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bottom trawl

the cornerstones of my dashboard

Things are not things that are , but the dragnet that if the door after her. Things are a train and the train has bread, sound, air, items, pages, tabs, pixel.

One day the Fund and publishing house in all, but everyone , we like the people of the internet, the publishing house of the trawl. And that day will really hit the mark, up or down it, fireworks or water balloon spetasciato it.

And no, Saturday Carpi there was a beautiful thing . The next day, well. Then back in Brianza and hands you a captain and a grambellìbro grambeldìsco, plus the train, of course, so you fall asleep in a dream, for once, instead risvegliartici.

PS-All this we owe, we of the train, the engineer Marco Manicardi.

Severe Pain Under Teeth

Anna

Until the day that changed the card over the telephone, I have always believed that the name of my grandmother was Anna. Anagrafe, Instead, it was recorded as Annina Barani and as the diminutive names I've never understood, I am convinced that his parents wanted to avoid the palindrome, superstition. A silly superstition, I might add, because what can wrap maintaining the sound and sense is magical, while the irreversible and tragic as life.

Anna had just under thirty years old when the bombs began to fall on Massa: next to the dairy cooperative in which he worked, to the left, there was Piazza Aranci, so named because it is surrounded by orange trees, under a square air-raid shelter over the buildings around the smashed oranges. A whole mass has a simple name and unequivocal, as Piazza Mazzini, whom everyone calls Mercury square by a statue of the pagan god. For each place name irreversible, because no one is confused, Massa has done so, and for that, I think, Massesi give their children unusual names: Alberigo, Ilva. Seventh was the elder sister Anna, opposite in character and build: Seventh fine and sensitive, robust and unconscious Anna. And the bombs began to fall shortly after the Germans arrived dressed in black and brown - Cagnacci, call them friendly - and with them the displaced in the area, before the mass of its hosting displaced people. Seventh feared them as death, Cagnacci, when knocking on their door to seize the non-existent reserves of oil and wine. Once he was terrified to the point of it on me, so after the infamous summer of '44, Anna was convinced to let her escape in Pistoia with children still on a small truck in the middle of the trail, on top of the Garfagnana, left her , the small children and another twenty unfortunates, who did the rest of the journey on foot. Apparently, in addition to migrants, we were a nation of smugglers.

My grandfather Albert had passed the front. He was a policeman, Albert, because he could read and write but had too many brothers to study, so the military was sent to Rome where he learned to fly a car and shoot. My grandfather was a typist in the police station and never fire (his colleagues feared that lead to ruin the nimble fingers), and yet the partisans in the mountains not have him with them, despite the good intentions of many of Albert and his colleagues after ' September 8, for the men from the regime preseguitati the word cop the jailer pronounced without the possibility of palindromes, and then my grandfather, who cares about Duce and he missed his family in Abruzzo and was afraid of the bombs, took the uniform and gun, the buried, put on civilian clothes, and began to walk home, where his mother waited Carolina with his poems written on paper Tissue and Aunt Gina who had begun to keep the tomatoes in glass jars. There, the bombs did not fall over, and Anna could not believe it. Monteodorisio in 1944 was the other side of the world: the war was almost over, the sun was rising from the sea and went to bed in the mountains. And if you try to read the contrary, in '44 Monteodorisio turned into Massa in '44, where the sun was rising from the Apuan Alps to cry red tears in the Tyrrhenian Sea: a different story, in spite of palindromes.

The power to change things and give names to read it in one direction: hunger ration book was called, and a cooperative of Anna was up to administer shots coupon she had to play the part of the scheme. Even the food had been renamed and numbered as in a concentration camp in appetite, because people do not forget the taste and feel nostalgia for a full belly. However, after the city was emptied, it fell to someone to bring food to the displaced , on the contrary, we read starved : So every morning, climbing the straduzze and the center lead to Altagnana, San Carlo, Canevara up to the quarries of marble statuary, Anna dragged walk a few pounds of flour and sawdust, while the edge of the street grew piscialletto the uneducated, the poor, chicory and blueberry, with their perfume inattinto on the contrary, we read attention minefields. Every morning up to challenge shots, and every evening down at home with the empty bag and coupons torn, Anna watched the sunset on the west coast redundant, like that of Normandy, as the marble stones down to the sea, to become sand, then cement, but they may eventually go back and white polished stone. Up and down the Apuan strife between the Germans and the partisans, with the lousy bread fought between the Germans and partisans, too hungry, but with the advantage of tactical weapons, Anna was his war: fifty years after listening to justify the attachment pathological wicker chair with his I walked the words enough.

(thanks to Manicardi, who worked on a book - trust - beautiful, which are explained, and download things here, like that tomorrow is going to Carpi and law).

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I can not read the hours

I am one who often loses patience. Not with one in particular, I lose patience. Just lose it, and then, when I lost my patience, I am one who does not speak. Not with one in particular, and I do not talk enough.

I am one who can do little or nothing. Not like Zeno Cosini, that he, at least, could write a novel, because he is Italo Svevo, and vice versa, and I hope not to have ruined the final book. I am the one that almost everything he does, and I am many things, almost anything he is good. I read, but I read a little and slowly. However, I buy many books, and when I start to read books they look at me and embarrass me, so I read a little, slowly and awkwardly. Listening to a lot of records, but not enough to know what they're talking the ones that I talk about discs that do not know. And there are so many discs do not know, I hear a lot more of, if so many are still many more, as I seem to be. I'm going to hear, then, the concerts of the groups that make up the disks do not know, which are many, but inevitably some 'less than the number of discs that do not know, however, many more. And when I hear a song I do not know, a group that makes up a disk and so on, I seem to have missed something, and you want to tell me, no, no matter mica, because now I feel guilty, the legacy of the catechism.

I am one who takes it like writing on the train, and as I get to go down in Milan and Monza, when I write I'm seventeen minutes to reach the conclusion, if not then I come home and I forget to finish and build-up sheets on the desk which, not coincidentally, rhymes with entropy. So when I write, I rarely have time to check what I wrote, and it happens that on the sheet, and then, perhaps, in the post there are a lot of repetitions desired. But recently, I learned to be clever, so I say that repetitions are desired, although in the end it was not true. When I'm seventeen minutes to write and I do not have a conclusion, sometimes I end up with the clever and un'anticlimax, or, if I can, with a aprosdoketon. So, even without knowing what those two things there, because in the end does not help, they tell me I want to do the humorist, in a sense. But, and this I regret most of all, most of the books, records, concerts, I am one who tries to make people smile, but rarely, those who tell me they want to do the humorist, then smile. And even if, often smiling for the wrong reason, just that I can not say who smile for the wrong reason, then tell me the least. Instead no, I am not one that if the leads, whatever there is in me to lead, and any sense of lead is taken into account. How do I menarmela, I say, if I did not understand what and how do I lead?

I am one who still can not read the hours on the clock. In the past it happened that if I wanted to know the time, ask around, despite wearing the watch, which I had given my father. Then, when I asked around the time I had to cover the wrist, because people do not think I was weird or that, put the case, I wanted to rob using time as an excuse. Then came the teenage years, and I stopped to ask me the problem and to wear the watch I had given my father, because he was my father. And when I stopped Adolescere, I started to wear the watch, I was sorry for my father, because he was my father. But I, in all this time, I had not yet learned to read the hours. Thus, the port of the clock and keep asking around time. If not I'm late because I am one who is always late. And, on this subject, I can not speak my mind, there are at least ten people, we make fifteen, that if I tell my delays, they get angry, and then end up not speaking anymore.

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THE GAME OF EIGHT WORDS EMMA

They take eight words at random, and invents a short story that should hold them.
Easy and fun! Try you too ...

eight words (the macrobiotic restaurant after hearing): child, salts, the main traffic lights, pizza, octopus, stables, pig.

PROPHECIES

Sometimes Carolina De Nobis thought back to his life without understanding how he managed to finish from riches to rags in this way.
you from such an esteemed and well known family, so that his grandfather had been an inspiration of the same DeAmicis which had made the main character of the book Heart. The most incisive and extraordinary to be clear, certainly more memorable than those of other pushovers Bottini or worse, Garrone.
She, who was raised in small pastries stuffed groups of the Camargue and slept between white cotton sheets of Persia, who was swimming in the pool only if they were paid copious handfuls of Dead Sea salts and always wore silk gloves Japanese, was now reduced to wash cups and receipts to beat case of a restaurant. How could this happen?

He should have listened to his father lamented. The late Earl De Nobis had always told him.
My child - he said - remember that the Dutch are all pigs!
Actually his father was so angry with the Dutch, the Netherlands and all just to be generous, because of a jockey who had made him Dordrecht lose more than a property play. But Carolina was not this bad omen came into my head and twenty-two years had fled along with Hans, sculptor anarchist Rotterdam penniless and with little talent. His most famous creation was "against the traffic light power", a complaint about the road signs is a conspiracy of the powerful to keep us subjugated, and to express the sense of rebellion against the dictatorship that unbearable light of Hans had all the lights switched. The only problem was that Hans had released his masterpiece at the main intersection of town, sending a crisis in the rush hour traffic and causing several collisions so was finally arrested for destruction of public property.

Carolina Hans had left and returned home, but in the meantime his father had played the horses, jockeys and a Neapolitan, all that remained of their property.
Oh, watch out for Naples, told the father-exhaling its last breath - they're all pigs!

And now, as if she had fallen on an anathema, he found himself with Gaetano, Neapolitan cook, manage a pizzeria Posillipo with lots of neon sign that said this: "From the Contessa, a specialty stuffed octopus!" .

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from my old blog



My name is Emma, \u200b\u200band these days I have a Magone that if I do not vent combustion: are afflicted by the preparations they are doing at home to celebrate my birthday.

Watch as there are busy all!

The mother does nothing but prepare cakes and sandwiches for all the relatives to arrive, the father strumming that old guitar that I'm not ever touch and the grandmother is actually cut out of colored paper banners with the words "Emma has a year." As if there was no need for remind me ... And if I forget who, that was one of the worst day of my life!

I think yesterday was a day like many others, and nothing points to a disaster that would follow.
Guys, I was as good in those days: my days were near perfect. I was immersed in a warm and fragrant Arquette, I was comfortable in a comfortable sort of dark room, but do not think that I felt alone because there was The Voice that made me company.
heard it all the time, was sweet and soft and spoke to me from a distance, accompanied by a tum-tum in the background. Even when the voice he was silent, the tum-tum, and I never stopped so She did not know that she was gone, but he was only resting a bit '.

Me squander the time and that there really seemed just like any other: I was doing my own business and, I swear, not a nuisance to anyone when all of a sudden, the sky is torn, I wrapped a very strong light and two profane hands grabbed me and ripped from my house.
I have pulled out, where it was bitterly cold and where the light was cruel and violent.
I was terrified of the cold and pain, I screamed as I turned desperate and over, and I put my head down and went from place to place. I've never had so so scared ... then, suddenly, I heard it.
was she, The Voice.
was stronger than when I was in, a bit 'distorted, but it was her, there was no doubt. He kept talking to me and say reassuring things with her sweet voice and unique. I calmed down a little, but only for a few minutes after that came the worst: other hand, foreign and stinky, I was caught again, they took me away, I was washed, weighed, dressed, shot and finally slammed into a cot with bars.
I was exhausted and terrified. There was no hope.
Only after a while ' I've calmed down when I was finally removed from that rough bed and they put me in his arms.
When I took it I knew it was her. It was the voice, only now it was no longer just a rumor, it was my Mother.
Luckily she arrived!
You should know that my mother is the mother of the world more good, in fact she knew immediately that was a bad time for me and that I needed consolation, and all night I spoke softly, softly, to make me realize that even though I was now out, however, was not over.
I still had the sound of his voice still next to me for help.
Slowly I took courage.
I told myself that I could do it with you to overcome all the troubles I had rained down on him.

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N ° 2 THE GAME OF EIGHT WORDS N ° 1

You take eight random words, and invents a story about who should hold them. Easy and fun!
If you also want to try add the link of your creation in the bottom of the post.
The idea came from an old style exercise proposed by Eulalia .

eight words (listen to the park where my daughter played): come down, Asia, ant, ladders, news, hard work, Mom, hand

POSTCARDS

When mom told me that he had decided to spend Vacation in Asia, at first I did not bother since it allows long pauses for her exotic was a fun habit. Over the years he had already visited Chile, New Zealand , Turkey and Canada and the only difficulty for me was to help her prepare for the twenty or thirty cases of "things are absolutely indispensable" to take with you. The mother also had the lovely setting of a photo shoot that then I would send in postcard size greetings to me and all my mates. Those the past there had still hung over the camp all of my dorm.

But that year he asked me to help her. This detail would make me sound the alarm, but nothing. I realized the only oddity was when she told me.
I broke the news by telephone, that coward!

-I joined the naturist Panaji-announced peace.

why this time I had not touched the hard work of the luggage did not have them! That crazy old woman wanted to walk around naked for the beaches of Goa, burn incense and sing the songs of Joni Mitchell with the shame of it out ...

-Do not do it-I cried.

-boarding are already on the stairs, "answered her angel.

-Get-ordered now.

-Baby, you're transforming an ant in an elephant.

E of the seminar is sorted by the prior. Now who will explain, the reverend father, that old-naked pictures on the postcard is not my mother, but an ant with her tits to the wind?

And here another eight words:

edaltrestorie

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The BMW Metallic pulled to the side of the courtyard of gravel and splashing chickens.
- Bongiorno sir- greeted the woman cheerfully, leaning from the driver's side .- Would you like your salad?
-No thanks, "replied the lady Mary, lowering the window. -I would like to take a kitten to my Ruben.
- Ah, the cat you've done this year nine! Go, go small, there n'hai to choose from! Everybody in the barn!
At those words the passenger side got a little boy as thin as a skeleton wearing a canary yellow soccer uniform across muddy.

-Sai explained Mrs. Maria-is-a gift that I had promised for some time now and if it is deserved. Ruben has finally scored a goal, and I hoped his father almost no more. For years, the team we play in the neighborhood and he has refused to whine that did not suit him, he does not like. All I say laziness. He does not want to commit. But the world is not who is pulled back, the world is the daring of those who are at stake and those who make others see what he is capable. That's why we kept him there by force. Because it was a life lesson. Only one who is at the center of the mixture can be successful, is not it?
- Certainly, sir - the woman agreed. - It 's like for cats. People are always those seize more lively, the ones that if they can see, touch and other one drowned, poor beasts.

The boy meanwhile went to the cistern on the side of the barn, one in which several cats were playing to beat each other. When they saw four kittens ran to rub around his ankle fused with festive, two of them threw his back looking for scratch card and all, more or less in unison, they launched into a meow more like the creak of an old door a reminder that animal. Only one of them dozing in the straw. For a moment the pelandrone lifted the nose to check the reason for so much fuss but immediately went back to sleep, bored by all that noise. Ruben chose him without hesitation.