Every now and again, I pop in here to "speak my mind" or share what's going 'round in there. But basically, it's just something else to help me put off what I ought to be doing in the first place.
I write, and I share what I write. I want to be published. I hope to be published. If you like what you read here, let me know. If you don't... Well, you're free to leave, ain't ya?
WARNING! TODAY'S POST FEATURES SOME RATHER REVEALING PHOTOS OF MEN - IF YOU ARE OFFENDED BY NUDITY, SPECIFICALLY GLIMPSES OF THE "MALE ANATOMY," PLEASE CLOSE THIS PAGE.
Okay, now that's out of the way...
Sadly, I'm short on time this week (and next), so I'm offering this plethora of delights from the rugby arena! Most of these come from the "Gods of the Stadium" calendar and a couple are screenshots from the DVD of the making of the calendar. Some you've seen, and some (hopefully) you haven't - either way, enjoy! :)
1) Sylvain Nicolas
2) Julien Arias
3) Christophe Dominici
4) Matthieu Nicolas * I'm pretty sure...but it's hard to focus on the face, no?
5) Andrea Marcato
6) Christophe Samson
7) Alexandre Albuoy
8) Thomas Bartolini
9) Geoffroy Messina
10) Remy Martin
11) I'm not sure which player this is. But, he's on a leash. Rawr!
12) Gonzalo Canale
13) Juan Martin Hernandez
And you know what? That's not all of 'em, today.
Because even with all that delicious eye candy, I want to share just one more.
A personal favorite, if you will...
And for a change of pace, he's in his trousers. (pity...)
Sergio Parisse You didn't seriously think I'd do one of these without my Sergio, did you???
Okay, I'll admit it. I'm picky. You'd never know that looking at my posts here, most days, but I am. I don't like beards. Or mustaches. I just don't.
Still, in recent years, I've found myself being won over into the "Scruff ain't so bad" camp. Who knew it could happen? I've always preferred clean-shaven fellows (my hubby is divine when he's clean as a whistle, don'tcha know?) with strong jawlines and the confidence to show 'em off.
But now...? Well, I must share a handful of the blokes who've got me considering switching teams. (But my hubby must remain clean - otherwise, the Clark Kent resemblance would be lost, and besides, a beard would provide too much drag when he's riding his bike!)
Today, I give you: 13 Guys Who Look Good With Facial Hair!
(In no particular order)
1) Viggo Mortensen - actor
2) Hugh Jackman - actor
3) Gale Harold - actor
4) Luigi Lo Cascio - actor
5) Pierfrancesco Favino - actor
6) Ewan MacGregor - actor
7) Eddie Izzard - actor/comedian
8) Johnny Depp - actor
9) Raoul Bova - actor/model
10) Alessio Boni - actor
11) Sean Bean - actor
12) Alan Rickman - actor
13) Kim Rossi Stuart - actor
And, onward, ladies, for a bit of fun...
All the 13'ers today were actors, so I've gone with an athlete for today's eye candy.
I took my very own screen pic for this week, too.
I hope you enjoy:
(Oh, my... look at those thighs...) Gonzalo Canale - rugby player
Okay, I ran short on ideas this week, so I'm going to do 13 Italian Films (Worth Reading the Subtitles For)
Here they are, in no particular order...
1) Chiedimi se Sono Felice - "Ask Me if I'm Happy"
Not only is this flick hilarious, but oftentimes subtitles are irrelevant. That's the great thing about comedies, isn't it? This is a great film, and along with the title track and soundtrack by Samuele Bersani (my muse, let's be honest), I was inspired to give my current WIP the same name. (That's allowed, right? Okay. Good.)
2) Pane e Tulipani - "Bread and Tulips"
Another comedy, this time a more direct "Romantic Comedy" about a housewife/mother who has become part of the scenery, as far as her family is concerned. In fact, they don't even notice when she misses the tour bus home from a holiday! After finagling a ride, she impulsively runs away to Venice, where she finds a job, a new love, and a new purpose in life. No, that hasn't given away the ending. ;)
3) Anche Libero Va Bene - (known as) "Along the Ridge" in the English markets
Kim Rossi Stuart starred in and directed this film about a dysfunctional family learning to cope with the coming and going of their mentally unstable mother. Her disappearances and reappearances continually tear the family apart, leading to more trouble for the angry and sometimes openly raging father. Meanwhile, the son seeks a better life for himself through a wealthy friend who lives nearby. Sounds depressing, but really it isn't.
4) Romanzo Criminale - "Crime Novel"
This is one of those odd films which prove to be both commercially successful and have cult popularity. Based on a true story, this film shows the rise and fall of a small group of friends who take on the mafia in Rome to become a powerful crime family in their own right. Powerful performances from Kim Rossi Stuart, Pierfrancesco Favino (who won the Italian equivalent of the Oscar for his performance), and Claudio Santamaria (among others) bring this compelling story to life. The end of all involved proves that crime isn't glamorous, and the innocent pay a price, as well.
5) Pinocchio
Roberto Benigni retold this classic in his own unique way - staying true to the story and bringing fantastic performances from all around. Sure, you're skeptical - how can a man Benigni's age portray the titular wooden boy? Just trust me on this - he can. And if that doesn't do it for you, we have Kim Rossi Stuart as Lucignolo, who makes the mischevious boy's turning into a donkey honest-to-goodness tragic. Forget Disney - this is the real Pinocchio. No lie! ;-)
6) La Vita e' Bella - "Life is Beautiful"
Simply put, there's a reason Benigni won the Oscar for this. Simply put, Life is Beautiful, even when it isn't.
7) La Tigre e La Neve - "The Tiger and the Snow"
A lesser-known film by Benigni, but a wonderful story of love and devotion, and what we're willing to do to save those we love. Watch it and don't cry - I challenge you!
8) La Stanza del Figlio - "The Son's Room"
I resisted watching this for two years, because I knew it was a sad story. Still, I'm glad I finally did. A family struggles with the sudden accidental loss of their son, and discover secrets he'd kept from them all along. Surprisingly, those very secrets might help them all to heal.
9) La Meglio Gioventu' - "The Best of Youth" (US title)
This is actually more a miniseries than a film, but if you watch for it, you can find it on Sundance Channel in the US. The series follows the lives of two brothers, who live their lives through some of the major events in the last thirty years of Italian history. One brother is moved to save a young woman from the cruelties she endures in a mental hospital, and when his plan backfires, he moves on to a life of military discipline in the army and police force. The other brother becomes a doctor, works on behalf of patients' rights in mental hospitals (also inspired by his connection to the same young woman), and becomes linked to the Red Brigades via his politically radical wife. It sounds heavy, but it isn't. It sounds Forrest Gump-ish, but it's not. It's one of the best films produced in Italy in recent years, and well worth the time invested to see it from beginning to end.
10)La Finestra di Fronte - "Facing Windows"
Giovanna is a wife and mother struggling to find her identity. She works two jobs, loves her husband, her two kids, her friend and coworker, and she has a slight fascination with the man who lives in the building directly across from her. After her husband insists on helping an old man struggling with disorientation, she finds herself taking care of him, instead. Soon, she discovers a World War II era story of forbidden love which mirrors her developing relationship with Lorenzo, the man across the way. Soon she finds that Lorenzo has his own fascination with her, and she is tempted to discover if she really could find a better life with someone else. Sexy, sophisticated, and with an unexpected twist which will leave you debating just what makes a "happy ending," this is a beautifully directed film.
And heck, it's got Raoul Bova in glasses. RAWR!
11) Io Non Ho Paura - "I'm Not Scared"
By turns creepy and thought-provoking, this story of a forgotten 1970's Italy (inspired by real events) will have you jumping out of and then hanging on the edge of your seat, by the climax. Young Michele makes a gruesome discovery in the hills near his home: a dead body of a young boy, around his age. Which moves. And speaks. In reality, the body is another young boy, a kidnap victim, who is the son of wealthy Milanese parents. As Michele struggles to understand how this boy got there, and why he can't seem to leave his prison, he soon discovers there's much, much more to the story than he'd ever dreamed. Quite literally, nothing is as it seems, and he is determined to set things right.
12) I Soliti Ignoti - "The Usual Unknowns" (US title: "Big Deal on Madonna Street")
A true Italian classic, and one of the funniest films I've ever seen. EVER. When a gang of bumbling misfits attempts to steal a fortune from a jewelry store safe, absolutely NOTHING goes right. From the planning to the final attempt, it's just one goofy mistake after another, which could well leave you breathless with laughter. This is the original "Heist Gone Wrong" film, and has been remade twice - once as "Crackers" starring Donald Sutherland, and more recently as "Welcome to Collinwood" starring William H. Macy (in the Marcello Mastroianni role), Sam Rockwell and George Clooney. Trust me, go with the original. (and I loved "Collinwood" too!)
13) Le Chiavi di Casa - "The Keys to the House"
Inspired by the book "Born Twice", this story is about a father (Kim Rossi Stuart) reuniting with the disabled son (Andrea Rossi, no relation) he'd abandoned after his wife died in childbirth. Having decided to take his son to Berlin for his therapy, he is dropped into a life vastly different from the one he now lives with his wife and newborn child. As their bond grows, the challenges of caring for a disabled child are revealed in scathing, realistic detail, highlighted by the wisdom and struggle of a sympathetic mother (Charlotte Rampling) of a girl who stays in the same hospital. This is without a doubt one of my favorite films of all time.
No, of course I didn't forget. Scroll down, please.
And, since he's been in demand, as of late...
And since he's a perennial favorite...
And because he doesn't have to be bare to drive us wild...
Okay, y'all... We all have 'em. Those particular photos, images, impressions, whatever, which seem never to fail to inspire us. Whether we're writers or artists or musicians, there's just something about certain images and feelings which drives us to create.
This week, I thought I'd share a handful of mine, and let you see what happened as a result of the inspiration I found. These are in no particular order, however...
1) Riccardo Scamarcio - Actor
It's that time of year again. The days are longer, the sun is hotter, and everyone heads out to the beach or the mountains for some relief from the heat. At least, that's how it works in Italy. And just like last summer, Eros, my sexually ambiguous bagnino (that's lifeguard to the English speakers, eh?) starts asking when I'll tell his story, for a change. In my head, before I'd even considered casting him, I'd described him in my notes like this: "Lean, muscular frame. Tanned from spending full days in the sun. Dark, wavy hair. Brilliant blue eyes. Young. Not awkward, yet lacking a certain self-confidence." Then I saw Riccardo, and I said, "There he is!"
2/3) Daniele Bennati - Cyclist
I have the same situation when cycling season rolls around. (Heh.) Daniele here provides a lot of inspiration, as do several other cyclists. I'm concocting a short story at the moment, but I need a little more research before I can even give the character a name. In the meantime, I'm just gonna enjoy the pics. ...sigh...
4/5) Alessandro Gassman - Actor
Son of the famous (and incredible) Italian actor Vittorio Gassman, Alessandro is not someone I'd thought of for a character until recently. Burbling away in the back of my head are a few plot pots which are leaning toward using his "persona" and having a little fun. Short stories, I think. I hope so, since I'm just wrapping up a novel that's taken nearly two years...
6) Gonzalo Canale - rugby player
No characters here, yet. I just like the pic. :) I don't normally like the bigger guys, but... I mean... DANG, y'all!
7) Julien Arias - Rugby player
This pic reminds me of countless Romance covers, sure... But this is simply a gorgeous example of black/white photography, and is uber-sexy for what it's none-too-subtly hinting at, no?
8/9) Samuele Bersani - Singer/Songwriter
The inspiration for the character of Davide in my current opus, these pics, taken by Monica Silva (whom I adore in her own right) capture that certain something I mentioned at the opening. I find these shots mischevious, sexy and playful all at the same time. I also think they're awfully gosh-darn smart, somehow.
10/11) Luca Argentero - Actor
This shot made me sigh with happiness the first time I saw it. Why? Because, in combination/addition to the shots of Samuele above, I "saw" Davide in it. Somewhere between Samuele and Luca, I find Davide. Neither one of them is him, precisely, but in the nebulous neverland in my head, he's. right. THERE.
This is Luca as I've displayed him before, as eye candy. Yum, no?
12/13) Raoul Bova - Actor
*ahem* Yeah, I don't need a lot of explanation here, do I? The first time I'd seen him and noticed him was in Under the Tuscan Sun. Now I've seen him in other films, interviews, and of course calendars, and I have to say, I like him more and more - and not just as a lust object. Mostly. I think...
BONUS! :) 14/15) Kim Rossi Stuart - Actor
Kim is unusual in that he has come to personify two rather different characters in two different tales: a) Jacopo, the wealthy Venetian charmer who seduces and betrays Emily in Ask Me if I'm Happy, and b) Angelo, the Modenese environmental engineer who courts single mother Chiara in Grand Emilia. Neither pic is precisely the character, and yet, both are spot on in the emotions they invoke in me.
Whenever I look at these pics, I'm inspired anew, and can't wait to get back to work on these stories. I have a lot of work to do, so I'd better get back to it, eh?
And in spite of the plethora of lovelies, this week, I'm going to give you just one more.
Because I wouldn't feel right about it, if I didn't.
'cause it's been a while, and I feel bad for that...
As I write this now, my family are arriving at the funeral home for the family visitation for my father, who passed away last Thursday morning. For a variety of reasons, I could not be there with them.
Needless to say, I am saddened by this. My inability to be with my family at this time is heartbreaking. I don't like the idea of my brother and my sister saying goodbye to our Dad without me.
The last time I saw Dad, I knew it would be the last time. It's one of those things we know in our hearts, one of those things we can't deny no matter how much we want to. And so it was for me.
I hugged him, felt how fragile he was in my arms, and it was all I could do not to burst into tears on the spot. I held it together for him, though.
Then I went to the car and sat and cried until I was sure I'd be able to drive away without incident.
It took a while.
Throughout my drive home to Tennessee (five hours), I would think of him and cry. I didn't want to go. I couldn't bear to stay. I had to return to Italy, too.
I called him at least once a week, every week after that. There were times he couldn't talk. There were times he was too sick, too tired, or sleeping and I didn't wish to disturb him.
Six months ago, at Thanksgiving, while he was in a nursing home recuperating from a bout of illness, his wife told him she wanted a divorce. She refused to let him come home again, and told him he'd have to stay there for good.
His worst fear in the world was that he would die alone in a nursing home. Evidently, she was more than happy to oblige him with this, knowing he'd have no other resources to draw upon.
I was in Italy. My sister was in Florida. My brother - who had a rather estranged relationship with our dad over the years - lived with his wife and they were barely getting by as it was.
Who was going to help Dad? Are you kidding? My brother stepped up to do this duty and did a great job. He and his wife took care of my father for the rest of his days.
As rough as it could be, Dad's humor was often good. Sometimes, when I would ask "How are you, Dad?" he'd answer with "I'm dying. Otherwise, not so bad. How are you?"
I laughed every time. He wanted me to. It was only after getting off the phone that I would break down and let loose the tears. The sound of weakness in his voice was something I just couldn't get used to.
The last time I spoke to him, he was too weak to hold up the phone. My brother had to do it for him.
This wasn't my Daddy. Where did he go?
Where is the man who taught me to read? Who taught me to fish? Who used to sing and dance in the living room while I watched from the sofa? Who had dreamed of being a professional dancer?
Where is the man who built the barbeque on the back patio of the house I grew up in? Who used to go to the Eagles Club, and who played Bingo - and sometimes called it?
Where is the man who once sneaked me out of school to take me to buy a TV - a surprise gift from out of nowhere? Who taught me the right way to hammer a nail?
Where is the man who made the girls in my classes say, "That's your dad? He's so cute!" Who wrote an essay about his home town of Ward, WV, and made me feel so proud that he was a "writer" too?
Where is the man who could devastate me with a word, and lift me up to the Heavens with the same? The man who collected "Fool's Gold" and model cars and, yes, guns too?
Where is the man who took me for rides on his motorcycle and made me feel like I was the most loved daughter in all the world?
Where is the man who was a veteran, an electrician, and a volunteer firefighter who once had a child die in his arms?
I was a Daddy's Girl for my entire childhood, but as I got older, something changed. We lost each other for a long while, after he and my mother divorced. We grew apart, and it hurt him. When he was hurt, he got nasty, and mean.
And so he did with me.
Time changed things, though. Somehow, just in the last few years we reconnected. I forgave him the things he did that hurt me. He opened up to me, and once I'd worked through my own problems and troubles, he was proud of me again.
My last farewell wasn't good enough. But there are no words to convey what he meant to me.
He's still here. He's with me always.
And I'll always be proud that he was my Dad.
Because I always loved him.
Love you forever, Dad.
Miss you forever, too.
Wilbur J. “Bill” Hudson, 75, of Ashland, died Thursday, April 16, 2009, in Our Lady of Bellefonte Hospital. He was born Feb. 22, 1934, in Ward, W.Va., the son of the late Wilbur and Stella Hunley Hudson. He was retired from the Federal Correctional Institution in Ashland and was a member of South Ashland United Methodist Church, Ironton VFW Post 8850, American Legion Post 76 and the DAV in Grayson, Ky. He was a U.S. Navy veteran during the Korean War.
Dad, Mom and my big brother Chris (when he wasn't quite so big).
Survivors include his wife, Jackie Doss Hudson; two sons, Chris (Lisa) Hudson of Grayson and Aaron M. (Valeria) Matthews of Ashland; two daughters, Lisa (Michael) Herbst of Port St. Lucie, Fla., and Kimberly (Alessandro) Hudson of Reggio Emilia, Italy; a sister, Patsy Tucker of Cedar Grove, W.Va.; and five grandchildren, Charles Hudson of Westwood, Ky., Audrey Hudson of Coeburn, Va., Ethan Matthews of Ashland and Kelsey Herbst and Jordan Herbst of Port St. Lucie.
Graveside services will be at 1 p.m. Monday, April 20, 2009, at Golden Oaks Memorial Gardens by the Rev. Raymond Stephens. Burial will be in Golden Oaks Memorial Gardens.
The family will receive friends from 11:30 a.m. to 12:30 p.m. Monday at Miller Funeral Home in Ashland. Military graveside services will be by Ironton VFW Post 8850.
Some of you may have noticed that I didn't do a Thursday Thirteen this week. Some of you already know the reason.
I had been told Wednesday morning that the family were being called in after 9:00 a.m., as the prognosis wasn't good. I spent the day in a fug, yet I managed to finish a chapter, make phone calls, and drag myself out for a dinner which I wound up enjoying quite a lot. (Thanks, Laura.) When I got home, I called back to the States and asked how Dad was doing.
"He's fine. Resting well, sleeping."
I tried to do the same. I finally got in bed around 1:30 a.m. or so, cried, and wondered when "the call" would finally come. I dreamed about my dad, and I dreamed a little about a student I had who passed away suddenly last year.
A strange combo, to say the least, but Luca was the closest I'd come to losing an actual friend. I like to think he was, in a way.
This morning, at around 9:45 a.m. (GMT+1), I sat at my desk trying to distract myself from waiting for "the call." I surfed the 'net. I posted on Romance Divas. I posted on various Thursday Thirteens, trying to think of a topic.
Suddenly, my cat had a strange fit. She flung herself at my closed office door - or more accurately, at the glass panel of it - three times. Three solid hits, hard enough to shake it and scare the heck out of me.
I thought: "Either we're about to have another earthquake, or Dad just left us."
I calmed my heart down, went back to reading and writing and all the rest.
My cell phone rang at 10:18. My mother's number, in Tennessee. It took a moment to register, and once it sank in, I answered (almost). My stepfather was on the other end.
After a few consoling remarks, he said, "We just wanted to let you know as soon as possible."
"What time did he go?" I asked, already knowing the answer.
"3:43 this morning."
This evening, I went out with my husband to run some errands. Nothing vital, but I needed to get out of the house for a few minutes. I was in the car while he was doing something, and I felt a presence next to me, sitting in the driver's seat.
Thanks for coming by Dad. You made it to Italy after all.
This is the underlying thought I have in mind nearly every time I sit down to write, recently. The universe has an impeccable sense of timing, no doubt, as my distractions outside my office reached a peak on April First, this year.
The days are longer, which means my output is suffering. For reasons unbeknownst to me, I write better at night. Now nighttime is farther away, so I'm writing less. But I keep plugging away, trying to tamp down my hatred (yes, hatred) of Spring and Summer long enough to get words on the page/screen/whatever.
Make it all go away.
On April first I got an email stating that my father wasn't expected to make it through the night. He'd been rushed to the ER after the home health nurse discovered his heartbeat was erratic and his breathing was insufficient. He's been sick for a long time, but this was the second time in two weeks he'd been taken to the hospital. The diagnosis on top of his COPD was Congestive Heart Failure. He was treated and sent home the same night. Unbelievable.
The end is coming. We've known that for some time. Still, I felt guilty the next day when I sat down to write and allowed myself to feel, you know, good. But I needed it, and I reckon on some level he'd understand (though I'm sure he'd complain. He always does).
The weekend was okay. He couldn't talk on the phone, but he knew I'd called. I took solace in that.
Sunday we talked very briefly. He was too weak to hold the phone, so my brother held it for him.
I got off the phone and cried. Went to spend time with my husband. Came back to my office a while later, and...?
Make it all go away.
Monday morning I woke up to my husband telling me about the earthquake in L'Aquila. That's about four hours away from here. I had no idea how bad it was, though. I spent the morning online, viewing photos, reading the Italian news for more information.
Then I got another email. My father was in the ER again. He'd fallen and hit his head, was disoriented and unclear. My brother was wracked with guilt for not having noticed sooner the bruise on the back of Dad's head.
They admitted Dad to the hospital, finally. I talked with my brother's wife and she told me Dad was perking up - according to the nurse, he was "his old self again - joking and complaining."
Make it all go away.
This morning I find out that my father is joking and laughing, yes. But he thinks he's at work and doesn't know who people are. (He's been retired for nearly twenty years.) He's talking to people who aren't there, and making references to things no-one can see.
He's in Kentucky. I'm in Italy. Do I go there and see if he pulls through again? Do I stay here and wait to see if he dies? Which is the option I choose?
I close the door and cry. I shower and I cry. I feed the cat, and I cry.
I'm an American living in Italy, struggling to learn the language (four years on) and teaching English part-time at a local language school. I'm married to a beautiful man who I adore (even when I want to strangle him), and I am an aspiring writer. My dreams are simple, really: To live simply and happily, to make my husband happy, and to someday publish my writing.
What more could I want?
