Easter...or so I heard...

Easter…

The inner meaning of this word is rebirth, we all know that, no matter if we believe in God or not. Oddly (or sadly) every year, when this day comes, I have to kill a part of me and get away from something, might that be an addiction, a habit, a relationship, or a dead road with no destination.
Every year, right before this special Sunday, I make a promise to myself, and every year I find myself in need of making another promise, which is often the same of the year before, just bigger and more challenging.
A while ago, a very special someone told me: “There is nothing more familiar than old pain. I think this is our true addiction. But one day you will realize that the prison door is open, and you’re only in the cell because it’s more comfortable than freedom…or so I heard.”
I can’t help but wonder: why do we keep promising ourselves to change? What if the new promise should actually be accepting our freaking nature? Is that a death sentence? How many Easters do have to pass by, to just admire at our stunning self in the mirror, and put some lipstick on, without our head screaming for forgiveness?
How fun, when everybody is ready for a chocolate binge, setting up the patio for a fun spring BBQ, I am right here, dreaming big and scared to death something might really happen, while constantly giving in to my favorite danger.
Have you ever played bowling? Strike or zero, just the way I like it, extremely and dangerously high, until your heart races so fast you're ready to die, just to fall as down as you can…
And you want more…
And it won’t stop…
That’s when you look into the mirror, on Easter day, and promise yourself everything is going to change….tomorrow…
How many tomorrows are we blessed to have? Does resurrection exist, or it's more like a transformation into another form of passive-aggressive animal? When does the butterfly form appear?

LA is still cold, it's the end of April, one year later, when everything's changed and nothing's at all...

You know what the ironic part is? That every year it’s the same addiction, the same relationship and the old good yellow brick road that is supposed to lead you to the world of Oz.

Tomorrow I'm going to wear my ruby slippers, because afterall, tomorrow is Easter day, the day of rebirth...
Tomorrow, is another day!

Happy Easter everyone.

K. will soon be on my arm, forever.




p.s. Thanks Cyn for being in my life. Happy rebirth day to you, whatever that means!

Waiting sucks...they say...

Just a spoiler for you guys...
Stay tuned and be patient, can't wait to share this with you all!

Solo una piccola anticipazione...

"They keep asking me why I wasn't able to stop; I still don't have the answer. The only thing I do know is that I had to touch the ocean to kill it, and to talk about her, for the very first time."

Copyright©Alice Carbone

Jack Daniel's Snow

I don't dance...but that night...something was different...
Alcohol was fluently feeding my veins and he was so damn handsome...
I was so fucking, sickly and madly in love that I couldn't resist his hands making their way over my barely dressed body...he would grab every inch of skin...he wanted me...
It was Christmas and the club was already empty, but we were dancing alone in the room like I never danced before...
Well, I wasn't actually dancing, it was more following his body lines, it was more like penetrating his skin with my hypnotic poison...it was making love to him in the freezing December night...and when we looked at the window, at 6 am, a silent and beautiful snow covered the world for us...
I don't want to close my eyes now, because I know I would dream of it, I would dream of him and I would wake up crying...like I do every time he enters my nights, without even being invited...
I remember it well, I remember too much...we kissed like no man ever kissed me...I was free and his slave at the same time, I was his angel and his whore...
I wanted him inside me right there, where we were standing, in the middle of the purple room, and when we starred at the surreal white painting outside I knew I was in love and I realized I would have loved him forever...
And so it is, like he said it would be...Mr. Rice would say...
His hands made their way under my dress, I wasn't cold...I wasn't scared someone else was there watching, I wanted him more than a cigarette when I wake up after coffee...I wanted him more that I ever wanted any drug helping me to escape my own fucked up life...
I just wanted him, monster or angel...
He had the power of giving life to a new form of me, and the ability to kill the last living breath I could exhale...
We were slowly dancing and making love, the last beer and the last smoke, before cleaning the car from the snow and going back home, just around the corner...and coming together...in between our erotic stories, in between our dreams...
It was all over the morning after, I was well aware of that but I would have waited for the night ahead, for another dance...for another dose, lost in our fake and poisoned love, whatever that meant...
It was Christmas, and it was snowing...
It was Christmas...and those flakes tasted like Jack Daniel's...they tasted like him...
Tainted love, chemical addiction...
My favorite chain...my favorite drug...

One Hundred Years...(Too much or Not enough)

Later that day, I got to think about life and numbers; it might seem an odd combination but often (and sadly) is not.

How many hours do we spend thinking about the numbers of our lives? How many calories did we eat and how many did we burn at the gym?

Have we spent too much today? Did we really need that short sexy-lolita flowery dress and the brand new no sugar added juice at Whole Foods?

Half an hour to get from one place to another, 30 minutes, 1800 seconds stuck in traffic, listening to radio commercials when the iPod’s battery is dead…because we used it during the 40 minutes cardio session earlier, to burn the 130 calories of a non-fat cherry yogurt and two organic rice cakes…

Do digits come alone? Unfortunately not, because guilt is often their bittersweet company, together with a slow melody, the too much-or not enough song…

Why is there always something wrong?

Let me say it again: too much or not enough…

Too much coffee and to much cigarettes, too many chemicals and not enough energy, not enough money, not enough time…and it ends up being a constant fight with numbers and with ourselves.

I can’t remember a day in my life without numbers in my head, and it’s funny, because I always hated Math in school, I’ve never been the number type of girl…a lot of girls I have been for sure, but definitely not a number one…how did we end up here? I'm sure there was a time when math wasn't an issue, I'm positive there was a time when I enjoyed reading without worrying about how late it was, but yet, to recall that time, I have to count even more...

We can’t sleep, and that’s why we count drops of magic to help us rest, every day one more, because numbers are addictive too; we can’t wake up either, and that's why we set up the alarm on our Blackberry that starts with our favorite song for an infinite number of times, every day…

How many years have to pass before we finally stop thinking about matching numbers? How many boyfriends, how many disappointments, how many broken hearts, how many mistakes...See? Another damn count when it’s way to late for a human brain to understand the algorithm of happiness...it's exhausting...

It all comes down to math, a scale of actions and a game where no one wins, if not time...that goes by so fast like an unnatural heart beat that scares us to death, like in Vegas, no matter what...YOU LOSE!

No, Math was definitely not my cup of tea and like in life and relationships...I always seem to look for the wrong match...I knew it, that's why I always loved Lord Byron and English literature...

Have a great weekend everybody!


Alice