L’amore non si manifesta col desiderio di fare l’amore (desiderio che si applica a una quantità infinita di donne) ma col desiderio di dormire insieme (desiderio che si applica ad un’unica donna).
Milan Kundera – L’insostenibile leggerezza dell’essere
Jonathan Safran Foer, Everything is illuminated
Cosa si può desiderare più che vivere come quest’uomo?
He visited lesbian dives, piano bars, and the Harlem and Greenwich Village homosexual underground with a wealthy friend from Kansas City, Richard Stern. They would drive from Boston to New York in a reckless fashion.
He picked up boys in steam baths in Vienna, and moved in a circle of exiles, homosexuals, and runaways. There, he met Ilse Klapper, a Jewish woman fleeing the country’s Nazi government. The two were never romantically involved, but Burroughs married her, in Croatia, against the wishes of his parents, in order to allow her to gain a visa to the United States. She made her way to New York City, and eventually divorced Burroughs, although they remained friends for many years
In 1951, Burroughs shot and killed his wife in a drunken game of “William Tell” at a party above the American-owned Bounty Bar in Mexico City. He spent 13 days in jail before his brother came to Mexico City and bribed Mexican lawyers and officials, which allowed Burroughs to be released on bail while he awaited trial for the killing, which was ruled culpable homicide.
During his later years in Kansas, Burroughs also developed a painting technique whereby he created abstract compositions by placing spray paint cans in front of, and some distance from, blank canvasses, and then shooting at the paint cans with a shot gun. These splattered canvasses were shown in at least one New York City gallery in the early 1990s.
give me a reckless life
Oggi mi metto a studiare sul serio.
No, sul serio.
Intanto beccatevi questa citazione di facile riconoscimento (riconoscenza?) che volevo mettere qui da tempo:
In case the few of you were wondering, I’m not.
I went to Czech Republic for a week during Easter holidays to have some concerts with my choir. Our director studied there, and his two big teachers are now 80+, but their choirs are two of the best in the country, so we did four concerts together joining our forces in the “Singing Triangle”. Severáček and Motýli Šumperk have such perfect sound and technique, we have learned very much from them in these days. Next stop: The 8th World Symposium on Choral Music in Copenhagen!
Otherwise: I decided, since I’m thinking about going to university in Australia, that I need to read some good classic English literature, so I investigated some anthology in the library and took Pride and Prejudice, Robinson Crusoe and the complete dramatic work of Samuel Beckett.
In the near future I’d like to get my hands on:
-Saul Bellow, Humboldt’s gift
-some William Saroyan work, such as Life’s days or The human comedy
And that’s how far as I went with the 10 minutes time I had to research. Someone’s got any suggestion? Please?
PS: Hope you guys had a wonderful Easter and that you’re all OK :*
ETA: SOME SUPERNATURAL GOODNESS, for a change!
*flails and dies*
24 days till next episode!
“The day I came of swimming age, which, to Mother’s distress, Mamajii claimed was seven, he brought me down to the beach, spread his arms seaward and said, “This is my gift to you.”
“And then he nearly drowned you,” claimed Mother.”
“In many ways, running a zoo is a hotelkeeper’s worst nightmare. Consider: the guests never leave their rooms; they expect not only lodging but full board; they receive a constant flow of visitors, some of whom are noisy and unruly. One has to wait until they saunter to their balconies, so to speak, before one can clean their rooms, and then one has to wait until they tire of the view and return to their rooms before one can clean their balconies; and there is much cleaning to do, for the guests are an unhygeninc as alcoholics. Each guest is very particular about his or her diet, constantly complains about the slowness of the service, and never, ever, tips. To speak frankly, many are sexual deviants, either terribly repressend and subject to explosions of frenzied lasciviousness or openly depraved, in either case regularly affronting management with gross outrages of free sex and incest.”
“Tigers are very dangerous.” Father shouted. “I want you to understand that you are never – under any circumstances – to touch a tiger, to pet a tiger, to put your hands throught the bars of a cage, even to get close to a cage. Is that clear ? Ravi ?”
Ravi nodded vigorously.
“Piscine ?”
I nodded even more vigorously.
He kept his eyes on me.
I nodded so hard I’m surprised my neck didn’t snap and my head fall to the floor.
Penso seriamente che Leonard Woolf, nei diari di sua moglie, abbia semplicemente TAGLIATO fuori i pezzi in cui parlava di Vita Sackville West. E questo mi fa incazzare non poco. Dopotutto Vita è stata l’amore della vita (haha) di Virginia, come se non più di Leonard, e mi pare oltremodo scorretto nonchè infantile/immaturo/da coglioni agire in questo modo. Vabbè, povero piccolo orgoglio virile ferito da uomo frustrato e che non ha capito proprio un cazzo di sua moglie.
Baf, Leonard, che sfigato sei.
(oltretutto col suo agire mi fa anche mancare materiale per il mio lavoro di maturità, visto che l’unico diario che ho a disposizione qui è quello censurato curato da lui.)
Gesù guarda indietro dal Gestemani
“Per me era diverso. Mi chiamavano ‘Jeshua dalle mille domande’. Tutto scatenava i miei interrogativi. Perché non si poteva lavorare di Sabato ? Perché non si poteva mangiare carne di maiale ? Perché Dio punisce invece di perdonare ? Raramente le risposte mi soddisfacevano. Il nostro maestro si trincerava dietro un definitivo ‘È la legge !’.”
“Il tuo primogenito è morto ? Amalo ancora di più. E soprattutto ama gli altri, quelli che ti restano, e che lo sappiano, da te ! In fretta ! È la sola cosa che ci insegna la morte: amare è urgente.”
“Avevo messo in pratica un nuovo insegnamento tratto dai miei viaggi nel pozzo senza fondo: amare l’altro fino al punto di accettarlo anche nella sua stupidità.”
“Non cedevo. E neppure indietreggiavo. Ma avevo paura di avere paura. Avevo paura di deludermi, di non mostrarmi all’altezza del mio compito.”
tratto da “Il vangelo secondo Pilato”, Eric-Emmanuel Schmitt
-Dites donc, monsieur Falamoise, Lamafoise, Mafaloise !” cria Foucarmont, qui trouva très spirituel de dèfigurer ainsi à l’infini le nom du jeune homme.
Mais La Faloise se fâcha. Il parla de ses ancêtres en bégayant. Il menaça d’envoyer une carafe à la tête de Foucarmont. Le compte de Vandeuvres du intervenir pour lui assurer que Foucarmont était très drôle. Tout le monde riait, en effet. Cela ébranla le jeune homme ahuri, qui voulut bien se rasseoir; et il mangeat avec une obéissance d’enfant, lorsque son cousin lui ordonnait de manger, en grossissant la voix.
Francesi ubriachi a festini borghesi affollati FTW
