Home is where the heart is. I have taken over the armoire in our room, creating a wardrobe with Luigi’s internal organs and a pantry shelf of groceries. I put some love into this little closet, therefore creating a “moved-in” effect… Whatever works? Kate lent me some earplugs (don’t worry, they’re new) so I slept like a sloth last night. Some peeps went to the Roman market, others went to the Vatican to give the Pope a Hi-5, but I took a long run down the Tiber to the Colosseum. Running in cities has become my new favorite thing, especially along the rivers that constantly flow through the bustling metropolis… I love jammin’ with my headphones and an open mind. I felt good in a tank top and shorts and picked a hill to run/crawl up… I could hear ex-coaches screaming, “Pick up your knees Connolly!” Not only was I out of breath by the top, but I had my breath taken away. I realized that I had reached Palantine Hill and there in front of me, haulting my stride, rested the Colosseum. THE COLOSSEUM. You know, that stadium that has survived 2,000 years worth of earthquakes, fires and pillaging galore? The place that retains thousands of gladiator and wild animal’s souls who fought to their deaths in front of epic crowds… The place where America’s Next Top Model did a photo-shoot for Solstice Sunglasses- OMG. I may have to come back for the 2020 Olympics to get the full effect… I ran down through the Forum to Capitoline Hill and back around the Colosseum through hoards of tourists. How is it possible to keep getting “one-upped” each day? Just when I think nothing can top Ninja Turtles, the Colosseum has to fluff its feathers and show off. I am IN the moment in The Eternal City…
Today was our free day but “JC” or “Conga’” (Jeff Conger, professor #2) and “Harvetron” took a few of us to the Museo de Arte Contempranea Roma… the museum where only the crazies can show off their shit… literally. I wish I had never seen a cool Contemporary Museum, because now I hope and pray that the next will be just as stellar, but I have been miserably let down… HOW is spreading one’s own fecal matter all over paper, with one’s own hand, qualify as beautiful? That means every infant in the world is an artist! I want to hide inside the mind of a crazy person… like “Beverly” whom we passed on the Bus #38. Head-to-toe purple velour, nappy dreads twisted into a turban on her peculiar russet head, leading a suitcase around like a Shetland pony. She was laughing, crying, yelling and arguing with Casper and her suitcase- which I can relate to since Luigi tends to rub me the wrong way. It was bizarre. Our B.O. receptacle a.k.a. bus nearly made a pancake out of her… “Harvetron” realized we were on the wrong bus and needed a cappuccino, so we bailed at “Hector the Collector’s” digs… homeless homie had garbage bags piled into a fort. How many found objects does it take to make a happy home? He was FULL of needless information concerning the bus system in general and "Laws of Attraction between Amphetmines and The Alphabet. Crack kills man… ass crack and mass crack. “The Harv” drug us into ANOTHER church (I know it’s Sunday, but really?) and as I drifted in, sulking with the pigeons, I was AWESTRUCK. Bernini, you little devil you! “The Ecstasy of St. Teresa” is only THE sculptural masterpiece of the High Roman Baroque… striking body language (tense toes) with somewhat mysterious grins. The two "show stoppers" are flanked by theater boxes holding members of the Cornaro family looking on in anticipation… short story long:
“I saw in his hand a long spear of gold, and at the iron's point there seemed to be a little fire. He appeared to me to be thrusting it at times into my heart, and to pierce my very entrails; when he drew it out, he seemed to draw them out also, and to leave me all on fire with a great love of God. The pain was so great, that it made me moan; and yet so surpassing was the sweetness of this excessive pain, that I could not wish to be rid of it. The soul is satisfied now with nothing less than God. The pain is not bodily, but spiritual; though the body has its share in it. It is a caressing of love so sweet which now takes place between the soul and God, that I pray God of His goodness to make him experience it who may think that I am lying.”
The pain is so great, she doesn’t want him to stop. A lot of art historians are convinced she is experiencing the big “O”… ‘nuf said. Padre was selling some boozen’remedies in the back… I gave in to homemade orange honey (Peanut butter, honey and banana sandos...I know, right?) and some 90% alcohol digestive tincture (that’d be 180 proof). Dose responsibly! Hopefully it helps the tum-tum… or I’ll be dead, problem’s solved one way or another.
No comments:
Post a Comment
Note: Only a member of this blog may post a comment.