that was easily the worst ice cream i've ever had.

and to make things even more awkward i decided to save it for later. just like the terrible sex

'let's do this every day'

'lets save this vomit for later'

kamikaze.

the god damn thing is too huge for the freezer so it is dumped in one upside down swirl, vanilla, guilt and restraint, disappointment, self disappointment, and bits of chewing gum.
to not have ricotta, okay
but what fucking gelateria doesnt have cioccolatta??

biting bits of cheese in the fridge im reminded of earlier in the day when work ran over two hours and the feeling of being punished and sneaking bites of the babies food because i am so fucking hungry. remembering the line from paul bowles the night before... 'but the servants aren't that hungry, are they?'
their master inspects the dogs bowl before because otherwise they will eat it.



















even the prized buffalo cheese can't save the day. i poured out the water thinking i'd save a mess in the fridge and what i got in response was white leather, a little hard, bits of water inside. the dead body of my buffalo cheese.




















maybe i can eat it all in one sitting and then i won't shit for a week.

hey jude.

yesterday while taking the long way (seaside) to my destination i spy a girl in bathingsuit, holding an inflatable ring, a man walks along behind in just his wet swim trunks, playing the chords to hey jude on the guitar. a woman going my way starts singing in thick italian accent.
i cannot help myself and begin to help her out with the words.

i am in a much better version of that terrible movie, across the universe.




last night i was reading in bed and heard the distinct notes of an accordion pass by, strong male voice accompanying.

email to the fam.

i laughed out loud to myself on sunday when i was at the house of marilia's mother, babysitting and here i had just travelled about twenty minutes with ivo in the car, driving past beautiful countryside and hills on one side and ocean on the left, listening to ivo sing silly dance songs, and immediately i come in and they insist i sit down and eat with them, have wine (the same 14% alcohol content wine, which i must tell you i refused all but one tiny little glass) and coffee and ice cream, and then they insisted i go to the sea and take my time swimming there, while they took care of the children. i laughed out loud as i was being paid to go to what is now my most favorite, and the most magical place in the world '''' under the sea! i spied what i imagined was a jelly fish at one point, and was awestruck, diving under and opening my eyes and simply astounded at the beauty in the bright brilliant blues and teal and shape of rocks underwater and the light coming down in pin points of light. with your eyes open under the sea everything is blurry and perfect circles of color are fish and you reach out to touch the little gray spot and it moves just without reach. i kept diving under over and over and i couldnt get enough! when i came back to the house i wanted to write about it and tried but failed, and i wanted to paint about it but i dont know that i could fully describe how simply beyond anything i've ever experienced was this kind of beauty.

swimming again in my favorite place.

i have to make myself leave for here i lose all track of time, up and down, forget after a moment the salt in my nose the heaviness of the sea on my chest. up is down and down another dimension. when i raise my head from the water it is as if from a dream; i can barely remember if at all. through salt surrounded eyes i see a world of the most brilliant blue pricked by rays of streaming light.
perfect black fishes are gray circles floating in a loose school, a line and then the bright blue fishes too. i laugh at myself. i got myself to italy i am fighting the waves of the sea i am a mermaid
i am queen of the world.

kali jones. jazz fest. drum circle.

kali jones e io take a bus half an hour out of town for the free jazz concert in a small inland town. four africans and one white boy in funny african costume strap on giant drums and beat them like animals with their strong fists. i watch the largest one as he smiles with huge pearly bright white teeth and a pink tongue and sweat glistens in a stream down 85% cacao skin. his arms are as big as a horse. he sings loud and clear and smiles so wide his head might fall off like humpty dumpty when the corners of the mouth meet at the back of the head. he beats on the drum so hard so loud i was ready for bed ten seconds ago and now all i want to do is move dance sing yell.

i am reminded of wisdom and how he said in africa there were no longer any native religions, only christianity and muslim. i implored them to use their nigerian name with me. onchiwoh and onyekachi. i thought it sad and stupid they called english their first language and never usedtheir nigerian names with white people.
dying culture. what is more sad?

kali jones found a small scorpion, dead on the street this week. it was perfectly preserved, one claw open, little legs sticking out and moved all together like a beaded necklace, not like a stiff dead beetle or anything else i've ever seen dead. it was a dark reddish color and seemed almost unreal. i told her it was an amazing omen of good luck.

the sea has a voice and i hear the breath sighing as it falls against the rocks.

i laughed out loud as i ate ricotta cheese in my own apartment for the first time last week. i had found an apartment, let alone gotten my own ass to italy, successfully bought amazing cheese in the market, and had made myself a ridiculously marvelous salad and the taste of this cheese was so nourishing in my mouth i couldnt help but laugh out loud. so good for me.


the other day when i moved into to aldo's apartment, i found kali jones on the terrazza, in the hot sun, with her little sun hat, steve zissou sunglasses and a knife digging meat around the bone of a whale tail. technically, a sword fish but god it was big and looked just like a whale tail to me! i took photos, as i couldnt help it. her wavy hair sticking out in puffy wisps around the hat and this huge black tail, the knife, the bloody meat, it was beautiful.

she wants to make me her mermaid and use it in photos. her photographs are bloody astounding, amazing. they have been printed in aldo's magazine and i see them around her house. for the past two days i slept on the couch in her room next to her giant paintings, the 'empty' ones and a huge roll of paper on the floor with the image of her nude body, pressed against the ground with glue, then covered in black powder of some sort.
she gave me a book to read. stories. i am always laughing at her because of her stories and how humurously eternally dark they are. always the punchline is right in the gut.

sunbathing topless is where it's at.

it is nice to play like the boys
amidst a disney princess beach towel
tits out
sunscreen
the end.

today i swam three times in the sea.

i awaken with my alarm at 5-20, enough time to dilly dally before grabbing a cup of hot tea to soothe my morning throat and head for the shore. i arrive before kali jones, before the sun.

she comes in red pants just as i-d immagined her and i drive after her into the sea. the air is cold and so is the water as i imagine doing this in november.
the sun appears, an egg on the horizon a basketball stuck in a net then an ice cream cone. kali jones says it looks like the sun. i say an artist should have a better imagination.
we frog kick along, barely above the water, spitting waves, looking down -dont look down!- to see clearly the titanic surface of the moon clad in aquamarine, surrounded in spots by dark blue, black, fifty feet below or more.
we swim slowly a few city blocks and arrive at our accidental destination, la isula di cane, island of the dogs, where legend has it people used to sink in cages dogs they didnt want. the wreckage of the ship greets us quickly and we run aground, mermaids staking claim on our tiny rock island.
the lighthouse, a foot wide, has fallen prey to the sea and left a small foundation in its wake.

the rocks cut our feet, the sea pulls and pushes us with force up onto them and we sit high, surrounded by stalagmites and seaweed, and bleed.

clouds and wind. finally.

there are clouds today in the italian sky. they are small but they are visible and enough to be deemed clouds.
i wonder why the wind comes in such choppy motion and cant be one continuous stream of sound. the only sound in ortigia is violent wind in my ears, warm and salty. i watched a pigeon flying hard to the sea a feather separates, a portion of this creature and it fell high and was pushed away by the wind. it reminded me of you.
after such rapid repetitive light beatings the skin feels numb from the tickling of the wind.

erin brockavich.

marilia's family is full of cancer. they live in catania and many people there have the same kind of cancer. it is because of the petrol plant there. some days early in the morning you can smell it because they release too much into the air. they do it over night so people wont smell it.

marilia's father at lunch was talking about his town which has become overrun by mafia.

the little orphan girl who marilia takes care of has to be gone from her mother country 6 months out of the year because of the nuclear plant that exploded and the radiation. marilia says when marina, the little girl, comes back she is always very thin, and then they have to fatten her up.


at lunch i said yes to red wine and after two small glasses was getting woozy. i looked and the bottle was 14% abv. alcohol at lunch. drunken babysitters. never again.


i saw a cat while walking with francesco, whom i spoke to all night in only italian because i dont speak arabic and he doesnt speak english and neither of us speak italian very well. it was on the roof and i pointed it out, look how funny that cat is sleeping on the roof. he said it is not sleeping it is dead. and i became very sad, because people were just going about their own business and here was this dead cat hanging half off the roof.

many strays here are very small and sickly.

saturday night.

at sunset i am given one of those unbelievable visual desserts, bright cerulean blue up high sinks into peach cobbler all hazy all ingredients swirled together with a flour overlay. i walk to the sea and ewade alone, slow, happy cold dark water on my feet, til a big dog comes nearly charging at me. i am almost afraid for a moment, recalling kali jones' speech about packs of wild dogs and ripping people's faces off, but it is too late for this dog is female, playful, and following me in and out of the sea. she receives burst of energy like ap uppy and bolts across the sand, stomping in sand castles biting the water and chewing a plastic bottle. she is overcome with joy and devoid of self consciousness. i realize we are in common. i envy her.
she follows me a block or so away from the sea until along comes a cute boy with a cute male dog and then she is gone gettin laid whiel i am alone.
i watch fireworks from the bridge.

in piazza duomo are two telescopes bigger than me where i line up and view the surface of the bright, beautiful colorless moon. an art exhibit of the body displayed exquisitely, i drink int he color shots, polaroid transfers, giant uncircumsized cazzi.
above the square twirl lighted gyrating toys. they are spun by merchants who blow bubbles which float along the notes of the accordion and pop on my shoulder as i sit with tourists and cockroaches on the steps of an ancient roman wall.

la festa di venerdi.

we drive fifteen minutes out from ortigia, giuseppe drives like a maniac and listens to easy listening, cheesy italian music. past rivers and cane and vast fields of dirt ready for planting. i keep saying 'voglio vivere qui!' 'i want to live here!'
we arrive at a house party on a ranch, complete with sound system for guest performers, many of which are old and famous, and servers for little dishes of food, glasses of water, vino. this was a my grandfatheràs land, we made the walls out of sontes we dug out of the fields.

sun sets in an ever clear sky cotton candy bands melt into the field behind a green finger tree. three children, maybe 11 years old, perform a play and they are incredible actors, and i envy their mastery of this incredibly beuatiful language. i want to speak it perfectly and await the day. i am falling in love with this place.
i have seen one fast food restaurant since i came.


a kitten roams around here and i pick it up, then notice it is missing an eye. a fresh'looking wound.
i find the incredibly nice outdoor bathroom to wash my arms and hands, sticky with eye goo and take with me the skeleton key that was in one of the fancy stall doors.

karaoke ensues, waltzes, 'poker face' which iàve heard so many times since i've been here and it always makes me think of the drag show at the bar in lexington. they play beyonce's 'halo' and of course i laugh at you, adele, and sing along and think of home.

projected is a video of the last party at the summer solstice and it is low quality, home'edited, and makes me laugh because the music is so terrible and it is so poorly edited, they keep playing music like celine dion's song from the titanic.

i get a little drunk off the free white wine and plates and plates of amazing food. i accidentally eat octopus, and stuff myself on tables of amazing desert.