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2001-10-14 19:06:08 (UTC)

thoughts on florence, art , weed, stuff

so today i ventured out of my apartment for the first time
in a few days, i was crazy sick, with a fever and flu and
all that jazz... so i went for one of my walks, which is
apparently taking on the same theme as my treks to astoria
park... i walk through florence and end up at the river,
the bridges, so anyway i was going for my
walk and was listening to that opera song on the sopranos
soundtrack, and was thinking about this book i just
finished reading, called the sixteen pleasures. and in it,
this nun says to the main character that the things you
want most in your life are the ones you cant have. that it
just works out that way, and i was thinking about what i
want most in my life, and i saw this couple, on bikes,
riding by one of my favorite parks to walk through, it has
a carosel in the middle and a little soccer field that dirty kids
are always fuckin
around in... anyway, the couple on bikes, with tow little
kids, a little boy who was sitting in a seat in front of
his daddy, and a little girl who was sitting with the
mother. and they were smiling, and slowly biking through
this beautiful park, and i thought, that THATs what i want
in life. and that is always my big fear, that my life will
not lead to that. to love, to marriage, to kids. and the
being a writer thing doesnt come into play here because
that is what i AM, its not what i want.
the next moment i am summoned to a convertible by an
Italian in Gucci shades requesting directions. "Signorina!"
he then asks for the time, how long ive been living here,
my name, and what i am doing tonight. "che cosa fai
stasera" cant they come up with better things to say? this
one didnt speak english either, so i told him iw as going
for a walk BY MYSELF, ciao, and dont get lost. after a few
minutes i thought that i must not be any kind of romantic
at all. he just wanted to go for a cappuccino. if i was
really open to love i would have slipped into that
convertible and have beep open to some nice little coffe
shop dimly lit, while he kissed my hand and said nice
things, teaching me italian phrases. but no. no i would
rather wander around, think about shit, look at everything,
and end up on the bridge watching the sunset and writing in
my journal. i dont know. at least speak some english so im
not the one doing all the work. all italian men are covered
in a layer of slime. usually if any guy talks to me, a
layer of slime films over him, but these italians are just
grease ridden upon first sight
the water, the river Arno, kind of reminds me of the
Hellgate water. Maybe that is why i like it so much, why i
always end up there?Maybe i just feel this way about all
bodies of water? some part flow in different directions,
some parts perfetly still, some parts glitter, today it
was not so hazy so i could see the mountains in the pink
part of the sky. My cousin Marcella, in abruzzi said firenze is a
lively city, i guess she was
saying this compared to orsogna, where she lives. i guess
the slowness there is of a different sort and speed of what
it is here. i think she would have a heart attack if she
ever came to new york.
maybe what weed does, is it slows you down. slows you down
so you can oncentrate on one thing at a time, of the
interconnections of one thing,one line of thought, exhaust
all of one things possibilities, or just skim the surface,
however you would like to look at it. the speed of things
is very important. being here, in this city, i have slowed
down. and i think this is because the city itself is just
one huge museum. when i first got here, NYU gave us a
booklet warning us about the plumbing system that dates
back to the renassaince, and i laughed thinking it was a
joke but now i think it was in all seriousness. i think
EVERYTHING dates back to the renassaince. everything is
unlike anything else around it, all original art, the
architecture of the streets, the houses, with their
shutters sticking outwards and sideways and all sorts of
ways, the statues adorning nearly everything, the
cobblestone streets and the streets that are not
cobblestone have intricate designs in their large slabs of
stone, the multitude of churches, huge ancient churches
within them more statues and frescos and paintings and
graves, graves of bishops of cardinals michelangelo dante
leonardo carvaggio galileo on and on... and almost all the
streets are named after artists, writers thinkers... the
street where i live was called Via Machiavelli before it
was changed to Via Masaccio.

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