DISTURBI DI PERSONALITA' 
E' da un po’ di giorni che Bruni cerca di introdurre il discorso dei disturbi di personalità ovunque. Si fa la spesa, e scappa lo Schizotipico. Si va in the post (there is a line, uh, what a surprise!) and presents the Paranoid. We eat at the table, lots of eggplant stinging my esophagus I hope not finger, and slips stealthily an actor. The Borderline check like mushrooms from a shop window looking in the new summer shoes and a Scratch & Win that says you do not win, but you have deceived me a lot and buy new ones. The fact of abuse Scratch & Win and BDZ (benzodiazepine please, do not be confused with benzoTiazepine, which are calcium channel blockers and risk of collapse. Some things have to be categorical) are the rule in these cases. And narcissism? (A mirror llo) Cabbages, hair that looks perfect to me come today. I had cheekbones higher, I would recommend to Dolce Gabbana.
Obviously, a man lying on the couch on Sunday night, watching tv, football matches and holding an ice cold Bud, has the Antisocial lurking behind him. Only a fool will not notice it.
When can I avoid like the plague.
Last night there was no mention at all of these things. It was a pleasant evening. There was also a slight breeze on the terrace. I wanted to see me Citizen Kane. That famous "yellow metaphysical," as Borges.
- But it's great, great idea. I have to find out what personality disorder haunted magnate.
I told her that not all men are plagued by problems of personality. That there are tempers.
I looked at her with his gaze. His own eh! Lightning. The idea is leaked. It must have been at times so that Napoleon has matured and took out the march in Russia. And I said something that apparently was preparing for days:
- You, for example ...
Mmm.
- Have you ever heard of Cluster C?
- my guess is the Cluster - I said.
- Of course, while we belong to some cluster. Avoidant personality disorder. Fits you perfectly.
Read: a personality disorder characterized by a pervasive pattern of behavior of social inhibition, feelings of inadequacy, extreme sensitivity to negative judgments against it and the tendency to avoid social interactions.
- Do you know what you see?
- No.
- Do you prefer to go to big shopping malls to try on shirts and jeans. Suffer orders. And their opinion. You are clearly an APD, avoidant Personality Disorder. - But even if I've got a blog!
- Exactly. Legitimate my thesis.
- Of course.
Since yesterday, therefore, as a burden I carry this diagnosis in the body.
So be lenient. And do not judge. Now you know what I suffer. And you do not hope to escape the old cluster, we are in it up neck. Word of Bruni.
CIAO MIMMO and then one morning you're not smarter,
I wanted to tell you that I'd left
face a fierce row,
me that you would have paid
again.
hair pulled them to us we really
remember?
and did not fall alone.
I know, not my pain that counts, the soup
rummage the living who remain
and you know the saying.
But what if you leave only one hand close
is telling me a heart attack?
left for me?
This was your last fragility prima di dirci ciao con tre dita
non abbiam saputo più nulla
di quello che pensavi
persino la porta chiudevi
se parlavi col prete.
Ci ha detto che
attendevi l’imbarco
coi sospesi.
E ora non una scusa, fratello
non un biglietto messo sotto
gli occhi di tutti. Solo i cerotti
di morfina sono rimasti
appesi al chiodo. Erano
gli ultimi guantoni
con cui hai picchiato
la vita.
L'INCONTRO - CAPITOLO SECONDO DELLA TRILOGIA DELLA COSTIERA Cara Madame,
Rive sfiorate dal vento del nord. Sabbia a perdifiato. Pallide ninfette riparate dal sole dei tropici da ombrelli a flowers. Air fried sensitivity. Here is a disease that infects everyone, even the critics starched.
And everything is as you left, Madame. Only quell'orsacchiotto father died Pluche, eating too many croissants. Did you know everyone. Plasson instead continues to break the bales. Bartleboom we always try, with every woman who stops here. They have wasted nothing, thousands of visitors.
I write to you, Madame, from where you are healed and always come back.
to heal.
Adultery.
But it cures your illness? I wonder. A
if firefly, firefly remains. Do not you think?
was walking the other day with Alex. I know, I know. You may ask how I did it to meet Holden Caulfield?
Long story, Madame. Suffice it to this: Alex and I walked on the sand. A barefoot. Without leaving footprints. Is not it a miracle? He pointed, with slow gestures, a hill, the horizon line, jaunty wave. Then his fingers went up a path right up to the chapel of Saint Amand.
- There are frescoes made with sea water in the chapel - he tells me. - Do you want to see them?
I pretended not to hear and I pointed out a dark spot in the middle of thick trees - what is there?
Madame, you had to see it. The face was illuminated.
I said - Oh Mr Mr! You can not imagine how proud I am of that bright spot there. I had not told
bright. Oh well.
- That is my greatest creation together with the raft of the Medusa: (triumphant) is the Locanda Almayer!
All names borrowed, I think to myself, inevitably.
- Names borrowed,
Mr Mr Here, in fact.
- So much frikkettoni.
I can only ask: - Do you feel frikkettone, Mr. Holden?
eyes wide, stick my arm, madame. He too began to cry. E 'prisoner of himself. He says: - It 's my destiny. And 'because of that evil woman. She made her so.
- Who?
- My mother. I
close to the heart. She, the bariccolessa.
Vorrei aiutarlo.
Un mucchio di anatre starnazzanti ci passa affianco, gli si fermano davanti. Sembrano sorridergli, almeno loro. E’ sempre il giovane Holden, cazzo.
Aiutarlo sì, ma dopo aver messo giù un boccone.
Gli dico: - Non faccia così! Si dia un contegno. Che cucinano di buono alla Locanda?
Gli si riapre lo sguardo. Inizia a balbettare per l’emozione.
- Un po’ di tutto signor Sig. Un po’ di tutto.
Che al paese mio vuor di’: tutto e niente. Vabbè.
Ci avviamo.
Alex ha insistito. Vuole camminare sul bagnasciuga. Ok. Siamo a casa sua.
Gli domando, indicando l’acqua: - Sa che non ho ancora capito?
- Cosa?, - mi he says.
- What is this exactly? Ocean or Sea?
arrived at the inn.
of it I was surprised by the yielding walls. But the mole. The plant has an octagon and vaguely tetragon from afar. I was going to say "... reminds me of an abbey."
- Everything is borrowed here. Remember.
I'll remember, and you too. I hope.
Despite the gloomy tone, the inn was the sound of jazz orchestra. He put in a good mood. The pianist then we could do.
- Oh I know he's thinking about Mr. Sig!, - He tells me. - He's wondering who plays the piano so well! True?
I had read his mind. I said yes.
- E ' Danny damn stingy. Danny Lemon. Eventually we convinced him to fucking get off that ship. We had not ever done!
- Why?
- People just want him! and threatens us ... We can not do run away, you understand me. The fact is that it takes a lot of money, the bastard!
- Azz.
- Contrabazz, I say. There is also the contrabazzo, that is. The result? Salaries of 350 Holden. Burned. For a bunch of crooks.
Things not to believe. He had my full support.
Shortly after we entered the inn. God, that clouds of smoke that noise, that foul language. You could not understand a shit. But I had the eye long, I do. I recognized one by one. It was the band Upon completion of the Pickwick Club.
How wonderful!
shook hands with everyone. How are you, Mr. Pickwick? And you Mr. Winkle? What Goduria. I did drag in to the sound of revelry whistles and began to feel a lot of different ladies buttocks that night. And you understand, Madame, I was under the influence of the band of Mr. Dickens. I was among friends.
Mr. Holden motioned me to join him at the table. With deep sadness I separated from my friends and I joined him.
I said - like something I guess!
Yeah, I had come here on purpose. I forgot.
I was too excited. I needed a dish that I ammosciasse adrenaline.
I said: - Of course Mr. Holden, I'd like a plate of Sardinian warbler.
The music stopped. Everyone looked at me in the eye.
Mr. Holden Alex raised his eyebrow, rage.
I said a mistake?
Yes, I said just fucked up.
- What do you think? To stay in Vigata? No one here has ever talked about Sardinian warbler. And now: OUT! That fat
of Bartleboom held me from behind. It pushed me toward the door. My friends, paid them well, they pretended not to see me. In less than no time I was out the door of the dismal Locanda Almayer. Everything for a plate of sardines warbler. Such is life.
Night had fallen. The band had begun to play a melancholy swing. The party continued.
Later, under a small bridge, I noticed a figure from his broad shoulders. I approached, and in light of the moon recognized the Master. The Master! Joseph Conrad! And dressed in rags.
I told him: - Master, here you are!
- Nobody is a prophet in his homeland - he repeated.
recognized in his voice majestic tone of the written word.
- Who are you? Almayer's you, my son?
Now I understood. The Master had been abandoned, rejected by his own son, the 'administrator Inn (Mr. Holden was the president). Put out the door as a raft of parking.
not heard me to deny him a smile. After all, how many I had given him with his words? How much happiness?
Dissi:- Sì, padre. Sono io Almayer.
Ci abbracciammo, lui commosso per aver trovato suo figlio, io commosso per aver trovato il mio Maestro. La luna era incantevole sul mare.
In lontananza, vedemmo i fuochi di artificio sparati in aria da una nave all’orizzonte.
Mi godevo lo spettacolo, tanto più che mi sentivo così leggero. A pensarci bene, era stata una grande idea mandarmi via dalla Locanda.
Senza quelle sarde a beccafico sullo stomaco, potevo dormire sonni tranquilli accanto al mio capitano.
ILIADE, OMERO. ALEX BARICCO - UN REGALO - CAPITOLO PRIMO DELLA TRILOGIA DELLA COSTIERA Ieri pomeriggio ero stravaccato sul divano, in preda al torpore.
Mi ero scolato già la terza lattina di coca-cola zero and therefore had nothing to repent.
While napping, however, I had nightmares. Appeared in the dream my daughter, I recognized by the slowness of movement, a family brand. He must have eight or nine years. She was holding an autographed copy of the Ocean Sea, and asked me to read the steps.
The nightmare did not end here. Insisted he wanted to hear the piece of the painter. What paints the sea with sea water. Deus meus!
I had eaten a sandwich with mortadella. He must have helped a lot. A coalition of saturated fat sapped my mental stability.
So I was between sleeping and waking when the phone rang. I feel it, ergo I'm alive, I thought. You imagine a paradise in the form of angels that are crying out for readings bariccoliane? Ok, I did not distress yourself. So to speak. I rose with difficulty from the couch. Here comes my sister gave me the cordless phone and tells me: - It 's for you, a call from Torino.
From Turin?
I mind the local part and be familiar with all these years with the cast of Centovetrine not know anyone in Turin enough to receive a phone call.
I prepare, should be a matter of work. Of polyps on his vocal chords give me the right touch of hoarseness for making brilliant. In these cases it is essential to phone and I I've always played the card baritone. I settle metaphorically tie, two little cough, and then respond with all possible figaggine: - Ready.
- Sigurd, finally.
woman's voice. Anzianotta. Breast sagging.
In one fell swoop I clear the sex, age and status.
- Who speaks?
let a few seconds, you wait, play with the times, makes smart. Then suddenly beats solemnly
- I, the Bariccolessa.
Porca Executioner!
me through well thought of her: - The mother or bariccolessa bariccolessa wife?
had not said!
- Do not get smart with me, young man! The son can also cheat, but I do not fool me! I, the grandmother of Danny DDT Dabadan Dabadan Bim Bum Bam Gatorade Lemon Plus, better known as ...
- Novecento.
- Exactly.
- Exactly.
- Do you know why I called you?
- No, sir.
- I knew it, I do not even know Alex.
Alex must be the homunculus.
- I'm all ears, - I say.
- My son is struggling with his work final.
- Hey, I can not but rejoice with her for this decision. Final final?
- There is little to rejoice Mr.
- Do not deny it.
- I revealed some background. The plot is bad.
- I had no doubts.
- Talk of a bitch.
- Original - I say. It looks seriously worried. The Trojan intrigues me.
- I would have a minor role. I should be the second wife of a prime. In short, a war breaks out for a whore.
- I understand. It must be very sad.
- Mr Mr Mr sad (crying). But the fact is not that. You know what?
No, I would say. But I have a hunch: I do not know what it is, then ... I stopped.
- E 'cocks that are bitter. The image of women do not come out beautifully, Mr. So our focus was all about the youngster. I do not want to ruin everything he has done for a provincial mignottella. And send them to hell all Boodmann, and Baldabiou Bartleboom (so original) of this world. Above all, I would not begin to rain mud on fandango.
What bariccolismi. I was thrilled. She was nice lady BacoDaSeta.
also began to cry with the sound of wailing bariccoli the world. It was recognized, it was her mother. The moment was of maximum tension. And was caught on the fly. Like mother, like ...
then I let soften.
- And I then? What should I do?
- Sir, it strikes me that your tardezza. But it's obvious is not it?
was obvious, of course.
A harsh criticism in the bud. This brought me.
- Alex takes it to heart your comments. Publishes avoid that stuff.
I said yes. But I asked him something in return. What he wanted. As a souvenir. To my daughter at least.
I said - I have something for you, now that I think we do.
The emotion was a thousand.
- Should I see in the basement of Holden ... ah yes, of course. How about a painting of a painter who paints the sea with sea water? We are giving half the price. Do you like?
- makes me a very happy man, ma'am.
- And then go to the canvas! Greetings my dear Mr. And please!
- Greetings to you and the family. I'll keep this, do not worry. My greetings also the son. And tell him to relax '.
closed, almost with tears in his eyes.
believe me?
After all were good people.
