firenzata

Au Revoir (Simone)

Within a week, I took my last exam, moved out of my apartment, and traveled with my folks to Napoli, Pompeii, Positano, Amalfi, Capri, Sorrento and Roma.  We successfully avoided getting robbed in Napoli, scoured the ruins of the once palatial Pompeii, scaled a mountain on a chairlift in Capri (they graciously ignored the fact that I am QUITE scared of heights), sipped limoncello, and returned to streets of Rome before bidding adieu to La Bella Italia. On three separate occasions I thought my parents would leave me in Italy with our waiter (3 different waiters) in order to fulfill their dreams of me marrying an Italian leaving them with an excuse to buy up a summer home. But, alas, while each of these men was more charming than the former I was ready to take a break from “CIAO BELLAS”s, snobbish Florentines, and the land of dairy laden carbohydrates. What I wouldn’t have done for a tofu stir fry or some decent beans and rice is beyond me.

Conclusions:

1) The most beautiful men in the world reside in Buenos Aires, Madrid, and Roma. So spread your wings, ladies (*and gentlemen).

2) America is quite ugly.

3)  Stage diving is a DO.

4) Horror-elektro is not for the faint of heart.

5) Veganism in Italy is a DON’T.

**Museum Studies in Ethpaña post grad?

Now it’s Miami for a hot second, Boston for two months where I’ll be interning at an art gallery, Chicago for a music festival, New York for the day of my birth, back to Miami for some quick R&R, and then right back to Btown for our LAST (!!@!@$$#@$) year in college. WHEW. That was a mouthful.

I’ll be seeing ya (except that I won’t because I don’t know who EXACTLY reads this thing- except for you ally, christina, matty, and possibly jen and marissa but that still remains vague),

***UPDATE: THIS DUDE NAMED BRYAN MESSAGED ME AND SAID HE FOUND MY BLOG AND THINKS ITS NEAT (PARAPHRASED). HEY BRYAN WHADDUP. HE ALSO ASKED ME TO POST MY POEM AND I AM GOING TO DO THAT FOR YOU NOW. OH AND ALSO THE SPACING IS ALL SCREWY SO JUST READ IT AS STREAM OF CONSCIOUSNESS. OK SEE YA.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX LNG 

——————————————————————————————-

POEM (Also called “The Fisherman” but I have serious doubts about that):

I’ll never forget that scene.

My body heaving back and forth

Suspended breath.

Translucent streamers clinging to my

Shuttering lids.

You, on the wicker

Outdoor chair, under sun, reading

Blissfully. Is that iced tea? In your hand

Or- probably not- probably coffee.

You’re an addict. And it runs through your

Veins like my rage and my deafening screams

You cannot hear, because you never listen

To AM.

And you never look beyond your own

Viscosity, your milky, jittery flesh

The way you scratch your head

When you’ve- “oh man!”- got something.

Like a dog. Led by those hungry

Flickering eyes; Praised lenses.

“What a vision!” But I don’t think

It quite works like that.

They see what looks

Out, but I fear what looks in.

I know you do. I know

You have so many questions

that you stomp out

By jumping Up and Down

All, all day long,

Baby Don’t Stop.

Or you’ll hear those siren sounds.

The truth? Could it be? No no,

Let’s take some ecstasy.

Lie here, and kiss and play

Like swine.

Rolling on top of each another

strangers’ faces

New skin, so we touch.

Little tails of curly cues,

Ha ha! We don’t have a clue,

but we don’t care!

Feel the air, It’s free like us.

Molecules!

Expanding and contracting like what lies

between my legs, my sword.

Let me conquer you, my sweet.

Allow me to tell you how beautiful

you are, attach you to the end

of this round piece

of metal. Look how it shimmers.

Go on now, just bite down, it wont hurt-

Much. Three words, then four:

Don’t you trust me? There, there you go.

GoodGirl.

I’ll be going now, wait here.

Got a whole world to do, Must keep jumping,

keep jumping. You understand don’t you?

I’ll be back.

Please, don’t bleed on my carpet, baby.

Madrid, 2010.

My “last” post that I forgot to post.

I have exactly a week left in this little nook of Tuscany. This elaborate, perplexing, mind blowingly beautiful part of the world.  I will have spent four months in Italy, and have traveled to over 16 cities by the time I depart. All but three will have been in Italy. I am quite happy about that.

This semester has been (Wow, “has been.” What a strange way to speak about all of this. I don’t feel as though it’s at it’s close) really…indescribable. A strange word to write as adjectives are inherently descriptive. But, this is how I feel.

Lately, I’ve been doing this thing where I just do whatever I want. Which is great. I go to class if I think it would be in by best interest or engaging, and if it’s too beautiful out then I don’t. I had a flight to Paris booked but I really had no desire to go and I was having a bad feeling about the trip, so I got on a train to Milan instead. It all sounds quite silly, but once you block out all the “what should I do?” and “what am I supposed to do?” in order to listen to “what do I want?” life becomes infinitely more interesting.

I think this has turned me into a bit of a flake, because I sort of say I will do things if they seem appealing at the time, and don’t always follow through. And I apologize for that. But you can’t just go around doing things for other people all the time. It’s no way to live. If you haven’t, you gotta try this sometime. I think you’ll like it.

And I’ve learned that you really can think too much. That being inside your head all of the time keeps you out of your skin. It can act like a pair of lenses with a prescription just a touch too strong. That you can’t hear the world when your thoughts are on too loud. And sometimes you learn the strongest lessons once you turn it all off.

So, I guess that’s it for Firenzata. Tomorrow I plan to visit Chianti and Cinqueterre on Sunday. I also hope to go to a rave tomorrow night but I’m not sure if that’s too ambitious (Since I’m a flake, I’m certainly not making any promises either way hah). I miei come in on Sunday & we will be going to Napoli, Pompei, Positano, Capri, and Rome if all goes well. Maybe I will come back once more with some photos. I know we are an increasingly visual culture and I apologize if I have bored you with too much black and white. But I think words are hugely important. Here’s hoping you do too.

XXX LNG 

things are getting surious.

This is crazy. Today is the 12^th of April. My program ends in less than a month.

So last weekend I went to Amsterdam. Which was really neat. Stayed with two dudes. Went to this photo museum called FOAM and to the Van Gogh. Hit up the park. Rode around on the back of my friend’s bike. Why didn’t I ride on my own? Because I don’t know how to. So shutup.

We went out. Did that whole thing. Went to some coffee shops. Went to see the biopic about John Lennon. Chilled out. Tried speaking Dutch. Failed. Went to a flea market. Bought a golden elephant. Explored the stomping ground of some squatters — which included a wide range of graffiti, rubble transformed into art, and a skate park.

It was quite cold but it was nice. The dutch seem to be rather friendly and very trusting. Please excuse me as I make sweeping generalizations about people I don’t actually know.

It is a bizarre experience to see friends from the states in “foreign” countries. You can’t help thinking, “Where am I?” But it is also really wonderful and comforting.

—————————————————————————————————

This weekend my friend Ellen came to Florence for a day. We went to a Fiorentina soccer game. WHICH WAS NUTS. The Florentines are facking PASSISSIMI for their team. This old dude almost got trampled by screaming fans. They lit cans of colored gas on fire and streamed it into the air. They threatened to kill the Milan fans while hurling themselves at the bulletproof glass. It was great.

I also learned to say “Forza Viola!” to prove I was a true fan. I also wore a jersey and a purple sweatshirt. So people knew the deal. I ate peanuts that I cracked by hand and drank a beer. In sum, I learned how to be an American in Italy.

It is getting so warm and bright here that it makes me want to marry Firenze. But I am looking forward to this summer as well. I’ll be working at a gallery on Newbury street and hopefully hitting up some music fests. Just bought my Lolla tickets!!!#%@#%

Hopefully, I’ll go back to being a veghead (meat is murder!!!!), become increasingly punk rock (RAAARR), and kick this vile cigarette habit (hack, hack). Europe has corrupted my mind and soul. But, hey, it’s all part of “the experience”- no?

Things I am looking forward to in the states:

1.     Sushi, 

2.     Soy cheese

3.     Mum, Pops, Eric & miscellaneous friends (hah)

4.     Intellectual stimulation

5.     Coolidge Corner

6.     The Atlantic Ocean

7.     My own physical space

8.     The feeling of being “settled”

9.     The feeling of being “home”

10. The ability to communicate myself without restriction

XXX LNG

la la la mia vacanza

Allo allo allo!

Ciao tutti. Today is cool because I just found out that one of my poems was accepted into “The Laughing Medusa.” Which is a publication for female writers at my university. That is a bit frightening, also, because it was not a polished piece of work. It was quite honest and cathartic, though. And I don’t usually share these things with people. But now it’s out there in the universe. Which (I suppose) is good.

Spring break was fun. And intense. One because my friend was robbed within the first 15 minutes of us arriving in Barcelona. By robbed I mean pick pocketed. But pick pocketed makes it sound so petty. And we were quite freaked out. As we were four girls in an unfamiliar place and that was our introductory experience. Anyway, it was nice to be there because I saw this girl Elisa who graduated from BC 2 years ago and my friend Maria who lives there. We met at Parsons in NY. And she is just really vibrant. Elisa is doing a grad program in Barcelona. It made me think about where I might be in the world after graduation. And where my friends and family would be in relation to me. Which kind of freaked me out.

But here’s Parc Güell, one of my favorite places:

Then we went to Madrid.

Oh! Before this I went to Parma for 2 and half days. I stayed with Clare’s host family. They are the perfect fit for her. They are laid back and fill their house with art objects and it is cozy.  I had the best panino of my life and it was only 3 EURO (!!!) They have really great vintage stores there and Clare showed me the most beautiful book store. It was filled with crunchy leather bound pages with gold lettering and incense and dreamy postcards. I didn’t want to leave but she dragged me.

Clare in her camera di letto:

creepin on the host family’s digs:

Madrid. Went to the Prato and the Thyssen. I had been there with my mum, dad, and brother which made me miss them bad. Also, the Thyssen holds the first piece of art that moved me. It’s a Rothko. It kind of changed my life. So it was great to say hello to it.

Green on Maroon, 1953

We met some crazy Brits & Scots that were fun to party with. Met up with Fernando Jose. Drank ourselves into oblivion and stole churros. May have kissed a rando Spaniard on the mouth. Rar.

Here is a really pretty picture of me after taking a “marijuana shot.” The drink was lit on fire, then I inhaled the fumes, and took it through a straw. I am elegant and sophisticated:

Spain made me realize how snobbish the Florentines are, which was disconcerting. But it was so nice to hear Spanish. It’s funny how language has such a profound impact on one’s experience. It made me feel like I was home.

Amsterdam next weekend! THIS IS NOT REAL LIFE.

P.S. Everyone please listen to “The Greater Times” by Electrelane if you haven’t already. You probably already have because I tend to be “behind” on these things. But it is pretty and it will make you feel nice. Or sad in a nice way.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXX LNG

Bear hugs & tickles & warm feelings

Woah woah waoh It’s been a while. I apologize to the whole 3 people who read this for my lack of updatezzz. I’ve been caught up with living and stuff.

So what’s new? A lot I suppose. Time passes so strangely here. I can’t keep track of days and months. And there are people I’ve known for 2 weeks that I really I think I’ve known my whole life.

I have been walking and talking and painting and jumping and singing and smiling more than I have in a long while. It feels nice.

Christina & Jane McPike came to visit which was SO BEAUTIFUL. I love them a lot and I will add some photos of their luminosity at a later date.

I went to Siena with a friend of mine who looks like a Crystal Castles album cover. It was fun. I told him to get away from me since we had spent 14 hours together. But then he didn’t.

http://cdn.pitchfork.com/media/Crystal_Castles_-_Crystal_Castles.jpg

Today I am going to Parma to visit Clare Garvey. I woke up and decided. Which is a nice feeling to just want to do something and then do it. Hesitation is something I want to avoid.

I might want to stay here for longer. I hope this will be a real life possibility.

Need to go pack now. I promise to be more attentive to cyber space. I will also be going to Barchelona & Madrid so I will come back with stories I think.

BEAR HUGS AND TICKLES AND WARM FEELINGS XXX

sex tapes & roofies

I had 2 dreams last night that were so vivid that I’m starting to think that they may have actually happened.

Apparently, Amy Kerestenzeseses decided that before moving to Austria she was going to hit the streets of Italy. She asked to crash on my couch for a week or two. She became my fourth roommate.

Then one of my ex-boyfriends decided to make a sex tape for attention (with a freshman) and dispersed it throughout the halls of my university. In the dream, I couldn’t tell which was more disconcerting, the fact that it happened or the fact that the news wasn’t actually all that shocking.

What’s been happening here: I got two more piercings on my orrechio – la destra. Fun. Went to a bar on Friday where one of my male (!!) friends may have gotten roofied. Not fun.

Hung out with some real-deal Italian uomini that weren’t sketchy (a rarity!!). One of them is studying history and is “della sinistra” (a leftist). He kept making intense gestures of political protest with his hands and funny noises with his mouth. It was (kind of) endearing.

People here study in the universities for an infinite period of time. For example, this man- Lorenzo- is 25 and his friend who is also still studying (economics) is 28. O dio!! And this is what we, in the states, would consider “undergrad.”

Went to Viareggio on Sunday for Carnevale which was so wonderful and (per me) far superior to Carnevale in Venice. I found Venice to be a bit dirty and it felt more like a monument than a city.

RIP A.MCQUEEN

XXXX LNG

Why NYU kids are lame & other stories.

NYU kids are way less self-loathing than I expected.

Which is kind of a let down. One would assume that these kids would be alt-bros, indie poptarts, hip-stars, the last of the emo eyeliner, and some burlap lovin flower children who didn’t get the memo that everyone’s given up on the notions of “peace and harmony.” But nah.

They’re mostly japs and caps and other nationalities that tend to hoard loads of benjis in metropolitan hot spots. Some of them wear raggedy clothes (yawn) and don’t brush their hair (double yawn) but mostly they’re the day old leftovers from the ivy bunch.

And I’m not talkin chilly pizza that tastes better the next day anyway, I’m talkin Thanksgiving’s corn soufflé in March.

But seriously. I haven’t even seen anyone blowing lines yet. I have, however, heard the following unanticipated phrase at least six times now:  “My first choice was BC but I didn’t get in, so…”

I’m sure there are some anti-eagles who will be shimmying in their skinnies at the sound of that.

Oh, and I went to Carnevale this past weekend and it was a shit show.

How so? It was merely the unabashed fulfillment of every stereotype regarding American students. Was I on the outskirts silently judging these mongrels while retaining my dignity?

Unfortunately, not.

I helped construct a human pyramid in Piazza San Marco, smoked a J with a random Venetian teenager (do I want to admit that?), and was kicked out of my hostel at 7AM for hosting 5 squatters on the floor of our “princess suite.”

The good news is I scored this dope pic with the cutest kids on the planet:

I tried to steal them but they were too heavy.

XXXXXXX LNG

Bread that is warm.

I know it’s probably poor form to bash another blog within the same cyber-bubble, but “Rumi” of Fashiontoast is really pissing me off. You can’t just decide to go from pouty model to “arty” in one fell swoop because you’ve started getting Alexander Wang samples in the mail. Yes, you’re slouchy. Yes, you’re mildly emotive. But, no a high-contrast photo of metal chains does not communicate the complexities of the human experience.

www.fashiontoast.com

Speaking of hip-stars, Italy’s got em. I know some people were worried (as in my brother) that Eurotrash might not translate in the same way that muted clothing and heavy leather do, but don’t worry Clarks litter the streets like it’s facking Nolita and oversized glasses devour the faces of everyone from 14 to 85. And in a nod to quasi punks, silver studded shit is everywhere. But then again, so are Timbs.

Of course, I scored a pair of frames at a vintage fair/expo in the oldest train station in Europe last weekend. I had to haggle with a toothless ragamuffin to get the goods but they match my ruggedly mishapen doctor’s bag that holds all my feelings.

Oh, and I am going to start adding more photos so that someone will “read” this shit. I guess I have to start telling people about it first. Fack.

Ok, here’s one of my friend Kelsea being super facking xcore on a toilette.

[EDIT: Photo removed due to mildly graphic content. Aka a certain lady friend getting pissy with me. Pun intended.]

XXXXXX LNG

14 days in florence: 14,000 miles from home

Whaddup.

I am living in Florence, in an apartment with about 40 other students. Our digs are “on the other side of the river” away from the street performers and the boxer shorts emblazoned with silk screened images of the David’s groin.

Yes, some of the restaurants over here still have English translations on the menus but you certainly won’t hear American tourists yelling in the streets (unless they’re my roommates) and the markets are filled with residents who address their customers by name. In fact, I seem to have hooked an admirer next store at the fruit stand. He always greets me with a wink and a handful of free clementines. No complaints there.

I am taking classes on a 57 acre estate formerly owned by the Acton family featuring 5 villas, gardens, and olive groves (from which the school produces their very own non-commercial olive oil). I was told it is the largest privately owned estate in all of Florence.

My walk to school takes about an hour. However, my two routes consist of either crossing the Ponte Vecchio or winding through the storefront windows of Pucci, Patrizia Pepe, and Luisa Spagnoli. Needless to say, I am a lucky girl.

This is my school. It was a foggy day when I snapped this photo, but I think you get a feel for the surreal nature of the surroundings here. More to come.

xx LNG