Money Tree And Babies

I have not fled from Foggia, the book Alberto Mangano

Ho letto il libro IO NON SONO FUGGITO DA FOGGIA di Alberto Mangano. L'ho letto dopo Sepulveda e Camilleri, che è un po' come se Alberto avesse dovuto allenare l'Inter dopo Mourinho.

Credo sia un libro che i foggiani dovrebbero leggere, ci ho trovato molte cose che sapevo ma anche tante altre che non conoscevo, dai giochi dei ragazzi ai racconti della guerra, dalle tradizioni alle curiosità.
 
Conosco Alberto per essere stato ospite con lui alcune volte in tv, per aver scambiato pareri con lui su facebook ma soprattutto conosco il suo sito ( www.manganofoggia.it ), la più importante raccolta di materiale sulla nostra di Foggia che ci sia in rete, Alberto è uno che ama la sua città ed è orgoglioso di viverci, il che non mi pare poco in un posto dove tutti non fanno altro che criticare e lamentarsi, salvo poi arrabbiarsi se le stesse cose le dice una classifica de Il Sole 24 Ore o il Presidente della Regione.

Alberto scrive “solo che saprà rispettare le proprie origini potrà dare qualcosa alle generazioni future”, mi permetto di aggiungere che solo facendo ogni giorno qualcosa per la propria città (in campo culturale, sportivo, imprenditoriale) si potrà evitare di lasciare alle prossime generazioni una città morente.

Un'ultima cosa: so che il titolo ha generato polemiche, come forse sapete io dopo la laurea ho lavorato 5 anni a Milano e poi sono tornato a Foggia, personalmente non credo che la divisione sia tra chi è rimasto e chi è andato via ma tra chi, pur essendo emigrato ha continuato ad amare la propria città e chi invece ora vota Lega, o tra chi è rimasto per fare qualcosa di utile e chi invece ha solo saputo sfruttare qualche raccomandazione, grazie alla quale ha avuto un posto di lavoro che spettava a qualcun altro.

In conclusione: comprate il libro di Alberto, leggetelo e fatelo leggere, non vincerà il Nobel per la letteratura, ma è un atto d'amore per la propria città.

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The scout and orientieering

E' stato ritrovato e sta bene il giovane scout che si era perso durante la gara di orientering. In ogni caso mi sa che è arrivato ultimo...

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Loss


had old letters and memories stored in a wooden box beech, the ones with the brass reinforcements. Locked, had entrusted to a dusty attic, a far compagnia ad altre storie ed altre follie. Fare ordine, spazio, era un'esigenza alle volte. Come già in passato, il Mare non aspettava - e non perdonava - ed andarsene, da solo, era ciò che gli riusciva meglio.

Seguire la propria rotta .

Certi giorni amava perdersi nei boschi dell'Etna, lasciando che l'aroma del tabacco danese si mescolasse all'odore pungente della resina dei pini. In mezzo a quelle rocce nere, lontano da tutti, a un passo dal cielo azzurro, lì trovava se stesso. Erano fugaci evasioni, analgesici momentanei per le sue mancanze, per i suoi vuoti. Occhiali da sole mal celavano l'abisso di pensieri dentro ai suoi occhi scuri. Cercava la quiete nelle cose semplici: attraversare the city on foot with his music in the headphones, turn up the collar when wind blew from the north, enjoy the warmth of his pipe in his hands. Little by little change, but still not enough. The hull

craved the open sea, the real one.

was time to sail
.
" Every ship in harbor is safe
.

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Fables and dreams


From the window comes a ray of light that clears the floor. Friday morning. There is silence in the studio. I always like to be alone. They are the last few weeks here and already there's another waiting room and new faces and new experiences. If I say one thing and do the soliamente prefer to create change rather than wait for them. The sky is blue, striped with white clouds. Smell of tobacco. The desire for coffee. It was a special week. I always feel a subtle pleasure when I see that things follow the route that I trace, when the boat obeys the helm. It will be the 'Fall . It will be that by dint of sailing with the Sea rough now I've learned everything properly. It is always a matter of right distances, perhaps. Or right approach, I do not know. Then there are the memories, of course, the
the Treasury my most precious. The scents carried by the wind from distant cities. The new experiences. The smiles popular variety in the midst of old stones, unexpectedly. The promises of Cerasuolo di Vittoria . morning I recognized the face staring back at me with a half smile in the mirror. A captain of my acquaintance. All in all a good day today. Here
November. I expected you, my friend.

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Sail

There are things you can change and things can not change. The first usually depend entirely on your willingness

and the latter, the majority of cases, require some contributions of others. I clean. Throw overboard dullness and stupid fears, expectations, misplaced expectations and more. I put 120% of myself in what I do. And just enough for me.
'm glad whenever I can to force events, favoring a route to correct my desires. There destiny, fate does not exist already written: There is only our will and people around. But not always need to replace them. resize my interests. Or better. I focus only on what really interests me,

I focus my energies. I've wasted a lot in the past and even this was a cause of fatigue and bad mood. I must take care, however, only of my boat and my route.

enough for me: I love this word. I have already started to change what I was going to genius, to impose myself on situations rather than suffer them-and stay evil. " I think this is the difference between a Captain
and a simple sailor. Other times the rocks will approach threatening, scratch me and I'll correct the route. But this is

navigate. This is

Living . To hell with everything else.

"

thousand feet high waves

I do not lower their heads "

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's November

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upwind

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From the window of my room, far away, I see a small strip of sea. On it, a ship, a gray ball that allows me to understand the model. But it is a given redundant. Golden Virginia in the air. I try to imagine where it comes from the hull, to where it is Direct. People there on board. Maybe at this moment there is someone who smokes on the deck and watch the coast away aft. They are simple thoughts and reflections of a few minutes. Wind and yet they are sometimes too cool days in real estate. Always on the go, for business, and little time to breathe. But not the kind of movement that I like. E 'dirty

material. Here there is the smell of salt air that is breathed in Copenhagen. Here is dust and old stuff. People adrift, helpless as you jostle in a tavern, hungry for a piece of bread. It will not be a jacket and tie to make them better. Only life on the high seas could be. But they have the character from townspeople.
First day of Fall
and I wake up to the tune of falling rain. I look forward to the leaves and the cool wind, but really cool. The warmth of a scarf and the pleasure of wine on cold evenings of tobacco. Look . Look, yes, I also take to sea. And let the dust and the stern old stuff. Never trust, never.


Photo: Nave Palinuro school in Ortigia, taken by the Captain.

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Mild and useless life. Now. Here. The long march

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Fall



At the port there is always a strong smell of oil and salt. Water a bit 'sluggish. It's not stink, you can not define this if you consider the port as a home. One of the many. Watch the boats dancing calm, the fishermen on sediolina folding bucket beside the seagulls flying in circles and are placed high on the crane. Far away, the horizon is blue and you wonder what there is: what lands, what experience, at this moment, you're losing. not worth arguing with people. Useless to try to make them understand your point of view if they do not know how to listen. Dialogue is nice when it is constructive. All other times it's just a waste of time. People do not like me, then, that I care what you want, basically.
shift their attention away from himself too much affects the center of gravity, and then on ' balance. Then you need to jettison much weight as possible and keep only the essentials.
regain control.
seafarers. Head and hard rind.

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"That was always the Mediterranean, it was enough to give a little 'of attention to the faint memory recall: oil and red wine, Islam and the Talmud, crosses, cypress pine, tombs, churches, crimson sunsets as blood, white sails in the distance, stones worked by men and time, that particular hour of noon when the quiet and the silence was broken only by the chirping of cicadas, night in the light of a bonfire piled with wood adrift, while the moon slowly rose above a sea islands without water. It also skewers of sardines, bay leaves and olives, watermelon peels floating on the gentle sway vespertino quiet of the beach, the sound of pebbles in the surf in the morning, boats are painted with blue, white and red, launched on beaches with mills in ruins and olive gray , gilded grapes on trellises. And the shelter of their own shadow, her eyes lost in the intense stretching to the east, the sea looked real estate men, sunburned and bearded heroes knew of shipwrecks in bays designated by cruel gods, fake statues mutilated asleep, with open eyes, a silence of centuries. "


Arturo Perez-Reverte Pontina on at sunset, Latin night on a vintage black beetle in the direction of the Sea. The games in the evening, laughter, hundreds of photographs, tobacco & beer. The early morning breakfast at the bar with you. Sweatshirts and shorts. Themselves to be absolutely free and brilliant, who knows how many miles from home in the midst of "unknown" you always seem to know.
So the sailor's bag is filled with other memories, other experiences and good wind to breathe out when the air is still.
Arremba life as a pirate . With proper light, ironically, with a smile. Balancing the melancholy, without ever flunk a challenge or a proposal. Close leggermente gli occhi e affidarsi all'istinto, al proprio equilibrio. Trovare più di quanto si cercava, mai per caso ma

sempre per scelta . Schiena dritta, al timone sul ponte.

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Wind Sound

The white foam against the gray rocks and the expanse of the harbor swept by a gentle breeze. The bow of the canoe cuts through the waves, the size, the cross as certain memories through our thoughts. But in an instant and everything passes quickly, as my constant paddling. Right, left, breathe, keep a steady rhythm. Gait. The struggle continues against the instability of the half, the vastness of the Sea, the insolence of the waves. The sun and salt on your skin so you "peel the sailor." Concentrate, every muscle called to order, stretched his legs, his arms outstretched. The speed increases as the beating of the heart. Burn the city under the setting sun, burning bright colors and alive as my love for this sea and land.
'I ground. The sport we
slams face in the struggle of every day, that of life. If you hesitate, you fall into the water. If you're afraid to try, never reach the open sea to enjoy the colors and unique sensations. The only battles lost are those that choose not to fight. No such failure is never absolute and the same applies to the victories. why you should never stop, except to take the right momentum and the wave better. Will and perseverance, such as hardened steel. The future belongs to those who dare to conquer.
[
Challenge. And if it is hard not to like it].


Photo: Sunset at Catania from the quay, taken by the Captain.

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Old sailors' tales


I sniff the air trying to figure out the weather. E 'on June 1 but it could be October 1. I hold her in a scarf while I go down to the studio and if I look in the mirror I see my thoughts that I follow suit.
Hell is around corner. How about a swing pass from ups and downs, smiles and shadows. Walking on the bridge with the boat rolls. But this is the life of a seaman, and if you also choose to accept. not enough, sometimes, to think that in a few weeks we start, not enough, no need, when you are smart enough to understand that a place is just a different frame of a picture that is actually sempre lo stesso.
Io . A volte così ingombrante. Ma in fondo, se così non fosse, sono certo che mi annoierei. Proprio perché credo nella scelta, nella volontà . Il gusto della sfida. Non esistono situazioni di cui non essere all'altezza. Non mi sono mai arreso senza combattere. Anzi, forse, non mi sono mai arreso. Neanche da sconfitto. Per questo sorrido ancora.

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Che gli errori si pagano l'ho imparato presto, as a child. Learning from mistakes, instead, to learn not to make always the same, no, that's always been more complicated. But some do not die for so little. You change to the maximum, you will draw yet another wrinkle in the face and they close themselves off more and more itself but does not die. The sun heats up, but the sun burns, too. Breaks the skin, making it dry. In order to be in the sun without burning need to have a hard rind. It or have it in time, of course. The items always
and never

should not exist, yet at times I would. There are chests as vases Pandora: you should throw them into the sea, double-locked, that even the devil can find them. Accept the risk of opening them has not made heroes.

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Mediterranean pirate's life Browse

Days are slipping fast. Now that is just a moment ago. Exit the study, loosen his tie, just wanting to go home rest.

And there were far more strange days, the sun, kisses and skin against skin. Have you here with me, after all this time, feel tight, your smell, your taste. "How beautiful

" I said to you a million times at least. As in a dream, you just fill their days. Relearn how to count, for once try to go beyond the one. I smile a bit 'sad, you know I usually do. Sigh. Me and my shortcomings. Always wanting what I have, every time finding myself in a situation ... difficult.

Distance

. But difficult is not impossible. So many things have been difficult, yet alone I've always done. Again it is difficult, but they are not alone if you are you. overlooking the sea, out of the window. The Sea that was with us that night, the moment that I waited for years. Waiting for you. I believe in fairy tales, should know. And I believe in


this story. Now, as then.

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Insights

If there is a limit to the video of Jason & Crystalina is that they give few arguments "cultural" scaffolding for us Europeans. I can imagine various objections "sophisticated" than an intellectual nostrano opposed to their conference, or rather several themes that are not addressed.

I have often wondered what and who would be the equivalent of the message read Romance Without Regret . Now, a friend pointed me to an article on his blog taken from sheet, taken from times, which may be directed to the answer.

This is an interview with a Fabrice Hadjadj , intellectual French / Tunisian / jew ('a jew's Arabic name and Catholic confession) that sex and chastity has developed her own very personal thought, I'd say the original, certainly profound and disruptive . It condemns the bourgeois moralism, feminism 'phallocentric', prosecution falsely Catholic, politically incorrect things he says about homosexuality ... In short, leads blows in all directions and does so on a strictly philosophical.

I put his book list of texts to be read, maybe this summer I can. In the meantime, if you've teased enough, read the article you find here .

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Immortal




are racing days, days that I do not know how much I belong. Wake up early, jacket and tie. Studio, bailiff, stationery, hearings, justice of the peace. Coffee. Then in the studio. Lunch and coffee. Then again in the studio, until there is something to do. In the meantime, you pass the desire to do anything else. When sleep becomes your obsession, it means that maybe we should review something or at least try to get used quickly.
I did not even have time to. But I chose it, definitely.
Then I'll be a bit 'on the run because I have so many things to do, sometimes with a lot of desire, others without. But appearances do not deceive. Deep down, behind the stupid appearances, Pellacchia is always a pirate. And ever as now I realize that
Freedom is always a good booty
.

Buena vida.

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Hell is Around the Corner



Now I start to write more technical or personal. I have no claim to provide detailed information or "absolute" for what you buy a good manual - and there are several. But it may be interesting to throw down something simple that maybe you can come in handy during a trip or an excursion.
Orienting means, in other words, finding a fixed point reference by which to understand where you are and where you are going, thus reducing the chances of getting lost. Leaving aside the difference between true north and magnetic north
, I will comment, for now, more general. The classic method of orientation is to use a compass that indicates, as we all know, the North. There are also other ways to approach

, day and night.
One of my favorites is one that is based on identifying the

Polaris, which by its position in the sky is currently a projection of the celestial north pole, then the only reference in the northern hemisphere. [I say "currently" because under the precession of the equinoxes, the correspondence between this star and the North Pole last "only" a few centuries].
Methods must first find the Great Bear (or Big Dipper) and then extend the segment consists of the last two stars of the Big Dipper for 5 times its length. Come across as Polaris, which is the last star of Ursa Minor (or Little Dipper). A word that sounds complicated, but I hope that this image

make it more clear.
Photo above, the source internet

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Chastity chastity and abstinence

past mesi sono pervenuti solo due commenti sul video di Jason & Crystalina sulla castità (per vederlo e/o scaricarlo vedi il post precedente ), ma quando sono andato a pubblicare il secondo, mi sono accorto che il sistema ha qualche problema e già il precedente non lo aveva pubblicato.

Allora ho deciso di dedicare un post ad ogni commento significativo, aggiungendoci le mie risposte e considerazioni. Inizio da Annalaura , che è rimasta (involontariamente — chiedo scusa) in attesa dal 14 gennaio, poi toccherà al commento di V. del 7 marzo.

Il 14/1/2010 Annalaura scrive:

Io sono sicura di poche cose della vita, solo di una cosa sono sicura: perché la vita abbia un senso e perché tutto non può essere fine a se stesso, credo in qualcosa che è più grande di me, chiamato Dio che è l'amante e noi siamo gli amati di un amore divino perché diverso da quello inteso comunemente.

Lo spirito d'amore è l'amore vero che non finisce mai perché va coltivato ogni giorno con la scelta continua minuto per minuto della strada più difficile, consapevoli di essere nel giusto perché non ce ne può essere un'altra per le persone essenziali, serie e motivate di questo mondo.

Condivido in pieno tutto quanto il film peraltro importantissimo, a mio avviso. Mi manca solo un chiarimento: the difference, which I understand you do between chastity and abstinence. Why are not the same thing? Maybe chastity in marriage is called abstinence?

The book If You Really Loved Me , Jason Evert, begins with this question: there is a difference between chastity and abstinence?

By abstinence we are referring to the mere fact of "abstain", ie not to take certain actions. Chastity, however, concerns the broader question of the proper use of our capacity to love. So a person may be abstinent but not chaste, for example because his withdrawal is imposed by external factors (health, of isolation, shyness etc.). but inwardly unwanted and even painful, and perhaps offset by the imagination. Likewise, a person can be chaste and abstemious, that the spouses make a right use of their capacity to love ... loving, even with the body in their case, chastity is not (normally) abstinence.

Thus, in the case of an unmarried person would be simplistic to say that her chastity coincides with the withdrawal. Certainly will refrain, but must also cultivate the right use of the heart, the ability to self-giving and sacrifice, must learn to love others, guarding the disordered passions, eyes, imagination ... Much more (and I would say very meglio) che la sola astinenza.