The texture of the fruit was surprising. It was soft; delicate to the touch. It weighed more heavily than I expected as I shifted it from one finger to the next, examining its contours. The summer sunlight had made the fig soothingly warm. It had also tanned the exposed side of the already deep purple encasing. Now one side was a more vibrant shade of violet than the other. I felt the urge to raise it up closer to my face, to take a better look, to smell it, to taste it. The fig was not a showpiece; it had too many imperfections. I could relate to it in this way. I remember hardly noticing a trickle of its juice flowing down my middle finger. The heat of the Italian summer dried the liquid quickly and left a sticky, sweet residue on my hand which I refused to rub away. I quite appreciated it there. It made me feel more connected to the fruit which I so proudly cradled.
I was so mezmerized by the beauty of the fig that I had forgotten to look up for more than a few heartbeats as I walked along the cobblestone pathway . Venice is more beautiful at night, but the daytime reveals its character. Aside from the odd paddle rippling through the fluid streets and the buzzing of anxious and excited tourists, only an abnoxious boat motor threatened my paradise intermittently. More often than not, however, it was peaceful, calm, and comfortable. I felt like I was taking a walk through my state of mind when I am just waking up in the morning after the most satisfying sleep.
The colour. The colour was what captivated me most. Set on a backdrop of golden rays of sun, which played happily with the dancing currents of salty Venetian streetwater, the blueness of the sky was inpenetrable until I ripped open the simple skin of the fig in front of it. A red.. no... a deep and powerful golden-speckled magenta exploded out of the fruit. My eyes had a private disagreement with my tastebuds over which sensation was more pleasing: the appearance or the taste of this fantastic fig. I calculated how many bites I had left before the fig would fully become a part of me.
My attention was now split between the fig and the serenity of my surroundings. I had not fully considered the effect of the fruit on my feelings until after I had so carelessly taken the first bite. More sweet, warm, juice splattered down the back of my hand; down my chin. I felt a slight bit of regret, having torn open the helpless fruit... but it passed when I reaped the rewards of my conquest. The fragrant smell intensified; the taste was so sublime that I now consciously avoid describing it, for fear of failing.
As I walked and I marvelled at the magnificence of this fig and the beauty of my surroundings, I listened for the first time in a long time. I listened to the silence of my thoughts, which could just as easily have been described as euphoric or ecstatic noise. Perhaps this very same fruit would not have tasted quite as good if I had not been walking through the peaceful streets of an engineless city. The pigeons around me pecked about indifferently.
How is that in all my time blogging I have never mentioned my beautiful girlfriend?
She had to point it out one night in order for me to even notice. At first I felt terrible. How could I defend myself? I've come here and I've written about my dying dog, about Canadian nationalism, about airports, about incompetent bees... but never have I spent an ounce of my time to write about the one thing that I love the most in my life (even more than soccer, believe it or not).
I've been thinking about this dilemma for some time and I'm still not sure that I have come to an answer. I'm not sure that I ever will. It's inexcusable, really. Alot of writers have based their entire careers on writing about love, as if there were nothing else. I, however, have prioritized talking about Cee-Lo Green and natural disasters before love. How could this be?
Well, let's pretend to understand this phenomenon in one way--the only way that I know how. When I wake up in the morning, it is often to the sound of my phone ringing; it's my girlfriend on the other side. She speaks with a smile, I can hear it in her voice. She makes it sunny outside, no matter what the weather is. That wasn't a cliche metaphor, this girl actually has the power to do that. She's like some sort of super-hero or something with cool superpowers. I usually tell her to go away.
I get my day started and go about my business. Before long, my super-hero girlfriend calls me again and says in a cute voice, "Wha doooooin?" Now I'm the one that's smiling. We talk, then I tell her to go away. And she says, "One more minute?"
A bit later she calls me again. This time she's upset. She tells me I don't love her. She asks me why I don't call her. And I only have one answer for her, "Because I knew that YOU were gonna call me..." I know, I'm weak. Who says that? But I admit, I find myself taking her for granted much more than I realize: She's there, she'll call me, she knows I love her, why go out of my way when I can just... oh I dunno, watch some soccer or something? So I apologize and tell her I love her.
A bit later she calls me again and she says, "come ovvvver?"
I know, I seem childish, equating love to making my girlfriend happy. The point is that my day comes and goes and I don't ever have to dwell on the stresses of my love life. She makes me smile, she makes me laugh, she makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside (after 7 years, this is quite a feat), she pisses me off and aggravates me, but then she smiles like royalty and asks me to cuddle. There's nothing better than this feeling of being wanted, of being needed. I don't ever need to worry that she will wake up one day and not love me, and she knows she will never need to consider the opposite. Our bond is invincible. This is called comfortable love. And that's what I have. I have a sense of completeness in that department that only she can satisfy, and only in her way. The fact that I don't have to think about her in stressful terms all the time allows me the comfort to think about life from the perspective of someone who is emotionally complete. This affords me one of the greatest advantages a person can aspire to. It allows me to put all of my energies to greater benefit in everything that I do. My life is interwoven with love, and not a day goes by that I don't think about this and recognize how lucky I am.
Stephanie, I didn't write this note because you told me to. I wrote it because I want you to know that I take you for granted the same way I take myself for granted. We are so close, so in love, so much a part of one another that we are essentially one. All of my best memories are with you--the time I made you leave work and I met you in Gage park with 11 real roses and a 1 fake one; the time I stole a stuffed turtle; the time I bought a Moroccan drum in Berlin; the time I rode my first ski lift and spent the duration of the descent on my ass; the time I went to the gym and noticed that my glove was ripped...and it goes on forever like this. Please forgive me for not always calling you and giving you the attention that you deserve; it's not because I don't care, but rather because it would be impossible to care any more than I do. I wasn't lying when I told you that we are perfect.
And for the record, I've had this note open, in progress but unpublished, for more than a month. No matter how I write it, it seriously never seems good enough. I want to work on it for longer, to make sure I get it right. This is important to me. But I realised that if I did that, I would never publish it because I would never find the right words. So I've come to the conclusion that I will write a book about you one day... and that the book will not have any words in it at all. You will be the only one who could ever read it and understand it completely. The only thing the book will have is a title:
I was going to spend some time tonight thanking each and every person who wished me a happy birthday, individually. I wanted them all to know how nice all the texts, calls, and facebook messages made me feel. It's always a re-assuring and comforting feeling to see that so many people would take a few seconds out of their busy day to acknowledge my existence once a year, and I thought that the least I could do was to thank them all. But then it struck me that I have more to say to all of these people than just a simple "thank you".
I've been thinking (too much) and have come to the conclusion that maybe there is a bit more to this customary birthday wishing than we usually allow ourselves to realize. I mean sure, it's generally understood that it's a nice gesture to wish someone a happy birthday, but I think we often take for granted the more meaningful implications of it all. When we wish someone a happy birthday, we are not just acknowledging their existence, we are in fact thanking them for existing. We are affirming that they have made a positive impact on our lives at some point and we are telling them that we appreciate the fact that they are part of it, no matter how small of a part it might be.
Well this got me thinking even more: What about the people that are not really part of my life anymore? Acquaintances that have faded away along the years? People that I would not strike a random conversation with because they probably don't remember or care to interact with me? Surprisingly, again and again I discover that there are always a few of these people that will still write some kind words to me on my birthday. These are the most important messages sometimes.
Just think of it as if it were your birthday, and your facebook wall being written on.... If these people saw it fitting to spend some time making your day seem a little more special with their best wishes, they must have some recollection of you in their lives that is favourable. In other words, you have affected them positively at some point and they repay you by reminding you that there is still an unbreakable bond of friendship between the two of you, no matter how far away you live from one another and how little you see or speak with each other. It's times like these that you realize how interconnected your life is with everyone else's. You are not just a single person living your own life on a day-to-day basis within the confines of your own imagination and consciousness. Rather, you exist hundreds, if not THOUSANDS of times, in the hearts and in the imaginations of others--in their memories, in their thoughts, in their wishes. You affect all of these people in various ways, even when you don't think you do. In my opinion, the soul of the human being, that is to say, the essence of a person's life is partially dependent on the many connections that exist between a person and the rest of the world. Your network of friends and the people that you interact with is the basis of this. I'm not trying to tell you that you are nothing without a thousand friends to back you up; what I AM saying, is that beyond your self-perception (which is eternally more important) your existence hinges upon the impact you have on others. It is up to you whether you want this impact to be a positive one or a negative one.
On your birthday, you will understand whether your effect on the world has been positive or negative simply by observing the number of times you exist outside of your self. You will be amazed at how important it is to keep smiling, keep helping others, and keep living in some sort of community with the world. Never forget the power of your presence and your actions. You are just one person, but you are many people all the same. Never underestimate the power of your positivity. Most importantly, don't forget to always wish the people you care about (in whatever miniscule way) a happy birthday.
In summary, if you wished me a happy birthday yesterday, thank you sincerely. It means more to me than you will ever know. :)
(Credits for the above illustration go to Cesar Cartagena. He actually drew me that picture for my birthday, which ended up being one of the highlights of my day. Whenever possible, follow Cesar's lead and go the extra mile. Use your talents to be excellent at everything that you do. It will be appreciated and your life will be more enjoyable!)
I have a new mission. I have recently realized that my writing has become more confusing and complicated the 'smarter' I get. I have therefore resorted to taking a step back and simplifying it. I will start by trying to shorten my sentences. I will proceed by making sure my ideas are complete. I have this bad habit of writing half of what I'm thinking. I somehow assume that the reader lives in my mind and can see the other half floating around in there. Under this assumption, everyone can understand me perfectly at all times. I know that this is not so. How am I doing so far? I hope this works. Quite frankly, I feel like my writing has developed a case of the hiccups.
I'm annoyed. I just realized that only two of my sentences above don't start with the word 'I'. I'll be back when I have something better to say--when I'm done talking about myself. At that point I will try this again.
Thanks for attending this episode in the development of Riccardo Lo Monaco. Go fix something about you now.
I will now perform some idea alchemy. I will begin writing about absolutely nothing, and hope that by the end of this post, I will have developed an idea worth reading. If this sounds absurd, just remember that real alchemists based their living on their ability to turn lead into gold. They failed 100% of the time.
So I was watching Cee Lo Green's video for the song, "F*ck You." Excuse my language, that's what the song is actually called. I noticed, in this brilliant motown-style instant classic, that he has a recurring line in it saying, "I pity the fool (that falls in love with you)." I immediately think of Mr.T when I hear it. From there, I end up thinking of Rocky III and other positively intimidating images of the first black man to popularize the mohawk, years before it went mainstream. If you know what I'm talking about, raise your hand.
I am dumbfounded by the realization that there will be a certain age limit for this hand-raising. In other words, at some point, fewer and fewer people reading this blog will be inclined to raise their hands... in fact, I doubt most of them are still reading this post. They were probably thinking, "Who the HELL is Mr.T???" ... long before I asked them to raise their hand. Next, they probably proceeded to click the link to facebook for the 53rd time today, effectively navigating themselves away from my nonsense forever.
I also noticed in the song that Cee Lo compares some dude to Xbox, and himself to Atari. Did some hands go down? I only 'remember' what Atari is because I was told these legendary stories of the first gaming system and how primitive it was, while I was playing the ultra-advanced Nintendo Entertainment System (yes, the original). I heard horror-stories of a black-and-white screen, and a 'joystick'. I know... phallic, right?
Back to my point! Cee Lo Green's song - instant classic? Why though? Well... he curses in it... as part of the chorus. Most rappers have to FIGHT to get songs with explicit lyrics aired on the radio, but Cee Lo comes along and the radio is chasing HIM. Interesting. He's also physically huge: not exactly an American Idol. What does this suggest about the judgemental consumer? Has mainstream accepted Cee Lo because he is a non-threatening and almost comical figure? Poor Cee Lo, if that's the case -- he's basically getting bullied into success. The beat is also old-school; hardly something you could call new and original. But on the flipside, perhaps this is exactly what is new and original about this song. You might as well put your hand down now, I was about to ask you to keep your hand up if you listen to motown on a regular basis and could name more than just one artist. Could you even name one without scrambling to type it into google? I couldn't. So here we have the rebirth of the old. The resurrection of what has been buried in another generation, with the added effect of some bad-boy swearing and the cute and cuddly image of Mr.Cee Lo himself.
What about the use of these time-travelling terms, as I mentioned above? Cee Lo has done more than just create a hit through this song. He has blended the present with the past... he has made historical music. A music that captures the eternal and perpetual human condition and stretches it over half a century of human tradition. He makes it new, embodies post-modernity, and packages it into something worthy of purchase for the unwitting consumer, who swears by the code of "wanting something new and original." Has my post turned into gold yet?
Time is one of those elusive things in life that we always want more of and never can get enough of. We always use the same stupid excuses: "I would do this (or that) but I just don't have the time!".... "I'm so busy, I have no time for myself!" ... "I wish I had more time!"... and on and on it goes. These are the most humiliating excuses of all, given that we all have no time, but then we waste so much of it every day doing nothing. How many people line-up EVERY morning at Tim Hortons to get a coffee. "Oh but I can't function without my Timmies," they say. Ok fine... but then what about all that time you waste typing on your phone where a 30-second phone call would do? Or all that time you waste browsing through people's photos on facebook, or checking out what the latest thing your favourite celebrity said on Twitter? What about Jersey Shore (the ultimate time-sink in existence)? Oh.... RRRIGHT.... none of this applies to you. Sorry. I should have been more sensitive and not generalized like this. Fine then... I challenge you to examine your life and find out where all your time goes. I promise you will find out something about yourself you might not have wanted to know. You will find out that 24 hours each day is much longer than you thought, and that you might have to start focussing on efficiency and forgetting about making excuses for your laziness.
Today someone told me that she doesn't believe in the soul... that any talks of the existence of the soul is absolute bullshit to her. I just said the same thing twice, reversed the order of the nouns and changed a couple words, connected it all with three dots and tricked you into thinking I was being uber-descriptive. I just used a german word. The fact that you found any of that funny means that I made a connection with you through my writing. The fact that I was able to do that by writing to no one in particular means that there is a genuine flow of energy, not just ideas going on. This bitch who told me today that there is no such thing as the soul must have clearly missed the point. I don't believe that there is a holy ghost that is within us all that happens to be trapped within our body until death. I do believe in a life force... the very essence of which defines a living rational being in comparison to an inanimate object. This life force is based on feelings and emotion, and there is no better short form for it than to call it the soul - the essence of our existence. To deny this is to be a complete and total nincumpoop. I've always wanted to use that word in my writing and now that I have, I found myself perplexed with how to spell it. I guessed. Perhaps that word had it's origins in german as well.
I realize that lately my writing has lacked a particular theme or direction, and that more and more I come on here to just write freely and for no one. So--voyeur that you are--I hope that you content yourself with reading my personal diary; for if I had one I suppose this is the kind of stuff you could expect to find in it. No, strangely enough, I don't reserve this space and time for the criticism of others or to complain about the bad things that happen to me on a daily basis. Niether of those two activities serve to release my tensions or open my mind. Instead, I prefer to digress, to go off on tangents, to dream-write, so to speak, about all the peculiarities that surround me. And for a second, or hopefully a bunch of seconds, to forget about all the things I need to do, all things I should have done, and all the things I don't want to think about. You know what the best part about doing this is? Knowing that in capturing your attention, my noble reader, I have in fact transported you to my absent-minded state of mind as well, and convinced you that there is no other thing more important than to examine the arrangement of letters that I have here presented for you. Admit it, you haven't thought about a single painful thought this entire time. You might be asking yourself why the hell you're still reading this, but you must admit that this hasn't been a complete and total waste of time for you. Somewhere in here, you have made a bit of time for yourself and for self-reflection. This is more than you can say for yourself when you're not doing futile things like reading some random dude's blog about literally nothing.
Okay, so let's close with a thought of the day--just so that I be can sure that this hasn't been a complete waste.
