This body is growing hard and stale

rotting from the inside out

stinking of the fish

I've had to fill it with

Wanting desperately to be fished

out of the gaping river

swelling mountains.

This body has become the river

and the fish

and the slime and rotten wood

that sink to the bottom.

It is the rocks that the damned tourists

use to cross.

It's the ice

slapped on the top

keeping the muck from

stinking up the village.

The water is in my eyeballs

and always in my bladder

I can't seem to get rid of it

constantly pushing its way out

yearning, smashing against the banks

against the outside of this corspe

A swollen bloated body

with a putrid stentch

stinking up my river

my body

How do I fish a body

out of my body?

How can I rid it of stagnent

waters and force the spring?

A few things

Since living in Italy I've started marking my books with old dollar bills, ones that had stowed away on this trip in pants and jacket pockets unnoticed. Maybe I'm doing it to remind myself that gobbling down these books is worth something, maybe not at this moment, just like this dollar is worthless in this moment. But at some point I'll go back to the US, maybe not for good, but at some point I'll go back. So maybe all these English words aren't doing me much good at the moment but sometime (maybe in the near future) they'll serve me.

Also I've recently become aware of how many Italian men are inviting themselves to my bed. I know I often complain that American boys are too shy, but this seems to be crossing some sort of line. Maybe it wouldn't seem so strange if they were inviting me to sleep in their beds, but I've never had someone invite themself to my bed. Is this some sort of cultural characteristic I'm not aware of? It doesn't seem to matter that I live in a house with 7 other people and privacy is practically nonexistant. Maybe that is part of the draw, maybe I'm attracting an unusual amount of exhibitionists...Oh the Italians, what's a girl to do except take several lovers and learn how to desire and be desired and equally important be fulfilled in all that desire.

exhaustion

Absolute exhaustion, my hand can barely hold the pen, it aches with every other part of my body. The cycle in Prali continues -- shovel snow all day, eat whatever you can, drink Genipi. Right now I think I"m too tired tto complete the last two parts. I shoveled snow all day and the thought of finding food or making it to the village to drink Genipi is even more exhausting. I'm almost to tired to sleep. I tried to lay down this afternoon for a bit and could only manage and hour or so of fitfull sleep filled with dreams that wouldn't let me rest.

A list

A list we compiled last night at the pub...

Things most discussed in Prali (winter)

1. Food
2. Genipi
3. Snow
4. Avalanche
5. Trees inside of an avalanche
6. Wolves

Things most discussed in Prali (summer)

1. Food
2. Genipi
3. The effects of Genipi
4. Snow from last winter
5. Snow for next winter
6. Wolves

I'm quite sure that the drinkin of Genipi led to the construction of this list but it's true nonetheless.

I feel like all I can write about is the snow. It's relentless and beautiful. The rumble of avalanches fills the valley...all night, throughout the afternoon. The roads are closed, school cancelled, there is no hope of anyone comeing into or leaving the village before Wed and even that looks doubtful. Fra, Jaouad, and Corinne are stranded in various places, which leaves me, Davide, J, and Marianna (the new resident from Uruguay). All goes on as usual. This morning it took the entirety of the morning to clear a sliver of a path from here to the center. The snow is up to my shoulders. This afternoon Davide and J were jumping from the ballcony of the belltower into the ocean of snow below. Fortunately it isn't too cold, on -1 or 2. We're warm and cozy in the house, fireplace crackling, cat napping on the couch...
I remember I time I complained at the thought of moving to Madison because the weather was so foul. Now it seems like a short winter of only 5 months. But despite the incredible about of snow life is still rather pleasant. No intense wind, no bitter cold (at least for now) and fortunately I don't have to make a commute to work. I suppose there are some advantages to living and working in the same place.
Oh how easily we forget the summer. The heat of the sun quickly turns into the heat from the fire. Long nights of parties and dancing simply slip into long dark nights. Summer romances turn into winter cuddle buddies. And when June rolls around these things will once again merge into each other and we will forget the worries of winter, of snow and shovels, the laugher of sled riding in the stree and live fully into the sun and the ability to wear only one pair of clothes. How this life slips one season into the next without anyone noticing until we are in the middle of the next. I suppose the seasons of life and of the year are on in the same...

I sleep under a palm

in a forest of pines

and I know that time will teach me

all I need to know,

let me be possessed

as I pine

While I dress for an expedition

in my bed

under a flock of geese

and a coop of chickens

On Being Known

"Mostly what people want is to feel known" -- Nicole Krauss A Man Walks Into a Room

Do I want a love that is the merging of two souls into one, the same way two bodies glide together in the cover of night. Do I want my soul to gently absorb that of another at the some moment mine is being raptured into a secondary existance? Or do I simply want to be known, known intensely and fully, but known nonetheless...

A little off subject

I know that this blog is generally a bit more poetic than the one I keep for my family, filled with private thoughts, and shared with only a few. But, I just can't resist sharing this. So a few weeks ago my father asked me what I would like to have in my Christmas package and seeing as we'd be having temps around -13 the only things I could think of were long under wear and base layer type clothing to try to keep some heat in this body of mine. The next logical question of my father's was "what size" I thought "hmmm I'm tall, let's say a large just to be sure they're long enough." Well earler this week my Christmas package arrived and since it was absolutely freezing and everything inside the box has to be written on the customs form I thought I would go ahead and open it. Inside among a number of useful things I found a pair of old school waffle style long underwear. Needless to say I was pretty pumped about this. However I thought it a bit strange that there was a picture of a man on the front of the package. Upon turning it over I realized that my father thought it a good idea to purchase me a pair of MENS large long underwear. Now I know that I gained a few pounds while living here for the first few months but never in my life have I been in need of a pair of pants that would fit a 38-42 waist.

But I thought "hey they're elastic right, they might be able to fit" That was until I noticed the enormous pouch in the front of these pants.

My friend Francesca suggested we run to the grocery to buy a bunch of bananas to fill it with, but reason got the better of us and we decided against it. However I would like to know at what point my father thought I was a rather large man with a huge package and that this would be an appropriate gift...