I am in the Delta airlines lounge at the airport. James Carville is here with his wife and family. I told him to “keep kicking ass and that we need him now more than ever.” We shook hands and talked a bit. He told me “It will all be o.k. It’ll work out fine,” in that cool accent he has. Nice guy. Made me feel better about our current state of insanity in the states. As if maybe he knows something that the rest of us don't. I am exhausted. Stayed up all night again last night. I am filled with a deep sense of mourning right now which I will just ride out. I will miss cappuccino and stylish shoes and everyone looking so fashionable all the time, and beautiful Italian girls, and this easy life. I will miss all the friends I have made while I have been here. I will miss the beautiful and musical language of Italian. but one thing I will not miss is the smell of second hand smoke everywhere I go. This is one thing about Europe that is not so enjoyable. [When I used to smoke I never could understand the incessant pleas from those around me to not smoke around them. but now I understand. Perspective.] I will be happy to breathe in fresh clean air. Tomorrow is Monday. I am supposed to wake up and start working to market and promote the new cd. Its been a while. I have to build an entirely new empire starting tomorrow. Gotta start from scratch almost. Don't even want to think about it. For now I am going to sip this glass of Champaign and just chill and write. 

I'm sitting with this middle aged business man and he makes some comment to me about James Carville after he sees me talking to him. At first I don't even acknowledge him or his comment. I just ignored him. He persists. I say ‘you must be one of those.’ “One of whats?” he asks. “One of the very few left on the other side,” I say and look back to my laptop screen. I didn't feel like hearing some crap from the right. Its too early in the morning. Finally we end up having a little debate about James. I say he's interesting and at least he’s saying something, unlike a lot of the no substance lip service we hear from the right these days. We have some fun. He's more interesting than I take him for at first. It turns out he used to own this huge two and half billion dollar company that included lens crafters, Jennifer convertibles, petit sophisticate, and a bunch of other companies. So the guy is just sickly wealthy. You just cannot beat the first class lounge for these kinds of experiences. You never know who you're talking to, so always be polite. Mom always says that. So we’re going back and forth. He tells me he’s 75 years old. He looks no more than fifty five. I ask him what the secret is. [Although being worth millions of dollars is obviously a good start] He holds up his bloody Mary and exclaims “alcohol!” I've been drinking it all my life. It preserves the organs in the body.” Mind you, its ten in the morning right now. This guy is funny. One of those ‘seen it all done it all super rich business man’ types. He asks me what the name of my group is. I tell him. he tells me he will force his kids and grandkids to buy our cds and not burn them or take the music from the Internet. He has been following the declining revenues in the music industry for the last few years in the wall street journal. Tells me all the companies are selling out as fast as they can. “No way to make money in a few years in your business they say.” He says he can only imagine if (one of the businesses he used to own) all of a sudden people could just go and steal a pair of shoes if they wanted to and no body could stop them. Tells me that frank Sinatra is the best artist in the world. All went downhill after him. He's been married for like forty five years. He recommends to me not to get married till I am in my mid fifties. Wait as long as you can,’ he says. I tell him after the experiences I had last night and on this trip I agreed with him for now, but I think about having a beautiful wife and kids all the time. I can’t stop it. He tells me “it can wait. Trust me. You're young. Enjoy it now while you can.”  

Last night I spent with Giovanna again. Walked the streets of Rome smoking hashish and talking about how lucky we were that we met but how funny it was that we met four days before I decided to leave Rome. She drove me around in her car. Listening to the same song by red hot chili peppers new CD over and over again because her player was stuck on repeat and we couldn’t get it off. Something about a zephyr... she was driving. Would back into walls and smash into other cars in front of us. it was quite insane. The whole time Anthony singing the same damn song over and over again. Then we went to dinner. Laughing hysterically at the table with the waiter who was also baked. One thing you realize once you ‘get in’ with the people is just how many of them do recreational drugs. Maybe even more than in the states, which would be hard to top. Anyway, we managed to order in between the laughter. Giovanna spills her beer. Supposedly bad luck. Rubs it on our necks like perfume for good luck. Huge plates of different kinds of bruscetta arrive. From artichokes to olive pesto, to tomatoes, different cheeses. Holy shit I am going to miss this place. one of the tastiest items is bruschetta with pork lard on it. just the fat. incredibly delicious. Someone tells me the Italians live the longest out of all the European countries. I actually don't believe it. I believe I have heard the eastern Europeans live longer like in Russia or something. Check on it sometime. but the Mediterranean diet promotes long healthy living they say. Salami prosciuto cheese pasta meats wine and bread everyday. Go figure.

We go back to my place. She undresses and jumps in the shower. I stay out and pack my stuff for my trip home. She comes out in a towel. I am playing my guitar. We sing and laugh. She is walking and jumping around naked on the bed while I am playing. In between songs, I shove big bites of Belgium chocolate into my mouth while this naked Italian girl is dancing around the room. Am I in heaven? Starts smoking. her dark tan skin is all wet. And so is her hair. She is so beautiful. So Italian. “I think you think I smoke and drink too much. Don't you?” she asks me in a very thick accent. By now I don't recognize when we are speaking in Italian or in English. For the last four days it has been a strange hybrid of both languages intermingled together like in Miami with Spanglish. Spanish if we need to go there for translation of a word we maybe don’t know in English or Italian. She also speaks French as well. These European girls. She is walking around the room up and down on the bed holding her cigarette so perfectly. I keep playing my guitar, watching her. The towel keeps falling. She is beautiful. I am singing all my new Italian songs. Which it turns out is apparently hilarious, although not intentionally so. “I will not lie to you. You are right. I'm not used to girls being like you. Three joints and three drinks a night. perhaps you could slow it down just a bit... Its not so typical in America anymore. We are very just say no these days... But I don't care. You just be how you are. Maybe I will wait a few years for you to get it out of your system.” “And maybe I will wait a few years for you to come back to the real world.” And she draws on her cigarette like form some movie. [she is referring to numerous different things she considers very strange about me, one of them when she asked me at dinner if I wanted her mailing address and I asked her ‘what for?’ she's says ‘so you can write to me.’ and I'm like ‘Write to you? why would I write to you?! we’ll email.’ and she doesn’t even have a computer. This debate goes on and on about the old world which she thinks is better and the new world I live in which is too fast and doesn’t afford enough quality time. a different story for later....]

I take out my camera and start filming her. She is very relaxed. Very sweet and innocent but very fiery and passionate. her towel falls off. I keep on taking pictures. She falls on me and pretty soon we are making the most passionate love. The Italian girls are truly the best lovers. But I cannot generalize so readily and completely because I have not tasted every single country yet. But there’s still time. And there is this passion in the Italian girls that is amazing. This sexual energy that is incomparable. And thoroughly fulfilling. It really kind of lifts you to another world. Same thing with the Italian stallion back in the states. Amazing. we would get lost in it for hours. The stallion could make me cum from just her tongue in my ear. Seriously. like some sort of a sexual goddess or something...

Afterwards, she goes into the shower to wash herself off. I follow her. We spend a few minutes in the shower. She is like a little child. All smiles. She jumps in my arms. “It is so beautiful. It is so romantic. You and me here. Now. Like this. You an American singer. And me an Italian girl from the country. Here with you. Teaching you about Italy. And we are so happy. Isn't it beautiful?” My heart feels light and happy, like a butterfly. I feel so good from her cute little wet body holding me. her dark eyes. her passion and her bubbly attitude in the face of me about to leave her forever. How is life so good? God it is so good to me. “Maybe I should stay for another week” “No. you leave tomorrow. It is better that way. this is just perfect the way it is with us. we are lucky. I will see you in my dreams Fishy.”

The night goes on and on like this. drinking, playing the guitar. Making love, taking lots of pictures. And her incessant smoking. finally I ask her “Can you please open a window if you are going to smoke in this room. I don't want this smoke going in my fucking lungs and affecting my voice.” I scream. “fucking fucking fucking. Why do you Americans always say fucking all the time?” she says. “I'm sorry. I am so happy that I keep forgetting about the window.” She opens a window, throws away her cigarette, and jumps on me again. wow. I am very happy too. I am exhausted but I still stay up all night with her. Staring into her dark eyes. and listening to her ramble on and on and me barely understanding a fucking word she says. I really couldn’t have gotten more out of my trip. Walking through Rome everyday I think ‘I could die now. I am so happy with my life. I am so happy with everything I have experienced already since I was born. Life has been so good so far for me. the good and the bad. All of it wonderful. If I die in Rome bury me here in Italy with my great grandparents. I will be happy to go at any time. Life has been very very good.’  

Thought about it a lot the last few days. And last night after Giovanna left. Starting to realize that you aren't going to find some girl who is “the most beautiful in the world” necessarily because really there are just too many beautiful women in the world. Just too many. No way to make love to all of them in one lifetime. One would need many lifetimes for this...

God do I love making love to beautiful girls. Kissing them and caressing their face and watching them speak and smile and laugh.