Showing posts with label people. Show all posts
Showing posts with label people. Show all posts

30 December, 2010

2010. A year in review.

2010 has been a terrible year for blogging. This is ironic, because this year has been one of the most eventful of my life. One thing stands out above all: the inability to control my time, to live it as I always have, leisurely, calmly, at ease. I feel like I have constantly been in a rush, swamped with tasks to complete and goals to achieve. 3 big ones in particular: to conceive N., to open the hub and to move into our new home. I am glad to say all 3 have been accomplished. But all have their silver lining. Life, after all, is never quite as clean-cut as movies are.


First: N.'s conception. He - and the siblings that hopefully will follow - will have a whole blog dedicated to their strange and beautiful life. No, it won't be one of those tedious and saccarine lists of endless achievements by the new-born (HE SMILED! HE COUGHED! HE SHAT!!). It will be the first draft of a serious/ridiculous sit-com, starring us in this social experiment that promises to rock the world. You wait an see. Lady V is of course on the case, but I dare say I'll have a role to play beyond dutiful dad. The writer inside started stirring the moment Rolling Stone gave me a column to play with a month or so ago.

So I won't really go into too many details about the story of how N. came into being. But if I look back at the last year, I can't help thinking of what Lady V and I went through almost exactly a year from now. How incredibly painful and yet how important a moment in our life that loss has been. I dare say fundamental in our journey. I would have never known how much I care about her and about what we are doing together if I hadn't touched with my heart the power of loss. And therefore I am grateful this year has given us life out of loss. Joy out of pain. And even though N. will see the sun for the first time in 2011, for me he is a child of 2010.


Second: the hub. Of the three, this one is perhaps the one with the darkest of linings. It started off both dark and rose-tinted, with a war erupting while 1 year of preparatory work was about to come to fruition with the launch of the first Italian centre for social innovation. I don't regret the war. I was one of those who started it because it was necessary, the catastrophic course taken by J. was going to destroy all the work I and many others had done. And while the war isn't completely over, and some rumblings can still be heard, the outcome is clear. The hub has become something much closer to what we wanted. But like in all good tragedies, I have understood that I can fight hard and long, but that fighting takes a heavy toll on me: I loose faith and amidst the success I can be left like an empty shell.

I have learned that in order to do what I want to do in life I have to find a way to avoid conflict, not to make it a central part of my existence. Because, just as I proved to myself how good I could be in my work (the launch of the hub in Milan called in over 1000 people, and 270 became members within 9 months of the launch), just as my leadership was paving the way for the accomplishments of those around me whom I had chosen, I found myself at the centre of conflict, questioned, accused, untrusted by these very people I had given my trust to. Is this the inevitable consequence of success? This year has made me think long and hard about the delicate balance between leadership and participation. My time in Milan has triggered a lot of doubts, with violent conflict erupting constantly around me despite the obvious sucess of it all. Irony and tragedy. I found myself drawn to F's totalitarian theories: command and control. Can I really reconcile this with my strife for a flatter, networked, democratic and emergent world?


I certainly find that this last year of life in Italy has drained me of all faith towards humans in any position of power, but has also left me in a doubtful position towards humans without any power at all. Neither really seem to understand what their responsibilities are. Both seem stalled in a fruitless battle, unable to move forward. This year was the last I spent working full time in Italy. My dealings will continue, but from afar. My vision becomes too blurred in that country. Too much decay. Too much infighting. Too much incompetence masked as experience. Too much blunt hypocricy. That country is not good for the soul and certainly not good for talented individuals who want to change the world. A world of old men fearful of the deluge that is rising around them. They will all drown, and personally I hope the floods take as many as possible down in the deep dark corners of the Oceans with them. What used to be a love-hate relationship with Italy has now become bored disgust. Funny that even a staunch supporter of the country - and of its decaying capital in particular - like Tot F should in the end take a graceful exit towards better pastures. Funny and timely. For both of us.


Third: the house. Well, of all three this has been the closest to a complete FIASCO. It all started quite well (doesn't it always?). Workers move in, a schedule is set and everyone reassures us that "these guys are pretty good, not like other builders!". And sure enough, when the first completion date arrives, so does the first completion date rescheduling. From June to July. Then again, from July to August. But by the time the third date-change arrives - from August to September - our bags are packed and the moving-in date set, so the move happens anyway, despite the house being in a complete state. Hence, 3 month of hell start, moving in-and-out of the house to try to accommodate builders' needs in the vain hope that they will finish in time, this time. September, October, November go by. Lady V is getting bigger, Nicolo' is moving around faster, yet the house remains unfinished. And while we hoped it would be done by Xmas 2010, it is now NYE and the house is still littered with unfinished jobs.

Our hearts are now consciuos of the fact that this house, in some way, will never be completed as we thought it would. But, without a proper bang, without a housewarming party, without the breaking of bottles onto its front doow, I can safely say it already feels like home. The dining table has already hosted many dinners. The library/projector room is full of wonderful books and arty filth, action flicks and trashy TV DVDs that have already started being screened onto the white wall. And - to me most importantly - I have a room to call my own again. After 2 years of sofa-beds and rented holes, of packing bags and loosing clothes, finally a place that will be my nest for years to come. I needed it. 2010 ends on a good note. Home is where your loved ones, yes. But also where you know you have a bed to call your own!


The last, but certainly not least, mention in this list of achievements (although it cannot be said to be entirely mine) is Tot T's transfer over to the Old Continent. I don't think I have managed to express to him how grateful I am for this, and how brave I think he is. Jumping into a completely new life, despite its familiarity, away from the comforts of home. Embracing an adventure with little certainties and a lot of question marks. Fun, yes, but also challenging, for him, for me, for all. And yet, so far, so good. This is an achievement. Not many relationships manage to get this far. I consider myself lucky since ours has and it still gives so much joy to us both.


Again, here too there is a silver lining. For one Tot brought over to the Old Continent, there is one lost to the New one. A splendid new life, close to Little J, and to glorious S in NYC. But still, I miss her. I wish I could just jump in a cab and go feel up her beautiful bosom for comfort. I wish we could just be silly together, watching an array of ridiculous movies, drinking G&T (me) and VodPom (her) into the night, talking nonesense until the wee hours, inventing the scripts that will make us rich and famous, discussing whether the Vatican should be razed to the ground (me) or declared a protected species (her).

Finally, this year's review would sound far too serious and would not be complete without some of this year's lesser (in comparison) achievements, rigorously in list-form, in true Tot fashion:

- No. of first-ever public DJ performances: 1
- No. of kick-ass porno parties held in order to show off abovementioned DJ skills: 1
- No. of costume-changes during abovementioned party: 3
- No. of flights taken (33, I counted them!)
- No. of litres of oil produced in Tuscany: 28
- No. of new friends that I can call such: 5 (DJ S - yes, can't say I really knew her before this year - Andrea, Nadia, Lord Leng and Efi)
- No. of days of bliss in Vermont: 7
- No. of days of near-bliss had it not been for the death-marches in Maine: 3
- No. of new dances experimented: 1 (line-dancing. awesome)
- No. of barwomen befriended in Brooklyn and convinced to come work in London: 1
- No. of new countries visited: 0 (unless we count Maine as a country, which I don't. very bad. not to be repeated in 2011)
- No. of fab weddings attended in sumptuous English estates: 1
- No. of old drugs aborted: 1 (cigarettes, 3.5 months without them and counting!)
- No. of G&Ts turned down in order to make sure soldiers were in tip-top form to produce a hearty N.: countless.
- No. of G&Ts downed following said conception: countless.
- No. of rippled abs achieved through sweaty gym sessions: 0.
- No. of hours spent in front of mirror worrying about said abs: enough to get a perfect six pack if they had been spent at the gym instead.
- No. of new dishes mastered: probably 2 (brasato di manzo, prawn stir-fry, can't way it's a huge achievement, but it's something...)
- No. of trees killed in order to celebrate a Christian festivity: 1
- No. of Bejeweled Blitz games played try to beat DJ S's score: over 400, and counting...

As for next year: lots of resolutions, of course. And judging by how 2010 went, this time most of them will be achieved! Rah.

13 January, 2009

Dominican visitors

Travelling through Milan, or living here... either way, wonderful encounters by night...





08 October, 2008

Milan, yah


With all of you posting furiously about your lives, I feel a little blackmailed into doing the same. Mind you, I will still do what I want, when I want to. But in this case, I will indulge you a little.

So, as Lady V pointed out, the first few weeks in Milan have been rather eventful. Naturally we're both being terribly cool ad fashionable, wearing only the laterst knitwear and hopping around in flaming pink Vespas.

Well. Not really.

I have rocked a bike up from Tuscany, and am now riding my favourite means of transport in possibly the most cycle-unfriendly city I have ever visited. Why? Well, to begin with, most of the roads are covered in this:


As if bumping up and down on these little buggers wasn't enough, occasionally I find myself having to cross through these:


The combination of trecherous gaps and slippery metals has already made me fall twice in front of indifferent passerbys. Thus I REFUSE to stop using my helmet - considered terribly unfashionable in the fashion capital - since I know at some point I am going to get hit by someone.

The living situation, as some of you have already been able to hear from me, is far from ideal. In a mock-1960s Doris Day and Rock Hudson sitcom, we sleep side-by-side in the little space available to us, while my sister camps in the livign room. I feel like a member of the Frank family, except if I remember well her and Peter had their own sleeping spaces, so you see it's worse than the Holocaust, or at least Vietnam.

Hopefully this will change soon, but I doubt so.

The rest of the time is spent journeying up and down the peninsula to reach our beloved litte Tuscan retreat. There, it must be said, I still have my room, which makes going to bed a really pleasant affair. Lots of movie-watching, lots of relaxing, and the occasional bureaucratic nightmare to do with the chicken shed. Gosh. Don't even get me started, but let me say that the little derelict building will end up costing us more than a flat in New York.

I am now in London, about to go back. A quick visit to do with the launch of the King's Cross Hub, which looks amazing. Coming back made me realise how much I love this city, which in a sense is my real home, and how much I want to make sure I come back here soon. Milan will never be my home, although, for the time being, it's really cool to be there. Truth be said, I miss everyone here, I miss the long evening rants around the table with Little P and Little H, I miss hanging out with P&M talking about life and Tuvan throat singing, I miss A's little rants about the banking system and D's dark humour, I miss B's fondness for turquoise, and G's reassuring presence.

Ok, enough of this. Off today, back to the Dark Heart of the Med, ready to kick ass.

And you'll just see, 6 months from now we'll all be celebrating huge victories and planning how to take over the world...

08 March, 2008

A long lost friend


There is nothing more amazing than reconnecting with a long-lost friend and finding that you still share a lot, in the past, in the present and in the future.

You rock, Alex.

23 October, 2007

Strange coincidences


Some turn the Trevi fountain's water into blood.
Some try to silence the written word.
Some yearn for the needle and for St Paul's writings.

Rome, like Jerusalem before you, beware of the signs.
The end could be nigh...

22 October, 2007

Bill Shannon



Awesome...

09 October, 2007

Fragments of a summer's end

First, the warm sunshine of Spain...






... followed by Paris and Reims, with its amazing people and mind-blowing food...





... and finally, roaming the ancient streets that from Milan lead to Rome, via the hills of Tuscany...








What a summer's end... I love you all.

11 September, 2007

The Tots do Cumbria

After a long silence (and apologies to those loyal readers who felt they had been left down), mainly due to my bad, bad habit of leaving everything to the last minute, hence having to scribble a 10k words dissertation in just about 2 hours, then buggering off to Spain, I return to my beloved web-log with more tales of totty wonder. This time, for everyone's delight, I shall post a couple of images from my recent romping in the lovely northern district, which gave us lots of lakes, a few depressed poets, and of course Lady Vestibule Tots: Cumbria.

So, it all started more or less like this:



This is of course an image from last week, when Lady V was roaming the festive streets of Notting Hill, not to partake in the Carnival celebrations, but to down a bottle or so of Jegermeister in the (hopefully successful attempt) to dump a rather pesky creature out of her life.

So we leave on Saturday morning, armed with coffee, croissants and a lengthy amount of catching-up to do, and before long we are stepping onto a platform, greeted by Mother V, who recklessly drives us (a family trait, it seems) to the ancestral home. There, seated in large chairs surrounded by majestic scenery is Father V, and a handful of French cousins/aunts/uncles who seem to move in tight packs and speak a charmingly appalling English.

Naturally, a game of boule is preceded by a couple of large G&Ts.



The day progresses between hearty walks and debauched drinking sessions, and I begin to understand where our beloved Lady V gets some of her confused life-approaches from. This was taken by the lake, the holy trinity in all its glory:



But this is nothing compared to my second day, where even more reckless driving brings us noneother than to the house of the Almighty, where for the first time in 15 years I find myself kneeling at an altar receiving blessing from a priest (in fact, Father V himself, only in a skirt). I blame the alcohol of the previous evening, the roaring hangover, and Lady V's terrible influence. I leave the church wondering if my own mother will be happy for my religious experience, or upset because I sold out to the Protestants. I decide not to mention the incident altogether.

The day descends into an orgy of booze and organised fun: spoon and Scotch-egg races, leek-tossing competitions, photographic treasure hunts, activities that all children seem to adore, together with a large handful of over-enthusiastic adults, while we - in our condescending urban disdain - avoid like plague.

To the extent of hiding behind a sofa to avoid being dragged outside in the miserable weather to perform like circus monkeys.

Instead, we decide to steal children's toys and rehears our favourite activity: corrupting the youth...





Oh, well... what else can I say except that we gave DAMN GOOD totty...

27 June, 2007

Finally back from Glastonbury

To all those concerned people out there, let me reassure you: we are all alive and the mud/rain/flooding has not beaten our spirits. This was, indeed, another amazing Glastonbury, packed with stunning music, ecstatic moments and tons of hippies.

Highlights included: the performances of Arcade Fire, Martha Wainwright (but also Rufus was amazing), the Go Team!, Chemical Brothers, Toumani Diabaté (who appeared alongside a fabulous Bjork), CSS, Mr Scruff, Shirley Bassett (apparently, I didn't actually get to see her, but Lady V wouldn't stop talking about her) and Beirut. I can't really remember the other acts I saw, so assume they were just mediocre. Or I was not in a perfectly sane state of mind. Either way, apparently I had a permanent grin on my face, a clear sign that I was having the time of my life. All this despite the trekking through mud under pouring rain in freezing temperatures for most of the time.

Here are some initial pictures taken by the lovely Pam. Most of them were taken early on during the festival - later I apparently started looking like Gollum (in Molly's words). I was clearly not offended by the remark. Mud has never looked that good even on the likes of Kate Moss.

More pictures soon as soon as PDF sorts his camera out!





18 June, 2007

More from last night...

For everyone's delight. More pictures from Friday night...

In random (mainly reversed) order.

Big hair. Big trouble.


"What's wrong with you people!??!"


The ever-cool Alex


M.: Tots. Listen to me. You NEED to go home now.
V.: Alright! Alright! Just one for the road, shall we?


Uhm... that hat looks MUCH better on Cat...


Spence. He's the man. The girls (and the boys) just LOVE his groove.


Er... yes. The hat did the rounds...


The star of the party. But what is she holding?!


Yes they WERE drunk.


Definitely looking good...


Cool


Cooler


"Can you REALLY do it in that position?!?!"


Yes, it's all about me. If Totty can do it, why can't I?


Ah. I love it when I get tall ladies sitting on my lap. PS: Don't ask why I keep on doing strange signs with my fingers. I think I was just stretching them after the exam.


Earlier in the day. People still looking pretty and sober...