PRIMROSES AND OTHER DYING THINGS

SIRIUS is cutting dried flowers and tying weak branches from primroses past their blooming time but still sporting lovely flowers. MRS. BLACK: Stop wasting time with those dying flowers. SIRIUS: Just a moment, look, they are still blooming. MRS. BLACK: Mania. This is mania. Oh yeah, Mrs Black? THIS is mania, I guess, taking care of living, beautiful things. But of course they are dying, so why bother. Give it up. Just like in high school when I was doubtful about going to a party where there might be people I didn't like, and your advice was: "If you're going to get angry, don't go." Just like when I was 18 and dealing with the pain of unrequited love and your advice was: "You're too young." Just like while I was writing my thesis and I had landed my first job, and I was under pressure, and your advice was: "If you can't do it, let it go." I've learned the lesson well, Mrs Black, seeing how I deal with love and work today. But why should I be surprised? I should not take it personally, when this is how you react about everything you do, even the tiny things: MRS BLACK (the very instant her pencil is out of sight): AAAAARGH I'VE LOST MY PENCIL THE HORROR THE HORROR I'M AN IDIOT I'M FINISHED DAMN ME DAMN THE PENCIL WHY AM I SUCH A WRETCH WHAT HAVE I DONE TO DESERVE TH - Oh, here it is. (No chance of searching before yelling, of course. And no chance of a "Sirius, help me find my pencil, will you?" either.) Of course yours are not manias like my primroses, you're sooo much better, such a good example, when you abuse Mr. Black while he's away (or because he's away?): MR BLACK (pleasantly on the phone): And where are you all now? MRS BLACK: WHERE DO YOU THINK WE ARE, WE ARE AT THE DINING TABLE, WHAT A STUPID QUESTION IS THIS SNARL SNARL MR BLACK: OK, goodnight. (Probably a "f*ck you" thrown in for good measure after hanging up). Or that other time last week, while you were preparing for a visit with friends the day after. MR BLACK (helpfully): Where's the fridge box for the wine bottles? We have one, don't we? MRS BLACK: Yes, I think it's in the garage, go have a look. I'm a bit tired right now, but maybe Sirius and Andromeda can help you. Oh, sorry, wrong movie, wrong mother. The actual answer was: MRS BLACK: OF COURSE WE HAVE ONE, WHY DO YOU BOTHER ME WITH THIS NOW, YOU WANT IT, HERE IT IS, HERE ARE THE REFRIGERATING ELEMENTS (slams ice element on the table), WHY DO YOU TORMENT ME SO, WHY MUST I BE SUCH A WRECK SNARL SNARL. Even Aunt Andromeda ran for her life. I usually manage to keep out of such pleasantries by getting the hell away, but sometimes I can't. SIRIUS: Is there a banana left somewhere? MRS BLACK: There's half a banana in the fridge, you want it? SIRIUS: Yes, thanks. MRS BLACK: There, I can never eat the things I want. (so why the f*ck did you offer it to me, you psycho?) Lessons to be learned NOW: 1. I am not my mother. 2. The world is not my mother, so stop treating it like it could randomly abuse me. Oh yes, it could: but not because it's my mother.

MR. BLACK TALKS POLITICS

Sirius: (lies on his bed trying to write) Mr. Black (in the kitchen): How much does our country count in the world? What are our millennia of culture worth? What is our future? Who has real power? The Easter Island natives disappeared, blah blah blah. Andromeda: Real power is in the hands of the stronger. Mr. Black (sneering): Who, those Americans? Mrs. Black (always the optimist): If Iran fires upon us it's over. Mr. Black: But if so, what's the use of our culture? And is it good that the world is getting warmer? Andromeda: Well, there have been glaciations and... Mr. Black: How do you know? Andromeda: (explodes and I don't catch the exact words.) Mr. Black: I accept your answer. But our millennia of culture... (rinse and repeat for several times). Mrs. Black: SHUT UP! I've had enough of this gangrene you harbour in your soul since You-Know-Who came to power! I've had enough of you having nightmares, shouting and hitting me in the night! I'll divide the beds! Mr. Black: LAUGHS. Sirius suddenly realizes why he slept like sh!t tonight.

SIRIUS AND THE MOSQUITOES

Last night: Sirius: Is there some spiral or burners against mosquitoes? Mrs. Black: NO THERE AREN'T AND WHAT IS THERE IS THERE SNARL SNARL. Sirius looks in the obvious places, finds spirals but no supports, finds mosquito tabs but no burners. He douses himself in Autan and sleeps with all windows closed. The morning after. It should be easier looking for the stuff in daylight. Sirius: About those burners... Mrs. Black: I HAVE NO TIME I'M LATE LEAVE ME ALONE SNARL SNARL. Sirius sends a message to Andromeda to buy him a burner. He'll keep it in his room, chained to his desk.

A STAB IN THE BACK

Sirius: I need to catch a train at 1604. (Sirius' strategic mistake: not being more independent, i.e. use my car. I can't afford that now.) Mrs. Black: OK, we'll drive you. Sirius: I'm sorry you won't have your afternoon rest. Mrs. Black (angry): One can't do everything. AS YOU HAVEN'T LEARNED YET. Translation: You're going out to have fun with your friends while you should be working, so all your problems are your fault. My main fault is that I keep coming back here. But the other morning Mrs. Black and I had such a nice conversation about everything over breakfast. So I keep dreaming that things could be normal between us, and then, stab. No, Mom, I don't want to learn to give up the things I like (which I do anyway, all too often), if it means turning into a passive-aggressive slave who every morning can't have breakfast in peace because she feels she has to lay out the clothes for Mr. Black otherwise he's unable to do it himself. (Of course, he's never needed to learn it.)

CRITICIZE ONLY IN FRONT OF OTHER PEOPLE

Random social occasion, before going. Mrs. Black: Look at me. I suck. My shoes/shirt/hat are all wrong. We're a family of bums. At least there's Sirius, look how elegant he is! Sirius: (looks at himself, he just cleaned up a bit and can't see why his mother hates herself so much.) At the seamstress'. Note: the seamstress is in the room during the conversation. Mrs. Black is there to chat with her and I didn't think of going alone another day. Sirius: I'd like to fix the collar of this shirt, it's too big because it's an old shirt a friend gave me, but it's such a beautiful blue colour that I'd be sorry to throw it away. Mrs. Black: Pity I didn't see it before, I'd have thrown it away myself. Seamstress: But why? It's so beautiful. Mrs. Black: He's so full of rubbish he doesn't know where to put things. Sirius: (seething) I have everything stowed away in boxes. Mrs. Black: And you can't even find the things you need. It's raining and you don't have a raincoat. Sirius: (swallows pithy answer about how he's more covered than she is, and starts undressing to try the shirt on.) Sorry, ma'am, I went out with this old sweatshirt. Seamstress: Don't worry, dear. Mrs. Black: He dresses like a bum. Sirius: (controlled explosion) Oh, yeah, sorry if I've been feeling ill all day and didn't feel like changing clothes. Mrs. Black: Yes, yes. Seamstress: I might have to let it out here and here. Mrs. Black: He's fat. Sirius: (swallows answer about how he hasn't had a true holiday since July, can't sleep for stress and is eating more to hold himself up.) But the rule "belittle Sirius only in front of other people" doesn't always hold... Andromeda: How did the shirt trial go? Mrs. Black: He's fat.

NEW BLOG

Benvenuti al nuovo blog, fa ancora schifo ma almeno esiste. E sì, potete commentare. Forse.

Welcome to the new blog, it still sucks but at least it exists. And yes, you can comment. Maybe.

STRATEGIES

Incoraggiare i miei genitori a divorziare una volta per tutte, o far ricoverare con la forza mia madre a S. Mungo per schizofrenia? E chi se ne frega... io vivo da James.

Encouraging my parents to get a divorce already, or have my mother forcefully committed to St. Mungo's for schizophrenia? Who gives a damn... I live at James's.

MRS. BLACK'S COMPUTER

Mrs Black: I want a computer. But not too complicated.
Sirius: All right, let's go buy it. Here, this is good and not too complicated and costly.
Mrs B: I'll never be able to use it.
Sirius: Yes you will, I'll teach you the essentials.
(at home)
Mrs Black: Now teach me to use it.
Sirius: You open it like this...
Mrs Black: I'll never be able to use it.
Sirius: Yes you will.
Mrs Black: There are too many icons.
Sirius: I'll delete them for you.
Mrs Black: No, don't do things I don't understand.
Sirius: (I'll delete them later. She won't notice.)
Sirius: Now, to use Word, you probably need to register it.
Mrs Black: This is complicated.
Sirius: I'll do it. Don't worry, it's for expert users, you'll never need to do this.
Mrs Black: I'll never be able to.
Sirius: You won't need it. No, sorry, I can't register it now. I'll teach you WordPad.
Mrs Black: Don't teach me new things.
Sirius: WordPad is easier than Word and compatible with Word.
Mrs Black: I'm sure it won't work.
(later)
Mrs Black: Andromeda, my family wants me to do things for expert users.
Andromeda: But no, Sirius said he'll do that...
Mrs Black: I'll never be able to use it.
(Sirius' head explodes)