As in that film in which Alberto Sordi, antique dealer in Perugia goes to London to star in 'tired of the haute bourgeoisie in provincial narrow-mindedness which she lived ... but that was "London fog" ...
......................... 13:37 pm As my gaze falls prey at auction dei paesaggi scandinavi, butto giù due righe per raccontare la mia esperienza, il mio viaggio...
La penna me l'ha prestata il conducente del pullman. la mia è smarrita, persa nell'abisso di di follia e disordine dell'alloggio di Karlstad... Roberto starà dormendo come un bambino mentre io, animato dalla mia solita testardaggine, sono saltato sul primo pullman con destinazione Oslo, Norvegia, la terra di Munch!
Così, mentre sull' i-pod( un regalo!!!) passano come frecce le note di "Aida" di Rino Gaetano io m'abbandono (e 2!!) a scrivere su quest'agenda che prima di me fu di Hemingway e Picasso (non proprio questa!). E in testa ho 1000 pensieri; com'è facile scappare da un posto di 90000 abitanti, com'è difficile scappare da se stessi (neanche se sei Eddie Mercx!)...
E ora penso: "cazzo Luca... ti fai 'sto viaggio a 250000 km di distanza, conosci un sacco di gente, di culture diverse e non riesci ad uscire dal tuo piccolo mondo del cazzo? NO... NO... NO!!!!!!
Libera l'istinto, hai la possibilità di viaggiare, di vedere cosa c'è fuori e la licenza poetica per scriverne... Kerouac non aveva radici in nessun posto... lui doveva andare... il vecchio Jack!
Pensi forse che Ernest Hemingway una volta dentro la Boteguita del Medio, nel bel mezzo dell'Havana, nel cuore di Cuba, si fosse messo a pensare ad altro? NO!!!! Il vecchio hem se ne stava lì a scolarsi il suo buon rum e scoparsi qualche beautiful Cuban grills in the head, in the 'waiting to plant a bullet in the head with a rifle!
But back to the trip ... The inspiration came to me! I turn off the i-pod (I do not want Rino ...)
only contact with the real world, technology ...
writes ... WRITE .... Writes ...
Oslo is the most expensive city in Europe said ... attentive to the wallet! I do not care ... not really have much to spend ... I hope I have been a good friend to Robert ... sure that my visit gave him pleasure, a little less my habits ...
"God only knows if this city has trees" (homage to Verdena crazy!) Las
people of Karlstad, Karlstad or better lives, ordinary people having fun with little m'è came in like a blast of pure heroin in their veins! (Homage to Kerouac's crazy, "the street")
I 'sorry to leave' is madhouse. But this is another chapter, this is ......... The Swedish flat
...
I just lost a small Swedish cemetery where the souls of the dead rest in peace under 2 feet of snow!
AMEN!
I was saying ... I am sorry to leave Karlstad, unassuming town, enlivened by the party of foreign students (but not strangers) came here in search of themselves (they will be found?)
Sor Matteo L., Rome, Parioli-bored-lover- of extreme-sports-but without weighing her social status ... a simple guy end ... I spent more time with him than with getting to know Rob is also the other side, the good of the average upper middle class Roman.
The girl, a Mery peperino all lesbian, sexual ambiguity! A very nice girl ... FUN! Francesca
reminds me a little, the girl Ale.
Mike Ros, a silhouette! Dutch, nicknamed Yogi Bear for the way he talks ...
And then ... Eelco Zijl, the English (Alba and her friend intriguing of which I will never know the name!)
Andreas Johansson, Martin Nilsson, the Dutch Rosenborg (without words ...), the French (Tanguy, Sevan, Mathieu) , the Chinese, Mexican and Katie ... Estonian Finnish mother with whom he could birth to a beautiful friendship if only I had not been so taken by her and other so ... Talkative ... nice anyway .... very
14:11 pm The speaker of the bus, ripping me away from this tender moment ... are in Norway! We still lack an hour in Oslo ... I get back to writing ... I said that Mike Ros Never remove the cap, which prepare eggs and bacon in the strangest of times, playing folk music! A nice guy, say that housing has spoken with me than with any other, say that little talk.
I take a ... I have to ask permission from the old hem? > I wonder if you ever get tired of writing, you old drunk!
Bah ... I resign myself to contemplate the Norwegian woods ...
A dopo
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