Showing posts with label ianclarke. Show all posts
Showing posts with label ianclarke. Show all posts

Monday, December 2, 2024

Muhammad Ali: People Like That Never Get Knocked Down


Rarely have performative and athletic aptitudes intertwined with such fluency. When we first noticed him, around the Liston fight, we noticed he was different—different in the way an exposed diamond is different from a chunk of cement. It was as if the boxing ring had become a bejeweled pulpit, and the sermons that rang from above held more holy suspense than blood action.

It became obvious—for Muhammad Ali—that boxing was a secondary skill, one that furthered a spiritual quest. He was a seeker for that which  lay far beyond Vegas hotel rooms and ringside misery.

Once called the most famous man on earth, he had a detachment from those who wished him good or ill. Redemption arrived from beyond the roiling crowds and praise and money. If the gloves were cut off, the hands would remain in prayer.

At the end, when the body failed and he could no longer raise his arms, salvation swooned and led him from the Ring. Ali then entered the mystic, that forever sanctified, quiet kingdom where victory and loss are unknown. 

Rest assured, people like that never get knocked down.


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Tuesday, October 15, 2024

Anna Fallarino: Tales of Pleasure and Pain

 

A crime of the heart?


Zannone. A beautiful Mediterranean island. Italian. Warm waters ebb and flow. Overhead, an azure sky. In the 60s, the Marquis Camillo Casati Stampa di Soncino, or just Casati Stampa, leased the island.

His villa was the scene of endless parties, replete with orgies. There was a 'hidden mirror room' where the marquis and friends would watch sex sessions, many involving his wife, who often swam naked with guests.


His wife. Anna Fallarino, an actress searching for a different stage. Off to Zannone. Lots of lovers. A cache of nude photos. And more and more.

But then, what? Call it love. Massimo Minorenti, student/porn actor, a regular sex partner, captured her heart. And they met off the island—an extremely dangerous adventure.

Rome. August 1970. Enter Casati Stampa with a shotgun. Six shells. Three for Fallarino. Two for Minorenti. And the final one for himself. All gone.

A crime of passion? Hardly. Sexual jealousy is no substitute for a crime of the heart.

Today, Zannone is in ruins. At night, wild sheep sleep under their indigo sheets, unheeding the whispering surf with its tales of painless pleasure.

 

#zannone #casatistampa #annafallarino #sex #1960s #island #italy #marquis #lamarchesa #annaecamillo #MassimoMinorenti #letsplaysomethingelse