Articoli dalla Categoria “English Vers.

Anxiety, Panic and Homeopathy

Pubblicato il aprile 10, 2014

Anxiety in its various forms and clinical presentations often represents a universe against which even experienced doctors and therapists end up giving up.
Where does anxiety come from? Are we born this way? Do we become anxious? Is it a combination of both hypotheses? How can we objectively measure the degree of anxiety that an individual feels at a given moment?



                Homeopathic pellets

Conventional medicine offers measurement systems, diagnosis and therapy.
But are we sure that the approach is effective? What answer would we get if we were to ask a person being treated for anxiety disorders “how do you feel?”.
Can a therapy (whatever it is) not take into consideration the perception and sensation that it causes a person to whom it is prescribed?
This is not the place to go into detailed discussions, nor do we want, in just a few lines, challenge the international “guidelines”, which are often effective.

The aim is to make an observation based on the direct experience coming from listening to the individuals who suffer from anxiety disorders, before giving them a cure.
And the first consideration crossing my mind is that anxiety is hardly measurable from the outside.
The old masters of medical semiotics say that only one kind of pain is mild and easily tolerable: that of others.

Another consideration: anxious individuals take prescribed drugs quite often, to take away the symptoms, but these persons remain, basically, anxious individuals.
Another side effect of these drugs is that they tend to flatten all emotional reactions, pulsions and sensations that form the emotional life of the subject and which are often confused with the term anxiety.
Is it really so bad for a teenager at his first date with the girl of his dreams to have his heart in his throat?  Or for that soccer player to feel a little scared before a penalty? Or for an artist to feel butterflies in his stomach at the view of a crowded theatre waiting for him?
Perhaps the right approach should be aimed at correcting the unpleasant and debilitating parts in terms of individual and social life quality, without anesthetizing the emotions with which a person is born and which are an important part of their daily life.
Homeopathy aims to achieve this balance, often by working in combination with other means, such as psychology .
Homeopathic medicine recognizes that one can be born predisposed to anxiety (diathesis or miasma). Social, nutritional and environmental infuences will then act on the development (or lack of development)  of such anxiety.

Here is a short list of the main remedies for the treatment of anxiety, always considering that it is essential to consult an experienced homeopath and that it is not correct to suspend conventional therapies without the supervision of a competent physician:

Ignatia Amara: one of the most widely used remedies against anxiety syndromes. The symptoms are paradoxical and ever-changing, often with initial insomnia (difficulty sleeping) . It’s a natural sedative .
Argentum Nitricum: anxiety and tremors, jactitation, anticipatory anxiety with fear that something bad might happen, fear of being late, agoraphobia, panic attacks.
Gelsemium: as Argentum Nitricum, but more shaky. Also, during the anxiety attacks, the subject freezes.
Aconite: tachycardia and a feeling of imminent death or fear of having a heart attack in progress. Panic attacks.
Pulsatilla is the remedy for “sheeps”. Emotional  people, hypersensitive ones, those who feel abandoned by the people they love and by whom they want to be loved. Prone to crying, they love to be comforted with hugs and caresses.
Arsenicum Album: People who feel anxious about their health. Hypochondriacs. Asthenic and weak ones.
Nux Vomica: This is for the stressed manager, the actor who has to always give its best, the  person who must be performing to the maximum.
Often abuser  of stimulants or alcohol and smoking. Sometimes compulsive eater.
Can be restless and wake up in the middle of the night thinking about what he will do tomorrow. Cramping and abdominal pain.




– Dr. Alfonso Tramontana –

– Translated by Erika Grapes –

The Melted Heart Syndrome

Pubblicato il febbraio 14, 2014


Mon Artifice (deviantart)

                           Mon Artifice (deviantart)


I want to see something so adorable it literally melts my heart, all down my rib-cage. I want to be taken to hospital with melted heart syndrome and have to have surgery to scoop up bits of my heart from my organs that are slopped into a cup, poured into a mould and put in the fridge. While I stay overnight in the hospital I want to get to know a sweet old lady, full of wisdom and acceptance and we’ll talk and she’ll share her stories and I’ll look at her in a calm, fascinated awe and see all her beauty and brilliance glowing around her as she conveys to me a frame of mind and understanding of the world I could only wonder about. Then in the morning I want to wake up and see the bed empty and when I ask the doctor what had happened to her I want him to look confused and inform me that no-one had been in the bed the night before, that I had spent the night alone. Then I want the doctor to say that he was just fucking with me and that the old lady had died in the night but before she died, she was told that I would not survive because they hadn’t got all the bits of heart out of me so she donates a spoonful of hers. Then I want my heart put back and all of this to happen when I was six so that today I will be 12% brilliant old lady.

The End.

Every time it rains a baby elephant loses its wings

Pubblicato il febbraio 6, 2014




The past was a curious machine, tubes filled with the memory of everything that grew and receded and twisted and clicked into place and dismantled again to infinite seas; cascading, revolving, evolving and dissolving like veins to the brain of the ultimate goal, the entire adventure. Unfortunately I cannot appreciate this as a witch has turned me into an otter because I wouldn’t buy her family of peg-people. I might have, if they had any craftsmanship about them at all but when I ask to see them she just took four old pegs out of her bag and spat on them all ‘for faces’. “What’s that?” I said. “FIFTY POUND!” She cackled back, pushing her wrinkly, spindly hand, filled with wood and phlegm into my face. “Fifty? I wouldn’t give you half a goat for that.” “You have half goat?” “No” “YOU LIE!!” and she turned me into an otter then went through my pockets and found the half a goat I was indeed concealing in my jacket. To top it off when I got off the bus the driver shouted “good riddance you fascist onion!”, I turned around to ask him why and realised it was just the fridge humming and that I haven’t left my house in 36 years. The moral? Don’t go fishing for waves if your net isn’t made of the ocean.

My Eyes Taste Weird

Pubblicato il gennaio 23, 2014


felix subway14



To categorize one’s life’s demise through words of imitation, has settled well these days of hell and constant medication.
Approximately three years have passed since the invention and what has it been used for apart from sewing the occasional button onto retro-Roman hats or swindling us with stories over candle-lit committees that have no form or shape or smell but handles all the apes with ropes before revealing its adventure on the back of hiding mules that camouflages all the distances, that carries into motions that then carries into pockets that we put inside our fingers to escape the roller-coaster of the embryonic mile.
It’s time to exchange all the hairs on our heads for one single hair that bursts through the top of our scalps, it’s time to open our hearts and place egg spheres inside them in the hope that one day winged buttons might fly out of our mouths at the end of an argument to reinforce a point. It’s time to find out the truth about mirrors.
This utopia cannot be achieved through intention alone. One kick of the camel’s pony and it’s two shakes back to yo-yo land.
If these are the fabled ingredient days then why do my eyes taste weird?

iMind status update, 2046

Pubblicato il gennaio 17, 2014

Felix Subway

iMind status update, 2046.

Remember Facebook? Ahh. Having to scroll down with your actual hands, ‘sharing’ things to prove you ‘like’ them but not really caring at all, regularly updating people on whatever you were doing or what you were eating. Every now and then someone said something a bit ‘real’ about politics or current affairs but that was basically the last anyone heard of it. It gave everyone a chance to signpost their beliefs off of their chests and onto the wall of their virtual selves.

Then we had the mandatory Truth app mass downloaded into our lenses and we saw how much of that was just pretence and facebook became like a massive cyber-confession box, with everyone apologising for every automatic thought status they had. You weren’t allowed to delete anything so they compromised with the ‘Sorry’ button, do you remember? We saw how similar we all really were, as equally brilliant and cruel, as heroic as we were deceptive.

It was a beautifully quiet, bitter-sweet revolution of the collective thinking process that led the way for the next obvious step; implanting our brains into the body of a single daffodil. Which is where we are today. Budge up.

By Felix Subway


The best of Best!

Pubblicato il gennaio 9, 2014

For those who still believe that football is just a sport.

For those who prefer a touch of heel of Marco Van Basten, “the Swan of Utrecht”, to the head shots of the overpaid football stars of the XXI century. For those who think that football is still poetry …

George Best

The centrepiece of the chessboard … a player full of fantasy; a player who lent magic to what might have been whimsy”

Geoffrey Green, The Times

In the collective imagination of football fans, a special place is reserved for a man who represents the great contradictions of life: George Best.

Immense talent and unconventional life. Weak character and superfine class.

Winner of the European Cup in extra time against Benfica after a night spent with a young woman; suspended from the team for two weeks because he had missed the train to Stanford Bridge due to a weekend spent with a famous actress of the time; warned by society because he had missed a week of training for spend his time with Miss Great Britain 1971; scorer of a fantastic goal against Sheffield United, after a crazy sprint culminated overcoming four opponent defenders ….

George was, however, great because he was all of these things together, to excess: great champion and frail man.

Someone used to say, and will continue to do so, that Best was better to downing liters of alcohol than to dribble opponents.

His addiction to alcohol has made history: stormy quarrels with his teammates; prison for drunk driving; serious problems with alcohol addiction that led him to a liver transplant and death for liver infection, 25 November 2005, at the age of 59 years.

But the Belfast boy, who was talking to his behavior too over the top with alcohol and women in England in the 60s, has always been much loved – George be called “The fifth Beatle” – for what he did on the field.

Thetwo league titleclaimed by his Manchester United; the success in the European Cup in May 1968; winner of the Golden Ball in 1968, several times top scorer in the Premier League; scorer of six goals during the match of the FA Cup in 1970 against Northampton …

I think I’ve found you a genius”

Telegram of Bob Bishop, Manchester United scout, to Matt Busby, MU manager.

Ripped at the age of 15 from the countryside of North Ireland and brought to England by Manchester United, George has achieved the highest sporting successes – culminating in winning the Golden Ball in 1968 – and reached the lowest points because of its many excesses.

Decisive for his career was probably another great man of international and English football: Matt Busby, manager of the “Red Devils” from 1945 to 1969.

The Scottish coach created a group of young talents – the “Busby Babes”, passed away prematurely in a plane crash in 1958 – and in 1963 made George’ debut in the first team.

Matt Busby began the career of the great Belfast boy, that big, daring talent that remains an icon for sport lovers, for those last romantic, decadent football fans…

The “Holy Trinity” – as were called Best, Law and Charlton – touched the highest point on the evening of 29 May 1968, winning the European Cup against Benfica.

And we like to think that while George lifted the Cup, his thoughts, his dedication have gone to the Busby Babes, died 10 years before in the plane crash that broke dramatically their careers.

But that’s another story …

I spent a lot of money on booze, women and fast cars … the rest I just squandered”

George Best

The best of Best:


  • Best G., Benson R., Good, the Bad and the Bubbly, 1999.
  • Lovejoy J., Bestie: A Portrait Of A Legend, 1999.
  • Best G., Collins R., Blessed: The Autobiography, 2002.
    • Best G., Knight M., Scoring at half Time, 2004.
  • Best G., Harris H., Hard Tackles And Dirty Baths: The Inside Story of Football’s Golden Era, 2006.
  • Smith B., Hunt M., George Best: A Celebration, 2008.


  • Best, (2000), directed by Mary McGuckian with John Lynch.



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