Some diary translations from 2007. Life in England!
April 1st 2007
I’ve lived for almost two years in this apartment and the news of the week is that I’ve decided to buy it. I spoke with the owner, we’re still discussing the price but it shouldn’t exceed 200,000 pounds, furniture included: perfect. I’m really happy because I’m very fond of this house. It’s tiny, but I feel like it’s mine. It gives me comfort, I find myself within its walls and it makes me feel protected.
It’s as if the things that don’t matter actually stay out the door, when I am here. Everything that’s ugly and stressful, or that I can’t handle in everyday life, I leave it outside.
So I like the idea that this will become my FIRST HOME, in which to invest my savings.
Despite the tour being over I’m still keeping myself under control when it comes to food and drinks, I’m proud of myself.
“Dear God, please help me.”
April 9th 2007
Until this morning I had a high fever and a relapse of the tonsillitis that, evidently, was treated badly some time ago. New antibiotics, exhaustion and a sore throat… excruciating. My head is spinning even sitting here writing.
I give up.
April 10th 2007
The album went back up to number 2 almost a year after its release, amazing!
I’d like to jump for joy, but I am still too sick and my knees wouldn’t hold up. This morning I had to call the doctor again, he thinks that they prescribed me the wrong antibiotics. But how is this possible???!!!
I’m hungry, too hungry, but my throat burns so much that eating is torture and therefore it’s not worth it.
Thursday we were supposed to tape “Domenica In…” with Laura and Pippo Baudo, but I’m just not able to move and so I’ll participate only with a phone call. Too bad.
Why did April have to be the month of rest and vacation!!!
April 14th 2007
I don’t know what I would give to spend the evening jumping from pub to pub without thinking of anything. Instead I’m here locked up at home, tortured by the antibiotics and I jump only from thought to thought in a kind of psychological Russian roulette.
I can’t even write, or think, or synthesize the concepts and report the dumbest things.
I am alone, I’m bored and I complain, I complain and I’m bored. Period.
Today I’d like to call everyone who I don’t like and tell them to fuck off. I’d start with the category that I hate most: those that have the nice habit of “wriggling out”, out of any controversy or trouble that doesn’t concern them personally. Those who always opt for the middle way and never take a stand. I hate them, and I hate myself for never daring to tell them. Maybe today I could do it!!!
To close, I will say that I see myself in a “kamikaze” phase… I am dangerous!!!
April 27th 2007
I’m at home and continue to be good with alcohol and food, a lot of sushi and not much entertainment. But you know, it takes sacrifices to be in good physical shape! I just hope I don’t get depressed.
I’m in the phase: “I feel alone and I’d like to have someone next to me”, but to get there it’s not enough to shout this need of mine to the world.
My tonsils weren’t removed because, after the infection went away, I discovered that - despite what some doctors told me - it wasn’t necessary after all.
I’ve decided to broaden my circle of friends, but I never know where to start. Every time I try it, I go back and start over with the same people. It’s so difficult to find people with a “worthwhile” sense of humor.
The monsters inside me will eat them all alive, my new acquaintances.
The problems are always: the exposure and the ability to feel truly free.
The beginning of any relationship takes me back to the times of writing essays in class. You needed to get going right away, because the essay had to come out fluently. The time to pin down the basic idea always seemed too little to me, but I knew how crucial it was. The flash, the inspiration, had to come at once: at most during the first twenty minutes. Sometimes even while the teacher was reading the titles. Which usually were three: literature, news, the Divine Comedy. Sometimes he would add a fourth, if we were progressing through the literature list particularly quickly.
The chemistry had to happen immediately, it couldn’t be forced, or at least not too much: otherwise you’d risk compromising the fluidity of the language, the correctness of the form and the directness of the presentation. If it didn’t happen in time, it was a drama.
I see myself there, very sweaty and increasingly discouraged. Dreadful!
The worst danger was the “block”, a real nightmare. Everything became uninteresting, and the words struggled to come out. And I remember the smells of the heated croissants at recess, when we were done. If the essay had left me with a pleasant taste, full of hope for a good grade, it was the scent of salvation. If instead I felt assailed by the sensation of not having given it my all… I’d have them all burned, those croissants.
Or, if I really think about it, maybe I’d have only gorged myself on them to counter the sense of frustration.
See, relationships are also like this. It doesn’t matter what kind, or the intensity.
I believe in love at first sight.
Universal love, where everyone has a chance to light up, but it’s a moment, just one.
I don’t believe in rekindling the flame, and not even in half-measures. Maybe that’s also why I have very few friends, and no love.
There aren’t many people who move within the borders of true love.
Thought of the day: God, I do NOT miss class assignments!!!