Monthly Archives: December 2015

Some tourists think Amsterdam is a city of sin, but in truth it is a city of freedom. And in freedom, most people find sin” John Green

Can one be jealous of a place? I can since both my best friend and JD are in the Netherlands and my only incessant thought of these days is “I wanna be in Amsterdam”, but I have a thing called “family” so I’m trapped into a party (without wi fi) where I can practice my art of being here while I’m somewhere else.

Instead of complaining I’d have several things to be grateful for: my family, my best friend, my unbiological sisters and my unbiological nephew born this year, the concerts I’ve been to, the journeys I made,  the fantastic people I knew, the pages I wrote and the books I read, the little meliorations in my health and obviously JD and all the little things which enlarged my life instead of extending it only.

In this 2015 I leave stupid people, stans, fake friends, those who treat me as an object and not as a person, my gluten intolerance and all of these confining diseases the doctors can’t name.

But let’s stop with this patetic end of the year’s rite, I know very well that in spite of our good choices, all our best intentions, fate wins anyway.

 

TRACK OF THE DAY: American in Amsterdam-Wheatus

 

“I just go where the guitar takes me” Angus Young

I hardly talk about the interesting people I know because people are more concerned in what they are rather in who they are or in what they have to say. I hate the word “famous” and the frenzy it generates, I’d really like that Tom who plays for a famous band would be seen the same way as Dick who works in a bank, but given that it isn’t like that, I keep my experiences for me or share them with who understand me or I write them here, that’s more or less the same that telling no one.

I’ve always been fascinated by the way of playing of the various musicians, above all guitarists and drummers, one of the first things I told JD was that he played the drums like Simon Phillips, and that’s not a cheap compliment.

Today I learned that instruments in a song are puzzled together as a function of their shape and size. Bass instruments are large, treble small (now I get why the kick drum is the biggest of the kit). Guitarists use different guitars as they were ingredients that can be used to manipulate impressions.

I’m lucky and proud to have the possibility to know so many musicians, better said, magicians, because just as for literature, music is the closest thing to magic for you create something that didn’t exist before.

 

TRACK OF THE DAY: While my Guitar gently weeps- Toto version

 

“Now pucker up and kiss it”-The Grinch

Christmas is finally over, today there’s no trace of decorated houses and trees, of trestle tables, of thousands courses, of children unwrapping presents and of piles of gifts.

Mine it’s not non conformism, I’m just sure that Christmas is only the festival of hypocrisy: people who show out after ignoring you all along the year; remembering of someone is different, it’s re- cordis, coming by again to the heart, the real one, not the one of the “Wishes from the heart” shared with all the people in the phone list, an action very easy, just press “send”.

Just, keep your fake Christmas, I treasure mine from the heart.

 

TRACK OF THE DAY: Coriandoli a Natale- Subsonica

 

“When a man is tired of London, he is tired of life” Samuel Johnson

They say that birds of a feather flock together. To be frank they say also that opposites attracts, but I think that it goes at the speaker’s discretion, like cotton that according to the shop assistant shrinks or gives depending upon how it fits to the costumer.

As regarding me and London counts the first statement, when I talk about it I always say “I come home” because it’s my very special place, the only I’d never leave. And counting the days that separate me from my next journey makes everything better, even this sad Christmas Eve where, as usual, I have the feeling of being my family’s colf and not being a part of it unless they need me.

 

TRACK OF THE DAY: The City-Ed Sheeran

 

“We write to taste life twice, in the moment and in retrospect”Anaïs Nin

Non ho un buon motivo per aprire un blog, non lo leggerà nessuno in italiano, figurarsi in inglese e io ho pure la presunzione di farlo bilingue.

Sto aspettando che un talentuoso beatboxer di Norfolk pubblichi il video della sua canzone che amo di più e dato che è in ritardo come al solito, ho pensato di fare qualcosa di costruttivo perché ogni tanto mi capita di esclamare “questo è il genere di cosa che dovrei scrivere nel mio blog… se ne avessi uno”.

Non sarà un blog di cucina (sono intollerante alle fanatiche della planetaria almeno quanto lo sono al glutine), né di quelli smielati su bambini e famiglia (non vi basta quanto rompono a casa? Dovete pure leggere di loro nei blog altrui?), né di crafting, né tantomeno di moda (non vado oltre il: è nero e/o con la Union Jack? Mi sta? Costa poco? Al triplice sì l’acquisto è fatto).

Non sarà neppure un blog intimista fatto di discorsi deprimenti o con belle poesie o foto artistiche, né tantomeno uno di quelli utilizzati come contenitore in cui vomitare critiche e cattiverie.

Rispecchierà quello che sono, ovvero ogni cosa e il suo contrario.

TRACK OF THE DAY: LOVE WE FOUND- INTENSI T

 

I don’t have any good reason to open a blog, nobody is going to read it in Italian let alone in English, but I even presume to have a bilingual one.

I’m waiting for a talented beatboxer from Norfolk to upload the video of the song of his that I like the most, but since he’s late as usual, I thought to do something productive. Because it often happens to me to say “this is the sort of thing I should write in my blog… if only I had one”.

It wont be a blog about cooking (I’m intolerant to the fanatic of kitchen stations as much as I’m intolerant to gluten), or those sweety ones about babies and family (aren’t you fed up by how much they bug you at home? Do you really need to read about them in another person’s blog?), nor about crafting or fashion (how I choose clothes: is it black and/or with Union Jack on it? Does it fit me? Is it cheap? If the triple answer is “Yes” I buy it).

It wont be either an intimate blog, with lame posts, or beautiful sad poems or iconic pictures, nor a space where to vomit critics and malice.

It will reflect who I am, better said everything and its contrary.