(«At last, he rewrote the intro!»)
You might be here by chance, but you probably know me and I gave you the link in some cunning way («Please visit my website, please!»).
I’ll make this short: sometimes I write stuff and put it here, the older that is, the more ashamed I am someone might actually read it. I don’t remove anything because one cannot simply delete things, it isn’t nice.
If you want to know who I am (in form of myth and hagiography) there’s a page for that too, just like there’s a page to write me.
What are you still doing here? Go!
If, as your ex puts it, you’re so “lame-o” to be single, any decent screenwriter will tell you it’s because: More »
And so somebody broke up with you just after (or before, or during) Valentine’s day?
I bet it was like a movie scene too, at the underground station (it isn’t the Gare de Lyon, but close enough), a part of your life leaving with the train, if only Wes Anderson was there to say CUT (we’re cool like that, aren’t we?).
What to do now? You’re asking me?
There are plenty of fish in the sea, as far as I care you can date yourself a tuna! I’ll tell you what you shouldn’t do. More »
«Τί γάρ; Πᾶς ἔρως ὁ ἔρως;»
This would say Socrates if he wanted to start an article on the topic we’ll consider.
Is every love love? More »
You all know that we’re super excited about the fund-raising for our conference on homophobia.
And since funds do not raise themselves, someone must dress himself all elegant, like a Bible seller / Jehovah witness, and go around moving people and opening their wallets.
So here I am Sunday morning in suit, tie, tiepin and fedora (and other pieces of clothing indispensable not to get arrested for indecent exposure but that one needn’t to list) deciding to enter whatever church I can find on my way back home, trying to move some vicar to compassion. More »
Experiment: go to the 1920s, take a tram, say out loud:«We spent the night together!». Watch the reaction.
Go back to present day, on a bus, shout:«Yes, we had wild sex, with handcuffs». No reaction, except the two nuns.
That’s it, isn’t it? If we speak scandal at the very best we give a fat reverend a stroke, it’s a nice manslaughter, but ordinary people don’t care. More »
Three kind of people go to a photography exhibition: those who stay 15 minutes in front of each photo, and then can tell you exposure time ISO and printing method, the ones who see a poster in the street and say: “Oh, a Doisneau exhibition, whoever he is I want to see that”, and people who follow the aforementioned hoping to find a (soul)mate.
That’s why the three of us wrote this review of Paris en Liberté (at Palazzo delle Esposizioni, Rome) together. More »
The first time I saw him he was in Piazza di Spagna. He wore a hand-made tunic, old sheets held together by string.
«Repent daughters and sons, let ye not look for answers in the phone directory More »