January 27, 2008


i simply cannot resist attempting to tell the world about vinicio caposella. when i first began pen-palling with fabio, i asked him about music, and vinicio was his first suggestion. this was probably about the third sign i knew i would love fabio. (the first and second of course being that he had long hair, and spoke italian- HA!; he was a wonderful story-teller and incredibly intelligent - is this more than two?)

anyhow, vinicio capossela is an amazingly talented musician that really can play about anything -- he's constantly experimenting in his music. a wonderful storyteller. and he has finally been recognized in america on NPR!! so here is an interview; it's short, only 12 minutes. he plays a new song about america, and there is a translator for those that need it.

enjoy this interview!

January 25, 2008


remember, i'm still posting new work on flickr.

some polaroids

January 21, 2008


It’s an ache that is impossible to satiate. It’s a longing that embodies me, that I cannot escape. It seeps into each pore of my skin, it gloves me. I slide into your world without an escape. How do I amend this gaping hole of salty water, these countless kilometers, the visions I have in your kitchen? I cannot be healed here.

I surround myself with pictures, maps, I look at you all the time. And I think of you constantly. Not just you, the entirety. I wake, disoriented. There is no aroma of tomatoes boiling, swimming in a bath of the purest extra virgin olive oil. There is no sun, and you are not next to me in bed. My body aches.

Dici: Non piangere. Che c'è?
Dico: Non lo so. Ti posso vedere. Vedo tutta la casa e tutte le cose dentro. How we share the colperta on our bed -- our sofa bed. How I like to wrap it around me, like a mummy, my feet tucked in all warm. But this isn't how you do this, which causes a problem. We're close in this little bed and if I tuck my feet in, yours fall out. How if you don't place your arm just right, I get a crick in my neck. And all of this matters now because why?
Because I see all the house, I see me there, and I am here eating a bowl of berries. And you are there eating primo: spaghetti con pomodori. Secondo: forse carne, forse pesce. Poi, formaggio. E poi: una sigaretta.

E cosí: abitudine.

in my view

you're never not there

sta preparando la sigaretta, caserta dicembre 2007

January 20, 2008

a comparison

just as wine's flavor is altered by the soil the grapes grow in, the same happens to tomatoes. i simply cannot make spaghetti con pomodori freschi here. not good like there. it's impossible. it's maddening. i eat and live vicariously through telephone conversations -- "what did you eat today for pranzo?".

right now, napoli is 60 degrees, and right now we are 5. but that's not totally fair. it's 9:15 am here, and 3:15 pm there. nevertheless, this is our upcoming week compared:

this is not to complain. i think in winter it is much easier to miss italy (i miss it always though). the winters here are terrible and the sun is so rarely out (ironically, though, we have sun now at 5 degrees). if one wants to make themselves feel colder, simply convert our degrees to how italians see it: celsius. right now, italy is 16 degrees and we are -15. -15 sounds really really cold.

remember that i am posting new images on flickr. you can see them here.