Tag Archive: What I do on holiday

Whirlwind you are, shaking my old leaves

I watch you through the day, silent.

in the early mornings, while you still sleep.

I watch you and think many thoughts, more or less difficult.

I watch you when you drive us away to someplace else in this little holiday taken.

I don’t think I’ll ever tire out.

Colours extravagant and the sharp perfume of lavender.

The cadence of your voice in another tongue.

Earth blood red, diffusing its colour to light brown.

But the sky is down under my feet, the height of my waist.

Blue lavender, as far as I can see.

A sky made of flowers that sways in the evening as the sun leaves us in the shade and the perfume gets sharper.

Ecco fiori per voi:
lavanda fragrante, menta, santoreggia, maggiorana,
il fiorrancio, che va a letto col sole
e con lui s’alza, piangendo: questi son fiori
di mezza estate, e io penso che si diano
a uomini di mezza età.
(William Shakespeare)



Apparently I wrote about something already existing in the realm of touch…
Linds suffers from lack of touch and the definition is quite true and frightening eye-opening in his case.

Touch starvation is actually a thing. The term for it that’s emerging in medical/psych circles is “skin hunger”. We as humans are meant to be much more social- and especially physically social – than we actually are, and Americans in particular are often touch starved because the casual, platonic contact that often happens between friends in other places just. Does not happen here.

There’s a really Puritan idea that’s pervaded our culture, that touch and sex are inherently linked, and it’s doing us a massive disservice. Touch is incredibly important for humans- hugs reduce blood pressure, cuddling releases oxytocin, and babies will straight up DIE without being touched enough because the stimulation releases hormones that are integral to their healthy development.

We were never meant to hold one another at arm’s length, and if you feel you need physical contact, don’t be afraid to ask for it! Hug your mom. Cuddle a friend on the couch. Ask.
There’s a good chance that they need contact just as much as you do.

Because Linds was never held in the arms of his mother and – in a sterile environment such as an orphanage – there is no space to give affection to all.
Linds lives in the shadow of its ghosts and I could almost pinpoint with certainty the moment in his life when he realizes that the touch of someone can happen and he discovers the hunger for it.
He doesn’t expressly like touch but turns out to be dependent from it and has the knowledge that touch is not necessarily tied to the deepest feelings.

If we take as true the statements above is incredibly sad to think that ‘his touch rations’ are derived mainly from encounters with people who do not form any deep imprint in his life.
I shudder at the part

babies will straight up DIE without being touched enough because the stimulation releases hormones that are integral to their healthy development’

Somehow I created a ‘monster’…in fact Linds survives his infancy alone with the help (damnation?) of his own IQ.
There’s acually a place in ASTTL, in the very early chapters were in a flashback Linds says ‘Since then, the brat was dead.  And basically I think he had never been born.’
My skin is actually crawling now the more I think about the internal layered structure of his psyche.
As a baby his thoughts were already complex enough to instinctually understand the magnitude of betrayal he was victim of.
Linds could have died not from frostbite but for heartbreak.
He could have stopped fighting for his life.
He choosed not to.
He is strong enough as a ‘brat’ to say on his own: ‘Fuck YOU! I’m going to live, to thrive, to suffer AND rise from the mud.’

And now I see him with new eyes and a newfound love…as someone would say GO LINDOR! LoL

Ovviamente sono di nuovo in modalità ricerca e costruzione…
La vacanza era già finita ma adesso il mio cervello si è risvegliato dalla pausa forzosa e non c’è più pace per una come me che scrive pure di notte, nella vasca da bagno e sopra il trono di ceramica all’occorrenza.
Ho progetti per tutte le tasche…dalla shot di chiusura ad un mondo musicale che mi ha tenuto compagnia quattro anni, al lavoretto dimenticato, alla saga megalomane, alla storia epico/medievale senza capo ne coda e perché no, magari anche un piccolo raccontino sperimentale.
In questo momento sono fissa sulla saga megalomane di LL.
Sto studiando di nuovo come una matta; oltre le 25 (25!!!) pagine di bozza della prima idea, dentro il documento ci sono altre storie correlate.
Perché i miei file doc all’inizio sono il caos completo: articoli psicologici, frasi interessanti, citazioni, pezzi musicali, moodboards e spezzoni di cento parole.
Man a mano che scrivo ‘sul serio’ il malloppo scivola sempre più in basso e si rimpicciolisce.

Per darvi un’idea: oggi a pranzo mi sono cimentata con il Myers-Briggs.
Prima ho scoperto di essere un INTP, poco sorpresa dopo aver letto la descrizione.
Poi ho fatto provare prima Linds (ENTJ) e poi Michelle (ESFJ), entrambi spiccicati all’etichetta.
Non avevo mai provato prima (ne conoscevo il significato di queste personalità) ma a quanto pare non ho bisogno di farmi pare mentali per creare un personaggio.

Trovo che il sistema MBTI sia un pochetto limitativo (16 tipi di personalità solo?!)
L’unica che mi chiedo è: ma se chi scrive è abituato ad essere ‘empatico’ (caratteristica propria dell’autore abituato ad usare la prima persona come me) cioè bloccare le proprie idee/visioni del mondo per dare spazio a quelle del personaggio fittizio.
Come fa lo stesso ad avere un solo tipo di personalità?
Sotto un certo punto di vista mi sembra una magagna grande come una casa questa…o probabilmente sono affetta da doppia/tripla/eccetera personalità xD

Remember when i took you
up to the top of the hill?
We had our knives drawn.
They were as sharp
as we were in love.
if god crossed us
we’d take all his drugs,
burn his money
and his house down,
and wait for the fire to spread.
but sometimes hate is not enough
to turn this all to ashes.
Together as one
against all others
break all of our wings to
make sure it crashes
We’re running to the
edge of the world
Running, running away
We’re running to the edge of the world
I don’t know if the world will end today
I had no choice,
I erased the debt of our family,
let you say goodbye
with lips like dynamite.
and everyone
turned their backs
because they knew
when we held on tight
to each other,
we were something fatal,
that fell into the wrong hands.

Why am I supposed to be on holiday and have to fuckin’ write a whole chapter on a paper napkin for sudden insane inspiration? UoU
God I need my keyboard…please be a darling and send it to me before I run out of napkins and I have to hunt for toilet paper and bills.

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