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	<title>Port of Saints</title>
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	<link>http://www.portofsaints.org</link>
	<description>befrij dit rovhul</description>
	<pubDate>Sat, 04 Sep 2010 09:18:59 +0000</pubDate>
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		<title>A day in the wilderness</title>
		<link>http://www.portofsaints.org/?p=101</link>
		<comments>http://www.portofsaints.org/?p=101#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Sat, 04 Sep 2010 09:18:27 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Santo</dc:creator>
		
		<category><![CDATA[Diario]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://www.portofsaints.org/?p=101</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[I am picking flowers as I realize it&#8217;s full of giant red poppies. And I think how funny it is to find poppies in September. In italy they only blossom in May. So I pick a lot of them and will surely put them in a vase in this little but sweet countryhouse. I collect [...]]]></description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p>I am picking flowers as I realize it&#8217;s full of giant red poppies. And I think how funny it is to find poppies in September. In italy they only blossom in May. So I pick a lot of them and will surely put them in a vase in this little but sweet countryhouse. I collect paintings from my old and lost friend Lelio, and hang them to the walls. It&#8217;s a very bright and sunny dream. I must have been heavily influenced by a movie I saw yesterday at the Tate Modern, where a woman picks up a flower and follows a mysterious caped figure with a mirror in the place of his face up to a small house , she falls asleep and then all sorts of odd things will happen.</p>
<p>Oh yes was at the Tate Modern, saw again Bacon&#8217;s stuff , had a sandwich sitting on the terrace. It was lovely. At night I had an ALL MEAT dinner.</p>
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			<wfw:commentRss>http://www.portofsaints.org/?feed=rss2&amp;p=101</wfw:commentRss>
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		<item>
		<title>Thunder clouds in a corner of the sky</title>
		<link>http://www.portofsaints.org/?p=100</link>
		<comments>http://www.portofsaints.org/?p=100#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Fri, 03 Sep 2010 08:22:48 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Santo</dc:creator>
		
		<category><![CDATA[Diario]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://www.portofsaints.org/?p=100</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[I am kissing three cute young guys in a kind of amorous quartetto. Woke up with a sense of peace and maybe a smile.
]]></description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p>I am kissing three cute young guys in a kind of amorous quartetto. Woke up with a sense of peace and maybe a smile.</p>
]]></content:encoded>
			<wfw:commentRss>http://www.portofsaints.org/?feed=rss2&amp;p=100</wfw:commentRss>
		</item>
		<item>
		<title>walking these streets</title>
		<link>http://www.portofsaints.org/?p=99</link>
		<comments>http://www.portofsaints.org/?p=99#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Thu, 02 Sep 2010 21:27:32 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Santo</dc:creator>
		
		<category><![CDATA[Diario]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://www.portofsaints.org/?p=99</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[Can&#8217;t even get near to describe how beautiful this place is. But what&#8217;s more striking is the handsomeness of guys. I am in distress , it may be the perfume of one&#8217;s skin, it might be their shape, their eyes , whatever. I am at a loss trying to cope with my desire. And at [...]]]></description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p>Can&#8217;t even get near to describe how beautiful this place is. But what&#8217;s more striking is the handsomeness of guys. I am in distress , it may be the perfume of one&#8217;s skin, it might be their shape, their eyes , whatever. I am at a loss trying to cope with my desire. And at the same time I have to deal with memories of you, Jamie. And the sad, grieving , sore, wound in my heart that keeps on bleeding whenever I think of you. You really took it all away from me. All that I wanted to be, all things I believed in. Fuck I can&#8217;t even get into a Maplin Shop anymore without thinking of you, of the geeky things we used to say or do.  And another thought is present, often enough : I am getting old. I have seen these kids , hand in hand, looking at each other with loving glances. This I recognize, I will never be able to get. The time is gone, the train has passed, I am well past my expiry date. Funnily enough the only warm social interaction I had today was this thirtyfivish/fortyish woman who passed by, at the restaurant, &#8220;Love,&#8221; she said, &#8220;you&#8217;ve left all your cake!&#8221; then she smiled and pressed her cheek on mine, sketching a kiss and said &#8220;You&#8217;re as sweet as a dessert&#8221;.</p>
<p>Fuck off Jamie, I hope you suffer as much as I do.</p>
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			<wfw:commentRss>http://www.portofsaints.org/?feed=rss2&amp;p=99</wfw:commentRss>
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		<title>Freshly baked</title>
		<link>http://www.portofsaints.org/?p=98</link>
		<comments>http://www.portofsaints.org/?p=98#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Wed, 25 Aug 2010 01:06:00 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Santo</dc:creator>
		
		<category><![CDATA[Diario]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://www.portofsaints.org/?p=98</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[Sono in un vecchio palazzo (che potrebbe essere anche l&#8217;albergo in cui sono stasera) . Aspetto sul pianerottolo qualcuno o qualcosa. Guardo fuori dalla finestra e vedo della gente in strada.
Questi salgono le scale , e sento che arrivano fino al piano di sotto, dove so che abita Filippo. Lui li fa entrare.
Sento odore di [...]]]></description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p>Sono in un vecchio palazzo (che potrebbe essere anche l&#8217;albergo in cui sono stasera) . Aspetto sul pianerottolo qualcuno o qualcosa. Guardo fuori dalla finestra e vedo della gente in strada.<br />
Questi salgono le scale , e sento che arrivano fino al piano di sotto, dove so che abita Filippo. Lui li fa entrare.<br />
Sento odore di dopobarba cheap. So che faranno sesso. Mi ritiro nella mia stanza con un senso di desolazione.</p>
<p>Sono a casa dei miei genitori. Hanno messo un piccolo scendiletto peloso nella mia vecchia stanza. Mi accorgo che non è uno scendiletto. E&#8217; un animale, malamente avvolto in degli stracci. Chiedo spiegazioni a mia madre. Mi dice che è un cane che aveva portato mio fratello ma di cui mio fratello non si è mai preso cura. Mi avvicino all&#8217;animale che si ritrae con un guaito. Capisco che la bestiola è spaventatissima e deve provare dolore. Passo diverso tempo a cercare di accarezzarla per darle un po&#8217; di conforto. Finalmente si lascia prendere in braccio. Lo libero dagli stracci e , orrore , il cagnolino sembra vittima di una terribile micosi, è tutto praticamente ammuffito e mezzo mangiato. Vado da mia madre a chiedere cosa diavolo hanno fatto a questo povero cane, mi sento oltraggiato, è inammissibile che si possa fare del male a una piccola bestiolina così. Porto la bestiolina in un altra stanza e le preparo un piccolo bagnetto. Lo poso per terra e vedo che l&#8217;animale guaisce e mugola ai miei piedi come se volesse attirare la mia attenzione. Di colpo si sposta e raggiunge un&#8217;angolo della mia stanza , quello più al buio. E sento che piange. E io lo raggiungo e cerco di capire cosa ci sia lì e gli chiedo &#8220;Che c&#8217;è lì? Che c&#8217;è li? Che c&#8217;è li?&#8221; senso di terrore e di disperazione mentre mi sveglio piagnucolando.</p>
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		<item>
		<title>The pit of beauty</title>
		<link>http://www.portofsaints.org/?p=97</link>
		<comments>http://www.portofsaints.org/?p=97#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Tue, 24 Aug 2010 12:20:50 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Santo</dc:creator>
		
		<category><![CDATA[Diario]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://www.portofsaints.org/?p=97</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[Unpredictable as the weather, traces of beauty flow by, in a boy&#8217;s smile, in the moon&#8217;s full face, in a star that keeps me company as I sleep. London Lone Dawn
]]></description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p>Unpredictable as the weather, traces of beauty flow by, in a boy&#8217;s smile, in the moon&#8217;s full face, in a star that keeps me company as I sleep. London Lone Dawn</p>
]]></content:encoded>
			<wfw:commentRss>http://www.portofsaints.org/?feed=rss2&amp;p=97</wfw:commentRss>
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		<item>
		<title>It&#8217;s lost a beat or two, but it works</title>
		<link>http://www.portofsaints.org/?p=96</link>
		<comments>http://www.portofsaints.org/?p=96#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Sun, 15 Aug 2010 10:24:50 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Santo</dc:creator>
		
		<category><![CDATA[Diario]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://www.portofsaints.org/?p=96</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[Well anyway I&#8217;m back home after my recent trip to BCN. At first it was much like &#8216;I am the viewer of a giant aquarium, and I am indifferent to the fate of these fish&#8217;, but later, thanks to a person I met it became more like a real vacation. I must say thank you [...]]]></description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p>Well anyway I&#8217;m back home after my recent trip to BCN. At first it was much like &#8216;I am the viewer of a giant aquarium, and I am indifferent to the fate of these fish&#8217;, but later, thanks to a person I met it became more like a real vacation. I must say thank you , Jurko , you saved my holiday and I understood that, despite the damage, my heart is still fully working and willing to live. Oh yeyè!  Big Smile</p>
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			<wfw:commentRss>http://www.portofsaints.org/?feed=rss2&amp;p=96</wfw:commentRss>
		</item>
		<item>
		<title>the lack of you makes me anti-social</title>
		<link>http://www.portofsaints.org/?p=95</link>
		<comments>http://www.portofsaints.org/?p=95#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Wed, 11 Aug 2010 15:54:00 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Santo</dc:creator>
		
		<category><![CDATA[Diario]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://www.portofsaints.org/?p=95</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[I don&#8217;t know, maybe it&#8217;s that or something else, but I can&#8217;t really seem to be able to connect with people. I am spending days of silence, lost in the magma of my mind.
]]></description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p>I don&#8217;t know, maybe it&#8217;s that or something else, but I can&#8217;t really seem to be able to connect with people. I am spending days of silence, lost in the magma of my mind.</p>
]]></content:encoded>
			<wfw:commentRss>http://www.portofsaints.org/?feed=rss2&amp;p=95</wfw:commentRss>
		</item>
		<item>
		<title>Underwater (Barcelona)</title>
		<link>http://www.portofsaints.org/?p=94</link>
		<comments>http://www.portofsaints.org/?p=94#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Tue, 10 Aug 2010 22:15:20 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Santo</dc:creator>
		
		<category><![CDATA[Diario]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://www.portofsaints.org/?p=94</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[
It&#8217;s night and I am sitting on a bench, in Plaza de Catalunya. These indian guys shoot some sort of blue thingie in the sky and it comes down slowly, like a helicopter, like a jelly fish. If that&#8217;s jelly fish then we are underwater. I&#8217;ve had some tasty and healthy dinner (compared to the [...]]]></description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p><img src="http://www.orangesmile.com/destinations/barcelona/img/barcelona-plaza-catalunya.jpg" alt="Plaza de Catalunya" /></p>
<p>It&#8217;s night and I am sitting on a bench, in Plaza de Catalunya. These indian guys shoot some sort of blue thingie in the sky and it comes down slowly, like a helicopter, like a jelly fish. If that&#8217;s jelly fish then we are underwater. I&#8217;ve had some tasty and healthy dinner (compared to the fried hell I had last night which would make me turn and twist in the night, like a severed worm). Even though at times I have the impression that the ghost of James is still walking at my side, on average I am quite deep into my own thoughts, as if I am traveling within myself. I think the only words I have exchanged have been &#8216; por favor / gracias&#8217; and the like, for the whole day. I am keeping well away from other humans. I am avoiding the gay nonsense especially, but seems to be impossible here. Fuck off you, your tight shirts, your gym-made muscles and and your american accent. Stay away from me.</p>
<p>The indian guy comes back with something in a bag. They sell beers in the square. I look at him and say &#8216; no gracias&#8217;. It&#8217;s late, if I don&#8217;t get lost in the tube again, I am bound to the hotel. No drinks tonight. Just my thoughts.</p>
<p>Just remembered that tonight is &#8216;San Lorenzo&#8217;. No shooting stars so far. </p>
<p>E tu, Cielo, dall’alto dei mondi<br />
sereni, infinito, immortale,<br />
oh! d’un pianto di stelle lo inondi<br />
quest’atomo opaco del Male!</p>
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			<wfw:commentRss>http://www.portofsaints.org/?feed=rss2&amp;p=94</wfw:commentRss>
		</item>
		<item>
		<title>Stella amara</title>
		<link>http://www.portofsaints.org/?p=93</link>
		<comments>http://www.portofsaints.org/?p=93#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Wed, 04 Aug 2010 19:51:19 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Santo</dc:creator>
		
		<category><![CDATA[Diario]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://www.portofsaints.org/?p=93</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[Stella amarissima
ordigno del male
tu sei il fuoco , tu l&#8217;inferno
in cui minutamente cucini l&#8217;amore
dove bellamente si fotte il mio cuore
tuo è il presagio tuo il disegno
che la morte alla fine viene per tutti
non solo i tipi belli , anche quelli brutti
Stella oscurissima
abbraccio spettrale
Quanto vale un addio è facile capire
Nel rogo in cui mi brucio come [...]]]></description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p>Stella amarissima<br />
ordigno del male</p>
<p>tu sei il fuoco , tu l&#8217;inferno<br />
in cui minutamente cucini l&#8217;amore<br />
dove bellamente si fotte il mio cuore</p>
<p>tuo è il presagio tuo il disegno<br />
che la morte alla fine viene per tutti<br />
non solo i tipi belli , anche quelli brutti</p>
<p>Stella oscurissima<br />
abbraccio spettrale</p>
<p>Quanto vale un addio è facile capire<br />
Nel rogo in cui mi brucio come un lampo<br />
Un ciocco sei, che partecipa all&#8217;avvampo</p>
<p>Questo addio lo vedi scampo non ha dato<br />
Troppo cielo e troppe stelle per non avere niente da ridire<br />
Poche stelle e troppo cielo per non avere voglia di morire</p>
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			<wfw:commentRss>http://www.portofsaints.org/?feed=rss2&amp;p=93</wfw:commentRss>
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		<item>
		<title>Ma io ti aspetto sai&#8230; io ti aspetto.</title>
		<link>http://www.portofsaints.org/?p=92</link>
		<comments>http://www.portofsaints.org/?p=92#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Wed, 04 Aug 2010 18:41:52 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Santo</dc:creator>
		
		<category><![CDATA[Diario]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://www.portofsaints.org/?p=92</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[No rest, no peace, no truce, no break, no pause. You fucking world, why don&#8217;t you understand how bad I am doing? I am consumed by a reckless fever. And there&#8217;s no lie , no illusion that can keep this nightmare away. I will rot in hell, and you will too.
Yet my eyes keep on [...]]]></description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p>No rest, no peace, no truce, no break, no pause. You fucking world, why don&#8217;t you understand how bad I am doing? I am consumed by a reckless fever. And there&#8217;s no lie , no illusion that can keep this nightmare away. I will rot in hell, and you will too.</p>
<p>Yet my eyes keep on following sources of light, anywhere and no matter what. This desire I feel is tearing me apart. Oh I&#8217;ll shut up.</p>
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