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Is this the way a toy feels when its batteries run dry?
If asked to define love, i could come up with a definition that could either satisfy or disappoint you. Kids use love to define their infatuations, heart-throbs, boners and whatever. But if you read their minds, most of them would be thoroughly convinced that their definition of love is the real deal, the L bomb that shakes their boat. I have used the word before, wasted it even, even though there is no wasted love, as Cervantes tried to feed to my romantic ideals, there's just love, and to have any to give away is richness itself. What's love, oh 80's child with a cynical upbringing? Love to me is waking up in the middle of the night, and instead of spending those hours dreading every minute of adulthood lived so far, and every other minute of adulthood you shall live from then on till the day in which your atheist self will stop being and employ your full time pushing up daisies, you find contentment and peace in curling up in the other's warmth and falling asleep again. Is that not satisfying? Yet it's rather selective. Not just any person sharing a bed with you can pull the magic trick, there have been nights in which the wake could not be broken and all those open-eyed nightmares kept me company as i stared at the other occupant unable to find refuge in their arms. How i treasure those moments in the night in which no matter what's bothering me during the daytime, i can find sweet sleep. Their warm breath that tickles your neck, the legs entangled under the duvet and your head resting against their chest and those fears go to rest too, exiled from the sweet cocoon. All so lovely, but when the other starts dreading those moments, what can you do? What can you do other than cry your eyes out, swear to the world as a whole that you'll turn your heart into stone and not fall into that weakness again, reject the idea of tenderness as naive and feel all and all emptier than how you usually feel? I generally don't believe in souls, but maybe I do, cause the way my insides turn into a knot that almost makes me choke has some quality that can hardly be explained by biology. Hearts can't be broken unless you have a stroke, but how wickedly the mind can deceive you...
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what now?
 seasons change and replace each other, sometimes not at the exact timing you'd have expected. even years move on, quite often at the wrong moment. i seem to be quite set here, within my unmovable crushed ego. did i learn anything about life? sure, that it's a bitch, and then you die. i hear this theory was already well-known before i got to it. did i learn anything about work? that if you dare, and take your chances...sometimes you'll be rewarded with lotta money and sometimes you'll be punished with none. apparently also the 50-50 chances was already a well-established fact before i discovered it. and let's not forget what i learned about love! that sometimes, with some people, it's too much also to expect them to love you more than they love bowling. the best part of the deal is that you won't even know you asked such a question until you get the answer. because frankly, dear, who the fuck would ever ask the do you love me more than bowling question? so yeah, i attend my lessons and take notes, then read them again and wonder why i even chose this course in the first place, couldn't i have wanted to be a philosophy or a stone when i grew up instead? and all the couldawouldashoulda i accumulated so far flash me as if it were mardi gras and they really, really wanted a plastic beads necklace. and i stare at the person i think i love and press pause because something is really not going the way you thought it was going if one day you suddenly hear them answer the do you love me more than bowling question even though you didn't ask it. you press pause because you didn't ask the question, but you heard the answer, and for a moment there you're wondering if this is some practical joke or something. because you know that things are foggy between the two of you, and you know there is no use of the L word with each other until the fog clears a bit, but you always assumed that you were at least one inch above bowling. even though you never asked, cause god forbid the answer to be that you're not. so when the answer comes, unrequested, unexpected and unbelievable, you gotta press pause. and figure out what your next move shall be. (image hosted @  )
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waitin' for a superman
 i was lifting a box full of books last week and realized i'm not strong enough. it's a time of revelations, this one. i'm not strong enough for many things. i'm not strong enough to get over feeling emotionally challenged, nor strong enough to persist in this condition. i'm not strong enough to carry great weights nor strong enough to ask someone to help me. isn't it silly? i considered just sitting around somewhere, waiting for some superhero to pull me out of my feeling so worthless and inconsistent, and ended up feeling entirely pissed off at myself because that is not the sort of girl i want to be. on the other hand, what kind of girl do i want to be? i've tried throwing myself into work and it got me nowhere, dedication to strong idealistic notions left me clueless, traveling only has the effect of making me believe i've finally changed when i'm on the other side of the planet just to drift back into my old melancholic self once at home. i picked up acting and dropped it, chickened away from my piano and abandoned my journal and writing altogether. i've avoided all the answers i used to have when i was younger in order to avoid disappointing myself now that i know i cannot be that sort of person anymore, and i thought this would show me which way to go from here. but it hasn't, and whereas before i was tired with being me, now i'm tired of not knowing who i want to be. deconstructing yourself to reveal your real you sounds so great and zen, but probably we're not all equipped to manage that sort of shit. or at least, i definitely am not. i feel like an ikea piece of furniture right now, tried to build myself up, thought i followed all the instructions, but the final result doesn't seem that great and besides that, why are there three screws and a plastic panel left over? but there, there, it's not that i'm seeking sympathy or answers here. i guess i need to write this stuff down somewhere, get it off me, become a stranger to it, an alien who reads it for the first time, and perhaps at that point i'll have a nice and clear point of view that will set everything in the right place. or perhaps not, but at least i'll have updated this journal, reminded myself to check out my long abandoned friends page and had a laugh at my older entries and all the junk they're packed with. it's not that i've become a cynic. it's just that i don't know where to bump my head anymore. i feel a bit as if i castrated myself: won't wait for superman to save me and at the same time not strong enough to become superman. must i therefore resign to be a mere human who will never get rid of the ghosts and scars and will never know which way to go? if we exist to live, then we should strive to make our lives worth living, but how the fuck are we supposed to do that if we don't know where to start from? i'm not just having problems figuring out what would make me happy here, but also wondering who the hell is me. so far i've just proved to myself who i'm not. i have people saying that that's already something, but it's not a result i can rejoice in. at least not for over six months. i was hoping to get a bit further by now, dammit. so it happened that three weeks ago a friend of mine suggested that i think too much. i looked right into her blue eyes and decided she was right. since then i've been going out on every possible occasion trying hard to get drunk everytime. but you see, that can't possibly be the right solution, can it? maybe i do think too much, but really, not thinking hasn't made me feel any better, and usually the means i go through to prevent annoying thoughts to pop up also prevent me from being active in other ways. and time's ticking, even this journal that i have neglected so often is proof for it. how have i changed from when six years ago i started it? apparently the only difference from then is that i grew slightly taller and thinner, and somehow this doesn't really make me feel an accomplished woman. i need to watch movies even to get the notion of what an accomplished woman is. drat. [picture lyrics © the Flaming Lips](image hosted @ )
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by the way...
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o michael, where art thou?
 to be honest, it's not the people to be weird, but the way i'll be thinking of them and missing them. 'cause i'm talking 'bout those people you meet once in your life and you know you'll never meet again. when i was seventeen i went to hamburg on my own. i met a guy in the hostel, and he was listening to pixies' doolittle. our conversation was something like "what are you listening to?" "pixies. doolittle." "can you write that down for me?" "sure." i've been loving the pixies ever since, and for some odd reason can't help feeling nostalgic when i listen to doolittle. i think of mr.black - cause obviously i don't even know his real name - and wonder about him. there's the lady at the reception of the fashion museum in paris, who smiled at me and talked to me kindly and said i was trés jolie, which of course i didn't believe but appreciated anyway. there are those two american kids at some other hostel i was staying. they were definitely younger than me, and one of them really liked to cook. anytime i was around the kitchen i'd have to taste whatever it was he had just prepared, and there was this time he cooked spaghetti and asked me to try them. i said they were good and he replied "it's italian food." i started laughing uncontrollably, never able to explain that i had been living in italy all of my life and knew pretty well what that was. and there's that time i was leaving paris by train. i knew it was gonna be a really long ride, and as i pulled my journal out of my bag i saw the reflection of a complete stranger on the glass panel. i sat down again, and stared at the reflection, amazed at how vivid the image was and how this person was SO not gonna see me, unless he was as whacky as i am and planned on spending the whole journey staring upwards. so i opened my journal and started drawing his portrait. today i still find myself staring at the picture of this someone i don't know, who had got off the train at some french town and who i probably wouldn't even recognize if ever i saw again. sometimes i try imagining how their lives must be. what are they doing right now? and with their lives? what are their names anyway? are the people i met during my wanderings still travelling around the world? still having fun, listening to good music and staying at cheap hostels? and i wonder how the hell have i managed doing this, giving away my affection and memory to people i'd never see again in my entire life. and it's June, like every year the memories of these strangers come back and haunt me. June's always been the month in which i got overly nostalgic. i think it's because i still associate it to the last month of school, when everyone starts drifting away and looking for other people and places. or maybe it's the heat, the way it tricks with my head and the odd memories it evokes. or maybe it's my way to mark the years as they pass by, June by June, and how something always drastically changes at this point. so it's June, and as always i watch summer unfold before me, sensing the distances between me and other people i will never be able or try to fill, while i keep attaching myself to shadows and avoid reality. and today i think of michael and wonder if he ever made it to India anyway. michael sold maps to amsterdam's coffeeshops. i was walking around my cousin's dog and heading towards the station. i leaned against the wall for a minute and he walked towards me, with his gold teeth and stack of maps. "do you want a map? all the coffeeshops in amsterdam! you're a tourist, right?" i wasn't interested in the maps (no, really) and told him so. instead of dismissing me with a "fuck off" as i thought he would, we started talking. he said he liked italians, he lived with two of them. he didn't like amsterdam and the dutch people instead, so cold and career-oriented. he missed his mother, hoped to meet his father in heaven and was gonna move to leave holland by the end of September. the day after i wrote a poem about him. for almost a year now i've been wondering if michael ever made it to india, and if he's happy there. i think of good old michael, friend of mine for an hour, and wonder if he's okay. Michael's going south (image hosted @ )
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aren't you just loving these sunny spring days? (if it rains tomorrow i'm gonna punch someone in the face. and it might be me) (image hosted @
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RENT
 five hundred twenty-five thousand six hundred minutes, finally it will be out in the cinemas also here in italy. from tomorrow. and i really really really really really want to see it dammit. and someone must come with me or i'm gonna cry. (24/04 - ETA: YES, YES I DID SEE IT, YES!)
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the path of hell is a one-way street
 and yet i would manage to get lost. for sure. anywho, first day at work after spending the remains of my holiday as a hermit. there's so many people, dammit. and they all talk! like, they call, and they talk and you can't get them to stop! then they come at the reception desk, and they talk some more! like, they keep on talking all the time. it must be so tiring. as i mentioned before, i finally acknowledged i'm not if tomorrow i went to work with a recorder and, like, left it accidentally on somewhere, would it be illegal of me to listen to what human beings say when they interact between them? (image hosted @
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my girl, my girl don't lie to me, tell me where did you sleep last night? - or - hell, she writes a
 hello, my name is milcah, and i don't know if you remember me, but i used to write on this livejournal. then i disappeared. sort of, an year ago. i stopped posting altogether. i guess at least one or two people wondered why. was i mad at someone? was i fed up with livejournal? was i dead? the answer is no. there's some stuff that went on. kinda lots, actually. but because it's been long, you don't really have to read all that stuff. honest. just don't click on the link below. i said don't. don't click on it. oh, stop, you human! ( where the fuck have i been all this time? )
for once in my life, i really am not alone. i have people i rely on, and i really trust the people i knew already i could rely on. and i have them every day, and they are not only one person. and i can talk to them for hours on a Friday night, or i can call them on the phone when the world stops, or i can run off to their place for a day or two when i need to breathe. i think i finally have the tools to be happy. and having a juvenile crush or two at the moment doesn't harm either.
headers from this image. <3 burton.
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what's up, doc?
hellohellohello guess who's back? (evil laughter? maybe not.) okay, so most of you will not have even noticed my absence. and some of you might have wondered. a few of you might have even panicked a little. and i know at least one person who'll be furious for my disappearance. in any case, and from all of my heart - sorry!!!! i swear, i have a good reason this time. i was busy. no, really!
aaand that's all, folks!
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.breathe.
 i swear i'll make a proper update tomorrow.
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specchio specchio delle mie brame, dimmi dov'è il mio reame, dimmi che sarà di me
 if you ever happen in milano and you go to brera, you just have to go to this place's toilet. it's priceless. which reminds me that you have to pay to use public toilets in amsterdam. i honestly find it very annoying.  ( more? ) ***
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goodbye ruby tuesday
 the image above is from PostSecret, and if you don't already know that site then you better visit it soonish, cause it's really, really cool. and i don't use "cool" that often, do i? anyhow, i'm leaving tomorrow for amsterdam, where i'll be staying for one week. i might be sending postcards, so snailmail me if you want one too (except for a certain person i already own a postcard to, so he doesn't need to ask =P) love and rockets and anything that really matters. (image hosted @
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in the springtime of her voodoo
 shake (it like a polaroid picture). jump. spin. remember last time you fell asleep? you thought you'd only close your eyes for a minute, and when you woke again eons had passed, battles were lost, and you were left to confront the facts, alone in the first row. did you know that some people sleep with their eyes open? your eyes are open now: wake up.
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why can't my ba.ll.oo.n stay up in a perfectly windy sky
 the things you own end up owning you. i don't remember who said this first, was it tyler durden or jesus christ? it tells you you cannot call someone even when you've got full credit and all the other cell phones around you appear to be working perfectly fine. it unblocks its pad on its own accord and starts calling people leaving you with no money for whenever you'll be desperate to communicate with others (and on this matter, further apologies to anyone who has been receiving odd calls with sounds of cars passing by or keys tingling or whatever. especially to you astrid, cause you're no.1 in my handy's favorite people list). the worst thing my cell phone has ever done to me happened today.
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driven like the snow
 snow! 'n i mean real snow. not that unhealthy iced grey goo we normally get here, but actual snow. at least one foot tall. ciò che amo della neve è sentirla mentre mi cade in testa. ciò che odio della neve che mi cade in testa è che si scioglie come niente.
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narcolepsy
you wake up at 6AM and you have to work until 6PM and you know it, you know it you just cannot afford yourself to go. 2PM and you know you're too tired, you cannot go. 3PM and you're discussing with him whether you should go or not. 6.30PM and you agree with her to meet at the entrance at 8.45PM. 8.30PM and you're there. thumbsup: thumbsdown: amusing: all in all i'm devastated, but you know, heart always has it its way...  (image hosted @
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hello
 it's hard to explain, and it don't really know the reasons, but i feel like everytime i post on here there's pressure on what i may or may not say. perhaps making this journal friends only would make things easier, in a sense i would know who's reading my stuff and who's not and that might make me feel more relaxed. on the other hand, i don't really care who reads me. in over three years of livejournaling i have quite learned what not to say in order to avoid the internet to interfere in anyway with irl, so who reads my journal can't be the real problem. i guess it's my own expectations. this stuff is almost like therapy for me, reading myself helps me to point out what's going on in my life and how satisfied i am with it. i think that's the pressure. in a sense, i'm expecting from myself more and more every time. i need to prove myself that i get better as time goes by, and i risk a disappointment with every post. now, i can't say i need to break free from livejournal for a while, because i continuously do that. you folks know me, i disappear and reappear with the turn of the wind (by the way, today the wind was blowing crazy here in milano, it looked like that starting scene of mary poppins in which all the applicants get blown away to give way to miss perfect) so i'm not gonna say for the 100th time: "guys, i might be absent for a while, see ya soon". what i'm gonna say is: "guys, i'll always be a fickle poster, and btw, when i feel crap i don't comment your journals. but hey, don't feel neglected: i read you often (from work, but during breaks cause i'm a professional) and by the by, i was wondering if you could e-mail me your addresses cause i wanted to send off christmas cards." just like every year, the procedure is the same. send me an e-mail to either the address on the profile or at joon[at]littlekasino[dot]com and you will get a card in return. and if i was supposed to already have your address, well, send it off again cause i most probably won't find my old address book. many of you probably won't get your greetings by christmas day, but hopefully it will still be winter by the time they'll be delivered, and that's oki cause they're seasonal greetings, and i'm an atheist anyway. enjoy your holidays, and if i'm not back by that midnight hour in particular, see ya in 2005. (image hosted @ )
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maybe she's just pieces of me you've never seen well
when i was a kid i almost took part to an important show on international love & friendship. it was broadcasted on tv, and even though we were a full load of children and no one could get famous with that show, at the time i was a child model so it still was an interesting job oportunity. but while in the backstage, one of the crew who was helping me with my costume stapled the cloak directly on my skin by mistake. it hurt so much that i didn't want to go on stage anymore. so another girl replaced me. ( so you say you don't wanna stay together anymore ) 
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drained
distressed
nostalgic
grumpy
excited
listless
busy
awake
bouncy