Tag Archive: Art Deco middle aged bastard


4477

We have our idiosyncrasies.
Sometimes I truly hate him, so much I want to tackle him and his fucking heavy-lifting frame with my 50 kilograms.
Other days he makes me purr, no-one’s ever done it before.
I could live wrapped around him like a tiny monkey, my arms around his neck and my face in his back…a living backpack.
Better place to sit on his lap and err…well…
I adore him when he drives delicately my chevrolet darling, when he lends me his shirts to use as pajamas (even his defeated look when this happens), his wardrobe, the quality of the morning light through his kitchen window, his cooking, the rings of smoke he blows when he’s thinking hard.
The smile when he understands he’s winning big, the way he goes for it like there’ll be no tomorrow.
How he walks in after we have a fight, totally aplomb.

Ti is still him.
I am still me.
We just walk side by side down the same road.
Happy & Glorious.

Fin.

pexels-photo-908629.jpeg

Photo by Ale Usama on Pexels.com

Annunci

4440

I hear the creaks.

Something is breaking.

Or maybe we are just stretching the kinks out of our bones.

I guess I like more the second thought.

For the first time now I’m thinking the thing between us is not going to work anymore, Ti.

You want more than what I’m trying to give you.

You want 200%.

Not only my work, my mortal coil or my mind.

You want all of it, the words out of my mouth, the words I promised my freshly adult self of twelve years ago I will never utter to anyone anywhere anytime for the rest of my sorry assed life.

I don’t like to be owned, Ti.

You asked one damned question some weeks ago – the one you shouldn’t ask – and all I heard were links rattling on a chain.

If you keep pushing this on me I’ll bolt like a hare.

The hard part is knowing you’re actually convinced this is the right way.

The correct way.

The only way.

In other words fuck Nietzsche.

4412

Oggi.

Fra nebbie e nervoso e calca.

Ressa e semi-silenzio.

Telefonate non volute ed anche alcune che ho desiderato ma sono divenute sabbie mobili.

Gente che non capisce la parola ‘impegnata’…Povero Ti!

Ed io che inforco la bici e vado.

Sí vado per non litigare e si salvi chi può.

Poi il ritorno, ore in auto.

Altro silenzio.

Io che mi dirigo in cucina pronta a prosciugare mezzo litro di tè e quindi una bella doccia.

E nella cucina ci ritrovo Ti, seduto su una delle seggiole in paziente attesa, non dovrebbe nemmeno esserci secondo la sua agenda.

Un’occhiata mi basta.

A lui no.

No.

No.

Ci sono domande che non si fanno.

Non così.

Soprattutto non a me. Mai a me.

Don’t do it, just don’t.

Life is already a bitch.

Sera, tramonto, dopocena, quindi Ti alla guida della chevrolet darling ed è già notte.
“Do you have a thing for him, Fräulein?”
“Whom?”
rispondo, senza pensare mentre controllo lo smartphone.
Silenzio.
Blocco lo schermo e mi volto a guardarlo, il profilo illuminato dai lampioni.
“What were you talking about?”
“Leave it.”
“You sure?”
Non aggiunge niente mentre l’auto corre a velocità stabile fra gallerie e macchie di luna calante.
“Ti.”
“Yes?”
“Have I ever watched someone else the way I look at you?”
No, le fatidiche paroline non mi sono ancora uscite ed inizio a credere che non mi usciranno mai.
Rimane però che fra me e lui non ci sono ombre, un vero record a questo giro di boa.
“Fräulein.”
“Yes?”
“Want breakfast?”
“Famished.”
“Good, my treat, after that is your turn to drive us home.”
“‘kay.”
“SLOWLY.”

Sometimes there’s much more in the hidden thoughts, the unsaid words, the laughter and the quiet.
Running back where everything started.
We haven’t changed.
We are still here.
The first day we met was a dark day, full of bitter facets and scorn.
Yet you’ve came and stayed.
I can be hard at times, evil and difficult.
Still you’re here and you make my world revolve.

Oh,

Those shades leaden with so near blinding sun heat.

Black asphalt to run on carefree.

Me double mirrored on his sunglasses.

No places to be.

Sand under my naked feet.

Sweet smelling jasmine and ice-mint whiskeys.

My big dark blue straw hat, yes just the one that gives me that 30s diva look and he always fingers up to watch my eyes.

And that road never-ending under a sky so blue.

I was just so happy in those 3 days, Ti.

The sea scent lingering, the torches still lit and the laughter ringing in my ears.

“Are you daydreaming, Fräulein?”

“What if I do?”

“Keep your dreams close.”

I just smile, tightening my hold on his hand.

“I think I shall.”

  1. Driving fast;
  2. Stay in the dark;
  3. Walking home late at night;
  4. What others could think;
  5. Say my ideas as they are;
  6. Find myself a place to live where I can be what I am;
  7. If I have to I’ll destroy anything in my path with no remorse;
  8. Being truthful when no one is;
  9. I can be quite cruel if someone drives me to be;
  10. Cling to a tiny idea and create something of enormous proportions (writers know what I mean!😁)

Bonus

11. The ‘Holy Fucking Shit!’ I exclaimed this morning at full volume seeing Ti’s attire for the day and his smug grin while he lit up his cigarette, someday he’ll definitely find the right combo for making me faint on the spot, I just know it. 😍

There are days like today.
Where I’m so fed up when I stop working in the evening.
When I just snap at little things going wrong, screaming.
I don’t have the patience to prepare my customary cup of tea before dinner nor the desire to eat, and already I skipped lunch and breakfast, like a total moron.
I’m so primitively mad I have no regrets saying ‘Fuck you!’ to the world in general.
That’s when I put my phone on hold, close the door and make a dive for the bed, punching everything I can reach.
It’s childish but harmless.
I usually get up after that for a hot bath + washing my hair.
That doesn’t really help much but I usually feel human again.
These are the days without Ti.
I can’t help it, I tried.

He’s away a lot this days and I’m deprived of my favourite ray of sunshine.
He makes me happy, he makes me angry, he knows how and has the smile of an angel.

4209

When you go shopping and you choose with him™ in your mind: comments and….eh…well…

He’s hard to please but he has taste…😏

Fumo blu, fumo blu

Una nuvola e dentro tu…

“I want the moon.”
“You sure, Fräulein?”
“Yeah…”

And what happens next?
There She is…on my nightstand…

Ti, you’re the best…❤

And fly me to the moon…
And let me play among the stars
Let me see what spring is like on Jupiter and Mars
In other words hold my hand
In other words darling kiss me…

4170

Sto per finire di scrivere UT.
Finalmente!
Ho organizzato gli ultimi punti con carta e penna stasera, sul tavolo di marmo verde di Ti mentre lui cucinava solo Dio sapeva cosa di buono.
Sono felice di essere alla fine e sapere finalmente dove Kurt, Linds e Michelle mi stanno portando.
Spero di trovare il tempo di concluderla come si deve.
E poi basta…almeno per un po’, se il topo me lo consente…😅

Shall I talk?
Or will you whisper it?
The dreadful thing we have squeezed between us.
The mixture of seasons, your old and my new.
The smell of spicy tobacco I call aroma.
My kind of freedom you loathe when you can’t reach me and I finished all your favourites.
The long nights I spend driving and working.
The late dinners you cook just for one to be heated in the oven ‘not the microwave, you infidel!!’
The early Sunday mornings, starting the day with a shower for two, tumble and dry.
You trimming your beard, whistling your favourite pavane.
Me and my Twinings Tea.
You and your enormous shirts, as gigantic as your wardrobe really, and my silk scarves.
The lightbulb in the bathroom mirror you are too lazy to tight properly and irks me to death (note to self: bring needed tools).

Do you know the words for this Ti?
I shan’t say them.
I knew crushes and silly affections and stupidity.
I used to know broken dreams, flat promises and often no’s.
All the wrong sidestreets of naiveté I walked.
I don’t look to you as an older figure – a father figure the most cinical say, they watch so much and they become so blind – I look at you as Ti.
Never old in my eyes, not with that hungry glint you have.

I have no words but I know there’s no turnin’ back now, not after all this time.

And if there will be an end to this someday it will be worth it, glorious and ours for it won’t be a surprise but a choice.

As you said
“Love is a journey best appreciated in the company of two or more. Sunrise to sunset. No time is wasted when it fills the desires in your soul. Be grateful if you have found it.”

“To fall in love is easy, even to remain in it is not difficult; our human loneliness is cause enough. But it is a hard quest worth making to find a comrade through whose steady presence one becomes steadily the person one desires to be.” – Anna Louise Strong

 

Edit 13.43 pm: and my heart breaks at the news…oh we shall never hear your beatific voice again! Oh Montserrat! Sad is the day and darkest is this world! 😭

Cartoline.
Lettere d’amore rimaste nel cassetto.
Lettere d’amore spedite e mai ricevute.
Secretaires.
Brooches.
Cofanetti degni di una regina.
Spazzole e specchi istoriati in argento.
Stole di pelliccia e scialli da gran dama.
Specchi rococò e porcellane inglesi.
Fluté di vetro radioattivo.
Gioielli da lutto.
Bigiotteria da sera.
Statue di giada verde o quarzo.
Applique decò in alabastro e lampade Tiffany.
Carillon che tintinnano melanconia di tempi andati.
Danzatrici esotiche nere e oro.
Servizi da tè che suonano alla brezza e spighe di grano in vetro fine come un capello.
Proiettori di inizio secolo.
Sedie in genuino stile impero.
Calcolatrici a leva.
Grammofoni a matrice di cera.
Tappeti persiani e settee vittoriani.
Pantere a grandezza naturale con occhi che ti seguono e fauci spalancate.
Fotografie osè d’inizio ‘900 e pin-up queens che ammiccano.
Pleniluni in soffitti di nero velluto.
Tiare di diamanti falsi.
Dagherrotipi immusoniti.
Bambole di porcellana e vestiti di seta.
Giochi in latta e cavalli a dondolo.
Cammei di donna e medaglioni d’argento con dediche di persone che non ci sono più…
Raccolte di vecchi short films muti dai dieci ai trenta secondi.
Orologi da panciotto fermi e pendoli che rintoccano alla Winchester mentre Ti fischietta il motivetto con il sigaro fra le labbra.
E fra le mie mani l’ultimo foglio di una lettera…

È tardi, la strada sotto alla mia finestra si fa più silenziosa ancora.
Poso la penna ora ma prima di coricarmi il pensiero si alzerà in volo verso i pochi giorni che abbiamo passato insieme. Perduti nel sole, e nei frutti di un’estate nel quale ci siamo conosciuti ed uniti.
Ci ritroveremo, mia amata Claudia, di ciò non dubitare.
Il tuo più umile servo,
Stefano

Palm trees in black and white…
Last thing I saw before I die…
Right light
Right man
Right time to close your eyes in the white cadillac delight silver chevrolet darling

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IMG_20180906_193658

 

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