meaningless post - meaningless times

Ulm est divertente...
Era il nome di una festa splendida, l'ultima festa prima di Natale.
Nell'indecisione di temi, di lingue, ho deciso che non scriverò niente.
Se mi guardo allo specchio vedo solo un'immagine distorta e paurosamente colorata.

Quotation Time

This post will not be translated... quotations are just quotations!

Citazioni da tutto il primo semestre in ordine sparso.

"Can I put the dick on the table?" - Andrea

-"Do you know sburro?" Davide
-"What is sburro?"
-"Juan, do you know porn movies? Well, at the end..." Andrea explaining.

-"Ma le ragazze irlandesi non ti sembrano fatte tutte con lo stampo?"
-"SiDavide, è la venticinquesima volta che me lo chiedi"


"Che c'è da vedere in Irlanda? E' tutto un prato verde e pietre rotte" by Andrea

"Te li faccio gli esercizi, ma poi tu cosa mi dai?" by Andrea

"Do you like sadomaso?" Kristian

“ah italians! Pizza mandolino mafia! I know some words in italian: vaffanculo bastardo!” irlandese standard

"Then I'm Jaegerschnizzel!" Kristian

"Do you do that often in Finland" Kristian, each five minutes

"Cavalli... Ticoddiri!"

"Yes, is very difficult to know Irish people... talk to you later!"

"Sorry for my english, I'm spanish" - Juan

Per ora è tutto, ci vediamo al prossimo quotation time quando me ne vengono in mente altre.

Achille's Last Stand

Solo, ancora.

Solo poche ore mi separano dal mio aereo. Me ne sto qua, sveglio ancora per un po', in questo stato di sospensione, solo.
Ho accompagnato Henna e Luca alla fermata dell'aircoach, che li porterà all'aeroporto e da lì, alle loro case.
Per l'ennesima volta ho percorso la strada dalla fermata dell'autobus a casa. Solo.
La strada che ha unito me e Henna ora la percorro solitario e non c'è neppure la volpe di belfield a tenermi compagnia. Neppure un corvo. Tutto è congelato. L'erba schricchiola sotto le scarpe. Non ho freddo, ben diverso problema mi assilla.
Lo UCD è una città fantasma.
Te la ricordi Maggie, l'americana? Era alla fermata. Torna a casa, per sempre.
Non c'è mai tempo per salutare degnamente. Una parola, una stretta. “Hyvä joulua”, Merry Christmas, see you.
Molti se ne vanno per sempre. Scott, Omar, Paola, Maggie... Altri torneranno dopo natale.
Ma un giorno lasceranno lo UCD per sempre.
Gente che va, gente che viene.
Dicono che l'erasmus è tutta una festa. Beh, ultimamente è stato molto più simile a un funerale.
Il ragazzo che suonava l'ukulele che vedevo tutti i giorni dalla finestra non tornerà più.
Ho sempre vissuto in Osimo. La gente restava. Solo i morti se ne andavano, genericamente con un breve rito e poche lacrime.
Qua a Dublino la gente di cui ti innamori un giorno può scomparire quello seguente, su un aereo. Anche io me ne scomparirò un giorno, lasciando il posto che chiamo casa. Belgrove.
Belgrove non è un residence, è una creatura. Dal lento respiro. Oggi Belgrove è solitario, chiuso nel suo gelo, dimenticato. Poche anime battono i loro cuori nel suo ventre, molte delle quali stanno per partire in breve.
Guardo ancora le foto appese al muro, che segnano la mia camera come pietre miliari. Me ne sto andando, dico loro. Tornerò presto.
Italia mi attende. Italia mi guarda con impazienza e al suo sguardo io tremo.
Quando hai due case, non importa quale sia più importante per te: lasciare una per l'altra è sempre una sofferenza. Polvere si poserà su polvere, prima che io torni ad abitare qui. Tutto è immobile, congelato.

Solo la tiepida speranza delle numerose coppie interculturali vive, nel ghiaccio dell'inverno.

People go, people come. There is never enough time to say goodbye properly. A word, a hug. “Hyvä joulua”, Merry Christmas, see you.
Many people leave forever. Scott, Omar, Paola, Maggie... Other will be back after Christmas.
But one day they will leave UCD forever.
They say Erasmus is all about parties. Well, lately it has been more like a funeral. The guy that played the Ukulele that I always saw from my window will never be back.
I always lived in Osimo. There, people stays. Only deads leave, usually with a brief rite and few tears.
Here at Dublin, people with whom you fall in love one day can disappear the following, on an airplane. I will disappear as well one day, leaving the place I call home. Belgrove.
It is not a residence. It's a creature. Today it is lonely, closed in its frost, forgotten. Few hearts beat in his womb, many of which will leave soon as well.
I watch the photos hanged to the wall, that are signposts of my realm. I'm leaving, I say to them. I'll be back soon.
Italy waits me. Italy looks me with impatience and at its gaze I tremble of fear.
When you have two homes, it does not matter which one is more important to you: leaving one is always painful. Dust will lay on dust, before I will live here again.

Only the warm hope of the many international couples lives, inside the winter's frost.

Munin

Irishness - part 2

Un post che avevo scritto giorni fa, ma pubblico solo ora:

Ieri sono andato in centro con Henna. Ci siamo fermati per una pinta al the Celt. Bel posto, non nel mainstream (temple bar) ma stile irlandese, con musica live tutti i giorni.
Tre uomini già belli canuti con banjo, chitarra, ukulele e flauto erano le star della serata.
E' stato proprio come me lo immaginavo prima di partire. Pinta, Irish coffee, pinta...Ed hanno anche suonato rocky road to Dublin! Certo pero non avrei mai immaginato di andarci con una ragazza finlandese.
Mi sono sentito veramente in Irlanda. Perché non basta una Guinness e un cretino vestito da Leprechaun. L'Irlanda, l'angolo a nord-ovest dell'europa (ok, tecnicamente c'è l'Islanda, ma suvvia...), un posto in cui tutti vanno, un posto di cui tutti credono di sapere tutto, ma un paese ancora segreto.
Si, Irish, coffee, Guinness, prati verdi e gente amichevole. U2. Questo è ben noto a tutti. E anche della guerra e IRA si fa un gran parlare. Ma cosa sappiamo veramente?
Beh quella sera al Celt c'erano veramente pochi stranieri, l'atmosfera era buona.
Quella sera mi sono sentito veramente Irish. E troppo vicino al volo che mi porterà a casa.

Yesterday I went to the Celt with Henna. We stopped for a pint at “the Celt”. Good place, non in the overcrowded temple bar, but Irish style, with live music every day.
Three men with mostly white hair and a few years on their backs, guitar, banjo and whistle were the star of the night.
It was just as I imagined before coming to Ireland. Pint, Irish coffee, pint, music... and they even played “Rocky road to Dublin”. But I had never imagined to go there with a finnish girlfriend.
I felt to be in Ireland. Because a Guinness and a moron dressed as a Leprechaun is not enough. Ireland, the North-west corner of Europe (ok maybe it should be Iceland but...), a place in which many go, which everybody thinks to know everything about, but a still a secret country.
Yeah, Irish coffee, Guinness, Whiskey, green lawn and friendly people. U2. Everybody knows it. And people talk much also of the 'war' and IRA. But what do we really know?
Well yesterday at the Celt there were very few foreigners, the atmosphere was good.
That night I felt Irish. And too near to the flight that will bring me back home.

P.S.: for bilingual guys: the translation can be not exact sometimes, just because I want it to be.

Weihnachts ist nähe

Dear friends,
seems like some time has passed, uh?
I was too much occupied falling in the eyes of my schatzi Kathrin, and found out at the last moment december was going to finish soon bringing with it all the delights.
Anyway I´m going to be back in Italy soon, just a couple of workin´day and I´ll be in Ancona again for the late saturday.
I hope to see all you friends even if I´m probably staying in Italy less than expected and still have some opens about New year´s eve.
I would have never expected to be so in love with this country and this weird city...
See ya mandolino guys soon!
Yours
Huginn

Merry Christmas! Ndugulu!

News? Nothing special.
I have an exam in a few days, I just had one and I should study now.
I don't know why but I just feel that at UCD I can have more instruction, in less time and with less stress. All more organized.
Yeah, here you can actually choose some modules. Not like in Macerata that you must do the only one that fits your schedule, and you'll have the other one in your phd or postgraduate, insomma "specialistica".
You have a library; time; essays to write. The knowledge is there, all you can possibly want. Go and take it. Please. You also have free internet connection.
You don't have to travel the world with teleport and find the seven dragonballs to find your teachers. An e-mail is fine and you'll be replied in a few hours.
The problem of UCD is money.
You have to pay if you don't pass exams. You have to pay to enroll. You have to pay to change modules (sometimes). Of course in Italy we pay university as well, but not in all countries. An example? Again.... Finland.

Furthermore, surfing randomly the web I found a blog. I don't know the guy, I just know he's from USA, but I found this pretty interesting:

"I’m not a viking, and neither is anybody I know. That said, maybe we could learn a little something from these stalwart Norsemen. For one, Vikings didn’t get “depressed,” at least not according to the vast stores of viking lore that I’ve amassed by searching for “runes” on Google. A Viking feels down, he just rides a fucking wolf into a burning Troll village. Today? We get sad and it becomes a lifestyle. Seriously! There’s a whole industry set up around people who “just aren’t feeling it Today.”

Therapists? Yeah, yeah. But that’s the easy one. Think about this: Netflix is just Blockbuster video for dudes too sad to leave the house.

If you’re anything like me you just inhaled sharply, bugged your eyes out, and mouthed “Oh my God,” because, shit, you never thought of it that way before. And neither did I, until just now. But the point is this: depression has totally sold out. It no longer makes you pitiable, it just carves you into another wafer thin slice of the pie - no, pie chart that rich dudes get to eat. And that’s lame. Vikings would get so pissed off about that shit that they’d totally find the rich dudes’ village (Westlake Hills) and raze it to the fucking ground."

See the blog

Hey man, that's bloody true. Depressed people are not different, just customers.

Think about emo bands, black clothes, sad music and movies; pills; What about shopping, for those who are not depressed but unsatisfied. And chocolate.
What do you do if you feel a bit down? WHy not goin' out and buy something?
Bloody hell, isn't it frightening?

Luckily I'm oversatisfied now. And, voi perkele, I will not be sad anymore.

Is ireland different?

Volevo scrivere un post, ma per oggi ho trovato questo articolo sul sito dello UCD che riassume molte cose che penso:

I Wanted to write a post, bu today I found this article on UCD's website that summarises many things I thought:

Is Ireland Different?

Anyway I still think that the answer is yes.

T-I-M-E

Time. What's time?
Think at it just as a dimension in an n-dimension space. There is not better if you want to talk about it with out flying in the clouds.
BUT what I -THINK- about time is not so important and interesting since there's ton of phisicians and poets out there chatting about it.
Maybe I want to talk about what I -FEEL- time is.
I don't feel time. I just feel it as a word. There are some illumination moments which let me feel it as something more consistent than just a concept.
But basically I don't regard time as a major problem, nor a major concept for any philosophical discussion.
It's because I'm getting more and more like what I should be, a living being, or call it an animal.
Because when we are humans we don't live, we are not binded to the present. We are just a nightmare of concepts, ontologies, and bijective or surjective interactions, look-up tables and a lawier archives.
What does mean meditation in eastern conceptions?
Just this: unbinding from concept and thought. Killing thought and forget for a while our actual status.
And as usual we use the term in an awkward way: meditation for us is focusing the rational thought on a single point. Absolutely the opposite as it should be.

Time, what is time?
I live.

This is my koan for today.
Is also what I definitely feel time to be.

Sincerely and freely yours.
Huginn, the pizza-mandolino guy.