Messner was the first person to climb Everest without supplemental oxygen, the first solo of the same, and the first to climb all 14 peaks over 8,000m. He lost his brother (and seven toes and fingers) climbing Nanga Parbat, his first climb in the Himalaya’s.

Great interview, especially the first few and last minutes. His thoughts on challenge, new generations, aging, and mountains impressed me. More than just a mountaineer.

The show and anchor are annoying, but generally some good stuff. Messner and Christine are kick-ass. “Mountaineering is nothing else than fighting against death.” (Messner)

I started reading Schakleton’s “South” yesterday, very inspiring. His advertisement to recruit crewmen for the expedition:

Men Wanted: For hazardous journey. Small wages, bitter cold, long months of complete darkness, constant danger, safe return doubtful.

Start: 20080514 [20:3|135] 1709 UTC
End: 20080514 [20:3|135] 1950 UTC
Location: Traversa Giulio Cesare, 80125, Napoli, Campania, Italia
Timezone: UTC+2

I’m writing this entry about a week after the events happened, so I might be missing in some details.

I went to sleep late, my guess is sometime around 0200. I rose at 0745 and showered, hygiened and dressed. I had packed the night before.

I left a little too late, at 0825. Running, I made it to Bologna Centrale in time for the train. I boarded at 0840– just when it was supposed to leave. Did not have time to get my ticket. The train stayed on the platform for another five minutes before leaving the station, so I would have had time. I made the best decision with what I knew at time, so I was not too bothered. I informed the capotreno about my lack of a ticket, and he told me it was fine.

The train started moving. It was a nice day, sunny, clear, high visibility. The train ride to Forlì is nice, passing through the farmland with hills in the distance. I thought a lot, especially about KJB, since then it had just been 3 days since it had been over. A girl came to check tickets afterwards, and told me that apparently I must have informed the previous capotreno. Despite her mild skepticism, I payed no fine (but did pay the on train prices). Otherwise the journey was uneventful.

I arrived in Forlì around 0930. I got out a snapped a photograph of the tracks, then went to the arrival hall. I met SM and we got into the car and drove towards the center. We parked our car near some hotel with some interesting architecture, then walked through the town center. Though I had driven with SM through Forlì to get to Bertinoro on 20070911, I had not been in the center. It was prettier than what I had thought previously, seeing only areas further out. We walked to a cartoleria to pick up a guest book. SM got a nice one even though it was not quite what he was looking for.

We then walked across the street to the Fondazione Cassa dei Risparmi di Forlì headquarter’s building, where the exhibit that SM had organized was on display.

The exhibit was on Rodrigo Pais, an Italian photographer who’s career and photographs spanned from around 1955-1998. Specifically, the exhibit covered a selection of the photographer’s first 5 years– capturing most of all Italy’s period the “boom economico”. SM ad been put in charge of archiving, restoring and digitizing Pais’ 360,000+ photographs by the Ministero per i Beni e le Attività Culturali (Ministry of Cultural Heritage and Activities) and by the Università di Bologna. The exhibit was thus also a showcase of the first set of photographs that had been restored and digitized.

We entered the building, but having arrived before the actual opening hours of the exhibit, had to go get the key to the exhibition area. We did so, on the way SM showing me a few of the smaller meeting rooms of the building. The building was elegant and the design was good– a blend of high-tech and modern design with wood and the building’s fresco’s and layout (I am guessing the building was from the early Renaissance). It was nice and one could tell quite well that this was a center of financial power (though not in a nouveau-riche kind of way, thank god). Still, I could not hold back the usual thoughts on how much is wasted for the sake of appearance– the functionalist in me could not help but criticize the excess.

We picked up the key and proceeded back to the exhibition area. On the way down, SM informed me that, now having seen the level of investment in the headquarters and the high tech gear, he could tell me that the place had no way of playing MP3’s for the exhibit. He had to make do, in fact, with an iMac G3. He complained that the foundation had in fact made the exhibit hard to plan, giving him only two weeks to set it up and failing to provide many things. Besides the MP3, for example, the guest book that he had just acquired was with his own money. On the other hand, the other exhibit currently being hosted by the foundation, on Cagnacci (who’s paintings all look the same, he joked) was generously funded. He commented that this showed how in Italy photography is still considered a lesser art. He said, in fact, that he had projects to try to bring the exhibit (modified and expanded) elsewhere– the United States, if possible– where he thought the exhibit will probably be received better than Italy itself. He asked me to keep in mind while seeing the exhibit if I thought it would be possible for it to have an American audience.

When we got there, he setup the music while I started on the exhibition. The photographs, in much reduced size and quality, are available here: http://www.almapress.unibo.it/pais_italia/index.html. The exhibit was very good and quite interesting. The photographs were great and beyond their artistic value had incredible historical one. One really got a sensation of a society in transformation, the coming of modernity, one could say. On the one hand– cars, jets, advertising, celebrities, politicians, media. On the other– farmers, religion, poverty, the Lira currency and inflation, the lack of automation. Of course even the more modern aspects had their own sense of history– the way the cars looked, celebrities and politicians which are now dead and recognized just by their last names.

The images were all Rome oriented, as that was Pais’ main hunting ground. I could not help but think of the last time I was there with KJB, in 200802 and with JAB in 200712.

After the exhibit I finally saw the iMac that had played the music for the exhibition. I was surprised to see that the iMac had not only been running the software to play the tracks, but was using it’s little speakers to cover the whole exhibition ground. I can’t say I was not impressed by what I have always considered a junk computer (which I was tortured by having to use in 8^th grade at Horace Mann). The playlist for the exhibition was composed of music from the era, and was nice. The music be downloaded here: http://dwrz.net/archival/multimedia/audio/music/PaisItaliaExhibitionMusic.zip.

As we were closing up, we noticed an elderly man had gotten in and started seeing the exhibition. He seemed to have been of the age where he was perhaps an adolescent at the time the photographs were taken, and seemed taken by them. Unfortunately as the exhibition was not really open to the public at the time and we were closing up we had to ask him out. He said he would come back later; he seemed interested in the photographs. On the way to return the key to the management we stopped by the press room of the foundation. Again, impressive. SM told me that it was here that his book (Soglie) had been revealed.

Afterwards we walked back to the car– stopping on the way to see Canova’s Ebe– and drove off. SM said we would go eat a good restaurant, but admitted he was not sure if it was open or not. When I asked him a few minutes later where we were heading, he’ll replied, “You’ll see.” Some time after (enjoying the beautiful landscape and sun) I noticed that most signs were pointing towards– Predappio. I recalled the name but did not know why I could, and asked SM, who gave me the same answer as earlier, with a smile. Shortly after passing a sign marking the town, we pulled up on a road and got out. I had only to look into the first store window to start laughing and to recall what the place was known for.

We walked into one store and I picked up 4 postcards from the era. The stuff they had for sale was sometimes extreme and it was, to say the least, a unique place. I payed, and noticed that the store girl was rather pretty (brown hair, blue eyes) but also that she did not really give the same impression the rest of the store did. After we got back in the car, SM told me that in fact it is doubtful as to whether many of the shops are even of that cultural-political affiliation, and probably it is just a case of wise merchants. The area, in fact, had voted for the Partito Democratico in the last elections, and the mayor was a known leftist (who is apparently annoyed when people confuse him as otherwise).

We drove forwards a bit and arrived at the house where Mussolini was born. It was a nice house. Pointing up to the hill it lay on was a monumental like structure. SM told me that it was originally a grand kind of triumphal arc on axis with the house, but that it had been so over the top that Mussolini himself asked the architects to tone down the monument.

We got back in and drove on, going to the cemetery where Mussolini’s mausoleum lay. The cemetery was nice, but the mausoleum was nothing much, and rather simple. It was almost kind of homey, and what one could tell more than anything else was the large presence of his family, who had equally large tombs around his. Ho Chi Minh– whom I saw in 2001– is buried in grander style (and, of course, alone).

We drove on to see a few examples of the Nationalist/Rationalist style of architecture in the city, then an abandoned plane factory. We then proceeded to the ristorante-enoteca, called La Vëcia Cantêna d’la Prè (previously called Cà dè Sanzves) and located in Predappio Alta.

It was a nice place, with a unique, quiet, countryside feel to it. One large window faced some green hills, and the entire place was surrounded with old wine bottles. We ordered, then went down to the basement to see a place where wine was once made. Huge wooden barrels and other wine making equipment all on three different floors. The temperature was cool and quite a surprising difference from the surface. After taking a few photographs we went back upstairs and chatted, contiuing after the food arrived. We had some crostini, then I had some tortelli with meat and zucca (SM had tagliatelle with porcini), then some chicken breast and potatoes, and a desert. I don’t remember the name of the wine. It was all good, a rustic feel with exceptional ingredients. Though it was simple, it was done well. It was the best meal I had had in a long time.

Full, we walked back to the car, I enjoyed the fresh air. We drove to SM’s office in Bertinoro. He gave me two copies of the catalog for the Pais exhibit and two copies of his most recent book, Il Sorriso e la Maschera, on the Romagna region of Italy. My memory card was full so we made a backup of the photographs (with some music SM wanted to share) on a DVD. I browsed the net and then took a nap while SM did some work. Later I talked to SM’s brother, MM who is in the Marina and lives in Cagliari, Sardinia. He again extended his invite to come over any time, and it was good to hear from him and, as with SM, have contact with the extended family.

We drove to Cesena and took a walk, then stopped for an aperitivo on a bar by a park. I had a Paulaner and some small pizzette and peanuts and a few chips (my first in years, probably). It was nice and relaxing. Cesena was also a rather pretty town. I was impressed that both Forlì and Cesena were so much cleaner and quieter than Bologna. We drove to SM’s house, which was large and thankfully (unlike the dormitory in Bologna or my aunt’s place in Napoli)– dead quiet. SM gave me two books, one on Schackleton, one by Shackleton. He then prepared a quick dinner (refusing my offer to help), so I watched a National Geographic documentary on Shackleton, then proceeded to read his South. It was inspirational, especially in light of the coming journey’s I plan to make to the arctic circle and the Alps.

Dinner was a good minestrone. I put some red pepper into mine, and mate note to take some on my trips– a good way to heat up when cold. I then had some pecorino with a type of red pepper preserve called fuoco di Calabria (fire of Calabria). It was hot (nothing outrageous, a shy weaker than habanero Tabasco) but absolutely delicious, especially with the cheese. I had some wine made by a neighbor and topped everything off with a liquer from Benevento, Strega. SM had been to Chamonix and Zermatt before, so I asked him a few questions about the area. We made plans for the next morning, made my bed in the guest room, and said goodnight. I read a few more pages of Shackleton’s South, then knocked out pleasantly in absolute darkness and silence.

Start: 20080505 [19:1|126] ~2030 UTC
End: 20080505 [19:1|126] 2152 UTC
Location: via Barberia 12, 40123, Bologna, Emilia-Romagna, Italia
Timezone: UTC+2

I woke up at 0320 this morning. I dressed and packed. Nonna was up and she handed me some stuff to take down and chatted with me a bit. At 0345, dressed and packed up, I went downstairs.

I was only there a few minutes until the cab arrived. I loaded my pack in the trunk, then got in. The streets were empty and the driver was efficient, so it took about 15min or less to arrive at Napoli Centrale. He got out my pack, commented on how heavy it was (it wasn’t, really). I payed him (20 Euro), got my change, and walked away. Compared to the last time I took a taxi in Napoli (on 20080101, trying to catch an early train to go see KJB in Rome, while sick) the driver was very good and well mannered, which was nice.

Being back at the station was strange. This was where KJB had departed on 20080502. I was on track 15, the same one she left from. I felt like the soldiers in Platoon going back to an ugly place, “the scene of the crime”. I took a few photographs. There were a lot of immigrants around, mostly Arabs or Turks, I’m not sure. At one point someone started shouting obscenities at them, calling them “fedayeen” talking about how Italy had civilized their world and that they were all in for it. Some things he said were quite vulgar and brutal. The men did not reply to the provocation. There was police there, who did nothing. The man walked away.

The train arrived around 0425. The front cars behind the locomotive were unusual, and holding a few automobiles here and there. Had not seen something like it before. As I walked towards the passenger cars, I noticed a lot of activity, like ants. As I got closer I noticed dozens and dozens of immigrants taking many boxes off the train, from nearly all the cars. It seemed like a kind of strange transport or supply operation. They got a dozen boxes per car off in only a couple of minutes. then they got off too, carrying with them some simple metallic trolleys. It was interesting, unusual. I got on the train, found a car with only one dude in it, got in, put my pack on the opposite chair, and reclined. The man, who looked like he was in his late twenties, woke up and started eating a sandwich. He smelled, only very faintly, of marijuana. I lay back and closed my eyes. At 0433, he asked me something which I did not understand. He spoke Spanish. I figured out he was asking if he had time to grab a water bottle from the machines on the track. The train was supposed to leave at 0433, so I told him no, but offered him some of mine, which he took, then thanked me. The train started to move and I went to sleep.

It did not really feel like sleep. I woke up at one spot and thought we had arrived, but instead it was still dark outside. I was surprised that despite having felt like sleeping, time was passing so slowly. At another stop (or was it at that one?) another mad got on. I couldn’t tell if he was polizia or a security guard. He sat down on the opposite side, next to the pack. I went back to sleep. At 0705 or so we arrived in Roma. The Spanish dude asked me if it was Rome, I told him yes. Picked up my pack and moved out. Got off the train.

In Roma it was cool and humid. Gray weather. I thought about KJB, about how the times I had spent with her here, about how many times I had been to Roma Termini recently. In the past, before this trip, maybe I had been there only once or twice. Now it has really taken the position of hub, I don’t know how many times and memories I have of it now. It is a charged place, emotionally, in the same way that San Martino is a charged place, for me. Strange. Anyway, I felt down and walked to my train, on track 5. I walked down to car number 9, boarded. I put my pack by the luggage compartment near the doors, then walked to seat 43, sat down. I had a peach fruit juice carton, a peach yogurt, and a plain “bianco” yogurt. Then I tried to rest. A middle aged couple got on, and the man insisted the seat that I was in was number 41, even though it wasn’t. Because 43 was by the window and 41 was by the aisle, I switched without saying anything, since I prefer the aisle and wanted to be able to get up and go check on my pack often. Even though I was not bothered by it and actually gained something from it, I could not help but wonder why he had such an uppity attitude about it, instead of simply saying if it was alright for me to switch seats so that he could sit across from his wife. The train left at 0730.

I went to sleep. I recall noticing that I probably slept with my mouth wide open in front of everyone, which is what happens when I sleep very little. It was funny and helped me off to sleep. When we stopped at Firenze I got up and walked to my pack and stayed with it until the doors were closed and we were heading to Bologna. I woke up just as the train pulled into Bologna. I got up and moved out just as the doors opened. From there I walked quickly to class, noticing the shitty weather in Bologna.

I walked all the way to class, and got there late. I dropped my bag in the hallway, and went in. We talked about how the parties and Italian government has evolved in the last twenty years, running up from Tangentopoli all the way to this year’s election. As usual, the class reinforced my belief that the political system here is broken, outdated, and in need of an overhaul. The one thing this country needs– a new constitution– is something it won’t get until things get worse. Italy is a perfect example of a place where the faster things go bad, the better it will likely recover. Right now, mediocrity, feeble attempts to stave off decline. If only they let things crash and burn, and start again on a tabula rasa…

After class (1200) I walked back to the dorm, noticing as I walked up how much the place felt and looked like a prison. I unpacked a bit, got online, and wrote to my parents as I ate some frittata that Nonna had prepared for me. I checked out some other stuff online, figured out what to do for my RyanAir tickets, replied to some Facebook posts from JAB, then organized. Then I took out my sleeping bag and went to sleep. I slept from 1400 or so until 1620. I got up, showered, and took care of some laundry. I had not washed my shorts, boxers and socks in a couple of days, and I was quite relieved to finally take care of it. I also washed my pants and my SmartWool mid-layer.

After taking care of these, I began moving forward with final gear acquisitions for the TMB-WHR. I wrote to SM and FC, trying to organize some appointments. Began packing for moving out of here. I’ll have a lot of stuff to take down with me to Napoli on 20080508– I’m not sure yet how I’ll manage. I’ll probably have two backpacks and a luggage (non towable), probably over 40kg of stuff. 45min to get from class to the station. We’ll see.

MM came in around 2000 hours. It was nice having him back for a change. We chatted for a bit about recent events, public and private. At around 2115 or so we went down and cooked dinner together. Pasta with some tomato and fish sauce. I also made myself some chamomile with tea. We chatted a bit while talking, but it was difficult. The American ECCO kids, at a big table, were shouting and yelling. The room has a lot of echo so it was at some points quite painful for the ears. I thought about my return to Wesleyan this Fall. I’m not really looking forward to it, but I hope that I’ll be more ready for it, and find a good balance. I can’t say I am looking forward to being back in the college bubble. I’ve always hated it. In any case, I came to the conclusion that basically things suck everywhere, but in different ways. Life is pick your poison.

I washed the dishes afterwards, then went upstairs. I replied quickly to a few emails and then began writing this. Fuck. I forgot to register my start time. I’ll have to guesstimate it. In any case, that is everything for now. I’m not sure what I’ll do the rest of the night.

Tomorrow I have to be up early. I have a train at 0840 for Forli, to meet up with SM. I have to return to him a laptop he lent me last semester. Dear lord. To think that last semester I was without Ulysses (my laptop) and I had first no computer, then SM’s, then MGR’s. I don’t know how I ever pulled through (in large part, thanks to Linux). Anyway, it will be good to wake up early and to get out of Bologna, even though I don’t really feel like moving around much. If I get back early I might go workout. We’ll see.

As for tonight, I’ll write a few emails, pack some more maybe, work on TMB-WHR maybe. I’m pretty tired, so hopefully I’ll hit the sack soon. Not much else. Should try to call my family.

Otherwise, I’m doing alright. Now, I am so-so. Most of today, especially coming back and my time here before 2000 I was doing pretty badly. That is probably how I am truly feeling. Sometimes I feel quite motivated and hopeful. But overall, I am still very hurt, sad, disappointed, angry. This whole thing is absurd. Mostly an effect I think from illusions and appearances versus reality. I expected my story with KJB to last a long time if not forever, at least most pessimistically to end in August. Then because of the distance or other such things. I felt like the hard part had almost just been over, like now I would be spending more time with her– exactly what the relationship needed. I felt like she had brought a certain promise and commitment. Then when we met on 20080502, kissing, crying, holding hands, telling each other we loved each other. It just feels absurd, stupid, counter-instinctive. Instead here it is again, the same old shit. Quitting, lack of commitment… wavering or ambiguous desire as to whether be in a relationship or not. In any case, it’s hard to go through. Reminders everywhere. At the same time, pressure. Academic pressure. Pressure from personal projects. I still have TMB-WHR to go through and I really hope I’ll be in a better state then than I am now. I need to be calm and clearheaded for that journey, otherwise there is no way I’ll be able to achieve the primary objective. Practical concerns for that as well. What a mess.

Anyway, 15min until midnight, so I’m going to wrap this up. I hope to post other journal entries soon.

Start: 20080504 [18:7|125] 2115 UTC
End: 20080504 [18:7|125] 2256 UTC
Location: Traversa Giulio Cesare, 80125, Napoli, Campania, Italia
Timezone: UTC+2

Adios, Europa.

I’m sitting here and I have to go soon. It’s now 2316 and I have a train to catch at 0433. I have to go back up to Bologna. I have two more lessons to attend, and then I’m done. I still have my exams to go through. But the end is approaching to my stay in Bologna.

Things have ended with KJB.

I have tickets to fly to Stockholm on 20080509. I don’t know if I will. I will call Ryanair to see if they can shift the tickets to another place– Malta, Barcelona, Paris. If they can, I might go. If they can’t, I might go anyway, but go to Oslo or something. If they can or can’t, I might just not go at all, and just head back south towards Napoli. I was going up to be a stay-at-home boyfriend, studying hard for exams. I can’t really travel. We’ll see.

I have my ECCO exams in a couple of weeks. Then 20080523 I have tickets up again. It’s more probable I’ll actually travel that time. If Ryanair can shift me somewhere else, great. I don’t really want to go back to Stockholm. I’ve already been a bit too saturated by that world and culture. I’ve also lost my main attraction to it. If they can’t, I’ll probably go. Then head North. Maybe Oslo. Maybe just North. Above the Arctic Circle maybe. I don’t even really want to see Arlanda, to be honest. I don’t need any nostalgia. Time will tell.

May has come and it has come beautifully. The weather here has been fantastic the past few days. It hit me as a shock this year. I don’t know where Spring went. It was just very cold and then suddenly very hot. Maybe shifting around so much– Stockholm, New York– has done that. Maybe I just don’t get out enough anymore, these days. I need a PDA again, so I can be on the computer (read: extended brain) and be out at the same time. Anyway I feel like the sun is back and it’s a surprise rather than a gradual shift. May is here and my experience in Bologna is coming to an end.
I stay in Europe until 20080719. Then I am gone and I won’t be back for a long time. The thought scares me. Where’s home? Where am I ever going to settle down? This sickness comes up, feeling like I ought to be in Shanghai, Napoli, New York all at the same time. I wish the world was still Pangea.

About all I know is, I sort of miss everybody I told about. Even old Stradlater and Ackley, for instance. I think I even miss that goddamn Maurice. It’s funny. Don’t ever tell anybody anything. If you do, you start missing everybody.
(J.D Salinger, The Catcher in the Rye)

When I was here, I wanted to be there; when I was there, all I could think of was getting back into the jungle.
(Apocalypse Now)

Instead this. Missing New York and Shanghai when I am in Italy. Missing family. Missing regularity, things working. And yet I know that when I will be there, all I’ll be able to think of is missing it here. Until it gets cheaper and faster to travel the world, all it is is heartbreak always.

I’ll be in New York. Then China. Then back in New York. Then back at Wesleyan. Things here have been so crazy, so good and so bad, and back in the States it will be so much simpler again (haha?). I didn’t really think this was all going to turn out to be such an adventure. It’ll have been a crazy 10 months by the time I finish it. Bologna, hanging out with the ECCO kids, Oktoberfest, Torino, Paris, Napoli… Roma in 200712, KJB, New York, Stockholm, Roma, New York, Stockholm, Napoli, KJB, Bologna, academics, traveling with Simon, TMB-WHR.

I’ve seen things you people wouldn’t believe. Attack ships on fire off the shoulder of Orion. I watched c-beams glitter in the dark near the Tannhäuser Gate. All those … moments will be lost in time, like tears…in rain.
(Blade Runner)

To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven: a time to be born, and a time to die; a time to plant, and a time to pluck up that which is planted; a time to kill, and a time to heal; a time to break down, and a time to build up; a time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance; a time to cast away stones, and a time to gather stones together; a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing; a time to get, and a time to lose; a time to keep, and a time to cast away; a time to rend, and a time to sew; a time to keep silence, and a time to speak; a time to love, and a time to hate; a time of war, and a time of peace.
(Ecclesiastes 3:1-8)

Nostalgia. Loss. Coming to terms with what has happened. Perspective. Relationships have a bad tendency to pull me very much into life, and limit thinking and perspective. I can believe from personal experience that so many thinkers were by necessity also solitaries. It is very hard to not give up reflection when in the midst of love or other such strong feelings. When they end it always feels like one has just woken up from a dream. Maybe that is just how it is at the start. Maybe the reflection comes back. It wasn’t that with MST, though. Although this time with KJB the thinking did not go away. It was just different. I thought but with more of a hurry, and also more practically.

Hmm. I remember writing somewhere that “nothing gives the illusion of telos more than love for another”. Something along those lines. Perhaps because love does that many will stop thinking for it. The answer is there, it seems. And maybe it is, until one loses it.

Anyway, I’m thinking about my experience here. Evaluating it. Judging it. It went alright. It’s been strange. I cannot shy away from the feeling of failure though. I had several objectives when coming to Italia. To spend more time with family, to understand Italy and Europe more, to travel. I achieved all, sure, but nowhere to the levels I wanted to. The reasons all those objectives failed was because of me. I am at fault for them. I did not plan enough and I did not have enough clear ideas or commitment. But one other thing got in the way. I had another objective that had nothing to do with Italy except that it came to me at the same time. The objective was to get into another relationship and to grow. I spent my first semester trying things out, and while I met some nice people, I also realized even more how hard it is for someone like me to find a partner. Then KJB happened, and it was great but rough, very rough. And now KJB is over. Frankly, if I could have walked away with this one objective, everything would have been sweet. It was very close to being so. But here, this objective has been totally failed.

Yet here the fault is only partially mine. I am fully to blame for many things, but I step back from saying, like I did in my journal entry from 20080423– that it was mostly my fault, and that I am the cause for my own misery. Time and thought has shown that this is not the case at all. Here it was not I that failed. I’m not perfect, and I’ve got a lot of things to work on. To extend this to saying it is the cause of the objective failing is idiocy. The circumstances tell half the tale. As for the rest, I chose the wrong person.

Do I go back empty handed? Far from it. A wealth of experience, a bounty of lessons learned. I’ve pillaged wisdom from Europa. But I went out to capture something and I didn’t. Haven’t, I mean.

I feel like the reflections of a German soldier from War World II. In the distance, the spires of Moscow. So close they seemed. An illusion– they would never get there, and it was a stupid illusion that they ever thought it possible. But to them it seemed so.

KJB was from the start something I did not expect to work. But desire put away and shut up my fears, and I made a leap of faith. Not all the way. But having been left twice and put on hold and played with for over a year and a half, it was not possible for me to leap all the way. When things started to not work, in fact, my faith was so great that I pointed the finger at myself first of all. The little lack of faith I had pointed the finger elsewhere– and I luckily gave it reason, too (this was a case where doubts and fears were true). But mostly the faith blamed me. I thought so until the end, though things began to fade. Now I am awake (still in bed– still under many illusions, I am sure– but awake) and I see things the way I did just before I began to dream. I see things now the way I did at the end of 200712 and at the beginning of 200801– things would not work because this person was incapable of commitment, a quitter, not serious. Perhaps that is too harsh. KJB was capable of commitment– but to a boyfriend, not to what I wanted– a friend, a companion, a comrade, a partner. There can be no blame. She is 25. It is I that am, like in so many other things, before my time. I’m thinking things as if I was 30. As a 30 year old who spends most of his time on his own or with the company of the speaking dead and who is very busy with his projects and missions but realizes that if he wants a family and certain things in his life he better get moving. Frankly if I could pay a woman to father my children and pay another to raise them with me– I would not be so worried at all. Probably best if I get off this digression.

I am too demanding, for most. Probably. I am very demanding on life in general. On myself. Aut Caesar, aut Nihil. That is what I drink to. I need to find others that do too.

Ah, dealing with loss. In the last two weeks I have not just lost a person I loved. I have lost, maybe, two plane tickets. I have lost a team mate for a major project, major mess now trying to adapt to this. I’ve lost a girl to be with in the Alps, in China, through my senior year. A perspective. Many things. “The promise of happiness”, isn’t that what Stendhal said of beauty?

I can’t help but think, though, that by being too demanding, I have lost something great. To that, I tell myself, what was lacking would have made problems and revealed itself at some point later if not now. But what if I tolerated it and then it grew? If, if, if. No. There’s not much more thinking to be done on this aspect. I wanted to continue and I believed it true. The other did not and I cannot lie to myself and say that it seems as nothing else but a mistake. Of course, I will do what I have to do now and move on. Without a doubt. I will still reflect much on this though.

I will have to be more clear with the next person. I will not allow this to happen again to me. Treated this way, not taken seriously and responsibly. Otherwise, it will be only masochism. Maybe that’s what it was, for me to get back with KJB. I have only been disappointed in the same way as always with her. I guess it is good that this silly little game is over. Enough is enough.

So, it has been “Adios, KJB” and soon it will be “Adios, Europa”. Then the ocean and time will get in between both, and things that were operational will become archival. Both will hurt and fuck with my head for a while. Then it will pass.

So if the Bull is Life and I am the Matador, I have just been gored. It happens. To the bad or inexperienced Matadors but also to the Courageous ones– and especially those who are both, like me. The wound will heal, the scar will stay, and in time I’ll be back in the ring.

Now I am off to pack. Tonight will be another night of sleeping little on the train. *sigh* Another night with a broken heart and tears that still won’t come out.

Rejoice, O young man, in thy youth; and let thy heart cheer thee in the days of thy youth, and walk in the ways of thine heart, and in the sight of thine eyes… therefore remove sorrow from thy heart, and put away evil from thy flesh: for childhood and youth are vanity.
(Ecclesiastes 11:9-10)

Start: 20080426 [17:6|117] ~1518 UTC
End: 20080426 [17:6|117] ~2140 UTC
Location: via Barberia 12, 40123, Bologna, Emilia-Romagna, Italia
Timezone: UTC+2

He who is not everyday conquering some fear has not learned the secret of life.
(Ralph Waldo Emerson)

Summary: DWRZ walks 40+ km to jump off a bridge.

On 20080425, I left my dorm at 0320. I walked 2km to the Bologna rail station, then took the 0412 train to Milano. I had an uncomfortable seat in the hallway of the car and slept intermittently and poorly until my arrival at 0705. I switched to the train for Novara, and I slept most of the journey from 0715 to 0757. At Novara I got the train to Cossato, again sleeping most of the journey, 0805-0840. With only about 3 hours of sleep in the last 24 hours and a 15kg pack, I began my walk towards Veglio.

The day was sunny and warm throughout. Terrain was subalpine, rural hills of northwestern Piedmont, the Alps rising over the northern horizon. I followed a superstrada for most of the walk, passing mostly through villages and forest, occasionally a stream, an abandoned house or a complex of villas. I was surprised by the beauty of the villages and houses. The architectural style was reminiscent of Turin, but a lot simpler.

I encountered a few people along the way and was struck by their behavior. Everyone said hello and smiled. With a few I exchanged some comments. A middle-aged man right outside of Cossato asked me where I was heading, wished me luck, and told me walking was good and good for the health. At Valle Mosso, passing by a playground, children stopped playing, stared, and asked among themselves what I could possibly be carrying in my pack (it was sleeping bag, bivy, rain jacket, rain pants, sneakers, hand-sanitizer, food, 2 books, binoculars, utensils, about 3L of water, camera, extra batteries, a few other things– plus items I was carrying on my person). An elderly farmer near Mosso asked me, jokingly, if he could have my binoculars (I was using my camera).

At Valle Mosso, a bit lost (I had no map, only vague directions and some research with Google Maps) and seeking a shortcut, I took a “wrong” turn. I ended up heading towards Mosso instead of Veglio. Both connected to the bridge I was heading towards, but while Mosso was closer in terms of linear distance, the road made far more turns and the terrain was a lot steeper. The village of Mosso was nice to walk through, but I made my journey unnecessarily strenuous and added an extra 8km or so to my walk. I reached the bridge (nicknamed “Colossus”) at 1150, 10 minutes before I was supposed to be there. I had covered over 20km in about three hours. My feet were blistered (I had not stopped once) and I was soaked in sweat. I had, however, made it.

I checked in at the reception, paid, switched to my sneakers, and headed back to the bridge. The actual height of the bridge was far less than I had imagined (the initial drop is 152m, my guess is the bridge height is about 180m), in terms of its effect. It was not at all frightening. I watched a few experienced jumpers go, then a rookie tandem jump. I laughed during their jumps, and was very excited. As with skydiving, there were moments of fear and periods of calm. This time, however, the fear was much reduced. Conceptually I had been far more scared of bungee than of skydiving, but in practice the bungee was vastly easier. I don’t know if having skydived and watched others jump before me provided any part of this effect. When my turn came, I felt only a strong sense of commitment and anticipation. The crew was joking around, the cameraman was making faces– it was very different from the seriousness or quiet that took place even among the instructors right before the skydiving jump.

At the ledge, a part of my body was definitely going “holy shit”. But the fear was not any greater than when doing a difficult precision or cat-leap in parkour (where the physical danger is greater). My jump was alright. I would have liked to have held a better position (one of the experienced jumpers did it beautifully, with his legs together and his arms as if he was some kind of jet) and the harness tugged a bit hard on the cojones. The fall, though, was beautiful. It went by a lot slower than I thought it would. As soon as the feet are off, it is just fun and exhilaration. Going back up felt normal, just acceleration in the opposite direction. But the split moment between coming up and going back down again is strange, awesome– I felt like I was slipping in every single direction.

After the third bounce, I pulled myself up and the crew began to lower me down. A crew member at the bottom threw me a rope with a ring, I caught it and he pulled me towards him, then lowered me down. Rope and harness off, I signed a record book, got my certificate, and walked back up towards the bridge. After picking up my DVD, I went back to the reception, picked up my bag, put on my boots, and headed off. The time was around 1430 or so.

On the way back, I made it a point to try to avoid uphill segments, and to get to Valle Mosso as quickly as possible. I took a few shortcuts and at one point made my way through private property, crossing a stream and climbing up a hill through a somewhat dense forest. I was able to cut the distance quite a bit this way and made my way rather quickly to Valle Mosso. From there, I followed the same route back. I took a few rests this time, no more than 5, none over 5 minutes. I was a total wreck by this point– tired, sore, blistered feet and aching bones. Halfway to Cossato, my left quad started cramping, and from then on it was real hell. I felt like I was dragging myself, just throwing my legs off one after the other. From Cossato, there were two train I could have caught to Novara, one at 1741, the other at 1915. As I got closer to Cossato, I realized I needed to pick up the pace. So I did, grunting with every step, wincing when I pressed on the blisters in a bad way. I made it to the station at 1730. I bought my ticket at a bar (there were no machines), then made my way to the track and took off my boots and switched to my sneakers. At 1745, when I had no sight of the train, I went to check the timetable. I had made a mistake– the train had passed at 1714. I was now to wait until 1915. I found a bench, sat on it, and breathed in the magnificent relief of the Alps. I thought for some time about recent events, then, using my shirts for a pillow, I lay down and fell asleep. When I woke up around 1900, I felt totally lost and exhausted. I could barely move my legs– they felt like cement on rusted hinges. I dragged my bag to the train, got in, and fell asleep, suffering from nightmares until 1952. At Novara, I waited for the train to Milano, then boarded that at 2003. More nightmares until 2044. At Milano, I bought my tickets and some credit for my phone, then got on the train. I found a compartment to myself, then fell asleep. I woke up at 2120 when the train departed. The rest of the ride was a cycle of waking up, thinking, falling asleep. At 2352 I reached Bologna, and walked about 1km before managing to catch a bus for the rest of the way.

I got in around 0030. I dropped everything and called my parents, then went straight to bed, setting my alarm for 0500. I was considering going down to Napoli, catching the 0747 train. Partly due to the exhaustion and partly due to other considerations, I was leaning towards not going. I slept through my decision, and woke up at 1330 today (20040826). If it weren’t for the blisters, the soreness, and the general sense of exhaustion, I might have thought of yesterday as a dream or vision. Right now, it feels that way.

Without a doubt, one that I have made come true. Things happened, I lost a companion, I would have to face the jump alone. Then I learned that because of the holiday there would be no public transportation, and I would have to walk. 40+ km in unknown territory, no map, considerable time constraints, 3 hours of bad sleep, the pack. I could easily have just let things go, forgotten about it. But I came through, I went forward under those conditions to complete my objective, and I made it, hooah.

Always do what you are afraid to do.
(Ralph Waldo Emerson)

Start: 20080512 [20:1|1333] 1616 UTC
End: 20080513 [20:2|134] 0044 UTC
Location: Traversa Giulio Cesare, 80125, Napoli, Campania, Italia
Timezone: UTC+2

I’m writing this about 2.5 weeks after it happened. All I have are a few notes to go by. It’s a shame really, as I guess this was an important period in my life. As a day, not much happened– just class, work, planning. Internally, though, I was going through a lot.

The night before, after writing the journal, I had some carrots julienne, with lemon and a good unfiltered olive oil. Then I wrote and talked to my parents. They were very supportive and I remember feeling a lot better talking to them. I can’t really recall the details of the conversations.

I woke up at 0900 in the morning. Showered, hygiened, dressed and went off to class. I don’t remember what we covered. Afterwards I came back, had a talk with my mother, and worked on a paper for my Europe and the Wars of the XXth Century class.

KJB and I had planned for that coming weekend to go and bungee jump together, then head to my aunt’s place in Orvieto and test out our gear for the TMB-WHR. I now had the option to go along with that plan, alone, or instead to head south to Napoli, and stay with family. I was leaning towards the second, mostly because I knew that it would make me feel better. At the same time, I really wanted to go bungee, and most of all, I wanted to defy the circumstances– and perhaps, also, KJB.

Bungee had been an objective since 20071111. For me, it was initially something that I had much more fear for than skydiving. After skydiving, though, I noticed that I did not really have much fear for it anymore. In fact, even though skydiving was an amazing experience, I started realizing– not without disappointment– that nothing really scared me anymore. I recall sharing with KJB this discovery. I had been scared of going into the Catacombs alone, but now I think of it as an easy, run-of-the-mill kind of thing. Urban exploration– the same. Skydiving had brought some fear but nothing exceptional. When I train-surfed in Stockholm with KJB it was so easy I don’t even know whether I should count it. Recently, then, I had felt not only the fear of old things gone, but also in general I found that it took much more to bring me to the feeling. On the one hand, it was extremely rewarding to have this kind of strength– to find that on top of my already exceptional courage in the face of fear, the fear too had been domesticated– the lions were now house cats, the dragons now lizards. On the other hand, it had meant boredom, a hard time finding life and excitement, a need to look for new challenges. I told KJB that quite honestly I no longer felt any fear from anything save perhaps combat, going to war, or fighting something gigantic, K2 or something of the sort. What was bungee? Where was the risk? A calculated and safe activity. Sure, the jump. But knowing there is the rope?

So the need to bungee was not so great. I was, however, suspicious. I didn’t want any part of myself to make any goddamn excuses. I didn’t want to avoid confronting myself. After all, there was some fear.

There were some other factors. I did not know when again I would have the chance to try it again– especially from the same or greater length of drop. KJB had already wired the place 40Euro. I wanted to stick to the plan. Other reasons.

I decided to work the option out. If I wanted to go to Napoli, all I had to do was pack and go to the train station and take any train I wanted to. I could always go down 20080426– after bungee, if things got bad.

I did not really think that planning would be anything exceptional. I would take the train, then the bus, then jump, take the bus back, take the train back. Then I realized that 0425 was Liberation Day in Italia, and that as a national holiday most likely transportation would not stick to the usual schedule.

I called the Bungee Center. They OK’d me and told me everything was set, and ready. As for transportation, they told me to not count on anything running. The guy I talked to also looked to see if any member of the team would be passing by my station around the time I got there, see if I could catch a ride. No dice. He gave me some numbers, the region’s tourism and transportation centers. Told me that a shuttle would cost me ~90Euro round trip. I called the tourism offices, they either had no clue or told me not to count on anything. I called a taxi company, round trip 100Euro. Money I did not have to spend. The jump alone would cost me 60Euro– not including the deposits.

At this point, things did not look possible anymore. Out of curiosity, I searched on Google Maps the road from Cossato to Veglio. 16km. I was looking at 32km absolute minimum, round trip. I knew it would turn out to probably be longer. I didn’t know the area, and it wasn’t going to be urban. If I was going to walk, it meant I would have to leave earlier– I wouldn’t even be able to sleep. Since the possibility of getting lost or perhaps missing the train back or spraining an ankle was real– I would have to take a sleeping bag with me, and other things.

At around 1245, I wrote in an email to my brother:

Tomorrow Karin and I were supposed to go bungee together. Granted, this time I’ll be going alone. I’ll have to leave here around 0330, train at 0412, arrive at 0840. From there I’ll have to probably walk (tomorrow is liberation day, so no public transport and the place is really far off… www.bungee.it, it’s at Veglio and I arrive at Cossato) about 15km. I’m supposed to be at the place at 1200 or so, so hopefully I’ll make it in time. Then I jump, don’t know how long that will take. Then I walk back, and try to catch the train. There is one at 1714 and one at 1915. I would get back either at 2042 or 2352. In case I miss both, I have my sleeping bag and bivy and I’ll catch the train at 0521, which will get me to Bologna at 0842 tomorrow. It’s one hell of a trip for a 20 second experience or whatever. So I’m still debating as to whether going or not. But 85% I’ll go.

It was the gaining challenge of the task, in large part, that made me go. A character defect of mine. If I feel like the challenge is real, difficult– I get motivated. It is only the small and petty tasks which inspire idleness (academics, this means you). In any case, it wasn’t going to be just a bungee jump anymore. So I made up my mind to go.

I had some salmon and bread for lunch, then I began packing my bag. This was going to be my first time walking a good distance, and with a light load. I had a Paulaner Weissbier. It was good, but I wasn’t and still am not in the mood for beer.

Afterwards I took a quick break. I tested the Civilization IV Warlords save that SNRZ sent me back. We were testing to see if PBEM worked between Mac and PC– it did. I wrote some emails afterwards. Then I got back to my preparations, doing my usual wash of clothes by hand. Earlier than usual, since I needed the stuff dry by 0300.

In my quick notes for the day, I have “thought about Potsdam.” I can’t really remember the details. I know that I was thinking about Potsdam, about walking through Sans Souci, missing KJB. I can recall it now– maybe it was not what I was thinking two weeks ago– but Sans Souci is always a bittersweet and tender memory for me. I think it was then that I finally and completely got over MST, because I had proof that I had fallen for another girl. This was good news. The bad news was that it was for a girl I thought I could not have, and at the very least could not be with. Sans Souci was beautiful– one of those places where the names are truly fitting (another is… or was… Posillipo). I wanted very much to be walking through it with KJB, hand in hand. Silent. Not saying a goddamn word.

Photographs from that day here: http://gallery.dwrz.net/main.php?g2_itemId=8699. Soon almost two years will have passed. I can hardly believe it. It almost feels like yesterday.

Afterwards I wrote another email, then showered. I talked to my father right as I got out. I had dinner, then talked to my mother. Then I finished packing up. Then I got dressed. I don’t remember the details.

Start: 20080424 [17:3|114] ~2130 UTC
End: 20080424 [17:3|114] 2223 UTC
Location: via Barberia 12, 40123, Bologna, Emilia-Romagna, Italia
Timezone: UTC+2

I went to sleep this morning at around 0500, I think. Possibly later.

I won’t go over now what took place in the first hours of today. Things with KJB, which have been going badly since 20080418, sank to the bottom. Mostly, my fault. I got what I deserved– I suffered the consequences of my weakness and defects (Homer was right when he had Zeus say that most of mankind’s suffering comes from their own deficiencies). That is, sadly, the only way one learns sometimes. Unfortunately it is also at the bottom where much is revealed as well, and I saw in KJB some truths that I have yet to reconcile myself with. I am being cryptic now, I guess, but now is really not the time to cover what happened. Suffice to say, the result was that I was heartbroken.

I talked to my aunt (MGR) and my mother (PR) and I got a call and an email from my father (JZ). They were very supportive. In the right way, too– being frank about my mistakes and failures, offering insight, also just providing support, being there, and so many other things. It was nice, most of all for me to have a place that I could go to and still be loved despite my personal failures– especially since it was these same failures that had driven one that I loved away from me.

Summa summarum: I suffered, but I had my family’s support, and I made it through the night.

My dear friend, what is this our life? A boat that swims in the sea, and all one knows for certain about it is that one day it will capsize. Here we are, two good old boats that have been faithful neighbors, and above all your hand has done its best to keep me from “capsizing”! Let us then continue our voyage—each for the other’s sake, for a long time yet, a long time! We should miss each other so much! Tolerably calm seas and good winds and above all sun—what I wish for myself, I wish for you, too, and am sorry that my gratitude can find expression only in such a wish and has no influence at all on wind or weather!

(Friedrich Nietzsche, Letter to Franz Overbeck: November 14, 1881)

When I went to bed it was getting light out. I awoke to a bright and sunny day, a couple of minutes after 1000. I was late for class, so I dressed quickly and went out without showering and eating breakfast. I sat in class until 1200, we discussed the spread of fascism in Europe and a few other things. I made my way back to the dorm, and right as I was about to enter, KJB called. She confirmed that she would indeed not be coming down today. I told her how I felt about it as I walked upstairs back to my room. I was very nervous and hurt and I don’t think I said everything right or in the right tone. But I think overall my message to her was honest and clear. At something around 1210, I told her I loved her, but I got no reply to that. We decided to talk “later”.

I talked to my mother briefly after that, and then I went to nap. I napped for about two hours, then I got up. Maybe I talked to my mother after the nap. I don’t recall, really. I showered and dressed again shortly after waking up. At around 1500, I went down to cook lunch. Spaghetti with tomato and basil sauce. Then I really noticed how beautiful of a day it was. It was warm today, about 296K. Sunny. Not much of a cool breeze, but that was fine with me. It was good enough. I stood outside in the dorm’s courtyard while I waited for the water to boil and then the pasta to cook. Afterwards I came up and ate. I did not finish, I had cooked too much. But I kept the leftovers.

I wrote a short task list for myself. I reminded myself to eat well, sleep, and get back into shape. Then I wrote down all my academic commitments. I jotted down the TMB-WHR task schedule. I wrote a few tasks regarding the recent events, KJB, relationships… mostly to rethink everything and then write about it. Told myself to get back to the emails that I had not gotten back to. To clean up, to organize both physical space and my data. Finally, to get back to work on my website. There were a million things I could have added (lojban, lisp, reading, etcetera), but I just needed something simple to put everything back into focus. It hurt me that KJB was not on that list except as something to think about, but I knew that it was not my choice for things to be that way.

I packed up my bag with binoculars and two books (Axel Munthe’s Story of San Michele, which KJB gave me, and Nietzsche’s Ecce Homo and Genealogy of Morals). My camera. I looked at the map real quick where the Giardini Margherita were (but not really how to get there– I wanted to wander) and then I headed out. It was beautiful weather out and could not help thinking that this was partly why I came to Italy. I felt better about being in Bologna (though I kept wishing I was in Napoli, instead) and I realized that part of the reason why I think it is so ugly is because I spend too much time indoors, in the same areas I’m used to seeing, and in the uglier parts of town. The southern parts of the city, greener, with more alleyways, older and more private or wealthier and cleaner are much more charming. Or at least, they were as something new. In any case, I walked in the sun, keeping a good rhythm and feeling better.

I reached the gardens and for most of my time there I photographed. It was nice. It was nice to look at the world again looking for beautiful sights. It has been a while since I photographed just for its own sake and it was nice to do again. The heat and the photography reminded me of 200705– especially the period during Fleet Week– where it was sunny and hot and I made it a point to go around and photograph. Thinking about it now, I remember that I got my camera just as I was breaking up with KJB last year (200703). I remember that I was very hurt only for a few days, but then I felt like I was fine– I had taken the breakup better than the one with MST. Looking back on it now, I was generally a little bit more somber than usual until those days in 200705. In any case, the whole time, I recall the camera was my way of getting out into the world, out of my room, and it was a way for me to handle the pain. I guess today was another case of that. In any case, I walked around, snapping away. At one point, on a little bridge over a pond, while about to snap a photo of some ducks (always for me a symbol of companionship), I heard someone call out my name. I turned around and it was BF and CP and it was good to see them. I told them what had happened vaguely, and they were quite nice about it. Despite seeing them rarely now, I still consider them among those I trust (in general I think with the kids from last semester, even though I barely see them now) and a good couple (always good to see things working). I let them on their way after a few minutes and continued walking.

I don’t know why I’m using so many comma’s. It’s been a long time since I’ve been writing, I guess. And I am really taking too long with this.

The park was full of people. Families, kids, adolescents, Italians, immigrants, old and elderly, couples, me. It was a slice of the world, at ease. I could not help feeling both a great sense of endearment and at the same time, alienation. But overall, I got a positive feeling from it. The weather was great and the sun was casting beautiful, strong shadows. I walked around some more until I just decided to sit on the curb of one of the walkways. I had some water, and then I lay back and just closed my eyes for a few minutes. Despite the sun and positive feelings, I felt something cold tugging me under, and the sadness took over. I thought a bit about what had happened. Then I got up and started walking back.

I took another route coming back, and it was really nice. Another part of Bologna, Viale XII Giugno, which was rather pretty with all the villa’s. I stopped by a little supermarket (Conad) on the way back– it was one of the most non-linear ones ever, in a very old building I think– and I picked up a few beers (Oberdofer, Paulaner Weissbier), which are still in the fridge. Winter generally takes away my desire to drink and it has not really come back at all this time. I generally don’t feel the desire anymore and I have been thinking about quitting it again, completely. We’ll see. The sun and a desire to relax may bring me back to beer and wine, though right now I don’t feel like it. I figured just in case though… generally alcohol does help me unwind a bit, sometimes even write, and it does pop my mood up a bit and fight away the sadness a bit. That is only weakness and a way out, but frankly at this point, notions of strength are very much far away from me. And I’d still rather fare off with some poetry instead, but I don’t remember any really about heartbreak. Terrence so far is not here.

Therefore, since the world has still
Much good, but much less good than ill,
And while the sun and moon endure
Luck’s a chance, but trouble’s sure,
I’d face it as a wise man would,
And train for ill and not for good.
‘Tis true, the stuff I bring for sale
Is not so brisk a brew as ale:
Out of a stem that scored the hand
I wrung it in a weary land.
But take it: if the smack is sour,
The better for the embittered hour;
It should do good to heart and head
When your soul is in my soul’s stead;
And I will friend you, if I may,
In the dark and cloudy day.

(A.E Housman, Terence, this is stupid stuff)

After I got back (around 1800), I unpacked and finished off the pasta. Then I started studying. The sun’s set brought me much sadness, and I felt like I’d lost a companion. Now, since then, it has been darkness and I, and no one else, save perhaps the indifferent glow of the fluorescent light. I took a nap from 1900 or so until 2130, and then, despite wanting to just sleep until 0500, I got up. My aunt called and I talked to her, then I tried calling my mother but the line did not hold. Then my father called me, and it was good to talk to him and get his advice as well. I feel like both give me advice in different ways, and though there is some overlap, mostly it is refreshingly complementary, and I feel very much taken care of. It was nice to hear him sharing about his walks in Shanghai back in the day, and it was a very nice thing to imagine. It is very strange, but sometimes I have a very strong desire to meet my parents when they were my age. It would be interesting to talk to them at 20, with myself at 20. At the very least, maybe good material to write a short story on in the future. In any case, afterwards I worked on setting up the basics of the dwrz:meta.net, and then began writing this.

I’m hoping to get this site back together again, and get back to work on this project in general. I’m planning on setting this component up again, and this time to put my journal, notebook and scrapbook– separate blogs in the old structure– together here. If I get a change to get back on a good connection, I plan to upload photographs to the dwrz:archival.gallery and to Google’s Picasa. In the meantime I’m working on organizing my albums.

Now I plan to finish this up and to get back to studying. Maybe have a chat with my parents. Tomorrow morning I’ll go see about my Philosophical Aesthetics exam, then go to class. Afterwards, depending on how I’m feeling, I will either go to San Luca and go workout or head south to Napoli. So far I’m leaning towards the former, but we’ll see.

Also, IRJ contacted me on Facebook earlier, and it was quite nice, and brought back many memories. But now nostalgia is starting to strike, and I don’t need it on top of everything I have now. So it’s time to wrap up for today (0010 @ UTC+2, so I’ve crossed over into 20080424). My “anniversary” with MST is coming up in a few days, funny to think how important of a date that was to me in the past. It has been 4 years since I met her, and over 2 years since that story has been over. It feels all at once long and short. And confusing. And if KJB had come down, we would now still be on the train towards Bologna.

Start: 20071120 [47:2|324] ~???? UTC
End: 20071120 [47:2|324] ???? UTC
Location: via Barberia 12, 40123, Bologna, Emilia-Romagna, Italia
Timezone: UTC+1
Excess comes from joylessness, not joy. He who is truly joyous has restraint, and is not wild or reckless. Alcohol, too frequent festivities, use of psychoactive substances, uninhibited sexual contact (especially without feelings to base it on), listening regularly to music– these are more signs of inner discontent and joylessness, decadence, weakness, purposelessness than a happy, carefree, and powerful spirit.

The trouble is that a certain inability to “control” oneself (–not react to stimuli, even to very slight sexual stimuli) is one of the most regular consequences of general exhaustion.
(Friedrich Nietzsche, The Will to Power, 734)