honestly
i seek neither recognition, nor adulation, nor affirmation, nor fame for my pursuits. the things i do i do because they feel good. i am a hedonist in essence, and self-centered (why in God's name would anybody be anything else? are you alive in someone else's body or accountable for someone else's actions or experiencing someone else's pleasure?) in practice, which is a fairly accurate way to pigeonhole myself.
i do not need validation or sympathetic agreement for my choices, and really could live without the little bit that i do manage to accumulate through the affections and warm feelings of my friends or their assumption of my purpose, however appreciated their intentions may be. my professional life is a well-known and oft-trodden path whose sole and strict purpose is to ensure that i am never mired in the everyday or, God forbid, find myself at the mercy of the society in which i live. at any time, i can leave this armpit of socialist paradise if they finally do succeed in separating and send the last vestigial remains of our economy down the 401. at any time, i can uproot from this continent and re-establish myself in europe ahead of schedule, should the legislature in canada finally pass laws decreeing that all working business-owners must directly purchase 3 houses and a car for each politician. my father always said i should live on an island, due to my constant raging against what i perceive as societal garbage, the misdirected stupidity of western society and capitalism in general, among other reasons, and the best island i can think of is one made of money. i'm being as honest as i can with myself here by stating that the only way i can conceivably or comfortably co-exist in a village containing millions of adversaries-to-each-other is by sheltering myself as much as humanly possible from the notions and whims of that wonderful capitalist paradise i was born into.
rambling on, my work life doesn't define me in the slightest. i could take it or leave it and never look back. i don't need to accumulate more products, build more whatsits, or drive a bigger car to my office in order to feel fulfilled. i was born for a life of leisure; of that i'm certain.
the pursuits i find myself involved with in my leisure time are mine and mine alone. i enjoy them for what they are, and have often had trouble making my friends understand that, for example, i truly don't need to have my writings published in order to enjoy them more. i don't care about the associated fame, and only care a little about the financial gain (see "island" above), though i'm concerned that if any of my pleasures become financially viable they will lose some of their endorphin granting ability to me.
my physical fitness kick as of late has nothing to do with how i will look, as do my fashion choices. unless i lapse, which is only human when inundated with marketing as we are, i choose things i like and generally shun ostentatious anythings. this can actually be a negative, as some products i would otherwise enjoy i turn from sometimes without realizing it, if that product is represented by a particularly ubiquitous or aggressive marketing campaign or overly-presigious image.
i appreciate spending time with friends, and even overindulging our mutual desires to be heard and to be Important to Others, and thus far have managed to maintain a few (friends, that is) even though i tend to exhibit massively self-centered tendencies.
dunno. this kinder gentler america pseudo-motif is lost on me, i guess, or my folks didn't instill enough family values in me when they had the chance.
give me a piazza in Firenze, and a cafe whose outdoor table at which i am sitting is shaded, with no vespa parking permitted nearby (the fumes, man) and a comfy seat. give me enough money to sit there most days to my heart's content, and a decent espresso, a book of my choice, and like-minded company to share the occasional overwhelming sense of happiness with, and i'm content. when my eyes stray from the pages of the book, they should be caressed by buildings constructed during the Rennaissance, and a certain blonde/blue eyed princess sitting next to me should meet my gaze. my nostrils should be rewarded by perpetually brewing espresso, and pancetta or soffritto frying in olive oil promising an incredible meal to come. my ears should never, EVER, encounter a language whose roots weren't nurtured during, or at the very least encountered by, the Empire, unless it is spoken by a friend who happens to be sitting with me at that moment. The sounds of Dante's dialect should be prevalent, snippets of my family's sing-song Neapolitan brogue sneaking in from time to time from neighboring tables, along with waves of distant ristornelli or favourite melodies from operas i adore drifting occasionally at the edge of hearing like the sounds of waves on the beach in south florida as heard from a high building. upon achieving cultural saturation, i retire to a very small (500 or 600 square feet) flat on whose six hundred year old windowsill i can sit and see Il Duomo, and whose gas-stove-equipped kitchen provides me with a culinary canvas. fresh basil, rosemary, and thyme grow from my windowsill planter, my fridge always contains a piece of Grana Padano and slightly soft local tomatoes, and from time to time i come home with two beautiful Tuscan beefsteaks. i have no television, but i do have a computer on which i watch the occasional television show at my own time and with no commercials, enduring no unresolved cliffhangers or season finales should i choose not to. my bedroom window is never fully closed, and my sheets are always white linen. the old Alfa Spider we use when cars are required is kept in a garage on the outskirts of town, as our little electric golf cart serves well day to day.
This is what i want. This is why I am working right now, with the painful hope that one day I'll be there. Not a "best of all worlds" compromised look-at-the-brighter-side version. Now that it's clearly (subjective observation, i know) put down here in my online mental bookmark, I should find it easier to keep my eye on the prize.
i do not need validation or sympathetic agreement for my choices, and really could live without the little bit that i do manage to accumulate through the affections and warm feelings of my friends or their assumption of my purpose, however appreciated their intentions may be. my professional life is a well-known and oft-trodden path whose sole and strict purpose is to ensure that i am never mired in the everyday or, God forbid, find myself at the mercy of the society in which i live. at any time, i can leave this armpit of socialist paradise if they finally do succeed in separating and send the last vestigial remains of our economy down the 401. at any time, i can uproot from this continent and re-establish myself in europe ahead of schedule, should the legislature in canada finally pass laws decreeing that all working business-owners must directly purchase 3 houses and a car for each politician. my father always said i should live on an island, due to my constant raging against what i perceive as societal garbage, the misdirected stupidity of western society and capitalism in general, among other reasons, and the best island i can think of is one made of money. i'm being as honest as i can with myself here by stating that the only way i can conceivably or comfortably co-exist in a village containing millions of adversaries-to-each-other is by sheltering myself as much as humanly possible from the notions and whims of that wonderful capitalist paradise i was born into.
rambling on, my work life doesn't define me in the slightest. i could take it or leave it and never look back. i don't need to accumulate more products, build more whatsits, or drive a bigger car to my office in order to feel fulfilled. i was born for a life of leisure; of that i'm certain.
the pursuits i find myself involved with in my leisure time are mine and mine alone. i enjoy them for what they are, and have often had trouble making my friends understand that, for example, i truly don't need to have my writings published in order to enjoy them more. i don't care about the associated fame, and only care a little about the financial gain (see "island" above), though i'm concerned that if any of my pleasures become financially viable they will lose some of their endorphin granting ability to me.
my physical fitness kick as of late has nothing to do with how i will look, as do my fashion choices. unless i lapse, which is only human when inundated with marketing as we are, i choose things i like and generally shun ostentatious anythings. this can actually be a negative, as some products i would otherwise enjoy i turn from sometimes without realizing it, if that product is represented by a particularly ubiquitous or aggressive marketing campaign or overly-presigious image.
i appreciate spending time with friends, and even overindulging our mutual desires to be heard and to be Important to Others, and thus far have managed to maintain a few (friends, that is) even though i tend to exhibit massively self-centered tendencies.
dunno. this kinder gentler america pseudo-motif is lost on me, i guess, or my folks didn't instill enough family values in me when they had the chance.
give me a piazza in Firenze, and a cafe whose outdoor table at which i am sitting is shaded, with no vespa parking permitted nearby (the fumes, man) and a comfy seat. give me enough money to sit there most days to my heart's content, and a decent espresso, a book of my choice, and like-minded company to share the occasional overwhelming sense of happiness with, and i'm content. when my eyes stray from the pages of the book, they should be caressed by buildings constructed during the Rennaissance, and a certain blonde/blue eyed princess sitting next to me should meet my gaze. my nostrils should be rewarded by perpetually brewing espresso, and pancetta or soffritto frying in olive oil promising an incredible meal to come. my ears should never, EVER, encounter a language whose roots weren't nurtured during, or at the very least encountered by, the Empire, unless it is spoken by a friend who happens to be sitting with me at that moment. The sounds of Dante's dialect should be prevalent, snippets of my family's sing-song Neapolitan brogue sneaking in from time to time from neighboring tables, along with waves of distant ristornelli or favourite melodies from operas i adore drifting occasionally at the edge of hearing like the sounds of waves on the beach in south florida as heard from a high building. upon achieving cultural saturation, i retire to a very small (500 or 600 square feet) flat on whose six hundred year old windowsill i can sit and see Il Duomo, and whose gas-stove-equipped kitchen provides me with a culinary canvas. fresh basil, rosemary, and thyme grow from my windowsill planter, my fridge always contains a piece of Grana Padano and slightly soft local tomatoes, and from time to time i come home with two beautiful Tuscan beefsteaks. i have no television, but i do have a computer on which i watch the occasional television show at my own time and with no commercials, enduring no unresolved cliffhangers or season finales should i choose not to. my bedroom window is never fully closed, and my sheets are always white linen. the old Alfa Spider we use when cars are required is kept in a garage on the outskirts of town, as our little electric golf cart serves well day to day.
This is what i want. This is why I am working right now, with the painful hope that one day I'll be there. Not a "best of all worlds" compromised look-at-the-brighter-side version. Now that it's clearly (subjective observation, i know) put down here in my online mental bookmark, I should find it easier to keep my eye on the prize.
posted by carlo at 12:32 PM
1 Comments:
A vital vision. Most alluring. There's a palpable romanticism sizzling off this post.
Post a Comment
<< Home