The Life of Gabriel

 

THE ETERNAL LUXURY

 

Expensive shoes? Expensive bags from luxury brands? Pure silk shirts? Moisturizing creams that will make your skin looks lighter? Watches that look like James Bond’s ones, so technological? Or that expensive three-course dinner at a trendy restaurant?

Is there anything  in the luxury empire, for us, ordinary people? Well, there’s a little bit of everything. We haven't managed to grow money yet, so we are satisfied with samples of luxury.

Luxury, for me, is being able to be what I want to be. In other words, to be authentic in order to state my wills and fulfill my needs.

If it is remarkable for you to drink champagne without the slightest pretext, then this is luxury for you. And if it's incredible, on a cold day, to have a cozy ginger tea, or even have the freedom to choose an ice cream, this is also luxury. Like the leather boots I bought ten years ago… I still wear them.

Different and simple can also put together a luxurious combination. To have a collection of CDs or masturbate when times are hard. Luxury can be praying in the church near Regent’s Park or in a small chapel in a small town in Calabria, Italy.

To watch a play like I did last week, with Clive Owen, The Night of The Iguana. A painting by an unknown painter who has a gallery a block away from my flat and is decorating my living room; the movie Notting Hill that I love to see a thousand times over and over, a book I borrowed, Between the Acts, by Virginia Woolf, and my most libertarian poems are my luxuries.

Luxury also means the exceptional, the extraordinary, what transcends, excites you and makes a big difference in the banality of things. Luxury is an abstract noun. it's a quality. Would it always be tangible? It is discernable and full of paradoxes, as I told you. And our life is full of discrepancies that give us more charm. Or does it determine our differences?

Things can be big or small, soft or intense. The car. The house key. The last matchstick when we need a fire. It may even be my cologne that no one else notices at the end of the day, but it livens up my morning after the shower.

Luxury is not necessarily an imperium. They are personal pleasures and experiences that seem so unique: to quench a voracious will, like spending the holidays on heavenly island. Luxury is the ticket to meet your family who lives far away. Luxury is the place where I rest with that old pillow of mine and sleep happily. It may be my struggle to say “there is someone here” or “it’s occupied”.

Luxury can be that pooch love that I found today when quickly turning the corner, and  felt as I was being kissed deeply on the lips.

Gabriel Colombo

All Rights reserved

 

THE LIFE OF GABRIEL

 

RAY-BAN

The nights are of waking dreams. It is summer, so we have that feeling of being able to enjoy the simplest things. Summertime is a measure of how less stressed and happier we are going to be. The opposite of when it's cold, and we get introspective.

But how to enjoy the summer? It depends. When you're single, they say summer is the best time to start a romance. Time when everyone is at the parks, bars and streets, the nights are brighter and longer lasting.

I have friends who, since the winter, have been eager to plan what  they will do during the summer season, when we burn in the morning and burn at night. Let's face it: everyone gets more sociable and the songs are always more vibrant: samba, reggae… so many tropical fruits and promises of dating.

In the months of winter, the question is: “how did we spent the summer? Was it a beautiful escape from bureaucratic, boring and ordinary life?

The summer weather is generally hot, very hot, with a light breeze, sand, flowers, beautiful and warm eye sights. A long-awaited season, replaced by the most beautiful of them: autumn, where dreams fall like leaves and vows become accurate.

I was born in a small town, in the south hemisphere. When it was November, we moved to the beach house, where there was no phone and much less mobile. I used to bath in the sea, learn how to fish with my father and to cook with my mother. I had that feeling of being able to enjoy the simplest things in life. Living without a dream is like going to the beach and not seeing the sea.

Again, summer is a measure of how much less stressed and happier we are. And how are we doing over this summer? I asked myself: what did I do? How much fun did I have? Truth be said: I didn't go to terraces to drink colourful drinks, I didn't travel to Sicily, I didn't get a tan by the Richmond River. The most I did was to go to Primmrose Hill on the hottest day of the year.

I forgot to take my pocket fan and the water bottle for sale were all warm. I also didn't see any bold girl doing topless. Either way, have the fun you choose, and don't forget the sunblock.

If you feel embarrassed, wear glasses that will show you the way: in shadow or in light. That's the most accurate thing I've ever read, among the many blah blah blah. And speaking of summer, outside London is still beautiful. I'll see you.

GABRIEL COLOMBO

EDITOR / JOURNALIST & CONTENT WRITER

 

 

 

THE LIFE OF GABRIEL

 

AGAINST LOVE

I have noticed that among my friends, almost everyone is getting married, at least those who have the same age as me. Those who still have no commitments don’t understand the married ones; they are not in such a hurry and would like to enjoy a little more the single life.

There is an implicit obligation to get married before we reach the thirties, do you agree? The feeling I have is that, after thirty, you either remain single for the rest of your life or there is a rush to find a soulmate before forty. Seems like there is a sense of despair and everyone has to exchange wedding rings as urgently as possible. What a lack of poetry.

They are all guided by an idiotic logic: from the age of 15 to 25, they had the time to study and also to enjoy life and its pleasures; everyone hung out with  everyone without commitment or despair. From 26 to 35 years old, everyone is concerned with their jobs and careers. So it seems that after that it’s too late for romance and children so don't even think about having them, so the expenses are huge! And people forget about falling in love.

However, does getting married before 30 mean happiness? I read an article in a women's magazine that said yes, it is a guarantee of happiness. She wrote that she married at that age not out of love, but that it is gradually emerges…  you discover love along the marriage. But that’s not the worst: she also wrote that, if there is no love in your marriage, it may be a good financial deal. Which brings me to scammers, self-interested human beings that only think about their own interests.

As a counterpoint of getting married before 30, she also talked about getting married at the age of 50. She said that, at that age, you have already experienced everything, you do not have so much time ahead, you have traveled enough and you will not be willing to commit to a daily routine along someone else.

Was this absolute or relative truth? I think she is against love.

It is outrageous to think that way. There is no better time to get married. Love will happen when you least expect it. And this writer kind of puts people in their 50s as already  walking to their graves. As if each day there was not a surprise and unexpected situations couldn’t happen.

If it happens at 30, good. If it happens at 50, very good.

Forged that talk which says love is out of fashion and will probably never come back. In any stage of life, it will be like a breath of fresh air to open your lungs, an eye drop, a balm for your soul. Everything is more beautiful with love. I know, I am very romantic.

But there is no right age to be in love. When it happens, accept it with an open heart. So, no age limit for love, dear columnist. It may show itself when we’re 15, 20, 30, 40, 50, 60, 70, 80... And it's really worth it.

 

All Rights reserved to GABRIEL COLOMBO @ Copyright

 

Chronicle from the City

 

TEASING MY COCK

Image: Unsplash

  

Floating between two spaces: the real world and the virtual one. Apps can be good to find texts, but hardly to find people. One man noticed that he was three steps away from meeting three different women, through a dating app. That man was me. Some want dating, others − most of them − want sex.

I never considered sex, though. I understood that anyone looking for romance, will live tormented hourly messages. I wanted a little love, but I kept sucking my own thumb. Or better: mints.

I had a bad sore throat with that second 34 degree centigrade heat wave, worsened by the scorching sun in Hyde Park and, as a bonus, a cold bath in the lake, swimming with my friends, the swans. Do they have these dating apps too?

Then, I fell in bed, with a headache and a little fever: I got better taking some aspirin with water. Even when I said I was sick, these people behind the screen insisted too much. I had texted my friends about loneliness and being single. I found that would try a dating app. Cool.

We are too complex to be tempted with shallow text messages. Something like: “Fancy a drink?” or  “Where are you now?”. The word “now” I like: it shows objectivity, but it also feels like  we are as available as animals in a zoo. I had trouble eliminating my profile from this bloody app.

I am unable to flirt on the street, at the bank or while picking grapes and tomatoes at the supermarket. There is nothing more degrading than someone asking how you are and what fantasy do you have, simply like that.

I used it for an hour. Then I wrote: bye. So, I put the mobile under a pillow and fell asleep, thank God. I woke up to about ten messages in my mailbox the other day.  What did I do to receive such karma?

I just tried to see if my soulmate was in the middle of that virtual crowd. But I got a throbbing headache. I went to a technician, one of those who configure  mobile phones so I could uninstall the app. Then I noticed that I had paid for my peace. Is this virtual masturbation fascinating? Not for me. Sorry.

The vulgarization of a noble feeling became so usual that loving became a fleeting sensation. The people behind these resources are losers that never, in life, had the courage to experience real love.

At the heart of these dramas, there are heavier problems, such as  drug abuse, for example. But I’m still looking for a romance. What a wrong route. However, I’m glad for deleting the app, so I could go along living my dream. I blame the fever for it.

I will never agree my soul to be seen, felt and touched. As a singer called Anitta said: “Weak loves don't deserve my time.”

 Written by Gabriel Colombo

All rights reserved @copyright

Chronicle of The City

 

ICE CREAM IS GRACEFUL WHEN IT MELTS

Melt it down (you're gonna have to eventually, anyway) - I, recommend getting your heart trampled on to anyone, yeah .

 Girls love bad boys. Those guys who come at you. That hold tightly to your waist with one hand, while the other holds the steering wheel of the car. Those who answer everything with one word, and never say sorry. And with a snap of your fingers, they transform your ordinary life into a big event… such a whirlwind.

You women do that. Go to the beauty salon, buy fashion magazines. Put on make-up and wax yourselves. Fix your hair and get well dressed. For what? To find a wild guy who messes you up and gives you what you want: emotion.

Nothing better than to be attracted by someone that gives you a breath of fresh air and makes you feel the lady from the movie. You like that guy who makes fun of your blondness. You complain about him, calling him a crook and a thug, but he's the best part of your life. The bad boy doesn't necessarily like a woman who wears little cloth and a fringed jacket. He likes a demure girl who has a rich father and a glass heart. As soon as he gets the chance, he'll break everything in half and leave, just like that, without much explanation. So you will find a silly muggle man who will support you full time, you will get married and spend your whole life complaining about the boredom, monotony or stress of having children with a prick who works at NatWest.

Bad boys never go back to the crime scene. In real life they are out there, infiltrated. Covered with some leather pieces, just like the movies. In real life you will feel them through kisses that take your breath away. Or if they are a little obvious, they will give clues of themselves with the roaring engines of their poisoned cars. And they make you taste this poison it was the sweetest slice of cake. And you tidy way of living  will awaken his appetite for destruction. The heads of these guys work with the following logic: ice cream is funny only when it melts, fire is only cool if everything burns completely.

They will delight you with borderline moments so,  afterwards, you will love to remember them and talk about them with your friends. You would like to break some rules and never have a script with him. And it makes you feel younger, dear woman: it turns you into the schoolgirl who folded her skirt to get the attention of the boys, and that gave you the pleasure to taste the forbidden, as well as smoking out of sight and pretending that you went to class. It is not dangerous to relate to a bad boy. It is really dangerous, though, not knowing in which compartment of your heart-shaped box you will put him.

Written bt Gabriel Colombo.

All Rights reserved to the Author.

@Copyright

 

Chronicles of the City

 

                             CHEAP THRILL

                 Nothing spreads faster than a rumour

image: Unsplash

What's the best gossip you've ever heard? Everyone has heard that Mick Jagger dressed up as a woman in the 60s. And that Marianne Faithfull, irresistibly, caused the butterfly effect at night. You should already have heard about it. Ask them for details.

I know of a friend who screams “That´s Me”, at the climax, when having sex. In my years of Law University, we knew of a colleague, a 52-year-old lady that always wore red, started studying Law for self-defense when summoned to court: she had murdered her husband.

Most of us know that gossip can be much more than a hobby and a way to overcome the dullness of everyday life, a way to make conversation at coffee  or cigarette break. So, it saddens me to say that I, too, sometimes like this act of moralistic negligence. However, we like to hear the peculiarities of others.

I heard people had gossiped about me and: they said on a social network that I'm thinner and taller than I seem to be on photos. Gossip is just a tool to distract people who have nothing to do. One has to admire those few of us who still remain with noble hearts. I swear: I find gossip less and less fun and useful.

These days, I heard about someone that had a strange sexual tendency and borderline behavior in personal relationships, with major flaws in her workplace. After a while, the frisson about it lost fun. I didn’t understand what was going on while everyone laughed. The person surely have problems. Malicious comments are like news headline, they don’t offer many explanations, much less the right to defense or even conclusions.

As I and all of us are becoming more mature, I am convinced of my affability itself. And when I hear a gossip about someone, I remember that all of us have bills to pay and a floor to clean. We have nightmares and problems.

Anyone who gossips with you will gossip about you. It is difficult to get rid of this situation.

When I hear about something interesting or curious, the first thing that crosses my mind is: “I'm going to spread the news”. After all, it’s Friday, we all deserve to laugh. Then, my conscience weighs: “Gabriel, you shouldn't”. And my alter ego called Dear Lord by alerting me that we have many other things to think about.

Gossip should remain restricted drunken conversations inside a pub. I don't want to feel powerful while speaking at 7pm after the first or the second pint. I will try to control myself not to gossip − for about 50 minutes. Who are we to judge? Everyone lives the way they can. Then I looked at the clock and it’s only been five minutes. I feel bored. “So, what is it that everyone talks about?”.

Written by Gabriel Colombo. All rights reserved to the Author.