Wednesday, February 27, 2008

bad games ...miscelaneous

stir it up!

"Do not spoil what you have
by desiring what you have not;
remember that what you now have
was once among the things
you only hoped for."


war game I

well, i'm publishing this link on some personal stuff just because i think this kind of things must be spread away the most we can, and everyone (who wants to get aware and educated about what's going on right now here on earth) MUST SEE this, and should be looking for this kind of information, and please, go watch all the episodes 'cause ...those liars, they're playing their game without any efficient opposition, and we (the deluded people, the pawns in their hands) are accepting it all in "exchange" for the right to have some beer and barbecue at the weekends, maybe some friday's sex if we're lucky (beyond all media stimulation) and
, for sure, lots of entertainment stuff (too much indeed)... they're pushing us the feeling that... if all this is possible we're safe and well... oh fuck!

war game II

i was about to write something about Life, Love, Sex and Games, basically to express my opinion about this fucking game you were trying to put us in... but then, when i read what you wrote... uuh... everything became suddenly kinda meaningless... at least for us. ...and now, i just wanna say that: sex is a matter for gambling, games and plays... but dear, Love is not! ...except when we're teenagers... and we are not

this epicurus quote can say better than anything i could try to say the same... and as you seem to misunderstand the very meaning of the words, even those you use yourself, i decided to withdraw this insane fucking match we were in, ...and i'll try to feel actually free to live those things and possibilities i was pretty blind to see (though i can perceive them) just because of my Love feelings for you. but, that's ok, i'm fine anyway... maybe you're not ready for this, even...

note: it was written and supposed to be posted at 22/02/08 but no matter why... it wasn't... aah, now i remember, i was going to make some "intelligent" mixing with those games above ...but, as i've said already, when i read what you wrote... everything became senseless...

p.s. i'll let you with some words from this woman that i really Love
...take it to do your homework


(a.c.c. transl. by m.d.l.t.)

I am going to pass around in a minute some
lovely, glossy blue picture postcards.

In a minute I'll hand out some beautiful
glossy postcards.
This is the leather suitcase that keeps the famous
Look at my hands, empty.
My pockets are also empty.
My hat is also empty. Look. Nothing
up my sleeves.
I'll show you my back, I turn around.
As all of you can see, there's no illusionism here,
no cheating behind your backs, no tricky games
with light.
The suitcase rests on the chair here.
I open the suitcase with this master key
in ceremonies of this type, if
you forgive the joke.
The first thing we find in the suitcase, on top
of everything else, is—guess—a pair of gloves.
Here they are.
Fancy stuff.
I put them on—left hand… right hand…
a perfect fit.
This reminds me of…
A young artist wandering astray by himself in the elegant
Berlin of the Belle Époque who in vain is looking for
pleasure. A noisy group of skaters go by, and
a woman in white lets her glove drop, a
glove with six padded buttons, white, long,
perfumed. The young man runs, grabs the glove, but
can't decide whether he should accept the challenge or not. In the end
he decides to ignore it, puts the glove in his pocket and returns
to his hotel walking down dimly
lit streets.
But I'm drifting from the purpose of this
evening. If there's time left I'll let you know the end
of this fantastic story in which even Neptune 's
chariot, a gigantic grinning bat that
always flees, and an ocean of foliage appear.
Who's to say that this isn't that same glove?
Yet we don't have only one here, but a
pair; it is delicate and in sharp contrast with the black
Does the leather suitcase keep any toiletries?
No, my friends.
As all of you can see now as I slightly
rotate the chair where it rests,
the suitcase contains nothing but paper…

postcards… dozens, maybe even hundreds of
Strange suitcase!
And now, pay attention.
With my gloved hands—one moment,
let me button one… now the other…
gingerly… this is no scam… I adjust the
cuffs, like this…—now, with these hands,
at random, I take the first postcard, I
contemplate it for a second under the light…

there's a reflection… but I see here a drowned girl under
the rush… I'm handing out the first postcard, please
pass it around… second postcard: the
Avenida Atlântica… pass it around… a Cadillac
in Acapulco … Carmen… the Pompidou Center …
a church in Alabama … a castle seen from the Orient…
two cupids wearing sunglasses… the jewelry
thief and the duchess… and this one here is Fred Astaire in
Lady Be Good , or he won't make art, honey…
nostalgic… and a Marilyn, and here the beach in
Clacton with bingo and fish and chips… Air France 's
Boeing… streetcars going up the hills of
San Francisco … a polar bear in the Barcelona
zoo… Salome… London … another Salome…
pass them around, pass them around.
Dear friends, this is a suitcase, not a hat
full of rabbits.
We have enough postcards to last all night.
Alexandria … Beirut … Prague …
Be Mysterious, a picture by Paul…
Gaugin, followed by What's the matter, you're jealous?
a naughty question in a sly tone, just like that,
sunbathing at the beach.
And others of museums over here:
The eye like a strange balloon rising up
to infinity;
On the horizon, the angel of certitudes, and in the somber
sky, a questioning gaze;
Lady in despair;
The blood of Medusa;
The evil mothers;
I close the door on myself;
The kiss;
Another kiss;
Jealousy again;
and now the real Wuthering Heights,
followed by a curious sports race,
some pornography, and a godfather named
Dear friends, I have no idea where this is going.
I'm passing these postcards around
quickly. Notice these pockets attached with an
elastic band, oh I almost forgot to say
that you can and should turn them around
to check whether any words
are scribbled there, take this one for instance “When
might we have an esquisite time again?”,
exquisite with an s, or this one here, “Post 6,
where I spent my childhood and adolescence,
how has it changed!”, or this other one, listen,
“I'm still trying to send you a piece of where
I am but it's always missing.” And another with
tiny letters: “I've calmed down, I distracted
myself, I don't think as much, penso a te.” I think the end
is in Italian. Go on reading, go on, the most part
might be blank. Excuse me.
I have to go but I'll be right back.
I've got something in my eye, a little speck: when I return
I'll keep pulling out postcards from the bag, and who knows,
when the time comes, I might tell you the end
of that true story, but before I leave I should take off
my glove, leave it here on the back of the chair.

“Deep down, I'm pretty superficial.” (a.g.)
"On the surface, I'm deeply profound." (y.z.)


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