Friday, 31 December 2010


I will be brief. Today I went to one of the small bouldering areas at Amiata, and ticked the crag, bar one problem that at the end of the session was far too painful for my baby fingers, just used to the smoothness of my Beastmaker or the occasional plastic feelings.
It's been so good. Despite the warm, humid climate, it's been very very good. Not for one single instant I desired to be somewhere else, or doing something else.
This is me.
I have so much to tell you my friends, but now there's only time to wish you all the best and only the best for 2011.
You know me, you know who I mean: I miss you my friends, a whole fucking lot.
It's time.

Friday, 24 December 2010


Today, with the rain hitting the windows and my body worked from yesterday's session at Area51, the new wall that opened at the sea, minutes away from Tartana in the summer, and Sox Club in the winter, seemed like a perfect day to say something worth reading here.
Then, I don't know why, some old reminiscence from my high school studies came to my mind, and I realized that the best thing to do is to simply point you at a couple of classics for you enjoy.

Fragment 58 from Alcmane, the so called "Nocturnal":

"They sleep, the mountain crags and gullies,
headlands and brooks, and the whole race
of footed creatures and black earth pulls from
mountain beasts and the republic of bees,
and vast fish looming in hollows
of purple sea: they sleep,
too, birds with wide, cloud-tipped wings..."

Sappho, fragment 182:

"I have a beautiful child who looks like golden flowers, my darling Cleis, for whom I would not take all Lydia or lovely..."

Alcaeus of Mytilene:

"Now we must get drunk and drink whether we want to or not. Myrsilus is dead."

It's all been said and done.

Friday, 10 December 2010