March 15, 2008

la pasta part 2

la pasta part 1

i am noticing a frequency with which i am preparing and consuming pasta. nearly every day. which is actually quite a significant milestone. somehow this signifies becoming italian to me now. when i go into the kitchen and wonder what to fix, and it becomes second nature to look for tomatoes, pull out the olive oil, and decide between spaghetti or rigatoni (which is my current favorite shape).

i want to tell you everything in italiano.

March 9, 2008

Plagued with memories I’d rather forget (like when I listen to The Smiths’ Louder than Bombs)

And you said to me:
“For this reason I say there is nosense in world and for this reason we are able to create what we want for us it is the story of infinity space there is no center so everyplace is in the same moment the center and the opposite of it so the only thing to do is to give our sense”

And now I know:
All that time I was anticipating grief and I watched you experience loss. And now, months later, I realize my own loss, a quasi experience, because I can’t really admit what happened. Maybe I will understand with time. I am myself and the opposite, I am space and not space. And there is space and nothing between us. I exist here and there and maybe also nowhere.

I am lost.

I wonder for how long I could float at sea, bobbing about, caressed by water licking my skin. How I become enveloped, encased. Every inch of me is covered in that liquidy ambiguity. How the waves will hold me, rock me, lullaby me into a peaceful space that has left my soul (I fear for how long). To be lost and to be comforted at the same time: this must be what I had needed, what I still need. When Fabio and I laid in bed, we would spoon and rock ourselves, swaying back and forth. It was innate, intuitive; our bodies moved involuntary into our rhythms. It wasn’t sexual.

In his loss and my own isolation, we existed insieme. Adesso, sono io da sola con nessuno per consolazione. I’ve left myself vulnerable without a way reclaim my potere. If I could just see the sea again, how it lasts for infinity, how it never fails me. How something doesn’t leave me. You said che mi vuoi bene, ma perchè?? Invece, sono confusa, sono smarrita. Non vivo in realtà. Rimango nell’abisso. Senza l’abbraccio del mare o di te.

March 1, 2008

non sapevo

forse io non ho capito; forse non sapevo dove sono stata