are hours drive. The hands clinging to the steering wheel, dry face and nose purple make me unclassifiable. Libertino Judah is on my side, curled up on itself and the pursuit of perfect fetal position. The rows are undeterred and follow the Marche landscape flows under the ass of my car, endless. Throngs of hills shaded from the impending storm I face the conflict and the highway seems to be a voracious invertebrate waiting in catatonic lethargy and careless post-modern. The frantic red blood cells of this colossal artery filandosi dry run on the day of my eyelids and then stagger under the weight of fatigue that grips me from Bologna. The virtual coral reef on the Adriatic coast, whore and mother of his bastard people, looms as cirrus clouds pierced by the stalks of the vermillion sun salutes this ungrateful earth radiation coobate. Caesar Mandela sings "Jackass, u will not rape me tonight" with zeal and wise Judah wakes up to yet another ring of the African-American singer. Stretches to do with cat and looks around stunned. "Where are we? And ... what time is it? "
" We are in the Marche and the seven ... I think "I observed a moment uncertain, give way to the look on the bloody slopes that stand to our left. I would expect the frantic flight of a vile witch lost in the sky of dawn, the gallop of a unicorn side by side with our metal horse, the thoughtful frown bear Mantegna grappling with the gutting of a hive or the royal thoroughness Pellagra of the goldsmith, armed with a trial and precious metals, ma tutto questo è anni luce da qui o forse dentro di noi, relegato in un buio pertugio chiamato “trapasso verso un metafisico e laico mondo di pene o gioie o vie di mezzo”.
“Siamo quasi arrivati, vero?” La voce di Giuda mi giunge tremola. “Sì…manca mezz’ora” La sua faccia è stampigliata sul vetro, asettica seppur deformata. “Quando arriviamo tu dormi che io vado a prendere un qualcosa da mangiare, ok?”
“Come vuoi. In effetti sono a pezzi e la testa…beh, lo sai, è un po’ altrove”. Sbuffa e cambia posizione stringendosi nelle braccia pelose, muovendo la chioma crespa e color seppia. “Lo so bene, lo so. E chissà l’accoglienza…a che ora è?”
“Alle undici, alla chiesa dello…Stilnovo?” Ridacchia e si allunga nel tentativo di dare tregua ai muscoli rattrappiti. “Tu di chiese ne sai, eh?” Riesco a sorridere e tento di ripassare le fasi salienti di una messa. Dunque, io sono cattolico – io sono battezzato – la messa celebra ehm, il rito della…la resurrezione…il dialogo con Dio…? L’entità che bestemmio e poi mi tocco i maroni, non so se avete in mente e poi alzo lo sguardo al cielo e chiedo mentalmente scusa e poi mi dichiaro ateo alle cene dell’università perché fa figo e le ragazze mi osservano con quell’aria vagamente interrogativa e io cerco di non fargli capire che, beh, in fondo in fondo, Gesù lo tengo appeso nei recessi più reconditi di quell’anima così ideologicamente sputtanata che tanto ho negato di avere. E poi, ci sono cose nella vita che ti fanno scendere a compromessi con mister “io non credo si fottano tutti io mi drogo e bevo e mi tiro tre raspe al giorno e mangio merda nei fast food delle multinazionali, sono uno squalo che divora e non da, divora e non da…”
Mani che scuotono. Mani che MI scuotono. Le mani DI GIUDA che MI scuotono. Mi sveglio di soprassalto, un Archimede ridesto nella vasca da bagno. Eureka. Raddrizzo il volante e torno nella corsia centrale. L’auto, poco prima alla mercé di mister Orfeo Bragaloni, ritrova controllo. Giuda mi fissa incredulo e la sua mascella da centurione schiocca ritmica, quasi a tempo di Caesar Mandela, il negro che al momento bercia nelle mia orecchie “U woke up, u finally woke uuuuuuuuup…”. “Ti eri abbioccato dibbrutto, cazzo che strizza mi hai fatto prendere!” Scuoto la testa e mi impongo una posizione la più scomoda possibile. “Che ti aspettavi, mongolo…se avessi la patente tutto questo non si sarebbe verificato. Forse per i sessantadue anni arriverà?” Lo scorgo solo con la cosa dell’occhio ma di sicuro ha alzato gli occhi e sta proferendo labiali offensivi. Circa l’effettiva esistenza di un legame fra e me e lui mi sono interrogato spesso e ho ottenuto solo risposte ottenebranti, vaticini di dubbio gusto e utilità. Siamo capitati al mondo nello stesso tempo e nello stesso luogo e la contingenza ci ha uniti nel tentativo di sentirci meno soli. Succede fra amanti, figurarsi fra provinciali compagni di bagordi. E’ un rollio in perenne ascesa e presto ci farà cadere dall’amaca chiamata apatia su cui abbiamo parcheggiato i nostri culi da universitari squattrinati e senza prospettive sentimentali e lavorative. Presto il contado chiamato rimorso ci assesterà una secca pedata nel fondoschiena e ci manderà a lavorare la nuda terra riarsa dal sole per tre carlini e un tozzo di pane. Presto madame Tempo will be thrown to collect what it can and will apply the Protocol without compassionate liturgies ever written but well-oiled laundering dick guy. And be happy, then yes, it will become damn humiliating.
I see the exit and entrance Pesaro with the terrible doubt that it is the wrong one. Judah sleeps again. And 'nice alternative. I'm driving, he navigation, to guide me, him in a dream world, I am driving, the process of Autogrill him, I at the helm, he struggling with the car radio. And out of the car it seems that the dynamics be repeated, upsetting my beliefs to be a versatile person and transformed. I extract a bloody boogers through the right nostril and smashed on the trousers of my new friend. That remains there, confused and shapeless, and I am delighted. This is not you expected, dogs.
national highway runs through some never seen before, followed by the pregnant clouds that have stamped on in chiaroscuro "cock breaking in store for you fucking terrestrial bipeds." Maybe they saw me reading, because sparse drops begin to dot the windshield and I scroll leaving trails of wet webs. Mandela angrily pull out the stereo and throw the CD in the back seat. Enter the Goblin and the atmosphere is tinged with silver gray light filtered through the overcast sky. Our entry Pesaro which seem to be anonymous, since there is nobody to witness our arrival and the houses do not give off no memories of last summer. I seem to be in another place, crossed by shadows restless and forgetful, not a place where frames without lids, mixed with mo 'soup of oblivion and so vivid and painful, succeed in mounting a mistake, yes, because those images do not belong to me, I do not want more inside of me, violate me, dragged me to my virginity cathartic. I'm already worn out although young, because I have more appointments worth arriving on time, I have no promises to keep, so does the same for me and for those who around me. And this commitment, but who wanted him to piss off. In fact, we are fucked advance. Do you want me tell you? If we were not parties at night, drunk and intoxicated by cocaine, we would never have come here, this tragedy probably would not exist and everything would still like last year. Maybe closing his eyes and moving backward, arms outstretched and his head bent backwards on the highway to Modena, leaving to take a murderous-looking lashes and I hope that the great purges, maybe Vanessa and maybe come back to life would not be too late and I could do it on the spot, without warning Judah, now prey to sleep, and his indifference so well hidden.
Berth almost blindly and clear stand in an open space with shortness of breath and heart that rages in his little corner of indomitable tortured chest. Rest on the steering wheel and hold back the tears, me swallow all, one at a time, I keep liquids. Also because now I could cry just vodka mixed with the mood of the vaginal bitch that we uploaded last night after the disco. I feel and I am dirty, earthy, mascara and beer and tie the pitiless witness, a shameless banner carried with little dignity. I look after the ones that seem to me a few minutes. The shadows have changed around. The first tree that you threw on our car, now draws more clearly see its outline on the pavement and people who alternating with a plexiglass booth and metal reminiscent of the gaudy show of technology 60 years. All extract and insert empty cart, pushing it more full, more or less awkwardly, with the car now seizes this nest of red-hot sun of fiberglass that mocks us from the gap that opened between the walls of cirrus sodomites. Judah Russian softly and seems to disregard the child who observes a meter away from behind the glass. His mother is charging the expenditure in the trunk and it seems not to recognize. The Judas Bamboccio instead fixed with that cheeky involuntarily frown that only a human baby under ten years and particularly pain in the ass they can keep you stuck on him for endless moments. Si accorge che lo sto osservando a mia volta e un moto di cagarella attraversa lo stronzetto. Non sai che mamma non apprezzerebbe? Lo sa, lo sa, lo leggo nei suoi occhietti e nel broncetto da avvocato. Sto pisciasotto si scoperà un sacco di fighe, oh sì, oh sì, lo vedo nel suo DNA e dal sedere della genitrice che proprio ora capeggia all’altezza del mio sguardo malizioso. Una mano da trentacinquenne ben tenuta guida il bambino con grazia e lo fa accomodare sul sedile posteriore. Quello mi tiene lo sguardo puntato nelle iridi e quasi mi guardassi allo specchio mi ravvio una ciocca di capelli. Il bamboccio mi spiazza e fa la stessa cosa e proprio nell’istante in cui l’auto parte celandomelo alla vista, mi pare di scorgere l’ombra del derisive smile with which that little bastard irretirà a lot of the same age and with a face hugging sarcasm I wonder how the hell could I be at her age. Yawning loudly and stretching his arms and legs for a while ', waiting for the cramps to give up their fetentissimi ambushes. My face is a collection of greasy humours of which want to break free as soon as possible. I shake my little friend, and between verses inarticulate cries and wakes and sits up with a look debuting in the late el'infelice. Flex the neck in an attempt to give an overview of the place and clears his throat, still hoarse from sleep. "Where are we?" I'm lazy and cleaning the nails. "In the parking lot of a supermarket, Pesaro
"Great! Great Lore! Are we there yet. "
" Yeah ... listen ... "
" No, no, listen ... "Open the door and comes out with unexpected readiness. "I'll get to eat, you stay here." Look at the clock and a wave of anxiety invests stunning. "Occazzo! It 's late! I'll be right ... we must be there in an hour! "I see him run away with the usual awkward gait from canine in heat and after a while 'I look away, disturbed by the imminent launch of our meeting.
When I arrive at the church's Isis that pulse in your ears and set out doomsday scenarios in my imagination pane view. Judah crunches romelline of listless and sometimes rummaged for fish in spending a can of pineapple juice. Without the means in the forecourt and turn down the volume quickly, as my passenger opens the door when we stop. We go down and immediately spotted the group of people near the entrance of the parish. Judah observe a moment to look full of panic and then move. We are reduced to a disgusting, disheveled, and gross liquids alcohol with shirts like maps. It seems that hands have penned cheesy explorer maps unknown continents on our clothes and I am not surprised that it does not disturb my friend, too busy licking the salt from the peanuts from her fingers. Lift up your eyes on me and responded to my puzzled look by doing. "What? What is there to watch? "I shake my head. "We dellemmerde and you even you realize. Give yourself a voice, we're going to a funeral. "Judas leans back, takes a few steps uncoordinated and relies on self laughing. "This is beautiful ... ah yes, this is beautiful, Lori ..." It is seriously broken and I fixed in position. "Fuck you think? That evening after we arrived here yesterday with a modicum of dignity still stuck me? "I look down embarrassed and fixed the tips of my shoes, suddenly so attractive, smooth and perfect. Judah things worse. "I do not ... I do not think this is a game for me, that I ..." you pass a hand over his face and rubs bovine stubbly cheeks. "... I take everything to shit. Come on, let's figure dimmerda but I guarantee you it would be worse if we had just presented. "
" I have my doubts ... I have no idea that we are making a huge crap. "My friend raises his face to the sky and for a moment turns into a Christ. "Next, Lori." He comes to meet me and encircles the shoulders con un braccio sudaticcio che probabilmente lascerà un alone sulla mia giacca. “Mal comune mezzo gaudio, no? Saremo in due a essere delle merdazze, là dentro.” Avvicina il muso alla mia faccia e se la ridacchia sommessamente. Io sogghigno e cerco di crearmi un’immagine mentale della situazione in cui mi troverò tra poco ma la sola idea è sufficiente a spaurire ogni ipotesi e lascio la mente fluttuare nel suo brodo primordiale d’imbecillità adolescenziale. Mi libero dalla stretta di Giuda, mi avvio con le mani in tasca verso la chiesa e lui mi tampina alle terga trotterellando goffamente. Non oso sondare il gruppo di convenuti, anche solo furtivamente, alla ricerca di eventuali conoscenti. Raggiungiamo la porta spalancata and besieged by Informa wreaths stench emanating from the soap opera and there we stuck. I feel a hand on my shoulder, and only then raised his head. E 'Jessica, a girl who went out years ago, there in Pesaro. It 'great to put on weight and his face is washed down with copious tears balloon. Me, I find him before he could utter a word and do not understand what I say, stapputtana. Flooded my ears with sobs and I start to melt, is the bark of black African man who became the month of the mustache ever. I hold her in my turn and I began to cry as well. "Lori ... Lori ... I ... sorry ..." I feel his words and I wonder what it's mind. What do you Sorry, latrine, God! Vanessa was nothing, nothing, you know? Do not you hear me? Stop it! Rest of clinging to the fat and I realize I need it because I continue to sob freely and quest'idrante eye I held stubbornly locked for days exploded in an iridescent rainbow of liquid evolution pierced by nails lacquered purple mass, including Vanessa . When I held her hands and told me you're my Schiavetto and seemed to wear the livery of prisoners and fill us with eyes to see Foucault's panopticon from searching, finger pointing and baton in hand, ready for yet another session convicts of heresy. Caesar Mandela had always had to say, soprattutto quando facevo sesso con lei in auto e tra le unghie viola spuntavano le liriche del negro e mi coglievano alle spalle con frasi pungenti del tipo your love ends tonight, your lust lasts forever, foooooreveeeer e io mi vedevo costretto a venire spruzzando odio in sede d’ufficio.
Il resto è già passato. E’ già passato il penoso incontro con la madre, accompagnata dal suo dolore, nascosto dietro lenti affumicate. E’ già passata la messa. Ed è già passato il feretro. Soprattutto quello. Non è passato il senso di colpa. Ed essere venuto qui mi sembra ora così pretestuoso. La gente sta lasciando la chiesa con mani giunte e capo chino. Esco e cerco di evitare Jessica and the whole gang of his friends. I see Joseph, who last year had drunk a bottle of Pampero all'Esselunga stolen by him under the house. Susanna, who kept a cat bastard in the house, always ready to ambush guests, and then impossible to find refuge in some hole. Roger, the jerk who did not give me ten euro for the barbecue held at the beach. I will not even touch them, so I feel vulnerable. Perhaps one of them spotted me, despite trying to mingle with a group of middle-aged people. I am in front of a man, tall and robust, with features strikingly similar to those of Vanessa. It must be the father. I had never seen and a bike impotence catches me with hot flashes. My vision becomes blurred and more tears watered her eyes swollen already. I squeeze his back badly and try to keep the sobs. They are the most useless and be out of place on this planet. The man looking at me dumbfounded, since they are unable to move to clear the road. I think he understood. I see that he cries in silence, with dignity, though. Offers a powerful hand on the collar of my jacket, and the system gives me a slap on the wrist. I feel shame new, acute, and never before experienced the feeling of inadequacy that comes over me every other feeling prevails, even emotion. Serro eyelids strong, almost make me want to break these damn eyes si ostinano a mostrarmi che pezzente sono. Sento passi lenti attorno a me, passi di piedi racchiusi in scarpe costose, di marca, con tacchi alti, solenni, di cuoio. Inspiro forte e spalanco le palpebre in fretta, rizzando il collo come uno studente colto in flagrante. Nel parcheggio di fronte alla chiesa non c’è più nessuno. Solo un sozzo e vizioso prodotto tipo di blandezza esistenziale che se ne sta fermo con i pugni serrati e lo sguardo tra l’accigliato e il colpevole. Giro su me stesso, guardando in ogni direzione ma non trovo nessuno a compatirmi, nessuno che abbia anche solo uno sguardo di rimprovero da regalarmi. Sono riuscito nella mia capricciosa e vile missione di passare inosservato ai più e ora mi mordo le labbra looking for my blood, the only one who can pay this debt of humanity to everyone that I have met in my life. I head to the car and I sit at the driver's seat, with feet flat on the pavement. I take off my jacket and tie, I unfasten the cuffs and rolling up her sleeves to find respite in the heat that is growing more and more. A terrible gash in the sky lets in the sunlight that pierce impaling me on the seat. I wonder where Judas, that cowardly bastard that left me in need, always ready to pontificate on the maximum brotherhood of intent, and then disappear dart off by Iscariot which is good. I let myself be guided by the intuition, and spotted a bar nearby, on a street off the square, I decided to get up and walk in that direction. The doubts are soon dispelled, as I find Judah perched at the counter, with a sour face in front of a pack of Winston and hairy red in hand. The restaurant is a real disgusting, smelling of cigarettes bad, bad breath and old telephone directories. A decrepit cabin of metal is placed to better fit in a corner. Inside are in an Arab man and a woman, facing a very tough call. Berciano gesticulating wildly and tear the phone from hand to each other. The furniture, all dating back to the sixties, inspired aesthetic repulsion, but at the same time, a painful physical familiarity. A band old, stationed at a table of color, unidentified, play cards and monopolizes the attention of other customers with verses in dialect. A kind-looking cirrhotic, not far from the fridge of bottled beers and wearing a baggy beret, sipping what looks like a low quality limoncino and stares at me with resigned indifference to life. Judah plays with a Winston, passing it between his fingers, and then lights it. Sets the clock above the shelves of liquor and snorts softly, looking at the bartender's ass when she bends to take a bottle from the fridge. It 's a beautiful blonde in their twenties but they are blinded by hate and I do not sit and observe.
“Brutto stronzo!” Il mio cosiddetto amico si gira con occhi sgranati e quasi fa cadere l’amaro dal bancone con il gomito. “Ehi!” Sorride imbarazzato. “Qual buon vento, Lori!” Mi seggo di fianco a lui e lo fisso, incazzato più che mai. “Sei sparito. E questo ti classifica come stronzo. Lo sai, vero?”
Spalanca le braccia e alza gli occhi con vittimismo da professionista. “Ossignore! Cazzo dovevo fare!? Pensavo preferissi restare solo.”
“Come no!? E quelle stronzate sul mal comune, mezzo gaudio?”
“Cose del passato, Lori.”
"The past is a dick!" I realize that I have raised her voice too much. The old stop for a moment their tight disquisitions on best tactics to win and they turn hungry for gossip. The Arab man leaning from the cab angry. "Silens, please ammigu" She stares at me too long and my eyes must not be friendly because it seems to contradict each other, even more, and falls by keeping their eyes glued on him.
"You have betrayed me and these are things of the present, my dear!" Additive Judah and he angrily departs.
"I have not just betrayed anyone. Vanessa hardly knew her, Lori! Cazzo rompi! Mica me la scopavo io!”
Questi sono momenti in cui tutto diventa distante. Immagino che chiunque compia gesti estremi viva la cosa con chirurgico distacco e sorretto da ettolitri di adrenalina che affoga, almeno momentaneamente, ogni tentennamento e rimorso. E scommetto che, mentre compie l’atto in questione, l’unico suo pensiero sia: “Non sono un violento, sono solo una persona normale che gli eventi hanno costretto a fare ciò che sta facendo”. La normalità deviata da un’ingiuriosa contingenza è la panacea di tutti i sensi di colpa più atroci. E io non faccio eccezione alla regola. Mentre spingo Giuda giù dallo sgabello e lo spedisco carponi sul floor am I thinking the same thing. As my hand hit him viciously in the face and the feel of his cheek hard and excruciating pain to the knuckles, maybe, just maybe, my brain quickly processes the same remedies. While I go running from the bar and I do panting like a criminal on the run with sergeants at the back, my pile of neurons hysterical mad chase to find a justification for what I just did. With one last fleeting glance I see two Arab infidels out of the cab, behind the old woman cried, wagging their disjointed sentences huge calloused hands and close the fridge sbronzone laugh in his sleeve. Strontium shall have access to this place for twenty years only in anticipation of this moment.
Now I'm running down the street at breakneck speed. I am surrounded by low buildings surrounded by narrow porches, all fairly new. I do not look back and I hope not to find in front of Judah, that Cain, bloodletting that devourer of good intentions. I do not stop for several minutes. I see a music store on your right and I get close, slowing down with elbows high, his forehead sweaty and distraught expression. My stomach hurts and my back, my legs are aching and my head is spinning. All the drinking and the snorting of last night I fell from exhaustion and disgust comes over me now is the perfect nemesis of so much debauchery. Incident at Neshabur room-filling del negozio di un’anacronistica atmosfera a tinte gialle e rosse, annaffiata di Tequila sunrise e altra roba esotica, davvero fuori posto. Mi affaccio dall’entrata e osservo la strada per un po’, alla ricerca di qualche vecchio da osteria con forcone e fiaccola in mano a caccia dell’ennesimo eretico. Sono erga omnes e distante da ogni possibile redenzione. Non mi resta che la fuga, indomita ed eterna, vile e maledetta.
“Scusa, posso passare?” Mi giro lentamente, corrucciato e perplesso. Una ragazzetta, massimo sedici anni, mi fronteggia, capo leggermente chino e posa sbarazzina, con un CD in mano. E’ di Patty Smith. Ho sempre pensato che solo gli eroinomani ascoltassero Patty Smith ma lei non ha l’aria della tossica, no di certo. Ha una calzamaglia nera sulle gambe secche da adolescente, una cintura con borchie di metallo e una maglia dei Cure di due taglie più grande, tagliata all’altezza del collo. Il viso è proprio carino, acerbo, interrogativo e pretenzioso come quello delle stronzette che affollano i locali rock per giovani rampolli depressi. Ci fissiamo per un po’ e lei abbassa lo sguardo sorridendo. Con una mano si copre la bocca e torna a guardarmi di sottecchi, lasciando ondeggiare le spalle. Oh Cristo! Sono attratto da una bamboccia di dieci anni di meno. Mi faccio da parte e mi schiarisco la gola. Inarco un sopracciglio e torno a controllare la via, timoroso che questo momento di distrazione abbia dato way to the suburbs to find them like a vampire caught in his grave. I laugh at my paranoia and as the girl passed me, I notice that seems curiously out of my idiotic expression from complete. I look at a pace to get away with fake dark diva. Mavvaffanculo! But I like it, fuck me, they do. I've never done it with a younger and I would be curious to juggle it at my leisure. I shook my head and I immerse myself in the music of Santana, leafing idly CDs on the shelves. Let's see. I wanted to take something Satriani, the last, perhaps. So much so, that Mongolian Judas, always ready to crapped every time he opened his useless orifice surrounded by dick face more stars on the planet, non è più nei dintorni. O almeno spero. Immagino che al momento stia smontando meticolosamente la mia automobile. No, oh no, lui farebbe qualcosa di ben più plateale. Utilizzerebbe un cartello stradale estirpato dal selciato con la sola forza dei suoi muscoli scimmieschi per percuotere la carrozzeria, il tutto di fronte ai passanti inorriditi che non oserebbero avvicinarlo, data l’aura di bestialità che lo circonderebbe. Un lupo mannaro emiliano a Pesaro, un leviatano inarrestabile, che subito dopo correrebbe verso l’edificio più alto della città per compiere l’ultima drammatica, beh, diciamo tragicomica scalata verso una salvezza ormai irraggiungibile. Mi piacerebbe essere là, quando questo avvenimento sconvolgerà the locals, but I have an appointment at four o'clock by the dermatologist, in Modena. And I'm a fucking healthy.
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