the search engine that is yet to be developed

 

You use search engines for information, but also to solve a lapsus memoriae.

OK, sometimes it’s easy: you don’t remember the title of a movie, you might remember an actor. You search his filmography and you find out.

Who played in that movie? What was the name of that place? What type of phobia is this?

BUT

There’s NO SEARCH ENGINE YET, and I emphasize on YET that can help you remember a song when you can’t remember neither who played it nor any lyric!

It’s awful!!!

A search engine that you can hum or whistle a tune and it gives you the answer.

It happened to me THREE times this week only.

The first time, I called an erudite friend.

The second time, I asked my father, as it was a song from his time. I found out it was much older and the version I tried to remember was a cover.

The third time, he called me with a theme. I haven’t closed an eye, twisting and turning with the theme in my head.

When all these people who have musical knowledge will be gone… who will replace them? Or what?

Or this is this a problem that next generations won’t have? They’re not into anything that happened in the previous century, least longer ago?

We lose the ability to think, to make connections and associations.

Which is the best way from here to there? Check your GPS.

Who wrote this book, what was the name of the character? Google it.

How much money did I spend? Compute.

Is he available? Check his Facebook status.

Our minds are lazier every day. We are a race that will extinct and atrophy by technology. By having it too easy.

 

 

predators

 

As I was telling you, finally there’s a club I love. With fine music and people.

Just crossing from one side to the other, I can relive my entire life: former school mates, colleagues and an entire array of friends collected along the years.

As somebody claimed, it’s like Cheers: “where everybody knows your name”

And now it’s tainted.

Because the Predators discovered it. They strategically surrounded the bar and they all stare blankly towards the entrance. Always toward the entrance to stake the possible preys.

They arrive early. Separately or in flocks. And either they speak to each other – still supervising the entrance, at least with one eye, like the birds – or they text to some other specimens, or they just sit on the tall bar stools.

From my table I’m not sure they order anything while they wait.

They just show off their cheap clothes, fake bags, fake nails, fake lips, fake tan, fake blonde elaborate locks.

They have plenty of accessories, but glamour and joie de vivre are not among them.

I swear to God, I brushed against one, and her blouse was so poor quality that it scratched my skin. She wore abrasive clothes on her stiff body.  

They hold their lips slightly apart. It’s supposed to be sexy. It’s not. It’s dumb.

 

Creatures, it’s recession. The chances to meet Prince Charming are lowering every week. The foreigners were fired and they left back home.

The domestic come accompanied, as it’s the kind of place where you bring your wife or special someone, you don’t look for one night trash.

No, you can’t show your moves learned from porn movies, because the music is Sinatra or Beatles. It doesn’t work.

Please, fuck off!

takes a cat to know a cat

 

Last evening I went to the dentist again.

Yes, I know, my social life is glamorous. Yet you keep coming back.

As my lady doctor was swamped, the surgeon offered to help. So she gave me away for a procedure.

I froze, as the surgeon is not as delicate and tender as she is. I would say he’s quite the opposite.

He started torturing me and turning my head sideways in impossible stances. The dirty thoughts that crossed my mind were faster than a bunny on Ex:

“will you be able to explain the makeup smears on your coat?”

“yes, I am that flexible”

“are you always so imaginative and demanding?”

“I was hoping to rest my head against a man’s chest, but with a different drill involved”

“I see you admire how wide I can open my mouth. Any other thoughts?”

At a certain point, I SWEAR I could almost hear him thinking about the same things.

His nurse came in and announced my doctor is free so he can release me.

He answered: “pleeeaaaseee, let me play a little more!”

I gagged with laughter, with all the contraptions in my mouth.

Yet, I stayed a lady and he kept professional.

In a hoarse voice he thanked me for being such a lovely patient.

I thanked him back and walked out gracefully.

I was roaring with laughter inside.

Good God, I can find fun in sheer torture!

 

 

 

 

love thyself

 

Bear with me while I put order in my thoughts and I try to make random ideas become one coherent concept.

First is that we should stop looking down on us as a people. Maybe if we find in us RESPECT, we shall gain it.

I received several lessons of patriotism and national pride this year from foreigners that fell in love with this country.

Last night I was asked to describe Mandinga in a simple sentence. I remembered the night I saw them the first time in a concert.

And that brought me to yet another memory, way back in time: my first love and the lesson he taught me and I never forgot.

The power to mesmerize with one glance. When he was interested in a woman, he used to look at her in a special way. I can’t describe it. But that woman felt the most beautiful, attractive, sensual woman on Earth.

And I go back to that first concert: when Mandinga began to play, all the women rose and danced frantically. They were all red hot sexy. No matter – tall, short, fat, thin, drunk, sober…

They felt sensual and attractive while the music played. It was a phenomenon.

And I wonder. Do we need to be seen by someone else like we are the most beautiful people in the world to start acting accordingly?

 Do we need to be seduced to feel seductive? Can’t we find in ourselves the charisma?

And I shall end my very loose train of thoughts with a lesson of love from Mandinga and a very smart lyrics writer:

thank you for the orgasm

 

Up to now I used to say metaphorically “I had an orgasm listening to this”.

Until last night.

I had a very annoying meeting in the office with one of the dumbest clients ever.

I had no more cigarettes, it was late, it was foggy and cold.

I was majorly pissed off.

I climbed my kitty car and turned on the radio on my favorite station.

I was speeding as the route was free. Dark, foggy, moist, late, FAST.

The MC announced they would be broadcasting “she’s got the Jack” live version.

Of course, I turned the volume to the max.

AND IT HAPPENED. I ACTUALLY CAME on this song!

While driving.

BOY, did I have the BEST cigarette after when I safely arrived at home.

Try it, it’s worth it!

oh, honey days

 

I love autumn… its special scent and colors always mesmerize me beyond speech.

 

Every morning I love to drive to work and watch the colors of the trees and the sky. The global warming brought me an unexpected gift: a prolonged October till the end of November.

 

I love this time of year. It keeps me so warm inside.

 

Yes, I’m an animal lover and this is a perpetual conflict with my love for shoes.

 

So my latest eel and crocodile Dolce & Gabbana masterpieces in shiny black & textured emerald green brought a new political incorrect statement: I love furry animals, ok?

 

Not a water snake and something that crawls in the water and it’s half skin, half deadly teeth that can bring me so much pleasure in a sexy bootie.

 

A Sicilian wine that is “joyful”: Corvo.

 

The opening (FINALLY!) of the first Hello, Kitty store. They even have a Hello, Kitty Pinot Noir!

She’s 35 by now, of course she’s allowed to have a drink!

 

Lovely evenings, enchanting music, dreamy men, great friends, and the promise of magic adventures to come complete the picture of a flourishing autumn that is about to end…

it’s my fault

 

Last evening I saw another movie I have heard about and never get to see: Two for the Seesaw, based on Broadway success from the late 50s.

A B&W film from 1962. I think @ that time, my parents didn’t even meet.

I rarely watch a movie like I would be in a Cinema theatre. I mean without touching the remote to flip through channels.

I did. It wasn’t particularly good, and I’ve seen McLane acting way better. But I was thinking about me. How naïve I stayed over the years.

I still believe life is a play. Everybody is on the stage to put their hearts on the sleeve. Because that’s how theatre works: you have a role that consists of lines meant to show what you feel.

No. In real life, we are not the audience who must learn the truth to understand the plot. We are characters in the same play who have lines that are not necessary true.

Two for the Seesaw is not as naïve as the era it was created. It’s very bold. It shows people are weak and easy to manipulate.

You can use a woman because you feel lonely, because you want to prove yourself you’re over your ex. You make her depend on you, become addicted to you.

You get her to blackmail you to stay with her and then change your mind and make up with your ex.

This is life, not a movie. Just that every time anyone feels anything, they enunciate it loud and clear.

There’s no time for deductions.

That’s my gap. I believe people really say what they feel. I still believe what I’m told, I never doubt.

Why say something you don’t mean? I still don’t understand.

So I’m the GOOSE who believes life it’s as simple as a black and white movie. Or a play.

 

PS: I case you wonder – no man left ME, it’s the subject of the play, it’s just about people behavior and impossible promisses. OK?

maimed poem

 

You’re the only one

Who can wear an ugly hat

Who can have a common scent

Who can stay so innocent

Who can have a kitschy ride

who can make me change my mind

Who can dance if he feels like

Wearing flip flops at midnight

Who can treat everything light

Who can gossip like a magpie

Who can get lost in his own city

Who can get drunk and act silly

Who can smoke my cigarettes

Who can make me fall in love

with a musician I’ve never liked

and leave with the opposite in mind

who can shut me up

with a cheesy lyric

you’re the only one who can get away with things

I wouldn’t ever stand from another man

 

you’re the only one

How come?

Romeo & Juliet by Tim Burton

fresh designs

dance, baby, dance

 

Again, a post inspired by a friend.

I noticed the same evening in the same place the same thing. But that I got drunk and forgot.

For me, it was a little different. I was sitting at the table we booked in advance, chatting with friends, sipping Cosmos and feeling just right.

The music was spectacular, but it was supposed to be just background for our conversation.

Suddenly, one of my friends dragged me on the dance floor and we danced! Together!

He is sensual and gorgeous, dancing comes natural to him and I was delighted.

And it came up to me: when did we stop dancing as couples?

A man and a woman embraced, moving in synchrony, feeling each other’s bodies, like a vertical foreplay brimming with promises of pleasure.

I remember the time when this was how you met your next boyfriend or lover. It was the most common way to meet someone new.

Dancing was there not only to pick up a fresh mate, but to reaffirm your connection. I remember dancing with my ex nights and nights along the years.

And now I realized I haven’t danced lascivious with a man… in centuries!

I agree I’m a different generation than the people that fill the clubs nowadays. So what’s wrong with ME?

I long for human touch and human contact, that’s me.

And I belong in the arms of a man, not procrastinated on a couch!