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apparently arrested Santa Claus, also known as Santa Claus on the evening of December 25, 2010.

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Greetings.

When I started this blog, I set myself a target of at least: at least 50 posts. But even a maximum, no more than 150. The good thing too, I do not like who pulls too long.
Be ', we got (almost). So I thank those who had the patience to follow up here. If anyone had the curiosity to read some other post as well as those that appear on this page, I suggest you go back to previous (so, no current). Then maybe one day we will be affected, but for now - hello!

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E 'bad disappoint the expectations of the children ... especially if you particularly want to swim in a pool with more promises ...

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Λάθε βιώσας. Giving

In high school, nothing seemed more stupid than this saying, "live secretly" biovar lazy. It 's just the opposite of what seemed right to do, to work, come out, get around, learn about the world. What sense would it have? Of course, the teacher was Catholic and a little 'reactionary, a high school in full swing in the '70s it seemed likely the only way to save.
After many years at the end of this said I have a little 're-evaluated. What sense does it emerge? What is the price we must pay? Do not just lose in the end the most important things?
is not cowardice, to live in hiding. That may have been a translation error, it would be better to say, hide, living. Maybe he wanted to say that is the true life that wants to be hidden.

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first great merit of the mountaineer: never give up, do not be discouraged, insisting, stubbornly hold on, resist. According
great value: knowing when to drop the case instead. Not to despair, but for rational calculation (that sometimes things are not so easy to distinguish, there is the rub).
One famous case is the one told by Krakauer in Into Thin Air : quell'alpinista Swedish party bike (bicycle) from Sweden, had made pedaling across Asia Minor, and then Persia, then India and up to Kathmandu, and then walk up Everest, and then he climbed alone, and had come up to a hundred meters from the summit, where he had seen fit to give up.
the rope that had risen after him but he insisted, had made it, had reached the summit: and then you know how it ended (ten deaths, including those more experienced).

(Swedish, then he tried again, in the days following, and has done it)

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beginning of the paths (ie: the beauty of the mountain).

It is said that dogs dormer especially to those who fear.
It 'something I've always found it profoundly unjust punish smart with the fertile mind, immediately ready to imagine that the dog may be aggressive, and then watched with fear, then kick-start his attention and quickly see their fears come true. While most people ignore beautifully stupid animal, and are repaid with all due respect. In short: if you start thinking about it is the end (as for many other things). Do you believe it?
This often happens in situations in which less than one would like. For example, many times in the mountains where you can get lost more easily at the beginning of a path is (I speak of those rarely visited and poorly reported, of course). Then it is easy to follow, as it is easier to follow the road that leads up to it. But it is the point of contact between two different realities, the civil and artificial, the other more wild and natural, to be barely recognizable.
And then often the beginning of a path near an isolated house is guarded by a dog as a last lone representative of civilization, is rightly suspicious and therefore almost always unnecessarily aggressive. Who are these rare visitors? What are we doing here? Ensure, bark, attack. So as the lone hiker from the frantic urban life is faced with a dilemma: give up? (Impossible) Advance? (Risky) to change course? (Uncertain and difficult). Meanwhile, the dog barks more fiercely, more and more suspicious.
Come back from the mountain then, after hours and hours spent in the forest, that same dog strangely not afraid anymore and let us go quietly. We have become a bit 'of beasts, too.
And that's the beauty of the mountain.

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First, there was a long period in which to read books and newspapers, talking with those you know, you went to the collective and the meetings and you said you were on the left. Then one day you really put in politics and was entirely different, a group of people in relation to a situation in motion.
And at work: study for a long period, you inform, evaluate, Read. Watch and comment on the work of others. Then suddenly the real work is another important thing, more fluid and constantly changing.
And when you prepare to go to the mountain, and inform you well organized itinerary, you wake up early, prepare all the stuff: and then the fun is getting lost in the woods, walking in the fog, or emerges at 'Suddenly the top on a large landscape. And when you think about a plan to do, then you do not really think of anything. And when you like a girl for so long you see it from afar, can you imagine the circles: and how is it different then when it finally embraces.
So it does not matter only what you want to do, but not just let go; beauty is a meeting between a will and abandonment.

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to a reader who wrote of his doubts about their sexual orientation (heterosexual or homosexual, in this case), the host of the anonymous blog erotic wisely replied: "But listen, what do you think when you touch? There is your true sexual orientation. "Very right, because it's true, there is something beautiful in the patterns: that never lie. If you do not work, not just work.
If you are unsure about a choice, what you really want to do here, imagine the situation, to dream with open eyes, to feel if it gives pleasure or discomfort, it can help to understand.
At the end of the university, for example, I had suggested to the assistant: Sure, no guarantee, but in the end, after years and years, perhaps a job as a university professor. Me I am dreaming with open eyes: a professor ... lessons ... handouts ... the Academic Senate .... and I immediately withdrew. The fantasy did not work.
And likewise, there is some regret for not having chosen a career more profitable? I already imagine: managers around the world ... groom employees ... doing business ... not for me.
A variation is time travel: if I could transport you to another place and in another age, where would you go?
To me, what would you turn to the Milan of Stendhal, the early nineteenth century. See all the streets of the old town, the countryside immediately around the walk on the ramparts with views of the Alps The romantic idea of \u200b\u200ba new world, before the Restoration. Then
- but what nonsense - I'd like to see the Liguria natural state, before civilization. Portofino Vernazza and with only the animals, a bit 'dangerous, lurking in the forest. And walking from the Alps to Rome in the early sixteenth century. And sail from Venice to Byzantium before that, in the fourteenth century.
[short, I would like to review what they know, but as it was before. Before they transform and lose energy. When he was young then, but already some 'expert, and with your whole life ahead: how a guy coming out of high school]

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Charm of bad poetry.

evocative images, vague metaphors, slogans, suggestive, sentimental aspirations: as you know are false, but are still as fresh and exciting. As one leaves trembling!
And as Tosca at the theater, we find ourselves saying, is a comedy, I know. But this anxiety that comes over me ... (Here is an artist!).

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weight of the past (happy).

Of course, when you see This historic city, with those streets, those magnificent palaces, those gardens, those splendid views of the countryside - all of which are no longer capable of doing. And those beautiful statues, these paintings? And who departed from Venice in the Middle Ages to go to China, and those in the eighteenth century they went by boat to the South Seas? Those who founded the free nations, who fought against dictatorship? conductors of hosts, the inventors of music, writers of novels? And the relatives of the last century, who have done great deeds brave, to love, work and adventure? And that time we were so happily seductive, so quick to decide, so confident of our intuitions? Quanta intelligence, love, passion, in the things of the past, how will we be still the case? (This is the trap)
how everything went in order, once that happened, as everything is full of meaning.
Of course, it's like in the stories that only someone who has done it is there to tell. And those castles, which seem so picturesque it is because there is no longer who dominated them (otherwise you would see). And those churches by the thresholds of grass, how relaxing it is because they do not control us anymore.

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Traditionalism.

We used to see old things marked by the patina of time: the paintings yellowed buildings reduced to some butt, clothes and ingrommati frayed, faded colors.
What a surprise then to see the paintings in Egypt thousands of years ago, perfectly preserved by the climate. What bright colors! And how well you recognize the familiar scene, the table set, that food so similar to ours! And those sandals, as they are similar to those that we are right now. And the layout of the rooms, and a humorous skit, with the child who hides under the table, not just oddly familiar?
E 'which basically have evolved little in the last thousand years. Sure, technology, knowledge and institutions have changed completely. But houses, food, clothes are not so different (and even emotions, feelings and fears.) Many hiking trails are still the locations of the Stone Age hunters, and a simpler, more secure and easier to walk from one place to another is simply to follow them (have been tested for thousands of years). And in the caves in Liguria were found the remains of meals of the Palaeolithic: olives, cheese, a soup of millet and mixed vegetables (such as the mes'ciua): eat something today, that is.
As a child I remember it was said that the millennium would like the astronauts ate a pill instead of steak. The millennium has come and past, and instead continue to eat much like thousands of years ago. (And even to love, hate, hope.)

(television, ipod and entertainment do not constitute a counterpart fund of books, concerts, and landscapes? Something to let go, to pass the time, imagine? And vice versa when the connection is slow or does not take the phone, which is the difference with a real cabin with a coin telephone, or in a letter that never comes? What matters is who's there with whom we speak)

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Oberflitz.

Twenty-five years ago, recently graduated, tired and desperate from work that did not work, of family relationships that were not, from the house that was not the one life that is not geared ... twenty five years ago in short, just at the beginning of August, pale and hot, we were able to start thinking about the holidays. Without spending too much, please! That there were no money, no one knew when it would arrive. Someone suggested the Val di Funes, maybe something there you could still find.

And so the 4 or 5 August we finally from Milan, with all our car burglary. Along the way we stopped to send by mail the application to participate in a contest by a country town in the belt of Milan, a bad place, but I did not see alternatives.
The room we had taken was just across the river, on the less exposed to the sun in the middle of the valley. We even noticed that there were more of the spectacular Dolomites, and the next morning we left for a steep walk in the woods behind the house, to Flitz (Valluzza, wrong place names in Italian). We were not even on the map (it was the first time we went to the mountains since we were kids, we thought the parents) and in a short we lost the trail. Then began to wander in the woods, there was no one around to ask. But we did not want to give up, and then continued rising, according to some tracks and some old signal, all sweaty, scratched by brambles and nettles, angry and in a foul mood.
Suddenly we came out on top. And beyond, a vast grassy plain, neat, here and there, cows and horses, traversed by civilized people. And a spectacular view, the great Odle, Sassolungo, Alpe di Siusi, snowy mountains in the distance! The small shelter in the hut, a good meal, tasty and cheap.
That trip changed my life (it's a bit 'too much to say, but it's true). I learned that we must not give up. That we need to work hard, and that there is ultimately the award. Situations that may arise hidden and neglected nice surprises. At home we were guests of
Vecchini two Germans, not at all uncomfortable to have around the house a boy and a girl who passed a lot of time in bed to make love, but actually quite curious (very discreetly, though) from our culinary traditions. Outside, the trees and the steep lawns mowed down hard under the sun to entire families, seemed gardens. At the party of firemen, was present throughout the country, with an invitation to be courteous with the only Italian guests. And the old woman, when he thought he did not hear anyone, liked to sing with organ accompaniment (but this is actually a memory of many years later).
Be ', from the time it started to get better.
And the competition for the place in town I did not even presented.

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Even then, I always thought that eventually the movements of the '70s would have been defeated, but not in that way. I thought it would remain in memory as a noble example, as a bold attempt but generous, wrapped in an aura of romance and so on.
When then, however, have proved inconsistent, vile, false. In the general rush any aura is gone.

(but what do you think young people would say of the 70 peripheral of all these brooding, this love that never dies, no use of this fidelity, this commitment staid? Do you think what did anything matter? It would make a good laugh, here's what - just that)