Emblemy Do Ro South Park

XMAS ON THE BLOCK

      CHRISTMAS 
           SONG
      maschere incenso e mirra  

Twenty-December solstice ' winter. Twenty grams: the weight of the soul. "... if the mind is the soul and the soul is the world of our experience, as Aristotle says, it scares us. We do not want too much or too many varieties. We want reduced to perception and imagination of earth, no dreams in color. " (RD Laing).

Soul disheartened, soulless words. This is often the 'spirit' of Christmas. But Christmas can be anything, and 'beyond': ultra Even (or Ultra ). The important thing is that dietro lo specchio delle parole ci sia un’anima. Meglio, anima e sangue.

Sì, bloody Christmas (anche un po’ blue & green ). Natale rosso vitale – anche Babbo Natale si è tinto di rosso: che sotto sotto non sia anche lui un ultrà? Carne e sangue: non solo sangue dei vinti (come in molti siamo tuttora – ‘sconfitti’ all’interno della lotta, o teatro, o cosmo, o caos, dell’esistenza), ma sangue dei vincitori .

Natale al sangue (non ‘esangue’). Sang Real. How to Aung San Suu Kyi . Pending the establishment (or restoration), after all the rhetoric, the model of man and woman 'persuaded' - Michelstaedter would say: the ' persuasion' individual (undivided) authentic vs the 'rhetoric ' 's (in) ecutions (split) inauthentic. Thought 'diversified vs the doublethink' unique '. And last but not least, a Christmas eclar, Christic and solar vs Christmas of begging and d'achat.

In short (without psychoanalysis), a a way of life 'real', full of meaning and value, vs falsity, triviality, massification, living pseudo based on modern Platitude of knowledge and a live inauthentic, impersonal, uncreative, such as technology, consumerism and hit and run SUV on the prosthesis-phone glued to ear more insordite.

OK. Ear, eye, good vibrations. Toti and Tata. Titillates you, after so many quisquiglie with two pinzellacchere: a mine, the other, more 'substantial', is to copy and paste the last post by Alessandra Colla, where Christmas is not an attack ... just

Blue in Green. Kind of Blue. The atmosphere became pink. Outside, darkness (the moon slept, the stars were on leave). crowds swarmed to the disco club, dancing, singing, screaming (and yet seemed s'udisse only a thin sound of silence). Scattered in the streets, ran on the walls, slipped on the roofs ... On foot bike, bikes (cars, infantry). Christ and the art of maintaining the soul.

All were touched. Above all, hearts. The air was all soaked, saturated, peroxide. It began to rain. Flood (for the moment only the beginning of a summer squall. But how many clouds on the horizon!) . No siren in the night, just music and dancing. Prepare the fatted calf (even un'insalatona).

The sky brightened. Only a flash. Eclar. The street lights, brighter than usual. The moon appeared on the balcony (but still Florence to sleep). The stars fell below her (not all: there was Florence who dreamed dreams with her. Even those who flirted in the shade of the arcades - the sky.)

rain cats and dogs. Diane stumbled into a tramp (and star watching. The moon, coy). Very nearly fell (the sidewalk, moreover, it was slippery). Did not leave. He went up even more. No one stopped her. He wanted to give it some 'love. But he just caress affectionately charity. knelt down, looked into his eyes. She cried. He smiled. His teeth were whiter than pearls.

Stories for a Winter's Night

narrowed the toilet door peering from side to side to make sure not to be viewed by anyone, and slid quickly down the hall to return in his office. From the largest of the meeting came the hum of celebration of the refreshments offered by the management, but she could not wait to dive back into the silence of his room, away from all shiny hypocrisy that she had to be blessed every December. Patience for the New Year even if he did not remember that he never really enjoyed those opportunities to put the forced gaiety addosso la voglia di scappare. Ma il Natale proprio no. Quello sì che era insopportabile, con le sue troppe luci, i troppi sorrisi, la troppa gentilezza — tutta roba destinata a finire in uno scatolone da portare in cantina e tirar fuori l’anno dopo, alla faccia dei buoni sentimenti.

Finalmente al sicuro dietro la scrivania, contemplò il calendario. Era soltanto il 21: mancavano ancora quattro giorni — lunghi, noiosi e minacciosamente traboccanti di telefonate, messaggi e biglietti d’auguri ai quali le sarebbe toccato rispondere. Qualcuno bussò alla porta, e lei si tuffò dietro il pc per dare l’idea di essere una persona molto impegnata. La porta si aprì lasciando spuntare un paio di teste sorridenti: «Ma come, è ancora qui?!? Le abbiamo portato qualcosina, se proprio non ce la fa a liberarsi e a venire di là con noi…» e una delle segretarie le mise sul tavolo un piatto di stuzzichini e un bicchiere di champagne. Poi scapparono via in un turbinìo di volants e paillettes — un cocktail in ufficio, che occasione di sfoggio…

Si tolse dalla faccia il sorriso di circostanza, e si riadagiò sulla poltrona (ergonomica e lussuosa, servirà pure a qualcosa essere in carriera, no?), sospirando. In realtà di lavoro da fare ne aveva sul serio, e parecchio. Ma in quei giorni prefestivi sembrava che la gente non ci stesse più with the head, and even the simplest things became inexplicably complicated. They all had that look annoying, like children who have also combined a prank or that they were plotting one, but big big ... And there was no corner in a city that was not afflicted by something shiny or red or tinkling, as if the only thought was - should be! - For the strength of Christmas with its accompaniment of sickening rituals.

looked at his watch, and went to open the door, the buzz was muted, and the offices were emptying slowly. Closed up and went to the window: all swarmed down the road toward home, eager to begin the long weekend holiday. To her, to go home, it did not matter then that great - not waiting for anyone, not even a dog or a cat. Not even a plant, to be honest: those who had cared for them to him the porter, who took care to have them find the hall on Friday evening, with shiny leaves and well watered, ready to make a good impression on the weekends. Not all weekend, of course, because he was often away from home, traveling alone or with someone.
If they had pointed out that his independence was heading dangerously to rhyme with loneliness, he would have laughed. He was so good, you. He said. Maybe he really thought: even if she happened rarely think about herself. He stayed a little longer 'to fix the last things, then called a taxi and went down quickly. She was fortunate to find a taxi driver introverted - or just passionate about radio, since the holding in too loud for conversation. During the trip, longer than usual due to traffic, was able to get an education on the solstice in progress - true, December 21 is the winter solstice , and her mind is crowded with legends and equinoxes and vague memories of astronomical geography, so that he found the house almost without realizing it. He paid the taxi driver, who had the courtesy to not wish her anything, and went home.

spent the evening equal to a thousand other nights, kept in the apartment where only denounced the timing the seasons. Midnight came quickly, and then passed, not much was missing when the two decided to go to bed, after the routine of books and films that kept them company when no one was with her, and as he prepared to sleep was attracted by an unusual flickering in the night sky that filled the window the air was cold and clear, and up there on the eleventh floor the night seemed somehow different. Wrapped in a shawl and went out on the terrace, looking curiously at the sky as if it were the first time: the relentless black winter night the stars glimmered uncertain, and the phenomenon of the surprises. Suddenly, with one eye, saw a strange movement, as if by chance we see a shooting star - we are in December, what nonsense! But the strange movement was repeated after a while, and finally managed to figure out: where he had seen a star, now there was only darkness. The idea seemed so absurd that the could not get away from where it was, and stood with his nose up, incredulous to contemplate what must surely have imagined. Here, again, another star was gone. And then, slowly, a third, and again another and another ...

Astonished - no, scared - fished in the pocket of the suit the phone (and who would call? the police? the police? firefighters? who you call when a star disappear? need to make a complaint? ) and saw that now it was nearly three: and meanwhile slowly, slowly, the stars disappeared, leaving the increasingly dark night, dawn seemed so far away and who knows when it arose sun pierce the darkness ... But if the stars were off, it would happen to the sun? is a star, no? It would be turned off? That is, would rise again? Or was he already gone? realized he was shivering, and not just the cold, felt he had his eyes wide with terror, now, and not by the mere effort to see in the dark. He returned hastily, while the brain was throbbing frantically searching for a rational footing which enabled it to contain the panic. The only thing I could think was "light" and suddenly was reminded of the things he had heard on the radio, and also those with the echoes of old stories and memories of evenings at home, she was a child and cards to choose from in the deck were so many of them do not count ...

The sky darkened more slowly but relentlessly, as she put down the tray is empty boxes in the closet, in search of the only remedy that would put things right - maybe ... perhaps?? Finally, from the bottom of a bag of tapes, cards, gifts and trinkets, there emerged a red candle, decorated with bows of green, with a little golden bell 'dented. Holding it in his hands in triumph ran into the kitchen el'accese on the stove, then ran to the terrace and rose high into the sky more and more black. Shivering - and not just because of the cold - as she repeated the gesture to ward off an ancient terror as old: the flame flickered in the night, and his hands were frozen.

Suddenly, with one eye, saw something in the darkness that hung over: turned his head and shot here, where there was darkness, a star shone faintly. Then, after an interminable time, another glow appeared, and then slowly, and another third, and the sky was no longer a thick cloth but a shimmering veil. Now he no longer felt the cold, the frost and the lips are ironed in a spontaneous smile while it remained there, standing on the terrace, waiting for the dawn. Would come, he knew, and after her last sunrise and the sun - a sun entirely new, triumphant in the light that would spazzato via quelle ore cupe, rese ancora più buie dalla paura di una notte senza fine. All’orizzonte, il cielo si tinse lentamente di un lilla tenue che sfumava nel lavanda e poi in un rassicurante rosa pesca. L’alba era prossima, e con essa il nuovo sole.

Sbadigliò: era ora di andare a riposare, perché il giorno dopo sarebbe stato pieno di impegni — scrivere auguri e comprare regali e addobbare la casa. Natale è già qui.

P. S. Buon Natale e Buon Anno Nuovo.