memoirs

I am inclined these days to look more into the past than future and to really dig details that would somewhat reclaim the steps I’ve made to get where I am today. It’s quite an interesting exercise  that of digging through the sinuosities of what I like to call, a very selective memory. Remembering not the big things, not the holidays and the major events – but the unexpected sweet nothings that make our everything tremble. How that candy tasted. Or how you scraped your knee and blood tickled. Or how one Christmas morning you snuggled a stuffed animal and promised to always be there.

And I’ve always had this fear, of forgetting. And being forgotten.

And sometimes other people’s memories can be as endearing as our own.

next google search: PETA porn?

I want to start by saying that I’ve always loved animals and been a keen supporter of their rights. Since I was a kid I had dogs, cats, parrots, fish, turtles and even hedgehogs and sparrows. At the age other kids have no idea how to use their forks and knives I’d feed every stray dog on my street, take them to the vet and name their pups. I don’t know if being an only child had anything to do with it, but I always been empathetic and reactive to the needs of any animal. I hated the mean boys throwing stones at cats just for fun,and quite often I ‘d start proper fights with double-my-size punks. Not to mention ohhh, the number of tears I spent on Black Beauty and Lassie. That makes me wonder if I am a hypocrite though when savouring my chicken barbecue or smoked fish or when I am buying those lovely, to-die-for pair of leather boots. Probably there is a balance to be kept.

But why did I start mumbling about this? Because today I’ve been reading about PETA’s intention of launching a pornography site and making use of the latest domain .xxx. Now, I understand the need of diversity in voicing concerns and delivering messages to the people. I also like to think that I am not a prude and therefore I have nothing against the Icann’s decision ( the Internet Corporation for Assigned Names and Numbers) of approving the .xxx domain. Actually I think it will have some positive outcome in a greater future,  demarcating the different profiles of the www. I also don’t deny the need (?) of porn in this world and yes, sex will always sell or at least draw attention. We got used with ads, be it jeans, perfumes, cars, electrics, chocolate, makeup or toilet paper, to use suggestions if not big bulks of eroticism. Because it’s fun, it’s alluring, it touches that playful side all of us have.

Buuuuuuuuuuut! PETA is about vegan diets, stopping cruelty, making long term changes. That they’ve always had their own ways of making themselves heard is of no doubt. That they’ve always had a halo of fray  surrounding their actions is a given. That they want to draw attention through pornography, beats me. I don’t even see it as a disingenuous strategy. I see it as leading to nothing. I cannot stop but thinking of the hard  excited guys going on .xxx sites, looking for a quick and handy ( no pun intended) solution to a basic need, accessing a Jenna Jameson vid and sighing ‘awwww, the poor bunny – leave him alone you bastards!’ and then getting up and emptying the fridge of all the pork salami and roast beef their wives kindly left for them.

The idea is not even shocking, it’s simply ridiculous. And makes me, as an animal rights supporter think that my strategy of fist fighting at the age of 7 was a tiny bit wittier.

 

As I was walking yesterday with my BfF toward St John’s Wood, we saw in this random courtyard a family of goats. And they were having a blast.  Who said London isn’t full of surprises?

in the middle of our life

What can be nicer than having a stroll, in the middle of the day, in the middle of the week, with no pressure of having to check the time.  You go down the small side streets, not caring where your feet are taking you, just savouring the looks of the trees and the leafs and the houses you know you won’t afford for the next 10 years at least.  Gazing at the people passing can be quite fun too, colourful people, serious people, important people,  people in suits or tracksuits, people enjoying coffees, people checking their Ipads, people buying flowers, people carrying Tesco bags or Chanel bags, people watching you watch them.  Everything buzzing, everything humming, everything moving. Fruits falling the trees, squirrels running around, overcrowded buses – so good not being on one of them. Doesn’t even matter you don’t know the name of the street. Or how exactly to get back home. What matters is that for a few hours you said ‘in your face’ to obsessing over social media, marketing strategies, page rankings, SEO, layouts, payments to be done, accounts, calculations, laundry, taking the rubbish out, making that phone call, future or past.

Though it’s funny to realise what a guilty pleasure, what a hedonistic treat having a stroll in the middle of the day, in the middle of the week, has become. And after having discovered this site, though nice, I know that I don’t need to give any advice to any future me, I already know the basic things.

 

 

 

wake me up not when September’s gone, but now

The morass of meanings that my mind creates can only be overcome by stronger independent images, be it icon, index or symbol.  Rather than thinking of  how or where this summer has gone already, I prefer looking at what it has left behind and slowly get ready for taking over the world. 

 

isn’t that nice?

One of the things I love most about London is that you never know what to expect. That it has an intrinsic chemistry and  dynamic, organic in it’s manifestations and essential for my mental health. That the ‘hot spots’ can be created at any street corner and found in any little park. That people seem to have a joy of spontaneity. In clothes, makeup, hairdos, mimics, actions and reactions. That no one looks at you twice, not in a judgemental way.  That you can get out of the house with the set goal of getting this and that from the corner store and finding a dozen other things on your way there. Or that you can go for a picnic and see one of the most touching, endearing concerts of your life.  Because is simple and has rhythm and you look at the artists faces and you see uncomplicated faces.

And this is how you know that maybe you are in the right place for the time being.

 

 

simple and sweet

Going on the South Bank last weekend I had the nice surprise of seeing this Lion and Unicorn installation which I found to be a breath of fresh air, simple and genuine, endearing to a certain extent.

And moreover, there were so many people to look at, my camera couldn’t keep up with my greedy eyes.

 

 

Wonder what this weekend’s gonna bring.  Because I’m not holding my breath for the weekdays..

 

 

proletarian mumbles

Summer in Britain is like a picture of Iggy Pop wearing a top – very rare and precious. Something that we all heard it’s possible, we day dream of it happening, but it’s never there. The grey London makes me sigh at my wardrobe, at my bags, at my canvas shoes and ultimately at myself. I need some sun and I need it now! The grey however ceased being just a colour and has become nowadays a way of living, a way of getting by, a way of being. Why am I saying that? Because most people I’ve talked to recently seem to be in a ‘awaiting approval’ phase – aka I want to do something with my life, I just don’t know what. Rings any bell? You see them in their 30s , they pass by us everyday, most of them have quite a few talents, some can be quite witty, the majority have degrees and silly pieces of papers stating what social role they should play by, but all of them feel as if they’d spent most of their lives in a train station, waiting for their train. But it can be rather tricky jumping on a train when you’re not sure about your destination.

Most of these people know for sure what they don’t want to do . Which you’d think it’d make it easier to get to the bottom of their call. Well, it’s not. Because what they do is they waste so much of themselves, here and there and everywhere, leaving bits of patience and exuberance and high hopes and personal goals everywhere they happen to go,  so at the end of the day, at the end of the 1st year, then the second, then the 3rd, when they think they can go on like this for maybe a couple more, they discover in the end that maybe 10 years have passed, and well, then..everything’s grey. Not dark, nor bright. Just simply grey.  And they sit on a bench in a train station in the grey Britain wondering when their train’s gonna arrive, and knowing for sure which trains they’re never gonna jump on again.

We are the unwilling led by the unqualified doing the unnecessary for the ungrateful. Or to make long story short, growing up doesn’t mean anything in particular anymore.