🍊
An interesting episode from Italian history. Every time I feel mawkish or meek overcome by the million needles that are shot at my brain by those who wish to do me harm or spiritual violence (lady at Whole Foods who tells me I cannot grab & eat food from the hot bar with my fingers, girl at gym who refuses to make eye contact with me, Mother), I have to remind myself that this can be my life one day if I play my cards right. From the article:
——
“On Sept. 12, 1919, flanked by a few black-clad former army buddies, known as “arditi,” d’Annunzio marched on the city — over the exasperated objections of the Italian government. “Ecce homo,” he announced from the governor’s mansion, echoing the words of Pontius Pilate in the Gospel of John when he recognizes that Jesus is the Messiah. D’Annunzio was saying it about himself.
D’Annunzio’s strange, chaotic 15-month rule over the city began. He mandated daily poetry readings, regular concerts and constant fireworks. Soldiers were commanded to celebrate not with the vulgar “hip, hip, hurrah,” but “Eia eia alalà!” — his Italianized interpretation of the Greek battle cry of Achilles in The Iliad. A constitution established an anarcho-syndicalist, corporatist state, in which one of the corporations was designed to represent the superior Übermensch. (D’Annunzio was heavily influenced by Friedrich Nietzsche.)
The city became a haven for all kinds of misfits and miscreants: occultists, vegetarians, futurists, practitioners of free love. Venereal disease outstripped any other malady by a factor of 10. Drug use skyrocketed. Ethnic Croatians were quietly, or not so quietly, expelled. Political opponents were routinely humiliated: The “arditi” pioneered the punitive use of castor oil, a noxious laxative, which they forced their enemies to drink. And d’Annunzio, the “divine leader,” presided over it all.”
——
If you had the ability to seize tyrannical control over your city, what would you do? I’d demolish the highways & replace them with waterways. I’d inaugurate the newly made 405 canal with a maiden voyage on a pleasure barge with purple sails flying the Jolly Roger. I’d use similar engineering technology used during the creation of the Panama Canal to flood the San Fernando Valley in its entirety.
Did you know that 40 million years ago, the San Fernando Valley was part of a complex of inland oceans? You can feel this still. When the night is coming on in purple & pink, when the air is heavy & dry, when the palm trees are swaying in the warm & silent breeze— you can see the ghosts of Archelons swimming among the fronds.
For posterity, I will cultivate an orange orchard at my villa on one of the islands of the San Gabriel Archipelago. When the time for harvest comes, I won‘t lift a finger to pluck them. I’ll wait for them to overripe & fall to the earth. Only then will I peel them open & eat them
Apr 28, 2024
Related Recs
🧾
I say this because I appear to have lost, no, mislaid your favor, since you have gone a long time without writing me, and I was doubtful whence the cause could arise. And of all those that came to my mind I took little account except for one, when I feared you had stopped writing to me because someone had written to you that I was not a good warden of your letters; and I knew that, apart from Filippo and Pagolo, no one else had seen them on account of me. I regained your favor by your last letter of the 23rd of last month, where I was very pleased to see how orderedly and quietly you exercise this public office; and I urge you to continue so, for whoever lets go of his own convenience for the convenience of others, only loses his own and gets no thanks from them. And because Fortune wants to do everything, she wants us to allow her to do it, to remain quiet and not give trouble, and to await the time at which she allows men something to do; and then it will be right for you to give more effort, to watch things more, and for me to leave my villa and say: “Here I am.”
Therefore, wishing to return equal favors, I cannot tell you in this letter of mine anything other than what my life is like, and if you judge that it should be bartered for yours, I will be content to exchange it.
I stay in my villa, and since these last chance events occurred, I have not spent, to add them all up, twenty days in Florence. Until now I have been catching thrushes with my own hands. I would get up before day, prepare traps, and go out with a bundle of cages on my back, so that I looked like Geta when he returned from the harbor with Amphitryon’s books; I caught at least two, at most six thrushes. And so passed all September; then this pastime, though annoying and strange, gave out, to my displeasure. And what my life is like, I will tell you. I get up in the morning with the sun and go to a wood of mine that I am having cut down, where I stay for two hours to look over the work of the past day, and to pass time with the woodcutters, who always have some disaster on their hands either among themselves or with their neighbors. And regarding this wood I would have a thousand beautiful things to tell you of what happened to me with Frosino da Panzano and others who want wood from it. And Frosino in particular sent for a number of loads without telling me anything, and on payment wanted to hold back ten lire from me, which he said he should have had from me four years ago when he beat me at cricca at Antonio Guicciardini’s. I began to raise the devil and was on the point of accusing the driver who had gone for it of theft; but Giovanni Machiavelli came between us and brought us to agree. Batista Guicciardini, Filippo Ginori, Tommaso del Bene, and some other citizens, when that north wind was blowing ordered a load each from me. I promised to all, and sent one to Tommaso which in Florence turned into a half-load because to stack it up there were himself, his wife, his servant, and his children, so that they looked like Gabbura with his boys when he bludgeons an ox on Thursday So when I saw whose profit it was, I told the others I had no more wood; and all have made a big point of it, especially Batista, who counts this among the other disasters of Prato.
When I leave the wood, I go to a spring, and from there to an aviary of mine. I have a book under my arm, Dante or Petrarch, or one of the minor poets like Tibullus, Ovid, and such. I read of their amorous passions and their loves; I remember my own and enjoy myself for a while in this thinking. Then I move on along the road to the inn; I speak with those passing by; I ask them news of their places; I learn various things; and I note the various tastes and different fancies of men. In the meantime conies the hour to dine, when I eat with my company what food this poor villa and tiny patrimony allow Having eaten, I return to the inn; there is the host, ordinarily a butcher, a miller, two bakers. With them I become a rascal for the whole day, playing at cricca and tric-trac, from which arise a thousand quarrels and countless abuses with insulting words, and most times we are fighting over a penny and yet we can be heard shouting from San Casciano. Thus involved with these vermin I scrape the mold off my brain and I satisfy the malignity of this fate of mine, as I am content to be trampled on this path so as to see if she will be ashamed of it.
When evening has come, I return to my house and go into my study. At the door I take off my clothes of the day, covered with mud and mire, and I put on my regal and courtly garments; and decently reclothed, I enter the ancient courts of ancient men, where, received by them lovingly, I feed on the food that alone is mine and that I was born for. There I am not ashamed to speak with them and to ask them the reason for their actions; and they in their humanity reply to me. And for the space of four hours I feel no boredom, I forget every pain, I do not fear poverty, death does not frighten me. I deliver myself entirely to them.
And because Dante says that to have understood without retaining does not make knowledge, I have noted what capital I have made from their conversation and have composed a little work De Principatibus [On Principalities], where I delve as deeply as I can into reflections on this subject, debating what a principality is, of what kinds they are, how they are acquired, how they are maintained, why they are lost. And if you have ever been pleased by any of my whimsies, this one should not displease you; and to a prince, and especially to a new prince, it should be welcome. So I am addressing it to his Magnificence, Giuliano. Filippo Casavecchia has seen it; he can give you an account in part both of the thing in itself and of the discussions I had with him, although I am all the time fattening and polishing it.
You wish, magnificent ambassador, that I leave this life and come to enjoy your life with you. I will do it in any case, but what tempts me now is certain dealings of mine which I will have done in six weeks. What makes me be doubtful is that the Soderini are there, whom I would be forced, if I came, to visit and speak with. I should fear that at my return I would not expect to get off at my house, but I would get off at the Bargello, for although this state has very great foundations and great security, yet it is new, and because of this suspicious; nor does it lack wiseacres who, to appear like Pagolo Bertii, would let others run up a bill and leave me to think of paying. I beg you to relieve me of this fear, and then I will come in the time stated to meet you anyway.
I have discussed with Filippo this little work of mine, whether to give it to him or not; and if it is good to give it, whether it would be good for me to take it or send it to you. Not giving it would make me fear that at the least it would not be read by Giuliano and that this Ardinghelli would take for himself the honor of this latest effort of mine. The necessity that chases me makes me give it, because I am becoming worn out, and I cannot remain as I am for a long time without becoming despised because of poverty, besides the desire I have that these Medici lords begin to make use of me even if they should begin by making me roll a stone. For if I should not then win them over to me, I should complain of myself; and through this thing, if it were read, one would see that I have neither slept through nor played away the fifteen years I have been at the study of the art of the state. And anyone should be glad to have the service of one who is full of experience at the expense of another. And one should not doubt my faith, because having always observed faith, I ought not now be learning to break it. Whoever has been faithful and good for forty-three years, as I have, ought not to be able to change his nature, and of my faith and goodness my poverty is witness.
I should like, then, for you to write me again on how this matter appears to you, and I commend myself to you.
Be prosperous.
Nov 8, 2023
🌅
Bring forth to mind, if you will, the ill-fortuned Orpheus; Odysseus, ill-fortuned but cruel- and cleverest-enough to make it forward; now lovely Inanna; loving Dante; Fritti and Ida and so many other brothers and sisters; so many poems, songs; yes, meet me tonight in Atlantic City; I’m in love with a dying man, yes, yes; now the post-midnight train to Coney Island, smiling in the summer, tears in November; a minivan to Cape May one grey day; prison-taxi down to Long Beach with the sun coming up; one thousand leaps into the East River and the Danube and the Seine and then… this is just what comes to mind. Oil pipelines. Black licorice. Oh, coincidentally, have you yet read the fiction-piece One Hundred by brilliant blonde Zans Brady Krohn? (printed, of course, in Heavy Traffic 1 — where else?) Yes, that too comes to mind, naturally, yes, I think so… Terrific story. Atlantic City story. So, katabasis story. In more ways than one, really … And following: certain buildings, certain seasons of mood. I’m running dry. Greenlight on the edge of the dock. Absinthe and stolen vodka. “Curiousity killed the cat, satisfaction brought it back.” That’s half anabasis. I’m just spitballing. Trying to remember.
May 10, 2023
Aka Pamela Anderson’s Epic Poem. from July 2014 on Facebook. you are welcome
The Pamelad
Smoldering...
I know it's bad for you...
But, this is when I wish,
I had a cigarette-
something I've never tried- (light up)
some kind of relief..
I wish it was Italy 40 years ago--
The moon rising over the Amphitheater--
to tremendous applause... like Herzog (clap)
Europeans don't seem to care about silly
smoking laws?,
We do what we want anyway -
behind closed doors--
Our true character, collective complexities.
childish activities -
patterns- genetics? Attention deficit-
- ...SEX ... a lost art-- a sickness--
Perversions-
Lost sensuality -
The cruel smell of orange blossoms...
I love being in love– but expectations,
make it impossible to be happy-
or satisfied…
I've tried… so hard..
maybe it's not in fashion–
Tradition…just seemed so romantic…,
I guess it's a used up ideal –
for the old fashion…
not modern…
Female security… lost-
no way–
Coded, and loaded Cell phones,
Computers —
Ordering sex on line-
is like ordering a book on Amazon–
and … snooping eats you alive–
A mirrored action. obsessive love…
unhealthy,
hopeless- knocked sideways–
There is always this feeling -
of discontent–
Like something is off…
I can't put my finger on why–
Who wants to be the Warden–
I want out of here– out of this time –
in space–
Grey, muted crystals,
from unsavory places-
bad intentions,
dull- no fire-- a secret life -
Laying in my hotel bed--
pulling up my stockings- carefully
re-attaching to the garter- ,
The cuban heel- the line
(right on course)
the works...
Feeling a little guilty-
I started to fantasize--
Il Postino, Pablo Neruda-
Should I go to Capri--?
So frustrated--
burning... questions...
No man knows what to do with me--
I blame myself--
To play with me, is eternal--
I'm not 'on the clock' or…
on the 'payroll'–
rrrr–
I had to get out of the room-
The velvet stuff and porcelain things
closing in on me–
What have I done...?
I knew it was wrong from the start--
primitive-- base instinct..
Never marry a rich man...
Euros from a Vagabond..
Just start walking - (Like Jeanne Moreau and
Miles Davis)
Never look back-
There is only beauty ahead,
Salvation..
Glory
Rushing...
I almost forgot where I was-- shit--
My white
Burberry trench -
- on the floor?
A Parkay floor…
(Narration by a deep voiced sexy black guy)
BG- She stopped to admire it's clever design,
ME- "So pretty"
BG wrapped herself up—
She snuck out the door with a quiet click,
and Seamlessly, floating down the hall- (on wire)
Her Tom Ford feet didn't
touch the ground–
Falling gracelessly into an elevator
playing Nat King Cole's …. Stardust?
(remembering the movie)
ME- "Fallen Angel?"
BG Nobody was up yet-
out into the cool world she goes,
ME-"Freedom…
I can breathe…"
BG- looking for a little human contact?
Playful seduction? …
ME- "I'm so Hungry…"
BG- Her heart was racing—
It was barely dawn —
Bathed in perfect light-
magic hour– —
ME- "Everyone looks good this early"
BG- Even cats and hummingbirds
Was anyone watching her..
She gazed up into dark windows…
to nobody…
and let the jacket fall loosely around
her shoulders…
The rush coming back- …
a little lost on purpose,
Hiding around corners,
ME- so dangerous-
my body is on fire….
my body is never done– trouble finds me–
please find me-
The iron is always hot!"
BG- She Leaned against the cool wall of a
stoney church-
It felt good, soothing-
ME- I wonder how prostitution works-
Does it ever feel good?
Lost little souls - being taken advantage of--
or taking advantage of-
Is it just for money? Is it for attention?
or --- both--
Women suffer-
- Everywhere...
rules, rules, rules--
conflicting needs..
I can't find the answers-- It's an epidemic--
I know I won't compete with a computer--
or - a gaggle of hollywood boys hiring poor
Russian girls to swallow loaves of bread
up their anus'?-
How does that work?"
BG- She was disturbed--
How far can she take this?-- Is it even real?--
ME- "Have we lost men to thin air---
to the Abyss-- to technology and lube-
Flesh is attached to a heart and a brain-
takes effort...and skill...
Where are the great lovers?-- A lost art...
God , I hope not...
I've never been to Columbia-- Should I go?- I really want to go!
Is this Hysteria?…
Objectification?
now– Coming down from the ceiling,
dripping in gold glitter–
Dancing with Nureyev- eyes closed—
the dream…
arousing my tenderness,
A sweet rawness-
feeling bruised and scratched up–
Hypnotic -
Life is sensual– not a "fix it in post"–
ME- I miss PLAYBOY-
The End of an Era–
Chivalry, elegance-
Celebrated imperfections -
differences… hot—passionate dreamy scenes…
The girl next door– shyness– "it's my first time"
but - not my last….(wink)
– I'm planning a mysterious coup–
Want to get in on it–
Julian Assange?
Is it healthy, to be fantasied about…
by many men –?
Isn't that the goal-
How many can we effect–
It's natural– to want to be desired–
The world creeps up on you–
and there you are,
ALL over the place-
places you never intended to be– (desert storm?)
(soldiers)
I am human you know–
left to adjust to the madness-
No mercy- pay the price– my fault-
BG- feeling empty, sad– withdrawn-
Left to Isolate– Medicate.
Go to sleep–
ME-NO! I wont- -
ME- You know- It's not freaky enough,
to just be beautiful–
I've never felt beautiful-
I always felt sexual… and blind..
oh wowwy… I'm losing my mind–
I'm shutting down– It's such a strange feeling…
going numb… in front of everyone—-
It's like a Self inflicted drowning…hard to do–
(Alarm bells!!)—
When did I want to be this thing?–
To attract what?
When did I go from a curious little girl,
to an insatiable woman? Girl on the run…
Femme fatale… devoted and ….divided.
Are we all going crazy? -
or, is it just me?
Is it that stuff on unwashed vegetables?
When did I lose control over my own heart?–
When did I start believing ,
That this is all I'm good for-
against my better judgement–
fell for it- dammit- it all backfired–
It doesn't feel good to be used, neglected, ignored—
controlled….
I'm not doing this—
It's humiliating - I have to turn this around–
Settling is powerless- desperate–
an illusion–
Can't buy your way out of this one …buddy!!,
I'm cold-
(She can't stop laughing..)
Reminds me of a play I wrote --
That one about The Hell's Angels,
starring -
Steve Queen and Brigitte Bardot--
The Entr' Acte....
** A car chase-
She is going on and on (in french) and
He's just trying to have his way with her-
everything is double entree' Funny/Sexy-(subtitles projected)
They've stolen billions in diamonds - she's dripping from head to toe...
in a sparkly madness of laughter--- 60's Porsche?- (or that GT/Bullit car)
All in a Car - bouncing and swerving-- lights- facing the audience-- (with BW projections from the 60's behind them--)...
They fall in love-- They fall apart---
I'm not sure what the The Hells Angels have to do with it--
but they stay in the title---
The End....
Apr 10, 2025
Top Recs from @steelyfan1998
⭐
sometimes you just need to read some real shit straight from the realest person you know .
Feb 24, 2025
Mar 4, 2025
🌞
I LOVE DAYLIGHT SAVINGS I LOVE THE LIGHT I LOVE GOING FOR A HIKE AFTER WORK AND HOW WATER LOOKS IN THE WARM DUSK THANK YOU DAYLIGHT SAVINGS----- I HAPPILY SACRIFICE AN HOUR OF SLEEP COME THIS TIME OF THE YEAR WAKING TO THE SUNSHINE JABBING ME EYE----- IF YOU DON'T FUCK WITH DAYLIGHT SAVINGS UNFOLLOW ME I DONT FUCK WITH YOU----- THE GREATEST BETRAYAL OF MY ADULT LIFE WAS WHEN THE STATE OF CALIFORNIA VOTED FOR PERMANENT DAY LIGHT SAVINGS ALL THE TIME AND THE COWARDS THAT RUN THIS PATHETIC EXCUSE FOR A STATE FAILED TO IMPLEMENT ETERNAL SUMMER
Mar 4, 2025