I love storms.

I love to stare at them.
Because they recall strong and deep sensations of danger.

I like to observe seagulls while they fly against a strong wind, and challenge it with their peerage.
Yesterday I saw a lot of them that was doing so, and the wing was amazingly strong.
But I hadn’t the time to take pictures.

I hate this things, I would like to have more free time but in this period I can’t stop.
Never.

However I was walking slow, challenging the wind myself, and letting it put away my bad thoughts, and my past.
What I like of this period of my life is that for the first time I’m starting to live the present, and sometimes the future.

That’s important.
For my whole life I was stuck in my past.
Depressed people lives in their past.

Neurotic and Anxious people lives the present.

Maybe one day I will become a happy person?
I’m starting to look into the future.
And I like to do so.
I also like what I see.

When I think about my future, now, I look at the sky and I dip into the light.
I leave the sun impress my eyes, like a film while taking a picture with a photo-camera.
The sensation is good, and gets my eyes dazzled for some seconds.

While I close my eyes, I walk straight, blind.
And I start to elaborate the information that the sun gave me.
While doing so, I try to decipher the symbols my dazed eyes’ background.
And in this moment, I see my future.

Some weeks ago, I was thinking about how much I am changing.
Thinking about myself some years ago it seemed a Revolution to me.

The point is… that I’m always myself.
I’m not changed.

Thinking about myself, some years ago…
I’m just more determined.
I know what I want.
And I’m ready to do anything to obtain it.

Now I know where, for me,
is the right place to be,
in the right moment.
And I feel ready to shoot.

Isn’t that what I already wrote about photography?
Doesn’t life itself work like that?

In the end…
… I love the quiet sunsets after a storm.

It’s a lot of time that I don’t blog…
The reason, mostly, is that I don’t have time to do so.

However I have to admit that…
… when in a particular moment of your life, you don’t find time for yourself …
… this is probably a thing you should look into.

And that’s what I’m doing today, reading my paper-written notes, my “to do” lists, and trying to give them a “when” and a “why”.
It’s interesting to see the evolution that besides inside this feelings and writings about my thought of that moment.

Because I don’t have the time to publish this stuff with the correct date, I will just write it down here and translate it when needed.
I’ll use a separator to make understand that time is passed from a note to the next.

In the future, I will be more careful about my feelings.
Stopping to care about them is a bad sign.

---

In this years I became a bastard.

When this happened?
When I stopped to care about the rest of the world?
I have always been a kind and generous person…

The perception of me in the eyes of the other people is horrible,
and it makes increase my sadness.

---

I ask myself… “what should I do?”
I just stare here… to watch myself in the mirror, like if I’m waiting for something.
What I’m waiting for?
What should I do?
Who should ripple me?

Is it real that something from the sky will come and pull me out from this mess?
Or I’m just deceiving myself for the umpteenth time?

---

You know…
In this days I watch myself in the mirror, incapable to understand what I want to do.
Something changed in the last months …

I’m unable to recognize myself in what I see.
The person that I known or that I believed to known.
I would like to have the time to stop a bit, and to think about what I’m doing.
But this master in photography is killing me, and work fills up everything else.

But at the end I understand… that this is just my way of living.
It’s my entire life that I fill up every free moment, so I can’t stop.
Am I doing this so I can’t think?
If that’s true, I’m not different from the people I hate.

I would have a lot to give to this world.
But I’m unable to take it out.

Once upon a time I was unable to do that, but at least people believed in me because I was transmitting to them beautiful sensations with the energy I had inside.
Now that my heart begun a infertile piece of ice, people that surrounds me can’t see what there is inside it.
I feel incredibly alone and misunderstood, in an way that, besides for the past, I can’t tolerate.

I feel like I arrived nearly to the end… but I don’t know of what.
I feel that I nearly finished the cards to play with, and I also know that someday someone will knock and ask If I won or loose.

---

When I’m alone, withdrawn in my thoughts …
… I strive big and high things, huge projects, I feel like I can brake the world in two pieces and do whatever of my life.

When I go outside, the world around me corrupts my soul and my mind.
The only thing I can think about is to touch the ass of the girls around me, or to do nasty things with them.

I still have to work on my will.

---

Now that I start to understand what I want,
all takes shape and get sharper.

The importance of the things around me changes,
and also the one of the people.

---

…
By the moment that when I obtain what I need
I stop to be interested in it, and to crave it
which sense haves to shake my tail like a fish
that’s suffocating outside his bowl?

---

I wish I could dedicate to myself.
Maybe, it’s the only well-advised thing I could do and that could make me live better.

I want to start talking about the films that I liked much in my life.

Vanilla Sky is not my favourite, but inside it I found some concepts, and some meanings, that made me grieve over and move deeply.

In a moment of my life like this, I understand how much things that I look, listen at, and feel, involves me.
And how much they influence my way of thinking and the way I act.
And also the way I dream.

That’s and acknowledgement of weakness for me, because I always tried to made me of myself and nothing else.
I always tried to close into meditation, deep comprehension of my mind, to avoid things to influence me and take me out of my road.

Now I’m changing.
The master in photography that I’m making…
… forced me to open my mind and put down my guard.

That’s quotes from Vanilla Sky:

That’s true also for me…

I try to say to myself what to dream, constantly.

But it never works.

The funny thing is that I wrote my last post some days ago spontaneously, but three weeks after I saw again this film, writing down these quotes for a future use.

Now my question should be…
That proofs the influence that what I look, like films, influences me?
Or it just proofs that this film made me move deeply because who did it was very similar to my way of acting?

Damn it…
This way to put a point:
“Now my question should be…”
makes me think about Matrix.

…

A volte sogno così forte
che non riesco più
a distinguere i sogni
dalla realtà.

…

Altre volte mi ritrovo
a sognare ad occhi aperti,
alterando la realtà fino a
farla diventare impossibile.

…

Mi domando qual’è il senso,
di questa interminabile
serie di noiose novità
e scontate rivelazioni.

…

Mi domando chi sono.

…

Often I stop and think,
about art and what it means for me.

The last time I did that, it was on the Venice Biennale 2007.

I thought for months to write a post about it, with also some photos…
But at the end the denial overwhelmed this desire.

It was… crap.
Everywhere.
And they call it… art.
And that made me so angry.

Of course there was also nice things to see, nice ideas, but it was very hard to find it in the middle of the crap.
Paradoxically the best artistic creations,
in the last ten years,
are the ones just created for taunt.

My relationship with art have always been very complicated.

Often I have great ideas.
But this creative rush, is trashed in the instant in which I muse on how much people already did beautiful things and to the fact that they are just forgotten in dusty museums or libraries.

Other times, I stop cause I feel that this inspiration is coming from my anger, or my frustration, and not from the divine.

Other times, I just pull-out everything cause I ask myself…
What does it mean for me?
Who needs art?
World is full of wars, hunger, hate.
Why should I squirm like a worm in the mud waiting to be stomped?

So I just throw away everything,
creating another abortion,
trashing my élans, like they call them,
and turn off the light.

But after a while, I feel a strong uneasiness inside me.

So I open my eyes again.
I can’t stay without my awareness, I’m an observer.

It’s just my heart that pushes me to do all this things.
On the one hand.. I have it in my mind, on the other hand… I can’t take it out.
I’m like an explosion, but all the symptoms are the symptoms of an implosion.
That turns me crazy.

Art should be something pragmatic, today.
Something useful to people.

I feel that the best artists are the one that conveyed their experiences to others.
That makes me think again about Giorgio Gaber, but there are many others.
That, probably, is the secret of the future of success in art.

But before you can convey your experience to other persons, you have to do your own experience.
Like Gaber, I don’t change much, I change slowly.
I distrust other people.
Especially people that are certain of themselves.

Here probably is my failure.
I’m not able to teach, to share my experience with others making it useful.

That’s fault of my arrogance, and my diffidence.

I’m still not ready.
I’m still a zero.

It’s hard to fit… to arrange… a life.
To completely change road when you start to know the one you’re walking on.

I passed my entire life to relinquish everything,
like in a strange inspiration of asceticism,
to find myself.

But now I have to start to have ambition,
taking everything,
and the more I can,
for me.

That’s not only the derail I was searching for,
that’s a real sheer.

I passed many years to dream,
sure that my dreams was just… the real world.
Now I feel the necessity to make those dream come true,
to make them the reality of my life.

I need to feel,
and to be,
someone.

Isn’t that… human?

Unfortunately,
every élan, hope, push,
that I have
dies inevitably in the exact moment in which I realize that success is done of
endless, pathetic, daily grinds.

That’s my main problem,
I am a forefront man,
I am a racer born for the short distances,
a naturally martyr.

I should have died younger
-when I had the occasion to do so-
following the ideas I believed in,
before comprehending they was utopy.

This damn society ripped out from me the ability once I had,
to express myself,
banishing me to a sterile and repetitive work.

What should I do?
Who am I?
What do I want?

Once again, I have to start again, from the beginning.
But this time I want to start from me,
and to be the subject of my present.
Of my work.

Maybe I should learn from the wind.

 

Some days ago I was wandering around Venice with no destination.
It was a wonderful wintry day, with a bright sun and clear sky.
So bright and so clear that I didn’t take any photo, for the fear to stain it.

I was very peacefully, and pleased.
So much that I was thinking… on how much time I passed to lie to myself.

Ofter we achieve consciousness of our real position when we stop for a while, watching ourselves from another point of view, like in a happy or quiet moment.

So I was wandering in the light, like in an ancient portrait of a unmanned Venice with no people or tourist around, thinking about my departure planned for the last days of 2007.

 

 

Am I departing, or am I escaping?

People face off every day the monotony of their life with regular resignation.

The choices that I’m doing, bring me somewhere else.
Anywhere else “somewhere” is, I hope it is somewhere very far from here.

To derail is the only solution.

All the strains that I will do from now and in the upcoming years will be spent with the objective of take-out my creativity from the barren desert where I jailed her.

It will be a long and hard journey, but until now I don’t believe that anything else would worth my time.

Often, I feel sick for long periods of time.

When I do, I try to understand what is hurting me, brooding gently the disease to observe it better.

I can pass days like that, silent and steady like a boa constrictor digesting his pray; or wandering around my dark house like a sleepwalker.

Often enough, I arrive to the conclusion that there is just no answer to the question.
Of course if there is a question.

So, I pass some time watching myself in the eyes, through a mirror.
That’s not the answer, but it’s enough for me.

Asking myself, what I really want.
Is enough.

How long is the road, how much time will it take, where does it leads up?
And when, is the moment to turn?

A man should pass his entire life to hunt his dreams …
… isn’t that the only way to live a dream life?

Once again, life it’s like photography:
to be,
in the right place,
at the right time,
ready to shot.

Sometimes things happens fast,
so fast that you can’t handle them.

Life is slippery, and it’s hard to catch the occasions you would need.
That task, requires
the speed of the snake,
the stealth of the jaguar,
and the patience of the spider.

It’s hard, to fix a moment.
Like a snapshot of life, itself.
And, even if you do, in the meantime things are changed again.

The only solution is… to anticipate them.
One would need a prediction to keep it up.

But if you keep your eyes on the future,
at the same time,
you can’t keep them on the past.

What does it mean to walk a road without knowing from where do you came from?

Tonight, like many other nights, I didn’t sleep.

Heavy, huge, thoughts.
Numerous, like all the things I should do an rest undone on my desks.
Tonight, I thought such strong that blood came out from my nose.

Nigthmares are scary when they catch you in the middle of the night.
But what you will do if they take you when you are awake?

You can’t wake up,
you can’t fall asleep.
You can’d do nothing,
but cry.

The past is still hunting me.
And I’m out of breath.

I wish I would be like the air.