Almost a blog...

5 Years ago some events created lots of other events.

An italian online newpaper published a letter I sent to their Director.

Greetings Director, I enjoyed your article about the one on the daily Telegraph and the people hanged in the prisons( enjoyed your article concerning the Daily Telegraph's report on the prisoners that have been hanged in prison.. thanks to Joinee Matticus for helping in making this article more understandable)
I believe it's time to reconsider the whole celebration and just remember the victims. Because I had enough, I'm not for the silent minute, I'm not for the looping of the planes crashing or the towers falling. I had enough. It looks like that before and after 9/11 2001 nothing else happened. Let's remember the 2,973 casualties. That's fair and right. But please gimme a day to remember and celebrate also the victims, civilians most, of this Third World War which is not called WWIII but GWOT Global War On Terror.

Where's the link with Iraq? I still can't see it! It was funding the terrorists? Which terrorists? Those who hit Uk? Those who were born in Uk? So let's remember all the civilian victims because as the 1986 Peace Nobel Prize awarded Elie Wiesel said: "Always question those who are certain of what they are saying." and "War leaves no victory, only victims".

"Man tend to will to forget his most traumatic experiences, sometimes the brain actually delete a painfully episode"

- From my painfully memories of Psy

I ain't been writing something about love from ages. Why?

The first answer that blows into my head is: I don't need it.

When you are in a sewer, from which you gradually come out, to find yourself on a garden on the top of a mountain you don't want to deal again with smelly liquids and stinky air.

Do I compare love to a sewer?

No, I do compare the feelings that can born out of love as a sewer.

If I'd have to write NOW what I wrote THEN it wouldn't be the same.

Panta rei my friends, everything flows.

That's why I'm glad I'd written that bookblog of mine, because in those very mooments I was feeling that way. Now no more.Now It's hard to me even to remember.

It's hard to me even to remember the pain.

Maybe it was too much, or simply it's just a nonsense try to hit your balls just to remember how was that painfully feeling when it was daily, costant, tremendous.

Maybe it's a self-defence mechanism, or mankind instinct, that lets us forget to be able to risk again, to risk to fall into the sewers once more, to risk to fall in love again.

I know and talk daily with persons who are dealing with the pain that comes out from love.

Some are about to leave it, some are nealry close to forget it, some just pop in and out of it.

I'd love to answer to their questions looking for advices from me, but I can't.

I am dried. I have no words for you. I am son of my experience.

If a lady'd get close to me right know calling me Love, or Darling I'd probably would be staring at her with surprise and a bit of coldness.

"Don't call me Love or Darling" I'd say.

It's not time yet. I'm not ready yet.

But ancient romans who understood a lot about life centuries before us, they left lot's of writings like "verba volant, scripta manent" Words fly away, writings last.

This Stefs™ can't answer to you, he doesn't have the words, he doesn't want to do it because he feels unable to do it. But believe him when he say "I'm sorry, I can't do anything but pointing to you with my glance and finger what the Stefs™ before me have written".

Good luck

Aloha.

My idea was to translate my personal blog http://stefstm.blog.com

But one of the greatest lessons I've ever learn about translation is "To translate is to betray."

And that's true! What I express in my native languege will lose a bit of it's meaning each time I'll translate it. Do not believe me? Try to read the "Divina Commedia" translated.

Probably I do also feel ashamed of my english when I used to be proud of it. Time wastes things.

So long this is a dead beginning.

P.S.= I also hate when the browser eats my writings.

Aloha!

Once on another blog I wrote:

Love....uh, each culture has It's own way to mean this feeling, each person has his own "instructions sheets" explaining what to do with Love if it happens. There are those who stand and hope and they wait and wait and wait... There are those who dream and forget there's a real life too so they run and run and run trying to reach some place and sometimes they even success. There's who seek in pain this feeling... between the pages of a book, behind every corner, on an empty bus. I believe love to be one of those unpredictable things, that caughts you    

It's a trap!

Probably you were aware of it, but you fell onto it anyway.

At least it works that way for me: I see them and I can't resist them! I simply can't!

Them, these dots (...) each one hides a mistery and everyone who considers himself a good reader or curious to the bones can't run away from them.

Now I might act like a total bastard and keep you under the power of a neverendig dots line but I am not a bastard... I'm just a jerk.

Well, I'm supposed to be a jerk and if you live in the West you probably know what I mean.

All Men are jerks and all Women are bitches. End. First rule of the modern-living-toghether-society.

I can figure you out thinking: "Pal, we knew that already!"

Well my friends what I was unaware of is that what is claimed to be a fair play, in the end is not so fair at all.

There are tricks and bad hits, and these tricks are used expecially during feelings related events. Fairness? Forget it.

I guess I'll be writing just about them in the next posts : feelings.

You have yours I have mine whose are all mixed like the clouds over these mountains.

If you feel uncomfortable with what I've written:

I understand. I'll look forward for that.

Let this blog begin.

Skype: xephes-stefs            MSN: stefsthemad@hotmail.com 

I am a male and I like it. 

I don't have to suffer the pain of hell every three weeks and I like it.

I don't have to worry if someoneelse is dressed like me and I like it.

I can be proud of some parts of my body with persons like me and I like it.

Where I spend few hours every day it's like Godzilla's playground and I like it.

I am a Sapiens Sapiens, not very Erectus because I spend lot of my time on a chair.

And I cry.

I like to cry for emotion, for pain (This I like less) for sadness.

Every animal cries, maybe goldfishes in their bowls too.

And I cried rivers of tears up to day and I think I'll cry again in the future.

This makes me less a male? No. I can't squeeze a can into an aluminium made pudding with my bare hand.

If I have to squeeze or crash something I use more than 2000 years of evolution.

If I have to annoy somebody I use more than 23 years of experience.

If I have to cry I just do that. And I did it, in Salzburg.