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West Thought Sucks, Calculators Win

Rebecca West probably held not the human race in high regard if she argued that men are “idiots” and women are “crazy”. As Marina Warner points out in her interview with the writer in 1981, Rebecca West still wrote in "Black Lamb and Grey Falcon" (I’ve not read it in English, but this was the general meaning anyway) that there is nothing more rare than the belief that a man will never throw away his happiness. That is: all we know that people will do anything to be unhappy.

At this point I’d quote her umpteenth thought, according to which “the trouble about man is twofold. He cannot learn truths which are too complicated; he forgets truths which are too simple.”

May be yes, it's true. May be not (or we would be not here now, don't you think so?).

Is the human being really an animal just pretending to seek the absolute happiness and well-being (the common welfare especially)?

Perhaps, the only truth is that the human being is a pessimistic animal. It’s always the same old song, I know...

F.i. there are two reactions to this West's thought "Motherhood is the strangest thing, it can be like being one's own Trojan horse".

- First time I heard it, I said: "Wow. Very strong... Pfiuuu! Sooo saaad!"

- First time my dear friend Mrs Erection heard it, she said: "It's fantastic! What a beautiful metaphor for the victory of life!"

My mother always hated everything written by Rebecca West.

She says that it's not true that Rebecca was a feminist, she was lesbian, actually (I don't know why. I think my mother is Lesbian, of course) and that she certainly was a bully and that if she'd lived today, would surely have been one of those assholes shouting on mobiles. To be clear: one of those like her ex-boss, the one she killed (then she went to jail).

"My temples were throbbing." She confessed "I heard his voice, crying out on that fucking mobile phone whilst walking back and forth to the office. That voice - too shrill to be a man's voice. It floated behind me, before me, by my side... My arm moved. An automatic gesture - I grabbed the calculator next to the monitor and flung it at him. I aimed uprightly at his head. I never had a sure aim, but this time I silenced him, luckily. "

I love my mother. She's a great woman. She's the real representation that calculators never fail.

Cinnamon Stick (Tangerine Face)

It seems that a writer can sell in Italy only if his books titles'  show at least one word for an "exotic" ingredient. And if there is anything like that in the title, it doesn't take much to put it right.

This is the case of the novel translated in Italian under the title "Love, Sugar and Cinnamon" published by Newton Compton Ed. In fact, the original title (I wonder if it's really chosen by Amy Bratley?) is "The Girls' Guide to Homemaking", actually... I agree with the Italian translator of genius - Nobody would buy it in italy with a title like that!

It then goes to the "Days of honey" by Ciezadlo Annia (in Italy "Days of Honeys and Ginger"), and  tto the "Saffron Moon" by Nicole Vosseler (original title: "Unter dem Safranmond", which effectively translate in English to "Under the Saffron Moon").

And so, in Italy also the heaven becomes "bitter" like angostura in the last novel by Kaui H. Hemmings.

It is obvious that I write now driven by the impulse of anger and envy. Who would not sell millions of copies, even at the cost to sprinkle his own piece of writing with a bit of nutmeg? I hate nutmeg, for example, but I'd be glad to put it on my novel if the reward is a huge circulation.

Maybe that's why my last work shows till now the title "7 leaves of mallow"... I thought of it by chance, and now I feel like distorting it!

But, if it's really so, it also means that love, or just the fantasy maybe is closely linked with spices, or whatever is edible. I remember my old post "Pestilent Elder Bread" - entirely dedicated to that great love which overwhelmed me. Unreturned Love.

I met him a few days ago, on the subway. Heart skipped a bit, but I managed to hold my frozen smile.

He's is skinny now, but his lips are still wonderful. He's more... No, I do not want to put it in written. I know he could read it, and I'd like to tell him in person, ask him with my tangerine-face: what happened to you? Need cinnamon stick?