Clothing

I spent more of my life dressing as a wild beast. Problem was I never felt comfortable in going shopping. To enter in a shop, engage in conversation with the clercks, show them what I liked what I didn't; it is like showing to someone what you'd like to appear, and that feels quite an intimate thing to show. But I always found some piece of clothing to have a certain character; never they were new, they always belong to someone else and it just happen that I meet them, as I can meet persons. I use to find a strange extiment in stealing clothes all around. My father's shirts, directly from the 70s, they made me feel so good. The stuff you find abandoned in the wardrobe, appearing to you in shadow, feeling like opening an old photo album. And, yes, I belive clothes have the power to communicate feelings, even attitudes towards life. From there must also come my repulsion for sportsware.

My ex girlfriend thought I was particularly beautiful. She also was older than me and so began to dress me as a child. But I loved her style, what she chosed for me. She never bought me anything new, all she gave me came directly from her family wardrobe, from the shadow of old houses in the countriside. I still wear with love her black wool jumper, the fantastic leater jacket of her uncle, from the late 60s. They're old pieces, and they look it, but I can feel I am me wearing them. My past is there, her love, my love; so when I wear them I still feel I love and that I'm loved, or at least that I had and that I could.

But of course I had to force myself to go shopping sometimes. Just like another of my autistic habits, I went all the times in exactly the same place, getting almost the same things. Ther was (and there is) this linen stand in a street market in Rome. You walk among the stands and you're pushed from all the sellers in a north-african way. "Hi 'bello' what do you need, tell me!", "Hey, come, I have something for you". But the linen stand was owned by two brothers in their 50s, quiet guys with beards and wearing only linen, rigurously. Linen shirts and linen trousers is all i bought for wearing. The rest was given to me or stolen around.

Then in Africa I understood a lot about clothings. In the forest it was sufficient to wear a blanket in the local fashion, to immagine better what local might have in their minds, what therir perceptions might be. Wearing a blanket you learn a lot of movements you must do, the sensitiveness of your body not to let it fall. The manierism of wrapping it around you. Plus all the things you can do with it, for which you shall consider it in the economy of your daily life. Pillow at night, shelter for the rain, or you can collect things in it. Clothing is a step towards a different set of perceptions. The elegance of a forest dweller cutting a trail with the machete wearing an old suit. That was so elegant and dignitous.

Different context, but still in Africa. In the capital, you are a forigner with a t-shirt, you are a sir with a suit. At the University no one payed attention to me with my thech field jumper, present of good friends of mine; but when I bought myself a suit, they gave me the key of the laboratory. But also, I had lices, I toke the whole rainy season in the forest, I had mud in the smallest fiber of my clothes which I wahsed in a river for two months. I went shopping as a tirsty man drinks a lemonade. "Happiness is" I remember thinking, "to wear immaculate underware".

Then, there was M. How could such a poor girl be so stylish. She had this t-shirt, she made it herself, from pieces of other t-shirts. When she told me I thought that in comparison Armani after all is just a wanker. And her trousers, how they fit perfectly her body. And her look alltogether, no different at all from someone walking at a fashion show. She communicated me all this, with her attention on the smallest spot on my trousers, "their dirty, you give to me, I wash tomorrow". I let her did it only once, it sounded too colonial to me. The point is, to be clean and well dressed was an expression of self respect and respect for others; you don't need money, you need to be clean and dignitous. You need to show you pay attention, and that you have courage to put forward with dignity your choices or even creations. If you feel it's right, that it is, no matter what people thinks. And also, without these little attentions what would be of her young life in the suburbs of an African metropolis? And also again, she surprised me with those and made me love her.

Here, today I did something strange. It's a strange period, so I went shopping. The excuse is that I have an interview on Tuesday. So I got myself a suit and a jacket. I run back home to wear them and look at me at the mirror. I look so different. And I wonder if my actual social network would accept me like this. All the implications of wearing something. I look stylish like this. Coming from a fashion magazine. People, including people at the interview, would think I'm superficial, that I spent a lot of money. But I think about M., she would like; she would say "Yannez, this is beautiful, this is fashion". And looking at the mirror I miss her. My grandson will find this jacket in the wardrobe in the old house. In his twenties he will wear a bit of my feelings.

I'm getting pathologic

ho guys, this is getting serious. can't react. i staied another day at home, between tele, laptop and bed. you know, the wind makes a noise in this house... and always manage to enter from somewhere, it gets on your skin that irritating touch of north pole. i feel i don't care to face it. there's a psychic challenge between me and the weather which i don't ask you do understand, it's long and cryptic to explain. suffice to say i had enough. don't want to have another christmas time. i'm all in tension for something else of this place i don't belong to, with its people, palaces and wind. it's getting pathologic. i think and think again about my life in few, very few long months; what i'm going to do and where, so far away. dreams build up in the air, solid as concrete yet uncertain, because that's how my future is: i need it, yet i don't know its face. i think and think again abut MT, now she's my angel, now a liar; how she can change so abruptly in my mind. i love her, i know i do, but i don't know her, i know i don't. yet how important she is to me. i think and think again about myself and the dymension i want to live in and what do i need to have around. dreams can only drag me blind, i need to react. i'm so close to fuck all up, so close. but the idea doesn't scare me. who the hell can be possibly be here? there's nothing here, not even me, not even my life, why fear? that's a cold, polar oblivion i must escape from, and fast, runnig, rising fingers, shouting. i'll say thanks also, as i loved it; it just lasted too long and it's getting me somewhere i don't want to go.

The tiranny of global bullshit

All right, so now don't say I'm from the dark age when I say that global knowledge is no less than a illusion or a trick. Anything global is just like the war on terror, same mechanism with the trick of science. Scientists say that, so we better do this. Sorry, we must. Truth is, scientists say many things and politicians pick up what they can instrumentally use. Right wing, left wing, professionals, squat agitators, doesn't matter. Can't say anything against Science, can you? Easy, the "politics of absolute truth". Nice one.

Take climate change. That's a big thing, isn't it? Now tell me who had the courage to go and read the IPCC report. I tried. Confusing ah? Yes. I felt I had to do something about it. But when I had to explain people why, could not find the words. It just was it, there is this agreement that CO2 emission are rising temperatures. After all, the agreement is itself the base of the ethical commitment in doing something about it.

But I still think it's a good exercise to at least try to see things logically, at the level of clarity and quality our intelligence, as a species, is capable of. After all we're talking about "Our Common Future", as they said in '87. Personally, it is clear that someone is trying to get me paranoid, irrational and psychotic. Honestly, I don't have time and knowledge to find out myself what's happening to the climate. I just have to relie to what they say; the more I must relie, the more gravity has the dishonesty of the one whose role is to explain. I can't forgive that, for the following. I'm pissed off, and we all should be.

As many I whatched the documentary on the BBC "The Great Climate Swindle". Let me say that documentaries are probably the less indicated sources of truth or clarifications, but they make you think fine. Since I have acces to journals, I made some research on peer reviewed papers and learned some stuff more, whihc of course partially contraddicted the program, but I didn't expect it to say the truth, as for the other one by Al Gore.

But, for fuck sake, CLIMATE IS DEPENDENT ON SOLAR ACTIVITY, as this graph shows.



This is a scientific finding, there is agreement, I can understand how the study was done and what it wanted to say; it's fine, it's evidence, nothing to say about that. Now: why no one talks about it and say a different story? What's the problem? What are they scared of? Relax, as you can see on the graphs there's something dodgy going on after the '80s, so don't panic, you might still be right, mr Blair/IPCC.

The thing I can't stand is how Mr. Blair is applying to climate change the same psychic engeneering so successful in preparing the war in Iraq. That's dangerous, but HE IS RIGHT. He found a good method of manipulation; it just works, nothing to say. Why? Beacuse we're probably just an herd of sheeps, shyning in the darkness of this age. Much more black ones, they might have to turn on the lights.

Now, have a look at the doc:



If you have access to journals see these:

Solanki, S.K.
Solar variability and climate change: Is there a link?
(2002) Astronomy and Geophysics, 43 (5), pp. 9-13.

Courtillot, V.a , Gallet, Y.a , Le Mouël, J.-L.a , Fluteau, F.a , Genevey, A.b
Are there connections between the Earth's magnetic field and climate?
(2007) Earth and Planetary Science Letters, 253 (3-4), pp. 328-339

If you don't let me know and I'll see what I can do for you.

Your part

Can't belive it's snowing, ahahahahhahah depression.......

Slight hangover behind the frozen windows, back ache after the pull-up bar fell off under the weight of me and m*****, somehow it also gave us a bit of head ache. Couldn't realize on the moment, too busy teasing a******* who has a boyfriend but still.

People look at you, people observe you, people make their considerations; maybe even more when you isolate yourself, people think about you with more use of imagination. Even so, I spoke yesterday with persons which I considered only to barely know, and actually I don't know the names; still, they told me a lot about myself, thanks to the alchool, which I admnit is quite intimate. Surprise surprise. The tedious and useless middle-class social network also exists at a deeper level, connecting intimacies and unexpressed underworlds. True, easy. A kind of energy flow in history and space, most of the time you do your part without noticing, without knowing.

Apologize

Apologize for all the bullshit I'm posting recently. I just need to get away from this place ASAP. The wind blow and blows and blows as a drunk man pushing you without noticing. Guys in purple sportsware bring on bicycles faces rotten by alcohol and heroin and shout a language they don't even understand. seagulls roam in the sky just waiting the moment they can steal your sandwich. mums and pas and teens spending a fortune in low quality fornitures, gadgeting, clothes. and that's a great deal of life. no one to look at and dream in the pubs, just the same old friends by chance, doing the same old things, saying the same all things. the cold made us all pale and scary looking so that's sad to see us smile, our suffering skin on the chicks under eyes wet of beer and unconfortable sleeping. the world is so far away that cannot challenge those little rules of living, so that remain tremendously important even without a minor shadow of sense. this is the reign of ugliness, this is the anti-reality, this is the anthithesis of life as i know it and how i like it; sorry, it's just is. tell you the truth, this place has made me suffer and i'll rise the middle finger heading south, finally, wont miss anything or anyone; no friends, no places, no time, nothing. out of my life for good, that's the best thing they can do.

just a little more time... just a little more... i'll get out of this organized stupidity.

Dull

To execute a program is something machines do, even if the program is your own. How many lives unseen in the run towards achievements. How many achievements have no more sense when reached. How not to be productive is an healty sign that you are still sane, deep inside; and that your not quite convinced, you want understand more, you see that after all there's no flying point. It is sad, not to be able to be relativistic about your culture, as if what you see is the only world that exists. It is not. Dull, dull, dull, dull, dull...

Just to say that I had enough, deep inside, and I'll go home.

Ridiculous and dignity

Nothing more ridiculous than the excess of self confidence. Dignity is awareness of one's limitations, and of their value. That's how you manage to have dignity even when you're found ridicolous. But the worse, is when you're ridicolous to yourself, isn't it?

Living totality

To do good is to do in respect of the life of others. To feel good is to feel part of a living totality. The more inclusive it is, the better you'll live, the better you'll feel. "Freedom is participation" said someone, but you can't explain that to the Americans. "America has a lot of problems, but our people has a lot of problems too" said someone else; America is doing bad and feeling worse, that's the truth. It is so lonely and crazy, as it was Rome, as it was Babylon, as it was Cuzco. Slave of a building madness, of a lonely and fierce unhappiness. As soon and as long as you're alive, you're married with anything that exists, that's what they don't understand.

Life works

Life works beleivig that little things are important. Isn't it?

So when you go far above, what's your living about?

Good tomatoes are worth living

Don't make of your life a woman. But do have one for life, right? And give yourself for life. Love is what comes loving. Is both a feeling and an action. You have to want to do it. Grow tomatoes in the garden, in the good and bad weather.

A kind of happiness

It is a kind of happiness when you can have a coffee, a cigarette, sit down and look at women passing by. Goodlooking ones, possibly.
That's why I miss Italy.