I’ve been thinking over the last few days about conversation and knowledge.
I can’t have a creative smart conversion in Italian.
I love a long, wanky conversation with other wankers. Topics such as who was ACDC’s best singer? Or why my father doesn’t believe in the word “mafia”. (Don’t ask, I still don’t understand this). But also about trees and colours and sounds and art and music and books and philosophy. And I love to go deep. But I don’t have a university level of Italian. I don’t have great language around all this.
And then I thought:
This might be an opportunity.
At first I was freaked out. I’ve actually been freaked out for a while. But then I realised:
Maybe it’s just time for me to shut up and listen.
PS. I worked from mum’s house yesterday to keep her company, and I brought my guitar to do some practice when I finished work. So I pull out the axe and lay down some fine old Italian tunes, and mum sings along.
Not long after, she says, “you’re not taking that with you to Italy, are you?” To which I say, “yes, I am.” And mum cries:
Oh my god you’re going to embarass us. People will talk.
PPS. Ciao Gina Lollobrigida. What a joy you have been in the world.