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NAPLES TO DIE (140): secular thought.

by: "Five moral writings: when he enters the other," by Umberto Eco. ed.passaggi Bompiani.

"(...) And I come to the second story. I was still a young Catholic sixteen, and I happened to engage in a verbal duel with an older acquaintance known as "communist" in the sense that this term had in the terrible year fifty. And since I tease, I had asked the crucial question: how could he that believeth not, make sense of the senseless thing that otherwise would have been his own death? And he replied: "Asking the funeral before you die civil . So I'm not there anymore, but I left an example to others. "I believe that you [Cardinal Carlo Maria Martini] can see profound faith in the continuity of life, the absolute sense of duty that inspired that answer. And it's the way it has pushed many non-believers to die under torture in order not to betray friends, others to be to heal the plague plague. It 'also sometimes the only thing that drives a philosopher to philosopher, a writer to write, leave a message in a bottle, because somehow what they believed, or that there seemed nice, believed, or appears to be looking at those to come.
It 'really this feeling so strong as to justify ethics as determined and inflexible, so firmly established as one of those who believe in morality revealed in the survival of the soul, in press and punishment? I tried to base the principles of secular ethics on a natural (and, as such, even for you the result of a divine plan) which our physicality and the idea that we know instinctively that we have a soul (or something which makes it function) only by virtue of the presence of others. Where it appears that what I have defined as "secular ethics" is basically a natural ethics, which even ignores the believer. The natural instinct, led to correct maturation and self-awareness, is a foundation that contains sufficient safeguards? Of course we think it's not enough incentive to virtue, "so" can not say who believes "no one will know that I'm secretly doing evil." [Or distorting for me to perform]
But mind you, whoever does not believe that no one believes him, and then look down that well-known for this - there is not anyone who can forgive. If people know they have done evil, [and there was no remedy instead. The same is true for the believers] will be without limits his loneliness, despair and death. Attempt rather than the believer, the washing of public confession, ask forgiveness of others. This we know, from deep within its fibers, and therefore knows in advance which must forgive others. How else could one explain that the remorse is a feeling experienced by non-believers ?..."


I believer, I posted, not surprisingly, this piece of Umberto Eco wrote a letter to Cardinal Martini, in response to a question that they had given him.
One can not but admire the level of ethics espoused by Eco, the true lesson of intellectual honesty to our own fundamentalists, many Catholic writers.
The additions in square brackets are mine.

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Naples DIES (139): Difficulty

Branko led me to the University of Zagreb, a Croatian-Italian language course, but I am going very slowly. The next step, a bit 'crazy because of the forced choice of certain words can explain my difficulties. In fact, here sometimes the vowels seem waste of time. Try to pronounce you, if you can.
Branko and I communicate in English, and since we both speak very badly, we can understand each other perfectly.
what you read, in substance, and the avoidance of doubt, it might actually be autobiographical.

Branko, do not go so brz (fast) with this boat, I'm getting a grc (colic) in the stomach. Let's enjoy this rather srp (crescent) moon.
now on that crv (worm) that made you boil krv (blood) I put on a KRST (cross) after having made him drink a srk \u200b\u200b(sip) from the vrc (chamber pot).
I now point the prst (finger) to rt the (head) Krk (island name). Take me, hold me first but because I feel very krt (fragile).

See? Something to climb Everest! But only for the pronunciation. Moreover I have no right to complain! But with all these demons of hell that are being introduced in the collective, calling into question the famous phrase by Baudelaire sull'astuzia of Satan to convince us that the devil does not exist (is in dozens of blogs. Do a search if you're interested. ), and forgetting that the sublime poet was also a great smoker of opium! by Neapolitan good, touch wood for good luck because you never know where it can reach the human wickedness.

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Naples DIES (138): Books

from "The Spirit of Perfection by George Roditi. Ed. Portico New Bompiani


" An abstract idea was in a sense likely to have been conceived before, not just made it into the public domain and its author, should say: its inventor - it maintains against him only a right of way. But if the expression of an idea the writer has been present, if you recognize it, and you can hear his voice, he has sent the text to its infinite complexity of living organisms and with it an equally highly unlikely. These notions are similar to that of originality, in which some have placed a constitutive literature - what the Russian formalists called literaturnost. It seems to me that they place greater emphasis on whether a text is close to this literaturnost or away from it. Originality will never reach the desired height of the improbable, since each transaction deliberately relatively simple, it will not be unique, impossible to reconstruct a pastiche. E 'not only art in which there is the uniqueness of a living being. In this sense, the genie is life.
Such an interpretation of what the literature reveals a risk of completeness. Perfecting a text according to the classical style, correcting through deletions to make it smooth, naked, concise, and sacrificing its beauty even those deemed unnecessary, it will not less personal, less complex, less likely?

(George Roditi was literary editor of the French publisher Plon).

I deliberately chose to post the opinion of a man of culture who has spent many years selecting books to be published for the great French publisher for whom he worked.
With these few lines sent to hell a number of contemporary writers and their writing schools.
This post is dedicated to those who, despite knowing how to write, is not ready to become a media whore, enslaved to various ideologies and consumerism editorial.

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Naples DIES (137): Flaiano, mon amour: Books

by: "Works - Writings hangover" by Ennio Flaiano. ed.Classici Bompiani.


Inattention is the most popular way to read a book, but most of the books today are not only read but written with inattention. Or with an attention that is a party to the author-reader. It reads like smoking, to keep busy hands and eyes. Books already beginning to be abandoned on the seats of trains. Were read out of habit, boredom, abhors a vacuum or for themselves. Among the vices, reading, Larbaud as Valery said, is the vice unpunished, but in some cases stop reading as smoking can prevent serious consequences.
You can also read a book for suspicion and envy. In this case the book is too appealing, we think that we could even write us and earn fame and money. You just need to think about it. These are books that achieve great success, the "best sellers". Usually hit a false problem, a situation of fashion, a point of interest and relevance. You do read, anxiously, angrily, and then to continue to doubt it, but also to discover the secret of their pleasantness. After a couple of years, many of these books, when one finds them on the shelves, want to throw them away. The fact is that they are now too bad outside, have not been able to age well. Rather they are proof that the beauty of a book as an object can not be separated from its content. There is not more outrage of a book bound luxuriously stupid.
The third way to read a book is the easiest, but it is of great players. It is purchased with age, experience, or is a gift that you find in themselves, as boys, with the revelation of the first readings. It is never to leave "that" book, to leave him and take it back, to "go to bed." But since this way is suggested only by the great authors, over time it is surrounded only from good books. And it gets nasty, you get to understand a new book to open the page, to get rid of immediately. And if the book convincing, to leave for some time, always at hand on the table or bedside table, as its very sight brings a real pleasure, nor feared to finish it soon: The purpose of these books and in fact to be read back, that he will resume when everything goes wrong, when it seems that the truth can not be confirmed by what happens around us, but from what is in the pages of a book.
All the great books have been read and continue to be read that way. It 's more accurate to say that it is not law, but clothes, to hear him. Making it the account, each is that its come down to a hundred, largheggiando. And many of them have waited years and years before being resumed in a day of special existential disgust. But is their strength.

[Corriere della Sera, 27.1.1972]

For those who have a passion for books is difficult to disagree with Flaiano, especially now that publishing has applied the criteria of "disposable" also many necklaces.
Personally, I always treated my books as lovers. I've stayed together for years, waking in the night, turning on the light and taking a hand. Someone I was even jealous, and perhaps with good reason.

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Naples DIES (136): Poets of the road

NARCISO WEB Viola d'amore


Nothing sure yet

your servants to send

pimps

my figure in your hands and cry Fuck



is your favorite vice

fuck at night

day you regret your

cry and call it martyrdom

delirium

women dying

never recognized

consumed Web

unsold remnant

do you feed the computer

promise paradise

just drag the hell



with your narcissus

Nothing sure yet

I accept the madness to stay together



... and I'm already going on.

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Naples DIES (135) : Errebi

by: "The curve of the angle" by Maria Rosaria Ribolla (unpublished novel. Courtesy of the author).

"Put a poodle rings rings, a small Riace niro niro, Eracles Mabuse a miniature that has taken a bath nell'allume. Put a playful destiny that decided to put the trinket on the journey of a divorced wife and in need of escort for a night out, just not to be kidnapped by some as a gateway drug. This small gem of perfection, which specializes in women separate, well-trained in all neuroses, Angela had known to a show one night that he did not want to talk, and she sat on a step.
"You live in Naples?"
"Yes."
"Blessed are you, you know where I live?", And made the name of a village in the hinterland.
"You live in that way?"
She told him.
"You make me feel very inferior."
"To me it seems a bit 'funny'.
"Once we lived in town, we had a house in the center," he sighed, "I still dream every night. In the same way we had a sporting goods store and we would fare well. Then one fateful day my brother decided to take to bed the girl who lived in the building opposite, and then began our tragedy because we lost peace. The girl's mother, you know how these mothers are Neapolitan, came to us under the noise gate and into the warehouse, by turning the entire neighborhood. Screams, scenes and beatings, there were complaints and denunciations. Dad, depressed, afraid she would also quit. He was a heart attack, in short, hell, we could not work any more. And we were forced to liquidate the house and shop and move to a rustic country house. "
" And all this for having sex with your brother? "
" Exactly. "Errebi (robbabbona) had long looked at his feet first to leave.
At the time Angela was so down that he, Errebi was just a little man, who arrived at the right time, because presented the many, many ex-ex, people who had finished with something, waiting for a success in a panariello that sooner or later would be dropped from the sky. And being an ex-ex too, immediately tried to match, but it was difficult.
And when they complained to him:
In your opinion, why have it with me? It seems that every night should end in a fight. "
"We have with you because you are un'abusiva," explained the trinket and still you have to endure, because otherwise remain alone. " And the meticulously watched his feet. Those
its straletti the battutelle bad as hitting the pins, making it often feel like a wretch. But there were nights when he knew Errebi make her laugh to tears, with his bad humor and intelligent.
Errebi dreams of women very high, with shoes number forty, socially established, that the rapiscano in the palm of a hand to bring it on up to those heights and the size prevents him from reaching.
When Angela had confessed her fear of being blown up to the smell of gasoline in the car.
John was missing more than ever, because he had always solved all the problems of maintenance. And one morning when the sink faucet no longer blocks the water, she had felt the world falling apart.
Okay, transfinite numbers of Cantor, Goedel's theorem, the relativity of Einstein, of the Ulysse Joyce and the Tao-teh-ching, a form of money but she did not know to fill, and one day had been appalled at the post office, with all that line of people behind who brought her quickly.
"Errebi, I want to help?"
Down in the garage had thrown upside down straps, flaps and caps, and then, one that closes the tank to wash the windows, "but because he had unscrewed that idiot?, Had gotten out of hand going to hide in a damn slot and unattainable, an event not foreseen by the designers of the car.
And then she had turned like a wild animal which had been given a hammer blow on the tail, because John did not it would ever get out of hand, the cap, and this species of dwarf is a moron, an idiot, and now how it works?
"Let's try that of Coca Cola."
s'avvitava But obviously not, nor is that of cleansing milk, or around the hole they stuck the tape.
"You're a beast, an incompetent. And now you do not go, I do not leave until they have remedied."
"We can not become a stopper." And realizing what he had said, his hand slipped off the hood and began to stare scocciatissimo.
"There you go, you understand?" I want my cap! "
"And if that makes driving without a cap?"
"As it does, how dare you?" I want my cap, you understand? "Now I go out and buy it again."
"But on Saturday afternoon's Auto Components are closed.
"I do not care. I want my cap. "
Petrol, mechanics, tire shops, all looked amazed that viper that Ercolino scrambled for a cap.
" Now we turn the whole city until they find him, you understand? And you do not leave me in trouble, it is clear? Because I do not want to be uncapped.
Errebi But then going up to a cart, had bought all the flowers and put them in the machine blurted
"enough for this crap cap?" And she
, hysterical, down to sob and beg him to forgive, to forgive a friend, he said, knowing that he would, yes, forgiven, but only until the next poison dart. And 'I'm tirammolla of life is just energy that we download to anyone who happens upon below, must all be hysterical women separated, was not a specialist, he, in dopodrammi family?, And maybe she would also have needed to make love but we could do if he could not find a plug right? was still hooked to Giovammi all, the damned, though not certain, could be considered a top athlete's sex, but she still believed that there was a feeling, and he still loved her, that fucking crazy, but how do I love a man who despises?
"Listen," said the toy that had regained self-confidence and had started driving the car "you could tell me what number of shoes ports? "

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Naples DIES (134): Rhyme

A rooster with only seven hens

has red wattles of fake passion

all the rubs and seduce with song

always the same for all seven

seven chicks that he did not see

see the hen that is hatching

he is unable to turn it

put aside the fate hatching

One cock and seven hens

tired that when they go to sleep with the sun

he returned to the valley

goes by the hen that wants to cover

while riding the neck pick

time when you can not see dark

has been done inside the chicken coop.

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Naples DIES (133): The Neapolitan? Sexiest: Partners only think about shopping - Corriere del Mezzogiorno Campania Naples

The Neapolitan? Sexiest: Partners only think about shopping - Corriere del Mezzogiorno Campania
I am very pleased at this distinction between "more sexy". But otherwise, I'm sorry, I'm not at all agree. I mortify the need of having to expose my ass from outside, decked with lace to awaken a man I hibernated. I am a man so stupid and so conditional, I do not know what to do. Just as I do not know what to do with one that makes me shopping at the supermarket, at the expense of his only desire that should awaken to the warmth of my own, without garters with rose. I demand a lot? Well yes. Why? Conscience because I know how to give back even more, even their lives, if necessary, the damnation-so to speak-if I meet the right man does not fade under the sheets. But it is no exchange of love utility supermarket. And that women should keep in mind, at the risk of breaking the back of hard work, only to be amply rewarded in bed, if you do not want to do their regressed a man, a loner in search of the most weird gratification. Keep it warm, and love, we must. And if there is, the better life away from our selfish, leaving him free to make her look legitimate. Point.

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DIES (132): Fantavita.

I love the wit, together with satire, irony and humor that have become a cauldron of free vulgarity. So you have to go fishing in the past, to find these values \u200b\u200bbecome moribund. And I dusted off an old book, a gift from my brother, from which I gathered that passage that seems taken from a humorous science fiction story, and left me in a tender longing for what you do not have time to learn.



by: "Flowers I" by Gianna Preda, ed. Sperling & Kupfer



"The first insights into the many mysteries of sex when I was the confessor of the college gave me some insistent and detailed questions, which seemed a real and proper interrogation, my thoughts about my actions and also use any of my hands, I did, you want my body to that of some friend. I, in fact, I felt the need, because in that secret court could not lie, to confess that kiss with treason, although he had given me a bit 'of sick. Unfortunately I could not explain well my revulsion, so much so that the confessor was convinced that I must have drawn from that experience sudden and unpredictable, some pleasure. So from behind the thick grateful I came bursts of harsh warnings against adultery and against the temptations of the flesh.

Speaking of meat, then I was committed to addressing another mystery: that of chicken meat. The bird, in fact, was part of the feast days of food, along with sweets tell, but very good. Except that, in all the festive meal, every schoolgirl and we were more than fifty, reaching to the "bite of the priest" never happen to someone that a thigh, breast or half a hip. For us, the fried chicken we ate, were strange creatures all over her ass, even if it was considered a delicacy by the priests, for obscure reasons. However, on balance, I concluded that all parties objectively better than those chickens were gobbled up secretly by the nuns and priests, but when I became a spokesman of the protests of my companions, now nauseate so many ass chicken, the menu was changed parties promptly and, indeed, to no longer meets the "bite of the priest."

This, then, then my problem was the meat, but I could not convince the confessor of my indifference to adultery, which seemed to me even foolish when I realized, from his specific questions, as I have sinned with the hands or mouth.

Ignorance about sexual riddles, however, did not limit our imagination and our taste for life, even in captivity. We were innocent, curious, happy, angry and naive. Many of us, and I was among them, did not even know what they were menstruating or "cycle". For three of us, however, this ignorance turned into tragedy in the morning when I, Lucia and Rosa Massani pieces we woke up in a sea of \u200b\u200bblood. I was convinced that, at night, some evil elf I had slaughtered, and react to that change with many physiological screaming that the sisters sent for my parents. My father, who was modest, I looked at him. It was in the throes of a deep unease as if he were ashamed of me or for me. My mother took the bull by the horns and strained voice said to me

"It's nothing. It means that you become a woman and you can now give birth to children."

I fell into a confusion of ideas and drew even more dense than the brief information conjecture so tangled in that summer, during the holidays in Riccione, where a red-haired boy, under the pretext of teaching me how to swim, hugged me and kissed me wildly into the water, I thought of being pregnant. "

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Naples DIES (131): Love Letters (2)

This time, she writes that Anais Miller. Often when we are going to fall in love, we feel a great need to describe, so our expectations are not disappointed. What then happens very often. It 's like a say, look what I am. I like this and I need this. But the other, if what you ask is not part of his experience, will always fireflies for lanterns. The great deceiver whose purpose is solely to reduce the other to prey, know how grant the request. But he does not fall into the seduction of which he writes Baudrillard, whose work and whose effect is independent of the will and intentions of those called into question.

Anais Nin describes in this letter, then he contradicts himself, then concludes with the start disguising, not to jeopardize the love that is emerging, and its unknowns.



... A man who is dominated by a man who does not love, has a terrible animal vitality, a force that wins. He wins, people will not submit, but he never likes nor understands. And 'nothing but a force and is full of its own force. If never loves, loves himself as a force, so that, once again, love his kind of strength, not the other, which is an infiltration. Look carefully at the Conqueror, says the man or woman who dominate others is not a person he loves. He who loves is the one who is dominated. He who loves me can not control myself and I, being a woman, seeking domination.


But now it is gone. I see this as an impersonal force, a strong animal, who no longer has power over me. By now even hatred. I hate the lack of insight that distinguishes!

And sometimes, then, you know, that power with which one is born is not in accord with their desires, is stranger to myself. Sometimes I suspect that Alan [one of which was being infatuated before he met Miller] was bothered by the effects of its strength. Flatters his vanity to be loved, of course, but in reality he does not need to be loved because it is loved in turn has to love, and that he can not do it. Women make the mistake of loving him because they are dominated. Within himself that Alan prefers to oppose resistance , on its own ground, almost an indifference to love you and I understand very well, with a certain hardness. He hates the way women melt in his presence, yes, I hate ...


I do not know what to make of all this, because such a "dryness" is very remote from your character. Though I believe that you are able to destroy a woman, but for other reasons. "

....................... .................................................. .......................................

In fact, these two could not seducing each other, because, as a result of contingent factors and unpredictable, their history was determined by seduction itself, therefore, as Baudrillard argues, beyond their individual will. This is what we often call destiny.

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Naples DIES (130): Love Letters (1)

him, an American a little 'rustic, with an extraordinary talent as a writer. She also writes her good, I love writing, and with a great capacity for love.
Henry Miller and Anais Nin.
An intense love, capricious, durable, made of lust and friendship.
This is an excerpt from a letter he wrote to Henry, taken from "History of a passion," their letters published by Bompiani.

"... I'm very sorry to have failed you, yesterday. But, I repeat, for me it's all confusing and mysterious. I came to you in good spirits, with the intention of holding you in his arms immediately and to love you enough to die. And then, as always happens - it is not a novelty! - I put my foot in your house, and I have the exact feeling of being a host, albeit a very privileged. It is not my home, and you're not my wife. You're there, the door opened, and I always see a princess who, for some secret whim, he condescended to make me the gift of his love. I feel like a nobody. I could be any X. Everything is a gift, and I feel in the grip of a feeling stupid, and I say to myself that here is wonderful and nothing here is real, it's all a dream. And if I say this is because, knowing that I deserve a little from life, I do not deserve anything from me. And even if I talk so much about myself and doing who knows what-you-bored, probably occurs because it attempts, with the words, to fit into the reality of all that you offer me standotene there, the doorway to greet me. You do not know that much time is that, again, for me. And then I become so human that it becomes sensitive. And so it happened yesterday ... my insensitivity was delicate. I hunger for you. I wanted to tear off her clothes when I did restore the hammock, I wanted to eat you. But I stand there in front of you and chat ... But what I really wanted was to lie on the grass and lose myself with you. Yes, I continue to be naive and clumsy ... "

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Naples DIES (129): The future

by:" A Brief History of the Future "by Jacques Attali, now released also in the Italian publisher Fazi.



Some books should learn to awkward syrup, if we have children and grandchildren, and especially if our neighbors opposed to the point calls for end soon.


250,000 French have already done.


This book, hard to digest, written by a man who belonged to a now left adrift, Director of PlaNet Finance, an NGO for the promotion of microfinance in developing countries has also supported projects Nobel Prize winner Muhammad Yunus, provides the history of our near future, anything but cheerful, but ends with a vision iperdemocratica planet, after a series of unavoidable conflict. And not only. The author, intellectual honesty, also puts into question their own forecasts, which can only result from reflections on the present, taking into account just a few possible unpredictable factor, which provides good examples. For example: "... if in Sarajevo in June 1914, a murderess had missed its target, the First World War would break out in any case not in the same way. When in 1941 Hitler had not invaded Russia, could, like General Franco in power and die in his bed. If Japan that year, The Union had attacked the Soviet rather than the United States, they probably would not enter in war and would not have liberated Europe, as a result they never released neither Spain nor Poland.


So, perhaps, France, Italy and the rest of Europe would have remained under the yoke of Hitler at least until the end of the seventies ... "


not a book that makes certain dream because I try to empower the reader, but leaves a door open, that we need not to succumb under the shafts of the prophets of the irreversible who hate humanity, often, unfortunately, in the name of God

There's also an afterword on Italy, its history, and what he should do to recover.

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Naples DIES (128): I will do



I will do here in my home in the universe



blackness of silence that cleanses



In my actions I'll

and breath

brown in autumn

advances in the seed of the rose tumescent

already singing in the garden

In the two hawks flew

you do with them



blue one afternoon and ecstasy was the name of the dance

In the crystal that beats you

I

when the hand that contains

is contained in your hand

and contains all

me dispel

with me doubt: Only Love



and Gloria

exist.

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Naples DIES (127): Revelation cocaine

In the beginning was the drug

and the drug was with the man

and drugs was the man.

.............................................. .................................................. .................................................. ....................

from: "A river of cocaine" by Furio Ravera, ed. BUR

"(...) The cocaine flows into an area of \u200b\u200binadequate people. This inadequacy is not about intelligence, while important, is only part of the mental life of people but the way in which a person can get a sense of self, others and the emotions he experiences on various occasions of life .

"(...) Everything is mixed together in the belief that what you want will be achieved only by the very fact of it you want. We are facing a simplification or an omnipotent fantasy, we are faced with a mode of operation is left in the folds of the personality and that the drug has reenergized and invigorated. It 's like being in front of the resuscitation of a fossil, an organism belonging to prehistoric era. This animal "mythological" a child is melted and mixed with a mother who has done so at all, except to its growth as an individual.

"(...) A common concerns about cocaine, its effect on sexual pleasure. There is no doubt that the excitement, the euphoria and disinhibition, which makes it conducive to sexual activity and make it more intense pleasure, but this effect is short lived because after repeated use of cocaine is a reduction of the desire and the same is used for pleasure At the same time more difficult to get ... there is a search-type situations characterized by strong sexual transgression as if they were freed of the instincts that they slept in the darkness of consciousness ... cocaine is completed orgiastic situations and looking for a different sex ... Sexuality can take a stretch of obsessive, mind, that is populated with images Still it has been facing as you wish it never find satisfaction ... Sex is an area of \u200b\u200bvery significant because it includes experience many feelings, emotions and many many beliefs.

"(...) It is not possible to exclude a priori that a person who approaches the cocaine will not encounter the development of persecutory ideas and bursts of violence .... The sense of the sacred and the taboo, the feeling of inviolability against an object or of a person based on their ability to recognize a difference and the ability to respect it.
::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::: :::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::: ::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

I am always more convinced now, that this which is called "Satan" and its derivatives is engendered by drugs and not the other way, as some would have us believe.

Cocaine in this case, reduces those who assume a state with paranoid delusions of power and delusions of persecution alternating with states of deep depression and apocalyptic visions. The meninges burned by the drug are incapable of humor and hope.

If ever there was an anti-Christ, then, that this substance can not be cursed, the fruit of materialism, even of the spiritual decay that is doing the best minds of Western civilization, with no real political will is there objects. Unfortunately.

But rather than continue to cry about the world that is dying, let us remember the words of Heidegger: "The terrible has happened."

Well, if it's already happened, let's move, fuck the demons ripuliamoci a bit 'and roll up our sleeves.

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Naples DIES (126): My town

"I always thought that we should not be afraid of evil in the world, but of good is missing."
(Don Benzi)

Dedicated to a Christian-Christian



I tell him my citadel

your demons

songs that they love



of each garden

trampling the flowers

Tell him that my name has citadel



oxymoron and that a fire wall protecting the

the horrific nightmares

filth filthy



Tell him that he wanted to kill me that this is a cool fire



I look at the time that the fruit flies

d 'illusions

you call a play of dreams

prestige

so dirty and cruel

is so right, time clock



God Loving is the privilege of poets

not obsessed dividing

producer of evil and pain

Tell him that the poets

are fragile when they leave home and bring the joy



though a poet

not alter this dense world

and worried

Tell him that poets are means and means crazy angels



and have music that awakens

the man who is ready

but he only

and neither distance neither time

can destroy them.

Explain that this privilege is self-giving love





waste of flesh-hungry hands and empty



who can not believe

neither risk nor



say I love you, nor thanks. Tell



and stand in line and pray



and wait, and meanwhile heated



the warmth of my tears.

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Naples DIES (125): The Mother of God

by: "Seventy times" by Maria Rosaria Ribolla

traces the life of a woman who had gone down in history as the mother of God Stages human, real, everyday, in which each could easily identify. The announcement of motherhood, childbirth, the flight to protect her son, the proud display of its fruit, preserved lovingly in her arms. The bitterness of seeing him go, called by something that is beyond her.
And then the pain that the aging of a sudden, the agony of seeing him suffer, powerless to help him: being forced to come off from his body has to follow his destiny. Return to the newspaper, mutilated at its most alive, most loved. Fate of many, too many women. An unstoppable river of pain that never stops, that goes nowhere.
But there was another story behind those pictures, another mysterious story that no language, no representation, was able to report. Pure poetry that is given only to those who are ready to receive it, who does not oppose the strength of reasoning, or fanaticism.
was the story of the seduction of the woman, something that she herself had not been aware. That was what made her a Virgo, you, the most seductive of all. She who had seduced
Overwhelmed by God unpronounceable a mystery, had bowed to his strength, swept up in a vertigo that was beyond the human.
The most seductive, the most unconscious, the Virgin most of all, and the most elusive.
Men, hunters, mysteries, murder of uncertainty, had given the connotations that real witchcraft, to strip him of all his vagueness. And that mystery had made a sort of hyperreal cartoon.
evident throughout their fear that staging, that Virgin had imprisoned in a spell of convenience, because the real one was too fleeting, was lost in the enigma of seduction.
Even there was no appropriation is, like all the undue appropriation.
you now understand, dimly understood, the mysterious men who had tried to limit, that mystery out of time. It was just kept in suspense, the freedom of scoprirselo alone, his great charm, in its ambiguity value that transcended all his performances, this short history on earth, how much it had been grossly imposed by men.
Maybe the dark secret that was emerging perception of prayer, a sign of such high recognition in smarrircisi, enchanted by its fairy tale.

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Naples DIES (124) Seduction

by: "Seduction" by Jean Baudrillard, ed.Biblioteca Hats

The female is not only seduction, the challenge is also to be male sex, to assume a monopoly on sex and enjoyment, challenge to bring to the end and to exercise its hegemony morirne.Non unable to accept the fallocrazia now falls just below the tumbling thrust of this challenge, which continued to haunt her constantly throughout the history of our sexual culture. It 'may collapse at the same time also our whole approach to sexuality, costruitasi around the phallic function and the positive definition of sex. Any form positive fits well with the shape and living corresponding negative, but did not escape the challenge of the deadly form reversible. Each structure adapts and absorbs the inversion or subversion, but not the reversal of its terms. This form of seduction that is reversible.
(...) That 's what transpires in the game of seduction more mundane: I flinch, I'll enjoy, it's me that I will play and you subtract from your enjoyment. Mobile game, which is false to assume that sex is just strategy. Strategy shift, rather (if -ducere: take apart, to deviate from its path), confusion, misleading of the truth of sex: do not play and enjoy. There is in this kind of sovereignty of seduction, which is a passion and a game of the order of the sign, and long she is going to win, because it's a reversible and permanent order.
The prestige of seduction is more than the enjoyment of Christian consolation. They want us to believe that it is a natural end, and many go mad because they can not reach it. But love has nothing in common with a drive, if not in our culture model of libidinal-love is a challenge and a major challenge: the challenge to love each other in turn. Being seduced is to challenge each other to be (there is no argument more subtle than that in which a woman is accused of being incapable of being seduced). Perversion, in this respect, has another meaning: pretend to be seduced, without being so and being unable to be.
The law of attraction is the first of an uninterrupted ritual exchange, a game where the games upward of who seduces and is seduced by those who are never defined, as is incomprehensible that the line should refer to the victory of ' one and the defeat of the other. And there is no limit to this challenge: the next challenge to be seduced or even more to love than is loved, the death penalty. In contrast, the sex has a proximate end and trivial: the enjoyment, the form of immediate fulfillment of desire. (...) The
trompe-l'oeil takes a real dimension to space in many of her seduction.
Pornography, on the contrary, adds a dimension to the space of sex, makes it more real than reality-thus depriving it of seduction
.(...) The hyper-realism is not surrealism, is a vision that leads to a fierce fighter against the seduction of a force visibility. There will "be more." (...) Repression absolute giving you a bit 'too , you amputate at all. All that is
nascostoe still enjoys interdict will be dug up, returned to the word and the evidence. The real increases, the real ramp, one day the universe will be real, and when will the real universal is death.

The secret and the challenge
Ilsegreto. Quality
seductress initiation, something that can not esseredetto because it makes no sense, something is not said and that also circulates. So I know the secret of the other but do not say, and he knows that I know, but do not lift the veil: the intensity between the two is nothing but the secret of the secret. A complicity that has nothing to do with that information withheld. Besides, even if both partners wish to reveal the secret, they could not do it because there's nothing to say ... Everything that can be detected on the side of passing secret: it is no hidden meaning, is not the key something; circulates and passes through everything that can be said, as the seduction runs under the obscenity of word is the opposite of communication, yet it shares. He holds his power only to the price of not being told, just as the seduction work only for the fact that I have never known and never wanted.

challenge and seduction are infinitely close. Yet perhaps there is a difference, namely the fact that the challenge is to bring more land beneficial to you, as it will be for him, in view of the game to unlimited upside, the strategy (?) Of seduction, however, is to bring the other on the ground of your defeat, which will also be his. Calculated defeat, defeat untold: the next challenge to lasciarvisi fall. Seducing (...) means making fragile. Seducing means faint. We seduce with our weakness, and never with strong signs or powers. The power of seduction lies in the fact that it put into play in our weakness. We seduce with our death, our vulnerability, with the void that is upon us. The secret is knowing how to "treat" this death in the absence of vision, in the absence of gesture, in the absence of knowledge, lack of a sense
.(...) There is something impersonal in every process of seduction, as in every crime, something ritual, and sovrasensuale-sovrasoggettivo his victim as the seducer-is only the reflection of the unconscious. Exercise a form of ritual, in which subjects wear. The set took charge at the same time, the aesthetic form of a work of art and ritual form of a crime.

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Naples DIES (123): Minestrone philosophical

relativism, fundamentalism and integrating expressed

BenedettoXVI Since shortly after taking office on the papal throne has hurled against relativism, philosophers, politicians, people blog, and common people road led to a series of discussions for the most demagogic take an interest, but still rather confused, they have produced a varied stew. This
my modest blog has the subtitle: conspiracy points of view. It therefore seems appropriate to link this article by Umberto Eco that is intelligent clarify certain terms in too often talk nonsense. Suffice it to say that relativism in some misguided madmen have entered the New Age, Satanism, organ trafficking, heresy, cyberspace, scientific research, exploitation of prostitution, the baby ghost (see my post, archived here on this horrible topic reported in the blog of Beppe Grillo, but that has nothing to do with relativism), the group piled up, the secret service, black magic, and other amenities such, producing, precisely, a disgusting certamante soup that does not help those who are looking for God at all that, logically, even Benedict XVI would approve.
I think.

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Naples DIES (122): Happiness

by: "Citadel" by Antoine de Saint-Exupery, ed. Borla Classic Cap.XXX

"... The man wanted to get and scored. It has perhaps the happiness now? But the happiness was trying to get. Look at the plant that forms the flower. And 'maybe happy to have formed his flower? No, but it's done and wants nothing but death. For I know the desire. The thirst of the work. The taste of victory. Then the rest. But nobody lives in this rest because it is a nutrient . Do not confuse the end with the food. The faster that raced and won. But he could not live that his race won ... So why you fools on the object of desire. You say that what chase constantly moves away incessantly. And 'as if the tree is complain and say, "I formed my flower and here it becomes the seed and the seed becomes a tree and once the tree flower ..."..
... I tell you there is an amnesty that will save money to become divine. You want to be: you may not be in God that He will welcome you in his barn when you slowly become your actions and you will be shaped, as the man, as you see, is slow to emerge.
Thus men are empty because they believed that they have and get on the road and stopped to enjoy, as they say, of their property. I know well I, I who have so often fallen into the trap of creatures, as I thought I could easily get hold of that girl that was shaped in some district and surrounded by the perfection of foreign flavors. This is called love vertigo. I felt I was going to die if I had not been able to obtain it.
man ... And I suddenly, in front of her, I did not know what to do.
And I, alone in my terrible wilderness, watched her sleep, undressed.
Once taken, it no longer existed. But I realized my mistake. It was the race that interested me and I was mad as the guy who filled the jug of water and has locked in the closet because he liked the song of the fountains ...
But if I touch you, you'll build a temple. And you plant in the light. And your silence holds campaigns. And I love you more than you and me. And invent the songs to celebrate your empire. And your eyes, the world's eyes are closed. And I hold you in my arms, exhausted, like a city. You are but a step in my ascent to God

The pain of a just, I told you, is worth the pain of the world. And the love of only one, albeit a silly one, brings balance to the Milky Way and its stars. And I, I hold you in my arms as a U-turn of my ship. So this departure on the high seas: back fearful of love ...
Why I hate what is easy. Man is not really a man if he can not resist. Otherwise, humanity becomes a hive where God is not longer present, humanity without yeast. That's the miracle that I thought I saw in my prison. Stronger than you, me, of us all, my captors, my drawbridge and my ramparts. Here is the enigma that tormented me, the enigma of love, when I held the girl helpless submissive.

Cap.XXXI

... I know when a woman is like a fortress dismantled or like a ship without a course from the iron ring which can remove at will the rope to lead it where you want, but be a meraviglios with its internal laws of gravitation and its most majestic silence of the silence of stellar systems.
So was the night of the betrothal and sentenced to death. And that night I had the feeling of existence.

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Naples DIES (121): Small break

Since so do the so-called "intellectuals" when they write their "tycoon", today in a little time I send you my joy.
I'm waiting for a real company that comes here for lunch. It 's the first time I have to stretch around the table for stay comfortable. I made spaghetti with tomato Vesuvius thread that I always send by air Guglielmetti, Bosnian sausages with baked potatoes, fresh tomatoes with local oil, light and delicious, and greek basil, leaves that to mini, fragrant, and zucchini scapece finally seasoned with mint for a plant that gave me (because Hence the mint just use it to make us tea).
My half-breed is helping me, and it is very efficient. Now prepare the crepes to serve with slices of banana and orange marmalade prepared by the mother of Branko.
All seasoned with wine "nigger" vintage of the island of Brac.
We eat because we have to wait about three Katia coming from Zagreb.
What a nice break before heading to hell in Naples!

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Naples DIES (120): The fervor

by: "Citadel" by Antoine de Saint-Exupery, ed.Classici Borla.


"I will speak of the fervor as you pass over a lot of criticism. So the wife always scold you offer your love others. Because according to the man that is given to one is subtracted from another. E 'forgetfulness of God and the use of property that we have done so. Because in reality, what you give you do not decreases, in fact you increase your wealth to distribute. Similarly those who love all men in God, love much more than each man of those who do not like that one and simply extends his wretched accomplice to the field of person. So in a distant land who faces the dangers of weapons gives the woman he loved it without knowing it, because someone offers you that there is more than the one who gives the cradle night and day but does not exist.
economies do not, why not market what you save when it comes to movements of the heart. Giving means to bridge the abyss of your loneliness
When you give to those who know do not worry about the. Why will tell you: "The gift that does not deserve this." As if it were a commodity useful to your needs. Indeed, the one that you did not find any benefit in the gifts that you may ask, can serve you in the gifts that you offer, because through him you will serve God knows well that those who do not feel any pity for the ills of servidorame, but they may easily his life without hesitation and face one hundred days of travel between the stones only to treat the wound of the servant of their servants. We prove subject and abject flattery of the valet only a foretaste of what a gesture of gratitude, because he does not have enough to pay for tearing flesh from your eyes, however, through the depositary, you have given to God, and you who must worship no because he is worthy to receive.

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Naples DIES (119): Further on the garden.

In a small book, "A Grief Observed", ed. Adelphi, the Christian writer CS Lewis, a few days after the death of his wife he loved very much of a love strong and successful, note the great, and I would say inevitable, a crisis which enters into his relationship with God, while holding fast to their faith. I would say that indeed, precisely because of that firmness, initiates an attack very similar to the letters of lovers who feel rejected, in which they are themselves to ask questions and give answers, attack that will transform the blackness of his pain nell'albedo of sublimation, and then lead him towards the end of his days, the completeness of the whole ' Opera, predominantly Christian, which is union with God

"The terrible thing is that, in this respect, a perfectly good God instils no less afraid of a Cosmic Sadist. The more we are convinced that God makes us suffer only to heal, the less credible it seems to beg not to serve in some way evil. A cruel man he can be corrupt, you may tire of his infamous pastime, may have its own bracket mercy as an alcoholic has his braces sobriety. But instead we have to do with a surgeon who cares only our good. More will be good and conscientious, the more relentless in cutting ... What do they mean those who proclaim:-I am not afraid of God because I know that God is good? I've never been to a dentist? "

The danger of certain contemporary Christianity is made up of those who, by virtue of what they consider to be their faith, they point the proceedings and put the surgeons to do without the slightest knowledge of what can be good or evil to another. This sort of god-do-it-yourself, is rising like mushrooms in the name of Christianity all aberrations,
and is housed in a society that has lost faith whilst maintaining an unconscious need for punishment.

"And then one of them dies. And we see it as a love interrupted, like a dance stopped half turnaround, or a flower with the corolla miserably torn: something cut off, and then stripped of its right form . But is this so? If, as I can not help but suspect, even the dead feel the pangs of separation (and this could be one of their purgatorial punishment), then for both lovers, and for all pairs of lovers, Without exception, the loss of others is a universal and integral part of the experience ... love is not a truncation of the process, but one of its phases, is the interruption of the dance, but the next figure. We are "taken out of us" from the beloved long as it is here. Then comes the tragic figure of the dance, in which we must learn to be equally taken out of us, even though the bodily presence is removed, we must learn to love you, and not to fall back on the love of our past, or our memories, or our pain or our pain relief, or love of our own love.

And that's what I call alchemy, even in a contingency overwhelmed by love, a war, a move inevitable, a bond Previous indissoluble and not necessarily by death.
It is because of my conviction that I was kicked, accused of heresy, and even expulsion from the place where the badly one of these wolves in sheep's clothing of God, throw their curses and their sentences .
Without this, however, for my good fortune, has the least disturbed my faith and my love, even beyond the garden prospettatoci by Lewis.

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Naples and die (118): Viagra and its

Tgcom - Italians choose Viagra (click here)





alarmed some days I get mail, and visiting the blogs of some friends, I find the same anxiety. It is raising a tide of fear underground, a pain of living due to a future compromise, which was previously only territory of the artists, the real ones, the hypersensitive, visionaries capable of transmitting images even prematurely on what lies ahead. Now, probably because of the media, not for inspiration, this ability to cast a glance into the future, not exactly cheerful, seems to have expanded into the collective consciousness. And the question that arises at all is: what can we do?

course, if we have a reason to use it without panic "or fall into the trap of superstition. But perhaps we also need a bell'esame of consciousness, with scales, is stupid and pointless to rail against those who feel responsible for a phenomenon that promises to be irreversible and that affects everyone.

I think the link given above is rather indicative and invites us to reflection, cyberspace can also help us and not just damn. This is a Google search on the words most clicked in various countries.

begin with us and Viagra.

In a place where there is almost zero at birth, and therefore it is mainly inhabited by old people, and I use the word with the greatest respect, what you can aim for if not to a drug that makes it possible to sex? But not only they, the old interest. The fact is that an excess license can lead to impotence, because one always wants more, like a hungry man is not never satisfied. And, after exploring all possible, stay hungry, the means are impoverished, and the targets too.

We have forgotten, I've already written but I want to repeat, which is a pure illusion to the dream of winning the Promethean nature. The possibility of generation in vitro relentlessly undermine our desires that were created for reproduction. And this is not a religious discourse, but it's uncomfortable all the same. Why is their function to create the body, where the position decade, the department has no further reason to exist. But I do not feel apocalyptic, I try punishment for those who remain attached as the last bit of meat left on the bone. And this is not to say that I do not like, I just want to say that I do not want to force.

I am convinced that we will be given other, perhaps now even inconceivable, because the rhythms of nature are long, but I am confident. And I am confident because I have faith, because I firmly believe that God is to rule the world, although we are not able to understand it, before allowing the problems that present evil, free will giving to those who can not handle it. If Canadians are clicking

marijuana, Moroccans Jihad, Britney Spears Mexicans, Americans love, and so on, is always a matter of deficiencies, has been claimed in the name of what is lacking.

And oddly enough, by way of indication, between the words click on Google is missing the word God

But that does not see it as a sin, but as an impoverishment of the world. And an inability to realize that even the interest to Britney Spears or Kate Moss, even in that of the marijuana or Tom Cruise or Jihad, there is so much, but just so great hunger for God and capacity to love. Because there is no other agreement, other rules, other doctrine than this: we receive the love of God and give him loving others, even to the sacrifice and renunciation, if necessary.

E 'is the only request we made. It is not da poco, certo, l'amore di nemmeno my Nostro Signore è da poco. Perchè così possiamo ottenere soltanto a uscire dalla paura ed equilibrio.

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Naples DIES (119): Poems

POET DI STRADA

da "For a man" di Viola d'Amore (con traduzione di EUEU)


She was the rose garden in the middle of the desert

the Hope that grows day
drops of honey in my life
It was my laugh and my game
and danced on my hand open
It was her naked body that my voice was discovering
secretly
start doing every day She was

returned my project each time tomorrow
IMPRÉVU the naissance du desir et la rage aussi

the Parcour voyant le monde libre
you
Elle etait mon cadeau
but vertige
cette bien-aimee bizarre.



She was a rose garden in the desert

the hope that drives the day
drops of honey in my life
was my rice and my game
and danced on my hand open
She was his naked body
discovered that my voice startled secretly
doing every day was my project

postponed each time until tomorrow
the sudden birth of desire and anger even

to see her travel the world

She was so free My gift
My favorite this bizarre
vertigo.

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Naples DIES (118): Lessons of love.

by: "Elegy" by Alain De Botton, ed. Bloomsbury Publishing.


The nature of a curse that the person is forced to endure it ignores that there is a secret code inside every individual, which develops over a lifetime, however, unable to find a joint prior. Oracle Oedipus is warned that he will kill his father and marry his mother, but the knowledge of future events is not enough merely to alert the "I" is not able to defuse the curse encrypted. To avoid the prediction of the oracle, Oedipus is thrown out, but ends up also marrying Jocasta: for him, not him, it's written his story. He knows the possible outcome, it warns of the dangers, but can not change it ...


But I was marked by what evil fate? Only by my inability to give birth to happy relationships, the greatest disgrace that could touch in modern society. Banned from the shady grove of love, I was forced to wander the earth until the day I die, unable to remove the morbid condition that caused me to run away from those I loved. I tried a name for this illness, I found him in the psychoanalytic description of repetition compulsion , defined as:

... and uncontrollable process of unconscious origin, with which the subject stands in painful situations actively, repeating this experience without remembering the old prototype and very much alive but the impression that this is something that is fully justified in the current situation. (J. Laplanche, J,-B. Pontalis, Encyclopedia of Psychoanalysis, Bari, Laterza 1968. (NDT).


The comforting aspect of psychoanalysis (if one may speak in terms of both optimistic) is the number of meanings which gives the world in which we live. No school of thought is further away from the notion that our world is an invention without sense (even to deny meaning and meaningful). The meaning, however, is never mild: the lexicon of the psycho-fatalist has subtly replaced the words and then with the word so, thereby identifying a causal link paralyzing. I had loved Chloe and then she left me. I loved Chloe so she would leave me. The painful story of my love was a palimpsest, in which it was written another story. Buried in the unconscious, a model was forged in the early months or years. The child had rejected his mother or his mother had left the baby, and now the boy / man to recreate the same scenario, different actors but the same plot, Chloe in the clothes worn by another. Why I chose her? It was not for the shape of her smile or vivacity of his mind. It was because the unconscious, stage manager of the internal drama, recognized in her a temperament suited to the role of the script parent / child, someone who, with his early departure from the scene and need to wreck and sorrow, would bind the playwright.
------------------------------------------------- -----------------------------------------------
A this should be a reflection of a practical nature for women. Before beginning an affair with a man informed well about the relationships between him and his mother. Inducetelo talking about it, so, as if nothing had happened, even during a good dinner by candlelight you have prepared for this purpose. If during the narration you will find that it is hopelessly in love and employee, congedatelo gracefully because you suck in bed. If, however, will prove to be a refusal and a repulsion towards the mother figure, then ask yourself at risk, because you might meet a hot night of love, but only if they fall within prototype and only for one night, because after rowdy incestuous in its performance, try to make out with one excuse or another, what if you have some 'of the brain, will inspire you to get away like hell.
But if you discover that the man in question has a fine relationship with her mother, made love, devotion, respect and responsibility, then do not let you jump through hoops to escape, because we find ourselves in a rare individual. And by that I mean: a real man.

EUEU

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