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Rating: "The brain alone creates more health problems than an entire regiment." And there I stopped to probe with the psychic sight that interesting replicant that is our Lory.
I have a trilogy of books that spans between the facetious and the facetious of prejudices (ours), with "serious" peaks of concrete philosophy that unexpectedly leave you speechless. The books in question are: "I Killed Gigi Rizzi" (the one who was with Bardot), "My Name is Evaristo" (about the genius Beccalossi), and, last but not least, this "Pleasure is a Challenge," the inner diary of Loredana.
The title itself provokes reading "October" backwards given the pyrotechnic effect that the ecstasy revealed by the author provokes suddenly: "This is a book I have started many times: hundreds of titles passed through my mind and suddenly they all disappeared. I found a thousand truly original beginnings, but they were scattered in the void of my impossible memory"... BOOOM!!!
I always suspected that the Veronese had some particular psychic gifts, in addition to those from "gorilla": "I had to rediscover myself. That day I decided I would no longer read books and that in my free time I would do sports. My life was a book." And what did Gurdjieff say during the years of the Prieuré but the same thing? The Caucasian no longer read books and began writing his own.
"I made a promise to myself; tomorrow I will already be at the test. Tomorrow, always tomorrow." And what is this if not Svevo's Zeno: "The confidence to overcome any threat of misfortune that terrifies me is forgotten in the trust of knowing how to avoid it" (here it's Zeno Cosini speaking). After all, "Tomorrow" promised Amanda Lear.
It is clear that the blunders we encounter "on the way" of reading are also lovable, but if a vortex manifests itself like the feelings Lory confesses, the dizziness includes even the kitsch that life, in its materiality, offers us: "Time only ages mediocre things, enriching the others."
Enchanting is the feminine sweetness that this woman possesses. I remember a lover of mine who, seen like this, didn't have much to attract... She had a line of men at the door, was loving, was reassuring, was a woman who made you feel welcomed in your nature, who encouraged you to always return to her alcove, who cradled your partner’s masculine part in bliss and all his millions of spermatozoa.
So is the Del Santo, with her provoked swerves to Khashoggi, muse at the right moment of a Clapton dazzled by this "lady of Verona," much more so than Bjorn Borg with that other Loredana.
The troubled childhood (with birth in a stable) and the misfortune that befell her doubly with her children only increase my admiration for having brought out a strength to continue, something I would not know how to find, that strength to continue if a child dies, let alone two. And it is not optimism nor superficiality nor even egoism, it is a level of understanding the "everything happens" and trying to transform it into evolution, even when a heavy price is presented to us.
"How beautiful the all-white landscape! The snow manages to give an artistic touch to everything, and in the large illuminated park that I observe, magical, fairy-tale visions are created that I would like to photograph and imprint in every corner of my mind." Lory, after all, saw that nuisance in the snow but, endowed with a superior sensitivity, she does not communicate it to us, remaining in a taken-for-granted aesthetic, fundamental for preserving future erections. She knows perfectly well that the little one does not want problems: ... "and I, who am a magician in awakening moribund bodies, see the possibility of a second reaction."
How could she not be the mistress of that "ascending" gravitational force, in addition to having an unexpected tantric vision regarding sex?: "I, on the other hand, believe there is nothing more intriguing than experiencing absolute exaltation without being touched in the nerve points."
Loredana consciously and unconsciously mystifies: "I still don't understand; sometimes I'm a bit stupid... In reality, I don't do it for others, but for myself".
Thus the soul of the esotericist inevitably emerges: "I always pause to think about the greatness of the universe. The sky seems to me the true universal power, the true essence of our existence, which is therefore dominated by emptiness." However!
It is a continuation of big things that come out, big things: "What level are you on? Have you ever asked yourself? Can you demonstrate having tried to come out of hibernation?" Socratic maieutics, and then Plato's cave! And it's not over, there’s still the stumble in that "do what thou wilt shall be the whole of the law" of Crowleyan memory: "I would like to decode evil. After all, I like what I want". Then to recover the way to Eden: "We are few, we have particular perceptions, and it is precisely being misunderstood that makes us stronger. We fear nothing. My goodness is unlimited... I want to try to earn paradise". Do you understand?
Far-sighted and prophetic, she points out the path of truth in not accepting genetic mutations, today damnably current: "Integrity is needed, a healthy DNA"...
"It is only what we consider that distresses us". Here, the book does not "distress" because the author has reached the sacred art of acknowledging things, leaving unexpected freedom to the reader.
"The Lady" has visually demonstrated, especially with that web series, what it means to be inside reality alongside those suspended and dilated and absent times that only Joyce and few others have been able to disintegrate.
An alien telenovela opens up a "open sesame" to the miserable part that belongs to us and, obscenely, it feeds us in the throat staging a choking strangulation of our cheap aesthetic beliefs. And here our soubrette offers us a bandage to cover our eyes and in the non-vision of darkness see with faith glimpses of the invisible that surrounds us.
The confession is without filters and does not wink outside, they are solitary thoughts for herself and we, participating by chance, silently thank the sharing.
"Many things happen in the dark".
Hurray for Lory, may God bless her...
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