It is May 1st, exactly one year ago Marco and I moved in with eachother our lovely apartment in Bologna. For me it was a strange year.
IT took me a long time to warm up to him, to feel at home, to be able to sing in the house or move about as I please.
Everyday is just a series of minutes.
Sometimes he would go out and I sing songs to myself. At first I would sing about people I left behind, my neuroticism, nothing.... ok wait, let's start again.
Rob and Christine were here, actually they just left from a week of staying with us and I realized it takes me a very long time to share my personal space. I have only ever been comfortable with 4 people in my entire life. Marco is the 4th and Chrissy, mommy and Eric were the first 3.
Being comfortable alone is one thing. Moving in the space however you please, dancing or singing or being crazy.
Breaking me in is like breaking in a wild horse. Poor Marco went through some serious tough times trying to understand what the problem is with his ragazza. Then one day the problem went away and now I can be me. At some point we started making songs and videos together.
This is a video of some times alone, some times together, some times I never thought I'd share but then realizing I am an exhibitionist decided I would like to.
I would like to turn these moments into a performance art series, where I make a room in a gallery. Picture a small room with mirrors, where I am enclosed and can see myself, and there are people in a larger room around my small room that can only see the reflection of me in the mirror. I can't see them, and maybe when I feel like it I will do my thing. My private thing, with some public exposure. Io sto bene con te.... sto bene.
I wrote this in the car yesterday afterwork:
Ho scoperto qualcosa…. Sto bene con te. Sto bene Cazzo. Rob and christine were here. And I was not interesting. I couldn’t bring myself to think, or speak, or be fun or be interested or be me. I am a cold person. I am not cold, like freddo… I am slow and nervous and need to warm up.
But it may take me months or years or minutes or a lifetime, and I may change. Melty for a minute or cool, and subito doppo cold, in another place, thinking the people who are with me would rather be somewhere else. I love to cook, but am not capable of socializing if I must cook, or think of cooking or think of shopping for cooking.
Rob and Christine write postcards to their friends. Right away . they think of writing postcards and then they write .
I think of writing postcards, ask my friends for their addresses, make a list of the people I would like to send postcards to, buy interesting postcards, or find free things in giro that are suitable, or collect small packets of take away olive oil that you only find in italy which makes me laugh because they have olive oil instead of ketchup.
I would like to share that with the list of people who I want to send postcards to. I get myself all geared up - wait new thought – the only thing I have to offer you is me. And nothing more. There is nothing. I am not interesting the only interesting thing is me. And I want to share that with you.
And I am not forcing you to consume you never have to read this, I may cry from lack of response, but really I will be just fine. Because responses stress me out because I think then that I must counter respond, which involves a lot of thinking planning and list making but little action.
Leaving you feeling unloved. And that is not true. I love you. All. Ok so I get myself all geared up, make a file, make a folder, make a bag filled with addresses and postcards and packets of oil. Then nothing. Nothing. In Milan I wrote 15 postcards I never mailed.
Dear rob and Christine I am setting new rules. One postcards a week Ya so marco.. I am in love with this man this week or this minutes and it matters. Sto bene con lui and im not afraid to share that. I used to be afraid for Many reasons. No one likes hearing about how much two people are in love. But whatever I don’t give a shit. Sto bene. I can be myself and strange and loose and easy and sometimes fun but mostly high strung with him. Cause I am finally sciolta with Him. Not always but now. There was a time, maybe for the first um like 8 or 9 months of living together that I had a hard time being me in the house I share with him ___________________________________________________________________________
After two years of living alone I feel like going outside and being with the people. It is almost 4 pm and I have to go get ready. all i can say is that i'm clearly neurotic
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