It’s funny, isn’t it

The moment it dawns on you that you’re finished. That you were finished a long time ago, years and years ago, but you couldn’t see it. You wouldn’t. You refused to. And now here is this delicate moment you finally recognize the void in you has grown. The pleasures of life are no longer yours…

analog

Life is a closed door and nothing matters to me. It’s all routine. It’s all surface. It’s theatrical makeup. Not even the feelings are real. There’s no point to me except to be an eye for awhile. So be it. We’ll always have Rome. Yes, even when I’m having an existential crisis I still “feel”…

dido’s lament 

Loneliness is so much richer in a crowd. False flashes of happiness skim over you like patches of sun between all the shadow. But nothing penetrates your skin. You don’t live, you just float, dreamlike, for awhile, eyes closed or open, you just… exist. You keep losing track of yourself in the mirror. The photograph…

let us lose ourselves 

  Are they a shadow now? Can they hear your thoughts now that they’re ether, a chimera, soon to be dust? What becomes of love when you lose the object behind it? To think you will join them one day; older, wiser, less you than they remember. Your dust will never become theirs. There is…

Naples, Italy; seducing and fascinating me

                                                 Sorrento, Capri, and Napoli… The dreamlike beauties and chaotic back alleys of the Campania… Southern Italy… Always I hear the sirens call. Ruins, art, the pastoral by the sea, sweeping views, intense, looming cities and everything in between. There were some days I had…

Rome in October

I caught a ridiculously photogenic couple in Rome taking a selfie together on the pincian hill at sunset, with cupolas and Saint Peter’s behind them. Oh, to be young and beautiful and in love in Roma, what many in this world wouldn’t give for it. If only, I think to myself… Persimmon trees bearing fruit…

greco roman

My spirit turns more and more toward the West, toward the old heritage. There are, perhaps, some treasures to retrieve among its ruins … I don’t know. — Lawrence Durrell

snapshots of rome on my fourteenth visit

Rome in autumn is touched with all the warm colors one expects but with the hint of coolness lingering over the fading blush of summer. Lovers are everywhere. detail interior: 1200’s era church in Rome, Italy a portrait through “bars”, rome the beauty of a charming fresco Rome from a favorite corner Rome from the…

western civ

“There is no culture whatsoever in western culture” and “western civilization has contributed absolutely nothing to history ” are basically code for ‘I’m a philistine.’ It’s a comment on the loud and proud philistines who don’t do their research and remain ignorant by choice of the history of art, literature, philosophy, music, science, and more.We’re…

je me souviens

“The weak fade and disappear, the strong multiply and triumph… our ancient West – tragically now in a minority status on this earth – retreats behind its dismantled fortifications while it already loses the battles on its own soil, it begins to behold, in astonishment, the dull roar of the huge tide that threatens to…

one of the Death / Love / pieces from the Sweden series

   Once more with feeling. The last, final hurrah. One more college try before admitting defeat. Before the decay sets in, and you begin to crumble, a ruin of riches falling to dust; a wreck one can never revisit. It wasn’t that long ago you felt so terribly young, so terribly alive. Yet it feels…

On Italy, on Love, a Keatsian letter never sent

I write to you from Italy. It’s where I belong, if I belong anywhere in this world. I should be writing this in Italian, that beautiful language… the language of Dante, and poetry, and of the maestros, but I’ve mastered one language only, English. Mastered it with the devotion of a life long lover who…