Traditions need to be kept alive

Published in: on April 2, 2010 at 2:47 am  Leave a Comment  

Brighton, UK

Brighton is shining under a icy blanket of snow.
It’s nice, here. I love the city – very ‘human’ – and our neighborhood. Nice little shops around make our staying here just lovely. And the flat is just amazing!
I would say that it does not even look like England. Scary! 😉

Published in: on January 8, 2010 at 1:52 am  Leave a Comment  

Back home

How many times I run into these roads with bicycles, and by foot, with the rush of whom is always late over the life?
And here I am, walking on them once again, trying to get home fast, as when I was child, but now slowing down, realizing that this is not my home anymore, and that this panorama and scenario are at my view once again, but not forever.

Published in: on December 23, 2009 at 3:03 am  Leave a Comment  

Getting old… It’s better starting to write a memoir…

Well, today I suddenly realized I’m getting 32 in exactly one month (yeah, thanks for the anticipated happy birthday, I really appreciate that…) I mean, I’m getting old, man.

When I was a child – that actually is until few years ago – I was seeing those guys, those thirty, thirty five y.o. guys, as someone I was never going to be. You know, married, with little buns on their tummies (literally buns, come on, those flaccid rolls of fat, not big enough to be called properly “huge belly” but still there, guiltily marking LOTS of nights drinking spirits and eating fries), going around with eager eyes on skinny teens and suddenly sit down, exhausted, ordering a beer and a session of free lamentations. It’s hard to be a bar-tender, in those cases.

So – I was saying – I was thinking back then that I was not going to be like that, ever. That I was going to have a wonderful and endless youth, keep making mistakes, learning new things, and having lots of fun.

I don’t know if that was a way to postpone the fun I could have back then. Probably it was, if I have to admit. You know, when you locate your happiness in a far future, when things are finally going to be fine, settled, decided.

Therefore, here I am, almost 32, married, with horrible buns too, looking at skinny teens and ordering exhausted beers. (Half of the description is not true, actually. Yes, I am 32 and married, but I’m very skinny and I prefer wine. And, about the skinny teens, I radically change my mind, man: a sack of bone is definitely NOT sexy).

I mean, there is no point in this post: I’m not feeling bad, or nostalgic of the past Golden Age. For me, actually, the Golden Age is right now, and I’ve never been so happy as I am now. BUT there is something did not change from the time I was serving beers in a bar: I still have the tendency to locate happiness far away, in a sort of utopian and “ucronian” place and time where things are going to be perfect. As when I’ll be retired, more or less.

I always forget how boring perfection is.

Published in: on December 13, 2009 at 11:30 am  Leave a Comment  
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