mushrooms are not part of the vegetal world they are a separate world

a big mushroom tries eating my garden, photograph by rinaldo rasa , summer 2015



A professor of the Toronto University argues the point that the most ancient still living being is a mushroom called Armillaria Bulbosa. It is an underground monster and it is edible. But it is not possibile using it in a recipe for a risotto because it is in deep under ground and its weight is 100 tons. The location is Crystal Falls at the border between Michigan and Wisconsin and it is spread along an immense grid of millions of tendrils in an area of 250000 square yards. The exact measure is of course difficult anyway the age of this mushroom is 1500 years.

Until now most people think that the biggest oragnism is the whale Balaenoptera musclusus. For example a blue whale arrived aground in Falkland Islands in 1909 was 40 meters in lenght. Another whale catched in 1947 was 210 tons weight. In vegetal world the winner is the giant sequoia Sequoiadendron Giganteum calle also General sherman 90 metrs in height in California National Park.

Anyway the Armillarias is famous because it is possible an exact measure of his longevity and size hence said the Scientist that the Mushroom of Michigan was born during the times of the Ancient Roman Empire. It is expected it does not grow but it is possibile the existence of other mushrooms like that. The discovered mushroom is very resistant because it survived of a big fire of the woods in 1928 that destroyed the woods but not the Mushroom.



web reference :






i ask to you dear aficionados, please do not divulgate thi(e)s(e) picture(s) outside the experienceofthinking
sunday november 5 2017


open letter of a specialist in snails


I have never done a serious work in the field of human genetics. I am more like a spectator in this field.


Having said that I thank you very much dear colleagues because you are not contemptuous against me even if you should be very angry at me. My own view is that I have my place in genetics journalism.


Anyway I am one of the best expert in the genetics of the snails. There are about six specialists of genetics of the snails all around the world and I am one of them. Can you forgive me?












i ask to you dear aficionados, please do not divulgate thi(e)s(e) picture(s) outside the experienceofthinking

thursday november 2 2017








goodbye china ( by goffredo parise )

‘ It’s my last day in China. I am walking towards the border. The formalities are fast because I am accompanied by the authorities. The railway bridge is here and I walk across it while the authorities are watching me with a waving of hands they say goodbye.
‘Come back again in the future. Not alone. We will like to see you and your wife and your children.’ But I have not children anyway.


I am going up in the train when I am at the end of the bridge. The railway wagon is full of Europeans that are buy now whisky, american cigarettes, chocolate bars, Coca-cola, newspapers. Our common everyday vices. Then the train goes on.
It is on Sunday : I see the bay full of small beaches when chinese girls wearing bikini and with long hair sunbathe on expensive yacths. These beaches are crowded of people listening radio broadcast Beatles songs ; I see girls in miniskirts and Chinese boys long-haired.


I see houses in the suburbs then passed a hill I see the skyscrapers of Hong-Kong.
Hong-Kong the city where you can buy love paying some dollars and everything whatever you wish. Everything except the ideas. We call it West, or Free World. ‘


[excerpt from “Cara Cina” by Goffredo Parise, 1972 ]












i ask to you dear aficionados, please do not divulgate thi(e)s(e) picture(s) outside the experienceofthinking

monday october 30 2017





a screenplay before the birth


Altarwise by owl-light
Sonnet IV
by Dylan Thomas

What is the metre of the dictionary?
The size of genesis? the short spark’s gender?
Shade without shape? the shape of Pharaoh’s echo?
(My shape of age nagging the wounded whisper).
Which sixth of wind blew out the burning gentry?
(Questions are hunchbacks to the poker marrow).
What of a bamboo man among the acres?
Corset the boneyards for the crooked boy?
Button your bodice on a hump of splitters,
My camel’s eyes will needle through the shroud.
Love’s reflection of the mushroom features,
Stills snapped by night in the bread-sided field,
Once close-up smiling in the wall of pictures,
Arc-lamped thrown back upon the cutting flood.






This sonnet proceeds from hopeless questioning to hopeless love (which is, after all, the big question of adolescence) and back again to despair. I doubt that the questions posed in the first few lines are remotely capable of an answer.

The last four lines do provide an answer to the question, ‘What is love?’ But it is not very encouraging.
Love’s a reflection of the mushroom growing at night features faces which are stills photographs snapped by night before birth into daylight in the bread-sided field the womb feeding and enclosing the foetus, once then close-up smiling like movie stars in the womb’s wall of pictures faces of those who will be loved, subsequently ark-lamped thrown back upon the cutting flood.

‘Arck-lamped’ of the periodical printing was changed to ‘arc-lamped’ in Twenty-five Poems. I suspect this was done by someone at Dent’s who was unsettled by the puns. The primary image is the one that continues the womb scene. The faces of the ones to be loved, pictured on the screen of the womb, are now arc-lamped, projected at birth like an ark on the waters that burst in a flood from the sac in the birth process, which also involves the cutting of the umbilical cord. but the images are thrown back, discared like film on a cutting-room floor that descends in waves of celluloid.

For anyone who thinks that the idea of future loved ones pictured on the wall of the womb is an impossibility far-fetched interpretation of these lines. In Edith Sitwell’s copy of Twenty -five Poems now deposited in the Texas library Thomas wrote a marginal note.

Love is a reflection of the features (the features of
those you will know and love after the womb) which are
photographed before birth and the wall of the womb
the womb being surrounded by food; a field being its
own field, and the womb being its own food.

To have one’s future loves as pin-ups in the womb is a striking way of saying that we are fated in our loving by genetic disposition. We love because we had an image given to us before we were born. It is something we can do anything about, any more than we can answer all the other questions that plague our existence in adolescence and beyond. Love, like doubt, comes as an overwhelming flood, and when this becomes a ‘cutting’ flood, as it does in the last line of the poem, everything is thrown back; we are cut off the promised happiness.


[excerpt from where have the old words got me? by ralph maud]













i ask to you dear aficionados, please do not divulgate thi(e)s(e) picture(s) outside the experienceofthinking


sunday october 29 2017