And then Life Changed

Mysore again

Was there in September. Returned. Moved somewhere else. Went back there. Returned. And will go again. Soon.

A Mysore Diary

My intimate journal is written in many paper notebooks and it is wholly sentimental. Narcisus Poeticus, Great Photographer, French Madman, Golden Boy, Soul Musician, Moody Artist, Bigamous Coward, Lifetime Lover, Little Star, Beautiful Being, Eastern Painter and so many others have co-stared with me, Butterfly, in a big time Love Production. My Mysore diary must be something different.

Mysore

I am returning to Mysore. The question is: am I doing this for Little Star, for Guruji, or for Myself? I thought it in this precise order. Does it mean something? Am I getting my priorities wrong? Am I being blasphemous? Should it be for Guruji, for Myself and for Little Star? For Myself, for Guruji, no Little Star? Does it matter?

I feel the urge and the need to go. So, I am going.

A Reminder

Wake, butterfly -
it's late, we've miles
to go together.

Basho

The Highway Monster - Part III

For a while, the three of us were always together. I was told he pleasurably wallowed in sado-masochist relationships. Barbara told me that. He used to aggress his previous girlfriend. And vice-versa. That was probably why Barbara found Luca attractive and insisted on introducing him to me. She loves risk. But I am docile and removed. He had no success with me. I also knew that he was not dangerous. And not brave.

One afternoon Zac and I managed to sneak out of his apartment. I stole the car keys from under the pillow while he slept. Unlike us, Luca was was no night animal. He badly needed siesta to recover from so many endless nights awake. Zac and I ran out and drove to our best friend to tell him about the impending danger. We asked him to rescue us. Zac liked him. We both did. We liked him a lot. He just smiled and ignored us. Forever in love with himself. He sent us away. We sadly returned to Luca.

More days went by. Summer was hot and humid. We did not travel much. At dawn we ate delicatessens for breakfast. Eggplant Tramezzini were my favourite. We drank Prosecco in the afternoons. We sat in esplanades, lost in the ochre shades of the city. We had dinner in Osterie and trendy oriental restaurants. We listened to Jazz. Then, one day, the person I loved passed away. Luca no longer made sense in our lives. We had no place for him. I left him.

I stayed home for a couple of weeks, barricaded. Not answering his calls. He called under different names. Luca wanted us. When Zac and I resumed our evening walks, he tried following us again. We had to persuade him to leave us alone. We had protectors. They actively warned him. For a long while he still observed us, but from afar.

Years later, whenever we crossed paths, he insisted on interpreting our time together. Perhaps we could talk about it, he said. But we kept away from him. I gave no particular meaning to our encounter. I knew that Luca just felt very lonely and that Zac and I needed distraction. That amounted to all emotion between us. Nowadays, he works for a jazz radio station. Barbara left Gianni who, at last, rebelled and slapped her when she told him she had never loved him. And I am still here. But without Zac.

The Highway Monster - Part II

In the late afternoon, I finally dropped Luca at Via dei Giubbonari and went home. Relieved. Zac was overjoyed. We hadn’t slept all night. I had a shower and lazily prepared for bed. Then the doorbell rang. I opened and there he was. Smiling, pointing a gun at me. Grinning. I had never experienced something even close to this. But here it was. A real gun against my head, held by a lunatic. I crumbled. I literally sprawled down on the floor. Whining. That eventually turned him off and he put the gun away. Laughing, saying that it was just a joke.

Zac was in the garden and did not witness the scene. I was glad he hadn’t. He would have been very nervous too. After a sleepless night and only two hours after having got rid of him, Luca came back into our house. The nightmare had returned. Since we could not play with weapons, Luca suggested some other games. Some circus trick, like dagger-throwing. With kitchen knives, perhaps. I declined. I patiently dissuaded him. I could see that he was also exhausted and, after a couple of hours, I managed to talk him out of the house. He left, I felt heroic. Zac and I slept like angels.

The following evening, Zac and I were walking the streets again. Just walking. Feeling the hot desert wind. Drinking the beauty. Thinking. We thought a lot. We were always thinking. But Rome is a very small city. The Centro Storico is like a village. We obviously came across Luca. He told us that the previous night, on his way back home, he had had an accident. Nothing serious, but he was on foot now. No transportation, no car, no motorcycle. He found it a very unpleasant condition.

He then invited us to his apartment. To have a look. Spend some time. Listen to music. He was friendly. He seemed almost normal. We listened to Chet Baker and I was half seduced. When Zac and I tried to leave, we realised that Luca had locked us inside. We had to spend the night with him. The next day, he took my car keys. We had been kidnapped. From that moment onwards, he refused to let us go. He abducted us to his home, to our house, for dinner, all over Rome. I was no longer free. I could only think of how to get away. Actually, I no longer thought. And Zac simply loved being permanently outdoors.

The Short Farewell

Yes, it’s over.

No, I don’t love you.

And now, Honey, please. Go.

Go suck some dicks without remorse.

To A.

"Let me keep your footprints in my heart."

Rabindranath Tagore

A Real Woman

Eve, what a child! And how ironic to think that she was the one to pick me up. Right there, under my girlfriend’s nose, at my birthday party. That was last winter. I’m a Scorpio. I thought she was professional. I was so turned on I had to walk right out of the house to talk to her. Followed her to the garden. Away from the noise, to understand what she wanted. The two of us alone in the dark. It was freezing cold and she left me speechless. She was so hot! Well, the very next day, I called her first thing in the morning.

Our dates went on for months. Eve used to call me, out of the blue. She would set an appointment. We would meet that same day. She never asked me about other women. Then she would evaporate until the next phone call. Some other times, she looked for me in clubs and we met in between other women. She took me away for a couple of hours and then returned me to the next one. I never understood what she wanted. It didn’t bother me. She was weightless.

At night, I move from one night-club to the other and life changes accordingly. One night she caught me in different places with six women - three actual dates and their best friends - and she just laughed her head away and applauded me. Congratulating me on the fact that the quality of the women kept improving and that the friends were definitely uglier than the chosen dates. And she left, giggling. That’s how she was. Cool, light, vaporous.

And I wouldn’t have guessed that she could be so immature. So childish! Telling me yesterday that she found another lover. Asking me permission to sleep with him. And shyly explaining that she won’t be able to see me anymore. As if we had some kind of compromise. I told her I loved her black stockings. I tried to touch her legs, to distract her. Asked her to stay. She was adamant: only one lover at a time.

And I also know who this idiot is! A guy who has been chasing all my girls for weeks now. She won’t put up with him for more than two days. Two nights, really. Days are too long for bearing with the animal. He’s the kind of guy who will say “Madame, The Meal was Divine!”. I heard him say just that at a dinner party. A volleyball player, yes. But a dumb, balding Italian bastard.

And I told her. I told Eve that a Real Woman should have as many lovers as she desires and not let anybody know about it. Especially not her other lovers. Well, I have to teach her. I want her to be for real.

To K.

The mighty desert is burning for the love of a blade of grass who shakes her head and laughs and flies away.

Rabindranath Tagore

The Body

The very first one was Vladimir. He used to ride me. He sat on my back and did it. A bit like in Fallen Angels, the movie by Wong Kar Wei, where someone did it in a food market, on top of a dead fat pig. Then Elena came along. She was old. I wasn’t too pleased. We did it on the floor, then on the dining room table. But she was too heavy and the table squeaked. It would certainly break one day. And I like youth, I sent her away. After that, I met Igor. He used all of his body while doing it. His chest, his forearms. He kissed my forehead at times. He touched my breast. One day he went too far. So I chose Yulia. She was a psychologist. A lesbian, mother of two daughters. One was 22 years old and the second was 11. Some times, she got carried away and bruised me and I didn’t always enjoy it. Once Svetlana replaced her. She was an athlete, but surprisingly weak. She used accessories. I didn’t feel it at all. Then I met Viktor. He came to me one day when I was enjoying the company of three handsome naked men. He smiled and did it professionally. And then someone introduced me to Artem. Tall, sweet, tender Artem. But his big hands were hot and sweaty. And he always looked so embarrassed. Some time later, I realised that Dmitri had a lot of technique. However, it might have been his religion, I don’t know, he was hypnotised by one part of my body. He also went beyond. I never saw him again. I tried Valeria next. She was good. She was soft. She was the best of the young short-haired women I had met so far. I'm definitely into men, but the two of us seemed to have a good thing going. One day, however, I experimented with Harini. She had long black hair. She used her feet and did it with all her body-weight. She was a big girl. I succumbed. To Harini's Ayurvedic massage. So much better than the deep-tissue Russian massage that, until then, I had loved so much.

Go

Go all out in romance and let the chips fall where they may

Jenny Holzer

The Ressurrected of Love

Sick of these bitches! Uncontrolled. Weeping, sobbing bitches. Asking me what to do with their lives. “What am I going to do?” Whatever. Whatever pleases you. Do what you want to do. Why should I care? “What is going to happen now”? Well, exactly the same that happened to the one before you: you will survive! Just like those who could not live without me. They are still here. Still around. Following me. Chasing Man. The fools.

I was kind. Why should I not be? Ann, for instance. She needed me. I was good to her. Rescued her from despair. Listened to her drunk monologues. Gave her pleasure. Took her out. But she wanted it all. She says she wants all from life. What arrogance! What an idiot! And here we are. Once more. The same scenes all over again. And the Drama. No imagination. Always the same script. What a life! I didn’t even want her, she seduced me. And then she went and did it. She fell in love. I told her. How many times did I tell her that I was not the one? A million times. I was sincere. I told her I was preparing her for another man. An older man. A better man.

It’s true. I want them all. Can’t love any of them. Tired of the cannibals. The Resurrected of Love. The Love Martyrs. Dependent. Expendable. Holding on to my feet. Clutching with their fangs. Pulling me down. Drowning me. Never letting go. Can’t they live without me? Pulling. Pushing. Deciding. Blackmailing. The leeches. Draining my blood. Soul engulfers. Flesh swallowers. Thirsty vampires. Surrounding me with their fake female strings of emotion. Suffocating me. Breathing and using up my oxygen.

And I am not here to alleviate them. Not here to fulfil the missing lives. None of them is ever perfect. Not even close to perfection. I wish I could however combine the parts. I surely could take the pieces. Take them in fragments. That one’s breasts, another one’s legs, that very ass. I would LOVE to have all of the good parts. Assemble them. Add sensual pink lips to go with it. A refreshing smile. No words. No conversation. No demands. No nothing. Numb. Dumb. My baby girl. Fresh and pink. Forever young. Novelty every day. Yes. That’s it. Then we could make a deal! Perhaps even a long-term agreement.

To K.

Wish I could be
reborn - as small a man
as a violet

Natsume Soseki

The Highway Monster - Part One

Zac and I were alone. The family left for family matters and we were left alone. Zac knows things about me that nobody knows. Zac has seen things that nobody will ever dream about. Zac and I were more than friends. We walked the empty streets of Rome at night.

That night we met up with Barbara and her boy-friend Gianni. Sometimes Barbara had male companions who were just that, company. She used them as special servants, had them take her to the movies, to restaurants, shopping, whatever. Gianni was one of those. It was Summer in Rome. People were bored. Nothing happened. Barbara was also bored. In particular with Gianni.

So, that evening, she invited Luca for a late dinner at our place. Zac and I were alone, as I said. The house, as usual, was open all night. Barbara decided for us, she needed entertainment and, for that, Luca suited her perfectly well. And I am easy. I don’t care. I was in grief. Someone I loved was dying. I didn’t care. I wanted distraction.

Barbara cooked dinner. Spaghetti al Pomodoro. After a while, it was getting late, she and Gianni left. Luca stayed on because he had to be driven back to town. Zac and I lived in the countryside and Barbara was our neighbour. The hours went by and Luca refused to go home. He watched films and talked. He would not allow me to fall asleep either. At dawn he suggested that we travel up the coast, towards Tuscany, where he had a yacht. We could go and see it and spend the day by the sea. The blue sea. I didn’t see any other way of getting him out of the house. I enjoy driving and Zac loves travelling. We took the Via Aurelia. All along Luca complained about my driving, about the music, about Zac.

As we drove by Civitavecchia, then by Porto Ercole, Luca kept explaining that the boat was moored somewhere else further North. I understood that there was no such boat and that he was lying. He just wanted to go for a ride. He did not want to be alone. After a whole morning cruising, we ended up in Siena. Zac was sleepy and very tired and he did not like Luca either. So, the minute I walked into a Caffè, leaving the two of them alone, right there in the middle of Piazza del Campo, Zac did his little thing: he defecated.

***

O Zac e eu estavamos sozinhos. A família tinha viajado por assuntos familiares. O Zac sabe coisas de mim que ninguém mais sabe. Viu coisas com que ninguém alguma vez sonhará. O Zac e eu éramos muito mais do que Amigos. Passeávamos à noite pelas ruas vazias de Roma.

Naquela noite encontrámo-nos com a Bárbara e o namorado dela, o Gianni. Às vezes a Bárbara tinha companheiros masculinos que eram apenas isso, companhia. Usava-os como criados especiais, levavam-na ao cinema, aos restaurantes, às compras, onde fosse preciso. O Gianni era um desses. Era Verão em Roma. As pessoas entediavam-se. Nada acontecia. A Bárbara também se aborrecia. Sobretudo com o Gianni.

Então, essa noite, a Bárbara convidou o Luca para uma ceia em nossa casa. O Zac e eu estávamos sozinhos. A casa, como sempre, estava aberta toda a noite. A Bárbara decidiu por nós, precisava de ser entretida e, para esse fim, o Luca era perfeito. E eu sou fácil. Não quero saber. E estava triste. Uma pessoa que eu amava estava a morrer. Não queria pensar. Queria distracção.

A Bárbara cozinhou o jantar. Spaghetti al Pomodoro. Passado algum tempo, porque era tarde, ela e o Gianni foram-se embora. O Luca ficou porque precisava de boleia para a cidade. O Zac e eu vivíamos no campo e a Bárbara era nossa vizinha. As horas passavam e o Luca recusava-se a ir-se embora. Via filmes e falava. E não me deixava adormecer. Ao amanhecer, sugeriu que fizéssemos uma viagem pela costa, em direcção à Toscânia, onde ele tinha um barco ancorado. Podíamos ir ver o barco, passar o dia ali, ver o mar. O mar azul. Eu não via outra maneira de o tirar de nossa casa. Gosto de conduzir e o Zac adora viajar. Fomos pela Via Aurelia. Durante todo o caminho, o Luca queixou-se da minha condução, da música, do Zac.

Quando passámos Civitavecchia e, a seguir, Porto Ercole, o Luca começou a explicar que o barco estava ancorado mais a Norte. Comecei a perceber que não havia barco nenhum e que ele nos tinha mentido. Queria apenas passear de carro. E não queria estar sozinho. Ao fim de uma manhã inteira a viajar, acabámos em Siena. O Zac estava cheio de sono, já cansado e também não gostava do Luca. Quando entrei num Café, deixando-os sozinhos, o Zac vingou-se bem no meio da Piazza del Campo: defecou.