I had a crush

I had a crush, at first sight.
I left the two friends i had come with.
I was zoning amongst the shelves in a big cultural store.
Just browsing and watching around, then
STOP!......





As soon as i took it in my hands i felt i was melting,
i slid my fingers on the back, unpolished and white,
then on the front over the glossy black and white photograph representing an old man,
i flipped inside, i smelled the pages,
it was a small and thin book,
i felt i wanted that one,
i begged my friends to buy it for me, as i had no money in my pocket,
i originally didn't plan to crack and fall for anything in that place,
its title is "ode to old age, by Herman Hesse"
and it's such a wonderful book, i'm head over heels.


-----



That reminded me of two complementary stories that happened in my life and that represent me well.

When i was twenty-two, that movie came out: "About Schmidt" with Jack Nicholson, about an old guy being forced to retire by the company he spent all his life in, then his old wife dies suddenly, and the guy ends up alone and at a loose end, so he goes on a road trip across the usa to reunite with his lost of sight daughter, anyway that's a film about old age and the questioning it brings, about the flickering of the body, and the insignificance of life, and despite my young age at the time it attracted me and i sincerely enjoyed it; Around us (i went with a friend) in the small theater room there was few seats taken, and only by old people with hair gone white and shrivelled bodies.

Then, another day, years later, evening was coming, i went out on my balcony, on the third floor, i was only dressed with the pants of my pajamas, going down right under my knees, shirtless i leant on my elbows to the parapet, i felt to chill out, thinking i will be alone tonight, but on my left the glass window opened, and my neighbor, a young girl, student of medicine around twenty-one came out too on her balcony to chill out, at first i felt uneasy, i didn't expect someone (even less a young girl) to see me in that indecent pose, i pretended to haven't notice her and i kept silent, but she didn't look shocked and adressed me, (what's funny is that she was too in her outfit for the night, or was it that i met her another evening like that and she was wearing little cotton shorts and thin tank top so that she was copying my nonchalance), anyway we had a very nice chat, just getting acquainted to each other (she was very impulsive and quite intolerant if i recall, she moved a couple of years ago), and one moment in the conversation she asked for my age, i think i was twenty-eight or twenty-nine at the time, or maybe thirty-one, whatever, and when i said, she was sticken, she totally believed i was a student too, i couldn't imagine she judged me on my look, on my nakedness, and i said something stupid like : "oh it must be because of the skateboard and the guitar", i meant she thought i looked younger because i was practicing activities that usually young people do, but obviously she couldn't see inside my appartment, she couldn't see the objects through the window, (sometimes my mind can't believe like that and searches for a sort of rational way to explain others' reactions, even more when it's a compliment toward me), but no, she was referring to my body, that was awkwardly exposed here before her eyes, and i can't deny even now as i just turned thirty-three my body is fit and thin as a twenty years old.

That's an ambiguity i carried until then, an old mind in a young body, and because of that imbalance it's difficult for anyone to place me somewhere, and for me to belong anywhere, what will happen when i'll be older, i feel i won't lose the passion inside, the capacity to be amazed and i will never be unfit, i'm a strange creature.

(blushing) Mary

"Oh so you say you must go back home! Why don't you confess you just don't want to stay the evening with geeks and marginals, we're just mere test subjects for you, to try the methods you learnt in your school of psychology, you want to fumble and tickle at our psychosis, and then you go back to the "real" world with your oh so intelligent companion, or maybe you fear to have fun with us, to have a good discussion, to have a challenge, and finally like us more than you're allowed, maybe you fear you couldn't get someone else, not so easily, you're young but the time already put its marks on you, on your juvenile face, that body once fit in front of a fashion photographer starts to let go, and you're already the slave in that situation, watch us! are we despicable, unlovable, unattractive, uneducated?!, don't you see how you're acting, your smart boyfriend keeps you under his thumb, he's a special one, so intelligent, and maybe we're not so different, try to notice the values in us; He, he uses you to cast light on himself, you're his disciple, you're the one hanging on to him, slavishly clinging, and you know if you're not good enough he will drop you, to find someone that will adore him better than you do, who's life is sad?!, who's life is desperately set?!, have this pleasure, it's pathetic to be affraid of uncommon men!"

making Enemies (but i keep cool, so i'm not the one making enemies, and i don't turn myself into an enemy)

"I once asked an old man: Which is more important? To love or to be loved?
He replied: Which is more important to a bird? The left or the right wing?"

    François Maye : I asked my old mom that, and she said for her it's more important to love, that is to have the ability to love, because no one can strip you of that, it's something that's inside you and that you produce infinitely, you can never be sure of others' feelings as you're not them, but you can trust what you feel and decide to love.
   
    Steph Dizzo : and that's why some people love unconditionally, regardless of the other person's feelings. however, at some point, these people can get hurt when they're not getting anything in return. But is THIS true love? When you love someone regardless of their feelings and without expecting anything back? Well, I think people see love differently, it's an unique experience for each individual.
   
    François Maye : For me true love is obviously the unconditional love, not the egoic love that is spread all around (where you expect someone to give you something or to be like you want), if you are hurt because you don't get anything in return that means it's egoic love, but i agree if you decide you love someone that doesn't love you back, it's a waste of energy, so it's better to love someone that can love you back, that way the feelings are growing on another level, and accept and respect the others, even those who can't love you, to spread positivity amongst humans, that's also why we have to speak out, say our positive feelings to others, to the one, regularly when we feel it, so there's no misunderstandings and we can keep a flame, and then accept the answer of the other, whatever it is, yes or no, if it's "no" just accept it and move on.
   
    Mio Black Amphetamine : interesting.. I wanna be stupid and happy too=P (I just saw the post and I know that it was posted yesterday, so don't judge/comment)
   
    Steph Dizzo ; Why stupid?
   
    Mio Black Amphetamine : because only stupid people think that if you love you have everything even when others hate you=P (just saying)
   
    Steph Dizzo : (smiley showing tongue)

I should note... (exercise)

Can i find some... but for me all the forms should be enjoyable, at least accepted, even if there's some exceptions, for example body is form but i am faithful, so accepted yes, and that's all.

Here's a form i enjoy :

(boots man)
(paper lamp)

I'm not fun because i don't enjoy the world of forms, i'm not light enough, is that possible to go back, or do others like me exist?

I see people seemingly happy, smiling, while explaining how to bake a cake and put a little fluff on it, how to decorate your christmas tree with home-made flashy labels and prints, how to get the look of a famous actor, actress, singer, tv personality, by using a whatever set of beauty products, and those people look happy to share that, to do that even for themselves.

I'm so far away, there's no way i belong there.

Though there must be a community and a love for me somewhere, people resonating with me.

Scarcity fading (useless title but i like the sound of it)

What's with me
the bitter one
the loner
i get sentimental
when i see the shape of a poetic heart
in a puddle of sky water
brightened by the streetlights
cut in a hollow to the black tarmac
in the middle of a silent and common street
of a common residential neighborhood
graffitis on the walls
and neglected gardens
on a fuzzy night

why am i here?
why am i the only one here!

and i start musing
divagating
that there's someone walking with me
a girl
that sweet girl
why would she be here
in that desolated place with me
and maybe that's how my musing is revealed
flawed

i would bend over
kneel
say how to look at it
"you see that mock heart twinkling on the road"
and i want to reach for the lips
kiss
there
anywhere
for a strange-shaped greasy puddle
on an alley of a dirty town

in the dark
in the loneliness
of my dreams



(why would someone choose scarcity
effort
and simple joy
over comfort
luxury [that i always confuse with lust]
and a life of carelessness
because i do
and i thrive in this
in my imagination)

walking alone at night is just a significative part of my life

This place is just a joke, let's laugh together.

All humans together.

For me this is not only true for writing, but also for any way to live, nothing should be forced, nothing!, and the very foundations of human societies is set on pretense, lies, and secrets, we could moan, but  i prefer to laugh at it, and go my own way, and find other people going their own way and laughing at the futile of this place, laugh with me.

With which one do you want to try.

I take some steps out of the group toward her :

"Hello! I'd like to know about you."

She diverts my gaze, and take a glance at the three others above my shoulder, shaken, speechless.

I continue :

"Oh it's the youngest smart-looking one you incline to, the mysterious rough type".
"But too bad he's already got a Dulcinea, but these two here are free".

(They look like dressed vegetables)

She begins to wiggle and i interpret it :

"Oh don't pick by the look, do you think we would be talking to you if we had choosen by the look".

__

That's why guys like me never walk in the light.
At a direct, clear question most people want to escape, even though facing no danger except to assume their own opinions, then they hang on to the stereotype of cute and desirable (anihilating their own selves to the dictated norms), the categorization is deeply ingrained in unconscious persons.
At the great loss of the most interesting kind, the Outcasts.

"Satan, are they dumb!"
Give them their own medicine and laugh at your own stupidity.

Ce que j'écris n'a aucun attrait si l'on ne désire pas connaître qui l'écris, ce n'est pas du divertissement, c'est l'entièreté, l'unicité, la nudité d'un homme comme il y en a trop, et si vous n'êtes pas curieux de la glaise originelle, et des rouages imbriqués qui forment ce pantin, mais avec sa fluidité de vie, sa propre puissance à aimer, alors détournez les yeux et gonflez vous d’orgueil dans vos belles tuniques nacrées, mais s'il vous plaît ravalez vos vipères, il y a un rêve souillé et putride pour chacun.

What i write has no appeal when one doesn't want to know who writes it, this is not entertainment, this is the wholeness, the unicity, the nudity of a man like there are too many, and if you aren't curious of the original clay, and the interlocked machinery who makes that puppet, but with his fluidity of life, his own power to love, so turn away your eyes and swell yourself with pride in your pretty pearly tunics, but please swallow back your vipers, there is a soiled and putrid dream for everyone.

Three worlds

Isn't it interesting when the glass perspires
the wires are swings for the bats
and black on dark the stingy trees call

you know it will stick,
you know it will be cold and prickly
dangling branches hiting your head
and moss tripping your feet

it's the discomfort you want by a switch in your mind

and out of the clamor
in that sweaty egg,
breaking the wet air
you think of your love,

no one knows
you betray them as a dead load
pulling you out of the joy of the forest
and into the doom of the stars

It rains tonight,
tonight, tonight it's not,
it's The night,
a bottomless pit,
a fur of vaporous stench,
a stinging haze,
the streetlights and the dripping grey walls
drown          ......
the rays of harmony are shattered,
there's blisters on the sidewalks,
a wound inside,
and it's pouring,
it's pouring, so stride, run,
escape the depressed
search for cuddles,
huddle yourself in the pig-like warm flesh,
leave to me the dark and the loathed to handle,
that goo of spongy rot is suave,
striped with veins,
it splashes on the ominous tar,
where are you fine? where?
are you,
it's like a folk song to me,
while you sing indoor,
i take my umbrella and drag my poor face against the grit,
unwelcomed as i am
i make a pair with the destitute weather,
soaked blackness,
the reverberation is shunned in an unmerited oblivion,
from where i snap out as a stick silhouette,
undeserving
un - un - un
the reticent night is my shelter.




and fuck the poetic pace, fuck Poetry
and what is arguably beautiful.




(pardon me, allow me to get defensive when i'm in the comfort of strangeness)

If i have to recollect one segment, from that mess of dense and blurry images, it is that black maid, wearing the formal old fashioned outfit, black and white with heavy undulating stripes of fabric sewed on the chest, she could have been sixty years old, or whatever, with round and reassuring cheeks, a small and jovial head, quite diformed like a potato, stuck on a fragile neck, showing a weak complexion and real affliction for the misery when it strikes, her hair dragged backwards and held by a crown made of the same white fabric, she watches sideways, a close up on her profile, and she had the most striking voice for me, soft, filled with kindness and innocence, the naivety and uneducation of a little girl, and that contrast so peculiar made me feel a brief well-being as i noticed for myself the beautiful in it.

Completeness ("Trolösa" resolution)

"Now you know, my views, through all those clues i shared, continuously, with that passion that is mine, maybe it can help you to find your way, if i must be out of the picture, plainly tell me, i don't want my feelings to be betrayed, mocked, trampled, i'll disappear proudly like a defeated war chief, with the honor to have gone all the way, the farthest i could in my emotional openness."

And they skip the conflict, and death, with at first a little pinch to the heart but then the delights of a new begining to the matching presence. And one day they'll realize it has always be there inside them, that respectful love they have succumbed and harmed for, and that there's no need to be scared, no need for desire or expectations, no need to search, to be at peace with the world, and the one you choose.

Lesson, (with a life event)

Saturday morning, in a car with my brother, the radio is on, no talk, a song plays, then :

"I think it's an utterly idiotic song, nothing's good in this, it's just crap." he says peremptorily.

I stay silent, and i think :

(Why judging, why focusing on the negative, just turn off the radio if the song is really so unbearable, why not instead share me something like :

"Oh the other day i listened to a new song i liked a lot, let me tell you!...."

I didn't nourrish that negativity by adding to the criticism, i chose to stay conscious, to keep my inner smile, humans are so inclined to position themselves by criticizing while it's entirely unnecessary and that it hurts the bond we could weave between us all, and that process is so obvious in my own family, i want to overcome it and be a vector of a new consciousness, through positivity and acceptance, [no one's attacking you, so don't be defensive, and who you are is not in the forms, body, car, tv, song, individuals, or thoughts forms, nationality, beliefs, interests, father, mother, so don't feel offended, let people have their own opinions, and know your own, then see the world with care and acceptance.])

--------

(It's true too that i enjoy irony, dark and subversive humor, based on vehement observations and criticisms of this world, but i think that can be done without harm, without resentment, with the will to share and to connect with others, and with the consciousness that it's only jokes, and so it's not serious, just made to have fun, for example people can make cheerful jokes on rock music [which i'm fond of], but if it's said with openness and that obvious harmless tone, and also because i'm conscious and i don't identify to rock music [which is just a hobbie and not who i am], then i can take it and share a laugh about it with the fellow prankster)

perversion

What if i decide i want to love, and rest on that red wooden bridge all day and night myself, like hypnotized, a good for nothing, i can have perverted visions, the most intimate, the most rash, impetuous, wild, obscene, all is good, all is authorized, i can fantasize, i want to fantasize, i want to try that mutual trust in intimacy, and let myself try, i want to learn the flesh too, i need support, i need affection, raw affection, a pinch, a slap, a rub, a squeeze, and shake all that, and dive in chaos, push you on the wall in that dark alley, hold your wrist, press your waist, there's a light coming from an open window above us, and caress, under the fabric, down, up, along the lines, the curves, the dents, the damaged, the bizarre, the wet, give me your mouth, your lips, your tongue, your teeth, play with, salivate, share it, lick, savor it, open your legs, feel the cold granularity of the bricks on your back, and my warm, sweaty body touching you, cornering you, stronger, plain physical, a focalization on that present desire, i want it, i want it, i want you, i can dream and just a kiss, a dirty kiss, passionate, real, because there's nothing else to feel right now just that possesing desire of the nasty white skin.

(something we decide to want, but that is not vital, that is not a lack)

Acceptation, Pleasure, Enthusiasm

Hobbies are superficial (not used pejoratively), and the craving for knowledge is also a hobbie, most of what we do in our lives is only to pass the time, a job is a passtime, and sex is too, all this has no importance, the only valid way to live is to personally enjoy what we decide to do, we could decide to do nothing, to relax on a pretty wooden bridge, painted crimson, our elbows set on the parapet holding our head, and watch with lazy eyes at the ripples of the stream flowing underneath all day, and that will still be acceptable, important and enjoyable if for us it is, for those who want happiness and well being, don't search it in those passtimes, those many experiences, don't catch the value you give to yourself by comparing and identifying, someone who possesses all the knowledge of the world in his brain is finally not better than you, and not happier if he doesn't let himself feel happy, someone who can meddle with all the persons on earth and seduce all the girls and boys has no more right to be, and to be happy, than that person dawdling on that bridge, all those forms, and thoughts forms, that you can consume, identify with and lose yourself in, alluring objects or charming people, are inconsistant and volatile, forms don't last, so it's only passtimes, there is nothing to lose and no important things to gain, the only important behavior is to feel that you can be well,  you can enjoy, you can love, you can respect, you can just be yourself and that's perfectly ok, that's all there is to know.
I read somewhere there's three modes to live by and reach that awakened and happy life :
Acceptation, Pleasure, and Enthusiasm. Period.

(It's good to write, because it's all i can do sometimes, and keeping in what exerts and longs to be told only brings tension inside, it feels good to express to people, to this page, to you, and you, and us, to say what i want, what i feel, and to stimulate my mind, when no one and no thing is reachable there, at once, by any means, any moves, any actions, but only personal and very intimate words.)