IL PORTIERE DI NOTTE, TUSCANY AND THAT SONG IN MY HEAD

In an effort to emotionally detoxify myself over the weekend after long nights spent at work and weekends at B-Side, Penguin and the Museum Cafe, I've thought of downloading 4 Italian classics, 2 (Umberto D and The Night Porter (Il Portiere di notte) which were from Alfonso’s list.


(Raw, depressive yet truly brilliant, Umberto D is one of Vittorio De Sica’s best neorealist films during the early 50’s.)

(Liliana Cavani’s Il portiere di is sleazy (not even as soft-core porn) and disturbing. Enough said.)

For nearly all my life, I have monitored the general intake of seven million little things from food to alcohol, too much caffeine, etc, admitting some, denying many and occasionally longed for that second glass of Moët, but my body seems to be making the transition so much more quickly than my mind (laughs). I thought of re-creating myself by strictly lodging decisions based on instinct that I have nailed into place and getting past that wall means making a list of permissions (rolls eye).

No more limiting myself, or restraining the gag reflex while sipping a cup of green tea.

I can drink beer any time, any place, in ridiculous quantities and get a little irresponsible about it, NOT!

I predict a weekend picnic at San Gimignano and Volterra later in the year and indulge in the heavenly headache relief of advil. Still singing, I must wake up!