THESE PEOPLE, WHO SPEND YEARS AND YEARS AND YEARS AND YEARS AND YEARS AND YEARS AND YEARS AND YEARS AND YEARS AND YEARS AND YEARS AND YEARS AND YEARS AND YEARS AND YEARS AND YEARS AND YEARS AND YEARS AND YEARS AND YEARS AND YEARS AND YEARS AND YEARS AND YEARS AND YEARS AND YEARS WITH DUSTY BOOKS THAT WILL NEVER GET A JOB DOING SOMETHING USEFUL OR CREATIVE? THEY LEARN A LANGUAGE OR SEVERAL? WHY ARE THEY SO FUC*ING PRETENTIOUS AND DEVOID OF HUMAN CONTACT? N.B.to myself - University Challenge Does Have an Audience!
SHITTING PARIOLI MUSHROOMS
IN THE DAYS BEFORE I RUINED IT
WHEN THINGS WERE GOOD
WHEN THINGS SLOTTED INTO EACH OTHER
WITH EASE AND MARSCAPONE
AND OTHER WORDS FOR LUBRICANT
AND LITTLE GIRLS CRIED TEARS OF OPEN WOUNDS
AND OPEN SOARS AND LITTLE OPEN
AND THE FIRE WROTE IN NEON
THAT THE VERY WORST TOUCHES FROM YOUR FAVOURITE
FLOODED IN ON ITSELF
- PEACE WAS SITTING VERY COMFORTABLY WITH WEIGHTY WORRY
- AND SAID NOTHING.
NOT AS THING
UNTIL WE CHANGED, AND CRIED OR DIED OR ANYTHING STRANGE.
AND STRAIGHT AWAY THE STOUT BRUSHED THE HAIR FROM HIS EYES
AND THE NON-SCHOLAR REBEL REASONED THAT IF NO-ONE WAS HURT IT WOULD BE FINE.
BUT HE DIDN’T RECKON ON THAT GIRL FROM AUGUSTUS WHO WAS SITTING THERE AND LUSTING.
IT WOULD BE HELPFUL IF SHE DIDN’T TALK SO LOUD AND OFTEN BUT SHE DID AND SHE TALKED OVER PEOPLE AND MORE TASTELESS THAN MOST.
AND THROUGH THE WHISPERS OF GOLD SHE DISAPPEARED.
ST O’MALLEY 01/01/12
IF YOU SERIOUSLY THINK ABOUT IT, IT MAY JUMP UP AND BITE YOU ON THE ARSE SAYING THE FOOD IS A BIT RUBBISH HERE, GOD SHE DOES GO ON AND ON!
AND ON, AND ON, AND ON ……………………………………………………
the desire for wealth of the roman lumpenproletariat
I observe them, these men brought up to a life other than mine, fruit
of so different a history, here met again,
almost brothers, the final form
of Roman history, I observe them: in all
there’s an air of shepherds asleep
armed with knives; in their life juices
lies an intense darkness,
the papal jaundice of Belli
not purple but lifeless pepper-red,
bilious terracatta. Their underwear
threadbare and dirty; an irony in the eye
reveals a wet, red
repulsive burning. The evening exposes them
in hideaways, in ghettos
of narrow alleys, low walls, passageways
and little windows lost in silence.
And surely the first of their passions
is the desire for wealth,
sordid as their unwashed limbs,
hidden yet exposed,
deprived of all modesty,
as without modesty some fluttering bird of prey
pre-tastes a bite,
or like a wolf or a spider.
They long for money like gypsies, mercenaries, whores;
they complain if they don’t get it,
using gross flattery to get it,
boasting like Plautus
if their pockets are full of it.
If they work - mafiosi butchers,
beastly shiner-uppers, consumptive bums,
day laborers like dogs -
they all have the same air of thieves:
too ancient a shrewdness in those veins …
They came out of their mothers’ bellies
to find themselves on sidewalks or in prehistoric fields,
inscribed in birth registers
which want all history to forget them …
Their desire for wealth
is at once bandit-like and aristocratic,
like mine. Everybody thinks of himself,
of winning the anguished bet,
of telling himself, “we made it” with a royal sneer …
Our hopes are equally obsessive:
esthetic in me, anarchic in them.
The refined one and the lumpen-proletarian
in the same hierarchic order of feeling,
both outside history,
in a world with no way out
except through sex and the heart,
with no profundity except in the senses.
In which joy is joy, pain pain.
— PASOLINI ROMAN POEMS
The three gestures at the weekend party
Tres slightly plump boarding school peni
Went overboard on the plastic
Behaviour and simple gestures of their improper notes
And talked several times about their very proper
Near expulsions from this very proper plastic
School that pretended to be littered
Up to the eyeballs in wanks
And hardness and the gentle
And the talk of their wan king frenzied up
To the point where the fire went out
And the mouth next to me started to bellow
That the fellows should join him
On this journey of superior malevolence
Never met a man who genuinely wanted to
Show his arse to the world and massage it to bellow
With deep dark and desperate
And the noise grew worse as the
Fellows remembered how righteous
They felt back then, how the slightest
Prick would cock him down to
Reality and the idea simply
Put the next round of drinks down their gullets.
And they punched each other with the delight
Of a thousand empty nights
And all the empty thoughts that accompanied them.
Fellow number one simmered
Fellow number two gently spoke with mild derision
Fellow number three just simply wanted them madded
More madder than a mild version of hell
More sadder than the crazy artist he was
Than his hazy attempts at fitting in!
I was slightly bewildered and scared that
Men acted this way and that they genuinely wanted
To scare and dare the want from the
Eyes of non-believers
From the heart of my soul
And their soddenness.
S T O’Malley XMAS 2011
Thomas O’Malley’s actor website. Take a look.
One of reasons it’s great coming to Italy, is that I can research for my next film, based on The Allegory of Bad Government, by Ambrugio Lorenzetti - a fresco in the the Palazzo Pubblico Town Hall in Siena, Tuscany.
It is an irreplicable snapshot of everyday life in Siena in the middle ages. What can happen if tyranny is in charge of Government? - a problem which still has significance today. I have been traveling around Europe quite a bit for the past ten years. In that time I’ve gathered up impressions I’d like to share - they will come and go as I write - but I will try to keep things simple and beautiful.