What do I blame for
the tedious lawyer
who towards the middle of his life
devotes himself to poetry?
Why I send my furious reproach
to the careful pharmacist
composing sterile sonnets
as the utmost medicine for his old soul?
And what about that woman
on her fiftieth birthday
who decides to entrust a belated
and arcane message to her skin
in the twisted shape of a tattoo?
Their search of the safest path
their quest for approval and respect
their habit of obedience
their deliberate ignoring the harrowing screams
of that one child who could have saved them
that one child they now try…
I haven’t published an article for over a month.
Yet, I have plenty of (more or less) complete drafts that can potentially become great articles.
No, not again, please.
There is an article I have been around for a long time. I insist on thinking of it as my next article.
I invested too much in it to throw it away and think about something else. I know it could be a good article, but right now, it’s very far from my standards.
I invested time and energy in it, but the more time passes, the less satisfied…
Imagine buying a book and reading it. Let’s say it’s a novel. You liked it so much that you recommend it to a friend of yours, who reads it and appreciates it.
The first time you meet at dinner, you talk about it.
I find brilliant the idea of the virus that infects the protagonist’s car autonomous driving system, making it autistic and unable to communicate with the driver — You say with enthusiasm.
What are you talking about? The protagonist’s car is equipped with an equine artificial intelligence system, which leads it to deviate from the highways to run…
It has already happened too many times. I can no longer pretend that the problem doesn’t exist.
I open medium to work on a story, but immediately my eyes are drawn to a damn interesting title: I can’t help but click on it.
— Just a look, I tell myself.
— Maybe this article contains some interesting advice, an inspiring phrase…
Then one line leads to another; other titles spark my curiosity. As in a time warp, I find myself immediately projected to a couple of hours later, or even beyond. I have minimal left of what I have read…
When I am faced with a classic, such as the one illustrated here, it can happen that a semi-transparent layer showing captions, explanations, highlights, and countless other information, overlaps the original painting, almost obscuring it completely.
This happens automatically, in my mind. It’s the information overload afflicting every masterpiece that has defied the centuries (paintings, but also novels, philosophical and architectural works, music). A web of references to other works, comments, criticisms, and explanations creates a monstrously enlarged and distorted work of art.
This phenomenon is what semiologists call intertextuality. The meaning of a text (in the broad sense) is…
A year has passed since 12 October 2019, the day I published my first article on Medium (and my first personal post ever). It took me 25 years to post something of my own on the web.
It was a self-essay about my relationship with writing, smoking, and the smoking-caused disease that changed my life in many ways:
In a year, it has been viewed 765 times (to date) and received 102 applause. Some readers still find and read this article today. Not big numbers, but they are of great value to me.
22 This year, I have published 22…
Imagine entering a room and finding a man there, sitting on a chair, hands on his lap, his head slightly reclined forward.
You greet him, but he doesn’t respond to your greeting.
You let some time pass,
then you say something about the weather, just to fill the void.
But he doesn’t even look up at you.
You notice by the movements of his abdomen that he is breathing heavily. He appears concentrated on something from which he cannot take his thoughts away.
Everything is alright? — You ask him a little embarrassed.
The man still doesn’t answer. …
I once knew a woman whose highest aspiration was to be a normal — At least, so she claimed.
Whenever someone uses the word “normal” in a conversation, I wonder what exactly they are trying to say. For a long time, I believed that others had a life manual that, for some reason, had not been delivered to me. One of the more substantial chapters of this manual should cover what is normal and what’s not.
— It means to be like everyone else. She said.
Here’s another generic concept: everyone else. It includes the Pope, the pusher in the…