Tag Archive: Art Deco middle aged bastard

  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!😁)


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.


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?”

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…


Sto per finire di scrivere UT.
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! 😭

Lettere d’amore rimaste nel cassetto.
Lettere d’amore spedite e mai ricevute.
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,

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





Brief summary of this morn at 5 o’ clock:

Baby get a move on!
He says
I say
Come on love, it’s gonna be alright.
He says
I said no.
I say
Fräulein, for fuck’s sake, MOVE!
He looses it

I say
Is it an invite?
He says

Beady eyes shine from a crevice in the pillows and blanket.

I’m not a morning person, and I HATE running, Ti!
I say

He’s smiling…evilly.
Oh no…
The next moment my soft heaven is raided and I’m upside down on his shoulder.
He whistles.

I roar
You were right ma chérie, you put on weight back home.
He says
I’m still not running!
I say
Oh, that’s NOT up for debate, zierlich! Now for some breakfast…
He says

Morale della favola: controllate sempre di non aver davanti un’ossessionato della forma fisica/palestra/etc davanti prima di diventare innamorate cotte.
Sanno essere estremamente persistenti! @o@



I just had one of the worst days of my life…

Only saving grace is coming home to Ti in full exercise mode, stripped to the waist and putting strain to his biceps, and he does that only when he needs to get off something from his chest.

And then turns out his day was no better than mine…

So a call for take-out, and an opened bottle of cognac later, falling stars to watch over our heads…

There are things in life you just can’t buy…thanks above for small mercies…xD

I could die for thy beauty, my favourite jerk in the whole world!

Saturday night, disaster day.

Prosit to a better week in two days.



“Do you have to go home, Fräulein?”

It’s the timbre of his voice.
That lost air he fights so hard to keep reined in.
His big hands curled up on the desk.
I don’t know what is happening to Ti in these last few days but I’m worried.
He seems in another world, a darker one, him so lively and dinamic like I’ll never be.
I’ve been tempted to ask…god, I’m dying to ask and I’m respecting his personal space…
What can I do?
His eyes are literally screaming at me to stay.
At home I have so many things to do, to finish, to explore but that look is scaring me shitless…

“No, I don’t…”

I’m here Ti.
Even if you’ll never tell me what’s wrong.
Because I…care.


What if I do pray?
I know, Ti, God is nothing to me but I’m praying through this awfully hot days.
While my brain is slowly dying to death along with my eyes for the sun and humid air.
While I exercise like a madwoman.
While I drive fast on the highway.
When I find myself thinking of you, looking through tea depths, in my few moments of rest.
At 5.50 am when I usually wake.
I see what I can’t.
I hear nothing, and you are in the shell of my ear.
It is maddening more than anything else I ever knew.
If God existed it would hear my prayers, isn’t it?
If it was a benevolent God, that is…
I know you would smile that knowing crooked smile, now.
All finesse and glinting eyes.
Smoke shimmering in your breath, the sweet cherry flavour of the tobacco you use.
I can savour it on my tongue now.
Maybe the stillness of this heat will make me mad…I don’t truly care if I can have you.

And saying those dammed words that will never leave my mouth.
Shall I wait when it’s going to be too late?
Yes, because I am that kind of idiot.
Silly little thing with an iron will who can plow for its dreams in the midst of the last deathly heatwave  of the summer and then turn spineless coward with fear of an imminent end to happiness.

And I pray, yes, more than you’ll ever know.


And if one day.
But never tomorrow.
We woke up again together,
emerging from a whirlwind of dream and thunder.
Will you listen to me?
One day when the dunes will take the color of the evening and the tired bells will stop playing the dull tones of a return that will no longer happen.
Will you find me?
Surrounded by the storm on each side as far as the eye can go and remaining stoically immobile in a given place.
What would you choose?
Your empty words or my dead gestures?
Shadows behind my skull, breathing the pure air of your last breath.
I finally know what I want.
Lie down in the hay of a summer that no longer exists at this time.
Crushing to dust the dry flowers between the pages of my books.
Walk distant streets in the sunlight.
Catch you by the hand and drag you into the light.
Living for the sake of it.
I do not need a motivation.
Words will have to come out sooner or later.
Or I’ll end up forgetting what it means to say them.

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