London for ever - 34

 I try to totally concentrate on the discussion.

I say that I no longer I’m expecting  anything good from Italian politicians, after just over a century of mismanagement, since  political unity, which has not followed any social unity. Touching obviously dear themes to Giampiero.

“Italy is a bad mosaic of peoples with too many problems to be treated with the same medicine” – he replies to me – “ Only  the worker’s movement can succeed uniting  these different people, giving them a strong  identity to  join together like the fingers of a hand!! "- he concludes closing his right hand in a tight fist.

I tell him that I do not  longer believe in the workers' movement;  neither I  longer believe in the model of state organization inherited by the French Revolution, with tired rites of indirect representative democracy ...

- "You're wrong to take the French Revolution as a point of reference. The real, unique revolution from which the talk is, is the revolution ......... "

-" Revolution? On Saturday night all the serious speeches are banned, "- Michelle says cheerfully -" “Look at what Marcus gave me! "- she says  showing  us a black ball she holds between her  index and the thumb. "" Do you want to roll it? "She turns to me.

- "No, I think I’ll do it" - offers Giampiero promptly. - By the way, who was that guy? "He continues with indifferent air, while already manages  with some cigarette’s  papers  beneath the table in order to arm a joint for the Michelle’s smoke.

- "He's a good customer of mines," replies Michelle, with a strange  air. "He comes from Rotterdam, but he is living from  many years here in London. I met him at Camden Lock where he handles an "stall" of second hand clothing with some of his English members. He’s a bit crazy or at least an original one: he's always stoned as hell, morning to night, because, he says, he believes in smoking, as a flag of peace and brotherhood among young people! "

- "Bullshit," said Giampiero in a caustic tone, "I've met smokers who were total assholes, and I'm not even okay with all the big business that's made of smoke ..."

- "Well, as long as it remains illegal, trade is lucrative; Especially for big dealers who do not even pay taxes on it; It would be enough to legalize it. It almost seems that politicians are afraid of the spread of smoke ...... "- I say to dampen the tone of the discussion between the two.

- "But they do not seem to have the same approach to heroine," Giampiero says, remembering perhaps the lost friends on that street. - " Do you know Michelle what Pino writes from Italy? When the social tension grows, in Italy smoke disappears from the streets and only heroin is found, do you know? But nobody seems to get  to point out that with the heroine they just want to destroy us? Do you light it up? "He asks me in a more relaxed tone, asking me to light the  joint up.

- "It's up to Michelle, really," I say, passing by, after burning its  tip with the lighter.

Martine in the meantime asks Michelle if she understands the topic of the discussion and, after explaining it, says that many rock motion representatives have been mysteriously torn from heroin and thrown down the names of Jimi Hendrix and Jim Morrison.

she also adds that she is concerned about the apparently very close relationship between rock movement, music, artists, fans and drugs, all the drugs, from the lightest to the heaviest and most dangerous ones.

Meanwhile the "joint" goes turning around. The dense buzz in the room is interrupted by laughs and laughter, while a thick smoke hood comes from the floor below to the ceiling, becoming more and more condensed.

While the concert had resumed its rhythm, with some skillful voice variation of the solo voice, I  suddenly realized that my throat is dry and my mouth mingled to the point that almost I cannot speak, while at the same time I notice that our beers were still intact on the table in front of us.

I drink directly from the bottle a long haul of Carlsberg Special Brew. I feel that cool liquid in my mouth, coming down my throat, I mentally follow its way  to the stomach and from there spreading with heat; I think of small rivers when they enter the streams and lakes; from  the great rivers that are slow but inesorable in the seas and seas all connected to the oceans, as a single large stream of energy, wrapped in impenetrable cosmic synergies;  even the conductors of our blood, from the smallest vessels to the largest arteries, converge into a single center; and if our bodies have been pulsating in the air for millennia, interacting through immaterial life-force contacts, sometimes conflicting and opposed but always guided in one direction; if our brain contains our present together with the past, and who knows, perhaps even in the future, then where is the center of the universe? The pulsating heart of humanity? The center of Everything Buddha was looking for in the tortuous paths of the mind?

Was this what my brothers were looking for, fleeing the materialties of the West, on the uncertain paths of the East? But why look for it with the deception of acids, with the illusion of opium? Why with the heroine? And if the East, for millennia has absorbed the devastating blow of opium, the most inexperienced and weak civilization of the West, will survive the shots of its most hallucinating and deadly essences?

Take me away, friends, but guide me, do not miss me, love me, as a father loves his prodding son, because I want a dream of sweet awakening, a hope that leads to truth, a journey that has its return to the origin of life .

34...to be continued...

London for ever - 19

One of these was the "black giant". 

He was a tall, thick Jamaican, always wrapped in a heavy gray coat; he was constantly turning the length of the square, scratching his curly, woolly head, or his back and legs and never saying hello to anyone. 

Once, and it  was the only one, he came up to ask me for an ice cream.

 I served him a cone with some cream on it. He maybe thought  I was expecting the money, because he attacked me with a load of arrogant phrases, in his incomprehensible Jamaican dialect. His eyes were red and swollen. 

After the first series  of insults he gave a tremendous bite to that poor ice cream, swallowing  almost half of it. Then, seeing that I had remained impassive, he still uttered some bad words, with less conviction than before and went away. 

I hoped so much that I never had anything to do again with that energumen, at least  for fear of his undesirables guests. 

But as I saw him, in the distance, resume his scratching all over his body, I realized that there was no danger: the fleas were very fond of him.

19. to be continued...

Someone is smiling somewhere

I apologize in advance with those who voted to leave EU; I know they are the majority, though so  fragile and changeable as politic matters are; nevertheless let me say that the loss of parliamentary seats in the  House of Commons, suffered by the Tories in the last elections, has a meaning that in some way goes against the Brexit; only in some way, I agree, not completely against, for I know even the Labours will be working to manage a definitive leave; of course there is a difference between a hard and reasonable Brexit. 

The gap between the two ways is filled with what is more careable for a left side party: social solidarity; health security; more equal health distribution; public services; social protections for the weak, even if they are continental workers, or simply  foreigner workers.

Democracy, if the word has still a residual meaning, in this society dominated by  financial and multinational powers, means also to give space to different points of view. 

So I still thinking that Great Britain should remain; I still believe European must stick together to face the challenges the world outside is waiting for and UK could play a great role in these challenges on our side. 

I believe it is also on respect of the memory who gave her life to defend the weak, on defending European Union, like MP Joanne  Cox did. 

And I still believe London is forever.

Thank you Lords

It  invites us to a serious reflection the amendment the Lords have inserted in  the Brexit bill in order to protect three millions of EU citizens, working and living in UK, after Artcle 50 is triggered.

What I expected  was to be done by the  House of Commons It has been done instead by the House of Lords.

It is a widespread belief, even abroad, that  Lords are  people of privileges,  living in the past,  insensitive and rich enough to snub all the rest of the world, indifferent to anybody'else problems.

I don't know if that's true.

What I know for sure it's that yesterday 358 (against 256) of them vote an amendment to secure the acquired rights of 3 millions of EU citizens living in UK.

But why such a vote is surprising?

I'll try to answer this question.

In my opinion as the Commoners were afraid  to lose the political consent by the voters, they voted, on both fronts (tories and labs) giving carte blanche to Government on Brexit bill.

The sad truth is that inspite we rant about democracy, a forum of no elected people (The Lords, as matter of fact) remember the world, with their amendment,  the real basis of morality and principles of human rights.

And in times of trumps, lepens and various despots, pushed by blind populism, it's not really a poor thing.

And anyway, I told you  various times that London is forever. 

The supremacy of law

It has not been a surprise the Supreme Court vote on the Brexit affair. At least for those who know the long, noble history of both English legislative and Judicial powers. 

On the other end we all know that between the legislative power (the Parliament) and the executive power (id est the Governement) the first is higher.

The law is to uphold over ministers.

Legally and logically: if the Parliament has delivered the entry of Great Britain in the EU, how could the Governement only think to ride the Country out of it without consulting the Parliament?

Someone may say that the Electorate is much more worth than the same Members of Parliament (who eventually are elected by the Electorate). But in this sick democracy we are liveing  in I'm not sure the Electorate is really free in his thoughts.

I'm thinking, for instance, of press and television's power. 

Papers and television are able to influence the Electorate more than we might think.

And I'm not sure either that another vote, today, would see the Brexit's prevail.

Of course I know that the televisions and the papers are part of the society and if people believe on what they write and say that makes democracy going on.

But let me please rebut that if ten people are able to make twenty millions of electors to think as they want the, to think, then we are not living in a democracy (we are live in a plutocracy or in a mediocracy).

And let me please say another thing: I'm very worried about this secret or evident powers, as far as they in a certain way are allowing politicians dealmakers and warmongers to rule the world who knows where about (I hope they won't lead us in the brink of a precipice).

And for the memory of Jo Cox (and for her bllod spread for European Unity) I hope the British Parliament will reconsider at least the importance of the    single market, the customs union and free movements of goods and people all over Europe (including all the Great Britain).

I respect the will of  the majority of British people, as expressed in the referendum of last June, but I wanted all Britons great with the other Europeans (Italians, French, Germans, Spanish) and not with the NorthAmericans (though I feel sentiments of friendship even with the Americans).

And I don't want see the Europeans making war with each other like in the past.

The Italian Elections' Winner

Expert analysis on TV and on the Web abound, seasoned with endless displays of data: aggregates, disaggregated compounds, compared, projected, filmed and relayed and so on, and so forth.The question, however, in the end,  is only one:  who are the winners?

The question also  includes and involves a central matter: Supposed that is Beppe Grillo's 5 Stars Movement the winnwer, who really are the President Grillo's men?Yet the answer to this fundamental question, that experts can not or do not want to see, is very simple: take the votes lost by the Democratic Party, by the Berlusconi's  Party, by the Northern League and by  the Communists and you'll get exactly the percentage representation of this great result made by the  Grillo's people ( we call them "Grillini" hencefor).Go to any site, take any newspaper and  do this reckoning I have suggested;  the result can change by a few decimal but the essence is that M5S have  intercepted all unhappy voters in Italy.They are nothing more than the Italians tired of being exposed  to the arrogance and privileges of caste; they  are all former members of the Northern League, Berlusconi repentant, enlightened Communist  and DiPietro disenchanted. The Grillini are the new Italy: Italy of the old parties is now dead.I hope  not to see, from tomorrow,  on the political scene rotting skeletons, locked in a mephitic embrac , dancing surreal tangos of death.I hope instead that  some elegant man of noble sentiments, has the intelligence  and public sensitivity to invite these Grillini to dance the New Dawn Dance, on whose notes to rebuild this poor Italy plagued by a disrespectful , greedy and arrogant political caste which has so far been unable to see the tsunami that 'has overwhelmed and that threatens to engulf Italy.Best wishes to President Napolitano and  to the newly elected members of the Parliament.May  Lord guide their political action.

God Bless ItalyLong live Italy.