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 - 33

Between a song  and another there is a storm: applauses, whistlings, screamings, pounding noises, cans beaten on the table: a triumph of approval and happiness. From time to time, after about an hour of good rock-blues music, while the hippie from the headband and the pink t-shirt continues to split the air increasingly denser with smokes and smell, a reddish basset with a messy beard approaches Giampiero. They talk for a while, whispering in a low voice.

"What did he want?" Martine inquires.

- "He asked me if I wanted mushrooms ..." - replies Giampiero

- "Mushrooms ??? How could you want  mushrooms! "- interviews Martine -" What makes one with them in here, at this time? "

- "The sauce, of course!" - Michelle intervenes, who knows well what those mushrooms are for. And at this same moment, her gaze sets on a guy sitting in the middle of a separet, not far from us. I have already noticed the man from my point of view: on his table there is an indefinite number of blue cans and a continuous go-go characterizes the "entourage". He is a red-headed guy, full of fine lines, light-skinned, freckled complexion.

- "Marcus! Hey, Marcus! "Michelle exclaims at his address, drawing for his attention with her right raised arm.

The guy turns slowly, hiding his badness, in fact, pretending, just as badly, his indifference; but when he recognizes Michelle's face he lights up suddenly.

He gets up and comes to us. It's high and  athletic! He greets everyone with a jovial "hello", smiling on the little yellow teeth, though small and regular. He is now in touch with Michelle, after kissing affectionately, like two old friends, in great confidence.

There is a subtle and mysterious feeling between the two, and also Giampiero realizes that, as he speaks with me about the political situation in Italy, I do not know which government, presided by who knows what prime minister, once again fallen, ingloriously, in Parliament, he looks at each other, never losing sight of them, trying to grasp what they are saying. His looks of jealousy remind me of rumors about their crisis.

33. to be continued...

To Brexit or not to Brexit - 2

I want to spend a few words in favour of British people, whatever might be the decision on Brexit (it seems yes, since now, but you never know).
That's a decision who is up on British governement and I'll respect it, whatever it might be.
British people are good people. I know English people more than Irish and more than Scottish, even more than Welsh people. And I'm sure that English people are good people.
If some of them have thought to go out of European Union they might have good reasons.
British people are not selfish people; but they are not silly nor stupid.
May be they are simply fed up with this kind of European Union. And so am I.
Of course I would be glad if Great Britain would stay with us to fight against European burocracy in order to change EU.
I still remain a believer in European Union, I mean in the Union of all European people to be happier and whealthier together. I feel all the European people are brothers and they must increase this brotherhood creating a common market, a common governement and sharing a unique flag without renouncing to their peculiarity and their identity.
I dream of the United State of Europe with the United Kingdom, that means with English, Welsh, Scottish and irish people.
I have this dream and I'm not going to give it up.

London for ever - 32

- "This is really hell! But where have  you brought us? "Jokes Giampiero, trying to slip the crowd.

- "You're an arthropod elephant!" I cut him in the same joking tone.

Michelle nods provocatively, ironizing, as she has done for some time, on his ever massive mole. It's a bit of time I know these arrows between the two, so much that I seemed to be the symptom of an embryo crisis. But that must not be so. You do not schedule a return together if the couple  does not work anymore. Or maybe you do it? As a matter of fact it could be  just an "escamotage" to overcome the problems, to postpone them, not to see them, trying to solve them by the passage of time; a psychological alibi like to blame the environmental problems in London, the lack of children, the precariousness of work, or who knows what else.

- "Did you succeeded on let her talking  to her for a bit?" - Michelle asks me looking at Martine and settling on the wide-lined sofa.

- "She has not been silent for a moment since you left us alone!"

We sneeze for a long time. Adding our laughter to the innumerable and indistinct of the various rooms in the room. Suddenly, like magically, the auditory circuits detach themselves and suddenly silence is gone. There are only a few guitar chords, and without any notice, everyone is silent. The "clou" of the evening begins. The audience keeps a religious, collected, mystical silence. Everyone follows the concert in his own way. Who dreams, who beats the rhythm with one foot in an improvised and unlikely solfeggio; Who tapping his fingers somewhere and who shaking his head; But everyone is lost in music and in total recollection. The concert begins  with a solo music track: the rhythmic base of bass and drums blends with the "riffs" of the solo guitar, while the accompaniment blends everything up. Then the singer enters with his loud, humorous voice telling the classic blues themes, but in the form of rock, creating a good mix of music.

The singer now alternates singing with the accordion, while the other musicians show that they can also play the saxophone and the violin: I travel with the mind along endless freeways, from one side to the other of the American coast; I see the sun rise and I see it setting down; I cry for time, women and friends who will never return. Sax, violin and solo guitar speak with charm; the harmonica, laughing, daring and sublime, touches the most striking strings of the soul.

32. to be continued...

To exit or no to exit

Yesterday, half a million  people, marched  in London against the Brexit.
I've already written in this blog what I think of this theme.
I love all UK, its people, its multinational culture, its different, strong tradition whatever they might decide to do on Brexit. Even if  they would be out of EU I would keep on loving and respecting their great democracy and their great Country.
Nevertheless I  hope that Great Britain remains in the European Union.
We need them as well as they need us to be together.
United Kingdom, English, Scottish and Irish people are part of Europe.
The European, different people, like English, French, Spanish, Italians, Germans, Danish and all the others, are like those cousins which have a common inheritance to share: it's better to find an agreement and keep on together.
We have already fight too much to conquer and manage on our own, exluding the others, the whole inheritance and it has been a disaster.
Who does not remember the cruel wars the ones against the others? How many have them been? I cannot even count them out since the Roman Empire has collapsed, almost sixteen centuries ago.
That's enough my  European friend.
I want we to stay together, with our differences, with our peculiarities, defending our own culture but sharing our friendship, building a new great Country to face the new millennial challenges against the giants of the world (I don't only mean USA, but also China, India and the others emergeing, dangerous  powers).
And I can't forget the sweet face of Helen Joanne Cox who has died for the European dream to be true.
Please, don't let her blood sacrifice be useless.
I embrace you, brothers of Albion. Do what you think is better for you but don't forget that together we'll be stronger. Europe is strong if we keep together though someone would prefer to split us.
The good things to joint are much more than those to break up.
And London is for ever, anyway.

London for ever - 31

In the entrance, as we walked through the narrow corridor toward the large ground floor hall, I noticed in the backlight a bit of  smoke coming out, along with a soft but intense hustle of animation. The room had in the meantime been filled. Among the fans, as announced by the outdoor parking, there were numerous "motorcycle-rockers", also called "speedies" due to the frequent use of amphetamines, which they preferred among all drugs then in circulation for the particular charge they give them.  They were sold in slippers similar to cachet for the headache and nicknamed in London jargon "speeds". Their typical clothing consisted of robust boots, jeans, short-sleeved cotton t-shirt, and a jacket, also in black leather jeans, usually covered on the shoulders of small truncated-conical metal studs . Not so often, this eccentric clothing, coupled with their high stature, the black beards on which even longer blond hair lay apart, conferred on them  an aspect of metropolitan Vikings.

Nonetheless, these were quitter and more  peaceful than  the most colorful and folkloristic "punks" who  began to show themselves in  the second half  of the '70s, shocking with their appearances the London streets.

Even in the hall, the sight  had changed: a lot of young people were now knocking at the billboards, behind which many young barmaids were very busy  running  from one point to the other in the long counter, satisfying quickly the various requests of the many enthusiasts consumers.

Around the platform, now illuminated, with the musicians already on the stage giving the final touches to the instruments, sat in a semicircle a discreet crowd who was  waiting the music to start laughing and cheerfully joking between a sip of beer and a smoky.

Between the counter and the platform, in the middle of the room, other players had gone to the billiards and were playing  under the gaze of friends and enthusiasts. Above the pedestal, in the right wall, were now visible the sofas I had not noticed before.

I directed my friends straightly to the first floor through the large staircases that were already filled up with spectators, almost a natural queue of that crowd gathered around the footpath. Numerous compartment tables had been busy, and large shelves of beer and drinks could be  noticed up on theim.

Giampiero immediately understood the situation and thought well, followed by Michelle, to go back after asking what we intended to drink. We had seats at the end of the sofa at the back. From my place I saw a nice portion of the footpath, where an athletic  man wearing a black, adorable tights, with long and black hair ending in a thick tail, tried  the efficiency of the sound system with style cries of proof .

"How long have you been  staying  in London?" I asked Martine.

We took sit  on one of the dark circular stools that were scattered around the tables.

"Four months," she replied after a half-voice mumbled count, pulling out of the bag of strange, thin cigarettes from a brown and crumpled package.

- "And what are you doing, right here in London?" I insisted, looking at her as she whispered a voluptuous mouthful from  her strange cigarette.

- "I started a new job two weeks ago; I distribute female magazines at the Metro exit, but I hope to find something better; Also because, working twice a week, I do not earn enough, do you understand? "

"Do not worry," I replied half  serious and facet, in order to shed the sad and worry air that, as I later understood, was a mirror of her most intimate being, rather than a momentary mood .. "" You can join the great family of the street-traders and this should not make you feel alone, at least! "

- "But I do not feel alone at all!" She protested, always with her melancholy face.

- "You don’t miss Paris, then?"

"Certainly I don’t," Martine said in a convinced tone of voice- "I've run away from a boring job as a secretary; My parents are Baptists who observe and pretend to observe strict rules of life; Moreover, I had a boyfriend  who wanted to dominate me so bravely and possessively as never before. You know why I cannot have any kind of  nostalgia .......... "

- "How did you first arrive in London? - I asked her again after pointing to a distant guy who seemed to have come out straightly from the "Woodstock" movie, with a wide band that held her long hair and with numerous necklaces hanging on his neck on a pink shirt and a hallucinated look, fixed in vacuity while turning his hands open, slowly, as in trance, following with  the movements of his body, a music that only he had to hear.

Martine laughed, hiding her mouth with her hand before answering.

- "I turned to an au pair agency, and so I came to the airport. A family of teachers with two children, home in the greenery, at North Finchley, on the Northern Line, do you know? I had to work for  six days a week with them  always out and I at home watching children and eating, or rather not eating, the impossible English food. I  could go out only once a week and I had to come back early in the evening, before midnight.  Even  worse than my parents. Not to mention that I also had to clean the room and the stuff of the children! All for a wage of nine pounds a week. My friend Michelle got me out of  troubles ............ "

As evoked by Martine's tale Michelle appears from afar. Launches a festive cry, cuts the crowd  for herself and for Giampiero who  looks like an eight-handed equilibrist, a sort of goddess Kali. I try to help  Giampiero. I can get some bottles he  holds under his arms; he smiles to me on his  flaming face.

31. to be continued...

London for ever - 30

And he really came right away; The time to browse distractedly some magazines under the reddened and careful eyes of the owner of the shop, a middle-aged Pakistani, with big, fleshy cheeks.

- "Hello!" Giampiero motioned to me as he came in sight, just  outside  the underground exit barrier. Even Michelle, who I already knew, greeted me with her hand in the air. They then presented me to Martine, a not very tall but nice girl who was wearing jeans on an embroidered white blouse, white-green "Adidas" shoes, and a blue ribbon at the front that caught her short-cut brown hair. She made a smile on his teeth a little irregularly, just pronouncing  "hello!" ,  with a hand holding his coat on his shoulders and the fingers of the other hand slipped into the pocket of his jeans with the only thumb outside. Soon after I asked Giampiero for news of Tommy that I had not seen for a while.

- "No, it's a long time  I do not see Tommaso; The last time he came to see us with his  girlfriend, but he was really down! "

-" Oh yeah! Major decisions are being made; Maybe he goes down to Italy, "I said in a lazy, humorous tone.

- "It’s no such a great a decision!  I've already made the same  decision!" – he said in a great tone of self importance. - "Didn’t you know the news?" He continued, stopping the march, astonished by my own surprise. - "I have recently contacted Italian executives of our firm; They seem to be looking to open a representative office right in Genoa, in my city, and they are looking for people who are expert and trustworthy to speak English well to widen the network of contacts and then .......... "

- "Hey! Really high points, then. You may also become a 'Big Boss'! - I told him, knocking his shoulders.

- "But, I do not even know if I may  like it. I need to change air, this is it! It's a life I'm here in London and I think my trip is over. And did not you ever have the idea of ​​having a son? "

"What has  to do a son with your moving from London?" I interjected, resuming the path she had interrupted another time. - "You can also do the baby here if you want."

- "No! It would not be the same. In this city there is too much chaos. It is not the ideal environment: with all this racism that there is still, violence, smog, do you understand? And I need another situation; Even Michelle would enjoy  changing  to Italy....... "

He turned instinctively backwards and saw Michelle and Martine talking, very close, arm in arm.

- "What are these secrets?" Giampiero asked.

"Nothing that matters to you," Michelle said with her air, at the same time naughty and naive.

Meanwhile, we had come near the pub that stood on the corner of two streets; In front of the right side, the extreme border of a small square delimited a large parking lot for motorcycles where there were now a large number of parked vehicles; Motorcycles of all cylinders, brands and colors, with a prevalence of midrange Triumph and Honda red and blue.

30. to be continued...