far too much writing, far too many photos

runswithscissors


Saturday, March 01, 2003

For some reason, an entry I wrote and posted yesterday afternoon never published. This is attempt no. 2:

I continue scribbling down things seen and experienced here in Florence, sometimes at a feverish pace. How the hell I'm going to get even part of it typed into this godforsaken journal in coherent fashion is beyond me.

To begin: last night I saw God. She appeared in the form of a waiter bringing me one of the most wonderful dishes of gnocchi I have ever had the opportunity to shovel into my mouth. Once done, I slobbered all over this poor waitperson in abject gratitude, an experience he may never forget.

Prior to that, as part of the day's wanderings, I walked along the Arno River, an expanse of opaque, dull-green water that cuts across the southern part of the city, bringing me to Ponte Vecchio (Old Bridge). An old bridge, like the name says. Old, old, old. And interesting, mainly because it's a covered bridge, the covering including numerous shops that line most of both sides of the bridge, hanging off the sides of the structure like square-cornered burls. All high-end jewelry joints, it turns out, apart from the one or two souvenir shacks in the center of the bridge, the only part of the structure without built-on shops, and therefore the only place on the bridge where there's actually a view one can check out. And as I checked it out, I discovered that on the west side of the bridge, where the railing intersects the rear corner of the shop buildings, an electric cable runs down the side of the structure past the railing. Someone at some point got the bright idea of fastening a small padlock around the cable, who knows why. The idea caught on, there are now anywhere from one to two hundred diminutive padlocks hanging on the one cable I investigated, clustered together along a three or four foot length, many padlocked to each other in a thick wad of chunky, angular metal. Some of them have been there a long time, sporting years' worth of rust and corrosion, and most bear messages, written in pen or thin-point magic marker. Messages like:

ISA + LUCA
28-12-02

or

DINO
+
MARTA

or

ANA MARIA
WAS HERE
READ AND
WEEP.

I read. I did not weep.

Afterward, I wandered back toward the city center, stopping to take in the ambience and eye-popping visuals at la Piazza della Signoria, one of several truly spectacular locations in the city's older sections. Just after lunch, mid to late afternoon. An enormous concentration of people swirled about the space, mostly tourists (of all ages, from all over the map, speaking all sorts of languages), including school groups moving in and out of the open space in long, ragged lines, guided by mostly-patient older folk. People of all colors, physical types, manner of dress. Continuous noise, motion, energy. And through all of that, a 20-something Italian couple threaded their way across the piazza, arms around each other, talking softly, taking little note of the scene around them. They moved from east to west, finally entering a small, narrow sidestreet and disappearing.

Two more moments:

-- Walking along a narrow street paved with flagstones that saw little automotive traffic, pedestrians everywhere. A 30ish woman in a long, dark coat and spiky hair dyed white passed through on a normal, non-racing-style bike, complete with wire basket hanging from the handlebars. She came on at serious speed -- sitting bolt upright, pedalling hard, face showing no expression, making little effort to avoid pedestrians so that it was wise to get of her way -- passing through the street with a rattle of bicycle parts, then disappearing around a corner.

-- Stopping at an ATM machine not far from la Piazza della Signoria, I noticed a sticker someone had pasted to the front of the waste container hanging below the machine. White, with a black outline, in the shape of a dialogue balloon from a comic strip. The words in the dialogue balloon: BITE AND RUN AWAY ART

More tomorrow.

rws 9:38 AM [+]

Links to this post:

<\$BlogItemBacklinkCreate\$>
BLATHERINGS

August 2001
September 2001
October 2001
November 2001
December 2001
January 2002
February 2002
March 2002
April 2002
May 2002
June 2002
July 2002
August 2002
September 2002
October 2002
November 2002
December 2002
January 2003
February 2003
March 2003
April 2003
May 2003
June 2003
July 2003
August 2003
September 2003
October 2003
November 2003
December 2003
January 2004
February 2004
March 2004
April 2004
May 2004
June 2004
July 2004
August 2004
September 2004
October 2004
November 2004
December 2004
January 2005
February 2005
March 2005
April 2005
May 2005
June 2005
July 2005
August 2005
September 2005
October 2005
November 2005
December 2005
January 2006
February 2006
March 2006
April 2006
May 2006
June 2006
July 2006
August 2006
September 2006
October 2006
November 2006
December 2006
January 2007
February 2007
March 2007
April 2007
May 2007
June 2007
July 2007
August 2007
September 2007
October 2007
November 2007
December 2007
January 2008
February 2008
March 2008
April 2008
May 2008
June 2008
July 2008
August 2008
September 2008
October 2008
November 2008
December 2008
January 2009
February 2009
March 2009
April 2009
June 2009
July 2009

.  .  .  .  .  .  .  .


MORE FOCUSED BLATHERINGS


Travels:
London '01
Pamplona
Italy '03
U.K. '03
Sevilla
Casablanca
Stoke-on-Trent
Barcelona
Québec/Ottawa
Boston/Lisbon/Madrid
Italy '04
Montréal
La Sierra

Events:
Madrid -- arrival
9/11
Emergency Room I
Holidays 2001
Holidays 2002
Holidays 2003
Holidays 2004
Holidays 2005
A neighbor's passing
Madrid -- March 11 bombings
  and aftermath
Emergency Room II
Israeli friend/Madrid Marathon
Madrid -- Royal Wedding
The DELE exam

GONE, a novel:
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10

THE BASTARD CHILDREN OF
JOE ROCCO, a novella:
-- Part 1
-- Part 2
-- Part 3

BURBANK SHRUGGED,
a screenplay:
-- Part 1
-- Part 2
-- Part 3
-- Part 4

Short stories:
Murphy's Wife
Another Autumn
La Queja de Una
  Hermanastra Muy Conocida

Autobiography
-- Personal History
-- Hormones On Parade
-- Accidents, Random Mishaps,
    Personal Problems

.  .  .  .  .  .  .  .


OTHER SOURCES OF WHOLESOME ENTERTAINMENT

People/Weblogs:
dooce
foxvox
fudge it
fear not
rebekka
bookslut
802online
idle words
madhaiku
wockerjabby
grow-a-brain
rebel market
letting me be
out and about
kung fu grippe
fanatical apathy
baghdad burning
wfuv's music blog
kexp's music blog
mimi smartypants
between the miles
just a hippie gypsy
the impossible cool
tomato can brushes
vermont homestead
sugar mountain farm

Good Clean Fun:
gizmodo
futurismic
postsecret
dave barry
human clock
mcsweeney's
spaceweather
book-a-minute
internet archive
self-portrait day
my cat hates you
out of context quotes
surrealist compliment
  generator
strindberg and helium

Makin' Musical Whoopee:
last fm
stereo8
pandora
soma fm

.  .  .  .  .  .  .  .


ABOUT RWS/CONTACT





This page and all its contents copyright © 2001-2011 by runswithscissors unless otherwise noted.


runswithscissors would like to thank everyone who's ever lived for everything they've ever done.



Syndicate This Site

Blogarama

BlogCatalog

Bloggapedia, Blog Directory - Find It!



technorati profile

Subscribe with Bloglines

www.flickr.com
runswithscissors' photos More of runswithscissors' photos