-- whereabouts:
large italian city, pretending to jump onto another cart before to get to the cashier, telling stories, italy falling, giving the thing for sure, not emotionally, documenting the fall too personally, or maybe not documenting it, 'cause italian, dismayed, in english since the fallers are not concerned

-- individual:
been many things, aspired to be many things, used to frequent arts, writing, looking at himself in the mirror and making faces, lately a gardener? sort of. still daring to write, occasionally.

I though you were going to write about Italy
...instead I find all sorts of blathering, nothing specific about what's actually wrong with Italy. C'mon!
You can describe Italy not necessarily by compiling yet another rough guide, or by listing all the political stances you may feel for, but by just letting the profile of this falling peninsula to emerge slowly, post after post, as the natural irremediable background. That's the idea.

Here I read opinions about Italy I don't agree with
...I have been in Italy, it's a lovable country, people are nice, food unbelievable. It's not falling at all.
That's because the place where you come from probably already fell even below.
Or may be you're right, Italy is plowing somehow. It all depends from where you look at things. From that small restaurant in that small old eastern italian city, for instance, Italy didn't look that fucked up then. The world was thinkable from there. But you can't stay at the table waiting for your cuttlefish and icy white wine all your life. Can you.

Will you digest for me in a short phrase what is the essence of Italy's destiny?
...it's for a paper I have to prepare for tomorrow.
Sure. You're welcome to consider this post. The essence is all in that little quote.

Are you italian?
...your english is bad enough you could be from anywhere.
I am italian. Italian as the river Po.
Italian, what a curious word. Did you know, 'Italia' means land of the calfs (the young cows) "terra dei vitelli"? The ancient people of the Itali, some thousands years ago, had in the calf their totemic animal. Nonetheless, I kind of decided to become a vegetarian. I have problems with all these corpses to eat. But that's another story.
About the english language, it's all self-taught, the school didn't helped. Plus I commonly use a Zanichelli italian-english vocabulary and other dictionaries. I never use Google, Bablefish or any online translators.

Why do you write in english-american then?
...do you love the United States so much? Are you imperialist?
I fell in love with the english language like everyone else, by listening to pop music. Superbe novels, compelling poetry, internet, traveling, some distaste and anxiety for the new world order: all this lend a hand and helped to enforce a feeling toward the part of the english-american language and culture I like (...)
I guess I write in english because I don't want to be read just by italians, and get stuck in all the too well-known tirades and polemics of the italian situation. It's all getting old.

Are you sure?
... you don't seem so sure.
um, all right. I write in English because I am too inhibited to write in my own language, okay? It is like if all the friends and foes, all the relatives and lovers that could read my words, and all the meanings of meanings are looming behind my shoulders for every conscious phrase I stutter in my mother tongue. I can't help it.