Fabrizio Ulivieri's Blog, page 51
May 16, 2023
Nulla io sono, nulla
Nulla io sono, nulla
Nulla che io vorrei, nulla
Ma a parte questo - io tengo tutti
i sogni che volevo.
Piccolo saggio di esistenza quotidiana - la logica opposta
Un giorno strano. Un giorno in cui la mente muore. Vive lontana. in cui provo ma è solo fatica. E tanta.
Io ho un centro: lo stomaco. Un orrore.
Qualcosa volta penso che vi sia un mostro che abita lì dentro, perché lì è tutto il mio tormento, il mio male, tutti i miei mali partono da quel punto.
E' incurabile. Per quanto lo curi faccio due passi avanti e tre indietro.
E allora penso. E forse il mio male è anche il mio bene. Perché penso e capisco, e alla fine la croce ha questo, che ti fa pensare. E per esso pochi accettano la croce.
Ma la croce migliora e perfeziona l'uomo e lo fa attraverso l'inquietudine, il dolore, la sofferenza.
Per questo si dice che bisogna accettare la croce. La croce è in ultimo il simbolo dell'uomo che cerca la verità. Cercare la verità è ricerca, sofferenza e dolore, olreché inquietudine.
Chi cerca la verità è uno che non accetta il mondo come gli viene proposto, ma lo scandaglia, lo seleziona, lo analizza a prezzo del dolore. Lo rivolta sottosopra, invertendo la logica corrente.
Per questo alla fine io sono grato al mostro che sta nelle mie viscere, perché senza di quello non cercherei la riflessione, il pensiero, l'analisi, e, probabilmente, mi stordirei correndo dietro alle narrazioni del mondo.
Uno che aveva capito la logica di questa croce come nessun altro credo (nemmeno sant'Agostino ha afferrato così perfettamente quella logica) è stato San Paolo (Corinzi 1, 27-28):
[...]τὰ μωρὰ τοῦ κόσμου ἐξελέξατο ὁ θεός, ἵνα καταισχύνῃ τοὺς σοφούς, καὶ τὰ ἀσθενῆ τοῦ κόσμου ἐξελέξατο ὁ θεός, ἵνα καταισχύνῃ τὰ ἰσχυρά, καὶ τὰ ἀγενῆ τοῦ κόσμου καὶ τὰ ἐξουθενημένα ἐξελέξατο ὁ θεός, τὰ μὴ ὄντα, ἵνα τὰ ὄντα καταργήσῃ [...]
"quello che è stolto per il mondo, Dio lo ha scelto per confondere i sapienti; quello che è debole per il mondo, Dio lo ha scelto per confondere i forti; quello che è ignobile e disprezzato per il mondo, quello che è nulla, Dio lo ha scelto per ridurre al nulla le cose che sono"
In Dio il mondo, quello in cui viviamo, e che Sant'Agostino chiama il saeculum, è capovolto; e il dolore e la sofferenza ci inquietano e accendono il nostro motore perché andiamo oltre quel dolore e quella sofferenza, perché andiamo oltre la logica del saeculum, che San Paolo così bene spiega, in direzione della logica opposta a quella mondana.
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May 15, 2023
An unexpected attraction (Second part)
After a while, he saw his "boyfriend" arriving and kissing him on the left cheek. Then they started talking animatedly. And he was jealous. He felt the grip of jealousy.How stupid I am. Fuck off! I have a wife home, I love her so much, why I ended up in this hell of thoughts?He stood up from the seat he had finally found and went to the coffee machine, selected Espresso and paid with the credit card. He waited for the usual voice coming from the machine "Palaukite, prašau, patvirtinimo". Then it started pouring the coffee and filling the cup. Am I crazy? he asked himself. Am I schizo? He reinforced the question, He couldn't find an answer.He got the cup of coffee, leaned against the wall close to the coffee machine and started sipping the coffee and thinking,What am I doing? I should not come here any longer. He said whispering to himself. Did I lie to myself all my life? I am 58, I've never thought of a male as a possible object of desire. I made love only to women. I have been interested all my life in women and now...like a jab to my face...I want...fuck!He glanced at the couple and saw his partner squeezing the arm of the little slut in an almost violent way.He had the feeling of breathing the smell of the little slut's flesh. It was like a needle entering his pubic region. Excruciating.Is the coffee good? It was a voice. A close voice.He watched her. He recognized a girl that almost every day was sitting there working. She had a blunt look. She was in front of him and watched him.
TO BE CONTINUED (MAYBE)...
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May 14, 2023
La fatica del vivere e la sindrome del "dì di festa"
E fieramente mi si stringe il core,
A pensar come tutto al mondo passa,
E quasi orma non lascia. Ecco è fuggito
Il dì festivo, ed al festivo il giorno
Volgar succede, e se ne porta il tempo
Ogni umano accidente...
Tutto è pace e silenzio, e tutto posail mondo...
La fatica di vivere è tutta riassunta qui, nei versi di Leopardi. Quel "male" che ci coglie soprattutto alla fine del fine settimana. Che coglie soprattutto i popoli ricchi, pingui e viziati da una vita dove si ha tempo per concedersi una pausa lunga al succedersi dei giorni volgari. Dove l'uomo ha tempo per confrontarsi con il suo pensiero; e questo spaura, perché in quella pausa l'uomo ha sé, per confrontarsi con sé, con il senso della sua vita, per cui allora
profondissima quïete
io nel pensier mi fingo, ove per poco
il cor non si spaura
La domenica non è altro che quella siepe, quella barriera che separa il vero io dall'io che deve fingere di non vedere la barriera
questa siepe, che da tanta parte
dell’ultimo orizzonte il guardo esclude
Che per tutta la settimana finge di non vedere, non ha tempo di vedere o rifiuta di vedere. Perché pensare aumenta il dolore. E molti scelgono di non pensare e scelgono una falsa vita onodina, ignava, una vita né calda né fredda. Insipida. E vivono bene nell'insipido e pretendono di essere felici in quello stato.La fatica della vita ha la forma di una croce, e bene ricordarlo, di un punto in cui si intersecano la scelta del dolore e la negazione del dolore.
Ma molti, i più, rinnegano la croce e il conseguente dolore
e più di lor non si ragiona.
An unexpected attraction (First part)
He remembered, that it was energy. He had no other words to mean it.He was sitting but he felt like a strong energy coming from him and reaching him. He felt his eyes on him. Almost felt them burning his back. He truly sensed it.
It was annoying. Why is he interested in me?
They didn't look at each other. They pretended, both, not to look at each other.
In the end, he was disappointed when he was not there. When he arrived at that place and he didn't find him sitting at his usual seat in front of his computer he felt he was missing a part of his day. What he was doing he had no idea. But slowly, day after day he had become curious about what he was doing, what he was working on. A couple of times, he had been able to peek at the screen of his computer. Maybe he was working with Photoshop.
He always sat partnered with another guy. His boyfriend? He thought so, because sometimes they were joking and laughing very close. He probably was the female in the couple, because he had the look of a cunning slut. A scandalous look of a mischievous and scandalous slut.
Those days it was becoming hot and he was wearing a white cotton vest leaving his shoulders bare as a young slut.
That dragged him more to him, to desire that young slut.
That slut look-like amped up his prowess for that energy flowing between him and him.
He looked past him. In the opposite direction of him. Through the enormous windows facing the city, its roofs, the crossroads, the green trees...
Yes, it is energy. I have no other explanation. He thought.
They never spoke a word but he could almost sense it in the air the desire to talk and touch each other, and this surprised him.
That day he had foolishly thought that the Ikea space was empty, with a few people. It was Friday afternoon, 2 am.
The only seat free instead was in front of him. He hesitated. Then he decided not to sit there. He was surprised. He was a straight guy. How come he was attracted by another male?
He didn't find any reason. The only reason, he thought, to be taken into consideration, was the energy. That strong and inescapable energy had taken him off-guard.
But he resisted. He didn't give up.
TO BE CONTINUED (MAYBE)...
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An unexpected attraction (Short Story)
He remembered, that it was energy. He had no other words to mean it.He was sitting but he felt like a strong energy coming from him and reaching him. He felt his eyes on him. Almost felt them burning his back. He truly sensed it.
It was annoying. Why is he interested in me?
They didn't look at each other. They pretended, both, not to look at each other.
In the end, he was disappointed when he was not there. When he arrived at that place and he didn't find him sitting at his usual post in front of his computer he felt he was missing a part of his day. What he was doing he had no idea. But slowly, day after day he had become curious about what he was doing, what he was working on. A couple of times, he had been able to peek at the screen of his computer. Maybe he was working with Photoshop.
He always sat partnered with another guy. His boyfriend? He thought so, because sometimes they were joking and laughing very close. He probably was the female in the couple, because he had the look of a cunning slut. A scandalous look of a mischievous and scandalous slut.
Those days it was becoming hot and he was wearing a white cotton vest leaving his shoulders bare as a young slut.
That dragged him more to him, to desire that young slut.
That slut look-like amped up his prowess for that energy flowing between him and him.
He looked past him. In the opposite direction of him. Through the enormous windows facing the city, its roofs, the crossroads, the green trees...
Yes, it is energy. I have no other explanation. He thought.
They never spoke a word but he could almost sense it in the air the desire to talk and touch each other, and this surprised him.
That day he had foolishly thought that the Ikea space was empty, with a few people. It was Friday afternoon, 2 am.
The only seat free instead was in front of him. He hesitated. Then he decided not to sit there. He was surprised. He was a straight guy. How come he was attracted by another male?
He didn't find any reason. The only reason, he thought, to be taken into consideration, was the energy. That strong and inescapable energy had taken him off-guard.
But he resisted. He didn't give up.
TO BE CONTINUED (MAYBE)...
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May 12, 2023
Why so many men are evil and are pleased to rule the other men as slave and subject - as we see in the Evil which dominates globalism?
Folly is inhabiting man as well as the divine. They compensate each other but they struggle and fight at the same time. This is what is bringing about the human drama of homo interior.
Dostoevsky is the author who best depicts madness in man, which suffocates the vitalism of homo interior (where the equipoise between madness and divine is perfectly working) to such a point that puts him in a cramped corner of his soul, the underground, where folly is taking the upper hand in man.
In the incipit of Notes from the Underground, the main character describes his folly as, initially, an illness which then transforms into pleasure for illness and finally he savours it as a sweet and rewarding pleasure of his folly.
"I am a sick man…. I am an angry man. I am an unattractive man. I think there is something wrong with my liver. But I don’t understand the least thing about my illness, and I don’t know for certain what part of me is affected. I am not having any treatment for it, and never have had, although I have a great respect for medicine and for doctors. I am besides extremely superstitious, if only in having such respect for medicine. (I am well educated enough not to be superstitious, but superstitious I am.) No, I refuse treatment out of spite. That is something you will probably not understand. Well, I understand it. I can’t of course explain who my spite is directed against in this matter; I know perfectly well that I can’t ‘score off’ the doctors in any way by not consulting them; I know better than anybody that I am harming nobody but myself. All the same, if I don’t have treatment, it is out of spite. Is my liver out of order? – let it get worse!
I have been living like this for a long time now – about twenty years. I am forty. I once used to work in the government service but I don’t now. I was a bad civil servant. I was rude, and I enjoyed being rude. After all, I didn’t take bribes, so I had to have some compensation. (A poor witticism; but I won’t cross it out. When I wrote it down, I thought it would seem very pointed: now, when I see that I was simply trying to be clever and cynical, I shall leave it in on purpose.) When people used to come to the desk where I sat, asking for information, I snarled at them, and was hugely delighted when I succeeded in hurting somebody’s feelings."
And it is in this acceptance of being mad and rejoicing in their own madness that people gain a new status where they believe that everything is possible. Because they cancelled the homo interior, they suppressed the divine and chose the route of delirium where the folly of believing in a man harnessed by his own power (intelligence, blood skin and bones) is the only logically consequential reason that drives him to his destruction.
For the same reason, the oligarchs who rule the world are not so far from the conclusions of Dostoevsky's Man of the Underground: "The main point, and the supreme nastiness, lay in the fact that even at my moments of greatest spleen, I was constantly and shamefully aware that not only was I not seething with fury, I was not even angry; I was simply scaring sparrows for my own amusement."And when you get to this point there is nothing that has a logical ground, everything is done just for your own madness.
And what we are living in now is, in fact, a world where folly has reached its highest pitch in human history.
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May 9, 2023
Con gli occhi guardare - Poesie 2020 - 2023
Pubblico dopo molti anni, tanti anni, una raccolta di poesie. La poesia era morta in me. E' rinata nei mesi dell'orrore, quelli in cui abbiamo dovuto subire ogni sorta di angheria in nome di una grande falsità. I primi testi di questa raccolta rispecchiano quelle atmosfere, per poi allargarsi a meditazioni vissute post orrore. In cui l'animo prova di nuovo a respirare a cercare le memorie la bellezza e l'amore.
Si può leggere in Academia: https://www.academia.edu/101479870/Con_gli_occhi_guardare_Poesie_2020_2023
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May 8, 2023
Viene di lontano il sole
Viene di lontano il sole che lungo la strada brilla. E' freddo. Ma il sole brilla. Cammino lungo il viale che da casa porta verso il supermercato. E' una luce morbida e ha un suo odore questa strada sotto gli alberi. E il vento che porta il sole che brilla viene di lontano. Viene forse dal mare del nord. Dalla Finlandia.
Ha il sapore del mare del Nord. Ha l'odore antico di una terra marina dove perdersi è facile. Porta grandi spazi in cui perdersi. E ogni giorno che cammino per queste strade mi perdo nel vento, i miei elettroni si staccano e mi abbandonano, e mi allontano dal centro, che muore sempre più distante.
E il sole dopo lunghi mesi di cielo nero mi brilla dentro e dentro brilla il sole al cielo finalmente azzurro.
È come rinascere, mi dico, e lo sento. Rinascere alla vita tramite nuovi sensi. I sensi della primavera.
E viene la primavera lungo le strade di Vilnius e si annuncia alla gente che ancora frettolosa, quasi temesse sempre il gelo, comincia a sperare e alla nuova luce crede.
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May 7, 2023
Verrò da te
Verrò da te Claudina, mi porterà
Il vento del nord.
Verrò lungo i viali del nulla
Lungo corridoi di luce.
Seguirò la strada delle foglie
E del respiro degli Alberi.
E ti vedrò, dolce lo sguardo
Il tocco morbido della tua mano
Sarà il saluto di un padre a sua figlia
Piangerò lacrime ma felice
Quel pianto come benedizione
scenderà e in silenzio parlerà
Di una notte eterna e senza fine.
