NyLon! – chapter 10

Today the phone woke me up. Nahid asked me if I will vote for her in the election of the PPC of the electoral constituency. The PPC is not some People’s Party of Communism, but the Prospective Parliamentary Candidates who the party’s enrolled members are called to choose. In short the primaries. Bullshit, we should end with all these PPC who call and send text messages to you, making instead the things simpler as I am learning from Italian radicals: the candidates are selected by their leader Pannella and you can be sure that if your telephone rings it’s only to ask you for money, rather than Nahid pouring out her curriculum of enthusiasm and motivation, managing workload, good communication skills and ability to listen with patience. I listen with patience and sadly say no to Nahid, explaining that I have already chosen to vote for Gary because he has been involved with me in a secret operation of the party in order to infiltrate us in the Italian radicals. How comes – Nahid gets angry - there is under way a secret operation in order to infiltrate in the Italian radicals and I don’t know about it? Nahid, I told her, it doesn’t sound strange to me if in infiltrating us in the Italian radicals it is an operation that won’t be secret at all if I talk about it, or to even write about it in their forum, don’t you agree? Nahid hangs the phone, demonstrating to have lost her ability to listen with patience, but she quickly recovers enthusiasm and motivation in managing the workload to call other hundreds of enrolled members with her good communication skills. However I would have voted for Gary anyway: he is the perfect PPC. In fact he comes from the north and therefore it doesn’t speak English, reason why he is the ideal candidate in this constituency where nobody speak it, the local population consisting in Russians, Poles, South Africans, Australians and New Zealanders. With Gary the voters perfectly agree communicating with gestures and guttural sounds. Should he spoke a good English, as the Iranian Nahid does, nobody would understand him. The constituency is that of Shepherd's Bush, the one with the tube station Shepherd's Bush Green. Can you imagine in Milan a metrò station with such a name? Duomo - Cordusio - Prato del Cespuglio del Pastore - Cadorna…

Meanwhile in Roosevelt Island it was still deep night and Raffa consoled Mauro for his umpteenth premature ejaculation. However, you can’t get everything right in life: Raffa loved Mauro and by now she could no longer stand me, but unavoidably she mourned the times when my powerful nerchia filled her cavern up for many hours before watering it. Goodness knows why, I wondered, the penis had many feminine names in Italian - minchia, fava, nerchia - and that flatty one belonging to the newyorker reporter looked quite like a peony. In compensation, it was now joy to fill her heart, while helping that man morally corrupted by pornography and made sexually disable by excess of masturbation, to accept and live his sexuality, and returned her love by even accepting to let her dye his hair in of red Ferrari in homage to her hero Michael Schumacher.