whoever else.

After that we went home, i starterd bragging about something, she laughed at me while i was keeping an eye on the boiling pasta cause my intention is to eat it not drink it like she does.

We eat in about 10 or 15 minutes and then we wait for the time to pass.

At some point she says to me "The other night i saw a movie. It was strange, there was this girl who worked the streets who made friends with this other girl who brought her home, they also slept together in the same bed but the parents of the girl weren't happy cause she was a prostitute."

I wasn't quite following her but then she said "i don't know what happened at the beginning but the other girl had a broken arm" and that was when i realized my grandma was explaining to me the plot of "Monster"!

So i say to her that i had seen it too at the theatre years ago and very satisfied she goes on with the story saying that the prostitute was killing men for money and the other girl escaped with her because the prostitute needed affection. She hadn't seen her children in a while so while in bed with the other girl she was cuddling her and loving her like she was her own child.

I was about to burst into the biggest laughter ever but i restrained myself cause, if not, i would have had to explain everything to her or find a lie to tell.

Then my grandma said "I liked it cause the actress was very good in her part and her smile was beautiful."

My points are:

1 Charlize Theron's acting is so good that also my 83 years old grandma 

  understands it.

2 Lesbianism is so out of the thoughts of my grandmother that she doesn't 

  even recognize it when she has it under her nose.

Tonight i am gonna see it again to have clear in mind what my grandma has seen, if she is really so close minded about something to don't even realize it or if the acts in the movie could have been mistaken...who knows!

I just saw it and or my grandma slept for most of the movie or she just was ashamed to tell me they were lovers and that they actually had sex.

A part from that is strange to know your grandma watches movies so full of verbal and physical violence.

Controlling dreams

Everyone knows i have a great imagination. Not great for awsome but great for huge.

Most of the time i try not to think about it too much 'cause i know i would discover too many "dark" things about myself. But when i sleep, that is all another story.

I dream like a maniac. I always remember what i dream and sometimes if i wake up during a dream i can go to sleep and continue the dream i was having.

For all the dreams i remember there was only one in black and white and i still was a kid.

I remember what i thought when i was the protagonist of my dream, i don't always remember all the people in them.

A person i used to know introduced me to a movie titled "waking life" and at some point it said that is awful difficult to control a dream.

I was maybe thinking about it the other day so that same night i dreamt something real strange, similar at the cartoonish style of the movie and i remember i thought "this dream is real strange, is all upside down".

Now i can't say i controlled a dream but that is my goal for the near future. I wanna be able to do as the movie said : when you are dreaming and you want to know if is reality or not you have to go and switch the light, if it turns off is reality if the dream ends well...it was a dream.

So i am thinking, from now on i wanna keep a journal of all my dreams here on myspace (not the porn ones) until i can control one.

Feel free to tell me your interpretations to them.