In the months that followed the death of Rina Paul was able to assess their importance in his domestic life. Presence at times irritating, for reasons that are hidden from his diaries, but in practice irreplaceable. The daughter certainly not neglected, but it was not and could not be a surrogate mother of the versatile minimal. Moreover, plant, and missed both his sons to visceral maternal vocation and the consequent availability active, even hyperactive, in the service of "his creatures" in trouble (even when he was hampered by physical deficiencies brought on by age). Especially after the birth, after a few months of each other, two grandchildren: a boy from daughter-a girl by her daughter.
They were the two infants, the main reason for the reluctance to leave that Rina had opposed to the insistence of their children. It was tight the whole tribe converged pressure (from the husband to his sons, his brother and sister-in companions of the children) to overcome his resistance. But of course the bottom of that desire has developed over decades of cancellations and postponements caused different from painful circumstances befell the family. It then seemed unnecessary guilt of children and contour: we had given in to his reluctance, would be alive today. Do not we can forgive. And so on. The discordant note of hindsight. But the emotional response of all'artiglio inevitable misfortune.
But time, as is his job, passes polishing, smoothing, smoothing sharp relief and bitterness. And it does sprout resources, as soon as the conditions are vital. In Paul there. With roots in the dream of self-narrative "complicated", the plot, variously casual, between life and literature (indeed, culture), illusion, conscious, but Leopardi fenicea, to steal something to Saturn devouring monster of the children. And rogues.
course, Susanna informed of the accident. She had heard the news but had not noticed the many unknown names of the Italian victims, and in the midst of the plural unknown suspect had buried with no name Rina. The call followed a month of silence, and it was a sober mourning on both sides. The next time Susan was calling: with the obvious demand for news about the health and lives of mutilated old "friend."
How was it? Tolerably. She was beginning to resign? Of course, began. Indeed, it was already well advanced. Really? Really. That did not mean that did not suffer. Both? He threw the Geiger counter. What? Ah, the apology is a tool to measure radioactivity. He compared his suffering to that? It was a case: a flash of involuntary memory, in which his pain reminded him that of all the suffering in the world, and this universal expansion had suggested that the main gauge of planetary calamity. One of the many circuits had assimilated preconscious, emphatically, mourning the radioactivity. In flash, in truth, had illuminated the plight of children of parents who are maimed, most recently as he knew, had been many cases. The closest (in both senses) of which the fate of Italian soldiers sent into the fray Bosnia's raped, beaten to death of 'harmless du, depleted uranium, harmless from vaunted American manufacturing. His own case had nothing to do. That's all.
Well, he (it was now being used to say) metabolize her grief. And you? He had reached the resignation, her? Yes, he had reached. What had been, he said, was more the disappointment in themselves for the premature death of a man still valid that the personal penalty for his friend (he never used the word lover) lost. He did not say that their contacts had carnal thinned so that it may prevent the memory in the discourses about their relationship? He could not remember, he had received that communication, but something similar, yes. He was happy for her. The daughters? Swing in the average value of the "so-so." Not always willing to give her grandchildren? So it seemed. The recurring problems of Claudia? From one month to more rare and mild: the heartbreaking confession had proved liberating and bracing? Maybe. As the disappearance of that grandfather. Yet perhaps. He rejoiced, Paul, always attentive to the happiness of her. Happiness? He had escaped the big word, but without any real intention of use. If we did not. It was hyperbole in everyday use, and more sticky. A minimum of distraction was enough to fall into ruin his field of attraction. He hated that word, did not remember Susan? Of course you do, and how the attention of Paul to the welfare of her, Susy had this in mind: it was a fact to which he was leaning his stubborn resistance to adversity. So said, so he repeated for years, the former twenty beautiful and unfortunate. And it was not without a start, what he could do for you, real, facts and not words? Nothing, basically. And patience.
Nothing, in short, in those first phone calls, and in those early months, their conversations are related directly to their feelings and their plans (they take this word ringing with discretion) in the future. It seemed she understood that it remained to Rome, close to his daughters, and he, in the midst of his family in Sicania volcanic and dancer (a quake of those days, no victims, and with reduced damage, had rekindled the debate about possible earthquakes in the area: it was considered a non- distant big one type of Californian or Japanese).
But one day, after seven months of the last mourning, Paul began to make room for the idea of \u200b\u200bthem living together for that "remnant of life and future." He developed a survey and so cautious, but not defeatist.
"You seem a strange thing so if you propose to get together? We have no marital ties, nothing would prevent us from combining our difficulties and our efforts: to alleviate those and added together to promote these pleasing results. It is not allowed hope to live some part of the time less bleak? With some concessions to non-dormant vital spirits? "
" I would rather out of season. Maybe a little criticism. Or a lot, who knows. What do you say your children? "
" And your daughters? If we did now, we criticize, of course, and each other, but between a bit 'of more months (say, the completion of the year after the death of Rina, or so) that I approve. We say, realistically, they might feel relieved, my: no longer have the hassle of monitoring close to the old widower and pains to look after. And your are just as happy. More or less for similar reasons. Living here among us would have my attention and quiet them. What do you think? "
" You, your, you know them better than me, I am what I say so. As for my daughters, I'm used to my independence. It would be happy "
" On my you can trust my opinion. Maybe the male, it is critical, I do not approve of one hundred percent. But thinking that it would be the best friend of her early childhood, we would accept as stepmother ... "
" Uhh, that bad name! "
" A fairy stepmother, not a witch, fished from the well of the remote past, so fragrant with beautiful gifts for that Giampiero three to four years, so in love with his Susyn. And because of your former kids provide, I see no possible difficulties on our way "
" Oh, yes, they approve. Meanwhile, the thought of the little Giampiero quattrenne gives me courage. You made me revise that lively child who also left the beloved father to be with me. I remember, you know, 'Daddy, I go with Susy, is quiet, then she takes me home' "
" The astute. Who, then, we had available in virtuality of light and shade in the two pictures sent to my home computer. Of course, in those You are a beautiful girl and not the actual mature lady Strapazzata from life. "
" Exactly. How would welcome this wrinkled old woman so different from that pretty girl who wore a walk and spoiled with his gifts? "
'Well the almost forty years old father of a child of his age at that time has on the amount of time Groppino right not to expect miracles in the aesthetics of others and not expect to be compared, even he, at that delightful child "
" Yes, I think it is as you say. "
" Another thing: with you by my side ( but whips expressions are sometimes under the keys) would have another thought to comfort: Take a load off his wife, and between work and child, has little time. And even less desire missionary. You know, between daughter and mother-in-law: and weights ... "
" You're convincing, you know? "
* And so it was about a year and a half after the death of Rina and two and a half after that of Mark, Paul and Susan "came together." The "family council" to him and did not object to her was entirely absent. O excited: you choose. Maybe it's better Esplan: Susy's daughters if they washed their hands. Would accept the solution chosen by the mother. Because they know that, even if they expressed doubts that it would decide on her own? Probably. Or fail to say happy with his choice. If they had accepted the relationship with Mark, who did not approve, but had rather suffer, because they would not accept that, much more "regular" with his former teacher? They knew, they added, the respectable person who was Professor Tasting, this time in life kindergarten youth. And, consequently, a little 'even in their childhood. Of course, with the gradual presentation of the mother, rather than the nebulous and fragmentary memories of direct meetings in the eighties.
At this point you may begin another story, but the anxiety to close this patchwork hydro presses. It controls only a few pages again for a final conclusion and the facts already in the super-dense. How to run the show say that it will be the last notebook of my friend. Here are his words. *
"Once again, the Great Ram of Life wrote the software unpredictable and improbable. Two dead improbable plays a binary one per thousand of probability, a double survival in clinical trials and surgical risk lethal, that's what it seems permissible to show behind the "union". Me and Susanna, Susanna and me. After thirty-five years, Dante's half of a human existence. I have no reason to pay tribute to the incredible? Or rather, to the unusual case of waste-segnacolo. Want to know
, n.33 agenda, as we spend there, where we live, and how, etc.? I will attempt a quick summary. We celebrated, months ago, a non-secular marriage altogether: that is, simply declare our children that we would have made me and Susy company for the short remainder of our lives. We put together our weaknesses and we'd bet on mutual assistance and comfort to groped to make it a strength. Physical and moral. Or rather, physiological and psychological. An experiment? Let's face it. The raw material was there: our love (Shame we had to use the big word love). A feeling of a long career, betrayals survived suffering lawsuits silences scorn of years. With ups and downs, long time to black out and shoot divaricanti short of breath. For the rest, patience, tolerance, flowering from that assistance would be fertile ground for remote and firm texture. "
* Why, in fact, there were difficulties which would have required: she still smoked a lot, and he heart disease, smoking was the enemy. High passive. It 's true, Paul had reserved the right to challenge the enemy smoking an average of three to four cigarettes a day, but always in the open, very light, and distance. Susanna would have reduced his and he always smoked on the terrace in the courtyard outside the rooms anyway. It was just one example, although the largest of the "possible litigation". But we take back the notebook. In part we have summarized in brief pressing of the autograph text follows this "dialogue."
"You look a little concerned, notebook. Would you like a few chapters of the "union" less bland, I guess. Maybe the spicy details? The fact is that Chrono grins on my shoulders that go muttered, at seventy, - whispers - about sex and read to battle? It is not, should not be your only or so bed rest and demure chaste caresses senile?
And here you are wrong, Mentor hairy: the confidant of my info (and my offal) can guarantee a weighted claims to the contrary. The undersigned has not, never, or only sporadic and "brief" occasions, a glutton of sex. Instinctively, he has used so far. Better: dosandolo to foreseeable physical hard not to reply. Except for some "high" I was immediately and invariably put into the account (and without pay) made by my little body under the parsimony mother. He knew, my brain Jurassic, which was not a dinosaur, and the cautious neocortex (excuse the terminology) dosava its concessions irrational ancestor with careful deliberation. And perhaps this has kept discrete physiological capacity to seventy welcomed here. Capito, dear Intriguing? I have good thrust and drag erectile orgasm sweet lens, but also the toughest and most delicious appetizers and hold preliminary exploration of taste, I would say, intact.
not that enough? Would you like to operational descriptions, details intrusive explicit vocabulary? And when did you got it from me, old gossip? We have never been of Henry Miller, Anaïs Nin and even a. Not one sprawled Charles Bukowski: we have taken certain explicitness from uninhibited Houellebeck, leaving, as it were, responsibility technical-scientific. We did not have enough "courage" or casually: you, perhaps, corrupt in old age? It is enough to note the
douceur wave which swept through my body when, naked, pressed it to her in every way possible and contortions, and the explosion of incontinence moody when I could cross that threshold thirty-five years before, I had forced against the same lust for her, only to lick. When I could get into that darkness for three long years I had allowed in that era and remote (not) lost when the forces of sensitivity were green and fiery spasms of the waiver (this kind of self-castration functional), when ... It is enough record a combination of secretions converged, the storm that shook this humoral body when weighed in dank secret offer full and satisfied without hesitation he pushed the brakes and awakened his honor to male is still outstanding, providing compensation for my youth abstinence sore.
Yes, I know, now I itch of curiosity about her lines, the "divine" twenty of the "Fabulous Sixties" (as the editors write those songs on CDs), on what remains of the inevitable withering of 'heir who has crossed the barrier a few years of the fifty. Well, you will feel like hyperbole, but I give you my word: it is a fine residue, a surplus that would the total envy of some anemic adolescent white skin and pale cheeks. Susanna aging well, and its fifty-six, with no claim against the twenty and thirty, retain a more than respectable erotic responsiveness. Or, if you sound too prosaic term, highly enjoyable and just as capable of personal enjoyment. Without excess and greed, which is compatible with my resources in balanced reciprocity. What else can claim? Add ludismo a dream that makes me dream, sometimes, to stay, not with the ultra-fifties, but with the legendary twenty, intact in the images stored on the hard disk via scanner, the My Documents directory, file (overload) Photos.
Where are we? A bit 'to his home in the summer capital, more in my house Sicania the Ionian Sea, which combines the Sicania Calamagna in the embrace of a geographic and symbolic emotional continuity never denied. The "more" lies between the autumn and winter, overall warmer and less rainy in north-central. As well (and rhetorically?) "Blessed" by the "sea of \u200b\u200bUlysses", and yet always vibrant memories of mythical, historical and varied (not just grim) record, including archaeological sites gigantic stacks pervasively and quite often frequented by some tourist traffic, and also from hedonistic and cultural events. Which is good, if the adolescent residual that is still shaking with passion greek-roman keeps its lucar galaxies in the neurons of old disenchanted. The electronic sweep of disenchantment has cleaned up a lot of rhetorical garbage that passion grew in greenhouses school early, but it has cemented the innocent weed humus.
*
Chapter provisionally final
You all know the wild sadness that stirs the recollection the happy days: it is irrevocably past, and we are more divided in a ruthless manner by which it is distant places. The images are raised, even more attractive in the halo of memory and you think back as the body of a loved one who died rest in the deep earth, and that similar a mirage reappears, sitting in the spiritual splendor, instilling in us a shudder of horror ...
Ernst Junger, On the Marble Cliffs
* That I could call the Short Happy Life of Paul and Susan.
If it can be said about the time of two and a half years, full of passion and adventure. Before the disaster. That is the "departure" of Paul.
In this long before, then, Paul and Susanna were, I would say, just happy if I did not know that my friend recoiled from the term (repetita iuvant?) Like the plague rhetoric. That is the lie. Like it's always easy to avoid.
traveled by looking in the range of places, the variety of kisses - as mentioned modest in the novels of ancient times. In Venice, where Paul was only once, with his third high school Sicilian, in "Journey of education", and Susan had never been, knew rejuvenated hours of abandonment. Jailbird catalyst for this "awakening of autumn" the many seductions of the sorceress Adriatic already Serenissima and imperial power, and still treasure trove of beautiful monuments doubly "grandiose", as well as natural charms. The age of the two storms did not promise the senses, but the climate of adolescent excitement, inevitable for him, he acted as an aphrodisiac contagious and dragged the pair to some excess. It was surprised, Paul, one of those unexpected resources of his body, which was used to judge harshly. Of course, the (very relative) "too much" one night was balanced by the prudence of the following - at least for a sequence of two or three. Neither Susan was no longer the fiery forest nymph of her twenty years. Or complicated "Justine", which entitles the famous novel by Lawrence Durrell (that Paul was reading the last few months). Wise and prudent in proportion to the years (actually decades) already accumulated in his body vibrating so severely felt by those shares Caesars and other invasive surgery, she was the first to suggest moderation to his old professor at the demi-amoureux. "I do not say to me" - he explained, smiling protective - "I'm ready even at the last trip, but for you that you still have much to accomplish." Both? - Paul thought, unconvinced of its lifetime. It started on the duet of the two had more to do in this valley of tears. Or more to lose in the final tear. Paul writes to his Susy (he liked, from time to time, call in compact, like the good old school days) that had yet to enjoy the joy of "grandparents," and she replied that her daughters, apparently, not had no intention of generating more miserable for the land worthless. They said just like that, "unworthy of the Earth"? "That's right, no, that is a phrase you "- says Susanna. He could not remember, Paul, who's escaped the catastrophic appraisal that from time to time during the lesson in his philosophy class? Perhaps commenting on some medieval philosopher saint, deaf and blind, as the whole category, "to the horrors of the world." Vaguely, he remembered the "philosopher sad." He found it strange however that two beautiful young wives do not "suffer" the need of motherhood. To which Susan was accusing him, kindly, distraction: "You forget their bankruptcy experience of daughters of a father abandoned carcass. And the worst of which affected more. " Paul, quell'accensione of consciousness rimemorante, apologized, blaming the selfishness of the 'happy man. " Indeed, the old memory scotomas and a half ankylosed feelings: do not know that the old are becoming more selfish?
was Paul, however, to have more ties with life already a grandfather, with two loves of her grandchildren, male and female student and then in the mood for news, a writer working on a building site, a political commentator pissed, and so listing. Paul dampened the euphoria "elenchistica" Susan, but acknowledged, in homine interior, he had some reason to want her more than a few years of activity lucidity curiosity "frugifera. The important was that now, after the incredible reunion, had a sort of "duty", both to live a few years. As compensation for the long silences and the off distances that separate them for decades had spread across different periods of discontinuity. Or at least, to hope in those years of longing. The ruthless self-criticism supervision of Paul did not fail to point out that "duty" to self-escaped rhetorical: the old, youthful passion camusiana resurfaced again in favor of the emphasis that the maturity suffering under the illusion that you have tamed. It reminded the youth novel "The happy death" and "Essays" of Camus 'African', all sea and sun, "Joie de vivre" and finding a balance with the harsh history. He remembered also his public appearances for him. They were part of his adventure with Susan, he had written those articles and essays during the period of maximum tension of his thwarted passion. Natural, therefore, that the membership function to mix the two experiences verbally. They had, yes, "the duty of being happy." Never mind if the "sad philosopher" is contradicted in rhapsodic ecstasy of joy compensating oblivion.
And expect many years of verification? They also had this "duty"? Duty or verbal plaything, were not fulfilled. But those two years and its tail of months were full of experiences variously exciting. And, between the penis and loss of satisfaction and revenge knew. Paul, especially. He managed to publish a small but enterprising editor, an abridged version and widely narrator of this story, hidden behind a pseudonym. Unexpectedly, the publisher, for a successful exchange of favors, he could snatch a positive review to a big piece of the second national newspaper. The curious thing a competitor, a mid-level television service had dilated early local resonances in concentric circles. He lit, possibly due to the TV service, word of mouth among young readers erotically responsive, and whetted some readers took the philosophical digressions lighted another, reinforcing success. What was the acclaim for the originality of the plant-mix flexibility, and lively language, but also markedly ideological controversy (of course, with most of them from Catholic). In short, the book became a literary es'inserì in the race, then in progress between the unfading Camilleri and the new generation of divergent narrative. A great success, Paul would willingly devoted to the disappearance Severina said Rina: How many severe and relentless persistence that he had criticized his persistent activity accompanied by a writing so little financial bonus! What revenge would be! Rina was gone, but there was Susanna was not enough? Yes and no: Susanna had never encountered that problem, and Rina had long suffered from a good part of her married life. For Paul, it would be a good revenge and Rina for a belated, but still attractive reward for decades of frustration. He would have bought the cottage by the sea: now the copyright permit.
Well, another of the amazing facing in recent years had been eventful life of Paul Tasting. And in the latter, he played the role before you have touched, in an interview the day: not only the local television stations and regional but also national networks if they vied for a few months. And all to stun him with questions, pertinent and impertinent, literature and philosophy. And, of course, faith and atheism. And here Paul had to adapt to the recommendations of the interviewers, themselves indoctrinated from network managers and owners of networks. It left even hopes to regain the lost faith: a gentle interviewer no longer plagued by emergencies youth, he confided in his public conversion and the elderly who also wished to touch him so much grace. Paul had to make the best of a very bad game (or yoke), and as the company instead of responding in, thanked him, and sighed: Who knows! It was held inside the nausea that mediocre comedy, venting, later, in private notes. Not without repeat and repeat the terrible conviction dell'inguaribilità Great Lie from the pledge of human crimes and massacres do not stop. *
Great was the shock of Paul when, on waking, it finds difficulty with disbelief, it was a dream only a dream, all the glory of literature, that media success in rapid metamorphosis of strong sales and cash, to redeem if not in the eyes of a Rina absent, for himself, only negative of the dream, that faded Rina in sad remembrance, not substitutable with Susanna meat so foreign to those distant marital reproach. A dream, just a dream ironic, mocking, sadistic, like many who had populated its existence widely popular imagination in every aspect smile and grin.
If the literary glory, with his retinue of outcomes merchant, was just a dream mocking, any portion thereof, in the small and different sub-species, it was reality. Paul won the first prize in a competition culture: € 5000, was not a large sum, but even so modest he would happy Rina. The award was the initiative of one landowner Sicania West, who had founded a cultural association called "Friends of Diderot," managing to involve the region and the European Community. The association was at its third year of existence, with some success: it had organized its conferences, and the prize won by my friend was the second competition. Paul had brought a book that collects his scattered essays on the multifaceted author, which he found the most versatile genius caught between all the authors of the glorious French Enlightenment. I mean, who really had that 'unique individual "have recognized and celebrated by the great Goethe congenial. Was one of the sages, and by extension to deal with, a real book, but only published in installments in the journal of his high school Convivium, the other, much shorter (from ten to twenty pages of the magazine body 12 Gulizza), illustrating the themes of individual 'immense production diderotiana. The book was printed at the expense of its city council by a publisher Liotrivi intervention of a former pupil of the school became Department of Culture of the Junta. The competition consisted of three prizes, first, second and third. Quite surprised that his victory, and not only the individual concerned who had participated at the insistence of former colleagues and former students, but the whole circle of his knowledge and friendships: how to assume a prize for an author so divergent from the prevailing climate in his hometown and the entire Catholic Sicania-political-mafia (without prejudice to the usual exceptions ultra-minority)? The fact was that it had been another of the famous far-fetched. Were part of the jury two other former students of Paul's high school Realpolia. Yes, twentyfive years of "professor" in that high school "curializzato" had scattered fruits of esteem and gratitude even among its former students ("whatever"). Two of the committee were both university professors, one at the University of Liotrivi (Chair of Theoretical Philosophy), the other in that of Zancle (Professor of Cultural Anthropology). The two fought in defense of their former teacher and failed to appreciate the novel aspects that make his criticism in progress witnessed in the fertile mind of the Founder of the proverbial Encyclopedia. One of these was a kind of flashing advance theories trophology gulizzane. To highlight this sensitivity biological philosopher had been valuable, for Paul, the long-discussed polemic operetta "Rameau's Nephew" in whose pages (unpublished at the author's life, to protect his safety and freedom) of the variable cross-disciplinary theme throughout the entire production diderotiana thickens with particular intensity. That's the main character seen in the atmosphere from the first page: "Sad or gay depending on the circumstances. His first care, when it rises in the morning, you know where to have lunch, after lunch, worries about where to dine. " His language was excluded from the too free a hospitable home, what regrets? "You were treated to delicacies and here again reduced waste" Hence the 'unbearable' "contempt of himself" "A thousand times I said, but how, Rameau, in Paris there are a thousand good fifteen to twenty tables each covered, and covered all of these there is not one for you! "The philosophical view of Rameau is no less attuned to the truth biotrophism universal: "In the wild, all species will devour, devouring all classes in society." "And then the misery. The voice of honor and conscience is very dim when the stomach demands. "" Give me a straight, long live the philosophy, long live the wisdom of Solomon, drink good wine, gorging on delicacies, have a good time with beautiful women, resting on soft beds. Beyond that, everything else is in vain. "
Paul does not intend to superimpose the author's character: too obvious differences between a cynical artist and intellectual "failed," reduced almost entirely to the enjoyment of meals and bed and rich personality diderotiana. But not obliterated, as in so much criticism, the author's sympathy toward the human figure as an artist betrayed by his talent and literary society gossip and cynical: it is well that it forces him to parasitism biting. Neither has any difficulty, the author of "Walk the skeptic," directly to confess: "I do not despise the pleasures of the senses. I too have a delicate palate that tastes a food or a delicious wine. "Rameau no desire to attend to some people, or drooling pleasure in conversations with those questionable letters, but there is constrained and can not cease to be "a robber of robbers happy opulent." It is nice to do the clown flatterer? Will not be, but can not retract.
"Who else can undergo a similar part if not the wretch who is there, two or three times a week, that calm the spasms of the intestines? And what to think of others, such as Palissot, Freron, Poinsinets, Baculard, yet have something in meanness and you can not apologize to the grumbling of a stomach that is suffering? "To sustain this role, talent, application," there is can in one fell swoop, but there it comes gradually. Ingenio venter giver. "" We seem to be happy, but deep down we are all in a bad mood and with a big appetite. Would no longer be hungry wolves, tigers, no more cruel. Devour like wolves after the land was covered with snow, like tigers devour those who have been successful "
citatoria The trolley could be prolonged for another page, we conclude with a sigh, social, and even with a breath of holy anger potentially" subversive " (ie, sacred):
"I'm in this world and the rest of us. But if it's in our nature to have your meal - I always go back to whether the appetite for it is the feeling that I is always present - I am not against nature has always something to eat. What the hell's economy is this: some men to regurgitate every gift of God, while others, even if their stomachs as their own importunate, insistent as hunger, not what to put under your teeth. The worst is the awe in which we need to keep the ... "
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