Age Anne-marie Mediwake

Islands seagoing

Time passes, children grow up, mothers whitening, vision becomes blurred and the memories begin to fade. In the large triangular island the days are all alike and the dullness of daily life takes away the lifeblood of memory. E 'right to speak again of my week in the troubled and understanding of offshore islands before it's too late.

Island sea-number 1: Linosa
Linosa You should know that the word is an anagram of Isola N., and N. Asylum (Which of course, being an anagram of asylum island and vice versa). Is not it great? Linosa Among other things, besides being a beautiful island, also has a beautiful asylum. Every day, crowds of tourists, mostly Japanese (with a microfotocamere) are crowded around the little pastel-colored wall that surrounds the gingerbread house where the children linosane spend happy days in the winter months. In summer, the asylum is desert, and this helps to make it an even more striking, with its roof and windows of marzipan icing sugar. Almost hear the clamor of children playing with Barbies and girls who build spaceships with Lego. Yes, because Linosa gender roles are reversed: men are all wearing skirts housewives and flannel (and nothing above) and women are all masons wear tank tops and greasy (and anything below). Many sociologists and economists have tried to understand how the heck do the island's economy to stand, all being only housewives and laborers, but were unable to cope with them. The inhabitants of Linosa also have a huge belly with no navel, and their eyes in the form of Mandarin Chinese have no eyelids. Do not have sexual organs (women differ from men only through clothing) and reproduce by parthenogenesis on the first Sunday of each month. I'm having a long tail and articulated that they use to dust and be tickled. Only use motors to move the muffler and smashed bikes from the early twentieth century.

Better stop, before malmostosa ask if I'm writing this post a prey to the fumes of alcohol (hic!) or under the influence of a new synthetic drug sballosissima. The truth is that not everything I wrote above is fictional. We will not say what is true and what is not, I trust in your wisdom.

Linosa is a small volcanic island. The town has only 400 souls (in fact the people are 500, but 100 have sold his soul to the devil), and turns in less than five minutes. The quasi-island tour, however, is done in just under two hours (but this I told ). Once you have toured the country and the near-island tour, the tourists remain two possibilities: 1) turn over the thumbs. 2) choose a set and take a dip in the cleanest sea in the Mediterranean (scored for the second consecutive year Legambiente five sails, the equivalent of four stars of Mereghetti for movies).
Obviously, if there is a lot of wind, it is preferable to the option number 1, to avoid risking his life. The problem, however, does not arise, because Linosa summer there is not even a breeze, except once every 6500 years. Well, the chance would have Giuseppe and I giungessimo island exactly 6500 years after the last terrible wind storm. We spent a wonderful two days, days where we have improved our ability to turn over the thumbs. Days when our cheerful insouciance was not the least disturbed by the presence of a cute little mouse gas cooker in the humble cottage where we stayed. Unforgettable days, made more cheerful and lively roofs roofless and sea force 7.

Just before the storm. Giuseppe (left) and Sim (right), seated on a low wall.

A house linosane. Note the water bottle at the door, left there to allow weary travelers to quench their thirst.

Giusi before the so-called natural swimming pool , according to tour guides a perfect place for diving and relaxation (a whirlpool sucked all the water every twenty seconds).

Tal Onofrio Scifo called Linosa Hawaiian island in the Mediterranean .

Giusi sunbathing under a palm tree.

The huge and sprawling conurbation of Linosa.

Without words.

The Champ Elysees Linosa.

Sim and Giuseppe at 6 am, in evident confusion (note the matching sweater - flip-flops) and a semiparesi face, ready to take the boat to Lampedusa. (In this other photos Sim and Giuseppe have come much better.)

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Island sea-number 2: On Lampedusa Lampedusa
there is little to say. And 'much larger Linosa, is shaped like a cheese slices and is totally devoid of vegetation. There is an airport where thousands of illegal immigrants landing daily flying Air France and British Airways . The island is rich, the native run and slippers with gold Rolex Dolce & Gabbana, and the country could be more beautiful and taken care of Taormina and Monte Carlo put together, however, for dark and mysterious reasons, it sucks. Looks much like the more squalid suburbs the most squalid cities on the planet. The rampant illegal construction: even the sea is illegal, although beautiful (ha obtained for the second consecutive year Legambiente five sails, the equivalent of four chef's hats in the Gault Millau guide for restaurants). The people of Lampedusa are in all respects similar to humans, their reproduction is sexual and have a belly button (only have a head shaped like a cake, but you do not notice much).

The sea misuse of Lampedusa, made with six billion bottles of Evian water.

The beach of rabbits, where fine sand was made by crumbling six thousand tons unsalted crackers to the surface.

Giusi take a picture of the island of rabbits (I do not know how it was made).

Lampedusa Our house, complete with a garden.

you return home.

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BONUS: porn-horror show that Sim to do with his sly, provocative look hairless belly.

Um ... the photo there, but I changed my mind.

Final Question: in these days drpsycho is situated in Catania and wants me to go out with him. I'd like, but my time cows * are anorexic and a bit 'I'm ashamed. Also I fear that you will not give it to me. What do I do?


* What the hell is a cow's time?

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AFI - IBYP! *

at the end as usual
follow the method of smoke and mirrors fog
val
katana and a glow in your broom

My Home. The basket of laundry. A colorful patchwork made of underwear, bras, shirts and pants. There in the middle: a red jumpsuit. Zen enlightenment.

Phase hypnagogic . Moment outside of time in which blend into a smoothie mystical horizon of reality and that of the dream, when you are not awake but still not sleeping, and thoughts arise without there being a I to dominate. In the hypnagogic phase I saw Gerry Scotti playing bridge with a punk platypus (can you imagine a platypus punk?).

Phase hypnopompic . Do not sleep more but you are still awake. A picture emerges from the back of my mind. The white table well laid, the glasses with a green background, the jug-jug on the saucer-vasocolmanico blue fuchsia, pink towels, double cutlery, water Levissima, embroidered curtains, windows in front of the building that you can see, the broken chairs, plastic bow-legged table, the carpet (it's a rug?) on the heater, the floor, the mysterious picture, a huge mobile that hangs on the left and lucid and the belief ordinate on the right, another carpet on the floor. The dishes are all filled except for that of the father. Flan with spinach and gorgonzola gratin or lasagna baked with parsley and rosemary? It seems real. Serenity. I take the jug-jug-vasocolmanico green and I notice that inside there is a little yellow thing that moves, like a lemon with two eyes. It has no mouth, but smiling at me. And 'Candy Darling ! - I think. Damn, I'm already awake.

rational discourse will return tomorrow tomorrow
harmony and lightness
tomorrow cheerful contentment
hic rex iacet sepultus inclitus dawdlerus in insula virtualonia

Humor is an affirmation of Dignity, a declaration of man's superiority to All That befalls HIM.

The friendly postmodern world. One day, when the latent telepathic abilities will be developed in me, I will understand. In short, none of you (except Arianna Moyevich Edenclaus) knows who is really Paul Hackett. Few people know the crazy obsession to live in a Kafkaesque world. Ok. Long life to men, women, dolphins, pterodactyls, aliens, Olympics, arbre magique, calcium, phosphorus and flossing. Long live the expanding universe and all that Ambaradan.

* A Foolish Interlude - I Beg Your Pardon!

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Cows time * biorhythms have unpacked and I can no longer know when I have time and when not. Should I spend most of my time trying to figure out if I have time, but this would be a really too stupid to waste time (and I love to spend time in an intelligent way, whatever that means). I think it's better to ignore it, for one evening.

Where were we? If anyone knows a way to fool pick up the thread of a discourse of where were we? let me know. What does this with what I say and, more importantly, what I mean? I do not know, and I do not care.

Where were we? Ah, yes, to Linosa with flip-flops. I had promised myself to write something about the wind storm, the broken refrigerator, the rat in the kitchen of Mrs. Philomena satanic laughter, the cubicle of Lampedusa, the taxi-mafia Porto Empedocles, Venus on the half shell, etc.. etc. and I will. I love to go in order, but they are damn inconsistent, so do not follow any order and tell you everything randomly, shake each other's events. (The truth is that they are so inconsistent as not being able to be consistent in my inconsistency, then, paradoxically, I usually end up being relatively consistent. That's why still follow a certain order.)

The taxi-mafia Porto Empedocles: The plane is the best means of getting from point A to point B, if the goal and not interested in the trip itself (yes, I know, the real goal is the journey and bla bla bla). By now, if you choose to fly with any airline other than Alitalia to be paid very little. The plane is fast, quiet, painless. And then it is safe, much safer than buses, trains, ships, cars and teleportation ( Raymond Babbitt is not the same opinion, but never mind). The best way to achieve Linosa, regardless of the town, is to take the trip to Lampedusa Lampedusa Linosa and then by boat in two hours or so. However, I've always known this. Before giving my first cry so, while still revel in the amniotic fluid, I already knew. Sometimes, however, know something is good for nothing (I know that Berlusconi is an idiot, but he continued undaunted to be president of the board). A month before our departure flights of Meridiana and Palermo-Catania Lampedusa Lampedusa were already fully booked (if you decide to travel by plane, remember that you must book your flight before you even decide to travel by plane), so me and Giusi we were forced to opt for the TSA, the awesome alternative solution, namely: 1) Catania-Agrigento by bus (3 hours = 10 €) - 2) Agrigento-Porto Empedocles by bus (15 minutes, 1 or 2 ergo € at most, assumed ) - 3) Porto Empedocle-Linosa by boat (6 hours = 26 €).

BIIIP! Serious mistake to step 2. We did not put in the income of the taxi-mafia Porto Empedocles, a terrible criminal organization so as to fade branched and sprawling mafia, ' Ndrangheta, Camorra , yakuza and Chinese triads combined. Paradoxically, what allows this perfect organization to stand and prosper is the belief that deep-rooted and widespread disorganization here in Sicily is the norm. In Sicily it does not work next to nothing, and if something works, it works poorly or briefly. The fact that anarchy, neglect, indifference, and cronyism reign everywhere mafia would not cause surprise or in tourists who come from afar or in native gattopardescamente now resigned to this state of affairs. A single ship connects Porto Empedocle the Pelagie. The ship departs from Porto Empedocles at midnight, arriving at Linosa at six-thirty in the morning, again after ten minutes to eight and a half stops to Lampedusa. At 10 starts the opposite direction, stops at noon Linosa and arrives in Porto Empedocle at about 18:30. So every day and every night. No coach and no direct train Porto Empedocles the rest of the world. Who wants to go to Porto Empedocles must still stop at Agrigento, and who wants to get away from Porto Empedocles from Agrigento is by force.

Now, knowing the absurdity of the situation, it is my assumption has been that there was at least an efficient public service can ensure, especially in the summer, a constant and continuous connection between the city of Pirandello and that of Camilleri (now also called Vigata , as if this was enough to attract some tourists). The undersigned forget that Sicily should never take anything for granted. Giuseppe and I have taken the coach of 18.00 and, after a fantastic journey across half of Sicily (the air conditioning was not working and there were 38 degrees in the shade, the sun 40 and 50 inside the bus, behind us sat a nice lady, covered with a layer of scent often twenty centimeters, and the driver, obviously a bit 'tipsy, was driving in a zig-zag and change the radio station every 20 seconds) we arrived in Agrigento at 21, healthy, safe and ready to load our luggage on the first bus to Porto Empedocle. There, in the deserted square where the bus had downloaded it while my eyes wandered lost in the dust and silence in search of a phantom bus, I heard a strange hiss, as the seconds passed, became more acute and disturbing, almost deafening. For a few moments my mind was clouded and I almost go crazy: the hissing grew in intensity, seemed to come from the mouths of hell, it was excruciating and frightening. I was saved thanks to Giuseppe, who with a slap managed to get me back to reality. And then I understood. I understood everything.

was not a hiss, but a grin. The mocking laugh of a fucking taxi mafia (or Mafia driver): 130 kg, uncertain age, shirt open to show the superb generously delights of her breasts hairy, fake solid gold necklace and cigarette. A hideous demon that seemed to have been born from the imagination of Hieronymus Bosch or Kentaro Miura was there before me. It was real. And grinned. It 's been a while, but I felt that the time had stopped, I believed to have been condemned for eternity to contemplate quell'immonda creature. Until it, the Creature, he opened his mouth, showing a string of teeth from the undefined color, from yellow and green, like twisted stalactites. I thought that would gobble up, and instead spoke: carusi, please click the autobuss? viriti about the uttimu autobuss pì Pottu Empeducle was all'ottu and dementia ... (trans. guys, try the bus? See that the last bus to Porto Empedocle started at eight and a half ...) , he stopped to breathe, or rather to suck the air as a turbine with those blacks who had huge holes instead of his nostrils, he waited in the cold penetrated our bones and resumed: ... but vuliti, the more we will potto iu twenty euros. (translation but if you want, for twenty euro I'll take you there.) A spark in his eyes inhumane, and that grin again Mephistopheles. Desperate, distraught, annihilated, we have sold. Twenty euro. Ten kilometers. A quarter of an hour's drive. Meter off. I would rather go on foot or by hitchhiking, but we had too much luggage. There was no alternative.

course, once back, we found ourselves in the same situation. We were prepared, however, and we managed to save us from the clutches of another vulture of taxi mafia-calling to our aid with a fearless hero Tunisian blue van. But that's another story, the cows are tired and time * have become anorexic.

* What the hell is a cow's time?

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Taxi-mafia "that stuff"

Incredible, so incredible that they are kept dry and be deposited at the same time. A historic event: in this period of time * skeletal cows and stunted, I select from five net minutes to devote to the totem pixelated! Ok, I will see do not waste even a nanosecond (oops, I already did). I wanted to talk (or speak you, I speak , certainly not speak them)? Ah, yes, of Linosa, Lampedusa, and that stuff.

Linosa is small, very small, so small that if there are over a thousand people at the same time, it sinks. SPATATRANG, SBLOGLORG (the islands are sinking this noise, I do not know?) And goodbye forever Amen lush and remote island in the middle of the Strait of Sicily. Linosa is so small that I Giusi and we all turned in less than two hours. In fact do a complete tour of the island is impossible, because none of the four roads it runs the entire perimeter. What is certain is that we did about ten miles on foot, we started from the country (located in the south) and that we are going back to the country from the south, east, north and west of a piece. Another sure thing is that I would rather do almost-island tour with hiking boots or tennis, and I would have been content to do it in bare feet , like Tom Sawyer and Huckleberry Finn, but absolutely not with flip-flops, so fashionable among the young men of this century. But no, Giuseppe, Baphomet in a skirt, I forced to wear those shoes filthy. Result: while walking the big toe of his right foot, shocked by the atrocious suffering, did seppuku and was detached from the body (that of the left foot is unconscious).

Damn, it's been already six minutes and fourteen seconds, and I have not yet talked about the wind storm, the refrigerator broke, the mice in the kitchen of Mrs. Philomena satanic laughter, the cubicle di Lampedusa, the taxi-mafia Porto Empedocles, of Venus on the half shell , etc.. etc. I will do when the cows are a bit time * 'fatter, ok? I know the wait sarà dura, ma cercate di resistere.


*Che cavolo è una vacca temporale?

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No, toasted

Sim: che giorno è oggi?
Zia M.: il 3 agosto .
Sim: sicura?
Zia M.: sì.
Sim: sicura sicura?
Zia M.: sì, cazzo, è il fottutissimo terzo giorno del fottutissimo ottavo mese del fottutissimo duemilaquattresimo anno, secondo il fottutissimo calendario gregoriano.
Sim: santo cielo, questo vuol dire che sono tornato.
Zia M.: sei tornato?
Sim: cosa?
Zia M.: eh?
Sim: che cavolo stai dicendo?
Zia M.: io?
Sim: no. Zia M.
here.